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Macb.      "  I've  done  the  deed.     Didst  thou  not  htar  a  noise? 
Lady  M.      "  I  heard  the  owl  scream  and  the  crickets  cry." 

Macbeth.     Act  2,  Scene  1. 


Page  44, 


HtXTttti  (ScIIf «f  Fitbrarg 


THE 


COMPLETE  WORKS 


WILLIAM    SHAKESPEARE, 


A    LIFE    OF    THE    POET,    EXPLANATORY    FOOT-NOTES,    CRITICAL 
NOTES,    AND    A    GLOSSARIAL    INDEX. 


gavtJarcX    gtlltinii. 


Rev.    henry    N.    HUDSON,    LL.D. 


IN   TWENTY   VOLUMES. 

Vol.    XVn. 


BOSTOX,    U.S.A. 
PUBLISHED    BY    GLXN   &   COMPAxW 

1S99 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1881,  b) 

Henry  N.  Hudson, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


MACBETH. 


FIRST  printed  in  the  folio  of  1623.  On  the  8th  of  November, 
that  year,  it  was  registered  at  the  Stationers'  by  Blount  and 
Jaggard,  as  one  of  the  plays  "not  formerly  entered  to  other 
men." 

The  text  of  this  drama  has  come  down  to  us  in  a  state  far  from 
satisfactory.  Though  not  so  badly  printed  as  some  other  plays 
in  the  same  volume,  for  instance,  AlPs  Well  that  Ends  Well  and 
Coriolainis,  still  it  has  a  number  of  very  troublesome  passages. 
In  several  cases,  the  errors  are  of  such  a  nature  that  we  can  hardly 
refer  them  to  any  other  than  a  phonographic  origin.  On  this 
point,  the  learned  editors  of  the  Clarendon  edition  observe  as 
follows:  "Probably  it  was  printed  from  a  transcript  of  the  au- 
thor's manuscript,  which  was  in  great  part  not  copied  from  the 
original,  but  written  to  dictation.  This  is  confirmed  by  the  fact 
that  several  of  the  most  palpable  blunders  are  blunders  of  the 
ear,  and  not  of  the  eye." 

The  minute  and  searching  criticism  of  our  time  has  made  out, 
almost,  if  not  altogether,  beyond  question,  that  considerable  por- 
tions of  Macbeth  were  not  written  by  Shakespeare.  I  have  been 
very  slow  and  reluctant  to  admit  this  conclusion ;  but  the  evi- 
dence, it  seems  to  me,  is  not  to  be  withstood.  It  is,  moreover, 
highly  probable,  to  say  the  least,  that  few  of  the  scenes,  perhaps 
none,  have  reached  us  altogether  in  the  form  they  received  from 
the  Poet's  hand.  But,  as  this  matter  is  to  be  discussed  under 
the  heading  "  Shakespeare  and  Middleton,"  and  as  the  lines 
judged  not  to  be  Shakespeare's  are  asterized  in  this  edition,  it 
need  not  be  enlarged  upon  here. 

The  date  of  the  composition  has  been  variously  argued  and 
concluded.  Until  a  recent  period,  there  was  nothing  but  inter- 
nal evidence  at  hand  for  settling  the  date.     Proceeding  upon 


4  MACBETH. 

this,  Malone  and  Chalmers  agreed  upon  the  year  1606  as  the 
probable  tune  of  the  writing.  That  the  composition  was  sub- 
sequent to  the  union  of  the  English  and  Scottish  crowns,  was 
justly  inferred  from  what  the  hero  says  in  his  last  interview  with 
the  Weird  Sisters:  "And  some  I  see,  that  tivofold  balls  and 
treble  sceptres  carry."  James  the  First  came  to  the  throne  of 
England  in  March,  1603;  but  the  two  crowns  were  woX.  formally 
united,  at  least  the  union  was  not  proclaimed,  till  October,  1604. 

Our  earliest  authentic  notice  of  Macbetli  is  from  one  Simon 
Forman,  M.D.,  an  astrologer,  quack,  and  dealer  in  the  arts  of 
magic,  who  kept  a  sort  of  diary  which  he  entitled  The  Book  of 
Plays  and  Notes  thereof .  In  1836  the  manuscript  of  this  diary 
was  discovered  in  the  Ashmolean  Museum,  and  a  portion  of  its 
contents  published.  Forman  gives  a  somewhat  minute  and  par- 
ticular account  of  the  plot  and  leading  incidents  of  the  drama, 
as  he  saw  it  played  at  the  Globe  tlieatre  on  Saturday  the  20th 
of  April,  1610.  The  passage  is  too  long  for  my  space  ;  but  it  is 
a  very  mark-worthy  circumstance,  that  from,  the  way  it  begins, 
and  from  the  wording  of  it,  we  should  naturally  infer  that  what 
now  stands  as  the  first  scene  of  the  play,  then  made  no  part  of 
the  performance.  The  passage  opens  thus:  ."In  Macbeth,  at 
the  Globe,  1610,  the  20th  of  April,  Saturday,  there  was  to  be 
observed,  first,  how  Macbeth  and  Banquo,  two  noblemen  of 
Scotland,  riding  through  a  wood,  there  stood  before  them  three 
women,  faries  or  nymphs,  and  saluted  Macbeth,  saying  three 
times  unto  him.  Hail,"  &c. 

It  is  highly  probable,  to  say  the  least,  that  the  tragedy  was 
then  fresh  from  the  Poet's  hand,  and  was  in  its  first  course  of 
performance.  Some  arguments,  indeed,  or  seeming  arguments, 
liave  been  adduced,  inferring  the  play  to  have  been  written  three 
or  four  years  earlier;  but  I  can  see  no  great  force  in  them.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  appears  that  Forman  had  long  been  an  habit- 
ual frequenter  of  play-houses;  and  it  seems  nowise  likely  that 
one  so  eager  in  quest  of  novelties  would  either  have  missed  the 
play,  had  it  been  put  upon  the  stage  before,  or  have  made  so 
special  a  notice  of  it,  but  that  he  then  saw  it  for  the  first  time. 
Nor  have  the  characteristics  of  the  work  itself  any  thing  to  say 
against  the  date  in  question ;   those  portions  of  it  that  have  the 


MACBETH.  5 

clearest  and  most  unquestionable  impress  of  Shakespeare's  liancl 
being  in  liis  greatest,  ricliest,  most  idiomatic  style. 

Tlie  story  ot  Macbetli,  as  it  lived  in  tradition,  had  been  told 
by  Holinshed,  whose  Chronicles  first  appeared  in  1577,  and  by 
George  Buchanan,  the  learned  preceptor  of  James  the  First,  who 
has  been  termed  the  Scotch  Livy,  and  whose  History  of  Scotland 
came  forth  in  1582.  The  mam  features  of  the  story,  so  far  as  it 
is  adopted  by  the  Poet,  are  the  same  in  both  these  writers,  save 
that  Buchanan  represents  Macbeth  to  have  merely  dreamed  of 
meeting  the  Weird  Sisters,  and  of  being  hailed  by  them  success- 
ively as  Thane  of  Angus,  Thane  of  Murray,  and  as  King.  Holin- 
shed was  Shakespeare's  usual  authority  in  matters  of  British 
history.  In  the  present  case  the  Poet  shows  no  traces  of  obli- 
gation to  Buchanan,  unless,  which  is  barely  possible,  he  may 
have  taken  a  hint  from  the  historian,  where  th-  latter,  speaking 
of  Macbeth's  reign,  says,  "Certain  of  our  writers  here  relate 
many  idle  things  which  I  omit,  as  being  fitter  for  Milesian  fables 
or  for  the  theatre  than  for  sober  history."  A  passage  which,  as 
showing  the  author's  care  for  the  truth  of  what  he  wrote,  perhaps 
should  make  us  wary  of  trusting  too  much  in  later  writers,  who 
would  have  us  believe  that,  a  war  of  factions  breaking  out, 
Duncan  was  killed  in  battle,  and  Macbeth  took  the  crown  by 
just  and  lawful  title.  And  it  is  considerable  that  both  Hume 
and  Lingard  acquiesce  in  the  old  account  which  represents 
Macbeth  to  have  murdered  Duncan,  and  usurped  the  throne. 

According  to  the  history,  Malcolm,  King  of  Scotland,  had  two 
daughters.  Beatrice  and  Doada,  severally  married  to  Abanath 
Crinen  and  to  Sinel,  Thanes  of  the  Isles  and  of  Glamis,  by 
whom  each  liad  a  son  named  Duncan  and  Macbeth.  The  former 
succeeded  his  grandfather  in  the  kingdom  :  and,  Ik-  being  of  a 
soft  and  gentle  disposition,  his  reign  was  at  first  very  quiet  and 
peaceable,  but  afterwards,  by  reason  of  his  slackness,  was  greatly 
harassed  with  troubles  and  seditions,  wherein  his  cousin,  who 
was  valiant  and  warlike,  did  great  service  to  the  State. 

I  condense  the  main  particulars  of  the  historic  matter.  After 
narrating  the  victory  of  the  Scottish  generals  over  the  rebels  and 
invaders,  the  chronicler  proceeds  in  substance  as  follows  : 


6  MACBETH. 

Macbeth  and  Banquo  were  on  their  way  to  Forres,  where  the 
King  then  lay ;  and,  as  they  were  passing  through  the  fields 
alone,  three  women  in  strange  and  wild  attire  suddenly  met 
them;  and,  while  they  were  rapt  with  wonder  at  the  sight,  the 
first  said,  "All  hail,  Macbeth,  Thane  of  Glamis  "  ;  the  second, 
"Hail,  Macbeth,  Thane  of  Cawdor";  the  third,  "Hail,  Mac- 
beth, that  hereafter  shalt  be  King."  Then  said  Bancjuo,  "  What 
manner  of  women  are  you,  that  to  my  fellow  here,  besides  high 
offices,  ye  assign  the  kingdom,  but  promise  nothing  to  me?" 
"Yes,"  said  the  first,  "  we  promise  greater  things  to  thee:  for 
he  shall  reign  indeed,  but  shall  have  no  issue  to  succeed  him  ; 
whereas  thou  indeed  shalt  not  reign,  but  from  thee  shall  spring 
a  long  line  of  kings."  Then  the  women  immediately  vanished. 
At  first  the  men  thought  this  was  but  a  fantastical  illusion, 
insomuch  that  Banquo  would  call  Macbeth  king  in  jest,  and 
Macbeth  in  like  sort  would  call  him  father  of  many  kings.  But 
afterwards  the  women  were  believed  to  be  the  Weird  Sisters ; 
because,  the  Thane  of  Cawdor  being  condemned  for  treason,  his 
lands  and  titles  were  given  to  Macbeth.  Whereupon  Banquo 
said  to  him  jestingly,  "  Now,  Macbeth,  thou  hast  what  two  of 
the  Sisters  promised ;  there  remaineth  only  what  the  other  said 
should  come  to  pass."  And  Macbeth  began  even  then  to  devise 
how  he  might  come  to  the  throne,  but  thought  he  must  wait  for 
time  to  work  his  way,  as  in  the  former  preferment.  But  when, 
shortly  after,  the  King  made  his  oldest  son  Prince  of  Cumber- 
land, thereby  in  effect  appointing  him  successor,  Macbeth  was 
sorely  troubled  thereat,  as  it  seemed  to  cut  off  his  hope ;  and, 
thinking  the  purpose  was  to  defeat  his  title  to  the  crown,  he 
studied  to  usurp  it  by  force.  Encouraged  by  the  words  of  the 
Weird  Sisters,  and  urged  on  by  his  wife,  who  was  "  burning 
with  unquenchable  desire  to  bear  the  name  of  queen,"  he  at 
length  whispered  his  design  to  some  trusty  friends,  and,  having 
a  prom'se  of  their  aid,  slew  the  King  at  Inverness ;  then  got 
himself  proclaimed  king,  and  forthwith  went  to  Scone,  where, 
by  common  consent,  he  was  invested  after  the  usual  manner. 

The  circumstances  of  the  murder,  as  set  forth  in  the  play, 
were  taken  from  another  part  of  the  history,  where  Holinshed 
relates  how  King  Duff,  being  the  guest  of  Donwald  and  his  wife 


MACBETH,  7 

in  their  castle  at  Forres,  was  there  murdered.  The  story  ran  as 
follows  :  King  Duff  having  retired  for  the  rest  of  the  night,  his  two 
chamberlains,  as  soon  as  they  saw  him  well  a-bed,  came  forth,  and 
fell  to  banqueting  with  Donwald  and  his  wife,  who  had  prepared 
many  choice  dishes  and  drinks  for  their  rear-supper;  wherewith 
they  so  gorged  themselves,  that  their  heads  no  sooner  got  to  the 
pillow  than  they  were  so  fast  asleep  that  the  chamber  might  have 
been  removed  without  waking  them.  Then  Donwald,  goaded 
on  by  his  wife,  though  in  heart  he  greatly  abhorred  the  act, 
called  four  of  his  servants,  whom  lie  had  already  framed  to  the 
purpose  with  large  gifts  ;  and  they,  entering  the  King's  chamber, 
cut  his  throat  as  he  lay  asleep,  and  carried  the  body  forth  into 
the  fields.  In  the  morning,  a  noise  being  made  that  the  King 
was  slain,  Donwald  ran  thither  with  the  watch,  as  though  he 
knew  nothing  of  it,  and,  finding  cakes  of  blood  in  tlie  bed  and 
on  the  floor,  forthwith  slew  the  chamberlains  as  guilty  of  the 
murder. 

The  body  of  Duncan  was  conveyed  to  Colmekill,  and  there 
laid  in  a  sepulchre  amongst  his  predecessors,  in  the  year  1040. 
Malcolm  and  Donalbain,  the  sons  of  Duncan,  for  fear  of  their 
lives  fled  into  Cumberland,  where  Malcolm  remained  till  Saint 
Edward  recovered  England  from  the  Danish  power.  Edward 
received  Malcolm  with  most  friendly  entertainment,  but  Donal- 
bain passed  over  into  Ireland,  where  he  was  tenderly  cherished 
by  the  King  of  that  land 

Macbeth,  after  the  departure  of  Duncan's  sons,  used  great 
liberality  towards  the  nobles  of  the  realm,  thereby  to  win  their 
favour;  and,  when  he  saw  that  no  man  went  about  to  trouble 
him,  he  set  his  whole  endeavour  to  maintain  justice,  and  to 
punish  all  enormities  and  abuses  which  had  clianced  through  the 
feeble  administration  of  Duncan.  He  continued  governing  the 
realm  for  the  space  of  ten  years  in  equal  justice  ;  but  this  was  but 
a  counterfeit  zeal,  to  purchase  thereby  the  favour  of  the  people. 
Shortly  after,  he  began  to  show  what  he  was,  practising  cruelty 
instead  of  equity.  For  the  prick  of  conscience  caused  him  ever 
to  fear,  lest  he  should  be  served  with  the  same  cup  as  he  had 
ministered  to  liis  predecessor.  The  words,  also,  of  the  Weird 
§isters  would  not  out  of  his  mind ;  which,  as  they  promised  him 


8  MACBETH. 

the  kingdom,  did  likewise  promise  it  at  the  same  time  to  the 
posterity  of  Banquo.  He  therefore  desired  Banquo  and  his  son 
named  Fleance  to  come  to  a  supper  that  he  had  prepared  for 
them  ;  but  hired  certain  murderers  to  meet  them  without  the 
palace  as  they  returned  to  their  lodgings,  and  there  to  slay  them. 
Yet  it  chanced,  by  the  benefit  of  the  dark  night,  that,  though 
the  father  was  slain,  the  son  escaped  that  danger ;  and  after- 
wards, having  some  inkling  how  his  life  was  sought  no  less  than 
his  father's,  to  avoid  further  peril  he  fled  into  Wales. 

After  the  slaughter  of  Banquo,  nothing  prospered  with  Mac- 
beth. For  every  man  began  to  doubt  his  own  life,  and  durst 
hardly  appear  in  the  King's  presence  ;  and  as  there  were  many 
that  stood  in  fear  of  him,  so  likewise  stood  he  in  fear  of  many, 
in  such  sort  that  he  began  to  make  those  away  whom  he  thought 
most  able  to  work  him  any  displeasure.  At  length  he  found 
such  sweetness  in  putting  his  nobles  to  death,  that  his  thirst 
after  blood  might  nowise  be  satisfied.  For,  first,  they  were  rid 
out  of  the  way  whom  he  feared  ;  then,  his  coifers  were  enriched 
by  their  goods,  whereby  he  might  the  better  maintain  a  guard 
of  armed  men  about  him,  to  defend  his  person  from  tliem  whom 
he  had  in  any  suspicion. 

To  the  end  he  might  the  more  safely  oppress  his  subjects,  he 
built  a  strong  castle  on  the  top  of  a  high  hill  called  Dunsinane. 
This  castle  put  the  realm  to  great  expense,  before  it  was  finished  ; 
for  all  the  stuff  necessary  to  the  building  could  not  be  brought 
up  without  much  toil  and  business.  But  Macbeth,  being  deter- 
mined to  have  the  work  go  forward,  caused  the  thanes  of  each 
shire  within  the  realm  to  come  and  help  towards  the  building, 
each  man  his  course  about.  At  last,  when  the  turn  fell  to  Mac- 
duff, Thane  of  Fife,  he  sent  workmen  with  all  needful  provision, 
and  commanded  them  to  show  such  diligence,  that  no  occasion 
might  be  given  for  the  King  to  find  fault  with  him  for  not  coming 
himself:  which  he  refused  to  do  for  fear  lest  the  King  should  lay 
violent  hands  upon  him,  as  he  had  done  upon  divers  others. 

Shortlv  after,  Macbeth,  coming  to  behold  how  the  work  went 
forward,  was  sore  offended  because  he  found  not  Macduff  there, 
and  said,  "I  perceive  this  man  will  never  obey  my  commands 
till  he  be  ridden  with  a  snafitle  ;  but  I  shall  provide  enough  for 


MACBETH.  9 

him."  Nor  could  he  afterwards  abide  to  look  upon  Macduff, 
either  because  he  thought  his  puissance  over-great,  or  else  be- 
cause he  had  learned  of  certain  wizards,  in  whose  words  he  put 
great  confidence,  that  he  ought  to  take  heed  of  Macduff.  And 
surely  he  had  put  Macduff  to  death,  but  that  a  certain  witch,  in 
whom  he  had  great  trust,  had  told  him  he  should  never  be  slain 
by  a  man  born  of  an\-  woman,  nor  be  vanquished  till  the  wood 
of  Birnam  came  to  the  castle  of  Dunsinane.  By  this  prophecy 
Macbeth  put  all  fear  out  of  his  heart,  supposing  he  might  do 
what  he  would.  This  vain  hope  caused  him  to  do  many  outra- 
geous things,  to  the  grievous  oppression  of  his  subjects. 

At  length  Macduff,  to  avoid  peril  of  life,  purposed  with  him- 
self to  pass  into  England,  to  procure  Malcolm  to  claim  the  crown 
of  Scotland.  But  this  was  not  so  secretly  devised,  but  that 
Macbeth  had  knowledge  thereof:  for  he  had,  in  every  noble- 
man's house,  one  sly  felloW  or  other  in  fee  with  him,  to  reveal 
all  that  was  said  or  done  within  the  same.  Immediately  then, 
being  informed  where  Alacduff  went,  he  came  hastily  with  a  great 
power  into  Fife,  and  forthwith  besieged  the  castle  where  Mac- 
duff dwelt,  trusting  to  find  him  therein.  They  that  kept  the  house 
opened  the  gates  without  any  resistance,  mistrusting  no  evil. 
Nevertheless  Macbeth  most  cruelly  caused  the  wife  and  children 
of  Macduff,  with  all  others  whom  he  found  in  the  castle,  to  be 
-slain.  He  also  confiscated  the  goods  of  Macduff,  and  proclaimed 
him  traitor;  but  Macduff  had  already  escaped  out  of  danger,  and 
gone  into  England  to  Alalcolm,  to  try  what  he  could  do,  by  his 
support,  to  revenge  the  slaughter  of  his  wife,  his  children,  and 
other  friends. 

Holinshed  then  proceeds  to  relate,  at  considerable  length,  the 
interview  between  Macduff  and  Malcolm  at  the  English  Court, 
setting  forth  the  particulars  of  their  talk  in  the  same  order,  and 
partly  in  the  same  words,  as  we  have  them  in  the  Poet's  text. 

Soon  after,  .Macduff,  repairing  to  the  borders  of  Scotland, 
addressed  letters  with  secret  dispatch  to  the  nobles  of  the  realm, 
declaring  how  Malcolm  was  confederate  with  him,  to  come  hastily 
into  Scotland  to  claim  the  crown.  In  tlie  meantime,  Malcolm 
gained  such  favour  at  King  Edward's  hands,  that  old  Siward, 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  was  appointed  with  ten  thousand  men 


lO  MACBETH. 

to  go  with  him  into  Scotland,  to  support  him  in  this  enterprise. 
After  this  news  was  spread  abroad  in  Scotland,  the  nobles  drew 
into  several  factions,  the  one  taking  part  with  Macbeth,  the  other 
with  Malcolm. 

When  Macbeth  perceived  his  enemies'  power  to  increase  by 
such  aid  as  came  to  them  out  of  England,  he  fell  back  into  Fife, 
purposing  to  abide  at  the  Castle  of  Dunsinane,  and  to  fight  willi 
his  enemies,  if  they  meant  to  pursue  him.  Malcolm,  following 
hastily  after  Macbeth,  came  the  night  before  the  battle  to  Birnam 
wood ;  and,  when  his  army  had  rested  awhile  there,  he  com- 
manded every  man  to  get  a  bough  of  some  tree  of  tliat  wood  in 
his  hand,  as  big  as  he  might  bear,  and  to  march  forth  therewith 
in  such  wise,  that  on  the  next  morning  they  might  come  closely 
within  view  of  his  enemies. 

On  the  morrow,  when  Macbeth  beheld  them  coming  in  this 
sort,  he  first  marvelled  what  the  matter  meant ;  but  in  the  end 
remembered  himself,  that  the  prophecy,  which  he  had  heard 
long  before,  of  the  coming  of  Birnam  wood  to  Dunsinane-Castle, 
was  likely  now  to  be  fulfilled.  Nevertheless  he  brought  his  men 
in  order  of  battle,  and  exhorted  them  to  do  valiantly;  howbeit 
his  enemies  had  scarcely  cast  from  them  their  boughs,  when 
Macbeth,  perceiving  their  numbers,  betook  him  straight  to  flight. 
MacduflF  pursued  him  with  great  hatred,  till  Macbeth,  perceiving 
that  he  was  hard  at  his  back,  leaped  beside  his  horse,  saying, 
"  Thou  traitor,  what  meaneth  it  that  thou  shouldst  thus  in  vain 
follow  me,  who  am  not  appointed  to  be  slain  by  any  creature 
that  is  born  of  a  woman  :  come  on,  therefore,  and  receive  thy 
reward":  and  therewithal  he  lifted  up  his  sword,  thinking  to 
have  slain  him.  But  Macduff,  quickly  leaping  from  his  horse, 
answered,  with  his  naked  sword  in  his  hand,  "  It  is  true,  Mac- 
beth ;  and  now  shall  thy  insatiable  cruelty  have  an  end  :  for  I 
am  even  he  that  thy  wizards  told  thee  of,  who  was  never  born 
of  my  mother,  but  ripped  out  of  her  womb  "  :  therewithal  he 
stepped  unto  him,  and  slew  him.  Then,  cutting  his  head  from 
his  shoulders,  he  set  it  upon  a  pole,  and  brought  it  to  Malcolm. 
This  was  the  end  of  Macbeth,  after  he  had  reigned  seventeen 
years  over  the  Scottishmen. 


MACBETH. 


PERSONS    REPRESENTED. 


Duncan,  King  of  Scotland. 
Malcolm, 


his  Sons. 


DONALBAIN,  1 

Macbeth,  I  Qg^erals  of  his  Army. 
Banouo.     ) 


■  Thanes  of  Scotland. 


Young  Siward,  his  Son. 

Seyton,    an    Officer    attending    on 

Macbeth. 
Son  to  Macduff. 
An  English  Doctor. 
A  Scotch  Doctor. 
A  Soldier.    A  Porter. 
An  old  Man. 


Banquo, 

Macduff, 

Lennox, 

Ross, 

Menteith, 

ANGUS, 

Caithness,  J 
Fleance,  Son  to  Banquo. 
SlWARU,    Earl   of   Northumberland, 
General  of  the  English  Forces. 

Lords,  Gentlemen,  Officers,  Soldiers,  Murderers,  Attendants,   Messengers, 
and  Apparitions. 

Scene.  —  /«  the  end  of  the  fourth  Act,  i>i  England  ;  through  the  rest  of  the 

Play,  in  Scotland. 


Lady  Macbeth. 
Lady  Macduff. 
Gentlewomen     attending    on    Lady 

Macbeth. 
Hecate,  and  Witches. 


ACT    I. 


Scene  I. —  An  Open  Place. 

Thunder  and  lightnmg.     Enter  three  Witclies. 

/  Witch.    When  sliall  we  tliree  meet  again 
In  thunder,  hghtning,  and  in  rain? 


12  MACBETH.  ACT  I. 

2  Witch.    When  the  hurlyburly's  •  done, 

When  the  battle's  lost  and  won. 
J  Witch.    That  will  be  ere  th'  set  of  Sun. 

1  Witch.    Where  the  place  ? 

2  Witch.  Upon  the  heath. 
J  IVitch.    Tliere  to  meet  with  Macbeth. 

*i  Witch.    I  come,  graymalkin  ! 

*2  Witch.    Paddock  '-  calls.  —  Anon  !  ^ 

AH.    Fair  is  foul,  and  foul  is  fair  :  ^ 

Hover  througli  the  fog  and  filthy  air.  \_Exeunt. 

1  The  origin  and  sense  of  this  word  are  given  by  Peacham  in  his 
Garden  of  Eloque/ice,  1577  :  "  Onomatopeia,  when  we  invent,  devise,  fayne, 
and  make  a  name  imitating  the  sound  of  that  it  signifyeth,  as  hurlyburly,  for 
an  uprore  and  tumultuous  stirre."  Thus  also  in  Hohnshed  :  "  There  were 
such  hut  lie  burlies  kept  in  every  place,  to  the  great  danger  of  overthrowing 
the  whole  state  of  all  government  in  this  land." 

2  Graymalkin  is  an  old  name  for  a  ^/-ay  cat.  —  Paddock  \s  toad ;  and  toad- 
stools were  called  paddock-stools.  —  In  the  old  witchcraft  lore,  witches  are 
commonly  represented  as  having  attendants  called  familiars,  which  were 
certain  animals,  such  as  dogs,  cats,  toads,  rats,  mice,  and  some  others.  So 
in  T/ie  Witch  of  Edmonton,  by  Rowley,  Dekker,  and  Ford,  ii.  i : 

1  have  heard  old  beldams 
Talk  of  familiars  in  the  shape  of  mice, 
Rats,  ferrets,  weasels,  and  I  wot  not  what. 
That  have  appear'd.  and  suck'd,  some  say,  their  blood. 

And  in  that  play,  mother  Sawyer,  the  Witch,  is  attended  by  a  black  dog,  or 
rather  by  a  devil  in  that  shape,  w'ho  executes  her  commands.  Generally, 
in  fact,  the  familiar  was  supposed  to  be  a  devil  assuming  the  animal's  shape, 
and  so  waiting  on  the  witch,  and  performing,  within  certain  limits,  whatever 
feats  of  mischief  she  might  devise ;  the  witch  to  pay  his  service  with  the 
final  possession  of  her  soul  and  body. 

^  Anon !  was  the  usual  answer  to  a  call;  meaning //rjr(V///i'  or  immedi- 
ately. Here  the  toad,  serving  as  familiar,  is  supposed  to  make  a  signal  for 
the  Witches  to  leave  ;  and  Anon  /  is  the  reply. 

*  This  is  probably  meant  to  signify  the  moral  confusion  or  inversion 
which  the  Witches  represent.  They  love  elemental  wars  ;  and  "  fair  is  foul, 
and  foul  is  fair  "  to  them  in  a  moral  sense  as  well  as  in  a  physical. 


SCENE  ir.  MACBETH.  1 3 

Scene  II.  —  A  Camp  near  Fot-res. 

Alarums  luit/iin.     Enter  Duncan,  Malcolm,  Donalbain, 
Lennox,  witli  Attendants,  meeting  a  bleeding  Sergeant. 

*Dun.    What  bloody  man  is  that?     He  can  report, 
*As  seemeth  by  his  phght,  of  the  revolt 
*The  newest  state. i 

*  Mai.  This  is  the  sergeant,^ 

*\Vho,  lilve  a  good  and  hardy  soldier,  fought 
* 'Gainst  my  captivity.  —  Hail,  brave  friend  ! 
*Say  to  the  King  thy  knowledge  of  the  broil 
*As  thou  didst  leave  it. 

*Se}g.  Doubtful  it  stood  ; 

*As  two  spent  swimmers,  that  do  cling  together 
*And  choke  their  art.     The  merciless  Macdonwald  — 
Worthy  to  be  a  rebel,  for,  to  that,^ 
The  multiplying  villainies  of  nature 
Do  swarm  upon  him  — from  the  Western  Isles 
Of'*  kerns  and  gallowglasses  is  supplied  ; 
*And  Fortune,  on  his  damned  quarrel  ^  smiling, 

1  "  The  newest  state  "  is  the  latest  condition. 

2  Sergeants,  in  ancient  times,  were  not  what  are  now  so  called;  but  men 
performing  feudal  military  service,  in  rank  next  to  esquires. 

3  To  that  end,  or  for  that  purpose ;  namely,  to  make  him  a  rebel. 

4  Of,  here,  has  the  force  of  with,  the  two  words  being  often  used  indis- 
criminately.—Touching  the  men  here  referred  to,  Holinshed  has  the  fol- 
lowing: "Out  of  Ireland  in  hope  of  the  spoile  came  no  small  number  of 
Kernes  and  Galloglasses,  offering  gladlie  to  serve  under  him,  whither  it 
should  please  him  to  lead  them."  Barnabe  Rich  thus  describes  them  \\\ 
his  Ne7u  Irish  Prognostication  :  "  The  Galloglas  succeedeth  the  Horseman, 
and  he  is  commonly  armed  with  a  scull,  a  shirt  of  maile,  and  a  galloglas- 
axe.  The  Kernes  of  Ireland  are  next  in  request,  the  very  drosse  and  scum 
of  the  countrey,  a  generation  of  villaines  not  worthy  to  live." 

5  Quarrel  was  often  used  for  cause.  So  in  Bacon's  essay  Of  hfarriage 
and  Single  Life  :  "Wives  are  young  men's  mistresses,  companions  for  mid- 
dle age,  and  old  men's  nurses ;  so  as  a  man  may  have  a  quarrel  to  marry 
when  he  will."     See,  also,  the  quotation  from  Holinshed  in  scene  4,  note  8. 


14  MACBETH. 

*Sho\v'd  like  a  rebel's  whore  :  but  all's  too  weak ;  ^ 
*For  brave  Macbeth,  — well  he  deserves  that  name, — 
*  Disdaining  fortune,  with  his  brandish'd  steel, 
*\Vhich  smoked  with  bloody  execution, 
*Like  valour's  minion 

*Carved  out  his  passage  till  he  faced  the  slave  ; 
*And  ne'er  shook  hands, '^  nor  bade  farewell  to  him, 
*Till  he  unseam'd  him  from  the  nave  to  th'  chops, ^ 
*And  fix'd  his  head  upon  our  battlements. 

*  Dun.    O  valiant  cousin  !  worthy  gentleman  ! 

*Serg.    As  whence  the  Sun  gives  his  reflection  ^ 
*Shipwrecking  storms  and  direful  thunders  break ; 
*So  from  that  spring  whence  comfort  seem'd  to  come 
*Discomfort  swells.     Mark,  King  of  Scotland,  mark  : 
*No  sooner  justice  had,  with  valour  arm'd, 
*Compeird  these  skipping  kerns  to  trust  their  heels, 
*But  the  Norweyan  lord,  surveying  vantage, 
*With  furbish'd  arms  '°  and  new  supi)lies  of  men, 
*Began  a  fresh  assault. 

*Dun.  Dismay'd  not  this 


6  Here,  "is  supplied"  and  "is  too  weak"  are  instances  of  the  present 
with  the  sense  of  the  perfect,  and  mixed  up  irregularly  with  preterite  forms. 

■^  To  shake  hands  with  a  thing,  as  the  phrase  was  formerly  used,  is  to  take 
leave  o/it.  So  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  in  his  Relicrio  Medici,  1643 :  "  I  have 
shaken  hands  with  delight  in  my  warm  blood  and  canicular  days  ;  I  perceive 
I  do  anticipate  the  vices  of  age;  "  &c. 

*  Nave  for  navel,  probably.  Such  a  sword-stroke  upwards  seems  rather 
odd,  but  queer  things  have  often  happened  in  mortal  combats.  So  in  Nash's 
Dido,  Queen  of  Carthage,  1594  :  "  Then  from  the  navel  to  the  throat  at  once 
he  ript  old  Priam."  Also  in  Shadwell's  Libertine,  1676  :  "  I  will  rip  you  from 
the  navel  to  the  chin." 

9  Reflection  is  here  put,  apparently,  for  radiance  or  light.  So  that  the 
place  "  whence  the  Sun  gives  his  reflection  "  is  the  heavens  or  the  sky.  See 
Critical  Notes. 

t"  That  is,  arms  gleaming  with  unstained  brightness  ;  fresh.  —  Surveying 
vantage  is  watching  his  opportunity. 


SCENE  II.  MACBETH.  ItJ 

*Our  captains/^  Macbeth  and  Eanquo? 

*Serg.  Yes ; 

*As  sparrows  eagles,  or  the  hare  the  lion. 
*If  I  say  sooth,  I  must  report  they  were 
*As  cannons  overcharged  with  double  cracks  ;  ^^ 
*So  they  redoubled  strokes  upon  the  foe  : 
*  Except  they  meant  to  bathe  in  reeking  wounds, 
*0r  memorize  ^^  another  Golgotha, 
*I  cannot  tell. 
*But  I  am  faint,  my  gashes  cry  for  help. 

*Dun.  So  well  thy  words  become  thee  as  thy  wounds  ; 
*They  smack  of  honour  both.  —  Go  get  him  surgeons.  — 
*Who  comes  here?  [iix// Sergeant,  attended. 

*  Enter  Ross. 

*Mal.  The  worthy  Thane  of  Ross. 

*Len.    What  haste  '"*  looks  through  his  eyes  !     So  should 
he  look 
*That  seems  1^  to  speak  things  strange. 

*Ross.  God  save  the  King  ! 

*Dun.    Whence  camest  thou,  worthy  thane  ? 

*Ross.  From  Fife,  great  King ; 

Where  the  Norvveyan  banners  flout  the  sky, 
And  fan  our  people  cold.^''     *Norway  himself, 

11  Here  captains  was  probably  meant  to  be  a  trisyllable,  as  if  it  were  spelt 
capitains.     We  have  the  word  used  repeatedly  so. 

12  Overcharged  with  double  cracks  is,  as  we  should  say,  loaded  with  double 
charges  ;  crack  being  put  for  that  which  makes  the  crack. 

13  To  memorize  is  to  make  fattious  or  jnemorable.  Except  is  here  equiv- 
alent to  unless.  "  Unless  they  meant  to  make  the  spot  as  famous  as  Gol- 
gotha, I  cannot  tell  what  they  meant." 

1*  We  should  say,  "  What  a  haste."     See  vol.  xiv.  page  29,  note  13. 

1'''  It  appears  that  to  seem  was  sometimes  used  with  the  exact  sense  of  to 
■will  or  to  mean.  So,  afterwards,  in  scene  5  :  "  Which  fate  and  metaphysical 
aid  doth  seem  to  have  thee  crown'd  withal." 

I'j  "The  banners,  proudly  reared  aloft  and  fluttering  in  the  wind,  seemed 


1 6  MACBETH.  ACT 

*With  terrible  numbers, 

*Assisted  by  that  most  disloyal  traitor, 

*The  Thane  of  Cawdor,  'gan  a  dismal  conflict ; 

*Till  that  Bellona's  bridegroom,  lapp'd  in  proof,^'' 

Confronted  him  with  self  caparisons, ^^ 

Point  against  point  rebellious,  arm  'gainst  arm. 

Curbing  his  lavish  spirit :  i'*  *and,  to  conclude, 

*The  victory  fell  on  us  ;  — 

*Dun.  Great  happiness  ! 

*Ross.  — that  2"  now 

*Sweno,  the  Norways'  king,  craves  composition  ; 
*Nor  would  we  deign  him  burial  of  his  men 
*Till  he  disbursed,  at  Saint  Colme's-inch,-' 
*Ten  thousand  dollars  to  our  general  use. 

*Dun.  No  more  that  Thane  of  Cawdor  shall  deceive 
*Our  bosom  interest.  Go  pronounce  his  present  death, 
*And  with  his  former  title  greet  Macbeth. 

*Ross.    I'll  see  it  done. 


to  mock  or  insult  the  sky,  —  '  laughing  banners  ' ;  while  the  sight  of  them 
struck  chills  of  dread  and  dismay  into  our  men."  Flout  and  fan  for  flouted 
and  fanned  ;  instances  of  what  is  called  "  the  historic  present."  See  note  6. 
1"  "  Lapp'd  in  proof"  is  covered  with  impenetrable  armour,  or  "  armour 
of  proof,"  as  it  is  called. —  Bellona  was  the  old  Roman  goddess  of  war;  the 
companion  and,  as  some  thought,  the  sister  of  Mars.  Steevens  laughed  at 
the  Poet's  ignorance  in  making  her  the  wife  of  Mars:  whereas  he  plainly 
makes  her  the  bride  of  Macbeth. 

18  Caparisons  for  arms,  offensive  and  defensive ;  the  trappings  and  furni- 
ture of  personal  figliting.  Here,  as  often,  self  is  equivalent  to  self-same.  So 
that  the  meaning  is,  Macbeth  confronted  the  rebel  Cawdor  with  just  such 
arms  as  Cawdor  himself  had.    It  was  Scot  against  Scot.    See  Critical  Notes. 

19  That  is,  checking  or  repressing  his  reckless  or  prodigal  daring. 

■20  That  was  continually  used  with  the  force  of  so  that,  or  insomuch  that. 
—  Composition  for  armistice  or  terms  of  peace  ;  as  in  the  phrase  to  compound 
a  quarrel. 

21  Colme's  is  here  a  dissyllable.  Colme's  Inch,  now  called  Ittchcomb,  is  a 
small  island,  lying  in  the  Firth  of  Edinburgh,  with  an  abbey  upon  it  dedi- 
cated to  St.  Columb.    Inch  or  inse,  in  Erse,  signifies  an  island. 


MACBETH. 


17 


*Dun.    What  he  hath  lost  noble  Macbeth  hath  won. 

\  Exeunt. 

Scene  III.  —  A  Heath. 

Thunder.     Enter  the  three  Witches. 

*i  Witch.    Where  hast  thou  been,  sister? 
*2  Witch.    Killing  swine. 
*3  Witch.    Sister,  where  thou? 
*/  Witch.    A  sailor's  wife  had  chestnuts  in  Ivjr  lap, 
*And    munch'd,   and    munch'd,  and    munch'd.      Give    me, 

quoth  I  : 
*Aroi7it  thee,^  witch  I  the  rump-fed  ronyon-  cries. 
*Her  husband's  to  Aleppo  gone,  master  o'  the  Tiger : 
*But  in  a  sieve  I'll  thither  sail, 
*And,  like  a  rat  without  a  tail,"^ 
*ril  do,  I'll  do,  and  I'll  do.^ 
*2  Witch.    I'll  give  thee  a  wind. 
*/  Witch.    Thou  art  kind.^ 

1  Aroint  thee  !  is  an  old  exorcism  against  witches  ;  meaning,  apparently, 
away!  standoff!  or  be  gone  !     The  etymology  of  the  word  is  uncertain. 

2  Ronyon  is  said  to  be  from  ronger,  French,  which  signifies  Xo  gnaw  or 
corrode.  It  thus  carries  the  sense  of  scurvy  or  mangy.  —  Rump-fed  is,  prob- 
ably, fed  on  broken  meats  or  the  refuse  of  wealthy  tables.  Some,  however, 
take  it  to  mean  pampered;  fed  on  the  best  pieces. 

3  Scot,  in  his  Discovery  of  Witclicraft,  1584,  says  it  was  believed  that 
witches  "could  sail  in  an  egg-shell,  a  cockle  or  muscle-shell  through  and 
under  the  tempestuous  seas."  And  in  the  Life  of  Doctor  Fian,  a  notable 
Sorcerer  :  "  All  they  together  went  to  sea,  each  one  in  a  riddle  or  cive,  and 
went  in  the  same  very  substantially,  with  flaggons  of  wine  making  merrie, 
and  drinking  by  the  way  in  the  same  riddles  or  cives/'  —  It  was  the  belief 
of  the  times  that,  though  a  witch  could  assume  the  form  of  any  animal  she 
pleased,  the  /ai/ would  still  be  wanting. 

4  I'll  do  is  a  threat  of  gnawing  a  hole  through  the  hull  of  the  ship  so  as 
to  make  her  spring  a-leak. 

^  This  free  gift  of  a  wind  is  to  be  taken  as  an  act  of  sisterly  kindness; 
witches  being  thought  to  have  the  power  o{  selling  winds. 


1 8  MACBETH.  ACT  I 

*J  Witch.    And  I  another. 

*i  Witch.    I  myself  have  all  the  other ; 

*And  the  very  points  they  blow, 

*A11  the  quarters  that  they  know 

*r  the  shipman's  card.^ 

*I  will  drain  him  dry  as  hay : 

*Sleep  shall  neither  night  nor  day 

*Hang  upon  his  penthouse  Hd  ;" 

*He  shall  live  a  man  forbid  :  '^ 

*Weary  sev'n-nights  nine  times  nine 

*Shall  he  dwindle,  peak,  and  pine  :  ^ 

*Though  his  bark  cannot  be  lost, 

*Yet  it  shall  be  tempest-toss'd. 

*Look  what  I  have. 
*2  Witch.    Show  me,  show  me. 
*/  Witch.    Here  I  have  a  pilot's  thumb, 

*Wreck'd  as  homeward  he  did  come. 

{^Dnnii  ivithin. 
*J  Witch.    A  drum,  a  drum  ! 

*Macbeth  doth  come. 
*A//.    The  Weird  Sisters,'**  hand  in  hand, 

'  The  seaman's  chart,  which  shows  all  the  points  of  the  compass,  as  we 
call  them,  marked  down  in  the  radii  of  a  circle. 

'  "  Penthouse  lid  "  is  eyelid  protected  as  by  a  penthouse  roof.  So  in 
Drayton's  David  and  Goliath:  "  His  brows  like  two  steep  penthouses  hung 
down  over  his  eyelids!' 

8  To  Wve.  forbid  vs,  to  live  under  a  curse  or  an  interdict ;  pursued  by  an 
evil  fate.  —  Sev'n-night  is  a  week. 

9  To  peak  is  to  grow  thin.  This  was  supposed  to  be  wrought  by  means 
of  a  waxen  figure.  Holinshed,  describing  the  means  used  for  destroying 
King  Duff,  says  that  the  witches  were  found  roasting  an  image  of  him  before 
the  fire ;  aiid  that,  as  the  image  wasted,  the  King's  body  broke  forth  in 
sweat,  while  the  words  of  enchantment  kept  him  from  sleep. 

1"  Weird  is  from  the  Saxon  wyrd,  and  means  the  same  as  the  l^aXm  fat  urn  ; 
so  that  weird  sisters  is  the  fatal  sisters,  or  the  sisters  of  fate.  Gawin  Doug« 
las,  in  his  translation  of  Virgil,  renders  ParccB  by  weird  sisters.  Which 
agfrees  well  with  Holinshed  in  the  passage  which  the  Poet  no  doubt  had  in 


MACBETH. 


^9 


*Posters'i  of  the  sea  and  land, 
*Thus  do  go  about,  about : 
*Thrice  to  thine,  and  thrice  to  mine, 
*And  thrice  again  to  make  up  nine.'- 
*Peace  !  the  charm's  wound  up. 

Enter  Macbeth  and  Banquo. 

Alach.    So  foul  and  fair  a  day  '^  I  have  not  seen. 

Ban.    How  far  is't  call'd  to  Forres  ?     What  are  these 
So  wither'd,  and  so  wild  in  their  attire, 
That  look  not  like  tli'  inhabitants  o'  the  Earth, 
And  yet  are  on't? —  Live  you?  or  are  you  aught 
That  man  may  question?     You  seem  to  understand  me, 
By  each  at  once  her  choppy  finger  laying 
Upon  her  skinny  lips:   you  should  be  women, 
And  yet  your  beards  forbid  me  to  interpret 
That  you  are  so. 

Macb.    Speak,  if  you  can  :  what  are  you  ? 

J  Witch.    All  hail,  Macbeth  !  hail  to  thee,  Thane  of  (ilamis  ! 

2  Witch.    All  hail,  Macbeth  !  hail  to  thee,  Thane  of  Cawdor  ! 

J  Witch.    All  hail,  Macbeth,  that  shalt  be  king  hereafter  ! 

Ban.    Good  sir,  why  do  you  start,  and  seem  to  fear 
Things  that  do  sound  so  fair? —  I'  the  name  of  truth. 
Are  ye  fantastical,'''  or  that  indeed 
Which  outwardly  ye  show?     My  noble  partner 

his  eye:  "The  common  opinion  was,  that  fliese  women  were  cither  the 
7ueird  sisters,  that  is  (as  ye  would  say)  xhe:  goddesses  ofdeslinie,  or  else  some 
nymphs  or  feiries,  indued  with  knowledge  of  prophesie  by  their  necroman- 
ticall  science,  bicause  everie  thing  came  to  passe  as  they  had  spoken." 

11  PosUrs  is  rapid  travellers  ;  going  with  a  postman's  speed. 

1-  Here  the  Witches  perform  a  sort  of  incantation  by  joining  hands,  and 
dancing  round  in  a  ring,  three  rounds  for  each.  Odd  numbers  and  multi- 
ples of  odd  numbers,  especially  three  and  nine,  were  thought  to  have  great 
magical  power  in  thus  winding  up  a  charm. 

13  A  day  fouled  with  storm,  but  brightened  with  victory. 

1*  That  is,  "  Are  ye  imaginary  beings,  creatures  oi fantasy  f" 


20  MACBETH.  act  i. 

You  greet  with  present  grace  and  great  prediction 
Of  noble  having  and  of  royal  hope,'^ 
That  he  seems  rapt  withal :  to  me  you  speak  not. 
If  you  can  look  into  the  seeds  of  time, 
And  say  which  grain  will  grow,  and  which  will  not, 
Speak,  then,  to  me,  who  neither  beg  nor  fear 
Your  favours  nor  your  hate. 
/  Witch.    Hail! 

2  Witch.    Hail  ! 

3  Witch.    Hail  ! 

1  Witch.    Lesser  than  Macbeth,  and  greater. 

2  Witch.    Not  so  happ}',  yet  niuch  happier. 

J  Witch.    Thou  shalt  get  kings,  though  thou  be  none. 

AH  Three.    So  all  hail,  Macbeth  and  Ranquo  ! 
Banquo  and  Macbeth,  all  hail  ! 

Aidcb.    Stay,  you  imperfect  speakers,  tell  me  more  : 
By  Sinel's  death  I  know  I'm  Thane  of  Glamis  ;  "^ 
But  how  of  Cawdor?  the  Thane  of  Cawdor  lives, 
A  prosperous  gentleman  ;  ^"^  and  to  be  king 
Stands  not  within  the  prospect  of  belief, 
No  more  than  to  be  Cawdor.     Say  from  whence 
You  owe  ^^  this  strange  intelligence?  or  why 
Upon  this  blasted  heath  you  stop  our  way 
With  such  prophetic  greeting?     Speak,  I  charge  you. 

[  Witches  vanish. 

15  Here,  again,  that  has  the  force  o^  so  that.  —  Present  grace  refers  to 
tioble  having ,  and  great  prediction  to  royal  hope  ;  and  the  Poet  often  uses 
having  iov  possession.  A  similar  distribution  of  terms  occurs  a  little  after: 
"  Who  neither  beg  nor  fear  your  favours  nor  your  hate." 

16  Macbeth  was  the  son  of  Sinel,  Thane  of  Glamis,  so  that  tkis  title  was 
rightfully  his  by  inheritance. 

1'  We  have  a  strange  discrepancy  here.  In  the  preceding  scene,  Mac- 
beth is  said  to  have  met  Cawdor  face  to  face  in  the  ranks  of  Norway:  he 
must  therefore  liave  known  him  to  be  a  rebel  and  traitor;  yet  he  here 
describes  him  in  terms  quite  inconsistent  with  such  knowledge. 

18  To  owe  for  to  own,  to  have,  to  possess,  occurs  continually. 


SCENE  HI.  MACBETH.  21 

Ban.    The  earth  hath  bubbles,  as  the  water  has, 
And  these  are  of  them.     Whither  are  they  vanish'd? 

Macb.    Into  the  air  ;  and  what  seem'd  corporal  melted 
As  breath  into  the  wind.     Would  they  had  stay'd  ! 

Dan.    Were  such  things  here  as  we  do  speak  about? 
Or  have  we  eaten  on  the  insane  root  ^^ 
That  takes  the  reason  prisoner? 

Mdib.    Your  children  shall  be  kings. 

Ban.  You  shall  be  king. 

Macb.    And  Thane  of  Cawdor  too  :  went  it  not  so  ? 

Ban.   To  th'  selfsame  tune  and  words.     Who's  here? 

Enter  Ross  an(^  Angus. 

Ross.    The  King  hath  happily  received,  Macbeth, 
The  news  of  thy  success  :  and,  when  he  reads 
Thy  personal  venture  in  the  rebels'  fight, 
His  wonders  and  his  praises  do  contend 
What  should  be  thine  or  his  :  ~^  silenced  with  that, 
In  viewing  o'er  the  rest  o'  the  selfsame  day. 
He  finds  thee  in  the  stout  Norweyan  ranks. 
Nothing  afeard  of  what  thyself  didst  make,-' 

^'^  "  The  insane  root "  is  henbane  or  hemlock.  So  in  Batman's  Commeti- 
fary  on  Bartholome  de  Proprietate  Rerum  :  "  Henbane  is  called  hisana,  mad, 
for  the  use  thereof  is  perillous ;  for  if  it  be  eate  or  dronke  it  breedeth  mad- 
nesse,  or  slow  lykenesse  of  sleepe.  Therefore  this  hearb  is  commonly  called 
mirilfdium,  for  it  taketh  away  wit  and  reason,"  And  in  Greene's  Never  too 
Late  :  "  You  have  gazed  against  the  sun,  and  so  blemished  your  sight,  oi 
else  you  have  eaten  of  the  roots  of  hemlock,  that  makes  men's  eyes  conceit 
unseen  objects." —  On  and  ^ywere  used  indifferently  in  such  cases. 

20  The»meaning  probably  is,  "  His  wonders  and  his  praises  are  so  earnest 
and  enthusiastic,  that  they  seem  to  be  debating  or  raising  the  question 
whether  what  is  his  ought  not  to  be  thine, —  whether  you  ought  not  to  be  in 
his  place."  Such  a  thought,  or  j^<?w//;^  thought,  on  the  King's  part,  would 
naturally  act  upon  Macbeth  as  a  further  spur  to  his  ambition.  But  that  is 
a  thought  which  the  King  cannot  breathe  aloud  ;  it  would  be  a  sort  of  trea- 
son to  the  State  and  to  himself;  he  is  silenced  hy  it.     See  Critical  Notes. 

21  That  is,  "  ttot  at  all  Sika.\d  of  the  death  which  you  were  dealing  upon 
the  enemy."     The  Poet  often  uses  nothing  thus  as  a  strong  negative. 


22  MACBETH.  ACT  i. 

Strange  images  of  death.     As  thick  as  tale 
Came  post  with  post ;  ^^  and  every  one  did  bear 
Thy  praises  in  his  kingdom's  great  defence, 
And  pour'd  them  down  before  him. 

Ang.  Wq  are  sent 

To  give  thee,  from  our  royal  master,  thanks  ; 
Only  to  herald  thee  into  his  sight, 
Not  pay  thee. 

Ross.    And,  for  an  earnest  of  a  greater  honour, 
He  bade  me,  from  him,  call  thee  Thane  of  Cawdor : 
In  which  addition,-^  hail,  most  worthy  thane  ! 
For  it  is  thine. 

Ban.    \_Aside.'\    What,  can  the  Devil  speak  true  ? 

Macb.  The  Thane  of  Cawdor  lives  :  why  do  you  dress  me 
In  borrow'd  robes  ? 

Ang.  Who  was  the  thane  lives  yet ; 

But  under  heavy  judgment  bears  that  life 
Which  he  deserves  to  lose.     Whether  he  was  combined 
With  those  of  Norway,  or  did  line  -■*  the  rebel 
With  hidden  help  and  vantage,  or  that  with  both 
He  labour'd  in  his  country's  wreck,  I  know  not; 
But  treasons  capital,  confess'd  and  proved, 
Have  overthrown  him. 

