The beauties of this play impress themselves so strongly upon the attention of the reader, that they can draw no aid from critical illustration. The fiery openness of Othello, magnanimous, artless, and credulous, boundless in his confidence, ardent in his affection, inflexible in his resolution, and obdurate in his revenge; the cool malignity of Lago, silent in his resentment, subtle in his designs, and studious at once of his interest and his vengeance; the soft simplicity of Desdemona, confident of merit, and conscious of innocence, her artless perseverance in her suit, and her slowness to suspect that she can be suspected, are such proofs of Shakspeare's skill in human nature, as, I suppose, it is vain to seek in any modern writer. The gradual progress which lago makes in the Moor's conviction, and the circumstances which he employs to inflame him, are so artfully natural, that, though it will, perhaps, Bot be said of him as he says of himself, that he is a man not easily jealous, yet we cannot but pity him, when it last we find him perplexed in the extreme. There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined with abilities, should steal upon esteem, though it misses of approbation; but the character of lago is so conducted, that he is, from the first scene to the last, hated and despised. Even the inferior characters of this play would be very conspicuous in any other piece, not only for their justness. but their strength. Cassio is brave, benevolent, and honest, ruined only by his want of stubbornness to resist an insidious invitation. Roderigo's suspicious credulity, and impatient submission to the cheats which he sees practised apen him, and which, by persuasion, he suffers to be repeated, exhibit a strong picture of a weak mind betrayed, by unlawful desires, to a false friend; and the virtue of Emilia is such as we often find, worn loosely, but not cast off easy to commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed at atrocious villanies. The scenes, from the beginning to the end, are busy, varied by happy interchanges, and regularly promoting the progression of the story; and the narrative in the end, though it tells but what is known already, yet is necessary to produce the death of Othello. Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding incidents been occasionally related, there had been little wanting to a drama of the most exact and scrupulous regularity. Johnson. DUKE OF VENICE. BRABANTIO, a Senator. Two other Senators. GRATIANO, Brother to Brabantio. LODOVICO, Kinsman to Brabantio. IAGO, his Ancient. CASSIO, his Lirutenant. RODERIGO, a Venetian Gentleman. PERSONS REPRESENTED. MONTANO, Othello's Predecessor in the Government of Cyprus. Clown, Servant to Othello.-Herald. DESDEMONA, Daughter to Brabantio, and Wife to Othello. EMILIA, Wife to Iago. BIANCA, a Courtezan, Mistress to Cassio. Officers, Gentlemen, Messengers, Musicians, Sailors, SCENE, for the First Act, in Venice; during the rest of the Play, at a Sea-port in Cyprus. ACT I. SCENE I-Venice. A Street. Enter RODERIGO and IAGO. Rod. Tush, never tell me, I take it much unkindly, Abhor me. [hate. Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, My mediators; for, certes, says he, Forsooth, a great arithmetician, A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife; More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, As masterly as he mere prattle, without practice, Preferment goes by letter, and affection, To love the Moor. Rod. I would not follow him then. I follow him to serve my turn upon him: Whip me such honest knaves: Others there are, [soul; Do themselves homage: these fellows have some For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: In following him, I follow but myself; Oth. Let him do his spite: My services, which I have done the signiory, Shall out-tongue his complaints. "Tis yet to know, (Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, I shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege; and my demerits May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune As this that I have reach'd: For know, lago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into circumscription and confine For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yonder? Enter CASSIO, at a distance, and certain Officers with torches. lago. These are the raised father, and his friends: You were best go in. Oth. My parts, my title, and my perfect soul, Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? Iago. By Janus, I think no. Not I: I must be found; Oth. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. The goodness of the night upon you, friends! What is the news? Cas. The duke does greet you, general; And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, Even on the instant. Oth. What is the matter, think you? Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine; It is a business of some heat: the galleys Have sent a dozen sequent messengers This very night at one another's heels; And many of the consuls, rais'd, and met, Are at the duke's already: You have been hotly call'd for; When, being not at your lodging to be found, Oth. "Tis well I am found by you. I will but spend a word here in the house, And go with you. Cas. [Exit. 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. Iago. Cas. He's married. To who? Re-enter OTHELLO. Jago. Marry, to-Come, captain, will you go? Oth. Have with you. Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you. Enter BRABANTIO, RODERICO, and Officers of night, with torches and weapons. Iago. It is Brabantio:-General, be advis'd: le comes to bad intent. Holla! stand there! Oth Rod. Signior, it is the Moor. Down with him, thief! (They draw on both sides.) Jago. You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you. Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Jood signior, you shall more command with years, han with your weapons. Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter? Jamn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her : such a thing as thou: to fear, not to delight. adge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense, Duke. There is no composition in these news, That gives them credit. 1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion'd; My letters say, a hundred and seven galleys. Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty. 2 Sen. And mine, two hundred: But though they jump not on a just account, (As in these cases, where the aim reports, "Tis oft with difference,) yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment; I do not so secure me in the error, But the main article I do approve In fearful sense. Sailor. (Within.) What ho! what ho! what ho! Enter an Officer, with a Sailor. Off. A messenger from the galleys. Duke. Now? the business? Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes; So was I bid report here to the state, By signior Angelo. Duke. How say you by this change? 1 Sen. This cannot be, Hambly I thank your grace. Here is the man, this Moor: whom no, it seems, Your special mandate, for the state affairs. Hata hither bronht. Duke & Sen. for it. We are very sorry Dose. What, in your own part, can you say to tis? To Othello. Bra. Noming, but this is so. Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approv'd good masters.That I have talen away this old man's daughter, It is most true; true. I have married her; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Ride an I in my speech, And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace: For suce these arms of mine had seven years pith, Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd Their dearest action in the tented field; And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle; And therefore little shall I grace my cause, In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious pa tience. I will a round mavarn.sh'd tale deliver [Of years, of country, credit, every thing.- Dike. It fie au poison this young maid's affections' Se for the lady to the Sagittary, Dike. Dake. Say it. Othello. Or. Her father lov'd me; oft invited me; I ran it through, even from my boyish days, Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle. Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads too:a heaven, It was my hint to speak, such was the process; Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house affairs would draw her thence. And often did beguile her of her tears, strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what She wish'd, she had not heard it; yet she wish'd charms. That heaven had made her such a man: she tank'd me; And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, |