Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. O now, for ever,
Farewell the tranquil mind; farewell content;
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue. O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And, O you mortal engines, whose loud throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

Iago. Is it possible, my lord?

Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;

[Taking him by the throat.

Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,

Thou hadst been better have been born a dog

Than answer my waked wrath.

Iago. Is it come to this?

Oth. Make me to see it; or (at the least) so prove it,

That the probation bear no hinge nor loop

To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!

Iago. My noble lord

Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;

On horror's head, horrors accumulate;

Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.

Iago. O grace! O heaven, defend me!

Are you a man? have you a soul, or sense?

God be wi' you; take mine office.—O wretched fool, That livest to make thine honesty a vice!—

O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honest is not safe.-

I thank you for this profit; and, from hence
I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence.
Oth. Nay, stay:-thou shouldst be honest.

Iago. I should be wise; for honesty's a fool,
And loses that it works for.

I think my wife be honest, and think she is not;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not:
I'll have some proof. Her name that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black
As mine own face.-If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,

I'll not endure it.-Would I were satisfied!

OTHELLO'S STORY OF THE HANDKERCHIEF.

Oth.

That handkerchief

Did an Egyptian to my mother give;

She was a charmer, and could almost read

The thoughts of people. She told her, while she

kept it,

"Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father Entirely to her love; but if she lost it,

Or made a gift of it, my father's eye

Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies! she dying, gave it me;

And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
To give it her. I did so; and take heed of't,
Make it a darling like your precious eye;

To lose or give't away, were such perdition
As nothing else could match.

Oth. 'Tis true; there's magic in the web of it:
A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
The sun to make two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work;

The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk;
And it was dyed in mummy, which the skilful
Conserved of maiden's hearts.

Some readers can educe a moral from the plays of Shakspere, and others, as will be seen from the annexed quotation, discover not those valuable lessons which are appropriated by the more discerning and judicious class of readers. We extract the following from Boswell's "Life of Johnson." "I observed the great defect of the tragedy of "Othello" was, that it had not a moral; for that no man could resist the circumstances of suspicion which were artfully

suggested to Othello's mind."-JOHNSON: "In the first place, sir, we learn from Othello this very useful moral, not to make an unequal match; in the second place, we learn not to yield too readily to suspicion. The handkerchief is merely a trick, though a very pretty trick; but there are no other circumstances of reasonable suspicion, except what is related by Iago of Cassio's warm expressions concerning Desdemona in his sleep, and that depended entirely upon the assertion of one man. No, sir, I think Othello has more moral than almost any play."

OTHELLO'S PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF
DESDEMONA.

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words,

But not the words.

Oth. Why, what art thou?

Des.

Oth.

Your wife, my lord; your true
And loyal wife.

Come, swear it, damn thyself;

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double-damn'd: Swear-thou art honest.

Des. Heaven doth truly know it.

Oth. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell. Des. To whom, my lord? with whom?-How am I

false?

Oth. O Desdemona! away! away! away!

Des. Alas, the heavy day!—Why do you weep?
Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord?
If, haply, you my father do suspect,

An instrument of this your calling back,

Lay not your blame on me: if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.

Oth.

Had it pleased heaven

To try me with affliction; had it rain'd

All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;

Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience: but, alas! to make me
A fixed figure, for the hand of scorn
To point his slow unmoving finger at-
0, 0!

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:

But there, where I have garner'd up my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence;

Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads

To knot and gender in!-Turn thy complexion there:
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim,
Ay, there, look grim as hell.

Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. O, thou weed,