Macb.    {_Aside.']  Glamis,  and  Thane  of  Cawdor  ! 

The  greatest  is  behind.  —  \_To  Ross  and  Ang.]    Thanks  for 

your  pains.  — 
\_Aside  to  Ban.]   Do.you  not  hope  your  chiklren  sliall  be  kings, 

■"  Meaning,  "  messengers  came  as,  fast  as  one  can  county  The  use  of 
thick  {ox  fast  occurs  repeatedly.  So  we  have  speaks  thick  used  of  one  who 
talks  so  fast  that  his  words  tread  on  each  other's  heels.  —  The  Poet  often  has 
to  tell  also  for  to  count.  And  we  still  say  "  keep  tally  "  for  "  keep  count:' 
So  Milton  in  L Allegro  .  "  And  every  shepherd  tellshis  tale  ";  that  is,  counts 
the  7iumbe>-  of  his  sheep,  or  to  see  whether  the  number  is  full. 

23  Here,  as  often,  addition  is  title,  mark  of  distinction. 

2*  To  line,  here,  is  to  strengthen.     Often  so.     See  vol.  xii.  page  42,  note  i. 


SCENE  III.  MACBETH.  23 

When  those  that  gave  the  Thane  of  Cawdor  to  me 
Promised  no  less  to  them? 

Ban.    \_Aside  to  Macb.]    That,  trusted  home,^^ 
Might  yet  enkindle  you  unto  the  crown, 
Besides  the  Thane  of  Cawdor.     But  'tis  strange  : 
And  oftentimes,  to  win  us  to  our  harm, 
The  instruments  of  darkness  tell  us  truths ; 
Win  us  with  honest  trifles,  to  betray's 
In  deepest  consequence.-^  — 
Cousins,  a  word,  I  pray  you. 

ATacb.    \^Aside.^  Two  truths  are  told, 

As  happy  prologues  to  the  swelling  act 
Of  the  imperial  theme.-^  —  I  thank  you,  gentlemen,  — » 
\^Aside,']    This  supernatural  soliciting 
Cannot  be  ill ;  cannot  be  good  :   if  ill, 
U'hy  liath  it  given  me  earnest  of  success. 
Commencing  in  a  truth  ?     I'm  Thane  of  Cawdor  : 
If  good,  why  do  I  yield  to  that  suggestions^ 
Whose  horrid  image  doth  unfix  my  hair. 
And  make  my  seated  heart  knock  at  my  ribs, 
Against  the  use  of  nature  ?     Present  fears  ^^ 


25  Home  is  thoroughly  or  to  the  uttermost.     See  vol.  xv.  page  85,  note  I. 

26  Betray's  for  betray  us.  The  Poet  has  many  such  contractions.  —  It  is 
nowise  Hkely  that  Shakespeare  was  a  reader  of  Livy ;  yet  we  have  here  a 
striking  resemblance  to  a  passage  in  that  author,  Book  xxviii.  42,  4:  "  An 
Syphaci  Numidisque  credis  ?  satis  sit  semel  creditum :  non  semper  temeri- 
tas  est  felix,  ^\  fraus fidem  in  parvis  sibl  prcestru'it  ut,  quum  opera:  pretium 
sit,  cum  mercede  magna  fallat." 

~''  Happy  is  auspicious,  like  the  l^Xm  felix ;  swelling  is  grand,  imposing  ; 
and  act  is  drama.  Thus  the  image  is  of  the  stage,  with  an  august  drama 
of  kingly  state  to  be  performed ;  the  inspiring  prologue  has  been  spoken, 
and  the  glorious  action  is  about  to  commence. 

28  The  use  of  suggestion  for  temptation  was  common.  —  Macbeth  con- 
strues the  "prophetic  greeting"  into  an  instigation  to  murder,  and  accepts 
it  as  such,  though  while  doing  so  he  shudders  at  the  conception. 

20  Fears  for  objects  of  fear,  dangers  or  terrors  ;  the  effect  for  the  cause. 


24  MACBETH.  ACT  i. 

Are  less  than  horrible  imaginings  : 

My  thought,  whose  murder  yet  is  but  fantastical, 

Shakes  so  my  single  state  of  man,^"  that  function 

Is  smother'd  in  surmise  ;  and  nothing  is 

But  what  is  not/'^ 

Ban.  Look,  how  our  partner's  rapt. 

Macb.    \_Aside^    If  chance    will    have    me    King,    why, 
chance  may  crown  me, 
Without  my  stir. 

Ban.  New  honours  come  upon  him, 

Like  our  strange  garments,  cleave  not  to  their  mould 
But  with  the  aid  of  use. 

Macb.    \_Asider\  Come  what  come  may, 

Time  and  the  hour-^"-^  runs  through  the  roughest  day. 

Ban.    Worthy  Macbeth,  we  stay  upon  \our  leisure. ^^ 


3n  "  j^,jy  thought,  though  it  is  only  of  a  murder  in  imagination  or  fantasy, 
so  disturbs  my  feeble  manhood  of  reason."  The  Poet  repeatedly  uses  single 
thus  for  weak  ov  feeble. 

31  That  is, /ads  are  lost  sight  of;  he  sees  nothing  but  what  is  unreal,  noth- 
ing but  the  spectres  of  his  own  fancy.  So,  likewise,  in  the  preceding  clause  : 
the  mind  is  crippled,  disabled  for  its  proper  function  or  ofifice  by  the  appre- 
hensions and  surmises  that  thsong  upon  him.  Macbeth's  conscience  here 
acts  through  his  imagination,  sets  it  all  on  fire  ;  and  he  is  terror-stricken,  and 
lost  to  the  things  before  him,  as  the  elements  of  evil  within  him  gather  and 
fashion  themselves  into  the  wicked  purpose.  Of  this  wonderful  development 
of  character  Coleridge  justly  says :  "  So  surely  is  the  guilt  m  its  genu  ante- 
rior to  the  supposed  cause  and  immediate  temptation."  And  again  : 
"  Every  word  of  his  soliloquy  shows  the  early  birth-date  of  his  guilt.  He 
wishes  the  end,  but  is  irresolute  as  to  the  means ;  conscience  distinctly 
warns  him,  and  he  lulls  it  imperfectly." 

3-  "Time  and  the  hour"  is  an  old  reduplicate  phrase  occurring  repeat- 
edly in  the  writers  of  Shakespeare's  time.  The  Italians  have  one  just  like 
it,  —  //  tempo  e  I' ore.  The  sense  of  the  passage  is  well  explained  by  Heath  : 
"  The  advantage  of  time  and  of  seizing  the  favourable  hour,  whenever  it 
shall  present  itself,  will  enable  me  to  make  my  way  through  all  obstruction 
and  opposition.  Every  one  knows  the  Spanish  proverb,  — '  Time  and  I 
against  any  two.' " 

^'^  "  Stay  upon  your  leisure  "  is  stay /or  or  await  your  leisure. 


SCENE  IV.  MACBETH.  25 

Macb.    Give  me  your  favour  :   my  dull  brain  was  wrought 
With  things  forgotten.^"*     Kind  gentlemen,  your  pains 
Are  register'd  where  every  day  I  turn 
The  leaf  to  read  them.-^^     Let  us  toward  the  King.  — 
\^Aside  to  Ban.]    Think  upon  what  hath  clianced  \  and,  at 

more  time. 
The  interim  having  weigh'd  it,  let  us  speak 
Our  free  hearts  ^6  each  to  other. 

Ban.    \_Aside  to  Macb.]  Very  gladly. 

Macb.    \_Asi(fe   to    Ban.]    Till    then,   enough.  —  Come, 
friends.  \_Exeinit. 

Scene  IV.  —  Forres.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Flouris/t.     Enter  Duncan,  Malcolm,  Donalbain,  Lennox, 
and  Attendants. 

Dun.    Is  execution  done  on  Cawdor?     Are  not 
Those  in  commission  yet  return'd  ? 

Mat.  My  liege, 

They  are  not  yet  come  back.     But  I  have  spoke 
With  one  that  saw  him  die  ;  who  did  report, 
That  very  frankly  he  confess'd  his  treasons. 
Implored  your  Highness'  pardon,  and  set  forth 
A  deep  repentance  :   nothing  in  his  life 
Became  him  like  the  leaving  it  ;   he  died 
As  one  that  had  been  studied  in  his  death  ' 
To  throw  away  the  dearest  thing  he  owed, 
As  'twere  a  careless  trifle. - 

•■'*  "  Was  exercised  or  absorbed  in  trying  to  recall  forgotten  things."  A 
pretext  put  forth  to  hide  the  true  cause  of  his  trance  of  guilty  thought. 

85  He  means  that  he  has  noted  them  down  on  the  tablets  of  his  memory. 
See  vol.  xiv.  page  180,  notes  20  and  21. 

36  "  Speak  OMX  free  hearts  "  is  speak  our  hearts  y^-^-f/y. 

1  That  is,  well  instructed  in  the  art  of  dying. 

2  Meaning  a  trifle  not  worth  caring  for.     As  for  as  if.     Often  so. 


26 


MACr.ETH. 


£>un.  There's  no  art 

To  find  the  mind's  construction  in  the  face  : 
He  was  a  gentleman  on  whom  I  built 
An  absolute  trust.  — 

Eiiter  Macbeth,  Banquo,  Ross,  and  Angus. 

O  worthiest  cousin  ! 
The  sin  of  my  ingrntitude  even  now 
Was  heavy  on  me  :  thou'rt  so  far  before, 
That  swiftest  wing  of  recompense  is  slow 
To  overtake  thee.-"^     Would  thou  hadst  less  deserved, 
That  the  proportion  both  of  thanks  and  payment 
Might  have  been  mine  !"*  only  I've  left  to  say, 
More  is  thy  due  than  more  than  all  can  pay. 

Macb.    The  service  and  the  loyalty  I  owe. 
In  doing  it,  pays  itself.     Your  Highness'  part 
Is  to  receive  our  duties ;  and  our  duties 
Are  to  your  throne  and  state  children  and  servants  ;  ^ 
Which  do  but  what  they  should  by  doing  every  thing 
Safe  toward  your  love  and  honour.^ 

Dun.  Welcome  hither : 

I  have  begun  to  plant  thee,  and  will  labour 
To  make  thee  full  of  growing.  —  Noble  Banquo, 
That  hast  no  less  deserved,  nor  must  be  known 

3  The  meaning  is,  "  too  slow  to  overtake  thee." 

^  "  That  my  return  of  thanks  and  payment  might  have  been  proportio>iable 
to  thy  deserts,  or  in  due  proportion  with  them." 

^Duties  is  here  put,  apparently,  for  the  faculties  and  labours  of  duty; 
the  meaning  being,  "All  our  works  and  forces  of  duty  are  children  and  ser- 
vants to  your  throne  and  state."  Hypocrisy  and  hyperbole  are  apt  to  go 
together:  and  so  here  Macbeth  overacts  the  part  <jf  loyalty,  and  tries  how 
high  he  can  strain  up  his  expression  of  it. 

^  I  am  not  quite  clear  whether  this  means  "  With  a  firm  and  si/re  purpose 
to  have  you  loved  and  honoured,"  or,  "  So  as  to  merit  and  secure  love  and 
honour  from  you."  Perhaps  both  ;  as  the  Poet  is  fond  of  condensing  two 
-ir  more  meanings  into  one  expression. 


MACBETH. 


27 


No  less  to  have  done  so,  let  me  infold  thee 
And  hold  thee  to  my  heart. 

Ban.  There  if  I  grow, 

The  harvest  is  your  own. 

Dun.  My  plenteous  joys, 

Wanton  in  fulness,  seek  to  hide  themselves 
In  drops  of  sorrow.'''  —  Sons,  kinsmen,  thanes, 
And  you  whose  places  are  the  nearest,  know, 
We  will  establish  our  estate  upon 
Our  eldest,  Malcolm  ;  whom  we  name  hereafter 
The  Prince  of  Cumberland  :^  which  honour  must 
Not  unaccompanied  invest  him  only. 
But  signs  of  nobleness,  like  stars,  shall  shine 
On  all  deservers.  —  From  hence  to  Inverness, 
And  bind  us  further  to  you. 

Macb.    The  rest  is  labour,  wliich  ^  is  not  used  for  you. 
I'll  be  myself  the  harbinger,  and  make  joyful 
The  hearing  of  my  wife  with  your  approach  : 
So  humbly  take  my  leave. 

Dun.  My  worthy  Cawdor  ! 

*  Macb.    \_Aside7\    The  Prince  of  Cumberland  !   that   is  a 
step, 
*0n  which  I  must  fall  down,  or  else  o'erleap, 

"^  The  gentle  and  amiable  sovereign  means  that  his  joys  swell  up  30  high 
as  to  overflow  in  tears.     The  Poet  has  several  like  expressions. 

8  So  in  Holinshed:  "  Duncan,  having  two  sons,  made  the  elder  of  them, 
called  Malcolm,  Prince  of  Cumberland,  as  it  was  thereby  to  appoint  him  his 
successor  in  his  kingdome  immediatelie  after  his  decease.  Macbeth  sorely 
troubled  herewith,  for  that  he  saw  by  this  means  his  hope  sore  hindered, 
began  to  take  counsel  how  he  might  usurpe  the  kingdome  by  force,  having 
a  just  quarrel  so  to  doe,  (as  he  tooke  the  matter,)  for  that  Duncane  did 
what  in  him  lay  to  defraud  him  of  all  manner  of  title  and  claime,  which 
he  might  in  time  to  come  pretend,  unto  the  crowne."  Cumberland  was 
then  held  in  fief  of  the  English  crown. 

'J  Which  refers  to  rest,  not  to  labour.  "  Even  the  repose,  which  is  not 
taken  for  your  sake,  is  a  labour  to  me." 


28  MACBETH.  ACT  I. 

*For  in  my  way  it  lies.     Stars,  hide  }our  fires  ;  i" 

*Let  not  light  see  my  black  and  deep  desires  : 

*The  eye  wink  i^  at  the  hand  ;  yet  let  that  be, 

*Which  the  eye  fears,  when  it  is  done,  to  see.  \_Exi/. 

Dun.    True,  worthy  Banquo  :  ^-  he  is  full  so  valiant ; 
And  in  his  commendations  I  am  fed  ; 
It  is  a  banquet  to  me.     Let's  after  him, 
Whose  care  is  gone  before  to  bid  us  welcome  : 
It  is  a  peerless  kinsman.  \_Flourish.     Exeimt. 

Scene  V.  —  Inverness.     A  Room  in  Macbeth's  .Castle. 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth,  reading  a  letter. 

Lady  M.  [Reads.]  They  met  me  in  the  day  of  success ; 
and  I  have  learn' d  by  the  perfectest  report.,  they  liave  more  in 
them  than  mortal  knowledge.  IVhen  I  l>iirn\l  in  desire  to 
question  them  further,  they  made  themselves  air,  into  which 
they  vanished.  JVhiies  J  stood  rapt  in  the  wonder  of  it,  came 
missives  ^  from  the  King,  who  all-liaiVd  me  Thane  of  Caw- 
dor ;  by  7vhich  title,  before,  these  IVeird  Sisters  saluted  me, 
and  referr''d  me  to  the  coming  on  of  time,  with  -Hail,  king 
that  shalt  be  !  This  have  I  thought  good  to  deliver  thee,  my 
dearest  partner  of  greatness,  that  thou  mightst  not  lose  the 
dues  of  rejoicing,  by  being  igfioranf  of  what  greatness  is 
promised  thee.     Lav  it  to  thy  heart,  anil  farewell. 

10  We  are  not  to  understand  from  this  that  the  present  scene  takes  place 
in  the  night.  Macbeth  is  contemplating  night  as  the  time  when  the  murder 
is  to  be  done,  and  his  appeal  to  the  stars  has  reference  to  that. 

11  "Let  the  eye  wink  "  is  the  meaning.      Whik  at  is  encourage  ox  prompt. 

12  During  Macbeth's  last  speech  Duncan  and  Banquo  were  conversing 
apart,  he  being  the  subject  of  their  talk.  The  beginning  of  Duncan's  speech 
refers  to  something  Banquo  has  said  in  praise  of  Macbeth. 

1  Missives  for  messengers.  So  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.  2 :  "  And 
with  taunts  did  gibe  my  missive  out  of  audience." 


SCENE  V.  MACBETH.  29 

Glamis  thou  art,  and  Cawdor,  and  shalt  be 

What  thou  art  promised.     Yet  do  I  fear  thy  nature  ; 

It  is  too  full  o'  the  milk  of  human  kindness 

To  catch  the  nearest  way  :  thou  wouldst  be  great ; 

Art  not  without  ambition,  but  without 

The  illness  -  should  attend  it :   what  thou  wouldst  highly, 

That  wouldst  thou  holily  ;  wouldst  not  play  false, 

And  yet  wouldst  wrongly  win  :  thou'dst  have,  great  Glamis, 

That  which  cries,  Thus  thou  viiest  do,^  if  thou  have  it,  — 

An  act  which  rather  thou  dost  fear  to  do 

Than  wishest  should  be  undone.      Hie  thee  hither, 

That  I  may  pour  my  spirits  in  thine  ear, 

And  chastise  with  the  valour  of  my  tongue 

All  that  impedes  thee  from  the  golden  round 

Which  fate  and  metaphysical  ■*  aid  doth  seem 

To  have  thee  crown'd  withal.  — 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

What  is  your  tidings? 

Mess.   The  King  comes  here  to-night. 

Lady  M.  Thou'rt  mad  to  say  it : 

Is  not  thy  master  with  him  ?  who,  were't  so. 
Would  have  inform'd  for  preparation. 

Mess.    So  please  you,  it  is  true.     Our  thane  is  coming  : 

2  Illness  in  tlie  sense,  not  only  of  wickedness,  but  of  remorselessness  or 
hardnessof  heart.  — "  Macbeth,"  says  Coleridge,  "  is  described  by  Lady  Mac- 
beth so  as  at  the  same  time  to  reveal  her  own  character.  Could  he  have 
every  thing  he  wanted,  he  would  rather  have  it  innocently;  ignorant,  as, 
alas,  how  many  of  us  are  1  that  he  who  wishes  a  temporal  end  for  itself  does 
in  truth  will  the  means ;  and  hence  the  danger  of  indulging  fancies." 

3  Editors  differ  as  to  how  much  is  here  uttered  by  the  voice  which  Lady 
Macbeth  imagines  speaking  to  her  husband.     See  Critical  Notes. 

4  Metaphysical  for  supernatural.  So  in  Florio's  World  of  Words,  1598  : 
"  Metafisico,  one  that  professcth  things  supematurall."  And  in  Minsheu's 
Spanish  Dictionary,  1599:  "  Metafisica,  things  supematurall,  metaphisickes." 
—  For  this  use  oi  seem,  see  page  15,  note  15. 


30  MACBETH.  ACT  I 

One  of  my  fellows  had  the  speed  of  him  ; 
Who,  almost  dead  for  breath,  had  scarcely  more 
Than  would  make  up  his  message. 

Lady  M.  Give  him  tending  ; 

He  brings  great  news.  —  S^Exit  Messenger. 

The  raven  himself  is  hoarse 
That  croaks  the  fatal  entrance  ^  of  Duncan 
Under  my  battlements.  —  Come,  you  spirits 
That  tend  on  mortal  '^  thoughts,  unsex  me  here ; 
And  fill  me  from  the  crown  to  th'  toe  top-full 
Of  direst  cruelty  !  make  thick  my  blood  ; 
Stop  up  th'  access  and  passage  to  remorse,''' 
That  no  compunctious  visitings  of  nature 
Shake  my  fell  purpose,  nor  break  peace  between 
The  effect  and  it  !  ^     Come  to  my  woman's  breasts, 
And  take  my  milk  for  gall,''  \'ou  murdering  ministers, 
Wherever  in  your  sightless  substances 

5  Meaning,  probably,  the  raven  has  made  himself  hoarse  with  croaking,  or 
has  croaked  so  loud  and  long  as  to  become  hoarse,  over  the  fatal  entrance, 
&c.  The  figure  of  speech  called  prolepsis.  Shakespeare  has  other  allu- 
sions to  the  ominousness  of  the  raven's  croak ;  as  he  also  has  many  such 
anticipative  expressions.     See  vol.  xiii.  page  i88,  note  I. 

6  Mortal  and  deadly  were  synonymous  in  Shakespeare's  time.  Later  in 
this  play  we  have  "  the  mortal  sword,"  and  "  7nortal  gashes."  —  The  spirits 
here  addressed  are  thus  described  in  Nashe's  Pierce  Pennilesse  :  "  The 
second  kind  of  devils,  which  he  most  employeth,  are  those  northern  A/artii, 
called  the  spirits  of  revenge,  and  the  authors  of  massacres,  and  seedsmen 
of  mischief;  for  they  have  commission  to  incense  men  to  rapines,  sacrilege, 
theft,  murder,  wrath,  fury,  and  all  manner  of  cruelties." 

■f  Remorse  here  means /i/j',  the  relentings  of  compassion;  as  it  generally 
does  in  the  writings  of  Shakespeare's  time. 

8  Pea'^e  is  of  course  broken  between  the  effect  and  the  purpose  when  the 
two  stand  in  conflict  or  at  odds  with  each  other;  that  is,  when  the  purpose 
remains  unexecuted.     See  Critical  Notes. 

9  "  Take  away  my  milk,  and  give  me  gall  instead,"  is  probably  the  mean- 
ing. In  her  fiery  thirst  of  power,  Lady  Macbeth  feels  that  her  woman's 
heart  is  unequal  to  the  calls  of  her  ambition,  and  she  would  fain  exchange 
her  "  milk  of  human  kindness,"  for  a  fiercer  infusion. 


SCENE  V.  MACBETH.  3 1 

You  wait  on  nature's  mischief !     Come,  thick  night, 
And  pall  thee  i"  in  the  dunnest  smoke  of  Hell, 
That  my  keen  knife  see  not  the  wound  it  makes. 
Nor  Heaven  peep  through  the  blanket  of  the  dark,ii 
To  cry  Hold,  hold!  — 

Enter  Macbeth. 

Great  Glamis  !  worthy  Cawdor  ! 
Greater  than  both,  by  the  all-hail  hereafter  ! 
Thy  letters  have  transported  me  beyond 
This  ignorant  present,  and  I  feel  now 
The  future  in  the  instant. i- 

Macb.  My  dearest  love, 

Duncan  comes  here  to-night. 

Lady  Af.  And  when  goes  hence  ? 

Macb.    To-morrow,  —  as  he  purposes. 

Lady  M.  O,  never 

Shall  Sun  that  morrow  see  ! 
Your  face,  my  thane,  is  as  a  book  where  men 
May  read  strange  matters  :  to  beguile  the  time, 
Look  like  the  time  ;  ^^  i^g^r  welcome  in  your  eye, 

1"  "  Thick  night  "  is  explained  by  "  light  thickens"  later  in  the  play.  We 
still  have  the  phrase  "thick  darkness."  —  To  pall  is  to  robe,  to  shroud,  to 
wrap  :  from  the  Latin  pallium,  a  cloak  or  mantle. 

1^  The  metaphor  of  darkness  being  a  blanket  wrapped  round  the  world, 
so  as  to  keep  the  Divine  Eye  from  seeing  what  Lady  Macbeth  longs  and 
expects  to  have  done,  is  just  such  a  one  as  it  was  fitting  for  the  boldest  of 
poets  to  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  boldest  of  women.  The  old  poets,  how- 
ever, were  rather  fond  of  representing  night  in  some  such  way.  So  in  The 
Faerie  Qiieene,  i.  4,  44 :  "  Now  whenas  darksome  night  had  all  displayd  her 
coleblacke  curtein  over  brightest  skye."  And  in  Milton's  Ode  on  the  Pas- 
sion :  "  Befriend  me,  night;  over  the  pole  thy  thickest  mantle  throw." 

^"^  Instant  in  the  Latin  sense  oi  instans ;  that  which  is  pressing.  The 
enthusiasm  of  her  newly-kindled  expectation  quickens  the  dull  present  with 
the  spirit  of  the  future,  and  gives  to  hope  the  life  and  substance  of  fruition. 

13  Titne  is  here  put  for  its  contents,  or  what  occurs  in  time.  It  is  a  time 
of  full-hearted  welcome  and  hospitality ;  and  such  are  the  looks  which  Mac- 
beth is  urged  to  counterfeit. 


32  MACBETH.  ACT  I. 

Your  hand,  your  tongue  :  look  like  the  innocent  flower, 
But  be  the  serpent  under't.     He  that's  coming 
Must  be  provided  for  :   and  you  shall  put 
This  night's  great  business  into  my  dispatch  ; 
*Which  shall  to  all  our  nights  and  days  to  come 
*Give  solely  sovereign  sway  and  masterdom. 

Macb.    We  will  speak  further. 

*Lady  M.  Only  look  up  clear ; 

*To  alter  favour  i'*  ever  is  to  fear  : 
*  Leave  all  the  rest  to  me.  \_Exeunf. 

ScENK  VI.  — •  Tlie  Saute.     Before  Macbeth's  Castle. 

Hautbovs  and  torches.  Enter  Duncan,  Malcolm,  Donal- 
BAiN,  B.ANQuo,  Lennox,  Macduff,  Ross,  Angus,  and 
Attendants. 

Dun.    This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  seat ;  the  air 
Nimbly  and  sweetly  recommends  itself 
Unto  our  gentle  senses. ^ 

Ban.  The  guest  of  Summer, 

The  temple-haunting  martlet,  does  approve,- 
By  his  loved  mansionry,  that  the  heavens'  breath 
Smells  wooingly  here  :   no  jutty,  frieze, 
Buttress,  nor  coign  of  vantage,-*  but  this  bird 
Hath  made  his  pendent  bed  and  procreant  cradle  : 

w  Favour  is  countenance.^  Lady  Macbeth  is  here  mad,  or  inspired,  with 
a  kind  of  extemporized  ferocity,  so  that  she  feels  herself  able  to  perform 
without  flinching  the  crime  she  has  conceived,  if  her  husband  will  only  keep 
his  face  from  telling  any  tales  of  their  purpose. 

1  That  is,  "  The  air,  by  its  purity  and  sweetness,  attempers  our  senses  to 
its  own  state,  and  so  tnakes  them  gentle,  or  sweetens  them  into  gentleness." 
Another  proleptical  form  of  speech.     See  page  30,  note  5. 

2  Approve  in  the  sense  ol prove  simply,  or  make  evident. 

3  "  Coigne  of  vantage  "  is  a  convenient  nook  or  corner ;  coigne  being  a 
corner-stone  at  the  exterior  angle  of  a  building.  So  in  Coriola7iHs,  v.  4 : 
"  See  you  yond  coigne  o'  the  Capital,  yond  corner-stone  ?  " 


SCENE  VI.  MACBETH.  33 

Where  they  most  breed  and  haunt,  I  liave  observed 
The  air  is  dehcate."* 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth. 

Dun.  See,  see,  our  honour'd  hostess  !  — 

The  love  that  follows  iis  sometime^  is  our  trouble, 
Which  still  we  thank  as  love.     Herein  I  teach  you 
How  you  shall  bid  God  'ield  us*'  for  your  pains 
And  thank  us  for  your  trouble. 

Lady  M.  All  our  service 

In  every  point  twice  done,  and  then  done  double, 
Were  poor  and  single  ~  business,  to  contend 
Against®  those  honours  deep  and  broad  wherewith 
Your  Majesty  loads  our  House  :   for  those  of  old. 
And  the  late  dignities  heap'd  up  to^  them, 
We  rest  your  hermits."^ 

Dim.  Where's  the  Thane  of  Cawdor? 

We  coursed  him  at  the  heels,  and  had  a  purpose 
To  be  his  purveyor  :  "   but  he  rides  well  ; 

*  The  subject  of  this  quiet  and  easy  conversation  gives  that  repose  so 
necessary  to  the  mind  after  the  tumultuous  bustle  of  the  preceding  scenes, 
and  perfectly  contrasts  the  scene  of  horror  that  succeeds.  This  also  is  fre- 
quently the  practice  of  Homer,  who,  from  the  midst  of  battles  and  horrors, 
relieves  and  refreshes  the  mind  of  the  reader,  by  introducing  some  quiet 
rural  image  or  picture  of  familiar  domestic  life.  —  REYNOLDS. 

•''  Sotnetime  and  sometimes  were  used  indiscriminately. 

•^  "  God  yield  us,"  that  is,  reward  us.  —  To  bid  is  here  used  in  its  old 
sense  of  to  ;>r<jj/.  So  to  ^/(^  the  beads  is  to  pray  through  the  rosary.  See 
vol.  X.  page  193,  note  11.  —  The  kind-hearted  monarch  means  that  his  love 
is  wliat  puts  him  upon  troubling  them  thus,  and  therefore  they  will  be  grate- 
ful for  the  pains  he  causes  them. 

^  Here,  again,  too  is  understood  before  poor.  Single,  again,  also,  in  the 
sense  of  weak  or  small.     See  page  24,  note  30,  and  page  26,  note  3. 

*  "To  contend  against  "  here  means  to  via  with,  to  counterpoise  or  match. 
'J  Here,  as  often,  to  has  the  force  of  in  addition  to. 

1"  That  is,  "  We  remain  as  hermits  or  beadsmen  to  pray  for  you." 
11  Purveyor  is,  properly,  one  sent  before,  to  provide  food  and  drink  for 
some  person  or  party  that  is  to  follow. 


34  MACBETH.  ACT  I 

And  his  great  love,  sharp  as  his  spur,  hath  holp  ^^  him 
To  his  home  before  us.     Fair  and  noble  hostess, 
We  are  your  guest  to-night. 

Lady  M.  Your  servants  ever 

Have  theirs,  themselves,  and  what  is  theirs,  in  compt,!^ 
To  make  their  audit  at  your  Highness'  pleasure, 
Still  to  return  your  own. 

Dun.  Give  me  your  hand  ; 

Conduct  me  to  mine  host :  we  love  him  highly. 
And  shall  continue  our  graces  towards  him. 
By  your  leave,  hostess. i''  \_Exeunt. 

Scene  VH.  — ■  Tlie  Same.     A  Lobby  in  Macbeth's  Castle. 

Hautboys  and  torches.  Enter,  and  pass  over,  a  Sewer,  i  and 
divers  Servants  with  dishes  and  semice.  Then  enter 
Macbeth. 

Macb.    If  it  were  done  when  'tis  done,  then  'twere  well 
It  were  done  quickly  :~  if  th'  assassination 
f  Jould  trammel  up  the  consequence,  and  catch. 
With  his  surcease,  success  ;-^  that  but  this  blow 

12  Holp  is  tlie  old  preterite  of  help.     So  in  The  Psalter,  generally. 

13  "  Theirs,  and  what  is  theirs,"  means  their  kindred  and  dependants,  and 
whatever  belongs  to  them  as  property.  —  hi  cotnpt  is  ready  to  answer,  subject 
to  account  or  reckoning.  So  in  Othello,  v.  2 :  "  When  we  shall  meet  at 
cotnpt,  this  look  of  thine  will  hurl  my  soul  from  Heaven,  and  fiends  will 
snatch  at  it  "  ;  at  covtpt  for  the  day  of  reckoning,  or  the  Judgment-Day. 

1*  "  By  your  leave  "  is  probably  meant  as  a  respectful  prologue  to  a  kiss. 

1  An  officer  so  called  from  his  placing  the  dishes  on  the  table.  From 
the  French  essayeur,  used  of  one  who  tasted  each  dish  to  show  that  there 
was  no  poison  in  the  food. 

2  "  If  all  were  done  when  the  murder  is  done,  or  if  the  mere  doing  of  the 
deed  were  sure  to  finish  the  matter,  then  the  quicker,  the  better." 

3  That  is,  if  the  assassination  could  foreclose  or  shut  off  all  sequent 
issues,  and  end  with  itself.  His  for  its,  referring  to  assassination.  —  To 
trammel  i/p  is  to  entangle  as  in  a  net.     So  Spenser  has  the  noun  in  The 


SCENE  VII.  MACBETH.  35 

Might  be  the  be-all  and  the  end-all  here, 
But  here,  upon  this  bank  and  shoal  of  time. 
We'd  jump*!  the  life  to  come.     But  in  these  cases 
We  still  have  judgment  here  ;  that-'^  we  but  teach 
Bloody  instructions,  which,  being  taught,  return 
To  plague  th'  inventor  :  this  even-handed  justice 
Commends  th'  ingredients  of  our  poison'd  chalice 
To  our  own  lips.     He's  here  in  double  trust : 
First,  as  I  am  his  kinsman  and  his  subject, 
Strong  both  against  the  deed  ;  then,  as  his  host. 
Who  should  against  his  murderer  shut  the  door. 
Not  bear  the  knife  myself     Besides,  this  Duncan 
Hath  borne  his  faculties'^  so  meek,  hath  been 
So  clear  in  his  great  office,  that  his  virtues 
Will  plead  like  angels,  trumpet-tongued,  against 
The  deep  damnation  of  his  taking-ofif; 
And  pity,  like  a  naked  new-born  babe 
Striding  the  blast,  or  Heaven's  cherubin  horsed 
Upon  the  sightless  couriers'^  of  the  air. 
Shall  blow  the  horrid  deed  in  every  eye. 
That  tears  shall  drown  the  wind.  — - 1  have  no  spur 

Faerie  Qiieeac,  iii.  9,  20:  "Her  golden  locks,  that  were  in  tramells  gay  up- 
bounden."  —  Surcease  is,  properly,  a  legal  term,  meaning  the  arrest  or  stay 
of  a  suit.  So  in  Bacon's  essay  Of  Church  Controversies  :  "It  is  more  than 
time  that  there  were  an  end  and  surcease  made  of  this  immodest  and  de- 
formed manner  of  writing,"  &c.  —  Here,  as  oiX^ri,  success  probably  has  the 
9,ense  oi  sequel,  succession,  ox  succeeding  events.  So  that  to  catch  success  is 
to  arrest  and  stop  off  all  further  outcome,  or  all  entail  of  danger. 

■*  To  jump  is  to  risk,  to  hazard.     Repeatedlv  so. 

S  That,  in  old  English,  often  has  the  force  oi  since,  or  inasmuch  as. 

P  Faculties  in  an  official  sense;  honours,  dignities,  prerogatives,  whatever 
pertains  to  his  regal  seat. 

■^  "  Sightless  couriers  of  the  air"  means  the  same  as  what  the  Poet  else- 
where calls  "  the  viewless  winds." — The  metaphor  of  tears  drowning  the 
wind  is  taken  from  what  we  sometimes  see  in  a  thunder-shower ;  which  is 
ushered  in  by  a  higli  wind  ;  but,  when  the  rain  gets  to  falling  hard,  the  wind 
subsides,  as  if  strangled  by  the  water.     See  vol.  xvi.  page  290,  note  7. 


S6  MACBETH.  ACT  I. 

To  prick  the  sides  of  my  intent,  but  only- 
Vaulting  ambition,  which  o'erleaps  itself,^ 
And  falls  on  th'  other  side.  — 

Efiter  Lady  Macbeth. 

How  now  !  what  news  ? 

Lady  M.    He  has  almost  supp'd  :  why  have  you  left  the 
chamber  ? 

Macb.    Hath  he  ask'd  for  me  ? 

Lady  M.  Know  you  not  he  has  ? 

Macb.    We  will  proceed  no  further  in  this  business  : 
He  hath  honour'd  me  of  late  ;  and  I  have  bought 
Golden  opinions  from  all  sorts  of  people, 
Which  would  9  be  worn  now  in  their  newest  gloss, 
Not  cast  aside  so  soon. 

Lady  M.  Was  the  hope  drunk 

Wherein  you  'dress'd  yourself? i"  hath  it  slept  since? 
And  wakes  it  now,  to  look  so  green  and  pale 
At  what  it  did  so  freely?     From  this  time 
Such  I  account  thy  love.     Art  thou  afeard 
To  be  the  same  in  thine  own  act  and  valour 
As  thou  art  in  desire  ?     Wouldst  thou  lack  that 
Which  thou  esteem'st  the  ornament  of  life, 

8  Self  here  stands  for  aim  or  purpose  ;  as  we  often  say,  such  a  one  over- 
shot  himself,  that  is,  overshot  his  mark  or  aim. 

9  Would  ior  should.     The  two  were  often  used  indiscriminately. 

1"  Every  student  of  Shakespeare  knows  that  he  often  uses  to  address  for 
to  make  ready  or  to  prepare.  And  he  repeatedly  has  the  shortened  form 
'dress  in  the  same  sense.  See  vol.  xvi.  page  221,  note  29.  From  oversight 
of  this,  some  strange  comments  have  been  made  upon  the  present  passage, 
as  if  it  meant  that  Macbeth  had  put  on  hope  as  a  dress.  The  meaning  I 
take  to  bf-  something  thus-  "Was  it  a  drunken  man's  hope,  iti  the  strength 
of  -which  you  inade  yourself  ready  for  the  killing  of  Duncan  ?  and  does  that 
hope  now  wake  from  its  drunken  sleep,  to  shudder  and  turn  pale  at  the  prep- 
aration which  it  made  so  freely?"  In  accordance  with  this  explanation, 
the  Lady's  next  speech  shows  that  at  some  former  time  Macbeth  had  been, 
or  had  fancied  himself,  ready  to  tnake  an  opportunity  for  the  murder. 


SCENE  VII.  MACBETH.  37 

And  live  a  coward  in  thine  own  esteem, 
Letting  /  dare  not  wait  upon  /  would, 
Like  the  poor  cat  i'  the  adage?" 

Mad).  Pr'ythee,  peace  : 

I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man  ; 
Who  dares  do  more  is  none. 

Lady  M.  What  beast  12  was't,  then, 

That  made  you  break  this  enterprise  to  me? 
When  you  durst  do  it,  then  you  were  a  man  ; 
And,  to  be  more  than  what  you  were,  you  would 
Be  so  much  more  the  man.     Nor  time  nor  place 
Did  then  adhere, ^^  and  yet  you  would  make  both  : 
They've  made  themselves,  and  that  their  fitness  now 
Does  unmake  you.     I've  given  suck,  and  know 
How  tender  'tis  to  love  the  babe  that  milks  me  : 
I  would,  while  it  was  smiling  in  my  face. 
Have  pluck'd  my  nipple  from  his  boneless  gums, 
And  dash'd  the  brains  on't  out,  had  I  so  sworn 
As  vou  have  done  to  this.''* 


11  The  adage  of  the  cat  is  among  Heywood's  Proverbs,  1566:  "The  cat 
would  eate  fishe,  and  would  not  wet  her  feete." 

12  The  word  beast  is  exceedingly  well  chosen  here  :  it  conveys  a  stinging 
allusion  to  what  Macbeth  has  just  said  :  "  If  3'ou  dare  do  all  that  may  be- 
come a  man,  then  what  beast  was  it  that  put  this  enterprise  into  your  head  ?  " 
See  Critical  Notes. 

13  Adhere  in  the  sense  of  cohere  ;  that  is,  consist  with  the  purpose.  —  This 
passage  infers  that  the  murdering  of  Duncan  had  been  a  theme  of  conver- 
sation between  Macbeth  and  his  wife  long  before  the  weird  salutation.  He 
was  then  for  making  a  time  and  place  for  the  deed  ;  yet,  now  that  they  have 
made  themselves  to  his  hand,  he  is  unmanned  by  them. 

!■*  Lady  Macbeth  begins  with  acting  a  part  which  is  really  foreign  to  her ; 
but  which,  notwithstanding,  such  is  her  energy  of  will,  she  braves  out  to 
issues  so  overwhelming,  that  lier  husband  and  many  others  believe  it  to  be 
her  own.  It  is  said  that  Mrs.  Siddons  used  to  utter  the  closing  words  of 
this  speech  in  a  scream,  as  though  scared  from  her  propriety  by  the  audacity 
of  her  own  tongue.  And  I  can  well  conceive  how  a  spasmodic  action  of 
fear  might  lend  to  such  a  woman  as  Lady  Macbeth  an  appearance  of  su- 


38  .  MACBETH, 

Macb.  If  we  should  fail,  — ■ 

Lady  M.  We  fail.i^ 

But  screw  your  courage  to  the  sticking-place,^*^ 
And  we'll  not  fail.     When  Duncan  is  asleep,  — 
Whereto  the  rather  shall  his  day's  hard  journey 
Soundly  invite  him,  — ■  his  two  chamberlains 
Will  I  with  wine  and  wassail  so  convince, ^^ 
That  memory,  the  warder  of  the  brain, 
Shall  be  a  fume,  and  the  receipt  of  reason 
A  limbeck  only  :  '^  when  in  swinish  sleep 
Their  drenched  natures  lie  as  in  a  death, 
What  cannot  you  and  I  perform  upon 


perhuman  or  inhuman  boldness.  At  all  events,  it  seems  clear  enough  that 
in  this  case  her  fierce  vehemence  of  purpose  rasps  her  woman's  feelings  to 
the  quick;  and  the  pang  thence  resulting  might  well  utter  itself  in  a  scream. 

15  The  sense  of  this  much-disputed  passage  I  take  to  be  simply  this  :  "  If 
we  should  fiiil,  why,  then,  to  be  sure,  we  fail,  and  it  is  all  over  with  us."  So 
long  as  there  is  any  hope  or  prospect  of  success,  Lady  Macbeth  is  for  going 
ahead;  and  she  has  a  mind  to  risk  all  and  lose  all,  rather  than  let  slip  any 
chance  of  being  queen.  And  why  should  she  not  be  as  ready  to  jump  the 
present  life  in  such  a  cause  as  her  husband  is  to  "jump  the  life  to  come  "? 
See  Critical  Notes. 

16  A  metaphor  from  screwing  up  the  cords  of  stringed  instruments  to 
the  proper  tension,  when  the  peg  remains  fast  in  its  sticking-place. 

1''  To  convince  is  to  overcome  or  subdue.  —  Wassail  is  an  old  word  for 
quaffing,  carousing,  or  drinking  to  one's  health. 

18  The  language  and  imagery  of  this  strange  passage  are  borrowed  fronv 
the  distillery,  as  it  was  in  Shakespeare's  time.  Limbeck  is  alembic,  the  cap 
of  a  still,  into  which  the  fumes  rise  before  passing  into  the  condenser.  Re- 
ceipt is  receptacle,  or  receiver.  The  old  anatomists  divided  the  brain  into 
three  ventricles,  in  the  hindmost  of  which,  the  cerebellum,  the  memory  was 
posted  like  a  keeper  or  sentinel  to  warn  the  reason  against  attack.  When 
by  intoxication  the  memory  is  converted  to  a  fume,  the  sphere  of  reason 
will  be  sc  filled  therewith  as  to  be  like  the  receiver  of  a  still;  and  in  this 
state  of  the  man  all  sense  or  intelligence  of  what  has  happened  will  be  suf- 
focated. Such  appears  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  passage;  which  is  far 
from  being  a  felicitous  one.  The  Poet  elsewhere  uses  fume  thus;  as  in 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.  i :  "  Tie  up  the  libertine  in  a  field  of  feasts,  keep 
his  hx7i\n  futning." 


MACBETH. 


39 


Th'  unguarded  Duncan  ?  what  not  put  upon 
His  spongy  '^  officers,  who  shall  bear  the  guilt 
Of  our  great  quell?-" 

Macb.  Bring  forth  men-children  only  ; 

For  thy  undaunted  mettle  should  compose 
Nothing  but  males.     Will  it  not  be  received, 
When  we  have  mark'd  with  blood  those  sleepy  two 
Of  his  own  chamber,  and  used  their  very  daggers, 
That  they  have  done't  ? 

Lady  AT.  Who  dares  receive  it  other,-^ 

As  we  shall  make  our  griefs  and  clamour  roar 
Upon  his  death  ? 

Macb.  I'm  settled,  and  bend  up 

Each  corporal  agent  to  this  terrible  feat. 
Away,  and  mock  the  time  with  fairest  show  : 
False  face  must  hide  what  the  false  heart  doth  know. 

\_Excuni. 


ACT    II. 

Scene  I.  —  Inverness.     Court  of  MxcB^rn's  Castle. 

Enter  'QAnquo,  preceded  by  Fleance  with  a  torch. 

Ban.    How  goes*  the  night,  boy  ? 

Fie.    The  Moon  is  down  ;   I  ha\e  not  heard  the  clock. 
Ban.    .\nd  she  goes  down  at  twelve. 

Fie.  I  take't,  'tis  later,  sir. 

Ban.  Hold,  take  my  sword.  There's  husbandry' in  Heaven; 
Their  candles  are  all  out.     Take  thee  that  too.  — 

19  Spongy  because  they  soak  up  so  much  liquor. 

20  Quell  is  murder  ;  from  the  Saxon  quellan,  to  kill. 

-1  That  is,  "Who  will  dare  to  understand  it  otherwise?"  —  As  is  here 
equivalent  to  since  or  seeing  that. 

1  The  heavens  are  economizing  their  light.  Frugality  or  economy  is  one 
of  the  old  senses  of  husbandry.     Heaven  is  here  a  collective  noun. 


40  MACBETH.  act  II. 

A  heavy  summons  lies  like  lead  upon  me, 
And  yet  I  would  not  sleep.  —  Merciful  powers, 
Restrain  in  me  the  cursed  thoughts  that  nature 
Gives  way  to  in  repose  !~ 

Enter  Macbeth,  and  a  Servant  luith  a  torch.  ■ 

Give  me  my  sword.  — 
Who's  there  ? 

Macb.    A  friend. 

Ban.    What,  sir,  not  yet  at  rest?     The  King's  a-bed  : 
He  hath  been  in  unusual  pleasure,  and 
Sent  forth  great  largess  to  your  officers  :  ^ 
This  diamond  he  greets  your  wife  withal, 
By  th'  name  of  most  kind  hostess  ;  and  shut  up'* 
In  measureless  content. 

Macb.  Being  unprepared, 

Our  will  became  the  servant  to  defect ;  ^ 
Which  else  should  free  have  wrought. 

Ban.  All's  well. 

I  dreamt  last  night  of  the  three  Weird  Sisters  : 
To  you  they've  show'd  some  truth. 

-  It  appears  afterwards  that  Banquo  has  been  dreaming  of  the  Weird 
Sisters.  He  understands  full  well  how  their  greeting  may  act  as  an  incen- 
tive to  crime,  and  shrinks  with  pious  horror  from,  the  poison  of  such  evil 
suggestions,  and  seeks  refuge  in  prayer  from  the  invasion  of  guilty  thoughts 
even  in  his  sleep.  Herein  his  character  stands  in  marked  contrast  with 
that  of  Macbeth,  whose  mind  is  inviting  wicked  thoughts,  and  catching 
eagerly  at  temptation,  and  revolving  how  he  may  work  the  guilty  sugges- 
tions through  into  act. 

3  Officers  are  those  having  in  charge  the  various  branches  of  household, 
work,  such  as  cook,  butler,  &c. ;  as  the  several  rooms  used  for  those 
branches  were  called  offices.     See  vol.  x.  page  145,  note  12. 

4  Shut  up  probably  means  composed  himself  to  rest.  The  phrase  may  be 
a  little  quaint ;  but  I  think  it  well  expresses  the  act  of  closing  one's  mind  to 
the  cares  and  interests  of  the  world. 

5  A  man  may  be  said  to  be  the  servant  of  that  which  he  cannot  help  : 
and  Macbeth  means  that  his  will  would  have  made  ampler  preparation,  but 
that  it  was  fettered  by  want  of  time. 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  4I 

Mad).  I  think  not  of  them  : 

Yet,  when  we  can  entreat  an  hour  to  serve, 
We'd  spend  it  in  some  words  upon  that  business. 
If  you  would  grant  the  time. 

Ban.  At  your  kind'st  leisure. 

Macb.    If  you  shall  cleave  to  my  consent,*^  when  'tis. 
It  shall  make  honour  for  you. 

Ba7i.  So  I  lose  none 

In  seeking  to  augment  it,  but  still  keep 
Mv  bosom  franchised,  and  allegiance  clear, 
I  shall  be  counsell'd. 

Macb.  Good  repose  the  while  ! 

Ban.    Thanks,  sir  :  the  like  to  you  ! 

\_Exei/!if  Banquo  and  Fleance. 

Macb.    Go  bid  thy  mistress,  when  my  drink  is  ready, 
She  strike  upon  the  bell.    Get  thee  to  bed.  —  \_Exi/  Servant. 
Is  this  a  dagger  which  I  see  before  me, 
The  handle  toward  my  hand  ?     Come,  let  me  clutch  thee. 
I  have  thee  not,  and  yet  I  see  thee  still. 
Art  thou  not,  fatal  vision,  sensible 
To  feeling  as  to  sight  ?  or  art  thou  but 
A  dagger  of  the  mind,  a  false  creation, 
Proceeding  from  the  heat-oppressed  brain? 
I  see  thee  yet,  in  fcJrm  as  palpable 
As  this  which  now  I  draw. 
Tliou  marshall'st  me  the  way  that  I  was  going ; 
And  such  an  instrument  I  was  to  use. 
Mine  eyes  are  made  the  fools  o'  the  other  senses, 
Or  else  worth  all  the  rest : '''  I  see  thee  still ; 

6  Meaning,  apparently,  "  If  you  will  stick  to  my  side,  to  what  has  my 
consent ;  if  you  will  fie  yourself  to  my  fortunes  and  counsel." 

"i  Senses  is  here  used  with  a  double  reference,  to  t!ie  bodily  organs  of 
sense  and  the  inward  faculties  of  the  mind.  Either  his  eyt-s  an:  deceived 
by  his  imaginative  forces  in  being  made  to  sec  that  which  is  not,  or  else  his 


42  MACBETH.  ACT  It 

And  on  thy  blade  and  dudgeon  gouts  of  blood, 

Which  was  not  so  before.  —  There's  no  such  thing  : 

It  is  the  bloody  business  which  informs 

Thus  to  mine  eyes.  — Now  o'er  the  one  half-world 

Nature  seems  dead,  and  wicked  dreams  abuse 

The  curtain'd  sleep  ;  now  witchcraft  celebrates 

Pale  Hecate's  offerings ;  ^  and  wither'd  Murder, 

Alarum'd  by  his  sentinel,  the  wolf, 

Whose  howl's  his  watch,^  thus  with  his  stealthy  pace, 

With  Tarquin's  ravishing  strides,^''  towards  his  design 

Moves  like  a  ghost.  —  Thou  sure  and  firm-set  earth, 

Hear  not  my  steps  which  way  they  walk,  for  fear 

Thy  very  stones  prate  of  my  whereabout,^' 

And  take  the  present  horror  from  the  time. 

Which  now  suits  with  it.'-     *Whiles  1  threat,  he  lives  : 

*Words  to  the  heat  of  deeds  too  cold  breath  gives. 

\^A  bell  rings. 

other  senses  are  at  fault  in  not  being  able  to  find  the  reality  which  his  eyes 
behold.  —  Dudgeon,  next  line,  is  the  handle  or  haft  of  the  dagger:  gouts  is 
drops ;  from  the  French  gouttes. 

8  That  is,  makes  offerings  or  sacrifices  to  Hecate,  who  was  the  Queen  of 
Hades,  the  patroness  of  all  infernal  arts,  and  of  course  the  mistress  of  all 
who  practised  them ;  here  called  pale,  because,  under  the  name  of  Diana, 
she  was  identified  with  the  Moon. 

9  Watch  is  here  used,  apparently,  for  signal.  The  figure  is  of  the  wolf 
acting  as  the  sentinel  of  Murder,  and  his  howl  being  the  signal  to  give  warn- 
ing of  approaching  danger. 

1"  Strides  did  not  always  carry  the  idea  of  violence  or  noise,  but  was 
used  in  a  sense  coherent  enough  with  stealthy  pace.  So  in  The  Faerie 
Quceiie,  iv.  8,  37 :  "  They  passing  forth  kept  on  their  readie  way,  with  casie 
step  so  soft  as  foot  could  stryde." 

11  That  is,  "  tell  tales  of  where  I  have  been,"  or  "  of  my  having  been  here." 
It  seems  to  him  as  if  the  very  stones  might  become  apprehensive,  divulge 
his  dreadful  secret,  and  witness  against  him. 

12  Macbeth  would  have  nothing  break  through  the  universal  silence  that 
added  such  horror  to  the  night,  as  well  suited  with  the  bloody  deed  he  was 
about  to  perform.  Burke,  in  his  Essay  on  the  .Sublime  and  Beautiful,  ob- 
serves, that  "  all  general  privations  are  great  because  they  are  terrible." 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  43 

I  go,  and  it  is  done ;  the  bell  invites  me.  — 

Hear  it  not,  Duncan  ;  for  it  is  a  knell 

That  summons  thee  to  Heaven  or  to  Hell.  \_ExiL 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth. 

Lady  M.    That  which  liath  made  them  drunk  hath  made 

me  bold ; 
What   hath   quench'd   them   hath  given   me    fire.'^     Hark  ! 

Peace  ! 
It  was  the  owl  that  shriek'd,  the  fatal  bellman, 
Which  gives  the  stern'st  good-night.''*     He  is  about  it : 
The  doors  are  open  ;  and  the  surfeited  grooms 
Do    mock   their    charge    with    snores :     I've    drugg'd    their 

possets. 
That  death  and  nature  do  contend  about  them, 
Whether  they  live  or  die. 

