fio. So fhall you have a fhorter journey to your defires, by the means i fhall then have to prefer them: and the impediments most profitably removed, without which there was no expectation of our profperity. Rad. I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity. Iago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I must fetch his neceflaries afhore. Farewel. Rod. Adieu. Manet IAGO. [Exit. Iago. That Caffio loves her, I do well believe: And, I dare think, he'll prove to Defdemona For that I do fufpect the lufty Moor Hath leapt into my feat. The thought whereof That judgment cannot cure. (26) Which thing to If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace [do, For h's quick burtig, and the putting on.] A trifling infignificant fellow may, in fome refpects, very well be called #rah; but what confonance of metaphor is there betwist For his quick hunting, ftand the putting on, And practifing upon his peace and quiet, SCENE, the Street. Enter Herald with a Proclamation. Her. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant General, that upon certain tidings now arrived importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph: fome to dance, fome to make bonefires, each man to what sport and revels his mind leads him. For, befides this beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptials. So much was his pleasure fhould be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feafting, from this prefent hour of five, 'till the bell: have told eleven. Blefs the ifle of Cyprus, and our noble General Othello! [Exit. traf and quick hunting, and ftanding the putting on? The allufion to the chafe Shakespeare feems to be fond of applying. to Rodrigo, who fays of himself towards the conclusion of this act I follow her in the chafe, not like a bound that hunts, but one that fills up the ty I have a great futpicion, therefore, that the Poet wrote; If this poor brach of Venice; which, we know, is a degenerate fpecies of hound, and a term generally used in contempt: and this compleats and perfects the metaphorical allufion, and makes it much more fasirical: Ma Warburton. SCENE, the Caftle. Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard toLet's teach ourfelves that honourble ftop, [night: Not to out-fport difcretion. Caf. Iago hath direction what to do: But, notwithstanding, with my perfonal eye Will I look to't. Oth. lago is most honeft: [lieft, Michael, good-night. To-morrow, with your ear- [Exeunt Othello and Defdemona. Enter IAGO. Caf. Welcome, Iago; we muft to the Watch. lago. Not this hour, Lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten o' th'clock. Our General caft us thus early for the love of his Defdemona: whom let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her : and fhe is fport for Jove. Caf. She's a moft exquifite lady. Iago. And I'll warrant her, full of game. Caf. Indeed, the's a most fresh and delicate crea ture. Iago. What an eye fhe has! methinks it fou ds a parley to provocation. Caf. An inviting eye; and yet, methinks, right modeft. Iags. And when fhe fpeaks, is it not an alarum to love? Caf. She is indeed, perfection.. Iago. Well, happinefs to their fheets: come, Lieutenant, I have a ftoup of wine, and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a measure to the health of the black Othello. Caf. Not to-night, good lago; I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish, courtesy would invent fome other cuftom of entertainment. Iago. Oh, they are our friends: but one cup; I'll drink for you. Caf. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too: and, behold, what inno-vation it makes here. I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more. Iago. What, man? 'tis a night of revels, the gallants defire it. Caf. Where are they? him, Iago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. Now, my fick fool, Rodorigo, Whom love hath turned almoft the wrong fide out, If confequence do but approve my deem, (37) Enter CASSIO, MONTANO, and Gentlemen. Caf. 'Fore Heaven, they have given me a rouse already. Mont. Good faith, a little one: not paft a pint, as I am a foldier. Iago. Some wine, ho! [Tago fings. "And let me the canakin clink, clink, "And let me the canakin clink. "A foldier's a man; oh, man's life's but a fpan; Why, then let a foldier drink.” Some wine, boys. Caf. 'Fore Heaven, an excellent fong. Iago. I learned it in England: where, indeed, they are most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German, and your fwag-bellied Hollander,Drink, ho! -are nothing to your English. Caf. Is your Englishman fo exqufite in his drinking? lago. Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk. He fweats not to overthrow your Almain. He gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled. Caf. To the health of our General. Mont. I am for it, Lieutenant, and I'll do you juftice. (27) If confequence do but approve my dream,] All the printed copies concur in this reading, but, I think, it does not come up to the Poet's intention; I rather imagine that he wrote, If confequence do but approve my deem; i. e. my opinion, the judgment I have formed of what muft happen. So in Troilus and Creffida; Cref. I true? how now? what wicked deem is this? |