I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts. Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go: Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. 31 [Exeunt Eneas and Trojans. As TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other side, PANDARUS. Pan. But hear you, hear you!" Hence, broker-lackey ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! [Exit. Pan. A goodly medicine for my aching bones! O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! why should our endeavor be so loved and the performance so loathed ? what verse for it? what instance for it? Let me see: 41 Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, As many as be here of pander's hall, It should be now, but that my fear is this, INTRODUCTION. Othello s tae only play which appeared in quarto (in 1622) in the interval between Shakespeare's death and the publication of the first folio. We have no means, except by internal evidence, of ascertaining the date at which the play was written. Upon the strength of a supposed allusion to the armorial bearings of the new order of Baronets, instituted in 1611 (Act III., Sc. IV. L. 46-47), the play has been referred to a year not earlier than 1611; but the metrical tests confirm the impression produced by the general character and spirit of the tragedy, that it cannot belong to the same period as The Tempest, Cymbeline, and The Winter's Tale. It is evidently one of the group of tragedies of passion which includes Macbeth and Lear. The year 1604 has been accepted by several critics as a not improbable date for Othello. The original of the story is found in Cinthio's Hecatomithi, but it has been in a marvellous manner elevated and re-created by Shakespeare. Coleridge has justly said that the agonized doubt which lays hold of the Moor is not the jealousy of a man of naturally jealous temper, and he contrasts Othello with Leontes in The Winter's Tale, and Leonatus in Cymbe line. A mean watchfulness or prying suspicion is the last thing that Othello could be guilty of. He is of a free and noble nature, naturally trustful, with a kind of grand innocence, retaining some of his barbaric simpleness of soul in midst of the subtle and astute politicians of Venice. He is great in simple heroic action, but unversed in the complex affairs of life, and a stranger to the malignant deceits of the debased Italian character. Nothing is more chivalrous, more romantie, than the love of Othello and Desdemona. The beautiful Italian girl is fascinated by the real strength and grandeur, and the tender protectiveness of the Moor. He is charmed by the sweetness, the sympathy, the gentle disposition, the gracious womanliness of Desdemona. But neither quite rightly knows the other; there is none of that perfect equality and perfect knowledge between them which unite Bo Hawlessly Brutus and Portia. There is no character in Shakespeare's plays so full of serpentine power and serpentine poison as Iago. He is envious of Cassio, and suspects that the Moor may have wronged his honor; but his malignancy is out of all proportion to even its alleged motives. Cassio, notwithstanding his moral weaknesses, is a chivalrous nature, possessed by enthusiastic admiration of his great general and the beautiful lady who is his wife. But lago can see neither human virtue nor greatness. All things to him are common and unclean, and he is content that they should be He is not the sly, sneaking, and too manifest villain of some of the actors of his part. He is "honest Iago," and passes for a rough yet shrewd critic of life, who is himself frank and candid. To ensnare the nobly guileless Othello was, therefore, no impossible task. Shakespeare does not allow Iago to triumph; his end is wretched as his life has been. And Othello, restored to love through such tragic calamity, dies once more reunited to his wife, and loyal, in spite of all his wrongs, to the city of his adoption. It is he who has sinned, and not she who was dearer to him than himself, and of his own wrongs and griefs he can make a sudden end. ACT I. SCENE I. Venice. A street. Enter RODERIGO and IAGO. Rod. Tush! never tell me ; I take it much unkindly That thou, lago, who hast had my purse As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me : If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me. Rod. Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place: 11 But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he, 'I have already chose my officer.' Forsooth, a great arithmetician, 20 A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife; That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, Wherein the toged consuls can propose As masterly as he mere prattle, without practice, Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election: And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'd 30 Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. Iago. Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service, Preferment goes by letter and affection, Whether I in any just term am affined Rod. I would not follow him then. 40 I follow him to serve my turn upon him : We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd: Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, 51 And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them and when they have lined their coats Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, The native act and figure of my heart If he can carry't thus! Iago. Call up her father, Rouse him make after him, poison his de light, Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kins men, And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 70 Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such changes of vexation on't, Rod. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud. Iago. Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell As when, by night and negligence, the fire Rod. What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! Iago Awake! what, ho, thieves thieves! thieves! Brabantio! Patience, good sir. Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice; My house is not a grange. Rod. Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you. Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans. Bra. What profane wretch art thou? Iago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs. Thou art a villain. Bra. 120 Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you, If 't be your pleasure and most wise consent, To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,- But if you know not this, my manners tell 130 me [Exit above. Farewell; for I must leave you: It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, To be produced-as, if I stay, I shall— Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state, However this may gall him with some check, Cannot with safety cast him, for he's em• bark'd 150 With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls, Another of his fathom they have none, I must show out a flag and sign of love, Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; torches. Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is ; And what's to come of my despised time Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl! With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father ! How didst thou know 'twas she? O, she deceives me Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers: Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you? Rod. Truly, I think they are. Bra. O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! 170 Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds By what you see them act. Is there not charms By which the property of youth and maidhood Rod. Some one way, some another. Do you know Rod. I think I can discover him, if you please It is a business of some heat the galleys 46 When, being not at your lodging to be found, 'Tis well I am found by you. I will but spend a word here in the house, And go with you. [Exit. Cas. Ancient, what makes he here? Iago. 'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack: If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. Cas. I do not understand. 50 To who? Iago. Mary, to-Come, captain, will you go? Have with you. 10 Oth. Are you fast married? Be assured of this, Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you. Iago. It is Brabantio. General, be advised; He comes to bad intent. Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers with torches and weapons. Oth. Down with him, thief! [They draw on both sides. Iago. You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you. Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons. 60 Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter? Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her; Abused her delicate youth with drugs of minerals That weaken motion: I'll have 't disputed on; |