Macb.    [ /T/'////;/.]  Who's  there?  what,  ho  ! 

Luidy  AT.    Alack,  I  am  afraid  they  have  awaked, 
And  'tis  not  done.     Th'  attempt  and  not  the  deed 
Confounds  us.^^     Hark  !     I  laid  their  daggers  ready  ; 
He  could  not  miss  'em.     Had  he  not  resembled 
My  father  as  he  slept,  I  had  done't."^  —  My  husband  ! 

13  Lady  Macbeth  has  fired  her  courage  by  drinking  some  wine ;  but, 
while  she  is  kindled  by  drink,  the  grooms  are  stupefied,  "  their  possets  " 
having  been  drugged. 

i*  The  supposed  ominousness  of  the  owl's  note  is  often  alluded  to  by 
Shakespeare.  The  ofiice  of  bellman,  which  the  owl  is  here  made  to  per- 
form, is  well  explained  in  Webster's  Duchess  of  Malfi :  "  I  am  the  common 
bellman,  that  usually  is  sent  to  condemn'd  persons  the  night  before  they 
suffer."  Lady  Macbeth  of  course  regards  Duncan  as  the  condemned  per- 
son to  whom  the  "  fatal  bellman  "  gives  "  the  stern'st  good-night." 

15  "  The  attempt  without  the  deed  destroys  or  ruins  us."  The  Poet  often 
uses  confound  with  this  meaning. 

16  This  litt'e  touch  of  nature  is  one  of  Shakespeare's  most  pregnant  hints 
of  character,  and  is  enough  of  itself,  I  think,  to  upset  the  more  common 
notion  of  Ladv  Macbeth.     It  tells  us  that,  notwithstanding  her  appalling 


44  MACBETH.  ACT  II, 

Enter  Macbeth. 

Macb.    I've  done  the  deed.    Didst  thou  not  hear  a  noise? 

Lady  M.    I  heard  the  owl  scream  and  the  crickets  cry. 
Did  not  you  speak? 

Macb.  When? 

Lady  M.  Now. 

Macb.  As  I  descended? 

Lady  M.    Ay. 

Macb.    Hark  !     Who  hes  i'  the  second  chamber? 

Lady  M.    Donalbain. 

Macb.    \_Lookiiig  on  his  hands.~\    This  is  a  sorry  sight. 

Lady  M.    A  foohsli  thought,  to  say  a  sorry  sight. 

Macb.    There's   one  did  laugh  in's  sleep,  and  one  cried 
Murder  ! 
That  they  did  wake  each  other  :   I  stood  and  heard  them  : 
But  they  did  say  their  prayers,  and  address'd  ''■  them 
Again  to  sleep. 

Lady  M.    There  are  two  lodged  together. 

Macb.    One  cried  God  bless  us  !  and  Amen  !  the  other, 
As  they  had  seen  me  with  these  hangman's  hands, '^ 
Listening  their  fear  :   I  could  not  say  Amen, 
When  they  did  say  God  bless  us  ! 

Lady  M.    Consider  it  not  so  deeply. 

Macb.    But  wherefore  could  not  I  pronounce  Amen  ? 
I  had  most  need  of  blessing,  and  Amen 
Stuck  in  my  throat. 

La(/y  M.  These  deeds  must  not  be  thought 

invocation  to  the  "  murdering  ministers,"  her  milk  continues  to  be  milk. 
And  what  a  suggestive  contrast  it  makes  to  the  terrible  audacity  of  thought 
and  speecii  she  has  just  displayed  ! 

1"  Address'd  for  composed  or  prepared.     See  page  36,  note  10. 

18  "As  //"they  had  seen  me  with  these  butcher  s  hands."  As  for  as  if  is 
very  frequent.  —  Hangman  was  used  for  executioner  in  general,  whether  the 
work  was  done  with  rope  or  steel :  hence,  when  beheading  was  common, 
the  word  contracted  the  sense  oi  butcher. 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH. 


45 


After  these  ways  :  so,  it  will  make  us  mad. 

Alacb.    Methought  I  heard  a  voice  cry  Sleep  no  more  / 
Afacbeth  does  murder  sleep  ;  —  the  innocent  sleep, 
Sleep  that  knits  up  the  ravell'd  sleave  ''■>  of  care  ; 
The  death  of  each  day's  life,  sore  labour's  bath, 
Balm  of  hurt  minds,  great  Nature's  second  course, 
Chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast,  — 

Lady  M.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Macb.    Still  it  cried  Sleep  no  jnore  I  to  all  the  house  ; 
Glamis  hath  murder' d  sleep,  and  therefore  Caivdor 
Shall  sleep  no  more,  —  Macbeth  shall  sleep  no  more  .' 

Lady  M.    Who  was  it  that  thus  cried?  Why,  worthy  thane, 
You  do  unbend  your  noble  strength,  to  think 
So  brainsickly  of  things.^o     Go  get  some  water. 
And  wash  this  filthy  witness  from  your  hand. 
Why  did  you  bring  these  daggers  from  the  place  ? 
They  must  lie  there  :  go  carry  them,  and  smear 
The  sleepy  grooms  with  blood. 

Macb.  I'll  go  no  more  : 

I  am  afraid  to  tliink  what  I  have  done  ; 
Look  on't  again  I  dare  not.  ' 

Lady  M.  Infirm  of  purpose. 

Give  me  the  daggers  !  the  sleeping  and  the  dead 
Are  but  as  pictures  ;  'tis  the  eye  of  childhood 
That  fears  a  painted  devil.si     If  he  do  bleed, 

19  Sleave  is  an  old  name  for  soft  floss  silk,  such  as  is  used  for  weaving. 
So  in  Drayton's  Muses'  Elysium  :  "  Grass  as  soft  as  sleave  or  sarcenet  ever 
was."  So  that  to  "  knit  up  the  ravell'd  sleave  of  care,"  is  to  compose  and 
put  in  trim  for  use  the  soft  silk  that  care  has  ravelled  out  or  discomposed. 

2"  Brainsickly  is  insanely,  crazily.  Hamlet  has  brainish  in  the  same 
sense. —  7b  think  is  equivalent  to  in  thinking  :  an  instance  of  the  infinitive 
used  gerundively,  or  like  the  Latin  gerund. 

21  With  her  firm  self-control,  this  bold  woman,  when  awake,  was  to  be 
moved  by  nothing  but  facts  :  when  her  powers  of  self-control  were  unknit 
by  sleep,  then  was  the  time  for  her  to  see  things  that  were  not,  save  in  her 
own  conscience. 


46  MACBETH.  ACT  II. 

I'll  gild  the  faces  of  the  grooms  withal ; 

For  it  must  seem  their  guilt.--  \_Exit.     Knocking  tvithin. 

Macb.  Whence  is  that  knocking? 

How  is't  with  me,  when  every  noise  appals  me? 
What  hands  are  here  ?  ha  !  they  pluck  out  mine  eyes  ! 
Will  all  great  Neptune's  ocean  wash  this  blood 
Clean  from  my  hand  ?     No  ;  this  my  hand  will  rather 
The  multitudinous  sea  incarnadine, 
Making  the  green  —  one  red.--^ 

Re-enter  Lady  Macbeth. 

Lady  M.    My  hands  are  of  your  colour,  but  I  shame 
To  wear  a  heart   so   white.    \_Knocking  within.'\    I   hear  a 

knocking 
At  the  south  entry  :  retire  we  to  our  chamber. 
A  little  water  clears  us  of  this  deed  : 
How  easy  is  it,  then  !     Your  constancy 
Hath  left  you  unattended.-'*   \_KnocJ:ingwithin7\  Hark  !  more 

knocking. 
Get  on  your  nightgown,  lest  occasion  call  us, 
And  show  us  to  be  watchers.     Be  not  lost 
So  poorly  in  your  thoughts. 

Macb.    To  know  my  deed,  'twere  best  not  know  myself.-'  — 

\_I\^7iocki!ig  loithin. 

22  Here  we  have  a  seeming  quibble  between  ^i/(/  and  guilt.  But  I  sus- 
pect the  Poet  did  not  mean  it  so.  This  use  of  to  gild  was  very  common, 
and  so  might  slip  in  unconsciously. 

23  Making  the  green  water  all  red.  So  in  Milton's  Cciinis  .  "  And  makes 
one  blot  of  all  the  air."  —  To  incarnadine  is  to  colour  red. 

2-*  That  is,  "  Your  firmness  \\^X\\  forsaken  you,  doth  not  attend  you." 
25  Th.s  is  said  in  answer  to  Lady  Macbeth's  "  Be  not  lost  so  poorly  in 
your  thoughts  "  ;  and  the  meaning  is,  "  While  thinking  of  what  I  have  done, 
it  were  best  I  should  be  lost  to  myself,  or  should  not  know  myself  as  the 
doer  of  it."  Macbeth  is  now  burnt  with  the  conscience  of  his  deed,  and 
would  fain  lose  the  memory  of  it.  To  knozv  is  another  gerundial  infinitive, 
and  so  has  the  force  of  in  or  while  knowing.     See  note  20. 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  47 

Wake  Duncan  with  thy  knocking  !     I  would  thou  couldst ! 

S^Exeunt. 
Enter  a  Porter.     Knocking  within. 

Port.  Here's  a  knocking  indeed  !  If  a  man  were  porter 
of  hell-gate,  he  should  have  old  -''  turning  the  key.  — 
\_Knocking^  Knock,  knock,  knock  !  Who's  there,  i'  the 
name  of  Beelzebub?  Here's  a  farmer  that  haiig'd  himself 
071  the  expectation  of  plenty.  Come  in  time  ;  have  napkins-''' 
enough  about  you ;  here  you'll  sweat  for't.  \_Knocking.'\ 
Knock,  knock!  Who's  there,  in  the  other  devil's  name? 
Faith,  here's  an  equivocator  that  could  swear  in  botJi  t/ie 
scales  against  either  scale ;  who  committed  treason  enough 
for  God's  sake,  yet  could  not  equivocate  to  Heaven.-^  O, 
come  in,  equivocator.  [^Knocking.']  Knock,  knock,  knock  ! 
Who's  there?  Faith,  here's  an  English  tailor  come  hither 
for  stealing  out  of  a  French  hose.^^  Come  in,  tailor  ;  here 
you  may  roast  your  goose.^"    \_Kfiocki?ig.']    Knock,  knock ; 

26  Old  was  a  common  intensive  or  augmentative,  used  much  as  kiige  is 
now.  —  The  Porter  now  proceeds  to  hold  a  dialogue  with  several  imaginary 
persons  at  the  door,  who  are  supposed  to  be  knocking  for  admission  to  a 
warmer  place.  —  Coleridge  and  several  others  think  this  part  of  the  scene 
could  not  have  been  written  by  Shakespeare.  My  thinking  is  decidedly  dif- 
ferent. I  am  sure  it  is  like  him.  Its  broad  drollery  serves  as  a  proper  foil 
to  the  antecedent  horrors,  and  its  very  discordance  with  the  surrounding 
matter  imparts  an  air  of  verisimilitude  to  the  whole. 

-"  In  the  old  dictionaries  sudarium  is  explained  "  napkin  oi  handkerchief, 
wherewith  we  wipe  away  the  sweat."  —  "  Come  in  time  "  probably  means 
"  you  are  welcome." 

28  "Could  not  equivocate  himself  into  Heaven,"  or  could  not  win  Heaven 
by  equivocating,  is  the  meaning.  —  To  "swear  in  both  the  scales  against  either 
scale"  is  to  commit  direct  and  manifest  perjury. 

29  Hose  was  used  for  what  we  call  trousers.  Warburton  says,  "  The  joke 
consists  in  this,  that,  a  French  hose  being  very  short  and  strait,  a  tailor  must 
be  master  of  his  trade  who  could  steal  any  thing  from  thence."  Others  say, 
perhaps  more  truly,  that  the  allusion  is  to  a  French  fashion,  wliich  made 
the  hose  very  large  and  wide,  and  so  with  more  cloth  to  be  stolen. 

8"  A  tailor's ,^ow^  is  the  heavy  "flat-iron"  with  which  he  smoothes  and 


48  MACBETH.  ACT  II. 

never  at  quiet  !  What  are  you  ?  —  But  this  place  is  too  cold 
for  Hell.  I'll  devil-porter  it  no  further :  I  had  thought  to 
have  let  in  some  of  all  professions,  tha*"  go  the  primrose  way 
to  the  everlasting  bonfire. ^i  \_Knocki)ig.']  .\non,  anon  I  I 
pray  you,  remember  the  porter.  \_Opens  flic  gate. 

Enter  Macduff  and  Lennox. 

Macd.    Was  it  so  late,  friend,  ere  you  went  to  bed, 
That  you  do  lie  so  late  ? 

Port.  Faith,  sir,  we  were  carousing  till  the  second  cock ; 
and  drink,  sir,  is  a  great  provoker  of  three  things. 

Macd.    What  three  things  does  drink  especially  provoke  ? 

Port.  Marry,  sir,  nose-painting,  sleep,  and  urine.  Lechery, 
sir,  it  provokes,  and  un provokes  ;  it  provokes  the  desire,  but 
it  takes  away  the  performance  :  therefore  much  drink  may 
be  said  to  be  an  equivocator  with  lechery  :  it  makes  him,  and 
it  mars  him  ;  it  sets  him  on,  and  it  takes  him  off;  it  persuades 
him,  and  disheartens  him  ;  makes  him  stand  to,  and  not  stand 
to  ;  in  conclusion,  equivocates  him  in  a  sleep,  and,  giving  him 
the  lie,  leaves  him. 

Macd.    I  believe  drink  gave  thee  the  lie  last  night. 

Port.  That  it  did,  sir,  i'  the  very  throat  on  me  :  but  I  re- 
quited him  for  his  lie  ;  and,  I  think,  being  too  strong  for  him, 
though  he  took  up  my  legs  sometime,  yet  I  made  a  shift  to 
cast  him. 

Macd.    Is  thy  master  stirring  ?  — 
Our  knockinsf  has  awaked  him  ;  here  he  comes. 


presses  his  work ;  so  called  because  the  handle  bore  some  resemblance  to 
the  neck  of  a  goose. 

31  A  bonfire  at  that  date  is  invariably  given  in  Latin  Dictionaries  as 
equivalent  \o  pyra  or  7-ogus  ;  it  was  the  fire  for  consuming  the  human  body 
after  death  :  and  the  hell-fire  differed  from  the  earth-fire  only  in  being  ever- 
lasting. This  use  of  a  word  so  remarkably  descriptive  in  a  double  mean- 
ing is  intensely  Shakespearian.  —  Fleay. 


MACBETH. 


49 


Re-enter  Macbeth. 

Len.    Good  morrow,  noble  sir. 

Macb.  Good  morrow,  both. 

Macd.    Is  the  King  stirring,  worthy  thane  ? 

Macb.  Not  yet. 

Macd.    He  did  command  me  to  call  timely  on  him  : 
I've  almost  slipp'd  the  hour. 

Macb.  I'll  bring  you  to  him. 

Macd.    I  know  this  is  a  joyful  trouble  to  you  ; 
But  yet  'tis  one. 

Macb.    The  labour  we  delight  in  physics  pain.'*"^ 
This  is  the  door. 

Macd.  I'll  make  so  bold  to  call. 

For  'tis  my  limited  ^-^  service.  S^Exit. 

Len.   Goes  the  King  hence  to-day? 

Macb.  He  does  ;  ■ — -he  did  appoint  so.''^ 

Len.    The  night  has  been  unruly  :  where  we  lay, 
(Jur  chimneys  were  blown  down  ;  and,  as  they  say, 
Lamentings  heard  i'  the  air,  strange  screams  of  death  : 
And,  prophesying,  with  accents  terrible. 
Of  dire  combustion  and  confused  events 
New  hatch'd  to  th'  woeful  time,  the  obscene  bird 
Clamour'd  the  livelong  night :  ^•''  some  say  the  Earth 

^'•^  To  heal,  to  cure,  to  relieve,  is  an  old  meaning  oiXo  physic. 

33  The  Poet  repeatedly  uses  to  limit  in  the  exact  sense  of  to  appoint. 

^'i  Here  we  have  a  significant  note  of  character.  Macbeth  catches  him- 
self in  the  utterance  of  a  falsehood,  which,  I  take  it,  is  something  at  odds 
with  his  nature  and  habitual  feelings;  and  he  starts  back  into  a  mending 
of  liis  speech,  as  from  a  spontaneous  impulse  to  be  true  to  himself.  Much 
the  same  thing  occurs  before,  when,  upon  his  saying  to  his  wife  "Duncan 
comes  here  to-night,"  she  asks,  "  And  when  goes  hence?"  and  he  replies, 
"  To-morrow,  —  as  lie  purposes." 

3>'  "The  obscene  bird  "  is  the  owl,  which  was  regarded  as  a  bird  of  ill 
omen,  and  is  here  represented  as  a  prophet  of  the  direful  events  in  ques- 
tion. Obscene  is  used  in  its  proper  Latin  sense,  ill-boding'  or  portenlous 
See  Critical  Notes. 


so  MACBETH. 

Was  feverous  and  did  shake. 

Macb.  'Twas  a  rough  night. 

Len.    My  young  remembrance  cannot  parallel 
A  fellow  to  it.26 

Re-enter  Macduff. 

Macd.    O  horror,  horror,  horror  !  tongue  nor  heart 
Cannot  conceive  nor  name  thee  ! 
Macb 


,  What's  the  matter? 

Len.     ) 

Macd.    Confusion  ^^  now  hath  made  his  masterpiece  ! 
Most  sacrilegious  murder  hath  broke  ope 
The  Lord's  anointed  temple,-''^  and  stole  thence 
The  life  o'  the  building. 

Macb.  What  is't  you  say?  the  life? 

Len.    Mean  you  his  Majesty? 

Macd.    Approach  the  chamber,  and  destroy  your  sight 
With  a  new  Gorgon.     Do  not  bid  me  speak; 
See,  and  then  speak  yourselves.  —  \_Exeunt  Macb.  and  Len. 

Awake,  awake  !  — 
Ring  the  alarum-bell.  — Murder  and  treason  !  — 
Banquo  and  Malcolm  !   Donalbain  !   awake  ! 
Shake  off  this  downy  sleep,  death's  counterfeit. 
And  look  on  death  itself!   up,  up,  and  see 
The  great  doom's  image  !  ^9     Malcolm  !   Banquo  !  all  ! 
As  from  your  graves  rise  up,  and  walk  like  sprites. 
To  countenance  this  horror.'^'^  \^Alaruni-bell  rings. 

38  Here,  as  oix^xi,  fellow  is  equal.     To  parallel  is  to  put  alongside. 
3"  Confusion  for  destruction,   as  confound  for  destroy,  before. 

38  In  I  Samuel,  xxiv.  lo,  David  speaks  of  King  Saul  as  "  the  Lord's 
anointed  ";  and  St.  Paul  calls  Christians  "the  temple  of  the  living  God." 

39  "  The  great  doom  "  means  the  Judgment-day,  of  which  this  occasion 
is  regarded  as  a  representation.     See  vol.  xv.  page  156,  note  33. 

40  "To  countenance  this  horror"  is  to  put  on  a  likeness  of  it;  to  aug- 
ment or  intensify  it ;  an  effect  which  the  further  horror  of  men  rising  up  as 
from  the  dead,  and  walking  like  ghosts,  would  naturally  produce. 


MACBETH. 


51 


Re-enter  Lady  Macbeth. 

Lady  M.  What's  the  business, 

That  such  a  hideous  trumpet  calls  to  parley 
The  sleepers  of  the  house  ?  speak,  speak  ! 

Macd.  O  gentle  lady, 

'Tis  not  for  you  to  hear  what  I  can  speak  : 
The  repetition,  in  a  woman's  ear, 
Would  murder  as  it  fell. — 

Re-enter  Banquo. 

O  Banquo,  Banquo, 
Our  royal  master's  murder'd  ! 

Lady  M.  Woe,  alas  ! 

What,  in  our  house  P"*! 

Ban.  Too  cruel  anywhere.  — 

Dear  Duff,  I  pr'ythee,  contradict  thyself, 
And  say  it  is  not  so. 

Re-enter  Macbeth  and  Lennox. 

Macb.    Had  I  but  died  an  hour  before  this  chance, 
I  had  lived  a  blessed  time  ;  for,  from  this  instant. 
There's  nothing  serious  in  mortality  :  ^^ 
All  is  but  toys  :  renown  and  grace  is  dead  ; 
The  wine  of  life  is  drawn,  and  the  mere  lees 
Is  left  this  vault  to  brag  of."*-^ 

Etiter  Malcolm  and  Donalbain. 

Don.    What  is  amiss? 

Macb.  You  are,  and  do  not  know't : 

*l  Her  ladyship's  first  thought  appears  to  be,  that  she  and  her  husband 
may  be  suspected  of  the  murder. 

^2  Mortality  is  here  put  for  humanity,  or  the  state  of  human  life. 

^3  Observe  the  fine  Hnks  of  association  in  wine  and  vault ;  the  latter  hav- 
ing a  double  reference,  to  the  wine-vault  and  to  the  firmanent  over-arching 
the  world  of  human  life. 


52  MACBETH.  ACT  II. 

The  spring,  the  head,  the  fountain  of  your  blood 
Is  stopp'd,  the  very  source  of  it  is  stopp'd. 

Macd.   Your  royal  father's  murder'd. 

Mai.  O  !  by  whom? 

Leu.    Those  of  his  chamber,  as  it  seem'd,  had  done't : 
Their  liands  and  faces  were  all  badged  with  blood  ; 
So  were  their  daggers,  which,  unwiped,  we  found 
Upon  their  pillows  : 

They  stared,  and  were  distracted  ;   no  man's  life 
Was  to  be  trusted  with  them. 

Macb.    O,  yet  I  do  repent  me  of  my  fury, 
That  I  did  kill  them. 

Macd.  Wherefore  did  you  so  ? 

Macb.   Who  can  be  wise,  amazed,  temperate  and  furious, 
Loyal  and  neutral,  in  a  moment  ?     No  man  : 
The  expedition  ^'^  of  my  violent  love 
Outrun  the  pauser,  reason.     Here  lay  Duncan, 
His  silver  skin  laced  with  his  golden  blood  ;  ''■^ 
x\nd  his  gash'd  stabs  look'd  like  a  breach  in  nature 
For  ruin's  wasteful  entrance  ; ""'  there,  the  murderers, 
Steep'd  in  the  colours  of  their  trade,  their  daggers 
Unmannerly  breech'd  with  gore  :  ^"^  who  could  refrain, 
That  had  a  heart  to  love,  and  in  that  heart 
Courage  to  make's  love  known  ? 

44  Expedition  for  swiftness  or  haste.     Repeatedly  so. 

■•S  To  gild  with  blood  is  a  very  common  phrase  in  old  plays.  Johnson 
says,  "  It  is  not  improbable  that  Shakespeare  put  these  forced  and  unnat- 
ural metaphors  into  the  mouth  of  Macbeth,  as  a  mark  of  artifice  and  dis- 
simulation, to  show  the  difference  between  the  studied  language  of  hypocrisy 
and  the  natural  outcries  of  sudden  passion.  The  whole  speech,  so  consid- 
ered, is  ^  remarkable  instance  of  judgment,  as  it  consists  entirely  of  antithe- 
sis and  metaphor." 

46  The  image  is  of  a  besieging  army  making  a  breach  in  the  walls  of  a 
city,  and  thereby  opening  a  way  for  general  massacre  and  pillage. 

■tT  This  probably  means  rudely  covered,  dressed,  trousered  with  blood. 
A  metaphor  harsh  and  strained  enough, 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  53 

Lady  M.  Help  me  hence,  ho  ! 

Macd.    Look  to  the  lady. 

Mai.    \_Aside  to  Don.]         Why  do  we  hold  our  tongues, 
That  most  may  claim  this  argument  for  ours  ? 

Don.    \_Asidc  to  Mal.]    What  should  be  spoken 
Here,  where  our  fate,  hid  in  an  auger- hole,'** 
May  rush  and  seize  us  ?     Let's  away  :  our  tears 
Are  not  yet  brew'd. 

Mal.    \_Aside  to  Don.]    Nor  our  strong  sorrow 
Upon  the  foot  of  motion. 

Ban.  Look  to  the  lady  :  — 

\_Lady  Macbeth  is  carried  oi/t.'^'^ 
And,  when  we  have  our  naked  frailties  hid, ■'''•' 
That  suffer  in  exposure,  let  us  meet, 
And  question  this  niost  bloody  piece  of  work. 
To  know  it  further.      Fears  and  scruples  shake  us : 
In  the  great  hand  of  God  I  stand  ;  and  thence 
Against  the  undivulged  pretence  I  fight 
Of  treasonous  malice. •'^^ 

Macd.  And  so  do  L 

All.  So  all. 

■***"  Where  there  is  no  hiding-place  so  small  but  that  murder  may  be 
lurking  tlierein,  ready  to  spring  upon  us  at  any  moment."  The  Princes 
divine  at  once  that  their  fatlier  has  been  murdered  for  the  crown,  and  tliat 
the  same  motive  means  death  to  themselves  as  well. 

^'^  Some  regard  this  swoon  as  feigned,  otliers  as  real.  The  question  is 
very  material  in  the  determining  of  Lady  Macbeth's  character.  If  feigned, 
why  was  it  not  done  when  the  murder  of  Duncan  was  announced  ?  The 
announcement  of  these  additional  murders  takes  her  by  surprise ;  she  was 
not  prepared  for  it ;  whereas  in  the  other  case  she  had,  by  her  fearful  energy 
of  will,  steeled  lier  nerves  up  to  it  beforehand. 

5"  Baiiquo  and  the  others  who  slept  in  the  castle  have  rushed  forth  un- 
dressed.    This  is  what  he  refers  to  in  "  our  naked  frailties." 

51  The  natural  construction  is,  "  and  thence  I  fight  against  the  undivulged 
pretence"of  treasonous  malice."  Pretence  here  means  intention  or  purpose. 
A  frequent  usage.  So  the  verb,  a  little  further  on  ;  "  What  good  could  they 
■pretend?"     See  vol.  xv,  page  33,  note  7. 


54  MACBETH.  ACT  II 

Macb.    Let's  briefly  ^^  put  on  manly  readiness, 
And  meet  i'  tlie  hall  together. 

All.  Well  contented. 

\_Exennf  all  hut  Malcolm  and  Donalbain. 

Mai.    What  will  you  do?     Let's  not  consort  with  them  : 
To  show  an  unfelt  sorrow  is  an  office 
Which  the  false  man  does  easy.     I'll  to  England. 

Don.    To  Ireland  I ;  our  separated  fortune 
Shall  keep  us  both  the  safer  :   where  we  are, 
There's  daggers  in  men's  smiles  :  the  near'  in  blood, 
The  nearer  bloody. ^-^ 

Mai.  This  murderous  shaft  that's  shot 

Hath  not  yet  lighted ;  ^"^  and  our  safest  way 
Is  to  avoid  the  aim.     Therefore,  to  horse  ; 
And  let  us  not  be  dainty  of  leave-taking,^^ 
But  shift  away  :   *there's  warrant  in  that  theft 
*VVhich  steals  itself,  when  there's  no  mercy  left.       \_Exeunt 

Scene  II. —  The  Same.      Without  \i\.Q^^iYC%  Castle. 

Enter  Ross  and  an  Old  Man. 

Old  M.    Threescore-and-ten  I  can  remember  well : 
Within  the  volume  of  which  tune  I've  seen 
Hours  dreadful  and  things  strange  ;  but  this  sore  night 
Hath  trifled  former  knowings. 

52  Briefly,  here,  is  quickly  or  speedily.  Often  so.  —  "  Manly  readiness  " 
probably  means  man's  attire;  the  opposite  of"  naked  frailties." 

53  Meaning  that  he  suspects  Macbeth,  who  is  the  next  in  blood,  or  kin. — 
The  Poet  sometimes  uses  the  form  of  the  positive  with  the  sense  of  the  com- 
parative; which  is  indicated  here  by  the  printing,  near  for  nearer.  See  vol. 
X.  page  191,  note  8. 

54  Suspecting  this  murder  to  be  the  work  of  Macbeth,  Malcolm  thinks  it 
could  have  no  purpose  but  what  himself  and  his  brother  equally  stand  in 
the  way  of;  that  the  shaft  must  pass  through  them  to  reach  its  mark. 

55  That  \%,  punctilious  ox  particular  about  leave-taking. 


SCENE  II.  MACBETH.  55 

Ross.  Ah,  good  father, 

Thou  see'st,  the  Heavens,  as  troubled  with  man's  act. 
Threaten  his  bloody  stage  :  by  th'  clock  'tis  day. 
And  yet  dark  night  strangles  the  travelling  lamp. 
Is't  night's  predominance,  or  the  day's  shame. 
That  darkness  does  the  face  of  Earth  entomb. 
When  living  light  should  kiss  it? 

Old  M.  'Tis  unnatural, 

Even  like  the  deed  that's  done.     On  Tuesday  last, 
A  falcon,  towering  in  her  pride  of  place, ^ 
Was  by  a  mousing  owl  hawk'd  at  and  kill'd. 

Ross.    And  Duncan's  horse',-  —  a  thing  most  strange  and 
certain,  — 
Beauteous  and  swift,  the  minions  of  their  race, 
Turn'd  wild  in  nature,  broke  their  stalls,  flung  out, 
Contending  'gainst  obedience,  as  they  would  make 
War  with  mankind. 

Old  M.  'Tis  said  they  eat  each  other.^ 

Ross.    They  did  so,  to  th'  amazement  of  mine  eyes, 
That  look'd  upon't.     Here  comes  the  good  Macduff.  — 

Enter  Macduff. 

How  goes  the  world,  sir,  now? 

Macd.  Why,  see  you  not  ? 

Ross.    Is't  known  who  did  this  more  than  bloody  deed? 

Macd.   Those  that  Macbeth  hath  slain. 

Ross.  Alas,  the  day  ! 

What  good  could  they  pretend  ? 

Macd.  Tlicy  were  suborn'd  : 

1  A  phrase  in  falconry  for  soaring  to  the  highest  pitch. 

2  Horse  for  horses.     Repeatedly  so.     See  vol.  xii.  page  87,  note  26. 

3  Holinshed  relates  that,  after  Km^  Duff's  murder,  "  there  was  a  sparhawk 
strangled  hv  an  on^i;'  and  that  "horses  of  singular  beauty  and  swiftness  did 
ea!  their  ownfiesh." 


$6  MACBETH.  ACT  II. 

Malcolm  and  Donalbain,  the  King's  two  sons, 
Are  stol'n  away  and  fled ;  which  puts  upon  them 
Suspicion  of  the  deed. 

J?oss.  'Gainst  nature  still : 

Thriftless  ambition,  that  wilt  ravin  up  "• 
Thine  own  life's  means  !     Then  'tis  most  like 
The  sovereignty  will  fall  upon  IVIacbeth. 

ATacd.    He  is  already  named  ;  and  gone  to  Scone 
To  be  invested. 

Ross.  Where  is  Duncan's  body  ? 

Macd.    Carried  to  Colme-kill,-'"^ 
The  sacred  storehouse  of  his  predecessors, 
And  guardian  of  their  bones. 

Ross.  ^Vill  you  to  vScone  ? 

Macd.    No,  cousin,  I'll  to  Fife. 

Ross.  Well,  I  will  thither.6 

*Macd.    Well,  may  you  see    things    well    done    there,  — ' 
adieu,  — • 
*Lest  our  old  robes  sit  easier  than  our  new  !''' 

Ross.    Farewell,  father. 

*  Old  M.    God's  benison^  go  with  you  ;  and  with  those 
*That  would  make  good  of  bad,  and  friends  of  foes  !  \_Exeunt. 

*  To  7-avln  up  is  to  consume  or  devour  ravenously.  The  Poet  elsewhere 
has  ravm  down  in  exactly  the  same  sense. 

5  Colmc-kill  is  the  famous  lona,  one  of  the  Western  Isles  mentioned  by 
Ilolinshed  as  the  burial-place  of  many  ancient  kings  of  Scotland.  Colme- 
kill  means  the  cell  or  chapel  of  St.  Columba. 

G  That  is,  "  I  will  go  to  Scone." 

"^  This  latter  clause  logically  connects  with  "  see  things  well  done  there  " ; 
adieu!  being  awkwardly  thrust  in  for  a  rhyming  couplet. 

8  BcnLon  is  blessing,  and  is  used  whenever  the  verse  requires  a  trisylla- 
ble.   The  opposite  sense  was  expressed  by  malison. 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  57 

ACT    III. 

Scene  I.  —  Forres.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Banquo. 

Ban.    Thou  hast  it  now,  king,  Cawdor,  Glamis,  all, 
As  the  Weird  Women  promised ;  and,  I  fear, 
Thou  play'dst  most  foully  for't :  yet  it  was  said 
It  should  not  stand  in  thy  posterity  ; 
But  that  myself  should  be  the  root  and  father 
Of  many  kings.     If  there  come  truth  from  them,  — 
As  upon  thee,  Macbeth,  their  speeches  shine,^  — 
Why,  by  the  verities  on  thee  made  good, 
May  they  not  be  my  oracles  as  well, 
And  set  me  up  in  hope?     But,  hush  !  no  more. 

Sennet  soiiiitled.     Enter  Macbeth,  as  King;  Lady  Macbeth, 
as  Queen ;  Lennox,  Ross,  Lords,  Ladies,  and  Attendants. 

Macb.    Here's  our  chief  guest. 

Ladx  AT.  If  he  had  been  forgotten, 

It  had  been  as  a  gap  in  our  great  feast. 
And  all  things  unbecoming.- 

Macb.   To-night  we  hold  a  solemn  supper,^  sir. 
And  I'll  request  your  presence. 

Ban.  Lay  your  Highness' 

Command  upon  me  ;  to  the  which  my  duties 
Are  with  a  most  indissoluble  tie 

1  Their  speeches  prosper,  or  appear  in  the  lustre  of  manifest  truth  ;  a  con- 
spicuous instance,  to  warrant  belief  in  their  predictions. 

2  That  is,  such  an  oversight  would  have  disordered  the  whole  feast,  and 
rendered  all  things  unfitting  and  discordant. 

3  This  was  the  phrase  of  Shakespeare's  time  for  a  feast  or  banquet  given 
to  solemnize  any  event,  as  a  birth,  marriage,  coronation. 


58  MACBETH.  ACT  III. 

For  ever  knit. 

Macb.    Ride  you  this  afternoon  ? 

Ban.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Macb.    We  should  have  else  desired  your  good  advice  — 
Which  still  hath  been  both  grave  and  prosperous  — 
In  this  day's  Council ;  but  we'll  take  to-morrow. 
Is't  far  you  ride  ? 

Ban.    As  far,  my  lord,  as  will  fill  uji  the  time 
'Twixt  this  and  supper  :  go  not  my  horse  the  better,'* 
I  must  become  a  borrower  of  the  night 
For  a  dark  hour  or  twain. 

Macb.  Fail  not  our  feast. 

Ban.    My  lord,  I  will  not. 

Macb.    We  hear,  our  bloody  cousins  are  bestow'd 
In  England  and  in  Ireland  ;  not  confessing 
Their  cruel  parricide,  filling  their  hearers 
With  strange  invention  :  but  of  that  to-morrow  ; 
When  therewithal  we  shall  have  cause  of  State 
Craving  us  jointly.      Hie  you  to  horse  :  adieu, 
Till  you  return  at  night.     Goes  Fleance  with  you  ? 

Ban.    Ay,  my  good  lord  :  our  time  does  call  upon's. 

Macb.    I  wish  your  horses  swift  and  sure  of  foot ; 
And  so  I  do  commend  you  to  their  backs. 
Farewell.  —  \_Exit  Banquo. 

Let  every  man  be  master  of  his  time 
Till  seven  at  night ;  to  make  society 
The  sweeter  welcome,  we  will  keep  ourself 
Till  supper-time  alone  :   while  then,  God  b'  wi'  you  !-'^- — • 

\_Excun(  all  but  Macbeth  and  an  Attendant. 

■*  Perhaps  meaning,  If  my  horse  go  not  better  than  usual ;  but  more 
likely,  if  my  horse  go  not  too  well ;  that  is,  too  well  for  the  result  in  question. 
So  the  Poet  often  follows  a  well-known  Latin  idiom  in  his  use  of  the  com- 
parative.    See  vol.  XV.  page  291,  note  10. 

5  "  God  be  with  you  "  is  the  original  of  our  ^1^x2^%^  good  bye ;  and  the  text 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  59 

Sirrah,  a  word  with  you  :  attend  those  men 
Our  pleasure  ? 

Atten.    They  are,  my  lord,  without  the  palace-gate. 

Maid.    Bring  them  before  us.  —  \_Exit  Attendant. 

To  be  thus  is  nothing, 
But  to  be  safely  thus.*^     Our  fears  in"  Banquo 
Stick  deep  ;  and  in  his  royalty  of  nature 
Reigns  that  which  would  ^  be  fear'd  :   'tis  much  he  dares ; 
And,  to 9  that  dauntless  temper  of  his  mind, 
He  hath  a  wisdom  that  doth  guide  his  valour 
To  act  in  safety.     There  is  none  but  he 
Whose  being  I  do  fear ;  and,  under  him. 
My  Genius  is  rebuked,  as,  it  is  said, 
Mark  Antony's  was  by  Caesar's. i"     He  chid  the  Sisters, 
When  first  they  put  the  name  of  king  upon  ine, 
And  bade  them  speak  to  him  ;  then,  prophet-like, 
They  hail'd  him  father  to  a  line  of  kings  : 
Upon  my  head  they  placed  a  fruitless  crown. 
And  put  a  barren  sceptre  in  my  gripe, 
Thence  to  be  wrench'd  with  an  unlineal  hand, 
No  son  of  mine  succeeding.     If't  be  so, 
For  Banquo's  issue  have  I  filed  •'  my  mind  ; 

here  aptly  illustrates  the  process  of  the  contraction.  —  While  here  means 
until ;  a  sense  in  which  it  was  often  used.     See  vol.  x.  page  151,  note  13. 

6  That  is,  "  nothing,  without  being  safely  thus,"  or,  "  unless  we  be  safely 
thus."  The  exceptive  hut,  from  be  out,  is  used  repeatedly  so  by  the  Poet 
See  vol.  xiv.  page  165,  note  3. 

"  In  for  on  account  of.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  44,  note  41. 

8  Would,  again,  for  should.  See  page  36,  note  9.  —  "  Royalty  of  nature  " 
is  roya.1  or  noble  nature.     The  Poet  has  many  like  forms  of  expression. 

^  To,  again,  for  in  addition  to.     See  page  33,  note  9. 

1"  Octavius  Coesar  is  the  person  referred  to.  In  .In tony  and  Cleopatra. 
i'-  JxS^^'-^^  's  explained  by  the  words  demon,  angel,  and  "  thy  spirit  which 
keeps  thee."     See,  also,  vol.  xiv.  page  38,  note  16. 

11  File  for  defile.  So  in  Wilkins's  Inforced  Marriage  :  "  Oaths  pass  out 
of  a  man's  mouth  like  smoke  through  a  chimney,  that  files  a'l  the  way  it 
goes."     /•'()«/  M\d  filth  are  from  the  same  original. 


6o  MACBETH.  ACT  in. 

For  them  the  gracious  Duncan  have  I  murder'd ; 

Put  rancours  in  the  vessel  of  my  peace 

Only  for  them  ;  and  mine  eternal  ^-  jewel 

Given  to  the  common  enemy  of  man, 

To  make  them  kings,  the  seed  of  Banquo  kings  ! 

Rather  than  so,  come,  fate,  into  the  list, 

And  champion  me  to  th'  utterance  !  i3_  who's  there? 

Re-enter  Attendant,  witli  tivo  Murderers. 

Now  go  to  th'  door,  and  stay  there  till  we  call.  — 

S^Exit  Attendant. 
Was  it  not  yesterday  we  spoke  together  ? 

/  Mur.    It  was,  so  please  your  Highness. 

Mach.  Well  then,  now 

Have  you  consider'd  of  my  speeches  ?     Know 
That  it  was  he,  in  the  times  past,  which  held  you 
So  under  fortune  ;  which  )  on  thought  had  been 
Our  innocent  self:  this  I  made  good  to  you 
In  our  last  conference,  pass'd  in  probation  '^^ 
With  you,  how  you  were  borne  in  hand  ;  ^•'''  liow  cross'd  ; 
The  instruments  ;  who  wrought  with  them  ; 
And  all  things  else  that  might  to  half  a  soul 

12  "  Eternal  jewel"  is  immortal  soul.  So  in  Othello,  iii.  3:  "Or,  by  the 
worth  of  man's  eternal  soul." 

13  Champion  me  is  be  my  antagonist,  or  fight  it  out  with  me  in  single  com- 
bat ,  the  only  instance  I  have  met  with  of  champion  so  used.  —  To  th'  utter- 
ance is  to  the  uttermost,  or  to  the  last  extremity.  So  in  Cotgrave :  "Com- 
batre  a  oultrance ;  To  fight  at  sharp,  to  fight  it  out,  or  to  tlie  uttermost." 
So  that  the  sense  of  the  passage  is,  "  Let  Fate,  that  has  decreed  the  throne 
to  Banquo's  issue,  enter  the  lists  in  support  of  its  own  decrees,  I  will  fight 
against  it  to  the  last  extremity,  whatever  be  the  consequence." 

14  Probation  here  means  proof,  or  rather  the  act  of  proving. 

15  To  bear  in  hand  is  to  encourage  or  lead  on  by  false  assurances  and 
expectations.  So  used  several  times  by  the  Poet.  —  In  what  follows,  cross'd 
\'S,  thwarted  ox  baffled ;  instruments  is  agents;  and  the.  general  idea  is,  that 
Banquo  has  managed  to  hold  up  their  hopes,  while  secretly  preventing  frui- 
tion ;  thus  using  them  as  tools,  and  cheating  them  out  of  their  pay. 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  6 1 

And  to  a  notion  ^^  crazed  say  Thus  did  Banquo. 

1  Mur.   You  made  it  known  to  us. 

Macb.    I  did  so ;  and  went  further,  which  is  now 
Our  point  of  second  meeting.     Do  you  find 
Your  patience  so  predominant  in  your  nature, 
That  you  can  let  this  go?     Are  you  so  gospell'd, 
To  pray  ^'^  for  this  good  man  and  for  his  issue, 
Whose  heavy  hand  hath  bow'd  you  to  the  grave, 
And  beggar'd  yours  for  ever? 

/  Mu7-.  We  are  men,  my  hege. 

Macb.    Ay,  in  the  catalogue  ye  go  for  men ; 
As  hounds,  and  greyhounds,  mongrels,  spaniels,  curs, 
Shoughs,  water-rugs,  and  demi-wolves,  are  clept  ^^ 
All  by  the  name  of  dogs  :  the  valued  file  '^ 
Distinguishes  the  swift,  the  slow,  the  subtle, 
The  housekeeper,  the  hunter,  every  one 
According  to  the  gift  which  bounteous  Nature 
Hath  in  him  closed  ;  whereby  he  does  receive 
Particular  addition,  from  the  bill 
That  writes  them  all  alike  :  and  so  of  men. 
Now,  if  you  have  a  station  in  the  file, 
And  not  i'  the  worser  rank  of  manhood,  say't  \ 
And  I  will  put  that  business  in  your  bosoms, 
Whose  execution  takes  your  enemy  off; 
Grapples  you  to  the  heart  and  love  of  us. 
Who  wear  our  health  but  sickly  in  his  life. 
Which  in  his  death  were  perfect. 

2  Mur.  I  am  one,  my  liege, 

16  Notion  for  understanding  or  judgment.     See  vol.  w.  page  40,  note  26. 

IT  Alluding  to  the  Gospel  precept,  "  Pray  for  them  which  despitefuUy  use 
you."     "  So  gospell'd  as  to  pray,"  of  course. 

18  Shoughs  are  shaggy  dogs ;  now  called  shocks.  —  Clept  is  an  old  word 
for  called.     Shakespeare  has  it  repeatedly  so. 

1^  "  The  valued  file  "  is  the  list  or  schedule  wherein  their  value  and 
peculiar  qualities  are  discriminated  and  set  dowji, 


62  MACBETH.  ACT  III, 

Whom  the  vile  blows  and  buffets  of  the  world 
Have  so  incensed,  that  I  am  reckless  what 
I  do  to  spite  the  world. 

1  Mur.  And  I  another, 

So  wearied  with  disasters,  tugg'd  with  fortune, 
That  I  would  set  my  life  on  any  chance. 
To  mend  it,  or  be  rid  on't. 

Macb.  Both  of  you 

Know  Banquo  was  your  enemy. 

Both  Mur.  True,  my  lord. 

Macb.    So  is  he  mine  ;  and  in  such  bloody  distance,20 
That  every  minute  of  his  being  thrusts 
Against  my  near'st  of  life  :   and  though  I  could 
With  barefaced  power  sweep  him  from  my  sight. 
And  bid  my  will  avouch  it,  yet  I  must  not. 
For  21  certain  friends  that  are  both  his  and  mine, 
Whose  loves  I  may  not  drop  ;  but  wail  his  fall-^ 
Who  I  myself  struck  down  :  and  thence  it  is. 
That  I  to  your  assistance  do  make  love  ; 
Masking  the  business  from  the  common  eye 
For  sundry  weighty  reasons. 

2  Mur.  We  shall,  my  lord, 
Perform  what  you  command  us. 

I  Mur.  Though  our  lives  — 

Macb.    Your  spirits  shine  through  you.     Within  this  hour 
at  most, 
I  will  advise  you  where  to  plant  yourselves ; 


20  Distance  here  carries  the  sense  oi  degree.  It  is  a  term  of  fencing  for 
the  space  between  the  two  antagonists.  When  men  are  in  a  hot  mortal 
encounter  with  swords,  they  stand  at  just  the  right  distance  apart  for  the 
bloodiest  strokes  or  thrusts.  Hence  the  word  came  to  be  used  for  emnity 
in  general. 

21  For  is  here  because  of,  or  on  account  of.     Repeatedly  so. 

22  The  language  is  elliptical ;  the  sense  being  "  but  /  must  wail," 


SCENE  11.  MACBETH.  63 

Acquaint  you  with  the  perfect  spy  o'  the  time,^^ 
The  moment  on't ;  for't  must  be  done  to-night, 
And  something  from  the  palace  ;  aUvays  thought 
That  I  require  a  clearness  :  -"^  and  with  him  — 
To  leave  no  rubs  -^  nor  botches  in  the  work  — 
Fleance  his  son,  that  keeps  him  company, 
Whose  absence  is  no  less  material  to  me 
Than  is  his  father's,  must  embrace  the  fate 
Of  that  dark  hour.     Resolve  yourselves  apart : 
I'll  come  to  you  anon. 

Botli  Mur.  We  are  resolved,  my  lord. 

Mach.    I'll  call  upon  you  straight :  abide  within. — 

\_Exeuni  Murderers. 
It  is  concluded  :   Banquo,  thy  soul's  flight. 
If  it  find  Heaven,  must  find  it  out  to-night.  \_Exif. 

Scene  II.  —  The  Same.     Another  Room  in  the  Pahice. 
Enter  Lady  Macbeth  and  a  Servant. 

Lady  M.    Is  Banquo  gone  from  Court? 

Serv.    Ay,  madam,  but  returns  again  to-night. 

Lady  M.    Say  to  the  King,  I  would  attend  his  leisure  ^ 
For  a  few  words. 

Serv.  Madam,  I  will.  \^Exit. 

Lady  M.  Nought's  had,  all's  spent, 

Where  our  desire  is  got  without  content  : 

•23  WT-j]]  furnish  you  with  an  exact  and  sure  note  or  signal  of  the  time  when 
to  strike;  which  is  probably  done  by  or  through  tlie  third  murderer,  who 
joins  them  just  before  the  murder  is  done.  The  success  of  the  undertaking 
depends  on  the  assault  being  rightly  timed.  So  that  "  the  perfect  spy  of  the 
time"  is  the  sure  irieans  of  spying  or  knowing  the  time. 

24  That  is,  "  it  being  always  borne  in  mind  that  I  must  stand  clear  of 
blame  or  suspicion." 

25  Rubs  is  hindrances  or  impediments.     See  vol.  x.  page  63,  note  12. 
1  "  Attend  his  leisure  "  is  wait  for  him  to  be  at  leisure. 


64  MACBETH.  ACT  in. 

'Tis  safer  to  be  that  which  we  destroy, 

Than,  by  destruction,  dwell  in  doubtful  joy.  — 

Enter  Macbeth. 

How  now,  my  lord  !  why  do  you  keep  alone. 

Of  sorriest  fancies  your  companions  making ; 

Using  those  thoughts  which  should  indeed  have  died 

With  them  they  think  on  ?     Things  without  ^  all  remedy 

Should  be  without  regard  :  what's  done  is  done. 

Macb.    We  have  but  scotch'd  ^  the  snake,  not  kill'd  it : 
She'll  close,  and  be  herself;  whilst  our  poor  malice 
Remains  in  danger  of  her  former  tooth.     But  let 
The  frame  of  things  disjoint,  both  the  worlds  suffer, 
Ere  we  will  eat  our  meal  in  fear,  and  sleep 
In  the  affliction  of  these  terrible  dreams 
That  shake  us  niglitly  :  ^  better  be  with  the  dead, 
Whom  we,  to  gain  our  place,  have  sent  to  peace. 
Than  on  the  torture  of  the  mind  to  lie 
In  restless  ecstasy.^     Duncan  is  in  his  grave  ; 
After  life's  fitful  fever  he  sleeps  well ; 
Treason  has  done  his  worst :  nor  steel,  nor  poison. 
Malice  domestic,  foreign  levy,  nothing, 
Can  touch  him  further. 

Lady  M.  Come  on  ;  gentle  my  lord, 

Sleek  o'er  your  rugged  looks  ;  be  bright  and  jovial 
Among  your  guests  to-night. 

Macb.  So  shall  I,  love  ; 

And  so,  I  pray,  be  you  :  let  your  remembrance 

2  Here,  as  often,  without  is  beyond.     See  vol.  vii.  page  104,  note  42. 

3  ScotcL  d  is  scored  or  cut.  So  in  Coriolanus,  iv.  5 :  "  Before  Corioli  he 
scotch'd  s.nd  notch'd  him  like  a  carbonado." 

*  What  "  these  terrible  dreams  "  are,  is  shown  in  Lady  Macbeth's  sleep- 
walking agonies.  It  is  of  her  state  of  mind,  not  of  his  own,  that  Macbeth  is 
here  thinking. 

6  Ecstasy  is  any  violent  perturbation  of  mind ;  frenzy,  or  madness. 


SCENK  II.  MACBETH.  65 

Apply  '^  to  Banquo ;  present  him  eminence,  both 
With  eye  and  tongue  :  ^  unsafe  the  while  that  we 
Must  lave  our  honours  in  these  flattering  streams  ;  ^ 
And  make  our  faces  visards  to  our  hearts, 
Disguising  what  they  are. 

Zatff  M.  You  must  leave  this. 

Macb.    O,  full  of  scorpions  is  my  mind,  dear  wife  ! 
Thou  know'st  that  Banquo  and  his  Fleance  live.^ 

Lady  AT.    But  in  them  Nature's  copy's  not  eterne.'" 

Macb.    There's  comfort  yet ;  they  are  assailable  ; 
Then  be  thou  jocund  :  ere  the  bat  hath  flown 
His  cloister'd^i  flight;  ere,  to  black  Hecate's  summons, 
The  shard-borne  beetle  i-  with  his  drowsy  hums 

6  Here  apply  has  the  force  of  attach  itself.  So  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
V.  2:  "If  you  apply  yourself  \.o  our  intents,  —  which  towards  you  are  most 
gentle,  —  you  shall  find  a  benefit  in  this  change." 

"  "Treat  him  with  the  highest  consideration,  or  as  the  most  eminent  of 
our  guests."  Rather  strange  language,  and  not  very  happy  withal;  but 
such  appears  to  be  the  meaning. —  Is  this  a  piece  of  irony  ?  or  is  it  meant 
as  a  blind,  to  keep  his  wife  ignorant  and  innocent  of  the  new  crime  on  foot  ? 
I  suspect  he  is  trying  to  jest  off  the  pangs  of  remorse. 

8  Flattering  streams  is  streams  of  flattery.  The  meaning  is,  "  The  very 
fact  of  our  being  obliged  thus  to  use  the  arts  of  hypocrisy  and  dissimulation 
proves  that  we  are  not  safe  in  our  seats,  not  secure  in  the  tenure  of  our 
honours  :  we  can  retain  them  only  by  making  our  life,  even  in  social  inter- 
course, a  studied,  continuous  lie." 

-'  Macbeth  mistranslates  the  recoilings  and  ominous  whispers  of  con- 
science into  prudential  and  selfish  reasonings,  and,  after  the  deed  is  done, 
the  terrors  of  remorse  into  fear  from  external  dangers;  like  delirious  men 
who  run  away  from  the  phantoms  of  their  own  brains,  or,  raised  by  terror 
to  rage,  stab  the  real  object  that  is  within  their  reach.  —  COLERHJGE. 

^^  Ritson  has  justly  observed  that  nature's  copy  alludes  to  copyhold  tenure ; 
in  which  the  tenant  holds  an  estate  for  life,  having  nothing  but  the  copy  of 
the  rolls  of  his  lord's  court  to  show  for  it.  A  life-hold  tenure  may  be  well 
said  to  be  not  eternal. 

n  The  bats  wheeling  round  the  dim  cloisters  of  Queen's  College,  Cam- 
bridge, have  frequently  impressed  on  me  the  singular  propriety  of  this  origi- 
nal epithet.  —  Steevens. 

12  Shard  or  sherd  is  an  old  word  for  scale.    So  that  "  the  shard-borne 


66  MACBETH.  ACT  III. 

Hath  rung  night's  yawning-peal,  there  shall  be  done 
A  deed  of  dreadful  note. 

Lady  Af.  What's  to  be  done  ? 

Alacb.   Be  innocent  of  the  knowledge,  dearest  chuck, 
Till  thou  applaud  the  deed.  —  Come,  seeling  ^^  night, 
Scarf  up  the  tender  eye  of  pitiful  day. 
And  with  thy  bloody  and  invisible  hand 
Cancel  and  tear  to  pieces  that  great  bond 
Which  keeps  me  paled  !  i**  —  Light  thickens,  and  the  crow 
Makes  wing  to  th'  rooky  wood  :  '^ 
Good  things  of  day  begin  to  droop  and  drowse. 
Whiles  night's  black  agents'*'  to  their  preys  do  rouse. 
Thou  marvell'st  at  my  words ;  but  hold  thee  still : 
Things  bad  begun  make  strong  tliemselves  by  ill. 
So,  pr'ythee,  go  with  me.  \_Exetint. 

beetle "  is  the  beetle  borne  along  the  air  by  its  shards  or  scaly  wings.  — 
"  Night's  yawning-peal  "  is  the  nocturnal  signal  for  going  to  sleep. 

13  Seeling  is  blinding ;  a  term  in  Falconry.  To  seel  the  eyes  of  a  hawk 
was  to  close  them  by  sewing  the  eyelids  together. 

1*  "  That  great /'Wf(/"  is  Banquo's  life;  the  "copyhold  tenure"  of  note 
lo. — Paled  is  shut  in  or  confined  with  palings.  As  Macbeth  afterwards 
puts  it,  Banquo's  life  has  the  effect  of  keeping  him  "  cabin'd,  cribb'd,  con- 
fined, bound-in  to  saucy  doubts  and  fears." 

15  To  thicken  seems  to  have  been  a  common  expression  for  fo  grow 
dark.  So  in  Fletcher's  Faithful  Shepherdess  :  "  Fold  your  flocks  up,  for  the 
air  'gins  to  thicken."  —  Crow  and  rook  were  used  of  the  same  bird.  So  that 
the  meaning  is,  the  crows  are  hastening  to  their  nightly  resort,  the  wood 
where  they  gather  for  society  and  sleep. 

16  A  covert  allusion  to  the  exploit  which  Macbeth 's  murderers  are  going 
about.  He  seems  to  want  that  his  wife  should  suspect  the  new  crime  he  has 
in  hand,  while  he  shrinks  from  telling  her  of  it  distinctly.  And  the  purpose 
of  his  dark  hints  probably  is,  to  prepare  her,  as  far  as  may  be,  for  a  further 
strain  up'^n  her  moral  forces,  which  he  sees  to  be  already  overstrained. 
For  he  fears  that,  if  she  has  full  knowledge  beforehand  of  the  intended  mur- 
der, she  may  oppose  it,  and  that,  if  she  has  no  suspicion  of  it,  the  shock 
may  be  too  much  for  her. 


SCENE  III.  MACBETH.  6/ 

Scene  III.  —  The  Same.     A  Park  with  a  gate  leading  to  the 
Palace. 

Enter  three  Murderers. 
/  Alur.    But  who  did  bid  thee  join  with  us  ? 
3  Mur.  Macbeth. 

2  Mur.    He  needs  not  our  mistrust ; '  since  he  dehvers 
Our  offices,  and  what  we  have  to  do, 

To  the  direction  just. 

I  Mur.  Then  stand  with  us. 

The  West  yet  ghmmers  with  some  strealcs  of  day : 
Now  spurs  the  lated  traveller  apace- 
To  gain  the  timely  inn  ;  and  near  approaches 
The  subject  of  our  watch. 

3  Mur.  Hark  !  I  hear  horses. 

1  The  meaning  is,  "  We  neetl  not  mistrust  him  "  ;  his  perfect  knowledge 
of  what  is  to  be  done,  and  how,  being  a  sufficient  guaranty  of  his  right  to  be 
with  them.  —  Mr.  A.  P.  Paton  has  lately  made  a  strong  argument  to  the 
point  that  the  third  murderer  is  Macbeth  himself  in  disguise.  The  thing 
sounds  rather  startling  indeed,  yet  I  am  by  no  means  sure  but  he  is  right. 
I  can  but  condense  a  portion  of  his  argument :  That,  although  the  banquet 
was  to  be  at  seven,  Macbeth  was  not  there  till  near  midnight :  That  he  has 
hardly  more  than  entered  the  room  before  the  murderer  is  at  the  door: 
That  the  third  murderer  repeats  the  precise  directions  given  to  the  other 
two,  and  has  perfect  knowledge  of  the  place,  and  the  habits  of  visitors : 
That  at  the  banquet  Macbeth  plays  with  the  murderer  at  the  door,  as  if 
exulting  in  the  success  of  his  disguise :  That,  when  the  Ghost  rises,  he  asks 
the  company,  "  Which  of  you  have  done  this  ?  "  as  if  to  take  suspicion  off 
himself,  and  says,  in  effect,  to  the  Ghost,  "  In  yon  black  struggle  you  could 
never  know  me."  — For  the  matter  of  this  note,  I  am  indebted,  directly,  to 
Mr.  Furness's  variorum  edition  of  the  play.  Perhaps  the  strongest  point 
against  the  writer's  view  is,  that  Macbeth  seems  surprised,  and  goes  into  a 
rapture,  on  being  told  that  "  Fleance  is  'scaped"  ;  but  this  may  not  be  very 
much ;  he  may  there  be  feigning.  On  the  other  hand,  Macbeth's  actual 
sharing  in  the  deed  of  murder  would  go  far  to  account  for  his  terrible  hal- 
lucination at  the  banquet. 

2  Lated  is  the  same  as  belated.  —  Apace  is  rapidly.  —  "  To  gain  the  timely 
inn,"  is  to  gain  the  inn  in  time. 


68  MACBETH.  ACT  III. 

Ban.    [  IVifhin.']    Give  us  a  light  there,  ho  ! 

2  Mu) .  Then  'tis  he  :  the  rest 

That  are  within  the  note  of  expectation^ 
Already  are  i'  the  Court. 

1  Mur.  His  horses  go  about. 
J  Mur.    Almost  a  mile  :  but  he  does  usually, 

So  all  men  do,  from  hence  to  th'  palace-gate 
Make  it  their  walk. 

2  Mur.  A  light,  a  light  ! 

J  Mur.  'Tis  he. 

/  Mur.    Stand  to't. 

Enfer  Banquo,  and  Fleance  with  a  torch. 

Ban.    It  will  be  rain  to-night. 

1  Mur.  Let  it  come  down. 

[  They  assault  Banquo. 
Ban.    O,  treachery  !     Fly,  good  Fleance,  fly,  fly,  fly  ! 
Thou  mayst  revenge.  — O  slave  !      \_Dies.     Fleance  escapes. 
J  Mur.    Who  did  strike  out  the  light? 
/  Mur.  Was't  not  the  way? 

J  Mur.   There's  but  one  down;  the  son  is  fled. 

2  Mur.    We  have  lost  best  half  of  our  affair. 

/  Mur.    Well,  let's  away,  and  say  how  much  is  done. 

\_Exeunt. 

Scene  IV. —  The  Same.     A  Room  of  State  in  the  Palace. 

A  banquet  prepared.     Enter  Macbeth,  Lady  Macbeth,  Ross, 
Lennox,  Lords,  and  Attendants. 

Maco.    You  know  your  own  degrees  ;  sit  down  :   at  first 
And  last  the  hearty  welcome. 

Lords.  Thanks  to  your  Majesty. 

8  Whose  names  are  in  the  Ust  of  those  expected  at  tlie  banquet. 


SCENE  IV.  MACBETH. 


69 


Macb.    Ourself  will  mingle  with  society, 
And  play  the  humble  host.     Our  hostess  keeps  her  state  ; ' 
But  in  best  time  we  will  require  her  welcome. 

Lady  M.    Pronounce  it  for  me,  sir,  to  all  our  friends  ; 
For  my  heart  speaks  they're  welcome. 

First  Murderer  appears  at  tJie  door. 

Macb.   See,  they  encounter  thee  with  their  hearts'  thanks.  — 
Both  sides  are  even  :  here  I'll  sit  i'  the  midst. 
Be  large  in  mirth  ;  anon  we'll  drink  a  measure 
The  table  round.  —  \^Goes  to  the  door.']    There's  blood  upon 
thy  face. 

Mur.    'Tis  Banquo's,  then. 

Macb.    'Tis  better  thee  without  than  him  within.^ 
Is  he  dispatch'd  ? 

Mur.    My  lord,  his  throat  is  cut ;  that  I  did  for  him. 

Macb.    Thou  art  the  best  o'  the  cut-throats  ;  yet  he's  good 
That  did  the  like  for  Fleance  :  if  thou  didst  it, 
Thou  art  the  nonpareil. 

Mtir.  Most  royal  sir, 

Fleance  is  'scaped. 

Macb.    Then  comes  my  fit  again  :  I  had  else  been  perfect ; 
Whole  as  the  marble,  founded  as  the  rock  ; 
As  broad  and  general  as  the  casing^  air  : 
But  now  I'm  cabin'd,  cribb'd,  confined,  l)ound-in 
To  saucy  doubts  and  fears.      But  Banquo's  safe? 

Mur.    Ay,  my  good  lord;  safe  in  a  ditch  he  bides, 
With  twenty  trenched  gashes  on  his  head, 
The  least  a  death  to  nature. 

1  Her  chair  of  state;  which  was  a  royal  chair  with  a  canopy  over  it. — 
Require,  in  the  next  line,  is  request.     A  frequent  usage. 

2  "  'Tis  better  on  your  outside  than  in  his  body." 

3  Casing  is  enclosing,  surrounding.  So  case,  substantive,  was  often  used 
of  any  outer  integument  or  cover,  as  the  skin.  —  "  Broad  and  general  "  is 
having  full  and  free  scope ;  unclogged. 


70  MACBETH.  ACT  in. 

Macb.  Thanks  for  that. 

There  the  grown  serpent  lies ;  the  worm  '^  that's  fled 
Hath  nature  that  in  time  will  venom  breed, 
No  teeth  for  th'  present.     Get  thee  gone  :  to-morrow 
We'll  hear't,  ourself,  again.  \_Exit  Murderer. 

Lady  M.  My  royal  lord, 

You  do  not  give  the  cheer  :  the  feast  is  sold 
That  is  not  often  vouch'd,  while  'tis  a-making, 
'Tis  given  with  welcome  :  ^  to  feed  were  best  at  home ; 
From  thence  the  sauce  to  meat  is  ceremony  ;^ 
Meeting  were  bare  without  it. 

Macb.  Sweet  remembrancer  !  — 

Now,  good  digestion  wait  on  appetite. 
And  health  on  both  ! 

Len.  May't  please  your  Highness  sit. 

\The  Ghost  of  Banquo '''  enters,  and 
sits  in  MACBETH's/Zia'ri?. 

Macb.    Here  had  we  now  our  country's  honour  roof'd, 

*  Worm  and  serpent  were  used  synonymously. 

5  The  last  clause  depends  on  vouch'd ;  "  that  is  not  often  declared  to  be 
given  with  welcome." — "The  feast  is  sold,"  that  is,  made  or  given  for 
profit,  not  as  a  frank  expression  of  kindness  and  good-will. 

6  If  merely  to  feed  were  all,  that  were  best  done  at  home:  away  from 
home,  words  and  acts  of  courtesy  are  what  give  relish  to  food. 

'  The  actual  reappearance  of  the  murdered  Banquo  on  the  stage,  in  this 
scene,  has  long  appeared  to  me  a  stark  anachronism.  It  can  hardly  fail  to 
excite  feelings  just  the  reverse  of  suitable  to  the  occasion.  It  is  indeed  cer- 
tain, from  Forman's  Notes,  that  such  reappearance  was  used  in  the  Poet's 
time;  but  there  were  good  reasons  for  it  then  which  do  not  now  exist.  In 
the  right  conception  of  the  matter,  the  ghost  is  manifestly  a  thing  existing 
only  in  the  diseased  imagination  of  Macbeth ;  what  we  call  a  subjective 
ghost,  a  Banquo  of  the  mind;  and  having  no  more  objective  being  than  the 
air-drawn  dagger  of  a  previous  scene ;  the  difference  being  that  Macbeth  is 
there  so  well  in  his  senses  as  to  be  aware  of  the  unreality,  while  he  is  here 
quite  out  of  his  senses,  and  completely  hallucinated.  All  this  is  evident  in 
that  the  apparition  is  seen  by  none  of  the  other  persons  present.  In  Shake- 
speare's time,  the  generality  of  people  could  not  possibly  take  the  conception 
of  a  subjective  ghost ;  but  it  is  not  so  now.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  253,  note  26. 


SCENE  IV.  MACBETH.  7 1 

Were  the  graced  person  of  our  Banquo  present ; 
Who  may  I  rather  challenge  for  unkindness 
Than  pity  for  mischance. 

Ross.  His  absence,  sir, 

Lays  blame  upon  his  promise.      Please't  your  Highness 
'lb  grace  us  with  your  royal  company. 

Macl^.   The  table's  full  ! 

Len.  Here  is  a  place  reserved,  sir. 

Macb.    Where  ! 

Len.    Here,  my  good   lord.     What   is't  that  moves  your 
Highness  ? 

Macb.    Which  of  you  have  done  this? 

Lords.  ^Vhat,  my  good  lord  ? 

Mach.    Thou  canst  not  say  I  did  it :  never  shake 
Thy  gory  locks  at  me. 

Ross.    Gentlemen,  rise  ;  his  Highness  is  not  well. 

Lady  M.    Sit,  worthy  friends  :   my  lord  is  often  thus, 
And  hath  been  from  his  youth  :   pray  you,  keep  seat ; 
The  fit  is  momentary  ;  upon  a  thought 
He  will  again  be  w"ell :   if  much  you  note  him. 
You  shall  ^  offend  him,  and  extend  his  passion  : 
Feed,  and  regard  him  not.  — Are  you  a  man? 

Mach.    Ay,  and  a  bold  one,  that  dare  look  on  that 
Which  might  appal  the  Devil. 

Lady  M.    [Ast'de  to  Mach.]     O  proper  stuff! 
This  is  the  very  painting  of  your  fear  : 
This  is  the  air-drawn  dagger  which,  you  said. 
Led  you  to  Duncan.     O,  these  flaws  and  starts, 
Lnpostors  to  true  fear,^  would  well  become 

•*  In  Shiikespeare's  time,  the  auxiliaries  shall  and  ■will,  like  could,  should, 
and  would,  were  often  used  indiscriminately.  The  same  usage  has  occurred 
several  times  before  in  this  p'ay. 

"^  The  meaning  probnbly  is,  that  these  hysterical  gusts  and  jerks  of  fear 
at  unrealities  are  mere  counterfeits  of  the  true  fear  that  springs  from  real 


72  MACBETH.  ACT  HI. 

A  woman's  story  at  a  Winter's  fire, 
Authorized  by  her  grandam.     Shame  itself ! 
Why  do  you  make  such  faces  ?     When  all's  done, 
You  look  but  on  a  stool. 

Math.    Pr'ythee,  see  there  !   behold  !  look  !  lo  !  how  say 
you?  — 
Why,  what  care  I  ?     If  thou  canst  nod,  speak  too. 
If  charnel-houses  and  our  graves  must  send 
Those  that  we  bury  back,  our  monuments 
Shall  be  the  maws  of  kites. ^^  [Ghost  disappears. 

Lady  M.  What,  quite  unmann'd  in  folly? 

Macb.    If  I  stand  here,  I  saw  him  ! 

Lady  M.  Fie,  for  shame  ! 

Macb.    Blood  hath  been  shed  ere  now  :   i'  the  olden  time, 
Ere  humane  statute  purged  the  gentle  weal,'' 
Ay,  and  since  too,  murders  have  been  perform'd 
Too  terrible  for  th'  ear.     The  time  has  been. 
That  when  the  brains  were  out  the  man  would  die. 
And  there  an  end ;  but  now  they  rise  again. 
With  twenty  mortal  gashes  on  their  crowns. 
And  push  us  from  our  stools  :   this  is  more  strange 
Than  such  a  murder  is. 

Lady  M.  My  worthy  lord. 

Your  noble  friends  do  lack  you. 

Macb.  I  do  forget.  — 

dangers  ;  such  counterfeits  as  impose  upov,  or  act  the  impostor  to,  those  who 
give  way  to  them.  Or  it  may  be  that  here,  as  often,  to  has  the  force  of  com- 
pared to. 

1"  The  same  thought  occurs  in  The  Faerie  Queene,  ii.  8,  i6 :  "  But  be 
entombed  in  the  raven  or  the  kite."  Also  in  Fairfax's  Tasso,  xii.  79 :  "  Let 
that  self  monster  me  in  pieces  rend,  and  deep  entomb  me  in  his  hollow 
chest."     And  an  ancient  author  calls  vultures  "  living  sepulchres." 

11  The  meaning  is,  ere  humane  statute  made  the  commonwealth  gentle 
by  purging  and  cleansing  it  from  the  wrongs  and  pollutions  of  barbarism. 
Another  prolepsis.  See  page  32,  note  i.  —  The  sense  o{  gentle,  here,  is 
civil,  sociable,  amendable  to  order  and  law. 


SCENE  IV.  MACBETH.  7^ 

Do  not  muse  ^^  at  me,  my  most  worthy  friends ; 
I  have  a  strange  infirmity,  which  is  nothing 
To  those  that  know  me.     Come,  love  and  health  to  all ; 
Then  I'll  sit  down.  —  Give  me  some  wine,  fill  fiill.  — 
I  drink  to  th'  general  joy  o'  the  whole  table. 
And  to  our  dear  friend  Banquo,  whom  we  miss  ; 
Would  he  were  here  !  to  all,  and  him,  we  thirst, 
And  all  to  all.'^ 

Lords.  Our  duties,  and  the  pledge. 

Re-enter  the  Ghost.  ••* 

Macb.    Avaunt  !    and  quit  my  sight  !    let  the  earth   hide 
thee  ! 
Thy  bones  are  marrowless,  thy  blood  is  cold  ; 
Thou  hast  no  speculation  ^^  in  those  eyes 
Which  thou  dost  glare  with  ! 

Lady  M.  Think  of  this,  good  peers, 

But  as  a  thing  of  custom  :    'tis  no  other  ; 
Only  it  spoils  the  pleasure  of  the  time. 

Macb.    What  man  dare,  I  dare  : 

12  Shakespeare  uses  to  inuse  for  to  wonder,  to  be  amazed. 

13  I  am  not  clear  as  to  the  precise  meaning  of  this :  probably  it  is,  "  We 
crave  to  drink  to  the  health  of  all,  and  of  him,  and  to  have  every  one  pres- 
ent join  in  the  pledge  to  all." 

1*  Much  question  has  been  made,  whether  there  be  not  two  several 
ghosts  in  this  scene;  some  maintaining  that  Duncan's  enters  here,  and 
Banquo's  before ;  others,  that  Banquo's  enters  here,  and  Duncan's  before. 
The  question  is  best  disposed  of  by  referring  to  Dr.  Forman,  who,  as  he 
speaks  of  Banquo's  ghost,  would  doubtless  have  spoken  of  Duncan's,  had 
there  been  any  such :  "  The  night,  being  at  supper  with  his  noblemen, 
whom  he  had  bid  to  a  feast,  (to  the  which  also  Banquo  should  have  come,) 
he  began  to  speak  of  noble  Banquo,  and  to  wish  that  lie  were  there.  And  as 
he  thus  did,  standing  tip  to  drink  a  carouse  to  him,  the  ghost  of  Banquo  came 
and  sat  down  in  his  chair  behind  him.  And  he,  turning  about  to  sit  down 
again,  saw  the  ghost  of  Banquo,  which  fronted  him,  so  that  he  fell  in  a  great 
passion  of  fear  and  fury." 

15  Speculation  in  its  proper  Latin  sense  o\  vision  ox  seeing. 


74  MACBETH.  ACT  m. 

Approach  thou  hke  the  rugged  Russian  bear, 

The  arm'd  '^  rhinoceros,  or  the  Hyrcan  tiger; 

Take  any  shape  but  that,  and  m\-  firm  nerves 

Shall  never  tremble  :  or  be  alive  again, 

And  dare  me  to  the  desert  with  thy  sword  ; 

If  trembling  I  inhabit  then,^"  protest  me 

The  baby  of  a  girl'^     Hence,  horrible  shadow  ! 

Unreal  mockery,  hence  !  [Ghost  disappears. 

Why,  so  :   being  gone, 
I  am  a  man  again.  —  Pray  you,  sit  still. 

Lady  M.    You  have  displaced  the  mirth,  broke  the  good 
meeting. 
With  most  admired  '^  disorder. 

Macb.  Can  such  things  be. 

And  overcome  us  like  a  Summer's  cloud, 
Without  our  special  wonder  ?-«     You  make  me  strange 
Even  to  the  disposition  that  I  o\ve,~i 
When  now  I  think  you  can  behold  such  sights, 

16  Arm'd  for  armoured,  referring  to  the  thickness  and  hardness  of  tha 
animal's  hide. 

1'  This  passage  is  explained  by  Home  Tooke :  "  Dare  me  to  the  desert 
with  thy  sword ;  if  then  I  do  not  meet  thee  there ;  if  trembling  I  stay  in  my 
castle,  or  any  habitation ;  If  I  then  hide  my  head,  or  dwell  in  any  place 
through  fear,  protest  me  the  baby  of  a  girl."  Milton  uses  inhabit  in  a  simi- 
lar sense.  Paradise  Lost,  vii. .  "  Meanwhile  inhabit  lax,  ye  Powers  of  Heav- 
en."    The  usage  was  not  uncommon. 

1**  "  The  baby  of  a  girl,"  some  say,  is  a  girl's  baby ;  that  is,  a  doll.  Others 
think  it  means  the  child  of  an  immature  mother.  I  suspect  it  means  sim- 
ply  a  babyish  girl.  We  have  many  like  phrases  ;  as  "  a  wonder  of  a  man  "  ; 
that  is,  a  wonderful  man.  This  explanation  was  proposed  to  me  by  Pro-, 
fessor  Howison  of  Boston. 

19  Admired  iox  admirable,  and  in  the  Latin  sense  oi  tuonderful. 

■^0  Pass  -ver  us  without  our  wonder,  as  a  casual  Summer's  cloud  passes 
unregarded. 

21  "  I  have  hitherto  supposed  myself  a  man  of  firm  courage  ;  but  that  you 
should  now  be  perfectly  unmoved  wlien  I  am  so  shaken  \"iUi  terror,  makes 
me  doubtful  of  my  own  disposition.  I  seem  a  stranger  tc  snvself,  and  can- 
not tell  what  I  am  made  of." 


SCENE  IV.  MACBETH.  y^ 

And  keep  the  natural  ruby  of  your  cheeks, 
When  mine  are  blanch 'd  with  fear. 

^oss.  \A'hat  sights,  my  lord? 

La^iy  M.    I  pray  you,  speak  not ;    he   grows   worse    and 
worse ; 
Question  enrages  him.     At  once,  good  night : 
Stand  not  upon  the  order  of  your  going,-^ 
But  go  at  once. 

Len.  Good  night ;  and  better  health 

Attend  his  Majesty  ! 

Lady  M.  A  kind  good  night  to  all  ! 

\_Exeunt  all  hut  Macbeth  and  Lady  M. 

Macb.   It  will  have  blood  ;  they  say  blood  will  have  blood  : 
Stones  have  been  known  to  move,  and  trees  to  speak ; 
Augurs,  and  understood  relations,-^  jiave 
By  magot-pies  and  chouglis  and  rooks  brought  forth 
The  secret'st  man  of  blood.  — What  is  the  niglit? 

Lady  M.    Almost  at  odds  with  morning,  which  is  which. 

Macb.  How  say'st  thou,^^  that  Macduff  denies  his  person 
At  our  great  bidding  ? 

Lady  M.  Did  you  send  to  him,  sir? 

Macb.    I  hear  it  by  the  way,  but  I  will  send  : 

2"-  Stay  not  to  go  out  according  to  your  rank  or  order  of  preceilence. 

23  A  passage  very  obscure  to  general  readers,  but  probably  intelligible 
enough  to  those  experienced  in  the  course  of  criminal  trials ;  where  two  or 
three  little  facts  or  items  of  testimony  may  be  of  no  significance  taken  sin- 
gly or  by  themselves ;  yet,  when  they  are  put  together  and  their  relations 
understood,  they  may  be  enough  to  convict  or  acquit  the  accused.  And 
even  so  trifling  a  matter  as  the  note  or  talk  of  a  parrot,  interpreted  in  the 
light  of  such  relations,  may  prove  decisive  of  the  case.  Magot-pie  or  mag- 
pie and  chough  are  old  words  ior  parrot  or  parraquito. 

-••  "  What  do  you  say  of  \\\\s,  fact  or  circumstance  ?  "  —  By  "  our  great  bid- 
ding" is  meant,  not  any  particular  request  or  order  to  Macduff,  but  the 
general  invitation  implied  in  the  very  purpose  of  the  banquet.  Macbeth 
has  heard  of  his  refusal  only  "  by  the  way,"  that  is,  incidentally,  or  through 
a  "  fee'd  servant."  Such  is  the  substance  of  Ehvin's  explanation  as  given  in 
Mr.  Furness's  Variorum.  —  See,  below,  page  79,  note  4. 


^6  MACBETH.  ACT  III. 

There  is  not  one  of  them  but  in  his  house 

I  keep  a  servant  fee'd.-''     I  will  to-morrow  — 

Ay,  and  betimes  I  will  —  to  th'  Weird  Sisters  : 

More  shall  they  speak ;  for  now  I'm  bent  to  know, 

By  the  worst  means,  the  worst.     For  mine  own  good 

All  causes  shall  give  way  :  *I  am  in  blood 

*Stepp'd  in  so  far,  that,  should  I  wade  no  more, 

*Returning  were  as  tedious  as  go  o'er  : 

*Strange  things  I  have  in  head,  that  will  to  hand  ; 

*Which  must  be  acted  ere  they  may  be  scann'd. 

Lady  M.    You  lack  the  season  -^  of  all  natures,  sleep. 

Mach.    Come,  we'll  to  sleep.     *My  strange  and  self- abuse 
*Is  the  initiate  fear,^'''  that  wants  hard  use  : 
*VVe're  yet  but  young  in  deed.  \_Exeunt. 

*SCENE  V.  —  A  Heath.     Thunder. 

*  Enter  the  tJirce  Witches,  meeting  Hecate. 

*/  Witch.    Why,  how  now,  Hecate  !  you  look  angerly. 
*Hec.    Have  I  not  reason,  beldams  as  you  are, 

*Saucy  and  overbold  ?     How  did  you  dare 

*To  trade  and  traffic  with  Macbeth 

*In  riddles  and  affairs  of  death  ; 

*And  I,  the  mistress  of  your  charms, 

25  Meaning  that  he  has  paid  spies  lurking  and  prowling  about  in  the 
families  of  all  the  noblemen,  and  using  the  advantage  of  their  place  as  ser- 
vants to  get  information  for  him.  The  meanest  and  hatefullest  practice  of 
a  jealous  tyrant ! 

26  Johnson  explains  this,  "  You  want  sleep,  which  seasons  or  gives  the  rel- 
ish to  all  nacures."  So  in  Cymbeline,  i.  6  :  "  Blest  be  those,  how  mean  soe'er, 
that  have  their  honest  wills  ;  which  seasons  comfort." 

27  The  initiate  fear  is  the  fear  that  attends  the  first  stages  of  guilt.  —  The 
and  in  this  speech  is  redundant.  The  Poet  continually  uses  abuse  for  delu- 
sion  or  deception.  So,  here,  self-abuse  is  self-delusion.  •  Macbeth  now  knows 
that  the  Banquo  he  has  just  seen  was  but  a  Banquo  of  the  mind. 


SCENE  V,  MACBETH.  jn 

*The  close  ^  contriver  of  all  harms, 

*\Vas  never  call'd  to  bear  my  part, 

*0r  show  the  glory  of  our  art  ? 

*And,  which  is  worse,  all  you  have  done 

*Hath  been  but  for  a  wayward  son, 

*Spiteful  and  wrathful ;  who,  as  others  do, 

*Loves  for  his  own  ends,  not  for  you. 

*But  make  amends  now  :  get  you  gone, 

*And  at  the  pit  of  Acheron 

*Meet  me  i'  the  morning  :   thither  he 

*Will  come  to  know  his  destiny  : 

*Your  vessels  and  your  spells  provide, 

*Your  charms,  and  every  thing  beside. 

*I  am  for  th'  air;  this  night  I'll  spend 

*Unto  a  dismal  and  a  fatal  end  : 

*Great  business  must  be  wrought  ere  noon  : 

*Upon  the  corner  of  tlie  Moon 

*There  hangs  a  vaporous  drop  profound  ;2 

*ril  catch  it  ere  it  come  to  ground  : 

*And  that,  distill'd  by  magic  sleights,^ 

*Shall  raise  such  artificial  sprites, 

*As,  by  the  strength  of  their  illusion, 

*Shall  draw  him  on  to  his  confusion  : 

*He  shall  spurn  fate,  scorn  death,  and  bear 

*His  hopes  'bove  wisdom,  grace,  and  fear ; 

*And  you  all  know  security  '^ 

*Is  mortals'  chiefest  enemy. 

1  Here,  as  often,  close  is  secret  or  unseen.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  190,  note  25. 

2  Profound  here  signifies  having  deep  or  secret  qualities.  The  vaporous 
drop  seems  to  have  been  the  same  as  the  virus  lunare  of  the  ancients,  being 
a  foam  which  the  Moon  was  supposed  to  shed  on  particular  herbs,  or  other 
objects,  when  strongly  solicited  by  enchantments. 

3  Sleights  is  arts,  or  subtle  practices :  as  in  the  phrase,  "  sleight  of  hand." 
■*  Security  in  the  Latin  sense  oi  over-confidence  or  presumption.     Both  the 

noun  and  the  adjective  are  often  used  thus. 


y8  MACBETH.  ACT  in. 

*  [Music  and  a  Song  within  :  Come  aivay,  come  away,  d;'c.^ 

*Hark  !  I  am  call'd ;  my  little  spirit,  see, 
*Sits  in  a  foggy  cloud,  and  stays  for  me.         \_Exit. 
*i  Witch.    Come,  let's  make  haste  ;  she'll  soon  be  back 
again.  \_Exeunf. 


Scene  VI.  —  Forres.     A  Room  in  the  Pa /ace. 

Enter  Lennox  and  another  Lord. 

ten.    My  former  speeches  have  but  hit  your  thoughts, 
Which  can  interpret  further  :  only,  I  say, 
Things  have  been  strangely  borne.     The  gracious  Duncan 
Was  pitied  of  Macbeth  :  marry,  he  w^as  dead  : 
And  the  right-valiant  Banquo  walk'd  too  late  ; 
Whom,  you  may  say,  if  t  please  you,  Fleance  kill'd, 
For  Fleance  fled  :   men  must  not  walk  too  late. 
Who  can  now  want  the  thought, i  how  monstrous 
It  was  for  Malcolm  and  for  Donalbain 
To  kill  their  gracious  father?  damned  fact  ! 
How  it  did  grieve  Macbeth  !  did  lie  not  straight, 
In  pious  rage,  the  two  delinquents  tear, 
That  were  the  slaves  of  drink  and  thralls  of  sleep  ? 
Was  not  that  nobly  done  ?     Ay,  and  wisely  too ; 
For  'twould  have  anger'd  any  heart  alive 
To  hear  the  men  deny't.     So  that,  I  say, 
He  has  borne  all  things  well :  and  I  do  think 
That,  had  he  Duncan's  sons  under  his  key, — 
As,  an't  please  Heaven,  he  shall  not,  —  they  should  find 
What  'twere  to  kill  a  father ;  so  should  Fleance. 

5  For  the  rest  of  the  song  used  here,  see  Critical  Notes. 
1  An  old  form  of  speech,  meaning  "  be  without  the  thought,"  or  lack  it. 
We  should  say,  "  Who  can  help  thinking  ?  " 


SCENE  VI.  MACBETH.  79 

But,  peace  !  for  from  broad  ^  words,  and  'cause  he  fail'd 
His  presence  at  the  tyrant's  feast,  I  hear, 
Macduff  lives  in  disgrace.     Sir,  can  you  tell 
Where  he  bestows  himself? 

Lord.  The  son  of  Duncan, 

From  whom  this  tyrant  holds  the  due  of  birth, 
Lives  in  the  English  Court ;  and  is  received 
Of  the  most  pious  Edward  with  such  grace. 
That  the  malevolence  of  fortune  nothing 
Takes  from  his  high  respect.     Thither  Macduff 
Is  gone  to  pray  the  holy  King,  upon  his  aid 
To  wake  Northumberland  and  warlike  Siward  ; 
That  by  the  help  of  these,  with  Him  above 
To  ratify  the  work,  we  may  again 
Give  to  our  tables  meat,  sleep  to  our  nights  ; 
Keep  from  our  feasts  and  banquets  bloody  knives  ; 
Do  faithful  homage  and  receive  free  honours  ; 
All  which  we  pine  for  now  :  and  this  report 
Hath  so  exasperate  "^  the  King,  that  he 
Prepares  for  some  attempt  of  war. 

Leu.  Sent  he  to  Macduff? 

Lord.    He  did  :   and  with  an  absolute  Sir,  not  /, 
The  cloudy  messenger  turns  me  his  back, 
And  hums,  as  who  should  say,''  You'll  rue  the  time 

2  Broad,  here,  \s  plain,  outright,  free-spoken. 

3  Exasperate  for  exasperated.  The  Poet  has  many  such  shortened  pre- 
terites ;  as  consecrate,  contaminate ,  dedicate. 

^  "As  who  should  say  "  is  equivalent  to  as  if  he  were  saying,  or  as  much 
as  to  say.  A  frequent  usage.  —  Cloudy  is  angry,  frowning. —  In  "  turns  me 
his  back,"  me  is  redundant.  Often  so.  —  It  appears,  at  the  close  of  scene  4, 
that  Macbeth  did  not  give  Macduff  a  special  and  direct  invitation  to  the 
banquet;  but  his  attendance  was  expected  as  a  matter  of  course;  and  his 
failure  to  attend  made  him  an  object  of  distrust  and  suspicion  to  the  tyrant. 
We  are  to  suppose  that  Macbeth  learned,  from  the  paid  spy  and  informer 
whom  he  kept  in  Macduff's  house,  that  the  latter  had  declared  he  would 
not  go  to  the  feast.    So  that  the  messenger  here  spoken  of  was  probably  not 


8o  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

That  clogs  me  with  this  answer. 

Len.  And  that  well  might 

Advise  him  to  a  caution,  to  hold  what  distance 
His  wisdom  can  provide.     Some  holy  angel 
Fly  to  the  Court  of  England,  and  unfold 
His  message  ere  he  come  ;  that  a  swift  blessing 
May  soon  return  to  this  our  suffering  country 
Under  a  hand  accursed  !  ^ 

Lord.  I'll  send  my  prayers  with  him. 

\_Exeunt. 


ACT   IV. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Cavern.     In  the  Middle,  a  Boiling  Cauldron. 
Thunder.     Enter  the  three  Witches. 

/  Witch.    Thrice  the  brinded  ^  cat  hath  mew'd. 
2  Witch.    Thrice  and  once  ^  the  hedge-pig  whined. 
J  Witch.    Harpy  cries  ;  'tis  time,  'tis  time.^ 
I  Witch.    Round  about  the  cauldron  go  ; 

In  the  poison'd  entrails  throw.  — 

Toad,  that  under  the  cold  stone 

Days  and  nights  hast  thirty-one 

Svvelter'd  venom  sleeping  got, 

Boil  thou  first  i'  the  charmed  pot. 

sent  to  invite  Macduff,  but  to  call  him  to  account  for  his  non-attendance. 
See  page  75,  notes  24  and  25. 

5  The  order  is,  "  our  country  suffering  under  a  hand  accursed." 

1  Brinded  is  but  an  old  form  of  brindled.     The  colour,  as  I  used  to  hear 
it  applied  to  cats  and  cows,  was  a  dark  brown  streaked  with  black. 

2  Thrice  and  once  is  put  {ox  four,  because,  on  such  occasions,  the  calling 
of  even  numbers  was  thought  unlucky. 

3  Harpy's  cry  is  the  signal,  showing  that  it  is  time  to  begin  their  work. 
Harpy  is  of  course  a  familiar.     See  page  12,  note  2. 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  8 1 

All.    Double,  double  toil  and  trouble  ; 

Fire,  burn  ;  and,  cauldron,  bubble. 
2  Witch.    Fillet  of  a  fenny  snake, 

In  the  cauldron  boil  and  bake  ; 

Eye  of  newt,  and  toe  of  frog. 

Wool  of  bat,  and  tongue  of  dog. 

Adder's  fork,  and  blind-worm's  stingj-^ 

Lizard's  leg,  and  howlet's  wing,  — 

For  a  charm  of  powerful  trouble, 

Like  a  hell-broth  boil  and  bubble. 
All.    Double,  double  toil  and  trouble ; 

Fire,  burn  ;  and,  cauldron,  bubble, 
J  Witch.    Scale  of  dragon  ;  tooth  of  wolf; 

Witches'  mummy  ;  ^  maw  and  gulf 

Of  the  ravin  salt-sea  shark  ;  ^ 

Root  of  hemlock  digg'd  i'  the  dark  ;  "^ 

Liver  of  blaspheming  Jew  ; 

Gall  of  goat ;  and  slips  of  yew 

Sliv.er'd  in  the  Moon's  eclipse  ;  ^ 

Nose  of  Turk,  and  Tartar's  lips  ; 

^  4  i^'ork  is  put  iox  forked  tongue.  The  adder's  tongue  was  thought  to  liave 
a  poisonous  sting.  —  Blind-worm  is  the  slowworni.  Called  "  eyeless  ven- 
om'd  worm"  in  Timon  of  Athens,  iv.  3. 

5  Probably  meaning  the  mummy  of  an  old  Egyptian  witch  embalmed. 
Honest  mummy  was  much  used  as  medicine;  and  a  witch's  of  course 
had  evil  magic  in  it.  Sir  Tiiomas  Browne,  in  his  Ilydriotaphia,  has  the  fol- 
lowing :  "The  Egyptian  mummy,  which  Cambyses  or  time  hath  spared,  av- 
arice now  consumeth.  Mummy  is  become  merchandise,  Mizraim  cures 
wounds,  and  Pharaoh  is  sold  for  balsams." 

6  Ravin  for  ravenous  or  ravening.  See  vol.  iv.  page  70,  note  7.  —  Maw 
\%  stomach. —  Gulf  \%  gullet  ox  throat ;  that  which  swallows  ox  gulps  down 
any  thing. 

"  Any  poisonous  root  was  thought  to  become  more  poisonous  if  dug  on 
a  dark  night.    See  vol.  xiv.  page  235,  note  38. 

8  A  lunar  eclipse  was  held  to  be  fraught  with  evil  magic  of  the  highest 
intensity.  So  in  Paradise  Lost,  i.  597  :  "  The  Moon  in  dim  eclipse  disastrous 
twilight  sheds  on  half  the  nations." 


^2  MACBETH.  ACT  iv. 

Finger  of  birth-strangled  babe 

Ditch-deliver'd  by  a  drab,  — 

Make  the  gruel  thick  and  slab  : 

Add  thereto  a  tiger's  chaudron,^ 

For  th'  ingredients  of  our  cauldron. 
All.    Double,  double  toil  and  trouble  ; 

Fire,  burn ;  and,  cauldron,  bubble. 
2  Witch.    Cool  it  with  a  baboon's  blood. 

Then  the  charm  is  firm  and  good. 

*  Enter  Hecate. 

*Hec.    O,  well  done  !  I  commend  your  pains  ; 

*And  every  one  shall  share  i'  the  gains  : 

*And  now  about  the  cauldron  sing, 

*Like  elves  and  fairies  in  a  ring, 

*  Enchanting  all  that  you  put  in. 

*  [Music  and  song.  Black  spirits,  6"t-.io 
\_Exit  Hecate. 
*2  Witch.    By  the  pricking  of  my  thumbs,  ' 

*Something  wicked  this  way  comes  :  — 

*Open,  locks,  whoever  knocks  ! 

Enter  Macbeth. 

Macb.  How  now,  your  secret,  black,  and  midnight  hags  ! 
What  is't  you  do  ? 

All.  A  deed  without  a  name. 

Macb.    I  c6njure  you,  by  that  which  you  profess,  — 
Howe'er  you  come  to  know  it,  —  answer  me  : 
Though  you  untie  the  winds,  and  let  them  fight 

9  Chaudron  is  entrails.  —  Slab  is  glutinous  or  slabby ;  what,  in  making 
soft  soap,  used  to  be  called  ropy. 

1"  I  here  print  just  as  it  is  in  the  original.  The  song  commonly  used  on 
the  stage  is  from  The  Witch  of  Middleton.     See  Critical  Notes. 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  83 

Against  the  churches  ;  though  the  yesty  11  waves 

Confound  and  swallow  navigation  up  ; 

Though  bladed  corn  be  lodged, i~  and  trees  blown  down ; 

Though  castles  topple  on  their  warders'  heads  ; 

Though  palaces  and  pyramids  do  slope 

Their  heads  to  their  foundations  ;  though  the  treasure 

Of  Nature's  germens  ^^  tumble  all  together, 

Even  till  destruction  sicken,  —  answer  me 

To  what  I  ask  )ou. 

1  Witch.  Speak. 

2  Witch.  Demand. 

3  Witch.  We'll  answer. 

I  Witch.    Say,  if  thou'dst  rather  hear  it  from  our  mouths, 
Or  from  our  masters? 

Macb.  Call  'em,  let  me  see  'em. 

I  Witch.    Pour  in  sow's  blood,  that  hath  eaten 

Her  nine  farrow  ;  1^  grease  that's  sweaten 
From  the  murderer's  gibbet  throw 
Into  the  flame. 
All.  Come,  high  or  low  ; 

Thyself  and  office  deftly  ^^  show  ! 

Thunder.     An  Apparition  of  an  armed  Head  rises. '^^ 

Macb.    Tell  me,  thou  unknown  power,  — 

II  Yesty'\s  foa77iing,  frothy  ;  \\Vtt  yeast. 

12  "Bladed  corn  "  is  corn  in  the  blade. —  Lodged  is  laid. 

13  Germens  are  the  seeds,  the  springs  or  principles  oi germijiation,  whether 
in  plants  or  animals.  —  "Till  destruction  sicken"  probably  means  till  de- 
struction grows  sick  of  destroying. 

i"*  Nine  farrow  is  a  Utter  of  nine  pigs.  Farrow  is  from  the  Anglo-Saxon 
feark,  which  me?Lr\s  give  birth  to  pigs. 

15  Deftly  is  adroitly,  dexterously. 

16  The  armed  head  represents  symbolically  Macbeth's  head  cut  off  and 
brought  to  Malcolm  by  Macduff.  The  bloody  child  is  Macduff,  untimely 
ripped  from  his  mother's  womb.  The  child,  with  a  crown  on  his  head  and 
a  bough  in  his  hand,  is  the  royal  Malcolm,  who  ordered  his  soldiers  to  hew 
them  down  a  bough,  and  bear  it  before  them  to  Dunsinane.  —  UPTON. 


^4  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

/  Witch.    He  knows  thy  thought : 

Hear  his  speech,  but  say  thou  nought. i' 

1  App.    Macbeth!  Macbeth!  Macbeth!  beware  Macduff; 
Beware  the  Thane  of  Fife.  —  Dismiss  me  :  enough.'® 

{^DesL'ends. 

Macb.    Whate'er  thou  art,  for  thy  good  caution,  thanks  ; 
Thou'st  harp'd  my  fear  aright :   but  one  word  more,  — 

/  Witcli.    He  will  not  be  commanded  :  here's  another, 
More  potent  than  the  first. 

Thunder.     An  Apparition  of  a  bloody  Child  rises. 

2  App.    Macbeth  !  Macbeth  !  Macbeth  !  — 
Macb.    Had  I  three  ears,  I'd  hear  thee.i^ 

2  App.   —  Be  bloody,  bold,  and  resolute  ;  laugh  to  scorn 
The  power  of  man,  for  none  of  woman  born 
Shall  harm  Macbeth.  ^Descends. 

Macb.   Then  live,  Macduff:  what  need  I  fear  of  thee? 
But  yet  I'll  make  assurance  double-sure, 
And  take  a  bond  of  fate  :  ^o  thou  shalt  not  live  ; 
That  I  may  tell  pale-hearted  fear  it  lies, 
And  sleep  in  spite  of  thunder.  — 

Thunder.     An  Apparition  of  a  Child  crowned,  with  a  tree 
in  his  hand,  rises. 

What  is  this. 
That  rises  like  the  issue  of  a  king. 
And  wears  upon  his  baby  brow  the  round 
And  top  of  sovereignty?-' 

1''  Silence  was  necessary  during  all  incantations.  So  in  The  Tempest : 
"  Be  mu/e,  or  else  our  spell  is  marr'd." 

18  Spiritr  thus  evoked  were  supposed  impatient  of  being  questioned. 

19  The  meaning  probably  is,  "  Had  I  more  ears  than  I  have,  I  would  lis- 
ten with  them  all."  The  stress  is  on  f/iz-ee,  not  on  ears.  So  the  phrase  still 
in  use:  "  I  listened  with  all  the  ears  I  had." 

20  That  is,  "  I  will  bind  fate  itself  to  my  cause." 

21  The  round  is  that  part  of  a  crown  which  encircles  the  head :  the  (op  is 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  85 

All.  Listen,  but  speak  not  to't. 

J  App.    Be  lion-mettled,  proud  ;  and  take  no  care 
Who  chafes,  who  frets,  or  where  conspirers  are  : 
Macbeth  shall  never  vanquish'd  be,  until 
Great  Birnam  wood  to  high  Dunsinane  '-^^  hill 
Shall  come  against  him.  \_Descends. 

Alacb.  That  will  never  be  : 

Who  can  impress  the  forest  ;2^  *bid  the  tree 
*Unfix  his  earth-bound  root?     Sweet  bodements  !  good  ! 
*Rebellion's  head   rise  never,  till  the  wood 
*0f  Birnam  rise,  and  our  high-placed  Macbeth 
*Shall  live  the  lease  of  Nature,  pay  his  breath 
*To  time  and  mortal  custom.*  -^     Yet  my  heart 
Throbs  to  know  one  thing  :   tell  me,  —  if  your  art 
Can  tell  so  much,  —  shall  Banquo's  issue  ever 
Reign  in  this  kingdom  ? 

All.  Seek  to  know  no  more. 

Macb.    I  will  be  satisfied  :   deny  me  this. 
And  an  eternal  curse  fall  on  you  !    Let  me  know  — 
Why  sinks  that  cauldron  ?  and  what  noise  is  this  ?  {^Hautboys. 

1  Witch.    Show! 

2  Witch.    Show  ! 

3  Witch.    Show! 

All.    Show  his  eyes,  and  grieve  his  heart ; 
Come  like  shadows,  so  depart  ! 

Eight  Kings  appear,  and  pass  over  in  order,  the  last  with  a 
glass  in  his  hand ;  Banquo's  Ghost  following. 

Macb.    Thou  art  too  like  the  spirit  of  Banquo  ;  down  ! 

(he  ornament  which   rises  above  it,  and  is  symbolical  of  sovereign  power 
and  honour. 

22  The  present  accent  of  Dunsinane  is  right.     In  every  otlier  instance  the 
accent  is  misplaced. 

23  "  Who  can  press  the  forest  into  his  service  ?  " 

24  Shall  Hve  the  full  time  allotted  to  man,  and  then  die  a  natural  death. 


86  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

Thy  crown  does  sear  mine  eyeballs.  —  And  thy  air,^^ 
Thou  other  gold-bound  brow,  is  like  the  first : 
A  third  is  like  the  former.  —  Filthy  hags  ! 
Why  do  you  show  me  this  ?  —  A  fourth  !  —  Start,  eyes  ! 
What,  will  the  line  stretch  out  to  th'  crack  of  doom? 
Another  yet  !     A  seventh  !     I'll  see  no  more  : 
And  yet  the  eighth  appears,  who  bears  a  glass  ^"^ 
Which  shows  me  many  more  ;  and  some  I  see 
That  twofold  balls  and  treble  sceptres  carry  :  -'^ 
Horrible  sight  !     Nay,  now  I  see  'tis  true  ; 
For  the  blood-bolter'd-^  Banquo  smiles  upon  me, 
And  points  at  them  for  his.  —  What,  is  this  so  ? 
I  Wifch.    Ay,  sir,  all  this  is  so.     *But  why 

*Stands  Macbeth  thus  amazedly?  — 
*Come,  sisters,  cheer  we  up  his  sprites, 

25  Air  for  look  or  appearance.     See  vol.  vii.  page  250,  note  7. 

26  The  notion  of  a  magic  glass  or  charmed  mirror,  wherein  any  one 
might  see  whatsoever  of  the  distant  or  the  future  pertained  to  himseif, 
seems  to  have  been  a  part  of  the  old  Druidical  mythology.  There  is  an 
allusion  to  it  in  Measure  for  Measure,  ii.  2;  "  And,  like  a  prophet,  looks  in  a 
glass  that  shows  what  future  evils,"  &c.  Such  was  the  "  brod  mirrour  of 
glas  "  which  "  the  king  of  Arable  and  of  Inde  "  sent  to  Cambuscan,  as  related 
in  The  Squicres  Tale  of  Chaucer.  But  the  most  wonderful  glass  of  this 
kind  was  that  described  in  The  Faerie  Queene,  iii.  2,  which 

The  great  Magitien  Merlin  had  deviz'd 

By  his  deepe  science  and  hell-dreaded  might. 

-"  The  two  balls  or  globes  probably  symbolized  the  two  independent 
crowns  of  England  and  Scotland  ;  the  three  sceptres,  the  kingdoms  of  Eng- 
land, Scotland,  and  Ireland.  Scott,  in  Quentin  Durward,  when  Charles  the 
Bold  has  Louis  of  France  in  his  power,  makes  Comines  say  to  the  King, 
that  "it  is  his  (the  Duke's)  purpose  to  close  his  ducal  coronet  with  an  im- 
perial arch,  and  surmount  it  with  2. globe,  in  emblem  that  his  dominions  an." 
independent' 

28  In  Warwickshire,  when  a  horse,  sheep,  or  other  animal  perspires 
much,  and  any  of  the  hair  or  wool  becomes  matted  into  tufts  with  grime 
and  sweat,  he  is  said  to  be  boltered  ;  and  whenever  the  blood  issues  out  and 
coagulates,  forming  the  locks  into  hard  clotted  bunches,  the  beast  is  said  to 
be  blood-boltered. 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  87 

*And  show  the  best  of  our  delights  : 
*ril  charm  the  air  to  give  a  sound, 
*While  you  perform  your  antic  round ; 
*That  this  great  King  may  kindly  say 
*Our  duties  did  his  welcome  pay. 
*[_Music.    The  Witches  dance,  and  tlien  vanish. 
Macb.     Where    are    they?     Gone?     Let    this     pernicious 
hour 

Stand  aye  accursed  in  the  calendar  !  ~'^  — 

Come  in,  without  there  ! 

Enter  Lennox. 

Le7i.  What's  your  Grace's  will? 

Macb.    Saw  you  the  Weird  Sisters  ? 

Len.  No,  my  lord. 

Macb.    Came  they  not  by  you  ? 

Len.  No,  indeed,  my  lord, 

Macb.    Infected  be  the  air  whereon  they  ride  ; 
And  damn'd  all  those  that  trust  them  !     I  did  hear 
The  galloping  of  horse'  :  who  was't  came  by  ? 

Len.    'Tis  two  or  three,  my  lord,  that  bring  you  word 
Macduff  is  fled  to  England. 

Macb.  Fled  to  England  ! 

Len.    Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Macb.     S^Aside.']     Time,  thou    anticipatest  "^^    my    dread 
exploits  : 
The  flighty  purpose  never  is  o'ertook 
Unless  the  deed  go  with  it :  from  this  moment 
The  very  firstlings  of  my  heart  shall  be 
The  firstlings  of  my  hand.     And  even  now, 

29  Alluding  to  the  old  custom  of  marking  down  lucky  and  unlucky  days 
in  the  almanacs. 

30  The  Poet  ofien  lias  prevent  in  the  sense  of  anticipate  ;  here  lie  has  an- 
ticipate in  the  sense  oiprevent. 


05  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

To  crown  my  thoughts  with  acts,  be't  thought  and  done  : 

The  castle  of  Macduff  I  will  surprise  ; 

Seize  upon  Fife ;  give  to  the  edge  o'  the  sword 

His  wife,  his  babes,  and  all  unfortunate  souls 

That  trace  him  in  his  line.     *No  boasting  like  a  fool; 

*This  deed  I'll  do  before  this  purpose  cool : 

But  no  more  sights  !^'  — Where  are  these  gentlemen? 

Come,  bring  me  where  they  are.  \_Exeunt, 


Scene  II.  —  Fife.     A  Room  in  Macduff's  Castle. 
Enter  Lady  Macduff,  her  Son,  and  Ross. 

Z.  Macd.    What  had  he  done,  to  make  him  fly  the  land? 

Ross.    You  must  have  patience,  madam. 

Z.  Macd.  He  had  none  ; 

His  flight  was  madness  :  when  our  actions  do  not, 
Our  fears  do  make  ^  us  traitors. 

Ross.  You  know  not 

Whether  it  was  his  wisdom  or  his  fear. 

Z.  Macd.    Wisdom  !  to  leave  his  wife,  to  leave  his  babes, 
His  mansion,  and  his  titles,  in  a  place 
From  whence  himself  does  fly  !     He  loves  us  not ; 
He  wants  the  natural  touch  :  ^  for  the  poor  wren, 
The  most  diminutive  of  birds,  will  fight, 
Her  young  ones  in  her  nest,"^  against  the  owl. 

31  Macbeth  does  not  at  all  relish  the  vision  of  Banquo,  &c.,  shown  him 
in  the  cavern  :  it  vexes  and  disturbs  him  greatly.  This  is  evidently  what  he 
refers  to  here. 

1  Make  in  the  sense  of  make  out  or  prove.  "  When  our  actions  do  not 
convict  us  of  being  traitors,  our  fears  do."  The  Lady  is  apprehensive  that 
her  husbaiid's  flight  will  be  construed  as  proceeding  from  guilty  fear. 

2  The  sense  or  sensibility  of  nature  or  natural  affection.  The  Poet  has 
"inly  touch  of  love  "  in  a  like  sense. 

3  That  is,  "  her  young  ones  being  in  her  nest."     Ablative  absolute. 


SCENE  II.  MACBETH.  89 

All  is  the  fear,  and  nothing  is  the  love ; 
As  little  is  the  wisdom,  where  the  flight 
So  runs  against  all  reason. 

Ross.  My  dear'st  coz, 

I  pray  you,  school  yourself :  but,  for  your  husband,"* 
He's  noble,  wise,  judicious,  and  best  knows 
The  fits  o'  the  season.^     I  dare  not  speak  much  further : 
But  cruel  are  the  times,  when  we  are  traitors. 
And  do  not  know't  ourselves  ;  when  we  hold  rumour 
From  what  we  fear,  yet  know  not  what  we  fear,^ 
But  float  upon  a  wild  and  violent  sea 
Each  way  it  moves.     I  take  my  leave  of  you  ; 
Shall  not  be  long  but  I'll  be  here  again. 
Things  at  the  worst  will  cease,  or  else  climb  upward 
To  what  they  were  before.''  —  My  pretty  cousin, 
Blessing  upon  you  ! 

Z.  Macd.    Father'd  he  is,  and  yet  he's  fatherless. 

Ross.    I  am  so  much  a  fool,  should  I  stay  longer. 
It  would  be  my  disgrace  and  your  discomfort :  ^ 
I  take  my  leave  at  once.  \_Exit. 

L.  Macd.  Sirrah, 9  your  father's  dead  : 

And  what  will  you  do  now  ?     How  will  you  live  ? 

So7i.    As  birds  do,  mother. 

L.  Macd.  What,  with  worms  and  flies? 

Son.    With  what  I  get,  I  mean  ;  and  so  do  they. 

*  As  to,  or  as  regards,  your  husband.     For  is  often  used  thus. 

5  The  exigencies  or  dangers  of  the  time.     Fits  for  turns  or  changes. 

6  "  Fear  makes  us  credit  rumour,  yet  we  know  not  what  to  fear,  because 
ignorant  when  we  offend."  A  condition  wherein  men  believe,  because  they 
fear,  and  fear  the  more,  because  they  cannot  foresee  the  danger. 

^  Meaning,  apparently,  that,  the  worse  a  disease  becomes,  the  sooner 
there  will  be  either  death  or  recovery.  The  very  excess  of  an  evil  often 
starts  a  reaction,  and  thence  a  return  to  a  better  state. 

8  Meaning  that  he  would  fall  into  the  unmanly  act  of  weeping. 

9  Sirrah  is  liere  used  playfully ;  perhaps  as  a  note  of  motherly  pride. 


90  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

Z.  Macd.  Poor  bird  !  thou'dst  never  fear  the  net  nor  lime, 
The  pitfall  nor  the  gin."^ 

Son.    Why  should  I,  mother?      Poor  birds  they  are  not 
set  for.^i 
My  father  is  not  dead,  for  all  your  saying. 

Z.  Macd.    Yes,  he  is  dead  :  how  wilt  thou  do  for  a  father? 

Son.    Nay,  how  will  you  do  for  a  husband  ? 

Z.  Macd.    Why,  I  can  buy  me  twenty  at  any  market. 

Son.    Then  you'll  buy  'em  to  sell  again. 

Z.  Macd.  Thou  speak'st  with  all  thy  wit ;  and  yet,  i'faith, 
With  wit  enough  for  thee. 

Son.    Was  my  father  a  traitor,  mother? 

Z.  Macd.    Ay,  that  he  was. 

Son.    What  is  a  traitor  ? 

Z.  Macd.    Why,  one  that  swears  and  lies. 

Son.    And  be  all  traitors  that  do  so  ? 

Z.  Macd.  Every  one  that  does  so  is  a  traitor,  and  must 
be  hang'd. 

Son.    And  must  they  all  be  hang'd  that  swear  and  lie  ? 

Z.  Macd.    Every  one. 

Son.    Who  must  hang  them? 

Z.  Macd.    Why,  the  honest  men. 

Son.  Then  the  liars  and  swearers  are  fools  ;  for  there  are 
liars  and  swearers  enough  to  beat  the  honest  men,  and  hang 
up  them. 

Z.  Macd.  Now,  God  help  thee,  poor  monkey  !  But  how 
wilt  thou  do  for  a  father? 

Son.  If  he  were  dead,  you'd  weep  for  him  :  if  you  would 
not,  it  were  a  good  sign  that  I  should  tyaickly  have  a  new 
father. 

10  Gut  is  trap  or  snare.  —  Lime  for  birdlime,  the  name  of  an  old  device 
for  ensnaring  birds.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  244,  note  8. 

11  The  bright  boy's  thought  seems  to  be,  that  traps  are  not  set  for  the 
poor,  but  for  the  rich  ;  nor  for  children,  like  himself,  but  for  full-grown  men. 


*<^*NE  II.  MACBETH.  gi 

Z.  Macd.    Poor  prattler,  how  thou  talk'st ! 
Enter  a  Messenger,  i- 

Mess.    Bless  you,  fair  dame  !   I  am  not  to  you  known, 
Though  in  your  state  of  honour  I  am  perfect.^^ 
I  doubt  14  some  danger  does  approach  you  nearly  : 
If  you  will  take  a  homely  man's  advice, 
Be  not  found  here  ;  hence,  with  your  little  ones. 
To  fright  you  thus,!^  methinks,  I  am  too  savage ; 
To  do  worse  to  you  were  fell  cruelty, 
Which  is  too  nigh  your  person.     Heaven  preserve  you  ! 
I  dare  abide  no  longer.  [Exit. 

L.  Macd.  Wherefore  should  I  fly  ? 

I've  done  no  harm.     But  I  remember  now 
I'm  in  this  earthly  world  ;  where  to  do  harm 
Is  often  laudable  ;  to  do  good,  sometime 
Accounted  dangerous  folly :   why  then,  alas, 
Do  I  put  up  that  womanly  defence, 
To  say  I've  done  no  harm?  — 

Enter  Murderers. 

What  are  these  faces? 
I  Miir.    Where  is  your  husband  ? 
L.  Macd.    I  hope,  in  no  place  so  unsanctified 
Where  such  as  thou  mayst  find  him. 

/  Miir.  He's  a  traitor. 

'^  This  messenger  was  one  of  the  murderers  employed  by  Macbeth  to 
exterminate  Macduff's  family;  but  who,  from  emotions  of  remorse  and 
pity,  had  outstripped  his  companions,  to  give  timely  warning  of  their  ap- 
proach.—  Heath. 

1*  That  is,  "  perfectly  acquainted  with  your  honourable  rank  and  charac- 
ter."    The  Poet  \vas  perfect  repeatedly  so. 

!•*  Here,  as  often,  doubt  is  used  lox  fear  or  suspect. 

16  "  To  fright  you  "  for  in  frightening  you.     See  page  45,  note  20. 


92  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

Soti.    Thou  liest,  thou  shag-hair'd  ^^  villain  ! 
/  Mur.    \_Sfa!>l>ing  hi}n.'\  What,  you  egg  ! 

Young  fry  of  treachery  ! 

Son.  He  has  kill'd  me,  mother  : 

Run  away   I  pray  you  I  ^'^  \_Dies. 

\_Exit  Lady  Macduff,  crying  Murder  ! 
and  pursued  by  the  Murderers. 

Scene  III. — England.     Before  the  King's  Palace. 
Enter  Malcolm  and  Macduff. 

Mai.    Let  us  seek  out  some  desolate  shade,  and  there 
Weep  our  sad  bosoms  empty. 

Macd.  Let  us  rather 

Hold  fast  the  mortal  swortl  ;  and,  like  good  men, 
Bestride  our  down-fall'n  birthdom.'     Each  new  morn 
New  widows  howl ;  new  orphans  cry  ;  new  sorrows 
Strike  heaven  on  the  face,  that  it  resounds 
As  if  it  felt  with  Scotland,  and  yell'd  out 
Like  syllable  of  dolour. 

Mai.  What  I  believe,  Lll  wail; 

What  know,  believe  ;  and  what  I  can  redress, 
As  I  shall  find  the  time  to  friend,  I  will. 

16  Shag-hair  d  was  a  common  term  of  abuse.  In  Lodge's  Incarnate 
Devils  of  this  Age,  1596,  we  have  "  shag-heard  slave." 

i""This  scene,"  says  Coleridge,  "  dreadful  as  it  is,  is  still  a  relief,  be- 
cause a  variety,  because  domestic,  and  therefore  soothing,  as  associated 
with  the  only  real  pleasures  of  life.  The  conversation  between  Lady  Mac- 
duff and  her  child  heightens  the  pathos,  and  is  preparatory  for  the  deep 
tragedy  of  their  assassination.  Shakespeare's  fondness  for  children  is 
everywhere  shown  :  in  Prince  Arthur  m  King  yohn;  in  the  sweet  scene  in 
The  Winter's  Tale  between  Hermione  and  her  son ;  nay,  even  in  honest 
Evans'  examination  of  Mrs.  Page's  schoolboy." 

1  Birthdom,  for  the  place  of  our  birth,  our  native  land.  To  bestride  one 
that  was  down  in  battle  was  a  special  bravery  of  friendship.  —  Good  here 
means  brave.     Often  so  used.     See  vol.  xi.  page  118,  note  11. 


SCENE  III.  MACBETH.  93 

What  you  have  spoke,  it  may  be  so  perchance. 

This  tyrant,  whose  sole  name  blisters  our  tongues. 

Was  once  thought  honest :  you  have  loved  him  well ; 

He  hath  not  touch'd  you  yet.     I'm  young ;  but  something 

You  may  deserve  of  him  through  me  ;  and  wisdom 

To  offer  up  a  weak,  poor,  innocent  lamb 

T'  appease  an  angry  god.^ 

Macif.    I  am  not  treacherous. 

Mai.  But  Macbeth  is. 

A  good  and  virtuous  nature  may  recoil 
In  an  imperial  charge. ^     But  I  shall  crave  your  pardon; 
That  which  you  are,  my  thoughts  cannot  transpose  :  "* 
Angels  are  bright  still,  though  the  brightest  fell : 
Though  all  things  foul  would  wear  the  brows  of  grace. 
Yet  grace  must  still  look  so.^ 

Macd.  I've  lost  my  hopes. 

Alal.    Perchance  even  there  where  I  did  find  my  doubts.*' 
Why  in  that  rawness  left  you  wife  and  child. 
Those  precious  motives,  those  strong  knots  of  love, 
Without  leave-taking?     I  pray  you. 
Let  not  my  jealousies  be  your  dishonours. 
But  mine  own  safeties  :  you  may  be  rightly  just, 

2  "  You  may  purchase  or  secure  his  favour  by  sacrificing  me  to  his  malice  ; 
and  to  do  so  would  be  an  act  of  worldly  wisdom  on  your  part,  as  I  have 
no  power  to  punish  you  for  it." 

^  May  recede  or  fall  away  from  goodness  and  virtue  under  the  tempta- 
tion of  a  man  so  powerful  to  resent  or  to  reward. 

■*  Transpose  for  interpret  or  translate.     Not  so  elsewhere,  I  think. 

5  That  is,  though  all  bad  things  should  counterfeit  the  looks  of  goodness, 
yet  goodness  must  still  wear  its  own  looks.      Would  for  should. 

'' Macduff  claims  to  have  fled  his  home  to  avoid  the  tyrant's  blow;  yet 
he  has  left  his  wife  and  children  in  the  tyrant's  power:  this  makes  the 
Prince  distrust  his  purpose,  and  suspect  him  of  being  a  secret  agent  of 
Macbeth.  And  so,  when  he  says,  "  I've  lost  my  hopes,"  the  Prince  replies, 
"  Perhaps  the  cause  which  has  destroyed  your  hopes  is  the  very  same  that 
leads  me  to  distrust  you;  that  is,  perhaps  you  have  hoped  to  betray  me; 
which  is  just  what  I  fear." 


94  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

Whatever  I  shall  think. 

Macd.  Bleed,  bleed,  poor  country  ! 

Great  tyranny,  lay  thou  thy  basis  sure. 
For  goodness  dare  not  check  thee  !  wear  thou  thy  wrongs, 
Thy  title  is  affeer'd  ! '''  —  Fare  thee  well,  lord  : 
I  would  not  be  the  villain  that  thou  think'st 
For  the  whole  space  that's  in  the  tyrant's  grasp, 
And  the  rich  East  to  boot. 

Mai.  .  Be  not  offended : 

I  speak  not  as  in  absolute  fear  of  you. 
I  think  our  country  sinks  beneath  the  yoke  ; 
It  weeps,  it  bleeds  ;  and  each  new  day  a  gash 
Is  added  to  her  wounds  :   I  think,  withal. 
There  would  be  hands  uplifted  in  my  right ; 
And  here,  from  gracious  England,^  have  I  offer 
Of  goodly  thousands  :  but,  for  all  this. 
When  I  shall  tread  upon  the  tyrant's  head. 
Or  wear  it  on  my  sword,  yet  my  poor  country 
Shall  have  more  vices  than  it  had  before ; 
More  suffer,  and  more  sundry  ways  than  ever, 
By  him  that  shall  succeed. 

Macd.  What  should  he  be  ? 

Mai.    It  is  myself  I  mean  ;  in  whom  I  know 
All  the  particulars  of  vice  so  grafted, 
That,  when  they  shall  be  open'd,  black  Macbeth 
Will  seem  as  pure  as  snow  ;  and  the  poor  State 
Esteem  him  as  a  lamb,  being  compared 

■^  Ritson,  a  lawyer,  explains  this  rightly,  no  doubt:  "To  affeer  is  to  as- 
sess, or  reduce  to  certainty.  All  amerciaments  are,  by  Magna  Charta,  to  be 
affeered  by  lawful  men,  sworn  and  impartial.  This  is  the  ordinary  practice 
of  a  Court  Leet,  with  which  Shakespeare  seems  to  have  been  intimately 
acquainted."  —  In  "wear  thou  thy  wrongs,"  the  meaning  probably  is, 
wrongs  as  opposed  to  rights;  or,  perhaps,  place  and  \ioviovLX'=,  gained  by 
wrong. 

8  Edward  the  Confessor,  who  was  then  King  of  England. 


SCENE  III.  MACBETH.  95 

With  my  coufineless  '^  harms. 

Macd.  Not  in  the  legions 

Of  horrid  Hell  can  come  a  devil  more  damn'd 
In  evils  to  top  ^"^  Macbeth. 

Mai.  I  grant  him  bloody, 

Luxurious,  avaricious,  false,  deceitful, 
Sudden,  malicious,  smacking  of  every  sin 
That  has  a  name  :  but  there's  no  bottom,  none, 
In  my  voluptuousness  ;  your  wives,  your  daughters, 
Your  matrons,  and  your  maids,  could  not  fill  up 
The  cistern  of  my  lust ;  and  my  desire 
All  continent  ^^  impediments  would  o'erbear, 
That  did  oppose  my  will.     Better  Macbeth 
Than  such  an  one  to  reign. 

Macd.  Boundless  intemperance 

In  nature  is  a  tyranny  ;  it  hath  been 
Th'  untimely  emptying  of  the  happy  throne, 
And  fall  of  many  kings.     But  fear  not  yet 
To  take  upon  you  what  is  yours  :   you  may 
Convey  i-  your  pleasures  in  a  spacious  plenty, 
And  yet  seem  cold,  the  time  you  may  so  hoodwink. 
We've  willing  dames  enough  ;  there  cannot  be 
That  vulture  in  you,  to  devour  so  many 
As  will  to  greatness  dedicate  themselves, 
Finding  it  so  inclined. 

Mai.  With  this,  there  grows, 

In  my  most  ill-composed  affection,  such 
A  stanchless  avarice,  that,  were  I  king, 
I  should  cut  off  the  nobles  for  their  lands  ; 

'•*  Confinelcss  for  boundless,  or  numberless.     Not  so  elsewhere. 
1"  To  top  is,  in  old  English,  to  surpass.    See  vol.  xv.  page  154,  note  29. 
11  Continent  for  restraining  or  holding  in ;  one  of  its  Latin  senses. 
'2  To  convey  was  sometimes  used  for  to  manage  or  carry  through  a.  thing 
artfully  and  secretly.    See  vol.  xv.  page  26,  note  14. 


96  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

Desire  his  jewels,  and  this  other's  house  :  '^ 
And  my  more-having  would  be  as  a  sauce 
To  make  me  hunger  more ;  that  I  should  forge 
Quarrels  unjust  against  the  good  and  loyal, 
Destroying  them  for  wealth. 

Macd.  This  avarice 

Sticks  deeper,  grows  with  more  pernicious  root 
Than  summer-seeming  lust  ;'•'  and  it  hath  been 
The  sword  of  our  slain  kings  :  '^  yet  do  not  fear ; 
Scotland  hath  foisons  to  fill  up  your  will. 
Of  your  mere  own  :  all  these  are  portable. 
With  other  graces  weigh'd.^^ 

Mai.    But  I  have  none  :  the  king-becoming  graces, 
As  justice,  verity,  temperance,!"  stableness, 
Bounty,  perseverance,  mercy,  lowliness. 
Devotion,  patience,  courage,  fortitude, 
I  have  no  relish  of  them  ;  but  abound 
In  the  division  '^  of  each  several  crime. 
Acting  it  many  ways.     Nay,  had  I  power,  I  should 
Pour  the  sweet  milk  of  concord  into  Hell, 
Uproar  the  universal  peace,  confound  '^ 

13  One  7?!a>?'s  jewels  and  another  n/un's  house,  is  the  meaning. 

'^*  Summer-resemd////^-  lust;  the  passion  that  burns  awhile  like  Summer, 
and  like  Summer  passes  away ;  whereas  the  other  passion,  avarice,  has  no 
such  date,  but  grows  stronger  and  stronger  to  the  end  of  life.  So  Donne,  in 
one  of  his  poems,  has  "  a  summer-seeming'  Winter's  night." 

15  Probably  meaning  "  the  sword  that  has  slain  our  kings  "  ;  or,  perhaps, 
"  the  evil  that  has  caused  our  kings  to  be  slain  with  the  sword." 

16  Poison  is  an  old  word  for  plenty  or  abundance.  — •  Portable  is  endurable. 
—  Weighed  for  balanced,  counterpoised,  or  compensated.  —  "  Your  mere  own  " 
is  entirely  or  absolutely  your  own.     Mere  and  merely  were  often  used  thus. 

1"  Temperance  in  its  proper  Latin  sense  oi  self-restraint ;  the  opposite  of 
intemperance  as  used  a  little  before.  —  Verity  for  veracity. 

18  Division  seems  to  be  used  here  in  the  sense  of  variation.  So  it  ap- 
pears to  have  been  sometimes  used  as  a  term  in  music. 

19  A  singular  use  of  uproar  ;  but  probably  meaning  to  turmoil,  to  fill 
with  tumult  and  uproar.  —  Confound,  again,  for  destroy. 


SCENE  III.  MACBETH.  97 

All  unity  on  Earth. 

Macd.  O  Scotland,  Scotland  ! 

Ma/.    If  such  a  one  be  fit  to  govern,  speak : 
I  am  as  I  have  spoken. 

Macd.  Fit  to  govern  ! 

No,  not  to  live.  —  O  nation  miserable. 
With  an  untitled  tyrant  bloody-scepter'd, 
When  shalt  thou  see  thy  wholesome  days  again, 
Since  that  the  truest  issue  of  thy  throne 
By  his  own  interdiction  stands  accursed, 
And  does  blaspheme  his  breed  ?  —  Thy  royal  father 
Was  a  most  sainted  king :  the  queen  that  bore  thee, 
Oftener  upon  her  knees  than  on  her  feet. 
Died  every  day  she  lived.     Fare  thee  well ! 
These  evils  thou  repeat'st  upon  thyself 
Have  banish'd  me  from  Scotland.  —  O  my  breast, 
Thy  hope  ends  here  ! 

Mai.  Macduff,  this  noble  passion. 

Child  of  integrity,  hath  from  my  soul 
Wiped  the  black  scruples,  reconciled  my  thoughts 
To  thy  good  truth  and  honour.     Devilish  Macbeth 
By  many  of  these  trains  ""^  hath  sought  to  win  me 
Into  his  power ;  and  modest  wisdom  plucks  me 
From  over-credulous  haste  •  but  God  above 
Deal  between  thee  and  me  !  for  even  now 
I  put  myself  to  thy  direction,  and 
Unspeak  mine  own  detraction  ;  here  abjure 
The  taints  and  blames  I  laid  upon  myself, 
For  strangers  to  my  nature.     T  am  yet 


fVlL-Zi/ 


20  Trains  is  arts  or  devices  of  circumvention.  The  Edinburgh  Rcvi 
October,  1872,  shows  the  word  to  have  been  "  a  technical  term  both  in 
liawking  and  liunting  :  in  hawking,  for  tlie  lure  thrown  out  to  reclaim  a  fal- 
con given  to  ramble;  and  in  hunting,  for  the  bait  trailed  along  the  ground, 
and  left  exposed,  to  tempt  the  animal  from  his  lair  or  covert,  and  bring  hiin 
fairly  within  the  power  of  the  lurking  himtsman." 


98  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

Unknown  to  woman  ;  never  was  forsworn  ; 
Scarcely  have  coveted  what  was  mine  own  ; 
At  no  time  broke  my  faith  ;  would  not  betray 
The  Devil  to  his  fellow ;  -^  and  delight 
No  less  in  truth  than  life  :  my  first  false-speaking 
Was  this  upon  myself.     What  I  am  truly, 
Is  thine,  and  my  poor  country's,  to  command ; 
Whither,  indeed,  before  thy  here-approach, 
Old  Siward,  with  ten  thousand  warlike  men, 
Already  at  a  point,--  was  setting  forth  : 
Now  we'll  together  ;  and  the  chance  of  goodness 
Be  like  our  warranted  quarrel  !  ^^     Why  are  you  silent? 
Macd.    Such  welcome  and  unwelcome  things  at  once 
'Tis  hard  to  reconcile. 

Enter  a  Doctor. 

Mai.    Well ;  more  anon.  —  Comes  the  King  forth,  I  pray 
you? 

Doct.    Ay,  sir  ;  there  are  a  crew  of  wretched  souls 
That  stay  his  cure  :  their  malady  convinces  -"^ 
The  great  assay  of  art ;  but,  at  his  touch, 
Such  sanctity  hath  Heaven  given  his  hand, 
They  presently  amend. 

Mdl.  I  thank  you,  doctor.   \^Exit  Doctor. 

Macd.    What's  the  disease  he  means  ? 

Mai.  'Tis  call'd  the  evil : 


21  Fellow  {ox  friend  ox  companiott  ;  and  the  sense  is,  that,  if  he  would  not 
betray  th*"  Devil  to  his  friend,  much  less  would  he  betray  him  to  his  enemy. 
Pretty  strong ! 

22  At  a  point  is  ready,  prepared ;  or  at  a  stop  or  period  where  there  is 
nothing  further  to  be  said  or  done. 

23  "  May  the  chance  for  virtue  to  succeed  be  as  good,  as  well  warranted, 
as  our  cause  is  just."     For  this  use  of  quarrel,  see  page  13,  note  5. 

^*  Convince,  again,  in  its  old  sense  of  overcome.     See  page  38,  note  17. 


SCENE  III.  MACBETH.  99 

A  most  miraculous  work  in  this  good  King ; 

Which  often,  since  my  here-remain  in  England, 

I've  seen  him  do.     How  he  solicits  Heaven, 

Himself  best  knows  :  but  strangely-visited  people. 

All  swoln  and  ulcerous,  pitiful  to  the  eye, 

The  mere  ^^  despair  of  surgery,  he  cures  ; 

Hanging  a  golden  stamp  about  their  necks, 

Put  on  with  holy  prayers  :  and  'tis  spoken, 

To  the  succeeding  royalty  he  leaves 

The  healing  benediction.--''     With  this  strange  virtue, 

He  hath  a  heavenly  gift  of  prophecy  ; 

And  sundry  blessings  hang  about  his  throne. 

That  speak  him  full  of  grace. 

Macd.  See,  wlio  comes  here  ? 

Mai.    My  countryman  ;  but  yet  I  know  him  not. 

Enter  Ross. 

Macd.    My  ever-gentle  cousin,  welcome  hither. 
Mai.    I  know  him  now.-"  —  Good  God,  betimes  remove 
The  means  that  makes  us  strangers  ! 

Ross.  Sir,  amen. 

Macd.    Stands  Scotland  where  it  did  ? 

Ross.  Alas,  poor  country, 

25  Mere,  again,  for  absolute  or  utter.     See  page  96,  note  16. 

2C  Holinshed  has  the  following  respecting  Edward  the  Confessor :  "  As 
it  has  been  thought,  he  was  inspired  with  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  also  to 
have  the  gift  of  healing  infirmities  and  diseases.  He  used  to  help  those  that 
were  vexed  with  the  disease  commonly  called  the  king's  evil,  and  left  that 
virtue  as  it  were  a  portion  of  inheritance  unto  his  successors,  the  kings  of 
this  realm."  The  custom  of  touching  for  the  king's  evil  was  not  wholly  laid 
aside  till  the  days  of  Queen  Anne,  who  used  it  on  the  infant  Dr.  Johnson.  — 
The  golden  stamp  was  the  coin  called  angel. 

27  The  Prince  at  first  distrusts  Ross,  just  as  he  had  before  distrusted 
Macduff:  but  he  has  given  his  o.QXi'aAe.r^Q.e.  unreservedly  Xq  the  latter;  and 
now  he  has  full  faith  in  Ross  as  soon  as  he  sees  how  Macduff  regards  him. 
The  passage  is  very  delightful,  —  Means,  next  line,  is  put  for  cause. 


lOO  MACBETH.  act  iv. 

Almost  afraid  to  know  itself !     It  cannot 

Be  call'd  our  mother,  but  our  grave  :  where  nothing, 

But  who  knows  nothing,  is  once  seen  to  smile  ;  -^ 

Where  sighs,  and  groans,  and  shrieks  tliat  rend  the  air, 

Are  made,  not  mark'd  ;  where  violent  sorrow  seems 

A  modern  ecstasy  :  -^  the  dead  man's  knell 

Is  there  scarce  ask'd  for  who ;  and  good  men's  lives 

Expire  before  the  flowers  in  their  caps, 

Dying  or  e'er  they  sicken. 

Macd.  O,  relation 

Too  nice,^"  and  yet  too  true  ! 

Mai.  What's  the  new'st  grief? 

Ross.    That  of  an  hour's  age  doth  hiss  the  speaker  ;3i 
Each  minute  teems  a  new  one. 

Macd.  How  does  my  wife  ? 

Ross.    Why,  well. 

Macd.  And  all  my  children? 

Ross.  Well  too.3-^ 

Macd.    The  tyrant  has  not  batter'd  at  their  peace  ? 

Ross.    No  ;  they  were  well  at  peace  when  I  did  leave  'em. 

Macd.    Be  not  a  niggard  of  your  speech  :  how  goes't? 

Ross.    When  I  came  hither  to  transport  the  tidings. 
Which  I  have  heavily  borne,  there  ran  a  rumour 
Of  many  worthy  fellows  that  were  out ;  '^'^ 


28  Where  none  but  idiots  and  innocents  are  ever  seen  to  smile. 

29  Ecstasy  is  any  strong  disturbance  of  mind.  See  page  64,  note  5.  —  Mod- 
ern is  common,  trite,  every-day  ;  as  in  the  well-known  passage,  "  Full  of  wise 
saws  and  modern  instances." 

30  Too  vice,  because  too  elaborate,  or  having  too  much  an  air  of  study 
and  art ;  and  so  not  like  the  frank  utterance  of  deep  feeling. 

31  That  which  is  but  an  hour  old  seems  out  of  date,  and  so  causes  the 
speaker  to  be  hissed  as  tedious. 

3-  An  equivocal  phrase,  the  sense  of  which  is  explained  in  Antony  and- 
Cleopatra,  ii.  5  :  "  We  use  to  say  the  dead  are  well." 

38  Here  out  has  the  force  of  in  arms,  or  in  open  revolt.  —  What  follows 


SCENE  III.  MACBETH.  lOI 

Which  was  to  my  belief  witness'd  the  rather, 
For  that  I  saw  the  tyrant's  power  a-foot  : 
Now  is  the  time  of  help  ;  your  eye  in  Scotland 
Would  create  soldiers,  make  our  women  fight, 
To  doff-^^  there  dire  distresses. 

Mai.  Be't  their  comfort 

\Ve're  coming  thither  :  gracious  England  hath 
Lent  us  good  Sivvard  and  ten  thousand  men ; 
An  older  and  a  better  soldier  none 
That  Christendom  gives  out. 

Ross.  Would  I  could  answer 

This  comfort  with  the  like  !     But  I  have  words 
That  would  be  howl'd  out  in  the  desert  air. 
Where  hearing  should  not  latch ^^  them. 

Macd.  What  concern  they  ? 

The  general  cause?  or  is  it  a  fee-grief  3'' 
Due  to  some  single  breast? 

Ross.  No  mind  that's  honest 

But  in  it  shares  some  woe  ;  though  tiie  main  part 
Pertains  to  you  alone. 

Macd.  If  it  be  mine, 

Keep  it  not  from  me,  ([uickly  let  me  have  it. 

Ross.    Let  not  your  ears  despise  my  tongue  for  ever. 
Which  shall  possess  them  with  the  heaviest  sound 
That  ever  yet  they  heard. 

Macd.  Hum  !  I  guess  at  it. 

Ross.    Your  castle  is  surprised  ;  your  wife  and  babes 

means  that  tlie  rumour  is  confiimed  by  the  fact  that  Macbeth  has  put  hi; 
troops  in  motion.  —  For  that  is  because,  or  for  the  reason  that.     Often  so. 
3*  Doff'xi,  do  off.     So  the  Poet  has  don  for  do  on,  and  dup  for  do  up. 

35  Present  usage  would  here  transpose  should  and  would.  See  page  71, 
note  8.  —  Latch  is  an  old  North-of-England  word  for  catch.  Our  door-latch 
is  that  which  catches  the  door. 

36  A  fee-grief  '\%  2. private  or  individual  grief,  as  distinguished  from  one 
that  is  pubhc  or  common. 


I02  MACBETH.  act  iv. 

Savagely  slaughter'd  :  to  relate  the  manner, 
Were,  on  the  quarry'^"  of  these  murder'd  deer. 
To  add  the  death  of  you. 

Mai.  Merciful  Heaven  !  — 

What,  man  !  ne'er  pull  your  hat  upon  your  brows  ; 
Give  sorrow  words  :  the  grief  that  does  not  speak 
Whispers  the  o'er- fraught  heart,  and  bids  it  break. 

Macd.    My  children  too  ? 

Ross.  ■  Wife,  children,  servants,  all 

That  could  be  found. 

Macd.  And  I  must  be  from  thence  !  — 

My  wife  kill'd  too  ? 

Ross.  I've  said. 

Mai.  Be  comforted  : 

Let's  make  us  medicines  of  our  great  revenge. 
To  cure  this  deadly  grief. 

Macd.    He  has  no  chiklren.^^  —  All  my  pretty  ones? 
Did  you  say  all  ?  —  O  hell-kite  !  —  All  ? 
^Vhat,  all  my  pretty  chickens  and  their  dam 
At  one  fell  swoop  ^^  ? 

Mai.    Dispute  it  like  a  man. 

Macd.  I  shall  do  so  ; 

3'?  Quarry  was  a  hunter's  term  for  a  heap  of  dead  game,  and  was  often 
applied  as  here.  See  vol.  xiv.  page  316,  note  62.  —  In  "  murder'd  deer"  it 
may  seem  that  the  Poet  intended  a  pun ;  but  probably  not;  at  least  I  can 
hardly  think  he  meant  the  speaker  to  be  conscious  of  it  as  such. 

38  "  He  has  no  children  "  is  most  likely  said  of  Malcolm,  and  with  refer- 
ence to  what  he  has  just  spoken ;  though  I  believe  it  is  commonly  taken  as 
referring  to  Macbeth,  and  in  the  idea  that,  as  he  has  no  children,  there  can 
be  no  adequate  revenge  upon  him.  But  the  true  meaning,  I  have  no  doubt, 
is,  that  if  IVialcolm  were  a  father,  he  would  know  that  such  a  grief  cannot 
be  healed  with  the  medicine  of  revenge.  Besides,  it  would  seem  that  Mac- 
beth has  children;  else  why  should  he  strain  so  hard  to  have  the  regal  suc- 
cession "stand  in  his  posterity"  ?  And  Lady  Macbeth  "  knows  how  tender 
'tis  to  love  the  babe  that  milks  me." 

35  Swoop  was  a  term  for  the  descent  of  a  bird  of  prey  upon  his  quarry. 


SCENE  III.  MACBETH.  103 

But  I  must  also  feel  it  as  a  man  : 

I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were, 

That  were  most  precious  to  me.     Did  Heaven  look  on, 

And  would  not  take  their  part  ?     Sinful  Macduff, 

They  were  all  struck  for  thee  !  naught  ^'^  that  I  am, 

Not  for  their  own  demerits,  but  for  mine, 

Fell  slaughter  on  their  souls.     Heaven  rest  them  now  ! 

Mai.    Be  this  the  whetstone  of  your  sword  :  let  grief 
Convert  to  anger ;  blunt  not  the  heart,  enrage  it. 

Macd.    O,  I  could  play  the  woman  with  mine  eyes, 
And  braggart  with  my  tongue  !  —  But,  gentle  Heaven, 
Cut  short  all  intermission  ;  front  to  front 
Bring  Thou  this  fiend  of  Scotland  and  myself; 
Within  my  sword's  length  set  him  ;  if  he  'scape, 
Heaven  forgive  him  too  \'^^ 

Mai.  This  tune  goes  manly. 

Come,  go  we  to  the  King  ;  our  power  is  ready  ; 
Our  lack  is  nothing  but  our  leave  :  "^'^  Macbeth 
Is  ripe  for  shaking,  and  the  powers  above 
Put  on"*^  their  instruments.     Receive  what  cheer  you  may  : 
The  night  is  long  that  never  finds  the  day.  [^Exeutif. 

■*"  Naught  appears  to  have  had  the  same  meaning  as  bad,  only  stronger. 
It  should  not  be  confounded  with  nought. 

41  The  little  word  too  is  so  used  here  as  to  intensify,  in  a  very  remarkable 
manner,  the  sense  of  what  precedes.  "  Put  him  once  within  the  reach  of 
my  sword,  and  if  I  don't  kill  him,  then  I  am  as  bad  as  he,  and  may  God 
forgive  us  both !  "  I  cannot  point  to  an  instance  anywhere  of  language 
more  intensely  charged  with  meaning. 

■•2  That  is,  "  nothing  remains  to  be  done  here  but  to  take  our  leave  of  the 
King."     A  ceremony  of  parting. 

43  Instruments  is  here  tised  of  persons.  —  Put  on  means  stir  up,  instigate, 
urge  on.     Often  so.     Sec  vol.  xiv.  page  284,  note  28. 


104  MACBETH. 


ACT   V. 

Scene  I.  —  Diinsinane.     A  Room  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  a  Doctor  of  Physic  and  a  Waiting-Gentlewoman. 

Doct.  I  have  two  nights  watch'd  with  you,  but  can  per- 
ceive no  truth  in  your  report.     When  was  it  she  last  walk'd  ? 

Gent.  Since  his  Majesty  went  into  the  field,'  I  have  seen 
her  rise  from  her  bed,  throw  her  nightgown  -  upon  her,  unlock 
her  closet,  take  forth  paper,  fold  it,  write  upon't,  read  it, 
afterwards  seal  it,  and  again  return  to  bed  ;  yet  all  this  while 
in  a  most  fast  sleep. 

Doct.  A  great  perturbation  in  nature,  to  receive  at  once 
the  benefit  of  sleep,  and  do  the  effects-^  of  watching!  In 
this  slumbery  agitation,  besides  her  walking  and  other  actual 
performances,  what,  at  any  time,  have  you  heard  her  say? 

Gent.    That,  sir,  which  I  will  not  report  after  her. 

Doct.    You  may  to  me  ;  and  'tis  most  meet  you  should. 

Gent.  Neither  to  you  nor  any  one  ;  having  no  witness  to 
confirm  my  speech.     Lo  you,  here  she  comes  ! 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth,  with  a  taper. 

This  is  her  very  guise  ;  and,  upon  my  life,  fast  asleep.     Ob- 
serve her ;  stand  close.'* 

Doct.    How  came  she  by  that  light? 

1  In  tbe  preceding  scene,  Macbeth  was  said  to  have  his  "power  a-foot " 
against  "  mdny  worthy  fellows  that  were  out."  Probably  tlie  coming  of  the 
English  forces  has  induced  him  to  withdraw  his  troops  from  the  field,  and 
put  them  within  the  strong  foiiress  of  Dunsinane. 

2  That  is,  dressing-gown,  not  what  we  call  a  night-gown. 

3  Effects  here  means  acts  or  actions.     Repeatedly  so. 

*  Here,  again,  close  is  secret,  hidden,  or  in  conceahiietit. 


SCENE  I.  MACBETH.  105 

Gent.  Why,  it  stood  by  her  :  she  has  hght  by  her  con- 
tinually ;  'tis  her  command.^ 

Doct.    You  see,  her  eyes  are  open. 

Gent.    Ay,  but  their  sense  is  shut. 

Doct.  What  is  it  she  does  now?  Look,  how  she  rubs  her 
hands. 

Gent.  It  is  an  accustom'd  action  with  her,  to  seem  thus 
washing  her  hands ;  I  have  known  her  continue  in  this  a 
quarter  of  an  hour. 

Lady  M.    Yet  here's  a  spot. 

Doct.  Hark  !  she  speaks  :  I  will  set  down  what  comes 
from  her,  to  satisfy  my  remembrance  the  more  strongly. 

Lady  M.  Out,  damned  spot  !  out,  I  say  !  —  One,  two  ; 
why,  then  'tis  time  to  do't.  —  Hell  is  murky  \^  —  Fie,  my  lord, 
fie  !  a  soldier,  and  afeard  ?  What  need  we  fear  who  knows 
it,  when  none  can  call  our  power  to  account?  Yet  who 
would  have  thought  the  old  man  to  have  had  so  much  blood 
in  him  ? 

Doct.    Do  you  mark  that  ? 

Lady  M.  The  Thane  of  Fife  had  a  wife  ;  where  is  she 
now? — What,  will  these  hands  ne'er  be  clean? — No  more 
o'  that,  my  lord,  no  more  o'  that :  you  mar  all  with  this 
starting.'' 

Doct.    Go  to,  go  to  ;  you  have  known  what  you  should  not. 

5  Was  this  to  avert  the  presence  of  those  "  sightless  substances  "  once 
impiously  invoked  ?  She  seems  washing  her  hands,  and  "continues  in  this 
a  quarter  of  an  hour."  What  a  comment  on  her  former  boast,  "A  little 
water  clears  us  of  this  deed  !  "  —  BUCKNILL. 

G  Some  think  that  Lady  Macbeth  imagines  her  husband  to  utter  these 
words,  and  repeats  them  after  him  with  a  peculiar  intonation  as  in  ridicule 
or  reproach  of  his  fears.  And  so  I  suspect  it  is.  But  the  learned  Editors 
of  the  "  Clarendon  Press  Series"  think  otherwise  decidedly,  and  note  as  fol- 
lows: "  Her  recollections  of  the  deed  and  its  motives  alternate  with  recol- 
lections of  subsequent  remorse  and  dread  of  future  punishment." 

T  She  is  alluding  to  the  terrors  of  Macbeth  on  seeing  the  Ghost  of  Ban- 
quo  in  the  banquet-scene. 


I06  MACBETH.  ACT  V. 

Gent.  She  has  spoke  what  she  should  not,  I  am  sure  of 
that :   Heaven  knows  what  she  has  known. 

Lady  M.  Here's  the  smell  of  the  blood  still :  all  the  per- 
fumes of  Arabia  will  not  sweeten  this  little  hand.^  O  ! 
O!  O! 

Docf.    ^^l■lat  a  sigh  is  there  !     The  heart  is  sorely  charged. 

Gent.  I  would  not  have  such  a  heart  in  ray  bosom  for  the 
dignity  of  the  whole  body. 

Doct.    Well,  well,  well,  — 

Gent.    Pray  God  it  be,  sir.^ 

Doct.  —  this  disease  is  beyond  my  practice  :  yet  I  have 
known  those  which  have  walk'd  in  their  sleep,  who  have  died 
holily  in  their  beds. 

Lady  M.  Wash  your  hands,  put  on  your  nightgown  ;  look 
not  so  pale.  I  tell  you  yet  again,  Banquo's  buried ;  he 
cannot  come  out  on's  grave. 

Doct.    Even  so? 

Lady  M.  To  bed,  to  bed  ;  there's  knocking  at  the  gate  : 
come,  come,  come,  come,  give  me  your  hand  :  what's  done 
cannot  be  undone  :  to  bed,  to  bed,  to  bed.  \_Exit. 

8  Upon  this  passage,  Verplanck,  after  remarking  how  fertile  the  sense  of 
smell  is  in  the  milder  and  gentler  charms  of  poetry,  adds  the  following : 
"  But  the  smell  has  never  been  successfully  used  as  the  means  of  impressing 
the  imagination  with  terror,  pity,  or  any  of  the  deeper  emotions,  except  in 
this  dreadful  sleep-walking  of  the  guilty  Queen,  and  in  one  parallel  scene 
of  the  Greek  Drama,  as  wildly  terrible  as  this.  It  is  that  passage  of  the 
Agame7nnon  of  .^schylus,  where  the  captive  prophetess  Cassandra,  wrapt  in 
visionary  inspiration,  scents  first  the  smell  of  blood,  and  then  the  vapours 
of  the  tomb  breathing  from  the  palace  of  Atrides,  as  ominous  of  his  ap- 
proaching murder.  These  two  stand  alone  in  poetry;  and  Fuseli  in  his 
lectures  informs  us  that  when,  in  the  kindred  art  of  painting,  it  has  been 
attempted  to  produce  tragic  effect  through  the  medium  of  ideas  drawn  from 
'this  squeamish  sense,'  even  Raphael  and  Poussin  have  failed,  and  excited 
disgust  instead  of  terror  or  compassion." 

9  Does  the  Gentlewoman  misunderstand  the  Doctor's  "  Well,  well,  well," 
or  does  she  mean  this  as  a  further  hint  how  dreadful  the  thing  is  ?  At  all 
events,  I  have  long  been  wont  to  pause  upon  it  as  one  of  the  Poet's  quiet, 
unobtrusive  master-strokes  of  delineation. 


SCENE  II.  MACBETH.  lO/ 

Doct.    Will  she  go  now  to  bed  ? 

Gent.    Directly. 

Doct.    Foul  whisperings  are  abroad  :  unnatural  deeds 
Do  breed  unnatural  troubles :   infected  minds 
To  their  deaf  pillows  will  discharge  their  secrets  : 
More  needs  she  the  divine  than  the  physician.  ■ — 
God,  God  forgive  us  all  !  —  Look  after  her  ; 
Remove  from  her  the  means  of  all  annoyance,'" 
And  still  keep  eyes  upon  her.     So,  good  night : 
*My  mind  she  has  mated,' '  and  amazed  my  sight : 
I  think,  but  dare  not  speak. 

Gent.  Good  night,  good  doctor. 

\^Exeunt. 

Scene  II. —  The  Coitntry  near  Dunsinane. 

Enter,  zcu'th  Jnun  and  colours,  Menteith,  Caithness,  Angus, 
Lennox,  and  Soldiers. 

Ment.    The  English  power  is  near,  led  on  by  Malcolm, 
His  uncle  Siward,  and  the  good  Macduff: 

1"  That  is,  the  means  of  doing  violence  to  herself. 

^^  To  fnafe  or  amafe  is  to  astonish,  io  strike  with  dismay. —  It  has  often 
struck  me  as  a  highly-significant  fact,  that  this  scene,  which  is  more  intensely 
tragic  than  any  other  in  Shakespeare,  is  all,  except  the  closing  speech,  writ- 
ten in  prose.  Why  is  this  ?  The  question  is  at  least  not  a  little  curious. 
The  diction  is  of  the  very  plainest  and  simplest  texture  ;  yet  what  an  impres- 
sion of  sublimity  it  carries  !  In  fact,  I  suspect  the  matter  is  too  sublime,  too 
austerely  grand,  to  admit  of  any  thing  so  artificial  as  the  measured  language 
of  verse,  even  though  the  verse  were  Shakespeare's ;  and  that  the  Poet,  as 
from  an  instinct  of  genius,  saw  or  felt  that  any  attempt  to  heighten  the  effect 
by  any  such  arts  or  charms  of  delivery  would  unbrace  and  impair  it.  And 
I  think  that  the  very  diction  of  the  closing  speech,  poetical  as  it  is,  must  be  felt 
by  every  competent  reader  as  a  letting-down  to  a  lower  plane.  Is  prose, 
then,  after  all,  a  higher  form  of  speech  than  verse  ?  There  are  strains  in  the 
New  Testament  which  no  possible  arts  of  versification  could  fail  to  belittle 
and  discrown. 


I08  MACBETH.  ACT  V. 

Revenges  burn  in  them  ;  for  their  dear  causes 
Would  to  the  bleeding  and  the  grim  alarm 
Excite  the  mortified  man.i 

Ang.  Near  Birnam  wood 

Shall  we  well  meet  them  ;  that  way  are  they  coming. 

Caith.    Who  knows  if  Donalbain  be  with  his  brother? 

Leii.    For  certain,  sir,  he  is  not :   I've  a  file 
Of  all  the  gentry  ;  there  is  Siward's  son, 
And  many  unrough  ^  youths,  that  even  now 
Protest  their  first  of  manhood. 

Ment.  What  does  the  tyrant  ? 

Caith.    Great  Dunsinane  he  strongly  fortifies  : 
Some  say  he's  mad ;  others,  that  lesser  hate  him. 
Do  call  it  valiant  fury :  -^  but,  for  certain, 
He  cannot  buckle  his  distemper'd  course 
Within  the  belt  of  rule. 

Ang.  Now  does  he  feel 

His  secret  murders  sticking  on  his  hands ; 
Now  minutely  revolts  ^  upbraid  his  faith-breach  ; 
Those  he  commands  move  only  in  command. 
Nothing  in  love  :  now  does  he  feel  his  title 
Hang  loose  about  him,  like  a  giant's  robe 
Upon  a  dwarfish  thief. 

Ment.  WHio,  then,  shall  blame 

His  pester'd  senses  to  recoil  and  start,-'^ 

'  Would  rouse  and  impel  even  a  hermit  to  the  war,  to  the  signal  for  car- 
nage and  horror.  By  "  the  mortified  man  "  is  meant  a  religious  man  ;  one 
who  has  mortified  his  passions,  is  dead  to  the  world. 

2  Unrough  is  unbearded,  smooth-faced.  So  in  The  Tempest :  "  Till  new- 
born chins  be  rough  and  razorable." 

3  T'ury  in  tlie  poetical  sense ;  inspiratioii  or  heroic  rapture.  So  in  Hoby- 
noll's  lines  to  Spenser  in  praise  of  The  Faerie  Queene  :  "  Some  sacred  fury 
hath  enrich'd  thy  brains." 

4  "  Alinutely  revolts  "  are  revolts  occurring  every  minute. 

*  That  '\s,for  recoiling  and  startmg.     See  page  91,  note  15. 


SCENE  III.  MACBETH.  109 

When  all  that  is  within  him  does  condemn 
Itself  for  being  there  ? 

Caith.  Well,  march  we  on, 

To  give  obedience  where  'tis  truly  owed  : 
Meet  we  the  medicine  of  the  sickly  weal ;  ^ 
And  with  him  pour  we  in  our  country's  purge 
Each  drop  of  us. 

Len.  Or  so  much  as  it  needs, 

To  dew  the  sovereign  flower,  and  drown  the  weeds.''' 
Make  we  our  march  towards  Birnam.        \_Exeunf,  marching. 

Scene  III.  — Dunsinanc.     A  Room  in  the  Castle. 

Enter  Macbeth,  the  Doctor,  and  Attendants. 

Mach.    Bring  me  no  more  reports  ;  let  them  fly  all : 
Till  Birnam  wood  remove  to  Dunsinanc, 
I  cannot  taint  '  with  fear.     What's  the  boy  Malcolm  ? 
Was  he  not  born  of  woman  ?     The  spirits  tliat  know 
All  mortal  consequences  have  pronounced  me  thus, 
Fear  not,  Macbeth  ;  no  man  that's  born  of  woman. 
Shall  e'er  have  po7ver  upon  thee.  —  Tlien  fly,  false  thanes. 
And  mingle  with  the  English  epicures  :  ~ 
*The  mind  I  sway  by  and  the  heart  I  bear 
*Shall  never  sag^  with  doubt  nor  shake  with  fear.  — 

fi  "  The  medicine  of  the  sickly  weal  "  refers  to  Malcolm,  the  lawful  Prince, 
In  the  olden  time,  the  best  remedy  for  the  evils  of  tyranny,  or  the  greater 
evils  of  civil  war,  was  thought  to  be  a  king  with  a  clear  title. 

■^  "  Let  us  shed  so  much  of  our  blood  as  may  be  necessary  in  order  to 
seat  our  rightful  Prince  on  the  throne,  and  destroy  the  usurping  tyrant." 

1  To  taint  is  to  corrupt,  to  infect;  here  used  intransitively. 

2  Scotland  being  a  comparatively  lean  and  sterile  country,  the  Scotch 
might  naturally  plume  themselves  on  being  plain  livers  and  high  thinkers, 
and  so  speak  of  the  high-feeding  English  as  epicures. 

3  To  sag,  or  swag,  is  to  hang  down  by  its  own  weight.  "A  word,"  says 
Mr.  Furness,  "  of  every-day  use  in  America  among  mechanics  and  engi- 
neers."   And  I  can  add  thai  I  used  to  hear  it  often  among  farmers. 


no  MACBETH. 


Enter  a  Servant. 


The  Devil  damn  thee  black,  thou  cream-faced  loon  !  ^ 
Where  gott'st  thou  that  goose  look  ? 

Serv.    There  is  ten  thousand  — 

Macb.  Geese,  villain? 

Serv.  .Soldiers,  sir. 

Macb.    Go  prick  thy  face,  and  over-red  thy  fear, 
Thou  lily-liver'd  boy.^     What  soldiers,  patch  ?  ^ 
Death  of  thy  soul  !  those  linen  cheeks  of  thine 
Are  counsellors  to  fear.     What  soldiers,  whey-face  ? 

SerzK   The  English  force,  so  please  you. 

Macb.   Take  thy  face  hence.  —  \^Exit  Servant. 

Seyton  !  —  I'm  sick  at  heart, 
When  I  behold  —  Seyton,  I  say  !  —  This  push 
Will  chair  me  ever,  or  dis-seat  me  now.''' 
I  have  lived  long  enough  :  my  way  of  life 
Is  fall'n  into  the  sere,^  the  yellow  leaf; 
And  that  which  should  accompany  old  age, 
As  honour,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends, 
I  must  not  look  to  have  ;  but,  in  their  stead, 
Curses  not  loud  but  deep,  mouth-honour,  breath. 
Which  the  poor  heart  would  fain  deny,  and  dare  not.  — 
Seyton  ! 

*  This  word,  which  signifies  a  bane,  abject  fellow,  was  formerly  common 
in  England,  but  spelt  lo7vn,  and  is  justly  considered  by  Home  Tooke  as  the 
past  participle  of  to  low  or  abase.     Lout  has  the  same  origin. 

^  Lily-liver'd,  white-liver' d,  ni ilk-live?-' d,  were  all  strong  words  for  cow- 
ardly.    See  vol.  iii.  page  172,  note  15. 

6  Patch  was  often  used  as  a  term  of  contempt.  The  use  probably  grew 
from  the  r.otley  o'c patch-work  dress  worn  by  professional  Fools. 

"  "  Will  seat  me  firmly  on  the  throne,  or  else  will  unseat  me  utterly."  If 
he  whip  the  present  enemy,  his  tenure  of  the  crown  will  be  confirmed  ;  if  he 
fail  now,  there  will  be  no  more  hope  for  him. 

'^  Sere  is  dry,  withered.  Often  so  used.  —  "  Way  of  life  "  is  merely  an  en- 
larged expression  for  life.  Macbeth's  complaint  is,  that  he  is  now  growing 
old,  and  that  lie  cannot  expect  to  have  the  natural  comforts  of  old  age. 


MACBETH.  I  r  I 


Enter  Seyton. 


Seyt.   What  is  your  gracious  pleasure  ? 

Macb.  What  news  more  ? 

Seyt.   All  is  confirm'd,  my  lord,  which  was  reported. 

Macb.    I'll  fight,  till  fi"om  my  bones  my  flesh  be  hack'd. 
Give  me  my  armour. 

Seyt.  'Tis  not  needed  yet. 

Macb.    I'll  put  it  on. 
Send  out  more  horses,  skirr^  the  country  round  : 
Hang  those  that  talk  of  fear.  —  Give  me  mine  armour.  — 
How  does  your  patient,  doctor? 

Doct.  Not  so  sick,  my  lord. 

As  she  is  troubled  with  thick-coming  fancies. 
That  keep  her  from  her  rest. 

Macb.  Cure  her  of  that : 

Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseased ; 
Pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow ; 
Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain  ; 
And  with  some  sweet-obTivious  antidote 
Cleanse  the  stuff'd  bosom  of  that  perilous  grief 
Which  weighs  upon  the  heart? 

Doct.  Therein  the  patient 

Must  minister  to  himself. 

Macb.    Throw  physic  to  the  dogs,  I'll  none  of  it.  — ■ 
Come,  put  mine  armour  on  ;  give  me  my  staff.^"  — • 
Seyton,  send  out.  —  Doctor,  the  thanes  fly  from  me.  — 
Come,  sir,  dispatch.  —  If  thou  couldst,  doctor,  cast 
The  water  of  my  land,^'  find  her  disease, 

9  Skirr  is  an  old  word  for  scour,  and  has  the  sense  of  moving  siviftly.  So 
in  King  Henry  V.,  iv.  7  :  "  And  make  them  skirr  away,  as  swift  as  stones 
enforced  from  the  old  Assyrian  slings." 

1"  Staff  probably  means  his  symbol  of  military  command  ;  general's 
baton.     Or  it  may  nu-an  a  fighting-tool ;  his  lance. 

11  Probably  alluding  to  the  old  custom  of  medical  diagnosis  by  inspect- 


I  12  MACBETH.  act  v. 

And  purge  it  to  a  sound  and  pristine  health, 

I  would  applaud  thee  to  the  very  echo, 

That  should  applaud  again.  —  Pull't  off.  I  say.i^  — 

What  rhubarb,  senna,  or  what  purgative  drug. 

Would  scour  these  English  hence  ?     Hear'st  thou  of  them  ? 

Doct.    Ay,  my  good  lord  ;  your  royal  preparation 
Makes  us  hear  something. 

Macb.  Bring  it  ^^  after  me.  — 

*I  will  not  be  afraid  of  death  and  bane, 
*Till  Birnam  forest  come  to  Dunsinane. 

\_Exeunt  all  but  Doctor. 

*Doct.    Were  I  from  Dunsinane  away  and  clear, 
*Profit  again  should  hardly  draw  me  here.  \_Exit. 

Scene  IV.  —  Cotmtry  near  Dunsinane :  a  JVooil  in  inew. 

Enter,  with  drum  and  colours,  Malcolm,  old  Siward  and 
youfig  Siward,  Macduff,  Menteith,  Caithness,  Angus, 
Lennox,  Ross,  and  Soldiers,  matching. 

Mai.    Cousins,  I  hope  the  da}s  are  near  at  hand 
That  chambers  will  be  safe.' 

Ment.  We  doubt  it  nothing. 

Siw.    What  wood  is  this  before  us? 

Ment.  The  wood  of  Birnam. 

Mai.    Let  every  soldier  hew  him  down  a  bough. 
And  bear't  before  him  :  thereby  shall  we  shadow 
The  numbers  of  our  host,  and  make  discovery 

ing  or  caUhig  the  patient's  water.     So  that  the  language  is  equivalent  to 
"  diagnosticate  all  the  people  of  Scotland." 

12  Spoken  to  the  armourer,  who  has  got  a  piece  of  the  armour  on  wrong. 

13  Referring  to  the  piece  which  he  has  just  ordered  the  armourer  to  pull  off. 
1  Referring,  probably,  to  the  spies  and  informers  whom  Macbeth  keeps 

in  the  noblemen's  houses,  prowling  about  their  private  chambers,  and  list- 
ening at  their  key-holes.     See  page  76,  note  25. 


SCENE  IV.  MACBETH.  I  13 

Err  in  report  of  us. 

Soldiers.  It  shall  be  done. 

Siw.    We  learn  no  other  but  the  confident  tyrant 
Keeps  still  in  Dunsinane,  and  will  endure  ^ 

Our  sitting  down  before't. 

Mai.  'Tis  his  main  hope  : 

For,  where  there  is  advantage  to  be  ta'en, 
Both  more  and  less  ~  have  given  him  the  revolt ; 
And  none  serve  with  him  but  constrained  things, 
Whose  hearts  are  absent  too. 

Macd.  Let  our  just  censures 

Attend  the  true  event, ^  and  put  we  on 
Industrious  soldiership. 

*^/Vt:/.  The  time  approaches 

*That  will  with  due  decision  make  us  know 
*What  we  shall  say  we  have,  and  what  we  owe.^ 
*Thoughts  speculative  their  unsure  hopes  relate  ; 
*But  certain  issue  strokes  must  arbitrate  :  ^ 
*Towards  which  advance  the  war.*  \_Exeiint,  marcJiing. 

2  More  and  less  is  the  old  phrase  for  great  and  small,  or  high  and  low. 

8  Another  proleptical  form  of  speech  ;  the  meaning  being,  "  Let  our  judg- 
ments wait  for  the  actual  result,  the  issue  of  the  contest,  ///  order  that  they 
may  be  just."     See  page  72,  note  11. 

*  Evidently  meaning,  "  When  we  have  a  king  that  will  rule  by  law  we 
shall  know  both  our  rights  and  our  duties."  I  make  this  note  simply  be- 
cause some  have  vented  an  unworthy  sneer,  not  indeed  at  the  Poet,  but  at 
the  brave  old  warrior  for  speaking  thus. 

5  Referring,  apparently,  to  Malcolm's  last  speech,  which  proceeds  some- 
what upon  conjecture  and  seeming  likelihood.  The  old  war-horse  means, 
"  There's  no  use  in  talking  about  it,  and  eating  the  air  of  expectation  ;  noth- 
ing but  plain  old-fashioned  fighting  will  decide  the  matter." 


I  14  MACBETH.  ACT  v. 

Scene  V.  —  Dunsinane .      Within  the  Castle. 
Enter,  7mth  drum  </;/^/^<7/(?//;-i',  Macbeth,  Seyton,  rt;;/^/ Soldiers. 

Macb.    Hang  out  our  banners  on  the  outward  walls  ; 
The  cry  is  still,  They  come.    Our  castle's  strength 
Will  laugh  a  siege  to  scorn  :   here  let  them  lie 
Till  famine  and  the  ague  eat  them  up  : 
Were  they  not  forced  1  with  those  that  should  be  ours, 
We  might  have  met  them  dareful,  beard  to  beard. 
And  beat  them  backward  home.  —  \_A  cry  of  7oomtn  tuithin. 

What  is  that  noise  ? 

Seyt.    It  is  the  cry  of  women,  my  good  lord.  \_Exit. 

Macb.    I  have  almost  forgot  the  taste  of  fears  : 
The  time  has  been,  my  senses  would  have  quail'd 
To  hear  a  night-shriek,  and  my  fell  ~  of  hair 
Would  at  a  dismal  treatise  ^  rouse  and  stir 
As  life  were  in't :   I  have  supp'd  full  with  horrors ; 
Direness,  familiar  to  my  slaughterous  thoughts, 
Cannot  once  start  me.  — 

Re-enter  Seyton. 

Wherefore  was  that  cry? 
Seyt.    The  Queen,  my  lord,  is  dead. 
Macb.    She  should  have  died  hereafter ; 
There  would  have  been  a  time  for  such  a  word.'^ 

1  Forced  is  strengthened,  reinforced.     A  frequent  usage. 

2  Fell  is  hairy  scalp,  ov  any  skin  covered  with  hair  or  wool.  —  To  hear  is 
still  another  gerundial  infinitive  ;  at  hearing. 

3  Dismrl  treatise  probably  means  a  tale  of  cruelty,  or  of  suffering. 

4  Another  instance  of  the  indiscriminate  use  of  should  and  would ;  and 
the  meaning  is,  "  If  she  had  not  died  now,  she  would  have  died  hereafter ; 
the  time  would  have  come  when  such  a  word  must  be  spoken."  The  ex- 
planation of  the  whole  passage  comes  to  me  well  worded  from  Mr.  Joseph 
Crosby;  though  the  substance  of  it  was  put  forth  many  years  ago  by  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Arrowsmith  :  "  '  I  used  to  be  frightened  out  of  my  senses  at  almost 


SCENE  V.  MACBETH.  I  1 5 

To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 

Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day, 

To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time ;  ^ 

And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 

The  way  to  dusty  death.     Out,  out,  brief  candle  I 

Life's  but  a  walking  shadow  ;  a  poor  player, 

That  struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage, 

And  then  is  heard  no  more  :  it  is  a  tale 

Told  by  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury, 

Signifying  nothing.^  — 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Thou  comest  to  use  thy  tongue  ;  thy  story  quickly. 

Mess.    Gracious  my  lord, 
I  should  report  that  which  I'd  say  I  saw. 
But  know  not  how  to  do't. 

Macb.  Well,  say  it,  sir. 

Aless.    As  I  did  stand  my  watch  upon  the  hill, 
I  look'd  toward  Birnam,  and  anon,  methought. 
The  wood  began  to  move. 

Macb.  Liar  and  slave  ! 

any  thing  :  now  nothing  — •  not  even  the  most  terrible  calamities  —  can  make 
any  impression  upon  me.  What  must  be,  I  know  ^uill  be.'  '  The  Queen, 
my  lord,  is  dead."  '  Well,  be  it  so  :  had  she  not  died  now,  she  would  have 
had  to  die  some  time.  So  creeps  along  every  thing  in  the  world,  with  petty 
pace  from  day  to  day :  every  to-morrow  has  its  yesterday,  and  every  yester- 
day its  to-morrow  ;  and  thus  men  go  on  from  yesterdays  to  to-morrows,  like 
automatic  fools,  until  they  drop  into  the  dusty  grave.'  " 

5  "  The  last  syllable  of  recorded  time  "  means  simply  the  last  syllable  of 
the  record  of  time.  Such  proleptical  forms  of  speech  are  uncommonly  fre- 
quent in  this  play. 

6  Alas  for  Macbeth  !  Now  all  is  inward  with  him  ;  he  has  no  more  pru- 
dential prospective  reasonings.  His  wife,  the  only  being  who  could  have 
had  any  seat  in  his  affections,  dies:  he  puts  on  despondency,  the  final 
heart-armour  of  the  wretched,  and  would  fain  think  every  thing  shadowy 
and  unsubstantial ;  as  indeed  all  things  are  to  those  who  cannot  regard  them 
as  symbols  of  goodness. —  COLERIDGE. 


Il6  MACBETH.  ACT  V. 

Mess.    Let  me  endure  your  wrath,  ift  be  not  so : 
Within  this  three  mile  may  you  see  it  coming ; 
I  say,  a  moving  grove. 

Macb.  If  thou  speak'st  false, 

Upon  the  next  tree  shalt  thou  hang  alive, 
Till  famine  cling  "  thee  :  if  thy  speech  be  sooth, 
I  care  not  if  thou  dost  for  me  as  much.  — 
I  pall  "^  in  resolution  ;  and  begin 
To  doubt  th'  equivocation  of  the  fiend, 
That  lies  like  truth  :  Fear  not,  till  Birnam  tuood 
Do  eome  to  Diinsinane  ;  and  now  a  wood 
Comes  toward  Dunsinane.  —  Arm,  arm,  and  out  ! 
*If  this  which  he  avouches  does  appear, 
*There  is  nor  flying  hence  nor  tarrying  here. 
*I  'gin  to  be  a- weary  of  the  Sun, 

*And  wish  th'  estate  o'  the  world  were  now  undone.  — 
Ring  the  alarum-bell  !  —  Blow,  wind  !  come,  wrack  ! 
At  least  we'll  die  with  harness  ^  on  our  back.  \^Exeunt. 

Scene  VI.  —  The  Same.     A  Plain  before  the  Castle. 

Enter,  with  drum  and  colours,  Malcolm,  old  Siward,  Mac- 
duff, ^c.,  and  their  Army  with  boughs. 

Mai.    Now  near  enough  ;  your  leafy  screens  throw  down, 
And  show  like  those  you  are. — -You,  worthy  uncle. 
Shall,  with  my  cousin,  your  right-noble  son. 
Lead  our  first  battle  :  i  worthy  Macduff  and  we 

■^  To  cl'ng,  in  the  northern  counties,  signifies  to  shrivel,  wither,  or  dry  up. 
Clung-wood  is  wood  of  which  the  sap  is  entirely  dried  or  spent. 

8  To  pall  is  to  droop,  to  fall  away,  to  languish,  to  grow  faint.  See  vol. 
xiv.  page  300,  note  4. 

3  Harness  for  arjnour.     Repeatedly  so.     See  vol.  xi.  page  86,  note  20. 

1  Battle  was  often  put  for  army  in  battle-array  :  here  it  is  put,  apparently, 
for  Apart  of  such  an  army;  the  van. 


SCENE  vn.  MACBETH.  I  1 7 

Shall  take  upon's  what  else  remains  to  do, 
According  to  our  order. 

Siw.  Fare  you  well. 

Do  we  but  find  the  tyrant's  power  to-night, 
Let  us  be  beaten,  if  we  cannot  fight. 

Macd.    Make    all    our    trumpets    speak ;    give    them    all 
breath, 
Those  clamorous  harbingers  of  blood  and  death.    \_Exeunf. 


Scene  VII.  —  The  Same.     Another  Part  of  the  Plain. 

■  A/arums.     Enter  Macbeth. 

Much.    They've  tied  me  to  a  stake  ;   I  cannot  fly. 
But,  bear-like,  I  must  fight  the  course.'-^     What's  he 
That  was  not  born  of  woman  ?     Such  a  one 
Am  I  to  fear,  or  none. 

Enter  young  Siward. 

Yo.  Skv.    What  is  thy  name  ? 

Macb.  Thou 'It  be  afraid  to  hear  it. 

Yo.  Snv.    No  ;  though  thou  call'st  thyself  a  hotter  name 
Than  any  is  in  Hell. 

Macij.  My  name's  Macbeth. 

Yo.  .Siw.    The  Devil  himself  could  not  pronounce  a  title 
More  hateful  to  mine  ear. 

Macb.  No,  nor  more  fearful. 

Yo.  .Siw.    Thou  liest,  abhorred  tyrant;  with  my  sword 
I'll  prove  the  lie  thou  speak'st. 

\_Tliey  fight,  and  young  Siward  is  slain. 

Macb.  Thou  wast  Ijorn  of  woman. 

2  This  was  a  phrase  of  bear-baiting,  where  the  bear  was  tied  to  a  stal<e, 
and  then  the  dogs  set  upon  him  :  the  poor  bear  could  not  run,  and  so  had 
no  way  but  to  fight  it  out.    See  vol.  xiv.  page  88,  note  10. 


1 1 8  MACBETH.  ACT  V. 

But  swords  I  smile  at,  weapons  laugh  to  scorn, 

Brandish'd  by  man  that's  of  a  woman  born.  \_Exif. 

Alarums.     Enter  Macduff. 

Macd.    That  way  the  noise  is.  —  Tyrant,  show  thy  face  ! 
If  thou  be'st  slain  and  with  no  stroke  of  mine, 
My  wife  and  children's  ghosts  will  haunt  me  still. 
I  cannot  strike  at  wretched  kerns,  whose  arms 
Are  hired  to  bear  their  staves  :   either  thou,  Macbeth, 
Or  else  my  sword,  with  an  unbatter'd  edge, 
I  sheathe  again  undeeded.     There  thou  shouldst  be ; 
By  this  great  clatter,  one  of  greatest  note 
Seems  bruited. ^  —  Let  me  find  him,  fortune  ! 
And  more  I  beg  not.  \^Exit.     Alarums. 

E)itcr  Malcolm  and  old  Siward. 

Siw.    This  way,  my  lord.     The  castle's  gently  render'd  : 
The  tyrant's  people  on  both  sides  do  fight ; 
The  noble  thanes  do  bravely  in  the  war ; 
The  day  almost  itself  professes  yours, 
And  little  is  to  do. 

Mai.  We've  met  with  foes 

That  strike  beside  us.'' 

Siw.  Enter,  sir,  the  castle. 

\_Ext'unt.     Alarums. 

3  Bruited  is  reported,  noised  abroad.  See  voL  xi.  page  158,  note  13.  — 
Of  course,  wherever  Macbeth  goes,  he  has  a  strong  escort  attending  him  ; 
and  the  clattering  of  so  many  feet  and  swords  would  indicate  liis  approach. 

*"Foes  who  take  pains  not  to  hit  us;  who  are  only  shamming  fight 
against  us,  while  their  hearts  are  on  our  side." 


SCENE  VIII.  MACBETH.  I  I9 

Scene  VIII.  —  The  Same.     Another  Part  of  the  Plain. 

Enter  Macbeth. 

Macb.    Why  should  I  play  the  Roman  fool,  and  die 
On  mine  own  sword  ?  ^  whiles  I  see  lives,  the  gashes 
Do  better  upon  them.- 

Enter  Macduff. 

Macd.  Turn,  hell-hound,  turn  ! 

Macb.    Of  all  men  else  I  have  avoided  thee  : 
But  get  thee  back  ;  my  soul  is  too  mucli  charged   * 
With  blood  of  thine  already. 

Macd.  1  have  no  words, 

My  voice  is  in  my  sword ;  thou  bloodier  villain 
Than  terms  can  give  thee  out  !  \_They Jight. 

Macb.  Thou  losest  labour  : 

As  easy  mayst  thou  the  intrenchant  ^  air 
With  thy  keen  sword  impress,  as  make  me  bleed  : 
Let  fall  thy  blade  on  vulnerable  crests  ; 
I  bear  a  charmed  life,^  which  must  not  yield 
To  one  of  woman  born. 

Macd.  Despair  thy  cliarm  ; 

And  let  the  angel  whom  thou  still  Jiast  served 
Tell  thee,  Macduff  was  from  his  mother's  womb 
Untimely  ripp'd. 

Macb.    Accursed  be  that  tongue  that  tells  me  so, 
For  it  hath  cow'd  my  better  part  of  man  ! 

1  Probably  alluding  either  to  tlie  suicide  of  Cato  at  Utica  or  that  of  Bru- 
tus at  Philippi;  perhaps  to  both. 

2  "  While  I  see  living  foes,  it  is  better  to  kill  them  than  myself." 

8  To  trench  is  to  cut,  to  wound ,  so  that  intrenchant  is  invulnerable ;  lit- 
erally, uncuttable. 

■•  "  A  charmed  life  "  is  a  life  secured  against  human  assault  by  "  the  might 
of  magic  spells."     See  vol.  xiii.  page  131,  note  19. 


I20  MACBETH.  act  V 

And  be  these  juggling  fiends  no  more  believed, 

That  palter  ^  with  us  in  a  double  sense  ; 

That  keep  the  word  of  promise  to  our  ear, 

And  break  it  to  our  hope  !  —  I'll  not  fight  with  thee. 

Macd.    Then  yield  thee,  coward, 
And  live  to  be  the  show  and  gaze  o'  the  time  : 
We'll  have  thee,  as  our  rarer  monsters  are. 
Painted  upon  a  pole,  and  underwrit 
Hej-e  ffiay  you  see  the  tyrant.^ 

Macb.  I  will  not  yield, 

To  kiss  the  ground  before  young  Malcolm's  feet, 
And  to  be* baited'^  with  the  rabble's  curse. 
Though  Birnam  wood  be  come  to  Dunsinane, 
And  thou  opposed,  being  of  no  woman  born, 
Yet  I  will  try  the  last :   *before  my  body 
*I  throw  my  warlike  shield*  :  lay  on,  Macduff; 
And  damn'd  be  he  that  first  cries  Hold,  enouglil* 

[  Excu  n  t,  figh  ting. 

Retreat.  Flourish.  Enter  luith  Drum  and  Colours,  Mal- 
colm, old  SiWARD,  Ross,  Lennox,  Angus,  Caithness, 
Menteith,  and  Soldiers. 

Mai.    I  would  the  friends  we  miss  were  safe  arrived. 
Siw.    Some  must  go  off:*^  and  yet,  by  these  I  see, 

^  To  palter  is  to  shiijfle  or  equivocate,  to  haggle  or  dodge.    Often  so. 

6  Alluding  to  the  Barnum  practice  of  the  time;  which  was,  to  get  some 
strange  animal  for  a  show,  and  then  hang  out  an  exaggerated  painting  of 
the  beast  to  attract  customers. 

7  Baited  is  barked  at  or  ivorried,  as  dogs  worried  a  chained  bear. 

^  To  cry  hold!  when  persons  were  fighting,  was  an  authoritative  way  of 
separating  them,  according  to  the  old  military  laws.  This  is  shown  by  a 
passage  in  Bellay's  Instructions  for  the  Wars,  declaring  it  to  be  a  capital 
offence,  "  Whosoever  shall  strike  stroke  at  his  adversary,  either  in  the  heat 
or  otherwise,  if  a  third  do  cry  hold,  to  the  intent  to  part  them."  This  illus- 
trates the  passage  in  i.  5,  of  this  play:  "Nor  Heaven  peep  through  the 
blanket  of  the  dark  to  cry  Hold!  hold!" 

0  The  meaning  is,  that  in  such  a  contest  some  must  be  killed  of  course. 


SCENE  VIII.  MACBETH.  121 

So  great  a  day  as  this  is  cheaply  bought. 

Mai.    Macduff  is  missing,  and  your  noble  son. 

Ross.    Your  son,  my  lord,  has  paid  a  soldier's  debt : 
He  only  lived  but  till  he  was  a  man ; 
The  which  no  sooner  had  his  prowess  confirm 'd 
In  the  unshrinking  station  where  he  fought, "* 
But  like  a  man  he  died. 

Siw.  Then  he  is  dead  ? 

Ross.   Ay,  and  brought  off  the  field  :  your  cause  of  sorrow 
Must  not  be  measured  by  his  worth,  for  then 
It  hath  no  end. 

Shv.  Had  he  his  hurts  before? 

Ross.    Ay,  on  the  front. 

Shv.  Why,  then  God's  soldier  be  he  ! 

Had  I  as  many  sons  as  I  have  hairs, 
I  would  not  wish  them  to  a  fairer  death  : 
And  so  his  knell  is  knoll'd. 

Mai.  He's  worth  more  sorrow, 

And  that  I'll  spend  for  him. 

Skv.  He's  worth  no  more  : 

They  say  he  parted  well,  and  paid  his  score  :  '^ 
And  so  God  b'  wi'  him  !     Here  comes  newer  comfort. 

Re-enter  Macduff,  with  Macbeth's  ]icad  on  a  pole. 


10  That  is,  i}<\z  place  where  he  fought  without  shrinking. 

U  To  part  and  to  depart  were  used  indiscritninately.  The  allusion  is  to 
a  traveller  taking  leave  of  an  inn.  —  Score  is  account  or  bill.  Tavern  ac- 
counts were  commonly  kept  either  by  marking  down  the  items  with  chalk 
on  a  board,  or  by  notches  cut,  scored,  in  a  stick.  —  This  little  episode  of  old 
Siward  and  his  son  is  taken  from  Holinshed  :  "  It  is  recorded  also,  that  in 
the  foresaid  battell,  in  which  earle  Siward  vanquished  the  Scots,  one  of 
Siwards  sonnes  chanced  to  be  slaine,  whereof  although  the  father  had  good 
cause  to  be  sorrowfull,  yet  when  he  heard  that  he  died  of  a  wound  which  he 
had  receiued  in  fighting  stoutlie  in  the  forepart  of  his  bodie,  and  that  with 
his  face  towards  the  encmie,  he  greatlie  rejoised  thereat,  to  heare  that  he 
died  so  manfullie." 


122  MACBETH.  act  v. 

Macd.    Hail,  King  !  for  so  thou  art :  behold,  where  stands 
Th'  usurper's  cursed  head  :  the  time  is  free. 
I  see  thee  compass'd  with  thy  kingdom's  pearl/'-^ 
That  speak  my  salutation  in  their  minds  ; 
Whose  voices  I  desire  aloud  with  mine  : 
Hail,  King  of  Scotland  ! 

All.  Hail,  King  of  Scotland  !    \_Flourish. 

*Mal.    We  shall  not  spend  a  large  expense  of  time 
*Before  we  reckon  with  your  several  loves, 
*And  make  us  even  with  you.     My  thanes  and  kinsmen, 
*  Henceforth  be  earls,  the  first  that  ever  Scotland 
*In  such  an  honour  named. ^-^     What's  more  to  do, 
*Which  would  be  planted  newly  with  the  time,  — 
*As  calling  home  our  exiled  friends  abroad,^'* 
*That  fled  the  snares  of  watchful  tyranny  ; 
*Producing  forth  the  cruel  ministers 
*0f  this  dead  butcher,  and  his  fiend-like  Queen, 
*Who,  as  'tis  thought,  by  self  and  violent  hands 
*Took  off  her  life ;  —  this,  and  what  needful  else 
*That  calls  upon  us,  by  the  grace  of  Grace, 
*We  will  perform  in  measure,  time,  and  place  : 
*So,  thanks  to  all  at  once  and  to  each  one, 
*Whom  we  invite  to  see  us  crown'd  at  Scone. 

\_Floiirish.     Exeufit. 

12  Pearl  is  here  a  collective  noun,  and  equivalent  to  jewels.  The  meta- 
phor is  of  a  string  of  pearls  encircling  the  neck,  or  the  head,  of  royalty. 
Just  the  right  thing  to  be  said  of  the  brave  men  who  have  vindicated  Mal- 
colm's title,  and  rid  their  country  of  the  butchering  tyrant.  Milton  has  a 
like  use  oi pearl :  "  But  this  is  got  by  casting /^a//  to  hogs." 

13  Malco'm,  immediately  after  his  coronation,  called  a  parliament  at  For- 
fair ;  in  the  which  he  rewarded  them  with  lands  and  livings  that  had  assisted 
him  against  Macbeth.  Manie  of  them  that  were  before  thanes  were  at  this 
time  made  earles ;  as  Fife,  Menteith,  Atholl,  Levenox,  Murrey,  Caithness, 
Rosse,  and  Angus.  —  Holinshed. 

H  "  Friends  exiled  abroad  "  is  the  natural  order  of  the  words. 


SHAKESPEARE  AND  MIDDLETON. 


EVERY  une  ripely  conversant  with  Shakespeare's  manner,  and  tliur- 
oughly  at  home  in  his  idiom  of  thought  and  language,  must,  I  think, 
have  at  least  a  dim  sense,  if  not  a  clear  perception,  of  disharmony  and 
incongruity  in  certam  portions  of  this  tragedy.  Many  years  ago  I  had 
something  of  this  feeling  ;  but,  as  the  whole  play  was  then  universally 
ascribed  to  Shakespeare,  I  did  not  dare  to  trust  such  feeling  :  I  sought, 
and  of  co-urse  easily  found,  refuge  from  it  in  the  thought,  that  Shake- 
speare, even  in  his  wisest  days,  was  not  wise  at  all  hours,  and  that  in 
his  highest  hours  he  had  occasional  moments  of  nodding,  as  Homer  is 
said  to  have  ;  and  that,  in  his  serene  carelessness,  or  perhaps  in  his 
calm  assurance,  of  fame,  both  his  genius  and  his  taste  indulged  them- 
selves now  and  then  in  rather  emphatic  lapses 

The  feeling  in  question  was  first  moved  by  the  wide  contrast  between 
what  comes  from  the  Witches,  in  Act  i.,  scene  3,  before  the  entrance  of 
Macbeth  and  Banquo,  and  what  comes  from  the  Weird  Sisters  after 
that  entrance.  The  difference  is  not  merely  one  of  degree,  but  of 
kind  ;  a  difference  as  broad  and  as  pronounced  as  that  between  a 
tadpole  and  an  eagle.  In  the  former  case,  they  are  neither  more  nor 
less  than  the  coarse,  foul  old-woman  witches  of  ancient  superstition  ; 
creatures  actuated  by  the  worst  and  lowest  human  motives  and  passions, 
envy,  malice,  and  spite  ;  killing  swine,  sailing  in  sieves,  assuming  the 
forms  of  rats  without  tails,  dealing  in  the  thumbs  of  wrecked  pilots, 
and  riding  through  the  air  on  broomsticks.  Their  aspect  and  behaviour 
are  in  the  last  degree  commonplace  and  vulgar  ;  there  is  nothing  even 
respectable  about  them  ;  all  is  of  the  earth  earthy.  In  the  latter  case, 
they  are  mysterious  and  supernatural  beings,  unearthly  and  terrible, 
such  as  we  may  well  conceive  "  the  Goddesses  of  Destiny "  to  be  : 
their  very  aspect  at  once  strikes  the  beholder  'with  dread  and  awe  : 
they  do  not  come  and  go,  they  appear  and  vanish  ;  Inibbling  up,  as  it 
were,  through  the  ground  from  the  lower  world,  in  something  of  a 
human  shape,  to  breathe  the  contagion  of  Hell  upon  a  soul  which  they 
know  to  be  secretly  in  sympathy  with  them,  and  inwardly  attempered 


1 24  MACBETH, 

to  their  purposes.  Surely  every  one  who  reads  that  scene,  with  his 
thoughts  about  him,  must  catch  at  least  some  gHmpses  of  this  wide 
discrepancy  :  still  I  felt  bound  to  presume  that  the  Poet's  great  and 
wonderful  art  had  some  way  of  reconciling  it. 

Again,  in  the  second  scene  of  Act  i.,  it  was  long  ago  apparent,  that 
either  Shakespeare  assumed  a  style  not  properly  his  own,  or  else  that 
another  hand  than  Shakespeare's  held  the  pen.  But,  for  the  peculiarity 
here  displayed,  Coleridge  gave  a  plausible,  if  not  a  sufficient  reason. 
"  The  style,"  says  he,  "  and  rhythm  of  the  Captain's  speeches  in  the 
second  scene  should  be  illustrated  by  reference  to  the  interlude  in 
Hamlet,  in  which  the  epic  is  substituted  for  the  tragic,  in  order  to  make 
the  latter  be  felt  as  the  real-life  diction."  In  this  explanation  of  the 
matter  I  rested,  as  perhaps  some  others  did.  I5ut  surely  the  two  cases 
are  not  parallel  at  all  :  there  is  no  such  occasion  here  for  a  change  of 
style  as  there  is  in  Hamlet :  there,  it  is  a  play  within  a  play  ;  here, 
nothing  of  the  kind. 

At  length,  in  the  year  1869,  Mr.  W.  G.  Clark  and  Mr.  W.  A.  Wright, 
the  learned  Editors  of  the  "Clarendon  Press  Series,"  led  off  in  a  new 
solution  of  the  difficulty.  I  propose,  first,  to  reproduce,  partly  in  their 
own  words,  so  much  of  their  theory,  and  of  their  arguments  in  support 
thereof,  as  I  concur  in;  my  limited  space  not  well  affording  room  for 
the  whole  of  it  Before  doing  this,  however,  I  must  advert  briefly  to 
another  matter. 

A  peculiar  relation  has  long  been  known  to  sulisist  between  Shake- 
speare's Macbeth  and  The  Witch  of  Thomas  iMiddleton.  That  relation 
was  discovered  in  manner  as  follows.  In  the  original  copy  oi  Macbeth, 
Act  iii,  scene  5,  we  have  the  stage-direction,  "  Music,  and  a  Song"; 
and  then,  two  lines  after,  another  stage-diiection,  "  Sing  within.  Come 
away,  come  away,  ir^c."  Again,  in  Act  iv.,  scene  i,  we  have  the  stage- 
direction,  "  Afitsic,  and  a  Song.  Black  Spirits,  &=c."  Thus  in  both 
places  the  songs  are  merely  indicated,  not  printed.—  In  1674,  Sir  William 
Davenant  published  an  altered  version  of  the  tragedy,  giving  both  songs 
in  full,  but  making  no  sign  as  to  the  source  of  them  ;  so  that  they  were 
supposed  to  be  his  own  composition.  So  the  matter  stood  till  1779, 
when  the  manuscript  of  Middleton's  play.  The  IVitch,  was  discovered 
by  George  Steevens  ;  and  there  both  songs  were  found,  in  nearly  the 
same  words  as  Davenant  had  given  them.  From  this  it  was  easily 
gathered  why  the  songs  were  not  printed  at  length  in  the  foho  of  1623. 
Macbeth  was  of  course  there  printed  from  a  playhouse  manuscript ; 
and  those  songs  were  presumed  to  be  so  well  known  to  the  actors  of 


SHAKESPEARE  AND  MIDDLETON.        1 25 

the  play  in  the  form  it  then  had,  that  a  bare  indication  of  them  was 
enough. 

The  date  of  Middleton's  play  has  not  been  ascertained,  nor  have  we 
any  means  of  ascertaining  it.  The  forecited  particulars  infer,  of  course, 
that  The  Witch  must  have  been  written  some  time  before  Macbeth 
acquired  the  form  in  which  it  has  come  down  to  us.  On  the  other 
hand,  besides  the  particulars  specified  above,  Clark  and  Wright  point 
out  various  resemblances  both  of  thought  and  language  in  the  two 
plays,  —  resemblances  much  too  close  and  literal  to  be  merely  acci- 
dental. So  that  one  of  the  authors  must  have  borrowed  from  the 
other.  Now,  several  of  these  resemblances  occur  in  those  parts  of  the 
tragedy  which  are  unquestionably  Shakespeare's,  and  which  bear  the 
clearest  tokens  of  his  mintage.  It  is,  on  the  face  of  the  thing,  nowise 
likely  that  Shakespeare  would  have  borrowed  from  Middleton  :  but, 
Middleton's  connection  with  the  tragedy  being  established,  nothing  is 
more  likely  than  that  he  may  have  l^orrowed  from  Shakespeare.  The 
natural  conclusion  therefore  is,  that  Macbeth  was  well  known,  and  its 
ver)'  language  familiar,  to  Middleton  before  he  wrote  The  Witch,  or 
while  he  was  writing  it.  Here,  then,  we  have  a  contradiction,  or 
seeming  contradiction  ;  which,  however,  is  easily  cleared  up  by  sup- 
posing the  original  form  of  the  tragedy  to  have  been  in  being  before 
The  Witch  was  written,  and  that  the  tragedy  received  its  presejit  form 
after  the  writing  of  The  Witch. 

Middleton's  play  was  doubtless  highly  popular  on  the  stage  for  a 
time :  the  witchcraft-scenes  especially  yield  ample  food  for  a  transient 
popularity.  Finding  that  his  representation  of  old-woman  witches 
pleased  the  popular  taste  and  took  well  with  the  multitude,  he  would 
naturally  crave  to  repeat  or  prolong  the  thing  with  some  variation.  In 
Shakespeare's  tragedy  he  may  well  have  seen  a  cheap  and  ready  way 
of  catering  still  further  to  the  pojjular  taste.  Upon  the  supposal  of 
his  having  taken  Macbeth  in  hand  with  this  view,  we  can  easily 
perceive  strong  inducements  for  him  to  assimilate,  as  far  as  might  be. 
the  sublime  and  unique  creations  of  Shakespeare's  imagination  to  the 
commonplace  and  vulgar  offspring  of  his  own  fancy,  which  he  had 
found  so  profitable. 

To  those  at  all  booked  in  the  usages  of  the  Elizabethan  stage,  it  is 
well  known  that  stock  plays,  as  they  are  called,  belonging  to  the 
theatrical  companies,  and  laid  up  in  their  archives,  were  often  taken  in 
hand,  overhauled,  altered,  improved,  and  brought  out  afresh,  either  as 
new  plays  or  as  old  plays  with  new  attractions.     It  is  as  certain  as  any 


126  MACBETH. 

thing  of  the  kind  well  can  be,  that  Shakespeare  himself  exercised  his 
hand  more  or  less  in  thus  recasting  and  amending  old  stock  plays.  It 
is  also  well  known  that  his  manuscripts  were  owned  by  the  theatrical 
company  of  which  he  was  a  member  ;  and  that  they  remained  in  the 
company's  hands,  as  their  property,  both  during  his  life  and  after  his 
death.  What,  then,  is  more  likely  than  that  some  of  his  plays  may  in 
turn  have  been  subjected  to  the  same  process  which  he  had  himself  used 
on  the  workmanship  of  others,  though  not  indeed  with  the  same  result  ? 
And  so,  I  have  no  doubt,  it  was.  The  thing  was  quite  too  common 
for  any  scruples  to  spring  up  about  it.  —  I  may  as  well  add,  here,  that 
Middleton  died  in  1627,  eleven  years  after  the  death  of  Shakespeare  ; 
and  that  he  continued  to  write  more  or  less  for  the  stage  till  near  the 
close  of  his  life. 

The  matter,  I  believe,  is  now  ready  for  something  to  be  heard  from 
Clark  and  Wright.  —  "  If  we  were  certain,"  say  they,  "that  the  whole 
of  Macbeth,  as  we  now  read  it,  came  from  Shakespeare's  hand,  we 
should  be  justified  in  concluding  from  the  data  before  us,  that  Middle- 
ton,  who  was  probably  junior  and  certainly  inferior  to  Shakespeare, 
consciously  or  unconsciously  imitated  the  great  master.  But  we  are 
persuaded  that  there  are  parts  of  Macbeth  which  Shakespeare  did  not 
write  ;  and  the  style  of  these  seems  to  us  to  resemble  that  of  Middleton. 
It  would  be  very  uncritical  to  pick  out  of  Shakespeare's  works  all  that 
seems  inferior  to  the  rest,  and  to  assign  it  to  somebody  else.  At  his 
worst,  he  is  still  Shakespeare  ;  and,  though  the  least  '  mannered '  of  all 
poets,  he  has  always  a  manner  which  cannot  well  be  mistaken.  In  the 
parts  of  J\facbeth  of  which  we  speak  we  find  no  trace  of  his  manner. 
But  to  come  to  particulars.  We  believe  that  the  second  scene  of  the 
first  Act  was  not  written  by  Shakespeare.  Making  all  allowance  for 
corruption  of  text,  the  slovenly  metre  is  not  like  Shakespeare's  work, 
even  when  he  is  most  careless.  The  bombastic  phraseology  of  the 
Sergeant  is  not  like  Shakespeare's  language,  even  when  he  is  most 
bombastic." 

The  writers  then  go  on  to  allege  the  fact,  for  such  it  is,  that  in  one 
point  this  scene  is  strangely  inconsistent  with  what  is  said  in  the  fol- 
lowing scene.  For  Ross,  in  giving  Duncan  an  account  of  the  battle, 
here  represents  the  Thane  of  Cawdor  as  having  fought  on  the  side  of 
the  invaders,  till  Macbeth  "  confronted  him  with  self  caparisons, 
point  against  point  rebellious";  whereas  in  the  next  scene  we  have 
Macbeth  speaking  as  if  he  knew  nothing  whatever  of  Cawdor's   trea- 


SHAKESPEARE    AND    MIDDLETON.  \2J 

son:  "The  Thane  of  Cawdor  lives,  a  prosperous  gentleman."  Angus, 
also,  who  enters  along  with  Ross,  in  the  third  scene,  speaks  of  Cawdor 
thus :  "  Whether  he  was  combined  with  those  of  Norway,  or  did  line 
the  rebel  with  hidden  help  and  vantage,  I  know  not ;  but  treasons 
capital,  confess'd  and  proved,  have  overthrown  him."  To  be  sure, 
Shakespeare  has,  not  seldom,  slight  lapses  of  memory,  or  what  seem 
such  ;  but  that  he  would  have  penned  so  glaring  a  contradiction  as 
this  amounts  to,  who  can  believe  ? 

Nevertheless  the  writers  in  question  admit  that  the  second  scene  has 
a  few  lines  which  taste  strongly  of  Shakespeare;  such  as,  "The  multi- 
plying villainies  of  nature  do  swarm  upon  him";  and,  "Confronted 
him  with  self  caparisons,  point  against  point  rebellious,  arm  'gainst 
arm,  curbing  his  lavish  spirit."  To  these  I  should  certainly  add 
"  Where  the  Norweyan  banners  flout  the  sky,  and  fan  our  people  cold"; 
which  is  to  me  distinctly  Shakespearian. 

The  opening  part,  also,  of  the  third  scene,  down  to  the  entrance  of 
Macbeth  and  Banquo,  they  rule  off  from  Shakespeare.  Here,  again, 
I  fully  agree  with  them  :  for,  besides  that  the  style  is  not  at  all  like 
Shakespeare's,  I  have  a  deeper  reason  in  that,  as  before  observed,  his 
conception  of  the  Weird  Sisters  is  overlaid  and  strangled  with  dis- 
cordant and  irrelevant  matter.  Therewithal  the  dramatic  flow  and 
current,  it  seems  to  me,  would  be  far  better  without  this  part  of  the 
scene. 

Referring  to  the  fifth  scene  of  Act  iii.,  they  observe  that,  if  this  scene 
"had  occurred  in  a  drama  not  attributed  to  Shakespeare,  no  one  would 
have  discovered  in  it  any  trace  of  Shakespeare's  manner."  This  is 
putting  it  very  softly :  for,  besides  that  a  new  personage,  I  locate,  is 
here  introduced  without  any  apparent  cause,  the  style  and  versilication 
taste  even  less  of  Shakespeare  than  in  the  forecited  portions  of  i.  3  ; 
and  the  whole  scene  is,  in  point  of  dramatic  order  and  sequence,  a 
sheer  incumbrance,  serving  no  purpose  but  to  untune  the  harmony  of 
the  action. 

Again,  touching  the  cauldron-scene,  Act  iv.,  scene  i,  they  speak  as 
follows  :  "  The  rich  vocabulary,  prodigal  fancy,  and  terse  diction  dis- 
played in  the  first  thirty-eight  lines,  show  the  hand  of  a  master,  and 
make  us  hesitate  in  ascribing  the  passage  fo  any  one  but  the  master 
himself.  There  is,  however,  a  conspicuous  falling  off  in  the  eight  lines 
after  the  entrance  of  Hecate."  And  of  the  last  eight  lines  before  the 
Witches  vanish,  beginning  with  "Ay,  sir,  all  this  is  so,"  they  say  that 
these  "cannot  be  Shakespeare's." 


128  MACBETH. 

To  all  this  I  heartily  subscribe;  and  thus,  to  my  mind  the  Poet  stands 
acquitted  of  all  the  choral  passages;  which,  it  seems  to  me,  only 
blemish  the  proper  dramatic  austerity  of  the  play,  however  they  may 
add  to  its  attractiveness  as  a  popular  performance.  Nor  do  I  believe  it 
ever  entered  into  Shakespeare's  head  to  "  unbend  the  noble  strength  " 
of  this  great  tragedy  with  any  such  mellifluous  intervals. 

Besides  the  forecited  passages,  the  same  writers  point  out  several 
"rhyming  tags,"  and  shorter  passages,  which  they  justly  rule  off  as 
interpolations.     They  then  add  the  following  : 

"Finally,  the  last  forty  lines  of  the  play  show  evident  traces  of 
another  hand  than  Shakespeare's.  The  double  stage-direction, 
^  Exeunt  fighting:  —  '  Enter  fighting,  and  Macbeth  slain,"  proves  that 
some  alteration  had  been  made  in  the  conclusion  of  the  piece.  Shake- 
speare, who  has  inspired  his  audience  with  pity  for  Lady  Macbeth, 
and  made  them  feel  that  her  guilt  has  been  almost  absolved  by  the 
terrible  retribution  which  followed,  would  not  have  disturbed  this 
feehng  by  calling  her  a  '  fiend-like  queen  ' ;  nor  would  he  have  drawn 
away  the  veil  which  with  his  fine  tact  he  had  dropped  over  her  fate,  by 
teUing  us  that  she  had  taken  off  her  life  '  by  self  and  violent  hands.' " 

In  reference,  again,  to  the  opening  of  the  play,  these  writers  pro- 
nounce as  follows :  "  The  eleven  lines  which  now  make  the  first  scene, 
and  which,  from  long  familiarity,  we  regard  as  a  necessary  introduction 
to  the  play,  are  not  unworthy  of  Shakespeare  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
do  not  rise  above  the  level  which  is  reached  by  Middleton  and  others 
of  his  contemporaries  in  their  happier  moments." 

As  remarked  in  the  preface,  the  opening  of  Forman's  account  looks 
as  if  the  play  did  not  then  begin  with  the  scene  in  question.  Nothing, 
however,  can  be  soundly  inferred  from  this.  He  may  have  chosen  to 
begin  his  account  with  what  struck  him  with  peculiar  force  ;  or,  as 
Clark  and  Wright  observe,  "  he  may  have  arrived  at  the  theatre  a  few 
minutes  late."  For  my  part,  I  have  scarce  any  doubt  that  the  first 
scene  is  Shakespeare's,  all  except  two  lines,  the  eighth  and  ninth,  in 
which  the  Weird  Sisters  are  made  to  talk  just  like  vulgar  witches. 
For,  as  the  entire  course  of  the  action  turns  on  the  agency  of  the 
Weird  Sisters,  it  were  in  strict  keeping  with  the  Poet's  usual  manner  to 
begin  by  thus  striking  the  key-note  of  the  whole  play. 

I  must  add,  that  the  Clarendon  Editors  further  rule  off,  as  interpola- 
tions, the  soliloquy  and  dialogue  of  the  Porter,  in  Act  ii.,  scene  i,  and 
also  the  passage  about  "  touching  for  the  evil,"  in  iv.  3.  Here,  how- 
ever, I  dissent  from  lliem  altogether. 


SHAKESPEARE    AND    MIDDLETON.  1 29 

The  theory  whereby  they  account  for  the  condition  in  which  JMacheth 
has  reached  us  is  propounded  as  follows :  "  On  the  whole,  we  incline 
to  think  that  the  play  was  interpolated  after  Shakespeare's  death,  or  at 
least  after  he  had  withdrawn  from  all  connection  with  the  theatre.  The 
interpolator  was,  not  improbably,  Thomas  Middleton  ;  who,  to  please 
the  'groundlings,'  expanded  the. parts  originally  assigned  by  Shake- 
speare to  the  Weird  Sisters,  and  also  introduced  a  new  character, 
Hecate.     The  signal  inferiority  of  her  speeches  is  thus  accounted  for." 

In  1876,  the  Rev.  Frederick  G.  Fleay  put  forth  a  highly  instructive 
volume  entitled  Shakespeare  Manual.  He  takes  up  the  question  where 
the  Clarendon  Editors  left  it,  accepting  all  their  forecited  conclusions, 
except  that  touching  the  Porter's  soliloquy  and  dialogue,  but  insists  on 
pushing  the  argument  much  further,  first,  he  excludes  the  whole  of 
the  first  scene,  which,  as  before  shown,  Clark  and  Wright  do  not. 
Second,  he  rules  off  the  second  scene,  as  Clark  and  Wright  also  do; 
but  thinks,  and  rightly,  I  have  no  doubt,  that  "  in  all  probability  this 
scene  replaces  one  of  Shakespeare's";  a  few  of  his  lines  being  per- 
haps retained,  and  worked  in  with  the  inferior  matter.  He  concurs 
with  Clark  and  Wright  also  about  the  third  scene,  down  to  the  entrance 
of  Macbeth  and  Banquo.  And  he  takes  the  same  course  touching  all 
the  Hecate  matter,  both  in  iii.  5,  and  in  iv.  I.  I  must  here  quote, 
with  slight  abbreviation,  what  he  says  of  this  matter :  "  This  un-Shake- 
spearian  Hecate  does  not  use  Shakespearian  language  :  there  is  not  a 
line  in  her  part  that  is  not  in  Middleton's  worst  style  ;  her  metre  is  a 
jumble  of  tens  and  eights,  (iambic,  not  trochaic  like  Shakespeare's 
short  lines,)  a  sure  sign  of  inferior  work  ;  and,  what  is  of  most  im- 
portance, she  is  not  of  the  least  use  in  the  play  in  any  way :  the  only 
effect  she  produces  is,  that  the  three  Fate-goddesses,  who  in  the  intro- 
duction of  the  play  were  already  Ijrought  down  to  ordinary  witches, 
are  lowered  still  further  to  witches  of  an  inferior  grade,  with  a  mistress 
who  '  contrives  their  charms,'  and  is  jealous  if  any  '  trafficking '  goes 
on  in  which  she  does  not  bear  her  part.  She  and  her  songs  are  all 
alike  not  only  of  the  earth  earthy,  but  of  the  mud  muddy.  They  are 
the  sediment  of  Middleton's  puddle,  not  the  sparkling  foam  of  the 
living  waters  of  Shakespeare." 

But  Mr.  Fleay's  distinctive  position  is  in  reference  to  the  cauldron 
business  in  iv.  i.  "What,"  he  asks,  "are  the  witches"  of  that 
scene  ?  "  are  they  the  '  Weird  Sisters,'  fairies,  nymphs,  or  goddesses  ? 
or  are  they  ordinary  witches  or  wizards,  and  entirely  distinct  from  the 


130  MACBETH. 

three  mysterious  beings  in  i.  3  ?  I  hold  the  latter  view."  He  then 
goes  on  to  admit  that  the  first  thirty-eight  lines  of  iv.  i,  down  to  the 
entrance  of  Hecate,  are  greatly  superior  to  the  thirty-seven  lines  of  i. 
3,  before  the  entrance  of  Macbeth  and  Banquo.  And  he  fully  agrees 
with  Clark  and  Wright,  that  the  former  are  Shakespeare's  ;  but  says  he 
"  cannot  identify  these  witches  with  the  Nomas  "  of  i.  3,  after  the  en- 
trance of  Macbeth  and  Banquo.  "The  witches,"  says  he,  "in  iv.  i, 
are  just  like  Middleton's  witches,  only  superior  in  quahty.  They  are 
clearly  the  originals  from  whom  his  imitations  were  taken.  Their 
charms  are  of  the  sort  popularly  believed  in.  Their  powers  are  to 
untie  the  winds,  lodge  corn,  create  storms,  raise  spirits  ;  but  of  them- 
selves they  have  not  the  prophetic  knowledge  of  the  Weird  Sisters,  the 
all-knowers  of  Past,  Present,  Future  :  they  must  get  their  knowledge 
from  their  masters,  or  call  them  up  to  communicate  it  themselves." 

Thus  he  does  not  allow  the  Witches  of  that  scene  to  be  the  Weird 
Sisters  at  all,  or  to  have  any  thing  in  common  with  them.  Nevertheless 
he  candidly  refers  to  two  passages  where  they  are  clearly  indentified 
with  the  Weird  Sisters :  one  near  the  close  of  iii.  4,  where  Macbeth 
himself  says,  "  I  will  to-morrow,  ay,  and  betimes  I  will,  to  th'  Weird 
Sisters "  ;  the  other  in  iv.  i,  just  after  the  Witches  vanish,  where 
Macbeth  asks  Lennox,  "  Saw  you  the  Weird  Sisters  ?  "  And  he  frankly 
admits  that  both  these  passages  are  Shakespeare's.  He  then  adds  the 
following :  "  If  my  theory  lie  true,  those  two  passages  must  be  explained. 
This  is  a  real  difficulty,  and  I  cannot  satisfactorily  solve  it  at  present. 
I  can  only  conjecture  that  Shakespeare  made  a  slip,  or  intended  Mac- 
beth to  make  one."  Professor  Dowden  aptly  searches  the  core  of  Mr. 
Fleay's  position  by  observing,  "  It  is  hardly  perhaps  a  sound  method  of 
criticism  to  invent  a  hypothesis,  which  creates  an  insoluble  difficulty." 

But  is  there  any  way  to  account  for  the  altered  language  and  methods 
used  in  the  cauldron  business,  without  dispossessing  the  Weird  Sisters 
of  their  proper  character  ?     Let  us  see. 

The  Weird  Sisters  of  course  have  their  religion;  though,  to  be  sure, 
that  religion  is  altogether  Satanic.  For  so  essential  is  religion  of  some 
kind  to  all  social  life  and  being,  that  even  the  society  of  Hell  cannot 
subsist  without  it.  Now,  every  religion,  whether  human  or  Satanic, 
has,  and  must  have,  a  liturgy  and  ritual  of  some  sort,  as  its  organs  of 
action  and  expression.  The  Weird  Sisters  know,  by  supernatural  ways, 
that  Macbeth  is  burning  to  question  them  further,  and  that  he  has 
resolved  to  pay  them  a  visit.  To  instruct  and  inspire  him  in  a  suitable 
manner,  they  arrange  to  hold  a  religious  service  in  his  presence  and 


SHAKESPEARE    AND    MIUDLETON.  13! 

behalf.  And  they  fitly  employ  the  language  and  ritual  of  witchcraft, 
as  being  the  only  language  and  ritual  which  he  can  understand  and 
take  the  sense  of :  they  adopt,  for  the  occasion,  the  sacraments  of 
witchcraft,  because  these  are  the  only  sacraments  whereby  they  can 
impart  to  him  the  Satanic  grace  and  efficacy  which  it  is  their  office  to 
dispense.  The  language,  however,'  and  ritual  of  witchcraft  are  in  their 
use  condensed  and  intensified  to  the  highest  degree  of  potency  and 
impressiveness.  Thus  their  appalling  infernal  liturgy  is  a  special  and 
necessary  accommodation  to  the  senses  and  the  mind  of  the  person 
they  are  dealing  with.  It  really  seems  to  me  that  they  had  no 
practicable  way  but  to  speak  and  act  in  this  instance  just  like  witches, 
only  a  great  deal  more  so.  But,  in  the  Middleton  scenes  and  parts  of 
scenes,  they  are  made  to  speak  and  act  just  like  common  witches,  to 
no  purpose,  and  without  any  occasion  for  it.  This  is,  indeed,  to  dis- 
nature  them,  to  empty  them  of  their  selfhood. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  add,  that  Shakespeare  of  course  wrote  his 
plays  for  the  stage  ;  but  then  he  also,  in  a  far  deeper  and  higher  sense, 
wrote  them  for  the  human  mind.  And  the  divinity  of  his  genius  lies 
pre-eminently  in  this,  that,  while  he  wished  to  make  his  workmanship 
attractive  and  fruitful  in  the  theatre,  he  could  not  choose  but  make  it 
at  the  same  time  potent  and  delectable  in  the  inner  courts  of  man's 
intelligent  and  upward-reaching  soul.  But  this  latter  service  was  a 
thing  that  Middleton  knew  nothing  of,  and  had  not  the  heart  to 
conceive. 

I  return  to  Mr.  Fleay. — To  the  few  smaller  interpolations  pointed 
out  by  the  Clarendon  Editors,  he  adds  a  considerable  number.  These 
call  for  some  notice.  Clark  and  Wright  make  particular  mention  of  a 
passage  in  v.  5,  as  follows : 

Arm,  arm,  and  out ! 

If  this  -which  he  avouches  does  appear. 

There  is  nor  flying  hence  nor  tarrying  here. 

I'gin  to  be  arveary  of  the  Sun, 

And  wish  th'  estate  0'  the  world  were  now  undone.  — 

Ring  the  alarum  bell!  —  Blow,  wind!  come  wrack! 

At  least  we'll  die  with  harness  on  our  back. 

And  of  the  four  lines  here  underscored  they  justly  observe,  "  How 
much  better  the  sense  is  without  them !  "  Let  any  one  read  the 
passage  without  these  lines,  and  surely  he  must  see  that  Shakespeare 
could  not  have  written  them.  In  like  manner,  Mr.  Fleay  calls  attention 
to  the  close  of  v.  6,  where  Macduff,  whose  speech  is  everywhere  else 


132  MACBETH. 

so  simple,  so  manly,  and  so  condensed,  is  made  to  utter  the  following 
strutting  and  ambitious  platitude  : 

Make  all  our  trumpets  speak  ;  give  them  all  breath, 
Those  clamorous  harbingers  of  blood  and  death. 

But,  as  the  text  distinguishes  with  asterisks  all  the  passages  pointed 
out  by  Mr.  Fleay,  there  is  no  need  of  further  detail  in  this  place. 
There  are,  however,  three  other  passages  which  I  have  marked  in  the 
same  way,  on  my  own  judgment.  These  are,  the  couplet,  i.  5, 
"  Which  shall  to  all  our  nights,"  &c.,  and  Lady  Macbeth's  speech  a 
little  after,  "  Only  look  up  clear,"  &c.,  and,  in  v.  3,  the  couplet  begin- 
ning, "The  mind  I  sway  by."  There  are  also  several  other  passages 
which  I  strongly  suspect  ought  to  be  put  on  the  same  list.  These  are 
the  couplet  at  the  end  of  i.  7,  "  Away,  and  mock  the  time,"  &c.,  and  the 
line  and  a  half  at  the  close  of  v.  2,  "  Or  so  much  as  it  needs,"  &c.  ; 
also,  in  iii.  2,  the  three  and  a  half  lines  beginning,  "  Nought's  had,  all's 
spent ";  but  especially  the  five  lines  and  a  half  at  the  close  of  the  same 
scene,  beginning,  "  Light  thickens,  and  the  crow  makes  wing."  I  am 
all  but  satisfied  that  this  is  not  Shakespeare's;  for  it  is  not  only  flat  and 
feeble,  but  hardly  consistent  with  what  precedes;  and  seems,  indeed, 
the  work  of  one  who  fancied  he  was  surpassing  Shakespeare. 

As  regards  the  closing  part  of  the  play,  all,  I  mean,  that  follows, 
after  Macbeth  and  Macduff  go  out  fighting,  I  have  not  yet  been  able 
fully  to  make  up  my  mind.  The  Clarendon  Editors,  as  we  have  seen, 
rule  it  all  off  from  Shakespeare.  Mr.  Fleay  speaks  of  it  as  follows : 
"  The  account  of  young  Siward's  death  and  the  unnatural  patriotism 
of  his  father,  which  is  derived  from  Holinshed's  history  of  England, 
and  not  of  Scotland  like  the  rest  of  the  play,  is  a  bit  of  padding  put 
in  by  Shakespeare  after  finishing  the  whole  tragedy."  To  the  best  of 
my  judgment,  some  portions  of  it  are  not  unworthy  of  Shakespeare; 
especially  the  speech  of  Macduff  on  his  re-entrance  with  Macbeth's 
head.  On  the  other  hand,  what  old  Siward  says  about  the  death  of 
his  son  seems  too  hard  and  unnatural  for  Shakespeare's  healthy  human- 
heartedness  to  have  written.  To  be  sure,  we  cannot  but  feel  that  the 
brave  old  father's  heart  is  not  in  his  words;  and  the  latter  may  be  taken 
as  a  spontaneous  effort  to  hide  his  grief.  So  that  I  still  hesitate.  As 
to  the  last  speech,  however,  I  have  no  doubts  whatever. 

I  close  with  an  abridged  statement  of  Mr.  Fleay's  "  theory  as  to 
the  composition  of  the  play."  "It  was  written,"  says  he,  "I  think, 
after  King  Lear.     Middleton  revised  and  abridged  it :  I  agree  with  the 


SHAKESPEARE    AND    MIDDLETON.  1 33 

Cambridge  Editors  in  saying  not  earlier  than  1613.  There  is  a  decisive 
argument  that  he  did  so  after  he  wrote  The  Witch;  namely,  that  he 
borrows  the  songs  from  the  latter  play,  and  repeats  himself  a  good  deal. 
I  believe  that  Middleton,  having  found  the  groundlings  more  taken 
with  the  Witches,  and  the  cauldron,  than  with  the  grander  art  displayed 
in  the  Fate-goddesses,  determined  fo  amalgamate  these,  and  to  give  us 
plenty  of  them.  I  believe  also  the  extra  fighting  in  the  last  scenes  was 
inserted  for  the  same  reason.  But,  finding  that  the  magic  and  the 
singing  and  the  fighting  made  the  play  too  long,  he  cut  out  large  por- 
tions of  the  psychological  Shakespeare  work,  in  which,  as  far  as  quan- 
tity is  concerned,  this  play  is  very  deficient  compared  with  the  three 
other  masterpieces  (jf  world-poetry,  and  left  us  the  torso  we  now  have. 
To  hide  the  excisions,  Middleton  put  on  tags  at  the  places  where  he 
made  the  scenes  end." 

There  remams  but  to  add,  that  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  of  the  play's 
having  been  greatly  shortened  in  the  process  of  alteration.  For  the 
alteration  was  evidently  prosecuted  with  a  view  to  stage-effect.  Such 
being  the  case,  those  parts  which  were  most  effective  on  the  stage 
would  naturally  be  retained,  and  others  added  still  more  suited  to  catch 
the  applause  of  the  groundlings;  while  such  parts  as  were  especially 
at  home  in  the  courts  of  reason  and  thought  would  be  cast  aside. 


CRITICAL    NOTES. 


ACT   I.,  SCENE   I. 

Page  II.     IVJicn  shall lue  three  meet  again 

In  thunder,  lightning,  and  in  rain?  —  So  Haiimer.  The 
original  has  "  Lightning,  or  in  raine."  This  makes  the  three,  thunder, 
lightning,  rain,  ahernative  ;  the  sense,  expressed  in  full,  being  "  either 
in  thunder  or  in  lightning  or  in  rain."  The  context  and  the  occasion 
apparently  require  the  sense  of  those  three  words  to  be  cumulative. 

P.  12.    I  Witch.     Where  the  place? 

2  Witch.  Upon  the  heath. 

3  Witch.  There  to  meet  with  Macbeth. — There  is  surely 
some  corruption  here  ;  for  Macbeth  was  evidently  meant  to  rhyme  with 
heath,  but  there  needs  another  syllable  to  make  it  do  so.  And  every- 
where else,  I  think,  Macbeth  has  the  ictus  on  the  second  syllable.  Per- 
haps bold,  brave,  proud,  or  great  should  be  supplied  before  the  name. 

P.  12.    I  Witcli.    I  come,  graynialkin. 

2  Witch.    Paddock  calls. —  Anon  I 

All.  Fair  is  foul,  and  foul  is  fair  : 
Hover  through  the  fog  and  filthy  air.  —  So  Pope.  The  original 
prints  the  last  two  speeches  as  one,  with  All  prefixed.  Dyce's  remark 
is  right,  beyond  question  :  "  Surely  it  is  evident  that  the  author  in- 
tended only  the  concluding  couplet  to  be  spoken  in  chorus."  WhUe 
prints  "Anon  !"  as  a  separate  speech,  and  prefixes  to  it  "j  Witch.'' 
In  a  note  he  says,  "The  arrangement  of  the  text  seems  to  me  to  be 
required  both  by  the  succession  of  the  thoughts,  and  by  the  ternary 
sequence  of  the  dialogue  of  the  Witches  throughout  all  the  scenes  in 
which  we  see  them  at  their  incantations."  Perhaps  he  is  right.  But  I 
do  not  believe  we  have  the  scene  as  Shakespeare  wrote  it;  and  1  am 
sure  that  the  first  two  lines  are  not  his.  Probably  Middleton  threw 
out  some  of  Shakespeare's  gold,  and  thrust  in  some  of  his  own  dross. 


136  MACBETH. 


Act  I.,  Scene  2. 

P.  13.  Say  to  the  King  thy  knowledge  of  the  broil. —  So  Walker. 
The  original  has  "  Say  to  the  King  the  knowledge." 

P.  13.    Of  kerns  a«^gallowglasses  is  supplied; 

And  Fortune,  on  his  damnkd  (\a.2LXX&\  smiling, 
Showed  like  a  rebel's  whore:  but  all's  too  weak;  &c.  —  In  the 
tirst  of  these  lines,  the  original  has  Galloivgrosses.  Corrected  in  the 
second  folio.  In  the  second  line,  the  original  has  "  damned  quarry.'''' 
The  change  of  quarry  to  quarrel  is  made  in  Collier's  second  folio,  but 
had  been  adopted  by  most  of  the  editors  before  that  volume  was  heard 
of.  It  is  amply  justified  by  Holinshed's  account  of  the  matter  :  "  Out 
of  the  Western  Isles  there  came  unto  him  a  great  multitude  of  people, 
offering  themselves  to  assist  him  in  that  rebellious  quarrel.^'  And  later 
in  the  play  we  have  "  the  chance  of  goodness  be  like  our  warranted 
quarrel!"  where  ^'warranted  quarrel  "  is  just  the  opposite  of  "  damned 
quarrel."  See,  also,  foot-note  5.  —  For  is,  in  the  first  line,  Pope  sub- 
stitutes was,  and  also,  in  the  third  line,  changes  all 's  to  all.  Of  course 
this  is  done  to  redress  the  confusion  of  tenses.  And  Lettsom  says, 
"  Read,  with  Pope,  *  2uas  supplied  ' :  the  corruption  was  caused  by  Do 
just  above."  And  again,  "  Read,  with  Pope,  '  all  too  weak.'  "  But  we 
have  other  like  mixing  of  tenses  in  this  scene.     See  foot-note  6. 

P.  14.  And  ne'er  shook  hands,  nor  bade  farewell  to  him.  —  The  origi- 
nal reads  "  IFhieh  nev'r  shooke  hands."  As  l-Fhieh  begins  the  third 
line  above,  it  doubtless  crept  in  here  by  accidental  repetition.  Cor- 
rected by  Capell. 

P.  14.    .4s  whence  the  Sun  gives  his  reflection 

Ship-wrecking  storms  and  direful  thunders  break; 
So  from  that  spri tig  whence  comfort  seem'' d  to  come 
Discomfort  swells.  —  So  Pope.  The  word  break  is  wanting  in 
the  original  ;  which  thus  leaves  both  sense  and  metre  defective.  The 
second  folio  supplied  breaking.  —  There  has  been  some  stumbHng  at 
S7vells  here;  I  hardly  know  why:  the  meaning  clearly  is,  ^rt^wj-  big; 
just  as  a  thunder-cloud  often  swells  up  rapidly  into  a  huge,  dark  mass, 
where,  a  little  before,  the  sky  was  full  of  comfort.  Capell  reads  icells, 
which,  to  my  sense,  is  nothing  near  so  good.  —  In  the  first  line,  the 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  137 

original  has  ^gins  instead  of  gives.  Having  never  been  able  to  un- 
derstand the  old  text,  I  adopt  Pope's  reading.  Heath  comments  as 
follows :  "  The  fact,  in  this  island  at  least,  is,  that  storms  and  thunder 
do  as  frequently  take  their  course  from  the  North  and  West  as  from 
the  East.  The  hurricanes  always  proceed  from  the  North,  and  turn  to 
the  westward.  But  this  was  not  the  pomt  Shakespeare  had  in  view. 
He  draws  the  similitude  from  a  very  common  appearance  ;  when  a  clear 
sky  and  bright  sunshine  are  on  a  sudden  overcast  with  dark  clouds, 
which  terminate  in  thunder  and  a  short  but  very  dangerous  tempest, 
especially  in  the  lochs  and  narrow,  embarrassed  seas  of  Scotland.  It 
is  evident  therefore  that  we  ought  to  prefer  the  other  reading,  '  As 
whence  the  Smt\ gives  his  reflection ';  that  is.  As  from  a  clear  sky  whence 
the  light  of  the  Sun  is  transmitted  in  its  full  brightness."  —  See  foot- 
note 9. 

P.  15-    As  cannons  overcharged  "vith  double  cracks  ; 

So  they  redoubled  strokes  upon  the  foe.  — •  So  Pope.  The  origi- 
nal has  "  So  they  doubly  redoubled  stroakes";  doubly  being  probably 
interpolated  by  some  player  in  order  to  prolong  the  jingle  on  double. 
At  all  events,  both  sense  and  verse  plead  against  it.  Walker  thinks 
the  word  has  no  business  in  the  text. 

P.  15.  IVhat  haste  looks  through  his  eyes! — So  the  second  folio. 
The  first  has  "  What  a  haste."  But  the  Poet  has  many  like  exclama- 
tive  phrases  without  the  article,  which  here  mars  the  verse.  See  foot- 
note 14. 

P.  16.  The  Thane  of  Cawdor  'gan  a  dismal  conflict ; 
Till  that  Bellona''s  bridegrootn,  lapp'd  in  proof. 
Confronted  him  with  j^//"  caparisons.  —  In  the  first  of  these 
lines,  the  original  has  began  instead  of  'gan,  and  in  the  third,  "  selfe- 
comparisonsy  It  is,  I  think,  hardly  possible  to  squeeze  any  fitting 
sense  out  of  comparisons  here.  The  common  explanation  takes  hi>n 
as  referring  to  Norway;  but  this  is  plainly  inconsistent  with  "Point 
gainst  point  rebellious."  Self  caparisons  means  that  they  were  both 
armed  in  the  self-same  7vay.  The  correction  is  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel's. 
The  folio  has  the  same  misprint  again  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  iii. 
13:  "I  dare  him  therefore  to  lay  his  gay  Comparisons  a-part,"  &c. 
Here  Pope  reads  caparisons,  and  rightly,  lieyond  cjuestion.  See  foot- 
note 18. 


138  MACBETH. 


Act  I.,  Scene  3. 

P.  18.   And  the  very  points  they  blozu. 

All  the  quarters  that  they  kno7V 

r  tlie  sliip»ian's  card.  —  So  Pope.  The  original  has /o^-A  in- 
stead of  points.  Davenant's  alteration  of  the  play  has  "  From  all  the 
points  that  seamen  know." 

P.  19.    How  far  is't  calPd  to  Forres?  —  The  original  has  Soris. 

P.  20.  3  Witch.  Thou  shalt  get  kings,  though  thou  be  none. 
All  three.  So,  all  hail,  Macbeth  and  Banquo  ! 
Banquo  and  Macbeth,  all  hail !  —  The  original  makes  the  sec- 
ond of  these  lines  a  continuation  of  the  preceding  speech,  and  assigns 
the  third  to  the  first  witch.  But  surely  Lettsom  is  right  in  saying, 
"These  two  verses  should  be  pronounced  by  i,  2,  3,  in  chorus."  It 
seems  rather  strange  that  the  error  should  have  waited  so  long  to  be 
corrected. 

P.  21.    His  Tvonders  and  his  praises  do  contend 

y^hoX  shoitld  be  thine  or  his.  —  The  original  has  Which  instead 
of  What.  Commentators  have  tugged  mighty  hard  to  wring  a  coher- 
ent and  intelligible  meaning  out  of  the  old  reading,  and  I  have  tugged 
mighty  hard  to  understand  their  explanations  ;  but  all  the  hard  tugging 
has  been  in  vain.  As  Which  must  needs  refer  to  wonders  and  praises, 
I  make  bold  to  say  that  the  passage  so  read  cannot  be  approved  to  be 
either  sense  or  English.  With  What,  the  passage  yields  a  sense,  at 
least,  and,  I  think,  a  fitting  one  ;  though,  to  be  sure,  not  of  the  clear- 
est.    See  foot-note  20. 

P.  22.  As  thick  as  tale 

Came  post  with  post ;  and  every  one  did  bear,  &c.  —  The  origi- 
nal has  Can  instead  of  Came  ;  an  obvious  error,  which  Rowe  corrected. 
Some  editors  cannot  stand  tale  here,  and  substitute  hail.  Dyce  asks, 
"  was  such  an  expression  as  '  thick  as  tale '  ever  employed  by  any 
writer  whatsoever  ?  "  To  which  it  might  be  answered  that  Shakespeare 
seems  to  have  used  it  here.  Dyce  also  quotes  from  old  writers  divers 
instances  of  "  as  thick  as  hail "  ;  which  only  shows  that  this  was  a 
commonplace  hyperbole  ;    whereas  Shakespeare  may  have  chosen  to 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  139 

use  one  less  hackneyed  ;  as  I  think  he  had  a  right  to  do.  Tale  is  the 
substantive  form  of  the  verb  to  tell;  and  Shakespeare  repeatedly  uses 
the  verb  in  the  exact  sense  of  to  count ;  as  he  also  does  thick  in  the 
exact  sense  o{  fast ;  and  surely  the  phrase  "  as  fast  as  you  can  count  " 
is  common  enough.     See  foot-note  22.  ■ 

Act  I.,  Scene  4. 

P.  25.    Is  execution  done  on  Cawdor  ?     Are  not 

Those  in  commission  yet  return'' d?  —  So  the  second  folio.  The 
first  has  "Or  not." 

Act  I.,  Scene  5. 

P.  29.  Thought  have,  great  Glamis, 

That  "which  cries.  Thus  thou  must  do,  if  thou  have  it,  — 
An  act  which  rather  thou  dost  fear  to  do 

Than  wishest  should  be  undone.  —  Instead  of  "  An  act  which," 
the  original  has  "and  that  vi'hich."  This  defeats  the  right  sense  of 
the  passage,  as  it  naturally  makes  7i'hich  refer  to  the  same  thing  as 
which  in  the  preceding  line  ;  whereas  it  should  clearly  be  taken  as 
referring  to  the  words  "Thus  thou  inust  do.'''  Hanmer  reads  "And 
that's  what''' ;  and  the  same  change  occurred  to  me,  as  it  also  did  to 
Mr.  Joseph  Crosby,  before  either  of  us  knew  of  Hanmer's  reading. 
But  I  prefer  "  An  act  which,"  and  have  little  doubt  that  the  original 
reading  crept  in  by  mistake  from  the  line  before. — The  passage  is 
commonly  printed  so  as  to  make  the  words  "  if  thou  have  it "  a  part 
of  what  is  supposed  to  be  cried  by  the  crown.  The  original  gives  no 
sign  as  to  how  much  of  the  speech  is  to  be  taken  thus,  — ■  none,  that 
is,  except  what  is  implied  in  the  word  it.  Of  course  the  crown  is  the 
thing  which  Glamis  would  have  ;  and  if  the  crown  is  here  represented 
as  crying  out  to  him  "Thus  thou  must  do,  if  thou  have,"  there  appears 
no  way  of  getting  the  sense  but  by  substituting  me  for  //.  If,  however, 
we  suppose  only  th«  words  "  Thus  thou  must  do  "  to  be  spoken  by  the 
crown,  and  the  following  words  to  be  spoken  by  Lady  Macbeth  in  her 
own  person,  then  //  is  right ;  and  this  is  probably  the  way  the  passage 
ought  to  be  understood  and  printed.  Johnson  saw  the  difficulty,  and 
proposed  to  read  "  if  thou  have  me." 

P.  30.     That  no  compunctious  visitings  of  nature 
Shake  my  fell  purpose,  nor  hre^ik  peace  between 
Th"  effect  and  it.  —  The  original  has  keepe  instead  of  break^ 


140  MACBETH. 

and  hit  instead  of  it.  The  attempts  that  have  been  made  to  explain 
"  nor  keep  peace,"  are,  it  seems  to  me,  either  absurdly  ingenious  and 
over-subtile  or  something  worse.  The  natural  sense  of  it  is  plainly 
just  the  reverse  of  what  was  intended.  To  be  sure,  almost  any  lan- 
guage can  be  tormented  into  yielding  almost  any  meaning.  And  we 
have  too  many  instances  of  what  may  be  called  a  fanaticism  of  inge- 
nuity, which  always  delights  especially  in  a  reading  that  none  but  itself 
can  explain,  and  in  an  explanation  that  none  but  itself  can  understand. 
See  foot-note  8.  —  The  other  error,  ////,  corrects  itself. 

P.  31.    Nor  Heaven  peep  through  the  blanket  of  the  dark. 

To  cry  Hold,  hold !  —  "  The  blanket  of  the  dark  "  seems  to 
have  troubled  some  persons  greatly  ;  and  Collier's  second  folio  sub- 
stitutes blankness  for  blanket.  This  is  dreadful.  "The  blanket  of 
the  dark "'  is  indeed  a  pretty  bold  metaphor,  but  not  more  bold  than 
apt ;  and  I  agree  with  Mr.  Grant  White,  that  "  the  man  who  does  not 
apprehend  the  meaning  and  the  pertinence  of  the  figure  had  better 
shut  his  Shakespeare,  and  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the  perusal  of — 
some  more  correct  and  classic  writer."     See  foot-note  1 1 . 

Act  I.,  Scene  6. 

P.  32.  The  guest  of  Summer, 

The  Icmple-hamiting  martlet,  does  approve,  &c.  —  The  original 
has  "  This  guest,"  and  Barlet  instead  of  martlet.  The  latter  was 
corrected  by  Rowe.  As  to  the  former,  Lettsom  says,  "  Read  the. 
This  was  repeated  by  mistake  from  the  beginning  of  the  preceding 
speech." 

P.  33.     Where  they  most  breed  and  haunt,  &c.  — The  original  has 
?iiust  instead  of  most.     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

Act  I.,  Scene  7. 

P.  35.     ^ut  here,  upon  this  bank  and  shoal  of  time.  —  The  original 
has  "■Schoole  of  time."     Theobald's  correction. 

P.  35.    Shall  bhno  the  horrid  deed  in  every  eye, 

That  tears  shall  drown  the  wind.  —  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel  would 
read  "in  every  ear'' ;  and  in  support  of  that  lection  he  quotes  the  fol- 
lowing from  Southwell,  Saint  Peter's  Cotnplaint,  Ixxvii. : 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  I4I 

And  seeke  none  other  quintessence  but  tears, 
That  eyes  may  shed  what  enter'd  at  thine  ears. 

P.  36.     Vaulting  ambition,  "which  overleaps  itself, 

And  falls  on  tJi  other  side.  —  So  Hanmer.  The  original  lacks 
%ide,  and  yet  puts  a  period  after  other.  Walker  notes  upon  it  thus : 
"  Evidently  '  th'  other  side  '  ;  and  this  adds  one  to  the  apparently 
numerous  instances  of  omission  in  this  play."  —  It  has  been  ingeniously 
proposed  to  change  itself  vcvXa  its  sell,  an  old  word  for  saddle.  But  the 
Poet  very  seldom  uses  its :  besides,  no  change  is  necessary.  See  foot- 
note 8. 

P.  36.  Wonldst  thou  lack  that 

Which  thou  esteem'' st  the  orjiament  of  life. 

And  live  a  coward  in  thine  own  esteem,  &c. — The  original 
reads  "  Wouldst  thou  have  that  ";  whereupon  Johnson  notes  thus  :  "  In 
this  there  seems  to  be  no  reasoning.  I  should  read  'Or  live'  ;  unless 
we  choose  rather  '  Wouldst  thou  leave  that.'  "  The  reading  in  the  text 
was  proposed  anonymously,  but  occurred  to  me  independently.  In- 
stead of  have,  crave  has  also  been  proposed.  But  Lady  Macbeth  evi- 
dently means  that,  with  so  good  an  opportunity  as  he  now  has  for 
gaining  the  crown,  nothing  but  cowardice  can  induce  him  to  let  it  slip. 
We  have  the  same  error  again  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.  2 :  "If 
you'll  patch  a  quarrel,  as  matter  whole  you  have,  to  make  it  with,"  &c. 
Here  have  should  be  lack,  beyond  question. 

P.    37.    /  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man  ; 

IVho  dares  do  more  is  none. 
Lady  M.  IVhat  beast  was^t,  then, 

That  made  you  break  this  enterprise  to  me?  —  The  original 
reads  "Who  dares  no  more";  a  very  palpable  error.  —  ColHer's 
second  folio  substitutes  boast  for  beast,  and  the  change  has  been  re- 
garded with  favour  in  some  quarters.  Mr.  John  Forster,  in  The  Exam- 
iner, Jan.  29,  1853,  disposes  of  it  thus:  "The  expression  immediately 
preceding  and  eliciting  Lady  Macbeth's  reproach  is  that  in  which 
Macbeth  declares  that  he  dares  do  all  that  may  become  a  matt,  and 
that  who  dares  do  more  is  none.  She  instantly  takes  up  that  expres- 
sion. If  not  an  affair  in  which  a  man  may  engage,  what  beast  was  it, 
then,  in  himself  or  others,  that  made  him  break  this  enterprise  to  her  ? 
The  force  of  the  passage  lies  in  that  contrasted  word,  and  its  meaning 
is  lost  by  the  proposed  substitution." 


142  MACBETH. 

P.  37.    And  das]Cd  the  brains  on't  out,  had  I  so  s7vorn 

As  you  have  done  to  this.  —  So  Lettsom.  The  original  lacks 
on^t,  which  is  needful  alike  to  sense  and  metre.  The  omission  was 
doubtless  owing  to  the  close  resemblance  of  on't  and  out. 

P.  38.  If  we  should  fail,  — 

Lady  M.  We  fail. 

But  screw  your  courage  to  the  sticking-place, 

And  'cve'll  not  fail. — -Such,  I  am  very  conlldent,  is  the  right 
pointing  of  this  much-disputed  passage.  It  is  common!/  given  either 
with  an  (  !)  or  an  (?)  after  fail,  as  if  the  speaker  did  w  A  admit  the 
possibility  of  failure,  and  scouted  at  any  apprehen-^iin  of  the  kind. 
Now  I  cannot  think  her  so  far  gone  in  the  infatuation  of  crime  as  not 
to  see  and  own  the  possibility  that  the  enterprise  may  fail;  but  she  is 
no  doubt  ambitious  enough  to  risk  life  and  all  for  the  chance  or  in  the 
hope  of  being  a  queen.  And  so  I  take  her  meaning  to  be,  "If  we 
fail,  then  we  fail,  and  there's  the  end  of  it."  And  the  use  of  the  adver- 
sative but  in  what  follows  strongly  favours  this  sense  ;  in  fact,  will 
hardly  cohere  with  any  other  sense.  Accordingly  the  simple  period  is 
said  to  have  been  fixed  upon  by  Mrs.  Siddons  after  long  study  and 
exercise  in  the  speech.     .See  foot-note  15. 

Act  ii.,  Scene  i. 

P.  40.  .Sent  forth  great  largess  to  your  officers.  — The  original  has 
offices  instead  of  officers.  The  context  fairly  requires  a  word  denoting 
persons.     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  42.  N'ow  o'er  the  one  half-world 

Nature  seems  dead,  and  wicked  dreams  abuse 
The  curtain' d  sleep  ;  now  witchcraft  celebrates 
Pale  Hecate's  offerings.  —  The   second   ito-w  is  wanting  in  the 

original.     Some  complete  the  verse  by  printing  sleeper  ;  but  surely  the 

repetition  of  noio  is  much  better.     Rowe's  correction. 

P.  42.     With  Tarquiti's  ravishing  strides,  totvards  his  design 
Moves  like  a  ghost.  ■ — ■  Thoz(  sure  and  firm-set  earth. 
Hear  not  my  steps  which  way  they  walk,  &c.  —  In  the  first  of 
these  lines,  the  original  has  sides  instead  of  strides ;  in  the  second, 
sotvre  instead  of  sure;  in  the  third,  "which  they  may  walke."     The 
first  two  corrections  are  Pope's  ;    the  other,  Rowe's. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  I43 

P.  46.  This  my  hand  will  rather 

The  multitudinous  sea  incarnadine. —  So  Rowe.  The  original 
has  Seas  incarnardine.  Some  editors  adopt  incarnadine,  but  retain 
seas.  In  the  former  they  are  right,  of  course,  there  being  really  no 
such  word  as  incarnardine :  but  surely  inidtitzidinous  loses  more  than 
half  its  force,  if  made  the  epithet  of  a  plural  noun. 

P.  49.     La?>ientings  heard  f  the  air,  strange  screams  of  death  : 
And,  prophesying,  ivith  accents  terrible, 
Of  dire  combustion  and  confused  events 
Nezu-hatcK d  to  tK  woeful  time,  the  obscene  bird 
Clamour'' d   the    livelong    night.  — ■  The    original    has    obscure 
instead    of   obscene.     The    correction    was    proposed    by    Walker    and 
White  independently.     See  foot-note  35.  —  Most  editors  have  a  differ- 
ent pointing  in  this  passage  ;    putting  a  colon  after  woeful  time,  and 
thus  separating  bird  from  prophesying,  and  turning  the  latter  into  a 
substantive.     But  surely  it  is  far  better,  both  in  poetry  and  in  sense, 
to  regard  the  obscene,  that  is,  ill-omened,  bird  as  predicting  the  dread- 
ful events  in  question.     Or,  if  this  be  thought  inconsistent  with   neiv- 
hatcKd,  we  may,  as  W^hite  suggests,  take  prophesying  in  an  interpretive 
sense, — the  sense  of  croaking  or  wailing  a  dismal  and  awful  meaning 
into  what  is  occurring.     The  word  is  often  so  used  in  the  Bible;   es- 
pecially in  Ezekiel,  xxxvii. 

P.  50.    Banquo  and  Malcolm  !    Donalbain  !   awake  ! 
Shake  off  this  downy  sleep,  death'' s  counterfeit. 
And  look  on  death  itself !  up,  up,  and  see 
The  great  doom's  image  !     Malcolm,  Banquo  !  all ! 
As  from  your  graves  rise  up,  and  zoalk  like  sprites. 
To  countenance  this  horror  !  [Alarum-!)ell  rings. 

—  In  the  first  of  these  lines,  the  original  reads  "  and  Donalbaine  : 
Malcobyief  &c.  I  transpose  the  names  for  metre's  sake.  Also,  in  the 
fourth  line,  the  original  is  without  all,  thus  leaving  a  breach  in  the 
rhythm.  The  addition  is  Lettsom's.  Again,  the  original  has  the  last 
line  thus:  "To  countenance  this  horror.  Ring  the  bell"  ;  and  then, 
in  another  line,  the  stage-direction,  "  Bell  rings.  Enter  Lady.'"  Mere, 
no  douljt,  as  Malone  observes,  the  players  mistook  "  Ring  the  bell"  for 
a  portion  of  Macduff's  speech,  and  so  inserted  the  stage-direction, 
"  Bell  ri/tiTs.^' 


144  MACBETH. 


Act  II.,  Scene  2. 

P.  55.    And  Duncan'' s  horse', — a  thing  most  strange  and  certain, 
6^c.  —  Instead  of  horse ',  the  original  has  Horses.     But  else- 
where the  Poet  uses  the  singular  form  both  of  this  word  and  of  various 
others  with  the  plural  sense.     See  foot-note  2. 

Act  III.,  Scene  i. 

P.  57.    //  had  been  as  a  gap  in  our  great  feast. 

And  all  things  unbecoming.  —  So  the  third  and  fourth  folios. 
The  first  has  all-thing,  the  second  all-thittgs.  But  the  hyphen  was  so 
used  in  a  great  many  instances  where  no  one  would  now  think  of  re- 
taining it.  Some  editors  here  print  all-thing,  and  explain  it  by  altogether 
or  in  every  way.  But  I  am  not  aware  of  any  other  instance  being 
produced  of  the  phrase  so  used  in  Shakespeare's  time. 

p.;  7.  \^a.y  your  Highness' 

Command  upon  tne.  —  So  Rowe  and  Collier's  second  folio. 
The  original  has  "Let  your  Highnesse,"  &c.;  which,  surely,  is  not 
English,  and  never  was.     Mason  proposes  Set. 

P.  59.    My  genius  is  rebuked,  as,  it  is  said, 

Mark  Antony's  ivas  by  Ccesar's.  — So  Hanmer.  The  original 
has  Casar  instead  of  Ccesar's.  The  correction  is  approved  by  a  pas- 
sage in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.  3:  "Thy  demon,  that  thy  spirit 
which  keeps  thee,  is  noble,  courageous,  high,  unmatchable,  where 
CcBsar's  is  not." 

P.  60.  To  make  them  kings,  the  seed  of  Banquo  kings  ! — Instead 
of  seed,  the  original  has  Seedes.     Pope's  correction. 

P.  61.    Now,  if  you  have  a  station  in  the  fie. 

And  not  i'  the  worser  rank  of  manhood,  say't.  —  The  original 
lacks  And,  and  has  worst  instead  of  worser.  The  insertion  was  made 
by  Rowe;  the  correction  proposed  by  Jervis.  Shakespeare  has  zuorser 
repeatedly  in  the  same  sense. 

P.  62.  So  wearied  with  disasters,  tugg'd  with  fortune.  —  So  Capell, 
Collier's  second  folio,  and  Lettsom.  The-  old  text  has  "  So  wearie 
with  Disasters." 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  I45 

P.  63.    I  -will  advise  you  where  to  plant  yourselves  ; 

Acquaint  you  with  the  perfect  spy  d"  the  time,  &c. — Johnson 
proposed,  and  White  prints,  "with  a  perfect  spy."  It  is  a  nice  point 
which  of  the  articles  should  here  be  used.  "  The  spy  "  may  mean  the 
espial  or  discovery,  that  is,  the  signal,  of  the  time;  "  <?  spy"  would 
mean  \^\q  person  giving  it.  So  I  do  not  see  that  any  thing  is  gained  by 
the  change.     See  foot-note  23. 


Act  III.,  Scene  2. 

P.  64.  We  have  but  scotch'd  the  snake,  not  kilPd  it.  ■ — •  The  original 
reads  "  We  have  scorch'd  the  snake."  The  words,  "  She'll  close,"  in 
the  next  line,  show  that  scotch'd  is  right.  Theobald's  correction.  —  The 
word  ditt  is  wanting  in  the  old  text,  but  given  in  Davenant's  version  of 
the  play.     It  both  saves  the  metre  and  helps  the  sense. 

P.  64.  Better  be  tuith  the  dead, 

Whotn  we,  to  gain  our  place,  have  sent  to  peace, 
Than  on  the  torture  of  the  t/iind  to  lie,  &c.  —  So  the  second 
folio.  The  first  has  peace  instead  of  place.  But  peace  is  nowise  that 
which  Macbeth  has  been  seeking:  his  end  was  simply  to  gain  the 
throne,  the  place  which  he  now  holds,  and  the  fear  of  losing  which  is 
the  very  thing  that  keeps  peace  from  him.  The  methods  by  which 
some  editors  try  to  justify  the  old  reading  seem  to  me  altogether  too 
ingenious  and  too  fine. 

P.  66.    Cancel  and  tear  to  pieces  that  great  bond 

Which  keeps  lue  paled. — The  old  text  \\z.s  pale  instead  o{ paled. 
Probat)ly  the  Poet  wroie  paPd  or  paid ;  and  here,  as  often,  final  d  and 
final  e  were  confounded.  The  correction  is  Staunton's.  It  is  hardly 
needful  to  observe  how  well  paled  brings  out  the  Poet's  meaning  ; 
which  evidently  was,  that  Banquo's  life  was,  so  to  speak,  a  strong  bond 
that  kept  Macbeth  "  bound-in  to  saucy  doubts  and  fears."  See  foot- 
note 14. 

Act  III.,  Scene  4. 

P.  69.  '  Tis  better  thee  without  than  him  within.  —  So  Ilanmer  and 
Collier's  second  folio.     The  original  has  "  than  he  within." 


146  MACBETH. 

P.  70.  Get  thee  gone  :  to-7nprro7V 

We'll  hear't,  ourself,  again.  —  Instead  of  our  self,  v/Yach.  Capell 
proposed,  the  original  has  ourselves,  which  I  have  tried  in  vain  to  un- 
derstand. The  use  of  ourselves  for  each  other,  as  it  has  been  explained, 
is  not  English.  I  suspect  the  true  reading  to  be  "  We'll  hear  yon  tell't 
again."  The  pronoun  our  seems  quite  out  of  place  here  ;  and  we  have 
many  instances  of  our  s.nd  your  confounded,  as  also  of  your  and  you  : 
and  tell't  might  easily  be  misprinted  selves,  when  the  long  s  was  used. 
I  cannot  now  recover  the  source  of  the  proposed  reading.  —  The  origi- 
nal has  hear,  also,  instead  of  Aear't.  — Theobald's  correction. 

P.  72.    Blood  hath  been  shed  ere  now  :  V  the  olden  time. 

Ere  human  statute  purged  the  gentle  weal. 

Ay,  and  since  too,  &c.  —  I  here  adopt  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel's  punctu- 
ation, which,  I  think,  greatly  helps  the  sense.  The  passage  is  com- 
monly printed  with  a  comma  after  ere  no7i',  and  a  colon  or  serai-colon 
after  gentle  weal. 

P.  72.  But  now  they  rise  again. 

With  tiuenty  mortal  gashes  on  their  crowns,  &c.  —  The  origi- 
nal has  "mortal  murders,^''  which  is  justly  condemned  by  Walker: 
"Murders  occurs  four  lines  above,  and  murder  two  lines  below.  This, 
by  the  way,  would  alone  be  sufficient  to  prove  that  murders  was  cor- 
rupt. '■Adortal  murders,'  too,  seems  suspicious."  Walker,  however, 
proposes  no  substitute :  that  in  the  text  is  Lettsom's :  "  Read  '  With 
twenty  mortal  ^(7.f/^d'.f  on  their  crowns.'  Macbeth  is  tliinking  of  what 
he  has  just  heard  from  the  Murderer  : 

With  t%ve>ity  trenched  gashes  on  his  head, 
The  least  a  death  to  nature." 


P.  74.    If  trembling  I  inhabit  then,  protest  me 

The  baby  of  a  girl.  —  I  keep  the  old  reading  here,  because  I 
cannot  see  that  any  of  the  changes  made  or  proposed  really  help  the 
matter.  Theobald  thought  it  should  be,  "If  trembling  me  inhibit.'' 
Pope  changed  inhabit  to  inhibit ;  and  Steevens  proposed  thee  for  then. 
Johnson  conjectured  "  If  trembling  I  evade  it,  then  protest  me,"  &c. 
This,  I  think,  is  the  best  of  them  all,  as  regards  the  sense.  Collier's 
second  folio  reads  "If  trembhng  I  exhibif' ;  which  turns  trembling 
into  a  substantive.     "If  trembling  I  unknight  me,"  "If  trembling  I 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  I47 

inherit^''  "If  trembling  \  flinch  at  it,"  have  also  been  proposed.  Dyce 
prints  "  If  trembling  I  inhibit  thee.''  But  I  think  the  old  reading  ad- 
mits of  a  sense  not  untitting.     See  foot-note  17. 

P.  75.    And  keep  the  natural  ruby  of  your  cheeks, 

When  mine  are  blanch'd  with  fear.  —  The  original  reads 
"  mine  is  blanch'd."  But,  as  mine  clearly  refers  to  cheeks,  it  is  hardly 
possible  that  is  can  be  right.  Hanmer  and  some  others  read  cheek  ; 
but  surely,  as  Dyce  notes,  the  plural  is  required  there. 

P.  76.     There  is  not  one  of  them  but  in  his  house 

I  keep  a  servant  fee' d.  —  So  Pope.  The  original  has  "There's 
not  a  one."  Theobald  reads  "  There's  not  a  Thane  "/  White,  "There's 
not  a  man." 

P.  76.  I  will  to-morro'ii)  — 

Ay,  and  betimes  I  will — to  th'  Weird  Sisters. — The  original 
quite  untunes  the  rhythm  of  the  line  by  having  nothing  in  the  place  of 
Ay.     The  insertion  was  proposed  anonymously. 

Act  in.,  Scene  5. 

P.  78.  [Music  and  a  Song  within  :  Come  azuay,  come  away,  &c.  — 
Thus  much  is  all  that  the  original  prints  of  the  song  here  used.  I 
subjoin,  from  The  Witch,  by  Middleton,  the  whole  song,  or  rather 
musical  dialogue,  which  begins  with  the  forecited  words  : 

Song  above.    Come  away,  come  away, 

Hecate,  Hecate,  come  away ! 
Hecate.    I  come,  I  come,  I  come,  I  come. 

With  all  the  speed  I  may, 

With  all  the  speed  I  may. 

Where's  Stadlin? 
Voice  above.    Here. 
Hecate.   Where  Puckle  ? 
Voice  above.   Here; 

And  Hoppo  too,  and  Hellwain  too ; 

We  lack  but  you,  we  lack  but  you: 

Come  away,  make  up  the  count. 
Hecate.    I  will  but  'noint,  and  then  I  mount. 

\_A  Spirit  like  a  cat  descends 
Voice  above.    There's  one  come  down  to  fetch  his  dues, 

A  kiss,  a  coll,  a  sip  of  blood; 


148  MACBETH. 

And  why  thou  stay'st  so  long,  I  muse,  I  muse. 

Since  the  air's  so  sweet  and  good. 
Hecate.    O,  art  thou  come  ?     What  news,  what  news  ? 
Spirit.    All  goes  still  to  our  delight  : 

Either  come,  or  else  refuse,  refuse. 
Hecate.   Now  I'm  furnish'd  for  the  flight. 

Fire.    Hark,  hark  !  the  cat  sings  a  brave  treble  in  her  own  language. 
Hecate.    \Going  up.^    Now  I  go,  now  I  fly, 

Malkin  my  sweet  spirit  and  I. 

O,  what  a  dainty  pleasure  'tis 

To  ride  in  the  air 

When  the  Moon  shines  fair. 

And  sing  and  dance,  and  toy  and  kiss  ! 

Over  woods,  high  rocks,  and  mountains, 

Over  seas,  our  mistress'  fountains. 

Over  steeples,  towers,  and  turrets. 

We  fly  by  night,  'mongst  troops  of  spirits  : 

No  ring  of  bells  to  our  ears  sounds, 

No  howls  of  wolves,  no  yelps  of  hounds  ; 

No,  not  the  noise  of  water's  breach. 

Or  cannon's  throat,  our  height  can  reach. 
Voices  above.   No  ring  of  bells,  &c. 


Act  III.,  Scene  6. 

P.  78.     Who  can  now  want  the  thought,  hozo  monstrous 
It  was  for  Malcolm  and  for  Donalbain 

To  kill  their  gracious  father ?  —  The  original  reads  "Who 
cannot  want  the  thought,"  &c.  This  gives  a  sense  just  the  opposite  of 
what  was  manifestly  intended.  Keightley  proposes  "  We  cannot  want 
the  thought";  which  would  yield  the  right  sense  indeed,  but  at  the 
cost  of  too  much  force  and  point  of  expression.  The  Edinburgh  Re- 
vieiv,  July,  1869,  undertakes  to  vindicate  the  old  reading  by  showing 
that  cannot  want  was,  and  still  is,  often  used  in  the  sense  of  cannot 
lack  or  cannot  be  without.  This  is  very  true,  but  I  think  it  quite  misses 
the  point  ;  and  I  am  sure  it  is  no  more  than  we  all  knew  before.  The 
reading  in  the  text  was  proposed  by  Cartwright,  but  occurred  to  me 
independentlv. 

P.  79-  The  son  of  Duncan, 

Fro7n  whom  this  tyrant  holds  the  due  of  birth. 
Lives  in  the  English  Court.  —  The  original  has  Soi/nes  instead 
of  son.     Corrected  by  Theobald. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  I49 

P.  79.    Yi^t^  from,  our  feasts  and  ba7iqiiets  bloody  knives  ; 

Do  faithful  homage,  and  receive  free  honours.  ■ —  So  Lettsom. 
The  original  has  Free  instead  of  Keep.  Malone  proposed,  and  Rann 
adopted,  "  Our  feasts  and  banquets /rtv  from  bloody  knives." 

P.  79.  .4nd  this  report 

Hath  so  exasperate  the  King,  that  he,  &c.  ^  The  original  reads 
"  exasperate  their  King."     Corrected  by  Hanmer. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  i. 

P.  80.  Harpy  (•;■?> J- ;  'tis  time,  'tis  time. — The  original  has  Harpier, 
the  word  having  probably  been  written  Harpie.  Of  course  it  stands 
for  some  animal,  real  or  fabulous,  which  is  supposed  to  be  serving  the 
Witches  as  a  familiar,  and  giving  them  a  signal.  But  I  think  there 
was  no  real  animal  so  called  ;  and  the  Poet  most  likely  had  in  mind 
the  harpies  of  Virgil.     The  correction  was  proposed  by  Steevens. 

P.  80.     Toad,  that  under  the  cold  stone 

Days  and  niglits  hast  thirty-one,  &ic.  — The  old  text  is  with- 
out the,  which  was  supplied  by  Rowe. 

P.  81.     Witches'  mum>ny  ;  maw  and  gulf 

Of  the  ravin  salt-sea  shark.  —  Instead  of  ravin,  the  original 
has  ravin'd,  which  does  not  naturally  give  the  right  sense.  The 
correction  was  suggested  to  me  by  a  passage  in  A  IPs  Well,  iii.  2  : 
"  Better  'twere  I  met  the  ravin  lion  when  he  roar'd  with  sharp  con- 
straint of  hunger."  I  have  since  found  that  Mason  had  proposed  the 
same  correction,  and  referred  to  the  same  passage  in  support  of  it. 
Probably  the  Poet  wrote  ravine,  and  here,  as  often,  final  e  and  final  d 
were  confounded.     See  foot-note  6. 

P.  82.  Enter  VL¥.c.\T\l.  —  Here  the  original  has  the  stage-direction, 
"  Enter  Ilecat,  and  the  other  three  Witches."  It  is  not  easy  to  say 
positively  what  this  means ;  but  the  probability  is,  that  in  Middleton's 
ordering  of  the  matter  Hecate  came  with  three  ordinary  witches  to  aid 
the  Weird  Sisters  in  the  performance  of  their  Satanic  ritual.  The 
Clarendon  Editors  print  "  Enter  Hecate  to  the  other  three  Witches" 
thus  substituting  to  for  and. 


150  MACBETH. 

P.  82.  Music  and  a  Song  :  Black  Spirits,  dr'c.  —  Here,  again,  as 
in  iii.  5,  the  original  merely  indicates  the  song  by  printing  the  first 
words  of  it.  And  here,  again,  I  subjoin  the  song  as  it  stands  in  77ii- 
Witch  : 

Black  spirits  and  white,  red  spirits  and  gray, 
Mingle,  mingle,  mingle,  you  that  mingle  may  ! 

Firedrake,  Puckey,  made  it  lucky; 

Liard,  Robin,  you  must  bob  in. 
Round,  around,  around,  about,  about! 
All  ill  come  running  in,  all  good  keep  out! 

P.  83.  Though  the  treasure 

Of  Nature's  germens  tumble  all  together,  &.z.  —  The  original 
has  "Natures  Gennaine."  But  the  plural  is  evidently  required  ;  and 
we  have  the  same  spelling  of  germens  in  King  Lear,  iii.  2  :  "  Cracke 
Natures  moulds,  zS\.ger}naines  spill  at  once  that  makes  ingratefuU  Man." 

P.  85.    Rebellion's  head  rise  never,  till  the  wood 

Of  Birtiain  rise,  &c. —  So  Hanmer  and  Collier's  second  folio. 
The  original  has  '■'Rebellious  dead,  rise  never,"  &c. 

P.  86.    Thy  crown  does  sear  fnine  eyeballs. —  And  thy  air. 

Thou  other  gold-bound  brow,  is  like  the  first.  —  The  original 
has  hair  instead  of  air.  The  correction  is  Johnson's.  The  Poet  else- 
where uses  air  for  look  or  appearance.  A  family  likeness  is  evidently 
the  thing  meant ;  and  hair  is  not  general  enough  for  that.  See  foot- 
note 25. 

P.  86.    Horrible  sight !     Nay,  now  I  see  ''tis  true  ; 

For  the  blood-bolter' d  Banquo,  &c.  —  So  Pope.  The  original  is 
without  Ay?i'.     Steevens  inserted  .~ly. 

P.  88.    This  deed  I'll  do  before  this  purpose  cool  : 

But  no  more  sights! — This  accords  with  Macbeth's  exclama- 
tion, a  little  before,  at  the  vision  of  Banquo  and  his  descendants : 
"  Horrible  sight !  "  Notwithstanding,  much  fault  has  Ijeen  found  with 
sights.  Collier's  second  folio  changes  it  io  flights,  referring  to  the  flight 
of  Macduff.  White  substitutes  sprites.  Both  changes,  it  seems  to  me, 
impair  the  poetry  without  bettering  the  sense  ;  and  sprites  is  particu- 
larly unhappy. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  15  I 


Act  IV.,  Scene  2. 

P.  89.    But  cruel  are  the  times,  when  we  are  traitors, 

And  do  not  know't  ourselves.  —  So  Hanmer  and  Collier's  sec- 
ond folio.     The  original  has  "  not  know  ourselves." 

P.  89.    But  float  upon  a  wild  and  violent  sea 

Each  way  it  moves.  —  So  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel.  The  original  has 
"  Each  way,  and  move  "  /  out  of  which  it  is  not  easy  to  make  any  thing. 
Theobald  printed  "  Each  way  and  wave;'  and  Steevens  conjectured 
"■And  each  way  move  ";    but  surely  Daniel's  reading  is  much  the  best. 

P.  91.  Wherefore  should  I  fly  ? 

I've  done  no  harm.  —  Instead  of  Wherefore,  the  old  text  has 
Whither,  which  does  not  suit  the  context  at  all.  Lettsom  proposes 
Why. 

P.  92.  Thou  liest,  thou  shag-\izxr' 6.  villain  !  —  The  original  has  "  thou 
shagge-ear' dN\\\zxa&r  Doubtless,  as  Dyce  notes,  ear'd  is  "  a  corrup- 
tion of  hear'd,  which  is  an  old  spelling  of  hair'dP  And  he  fully  sub- 
stantiates this  by  quotations. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  3. 

P.  92.    Hold  fast  the  mortal  sword ;  and  like  good  men 

Bestride  our  down-fall'n  birtJidom. — The  original  has  "our 
doivnfall  Birthdome." 

P.  93.  I'm  young;  but  something 

You  ?nay  deserve  of  him  through  me.  —  The  original  has  dis- 
cerne  instead  of  deserve.     Corrected  by  Theobald. 

P.  94.  Wear  thou  thy  wrongs. 

Thy  title  is  affeer'd !  —  So  Malone  and  Collier's  second  folio. 
The  original  has  "  The  Title,  is  affear'd." 

P.  98.  Whither  indeed,  before  thy  here-approach,  &c.  — The  original 
has  they  instead  of  thy.      Corrected  in  ftie  second  folio. 

P.  103.  This  Xyxvit  goes  manly . 

Come,  go  wc  to  the  King.  —  The  original  has  time  instead  of 
tune.     Corrected  by  Rowe- 


152  MACBETH. 


Act  v.,  Scene  i. 

P.  105.    Doct.     You  see,  her  eyes  are  open. 

Gent.  Ay,  but  their  sense  is  shut.  — The  original  has  "  theii 
sense  are  shut."  Doubtless  an  accidental  repetition  from  the  line 
above.      Rowe's  correction. 

Act  v.,  Scene  2. 

P.  108.    He  cannot  buckle  liis  distemper'' d  zovx%& 

Within  the  belt  of  rule.  ■ —  So  Walker  and  Collier's  second  folio. 
The  old  text  has  "  distemper'd  cause.'''  As  Macbeth  is  said  to  be  act- 
ing like  a  madman,  or  going  wild  and  crazy  in  his  course,  there  need,  I 
think,  be  no  scruple  of  the  correction. 

Act  v..  Scene  3. 

P.  no.  This  push 

Will  chair  me  ever,  or  dis-seat  me  now.  —  So  Percy  and  Col- 
lier's second  folio.  The  original  reads  "  Will  cheere  me  ever,  or  dis- 
eate  me  now."  The  second  folio  changes  dis-eate  to  disease.  But  the 
reading  thus  given  seems  to  me  very  tame  and  unsuited  to  the  occasion. 
Chair  is  often  used  for  throne ;  and  Macbeth  may  well  think  that  the 
present  assault  will  either  confirm  his  tenure  of  the  throne,  or  oust  him 
from  it  entirely. 

P.  no.    I  have  lived  long  enough  :  my  w^y  of  life 

Is  falPn  into  the  sere,  the  yellow  leaf.  —  Collier's  second  folio 
has  "  my  Alay  of  life  " ;  and  so  Johnson  proposed  to  read.  This  read- 
ing would  imply  Macbeth  to  be  a  young  man,  which  he  is  not,  and  to 
be  struck  with  premature  old  age,  which  cannot  be  his  meaning.  As 
Gifford  says,  "  way  of  life  "  is  "  a  simple  periphrasis  for  lifeP  Macbeth 
is  in  the  autumn  of  life,  is  verging  upon  old  age,  the  winter  of  life  ;  for 
such  is  the  meaning  of  "the  sere,  the  yellow  leaf";  and  what  he  here 
laments  so  pathetically  is,  that  his  old  age  cannot  have  the  comforts, 
honours,  friendships  which  naturally  attend  it,  and  are  needful,  to  make 
it  supportable.  ♦ 

p.  III.  Cure  her  of  that  : 

Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseased?  —  So  the  second 
folio.     The  first  omits  her. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  153 

P.  III.    Cleanse  the  stuff"' d  bosom  of  that  perilous  grief 

Which  weighs  upon  the  heart.  —  So  Collier's  second  folio.  The 
old  text  has  stuffe  instead  of  grief.  This  jingling  repetition  has  been, 
as  indeed  it  well  might  be,  an  offence  to  t'.ie  editors  generally,  and 
other  changes  have  been  proposed,  the  best  of  which  is,  "  Cleanse  the 
foul  bosom,"  by  Steevens.  Some,  however,  reject  grief,  as  not  har- 
monizing with  cleanse  and  bosom  ;  but  Dr.  C.  M.  Ingleby,  who  is  cer- 
tainly not  over-favourable  to  corrections  from  that  source,  strongly 
approves  of  it ;  and  his  high  sanction  prevails  with  me  to  adopt  it.  He 
comments  on  it  as  follows  :  "  I  am  so  heterodox  as  to  think  this  a  fine 
reading.  I  do  so,  first,  because  it  restores  perfect  sense  and  beauty  to 
what  I  believe  to  be  a  vile  corruption :  second,  because  stuff  is  an  easy 
misprint  for  grieff,  or  griefe,  in  old  writing :  third,  because  grief,  in  the 
language  of  the  old  medical  writers,  did  weigh  on  the  heart,  and  stuff 
the  bosom."  And  he  makes  this  good,  apparently,  by  quotations  ;  add- 
ing withal,  that  here  "grief  is  sickness,  malady";  so  that  the  meaning 
is  not  "  cleanse  the  bosom  oi grief,  but  of  a  grief,  that  is,  a  sickness." 

P.  112.     What  rhubarb,  senna,  or  ^vhat purgative  drug. 

Would  scour  these  English  hence  ?  —  Instead  of  senna,  the 
original  has  Cyme,  which  is  not,  and  never  was,  the  English  name  of 
any  drug.     The  correction  is  from  the  fourth  folio. 


Act  v..  Scene  4. 

P.  113.    For,  where  there  is  advantage  to  be  ta'en. 

Both  more  and  less  have  given  him  the  revolt.  —  So  \Yalker. 
The  original  reads  "advantage  to  be  given."  Collier's  second  folio 
reads  "  advantage  to  he  gotten.'^ 


Act  v..  Scene  5. 

P.  114.     The  time  has  been,  my  senses  would  have  quail'd 

7'(9  hear  a  night-shriek.  —  .So  Collier's  second  folio.  The  orig- 
inal reads  "  my  sences  would  have  cool'd" ;  which,  surely,  is  quite  too 
tame  for  the  occasion.  In  Julius  Ccesar,  iv.  3,  we  have  "That  makest 
my  blood  cold''  ;  but  this  is  very  different  from  "  makes  my  senses  cold!' 
Dyce  remarks  that  "  examples  of  the  expression,  setises  quailing,  may 
be  found  in  our  early  \\riters." 


154  MACBETH. 

P.  1 1 5.    /  should  report  that  which  I  'd  say  I  saw. 
But  know  not  how  to  do  doU. 

Macb.  Well,  say  it,  sir.  — The  original 

reads  "which/  say  I  saw,"  and  "Well,  say  sir."     The  first  of  these 
corrections  is  Hanmer's  ;   the  other,  Pope's. 

P.  116.    /pall  i)i  resolution,  and  begin 

To  doubt  tK  equivocation  of  the  Jiend,  &c.  —  The  old  text  has 
"  I  pull  in  resolution."  Johnson  proposed  pall,  which,  as  the  Clarendon 
edition  observes,  "  better  expresses  the  required  sense,  involuntary  loss 
of  heart  and  hope."  Besides,  with  pull,  "  we  must  emphasize  in,  con- 
trary to  the  rhythm  of  the  verse." 

Act  v..  Scene  8. 

P.  120.  And  dainn'd  be  he  that  first  cries  Hold. —The  old  text  has 
him  instead  of  he.     Corrected  l)y  Pope. 

P.  120.  \_Exeunt,  fighting. —In  the  original,  this  stage-direction  is 
immediately  followed,  in  the  next  line,  by  another,  which  is  difficult  to 
explain,  and  is  omitted  in  all  modern  editions  known  to  me  ;  thus  : 
"  Enter  fighting,  and  Macbeth  slaineP  Then  comes  the  stage-direc- 
tion, which  modern  editors  retain,  "■Retreat,  and  Flourish.  Etiter 
with  Drumme  and  Colours,  -Malcolm,  Sey-cvard,"  &c.  What  makes 
the  matter  still  more  perplexing  is,  that,  nineteen  lines  further  on,  the 
original,  without  any  intervening  exit,  has  the  stage-direction,  "  Enter 
Macduffe;  with  Macbeths  head."  The  likeliest  explanation  seems  to 
be,  that  the  play  originally  ended  with  "  Exeimt,  fighting,''  and  that 
what  follows  was  afterwards  tacked  on  by  Middleton,  in  order  to  gratify 
the  audience  with  more  fighting,  and  with  the  sight  of  Macbeth's  head 
on  a  pole. 


OTHELLO,    THE    MOOR   OF   VENICE. 


ENTERED  at  the  Stationers'  by  Thomas  Walkley,  '-under 
the  hands  of  Sir  George  Buck  and  of  the  Wardens,"  Octo- 
ber 6,  162 1,  and  published  in  quarto  the  next  year.  It  was  also 
included  in  the  folio  collection  of  1623,  and  was  printed  again  in 
quarto  in  1630.  These  three  copies  diflfer  more  or  less  among 
themselves  :  in  particular,  the  folio  has  a  number  of  passages, 
amounting  in  all  to  some  hundred  and  sixty  lines,  that  are  want- 
ing in  the  quarto  of  1622.  On  the  other  hand,  the  latter  has  a 
few  lines  that  are  wanting  in  the  folio  ;  while  the  quarto  of  1630 
seems  to  have  been  made  up  from  the  other  two.  On  the  whole, 
the  text  has  reached  us  in  a  pretty  fair  condition ;  though  there 
are  a  few  passages  where  the  reading  stands  much  in  question, 
and  gives  little  hope  of  being  altogether  cleared  from  doubt. 

Until  a  recent  date,  this  great  drama  was  commonly  supposed 
to  have  been  among  the  latest  of  the  Poet's  writing.  But,  within 
the  last  fifty  years,  two  alleged  manuscript  records  have  been 
produced  which  would  quite  upset  the  old  belief.  One  of  these 
was  given  by  Collier  from  "  the  Egerton  Papers,"  showing  the 
play  to  have  been  acted  before  Queen  Elizabeth  at  Harefield, 
the  seat  of  Lord-Keeper  Egerton,  in  Augu.s_t,  1602.  The  other, 
purporting  to  be  from  "  the  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,"' 
and  produced  by  Mr.  Peter  Cunningham,  represents  the  piece  to 
have  been  performed  before  the  King  and  Court  at  Whitehall  on 
the  1st  of  November,  1604.  Both  of  these  records,  however, 
have  since  been  set  aside  by  the  highest  authority  as  forgeries. 
So  that  wc  art;  now  thrown  back  upon  the  old  ground ;  our 
earliest  authentic  notice  of  the  play  being  furnished  by  Sir 
Frederic  Madden  from  certain  manuscripts  in  the  British  Mu- 
seum.    It  appears  that  in  the  Spring  of  1610   Louis   Frederic, 


156  OTHELLO,    THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 

Duke  of  Wurtemberg,  visited  England  on  a  diplomatic  mission. 
Among  the  manuscripts  in  question,  is  an  autograph  diary, 
written  in  French,  by  Hans  Jacob  Wurmsser,  who  accompanied 
the  Duke.  The  diary  extends  from  the  i6th  of  March  to  the 
24th  of  July,  1610.  Under  date  of  April  30th,  we  have  the 
following  entry  :  "  Went  to  the  Globe,  the  place  where  comedies 
are  wont  to  be  played  ;  there  the  history  of  the  Moor  of  Venice 
was  represented." 

Two  other  authentic  contemporary  notices  of  the  play  have 
reached  us,  which  ought,  perhaps,  to  be  here  set  down.  The 
first  is  from  the  Accounts  of  Lord  Harrington,  Treasurer  of  the 
Chamber  to  James  the  First:  "Paid  to  John  Heminge,  upon 
the  Council's  warrant,  dated  at  Whitehall,  20th  of  May,  1613, 
for  presenting  before  the  Prince's  Highness,  the  Lady  Elizabeth, 
and  the  Prince  Palatine  Elector,  fourteen  several  plays."  Then, 
among  the  plays  specified  in  the  account,  are  Miuh  Ado,  T/ie 
Tempest,  The  Wintcfs  Tale,  The  Meny  Wives,  and  The  Moor 
of  Venice.  The  other  notice  is  from  an  elegy  on  Richard  Bur- 
bao-e,  the  great  actor  of  the  Globe  company,  who  died  in  1619. 
The  writer  gives  a  list  of  the  principal  characters  in  which  Burbage 
was  distinguished,  and  winds  up  with  the  following : 

But  let  me  not  forget  one  cliiefest  part 
Wherein,  beyond  the  rest,  he  moved  the  heart, — 
The  grievfed  Moor  made  jealous  by  a  slave, 
Who  sent  his  wife  to  fill  a  timeless  grave. 

The  foregoing  account  obviously  concludes  Othello  to  have 
been  written  in  1609  or  early  in  1610.  And  the  internal  evi- 
dence of  style  and  manner  is,  I  think,  in  entire  harmony  with 
that  conclusion;  the  diction,  versification,  and  psychagogic  in- 
wardness being  such  as  to  speak  it  into  close  chronological 
neighbourhood  with  Cyiiibeline  and  Coriolanus.  So  much  is 
this  the  case,  that  Vcrplanck,  writing  while  the  account  of  per- 
formance at  Harefield  was  still  deemed  authentic,  thought  the 
play  must  have  been  rewritten  after  that  date,  and  perhaps  made 
as  different  from  what  it  was  at  first  as  the  finished  Hamlet  was 
from  the  earliest  copy.  —  The  play  has  one  item,  or  seeming 
item,  of  internal  evidence,  which  it  is  not  easy  to  reconcile  with 


OTHELLO,    THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  l$y 

the  earliest  of  the  forecited  notices.  It  is  in  iii.  4,  where  Othello 
says  to  Desdemona, 

A  liberal  hand  :  the  hearts  of  old  gave  hands ; 
But  our  jre7V  Aera/dry  !S  /lands,  not  hearts. 

This  can  hardly  be  taken  otherwise  than  as  an  allusion  to  the 
new  order  of  the  Baronetage  which  was  instituted  by  King  James 
in  161 1  ;  the  figure  of  a  bloody  hand  being  among  the  armorial 
bearings  of  those  who  received  the  new  title.  And  it  is  not  a 
little  remarkable  that,  even  before  the  above-mentioned  forgeries 
were  exposed,  Mr.  Grant  White  still  held  it  certain  that  this 
passage  at  least  must  have  been  written  "  after  the  creation  of 
the  first  baronets."  But,  as  this  would  draw  the  date  of  the 
writing  down  two  years  later  than  we  have  found  it  to  be,  there 
appears  no  way  of  accounting  for  the  passage  but  as  an  after- 
insertion. 

The  tragedy  was  founded  on  one  of  Giraldi  Cinthio's  novels. 
Whether  the  story  was  accessible  to  Shakespeare  in  English  is 
uncertain,  no  translation  of  so  early  a  date  having  been  dis- 
covered. But  we  are  not  without  indications  of  his  having 
known  enough  of  Italian  to  take  the  matter  directly  from  the 
original.  The  Poet  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  borrowed  any 
thing  more  than  a  few  incidents  and  the  outline  of  the  plot ;  the 
character,  passion,  pathos,  and  poetry  being  entirely  his  own. 
The  following  abstract  of  the  tale  will  show  the  nature  and  extent 
of  his  obligations  : 

A  Moorish  captain,  distinguished  for  his  valour  and  conduct, 
was  in  the  service  of  the  Venetian  Republic.  While  living  at 
Venice,  his  noble  qualities  captivated  the  heart  of  a  very  beautiful 
and  virtuous  lady  called  Desdemona.  He  returned  her  love  ; 
and  they  were  married,  against  the  wishes  of  her  friends.  Some 
time  after  the  marriage,  he  was  appointed  to  the  military  com- 
mand of  Cyprus,  and  was  accompanied  thither  by  his  wife.  He 
had  for  his  ensign  a  man  of  a  pleasing  person,  but  a  very  wicked 
heart.  The  ensign  was  also  married,  his  wife  being  a  discreet 
and  handsome  woman,  who  was  much  liked  by  Desdemona ; 
and  the  two  passed  a  good  deal  of  their  time  together.  Both  of 
these  went  with  the  Moor  to   his    command ;    as    did   also    his 


158  OTHELLO,    THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 

lieutenant,  a  man  to  whom  he  was  strongly  attached,  and  who 
was  highly  esteemed  by  Desdemona  for  her  husband's  sake. 
The  ensign  became  enamoured  of  Desdemona ;  but,  on  finding 
he  could  make  no  impression  upon  her,  his  passion  soon  turned 
to  revenge  :  so  he  took  it  into  his  head  that  she  was  in  love  with 
the  lieutenant,  and  determined  to  work  the  ruin  of  them  both  by 
accusing  them  to  the  Moor.  The  Moor  was  so  strong  in  love 
for  his  wife,  and  in  friendship  for  the  lieutenant,  that  the  villain 
knew  he  would  have  to  be  very  cunning  and  artful  in  his  practice, 
else  the  mischief  would  recoil  upon  himself.  After  a  while,  the 
lieutenant  wounded  a  soldier  on  guard,  for  which  he  was  cash- 
iered by  the  Moor ;  and  the  lady,  grieved  at  her  husband's  losing 
so  good  a  friend,  went  to  pleading  for  his  restoration.  There- 
upon the  ensign  began  to  work  his  craft,  by  insinuating  to  the 
Moor  that  her  solicitations  were  for  no  good  cause.  On  being 
required  to  speak  more  plainly,  he  directly  accused  her  of  pre- 
ferring the  lieutenant  to  her  husband  on  account  of  the  latter's 
complexion.  The  Moor  then  told  him  he  ought  to  have  his 
tongue  cut  out  for  thus  attacking  the  lady's  honour,  and 
demanded  ocular  proof  of  his  accusation.  The  ensign  then 
began  a  course  of  downright  lying,  but  still  managed  so  craftily 
as  to  draw  the  other  more  and  more  into  his  toils,  and  finally 
engaged  to  furnish  the  proof  required. 

Now  Desdemona  often  went  to  the  ensign's  house,  and  spent 
some  time  with  his  wife,  taking  with  her  a  handkerchief  which 
the  Moor  had  given  her,  and  which,  being  delicately  embroidered 
in  the  Moorish  style,  was  much  prized  by  them  both.  The  en- 
sign had  a  little  girl  that  Desdemona  was  very  fond  of;  and  one 
day,  while  she  was  caressing  the  child,  he  stole  away  the  hand- 
kerchief so  adroitly  that  she  did  not  perceive  the  act.  His  next 
device  was  to  leave  the  handkerchief  on  the  lieutenant's  bolster ; 
where  the  latter  soon  found  it,  and,  knowing  it  to  be  Desdemona's, 
went  to  return  it  to  her.  The  Moor,  hearing  his  knock,  and  going 
to  the  window,  asked  who  was  there ;  whereupon  the  lieutenant, 
fearing  his  anger,  ran  away  without  answering.  The  ensign  was 
very  glad  of  this  incident,  as  it  gave  him  more  matter  to  work 
with ;  and  he  contrived  one  day  to  have  an  interview  with  the 
lieutenant  in  a  place  where  the  Moor  could  see  them.     In  the 


OTHELLO,  THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.       1 59 

course  of  the  talk,  which  was  on  a  different  subject,  he  laughed 
much,  and  by  his  gestures  made  as  if  he  were  greatly  surprised 
at  the  other's  disclosures.  The  interview  over,  and  the  Moor 
asking  what  had  passed  between  them,  the  ensign  then,  after 
much  feigning  of  reluctance,  said  the  lieutenant  had  boasted  of 
his  frequent  meetings  with  Desdemona,  and  how,  the  last  time 
he  was  with  her,  she  had  given  him  the  handkerchief.  Shortly 
after,  the  Moor  asked  his  wife  for  the  handkerchief;  and,  as  she 
could  not  find  it,  this  strengthened  his  suspicions  into  convic- 
tion :  still,  before  proceeding  to  extremities,  he  craved  the  further 
proof  of  seeing  the  handkerchief  in  the  lieutenant's  possession. 
So,  while  the  lieutenant's  mistress  was  sitting  at  the  window  of 
his  house,  and  copying  the  embroidery,  the  ensign  pointed  her 
out  to  the  Moor.  The  two  then  arrange  for  killing  both  the 
parties  :  the  ensign  sets  upon  the  lieutenant  in  the  night,  and 
wounds  him  ;  but  he  fights  manfully,  and  raises  an  alarm,  which 
draws  a  crowd  to  the  spot,  the  ensign  himself  appearing  among 
them,  as  if  roused  by  the  cry.  Upon  hearing  of  this,  the  lady 
speaks  her  grief  for  the  lieutenant ;  which  so  enrages  the  Moor, 
that  he  forthwith  contrives  her  death.  The  ensign  hides  him- 
self in  a  closet  of  her  chamber ;  at  the  time  appointed  he  makes 
a  noise ;  Desdemona  rises  and  goes  to  see  what  it  is,  and  he 
then  beats  her  to  death  with  a  stocking  full  of  sand ;  the  Moor 
meanwhile  accusing  her  of  the  crime,  and  she  protesting  her 
innocence.  This  done,  they  pull  down  the  ceiling  upon  her, 
and  run  out  crying  that  the  house  is  falling:  people  rush  in,  and 
find  her  dead  under  the  beams,  no  one  suspecting  the  truth  of 
the  matter.  But  the  Moor  soon  becomes  distracted  with  remorse. 
Hating  the  sight  of  the  ensign,  he  degrades  him,  and  drives  him 
out  of  his  company ;  whereupon  the  villain  goes  to  plotting 
revenge  upon  him.  He  reveals  to  the  lieutenant  the  truth  about 
the  lady's  death,  omitting  his  own  share  in  it;  the  lieutenant 
accuses  the  Moor  to  the  .Senate,  and  calls  in  the  ensign  as  his 
witness.  The  Moor  is  imprisoned,  banished,  and  finally  put  to 
death  by  his  wife's  kindred.  The  ensign,  returning  to  Venice, 
and  continuing  at  his  old  practices,  is  taken  up,  put  to  the 
torture,  and  racked  so  violently,  that  he  soon  dies. 

Such,   in   l)rief,  are  tiic  leadiui:  incidents  of  the  novel.      Of 


l60       OTHELLO,  THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE. 

course  the  parts  of  Othello  and  Desdemona,  lago  and  Emilia, 
Cassio  and  Bianca,  were  suggested  by  what  the  Poet  found  in 
the  tale.  The  novel  has  nothing  answering  to  the  part  of  Rod- 
erigo ;  nor  did  it  furnish  any  of  the  names  except  Desdemona. 
Some  of  lago's  characteristic  traits  may  be  said  to  have  been 
taken  from  the  ensign :  but  this  is  about  the  whole  of  the  Poet's 
obligation  in  the  matter  of  character.  The  tale  describes  the 
Moor  as  valiant,  prudent,  and  capable,  Desdemona  as  virtuous 
and  beautiful ;  and  states  that  she  loved  the  Moor  for  his  noble- 
ness of  character,  and  that  her  family  was  much  opposed  to  the 
match.  These  are  all  the  liints  which  Shakespeare  had  towards 
the  mighty  delineations  of  character  in  this  play,  as  distinguished 
from  the  incidents  of  the  plot.  For,  as  Mr.  White  remarks,  "  of 
the  complex  psychological  structure  of  the  various  personages, 
and  of  their  harmonious  mental  and  moral  action,  there  is  not 
even  a  inidimentary  hint  in  the  story."  It  is  to  be  observed, 
also,  that  Roderigo  serves  as  a  most  effective  occasion  in  the 
drama ;  lago's  most  inward  and  idiomatic  traits  being  made  to 
transpire  upon  him ;  and  this  in  such  a  way  as  to  lift  the  charac- 
ters of  Othello  and  Desdemona  into  a  much  higher  region,  and 
invest  them  with  a  far  deeper  and  more  pathetic  interest. 

The  island  of  Cyprus,  where  the  scene  of  the  drama  is  chiefly 
laid,  became  subject  to  the  Republic  of  Venice,  and  was  first 
garrisoned  with  Venetian  troops,  in  1471.  After  that  time,  the 
only  attempt  ever  made  upon  that  island  by  the  Turks  was  under 
Selim  the  Second,  in  1570.  It  was  then  invaded  by  a  powerful 
force,  and  conquered  in  1571  ;  since  which  time  it  has  continued 
a  part  of  the  Turkish  Empire.  The  play  represents  that  there 
was  a  junction  of  the  Turkish  fleet  at  Rhodes  for  the  purpose  of 
invading  Cyprus  ;  that  the  fleet  started  towards  Cyprus,  went 
back  to  Rhodes,  there  met  another  squadron,  and  then  resumed 
its  course  to  Cypnis.  These  are  historical  facts,  and  took  place 
when  Mustapha,  Selim's  general,  attacked  Cyprus,  in  May,  1570; 
which  is  therefore  the  true  period  of  the  action. 


OTHELLO,.  THE    MOOR   OF    VENICE. 


PERSONS   REPRESENTED. 


The  Duke  of  Venice. 
Brabantio,  a  Senator. 
Two  other  Senators. 
Gratiano,  Brother  to  Brabantio. 
LODOVICO,  Kinsman  to  Brabantio. 
Othello,  a  noble  Moor. 
Cassio,  his  Lieutenant. 
I  ago,  his  Ancient. 
RODERIGO,  a  Venetian  Gentleman. 
Officers,  Gentlemen,  Messengers, 


MONTANO,  Governor  of  Cyprus. 
A  Clown,  Servant  to  Othello. 
A  Herald. 

Desdemona,  Othello's  Wife,  Daugh- 
ter to  Brabantio. 
Emilia,  Wife  to  lago. 
BlANCA,  Mistress  to  Cassio. 

Musicians,  Sailors,  Attendants,  &c. 


Scene.  —  For  the  First  Act,  in  Venice ;  during  the  rest  of  the  Play,  at  a 
Seaport  in  Cyprus. 


ACT    I. 

Scene  I.  —  Venice     A  Street. 

Enter  Roderigo  and  Iago. 

Rod.    Tush,  never  tell  me  ;   I  take  it  much  unkindly 
That  tliou,  Iago,  who  hast  had  my  purse 
As  if  the  strings  were  thine,  shouldst  know  of  this.i-^t<v|»w-n>-^'-" 

1  The  intended  elopement.  Roderigo  has  been  suing  for  Desdemona's 
hand,  employing  Iago  to  aid  him  in  his  suit,  and  paying  his  service  in  ad- 
vance. The  play  opens  pat  upon  her  elopement  with  the  Moor,  and  Rod- 
erigo presumes  Iago  to  have  been  in  the  secret  of  their  intention. 


1 62  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

lago.    '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  h'im  in  thy  hate. 

lago.    Despise  me,  if  I  do  not.     Three  great  ones  of  the 
city, 

In  personal  suit  to  make  me  his  lieutenant, cju-U^'-^-^^J^-Q. 

Oft  capp'd  to  him  ;-  and,  by  the  faith  of  man, 

I  know  my  price,  I'm  worth  no  worse  a  place  : 

But  he,  as  loving  his  own  pride  and  purposes,  ^v.«>*Jt;*^    ■^t^uxLi 

Evades  them,  with  a  bombast  circumstance  "^  J  i 

Horribly  stuff 'd  with  epithets  of  war  ; 

And,  in  conclusion,  nonsuits  my  mediators; 

For,  Certes,  says  he,  Pve  already  chose 

My  officer.     And  what  was  he  ? 

Forsooth,  a  great  arithmetician. 

One  Michael  Cassio,  a  Florentine,  t^j.^,^  C  /'^•<J2*-'^^a-<»-  ) 

A  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  wight  ■,'^  it 

2  It  appears  that  to  cap  was  used  for  a  salutation  of  respect,  made  by  tak- 
ing off  the  cap.  So  explained  by  Coles  in  his  Dictionary  :  "  To  cap  a  per- 
son, coram  aliquo  caput  aperire,  7tudare ;  to  uncover  the  head  before  any 
one."  And  Shakespeare  uses  half-cap  for  a  cold  or  a  slight  salutation.  So 
in  Timon  of  Athens,  ii.  2 :  "With  certain  half-caps  and  cold-moving  nods 
they  froze  me  into  silence." 

3  A  bombastic  circumlocution ;  or  a  speech  strutting  through  a  circum- 
stantial detail  with  big  words  and  sounding  phrases. 

*  In  is  sometimes  equivalent  to  on  account  of.  See  page  59,  note  7. — 
Wight  was  applied  indifferently  to  persons  of  either  sex;  often  with  a  dash 
of  humour  or  satire.  lago  seems  to  be  rather  fond  of  the  term  :  he  has  it 
again  in  ii.  i :  "  She  was  a  wight,  if  ever  such  wight  were,"  &c.  In  the  text, 
he  probably  alludes  to  Cassio's  amorous  intrigue  with  Bianca,  which  comes 
out  so  prominent  in  the  course  of  the  play.  —  Cassio  is  sneeringly  called  "a 
great  arithmetician  "  and  a  "  counter-caster,"  in  allusion  to  the  pursuits  for 
which  the  Florentines  were  distinguished.  The  point  is  thus  stated  by 
Charles  Armitage  Browne :  "  A  soldier  from  Florence,  famous  for  its 
bankers  throughout  Europe,  and  for  its  invention  of  bills  of  exchange,  book- 
keeping, and  every  thing  connected  with  a  counting-house,  might  well  be 
ridiculed  for  his  promotion  by  an  lago  in  this  manner." 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  1 63 

That  never  set  a  squadron  m  the  field, 

Nor  the  division  of  a  battle  ^  knows       '  ~vw~^-rN*^  ^ 

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  tli'  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 

By  debitor-and-creditor  :  "  this  counter-caster. 

He,  in  good  time,  must  his  lieutenant  be,  "^    cl*j^^- 

And  I  —  God  bless  the  mark  !  —  his  Moorship's  ancient.^  '.(.<?-*/"• 

Rod.    By  Heaven,  I  rather  would  have  been  his  hangman. 

Lrgo.    Why,  there's  no  remedy  ;   'tis  the  curse  of  service. 
Preferment  goes  by  letter  and  affection. 
And  not  by  old  gradation,  where  each  second 
Stood  heir  to  th'  first.     Now,  sir,  be  judge  yourself, 
Whether  I  in  any  just  term  am  affined ^ 

^  The  arrangement,  ordering,  or  marshalling  of  troops  for  a  battle. 

6  Theoric  for  theory ;  what  may  be  learned  from  books.  See  vol.  xii. 
page  9,  note  7.  —  "  The  toged  consuls  "  are  the  civil  governors  ;  so  called  by 
lago  in  opposition  to  the  warlike  qualifications  of  which  he  has  been  speak- 
ing. There  may  be  an  allusion  to  the  adage,  "  Cedant  arma  togas."  —  Pro- 
pose, probably,  in  the  sense  of  prate  ox  propound.     See  vol.  iv.  p.  196,  n.  i. 

■^  By  a  mere  accountant,  a  keeper  of  debt  and  credit.  lago  means  that  Cas- 
sio,  though  knowing  no  more  of  war  than  men  of  the  gown,  as  distinguished 
from  men  of  the  sword,  has  yet  outsai/ed  him  in  military  advancement.  In 
nautical  language,  being  be-lee'd  by  another  is  the  opposite  of  having  the 
windward  of  him  ;  which  latter  is  a  position  of  great  advantage.  See  vol. 
xvi.  page  321,  note  2.  —  Again,  he  calls  Cassio  "  this  counter-caster y  in  allu- 
sion to  the  counters  formerly  used  in  reckoning  up  accounts. 

8  Ancient  is  an  old  corruption  of  ensign  ;  used  both  for  the  flag  and  for 
the  bearer  of  it.  See  vol.  xi.  page  105,  note  8,  —  "God  bless  the  mark"  is 
an  old  phrase  of  prayer  or  deprecation,  meaning  May  God  avert,  or  invert, 
the  omen  :  used  with  reference  to  any  thing  that  was  regarded  as  a  bad  sign 
or  token.     See  vol.  xiii.  page  191,  note  10. 

3  Whether  I  stand  within  any  such  terms  of  affinity  or  relationship  to  the 
Moor,  as  that  I  am  bound  to  love  him. 


164  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

To  love  the  Moor. 

Rod.  I  would  not  follow  him,  then. 

lago.    O,  sir,  content  you  ; 
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,  .^^u^^*--^/  ( 

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. 1°     Others  there  are. 
Who,  trimm'd  in  forms  and  \'isages  of  duty. 
Keep  yet  their  hearts  attending  on  themselves  ; 
And,  throwing  but  shows  of  service  on  their  lords. 
Well  thrive  by  them,  and,  when  they've  lined  their  coats. 
Do  themselves  homage  :  these  fellows  have  some  soul ; 
And  such  a  one  do  I  profess  myself.     For,  sir. 
It  is  as  sure  as  you  are  Roderigo,  • /^ 

Were  I  the  Moor,  I  would  not  be  lago  i  n     ■ 
In  following  him,  I  follow  but  myself; 
Heaven  is  my  judge,  not  I  for  love  and  duty, 
But  seeming  so,  for  my  peculiar  end  : 
For,  when  my  outward  action  doth  demonstrate 
The  native  act  and  figure  of  my  heart 
(in  complement  externji-  'tis  not  long  after 


('.  I  "• 


w  Knave  is  here  used  for  servant,  but  with  a  sly  mixture  of  contempt. 
The  usage  was  very  common. 

11  An  instance,  perhaps,  of  would  for  should ;  and,  if  so,  the  meaning 
may  be,  "  \v'^ere  I  in  the  Moor's  place,  I  should  be  quite  another  man  than 
I  am."  Or,  "  if  I  had  the  Moor's  nature,  if  I  were  such  an  honest  dunce  as 
he  is,  I  should  be  just  a  fit  subject  for  men  that '  have  some  soul '  to  practise 
upon."  Perhaps  lago  is  purposely  mixing  some  obscurity  in  his  talk  in 
order  to  mystify  the  gull. 

12  "  Complement  extern"  is  external  completeness  or  accomplishment. 
lago  scorns  to  have  his  inward  and  his  outward  keep  touch  together,  as 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  165 

But  I  will  wear  my  heart  upon  my  sleeve 
For  daws  to  peck  at.    I  am  not  what  I  am.i-' 

Rod.    What  a  full  fortune  does  the  thick-lijis^we, 
If  he  can  carry 't  thus  !  '■*  -^    ' 

lago.  Call  up  her  father, 

Rouse  him.     Make  after  him,  poison  his  delight, 
Proclaim  him  in  the  streets  \   incense  her  kinsmen  : 
And,  though  he  in  a  fertile  climate  dwell, 
Plague  him  with  flies  ;  though  that  his  joy  be  joy, 
Yet  throw  such  changes  of  vexation  on't, 
As  it  may  lose  some  colour. 

Rod.    Here  is  her  father's  house  ;  I'll  call  aloud.      /        ,  /     / 

lago.    Do  ;  with  like  timorous  accent  and  dire  yell'  1 

As  when,  by  night  and  negligence/^  the  fire      '^*-«^  ^' 
Is  spied  in  populous  cities. 

Rod.    What,  ho,  Brabantio  !  Signior  Brabantio,  ho  ! 

being  the  next  thing  to  wearing  himself  wrong  side  out.  The  sense  of  the 
whole  passage  is,  "  When  I  shall  become  such  a  fool  as  to  make  my  external 
behaviour  a  true  inde.x  of  my  inward  thought  and  purpose,  I  shall  soon 
proceed  to  the  further  folly  of  putting  my  heart  on  the  outside  for  other  fools 
to  sport  with."  In  illustration  of  the  text,  Walker  aptly  quotes  the  following 
from  Tourneur's  Revenger's  Tragedy  : 

The  old  duke, 
Thinking  my  outward  shape  and  inward  heart 
Are  cut  out  of  one  piece,  (for  he  that  prates  his  secrets. 
His  heart  stands  o'  th'  outside,)  hires  me  by  price. 

13  lago  probably  means  "  I  am  not  what  I  seem  ;  but  to  speak  thus  would 
not  smack  so  much  of  the  peculiar  dialect  with  which  he  loves  to  practise 
on  the  dupe. 

1*  How  fortunate  he  is,  or  how  strong  in  fortune,  if  he  can  hold  out 
against  such  practice.  Similar  language  occurs  in  Cymbeline  :  "  Our  pleas- 
ure his,  full  fort  II  lie  doth  confine."  And  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  :  "The 
imperious  show  of  \\\e  full-fortuned  Coesar."  —  Of  course  owe  is  used  in  the 
old  sense  oi  own  or  possess. 

15  That  is,  in  the  time  of  night  and  negligence ;  a  very  common  form  of 
expression.  —  Timorous  was  sometimes  used,  a.s  fearful  still  is,  for  that 
which  frightens.  Old  dictionaries  explain  it  "  fearful,  horridus,  formido- 
losus." 


1 66  OTHELLO,  ACT  t. 

lago.    Awake  !   what,    ho,   Brabantio  !     thieves  !    thieves  ! 
thieves  ! 
Look  to  your  house,  your  daughter,  and  your  bags  ! 
Thieves  !  thieves  ! 

Brabantio  appears  above,  at  a  jvindow. 

Bra.    What  is  the  reason  of  this  terrible  summons  ? 
What  is  the  matter  there  ? 

Rod.    Signior,  is  all  your  family  within  ? 

lago.    Are  your  doors  lock'tl  ? 

Bra.  ^Vhy,  wherefore  ask  you  this  ? 

lago.    Zounds,  sir,  you're  robb'd  !  for  shame,  put  on  your 
gown  !      , 
Your  heart  is  burst, ^"^  you  have  lost  half  your  soul : 
Even  now,  now,  very  now,  an  old  black  ram 
Is  tupping  your  white  ewe.     Arise,  arise  ! 

Awake  the  snortjng  citizens  with  the  bell,  ■  cu  •ft-"-'' -*f>' 

Or  else  the  Devil'"  will  make  a  grandsire  of  you. 
Arise,  I  say. 

Bra.  What,  have  you  lost  your  wits  ? 

Rod.    Most  reverend  signior,  do  you  know  my  voice? 

Bra.    Not  I  :   what  are  you? 

Rod.    My  name  is  Roderigo. 

Bra.  The  worser  welcome  : 

I've  charged  thee  not  to  haunt  about  my  doors  : 
In  honest  plainness  thou  hast  heard  me  say 
My  daughter  is  not  for  thee  ;  and  now,  in  madness,  ^    , 

Being  full  of  supper  and  (distempering  draughts,'^  '  /ft^?'*'^*'''**-*^ 
Upon  malicious  bravery,  dost  thou  come 

ifi  Bu?-st  is  here  used  in  the  sense  oi  broken.     The  usage  was  common. 

1''  Alluding  to  the  imputed  colour  of  the  Devil,  who  was  always  repre- 
sented as  black  ;  and  implying  that  Othello  is  of  the  same  stock  and  com- 
plexion.    See  vol.  iii.  page  127,  note  26. 

18  ''Distempering  draughts  "  is  intoxicating  potations. —  Bravery,  here,  is 
bravado,  insolence,  defiance. 


It'.'^^ 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  1 6/ 

To  Start  my  quiet :  — 

Rod.    Sir,  sir,  sir,  — 

Bra.  —  but  thou  must  needs  be  sure 

My  spirit  and  my  place  have  in  them  power 
To  make  this  bitter  to  thee. 

Rod.  Patience,  good  sir. 

Bi-a.   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. 

Idgo.  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  cover'd  with  a  Barbary  horse  ;  you'll  have  your 
nephews  neigh  to  you  ;  you'll  ha\-e  coursers  for  cousins,  and 
gennets  for  germans.-'' 

Bra.    What  profane  wretch  art  thou  ? 

lago.  I  am  one,  sir,  that  comes  to  tell  you  your  daughter 
and  the  Moor  are  now  making  the  beast  with  two  backs. 

Bra.    Thou  art  a  villain. 

lago.  You  are  —  a  Senator. 

Bra.    This  thou  shalt  answer :   I  know  thee,  Roderigo. 

Rod.    Sir,  I  will  answer  any  thing.     But,  I  beseech  you, 
Ift  be  your  pleasure  and  most  wise  consent. 
As  partly  I  find  it  is,  that  your  fair  daughter. 
At  this  odd-even-^  and  dull  watch  o'  the  night, 
Transported,  with  no  worse  nor  better  guard 


19  "  Mine  is  not  a  lone  house,  where  a  robbery  might  easily  be  committed." 
Grange  is,  strictly,  the  farm  of  a  monastery;  but,  provincially,  any  lone 
house  or  solitary  farm  is  called  &  grange. 

2"  Gennets  is  horses  ;  properly  Spanish  horses,  or  the  breed  called  Barbs. 
—  German  is,  strictly,  brother  ;  but  here  put  for  any  near  kin. 

21  This  odd-even  appears  to  mean  the  interval  between  twelve  at  night 
and  one  in  the  morning. 


1 68  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

But  with  a  knave  of  common  hire,  a  gondoUer,^^  -  cVsa^ut-iy^^M-Ca.^  a^ 

To  the  gross  clasps  of  a  lascivious  Moor, —  S<-<9*t.4^ 

If  this  be  known  to  you,  and  your  allowance, 

We  then  have  done  you  bold  and  saucy  wrongs  ; 

But,  if  you  know  not  this,  my  manners  tell  me 

We  have  your  wrong  rebuke.     Do  not  believe 

That,  from  -^  the  sense  of  all  civility, 

I  thus  would  play  and  trifle  with  your  reverence. 

Your  daughter,  —  if  you  have  not  given  her  leave,  — 

I  say  again,  hath  made  a  gross  revolt ; 

Tying  her  duty,  beauty,  wit,  and  fortunes,         -i,, .«•  >  -.-,-•, 

In  an  extravagant  and  wheeling  ""*  stranger      ^*^L-.,v-*^-w^^^    «i.4««*^ 

Of  here  and  everywhere.     Straight  satisfy  yourself : 

If  she  be  in  her  chamber  or  your  house. 

Let  loose  on  me  the  justice  of  the  State 

For  thus  deluding  you. 

Bra.  Strike  on  the  tinder,  ho  ! 

Give  me  a  taper  !  —  call  up  all  my  people  !  — - 

This  accident  is  not  unlike  my  dream  :  ^^    "  . f-  ' 

Belief  of  it  oppresses  me  already.  —  fi  <^  t.*'-^'' 

Light,  I  say  !  light  !  [iS'j;-//  above. 

lago.  Farewell ;  for  I  must  leave  you  : 

It  seems  not  meet,  nor  wholesome  to  my  place, 

22  A  writer  in  tlie  Pictorial  Shakespeare  tells  us,  "that  the  gondoliers  are 
the  only  conveyers  of  persons,  and  of  a  large  proportion  of  property,  in  Ven- 
ice ;  that  they  are  thus  cognizant  of  all  intrigues,  and  the  fittest  agents  in 
them,  and  are  under  perpetual  and  strong  temptation  to  make  profit  of  the 
secrets  of  society.  Brabantio  might  well  be  in  horror  at  his  daughter  hav- 
ing, in  '  the  dull  watch  o'  the  night,  no  worse  nor  better  guard.'  " 

23  From  here  has  the  force  of  against  or  contrary  to.     Repeatedly  so. 

2*1  Wheeling  is  roving  or  running  about.  Extravagant  in  the  Latin  sense 
oi  straying  or  wandering.  So  Sir  Henry  Wotton  has  the  phrase  "  not  alto- 
gether extravagant  from  my  purpose."  See,  also,  vol  xiv.  page  151,  note  42. 
—  In  for  on  or  upon;  the  two  being  often  used  indiscriminately. 

25  The  careful  old  Senator,  being  caught  careless,  transfers  his  caution 
to  his  dreaming-power  at  least,  —  COLERIDGE. 


SCENE  !.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  1 69 

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  embark'd 

With  such  loud  reason  to  the  Cyprus  wars, 

Which  even  now  stand  in  act,  that,  for  their  souls,  Ji 

Another  of  his  fathom  -^  they  have  none        ■^'j^*'""' J  u.«*-|ft.^i»-'V^^ 

To  lead  their  business  :   in  which  regard,-'^     t^xXkXty  d-c-C^*--*-'^ 

Though  I  do  hate  him  as  I  do  hell-pains, 

Yet,  for  necessity  of  present  life, 

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 ; 

And  there  will  I  be  with  him.     So,  farewell.  {_Exit. 

Enter,  below,  Brabantio,  and  Servants  with  torches. 

Bra.    It  is  too  true  an  evil :  gone  she  is  ; 
And  what's  to  come  of  my  despised  time  29  •  .7 

Is  nought  but  bitterness.  —  Now,  Roderigo,  '-•t^-^ 

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. 

26  Fathom,  here,  is  measure  ;  that  is,  depth,  reach,  or  capacity. 

-'  "In  which  regard  "  here  means  the  same  as  on  which  account. 

2^  Considerable  question  has  been  made  as  to  the  place  meant  by  .Sagit- 
tary. Probably  it  was  some  inn  or  hotel  that  had,  for  its  sign,  a  picture  of 
the  old  zodiacal  sign,  Sagittarius.  Inns  were  commonly  named  from  the 
animals  or  other  things  thus  depicted  on  their  signs;  and  Shakespeare  has 
many  instances  of  such  naming.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  Poet  had  him- 
self known  a  Venetian  inn  called  "  The  Sagittary." 

29  Despised  time  is  here  a  proleptical  form  of  speech  ;  that  is,  Brabantio 
anticipates  contempt  during  the  rest  of  his  /i/e,  in  consequence  of  what  his 
daughter  has  done. 


I/O  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

Bra.    O  Heaven  !     How  got  she  out?     O  treason  of  the 
blood  !  — 
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 
May  be  abused  ?  ^o     Have  you  not  read,  Roderigo, 
Of  some  such  thing? 

Rod.  Yes,  sir,  I  have  indeed. 

Bra.    Call  up  my  brother.  —  O,  would  you  had  had  her  !  -^ 
Some  one  way,  some  another. —  Do  you  know 
Where  we  may  apprehend  her  and  the  Moor? 

Rod.    I  think  I  can  discover  him,  if  you  please 
To  get  good  guard,  and  go  along  with  me. 

Bra.    Pray  you,  lead  on.     At  every  house  I'll  call ; 
I  may  command  at  most--^!  —  Get  weapons,  ho  !  '  ''^''  '^'***^" 
And  raise  some  special  officers  of  night.  — 
On,  good  Roderigo  ;  I'll  deserve  your  pains.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II.  —  The  Same.     Another  Street. 

Enter  Othello,  Iago,  and  Attendants  jcfifh  torches. 

lago.    Though  in  the  trade  of  war  I  liave  slain  men, 
Yet  do  I  hold  it  very  stuff  o'  the  conscience  ^ 
To  do  no  c6ntrived  murder :   I  lack  iniquity 
Sometimes  to  do  me  service  :  nine  or  ten  times 
I  had  thought  t'  have  yerk'd^  him  here  under  the  ribs. 
Oth.    'Tis  better  as  it  is..    ;,^  .  -,^  ,^^^.ryjt;u)\ 
I<^go-  Nay,  but  he  prated, 

30  Abused  is  cheated,  deluded,  made  game  of.     Often  so. 

31  "  I  may  command  at  most  of  the  houses." 

1  As  we  should  say,  a.  point  or  a  matter  of  conscience. 

2  Toyerk  is  the  same  as  to  Jerk  ;  to  strike  with  a  quick  smart  blow.  In 
King  Henry  V.,  iv.  7,  we  have  it  used  of  horses  kicking:  "The  wounded 
s\eedsyerk  out  their  arm^d  heels." 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  f/l 

And  spoke  such  scurvy  and  provoking  tepm^.    ,    /p  x-^W^^i-  --' 
Against  your  Honour, ^  ,  .^.    .       ...... .^     „'     ■  ■'■ "     '^ 

Tliat,  with  the  httle  godHness  I  have, 

I  did  full  hard  forbear  him.     But,  I  pray  you,  sir, 

Are  you  fast  married  ?     Be  assured  of  this,     ,,,      ,         ,       ^ ,    , 

That  the  magnifico  '^  is  much  beloved  ;  ^  t.-' 

And  hath,  in  his  effect,  a  voice  potential, 

As  double  as  the  Dunce's  :  ^  he  will  divorce  you  ; 

Or  put  upon  you  what  restraint  and  grievance      —  fiO-<A.^>V"^.fflt^ 

The  law —  with  all  his  might  t'  enforce  it  on  — 

Will  give  him  cable. 

0//i.  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  vmhoused^  free  condition 

3  lago  is  speaking  of  Roderigo,  and  pretending  to  relate  what  he  has 
done  and  said  against  Othello. 

*  Magnifico  is  an  old  title  given  to  the  grandees  or  chief  men  of  Venice. 

^  He  hath  a  voice  potential,  or  powerful,  as  vmch  so  as  the  Duke's,  is  the 
meaning.  The  Poet  often  uses  single  for  weak  or  feeble ;  and  here,  for 
once,  he  has  double  in  the  opposite  sense.  The  Duke  or  Doge  of  Venice 
was  a  magistrate  of  great  power,  every  court  and  council  of  the  State  being 
very  much  under  his  control. 

6  Here  our  present  idiom  would  require  will.  I  have  repeatedly  noted 
that  in  the  Poet's  time  j/za// and  7w7/ were  often  used  interchangeably. 

''  Men  who  have  sat  on  kingly  thrones.     Siege  for  seat  was  common. 

8  A/lfr// and  afi-w^W/ were  often  used  synonymously.  So  in  Latin  mereo 
and  demereo  have  the  same  meaning.  Utibo7ineted  is  without  taking  off  the 
hat.  To  bonnet,  like  to  cap,  is  to  take  off  the  cap  in  token  of  respect.  See 
page  162,  note  2. 

3  Unhoused  is  unsettled,  without  a  home  or  domestic  ties. 


1 72  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

Put  into  circumscription  and  confine 

For  the  sea's  worth. ^*'     But,  look  !  what  lights  come  yond  ? 

lago.    Those  are  the  raised  father  and  his  friends  : 
You  were  best  go  in. 

Oth.  Not  I ;  I  must  be  found  : 

My  parts,  my  title,  and  my  perfect  soul 
Shall  manifest  me  rightly.     Is  it  they?   -"^  j\fuK\\^  ^fk^M 

lago.    By  Janus,  I  think  no.  ■'  / 

Enter  Cassio,  and  cerfaiti  Officers  with  torches. 

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  anotlier's  lieels  ;  .      .,     ^ . 

And  many  of  the  consuls,"  raised  and  met. 
Are  at  the  Duke's  already  :  you  had  been  hotly  call'd  for  ; 
When,  being  not  at  your  lodging  to  be  found. 
The  Senate  sent  about  three  several  quests 
To  search  you  out. 

Oth.  'Tis  well  I'm  found  by  you. 

I  will  but  spend  a  word  here  in  the  house. 
And  go  with  you.  \^Jix/t. 

1"  Pliny,  the  naturalist,  has  a  chapter  on  t/ie  riches  of  the  sea.  The  ex- 
pression seems  to  have  been  proverbial.  See,  also,  Clarence's  account  of 
his  dream,  in  Ki?2g  Richard  the  Third,  i.  4. 

11  Consuls  means  the  same  here  as  the  "  tog6d  consuls,"  or  men  of  the 
gown,  mentioned  in  note  6  of  the  preceding  scene ;  that  is,  the  Senators. 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR   OF    VENICE.  1 73 

Cas.  Ancient,  what  makes  he  here  ?  ^^ 

lago.    Faith,  he  to-night  hath  boarded  a  land  carack  :  ^"^ 
If  it  prove  lawful  prize,  he's  made  for  ever. 
Cas.    I  do  not  understand. 
lago.  He's  married. 

Cas.  To  who? 

Re-enter  Othello. 

lago.    Marry,  to — <.ome,  captain,  will  you  go? 
0th.  Have  with  you. 

Cas.    Here  comes  another  troop  to  seek  for  you. 
lago.    It  is  Brabantio  :   general,  be  advised  ; 
He  comes  to  bad  intent. 

Enter  Brabantio,  Roderigo,  and  Oflicers  7C'ith  torches  and 

weapons. 

0th.  Holla  !  stand  there  ! 

Rod.    Signior,  it  is  the  Moor. 

Bra.  Down  with  him,  thief! 

\^They  draiv  oti  doth  sides, 
lago.    You,  Roderigo  !   come,  sir,  I  am  for  you.  \ 
0th.    Keep  up  your  bright  swords,  for  the  dew  will  rust 
them.i^  —  JlffVci:   be   ri<^*  <U*,t5V\.'^   . 
Good  signior,  you  shall  more  command  with  years 
Than  with  your  weapons. 

Bra.    O   thou    foul    thief,    where    hast    thou    stow'd   my 
daughter? 
Damn'd  as  thou  art,  thou  hast  enchanted  her; 

'-  What  is  he  about,  or  what  is  he  doing  here  ?  Shakespeare  so  uses  the 
phrase  repeatedly. 

18  A  carack  or  carrlck,  was  a  ship  of  great  burden,  a  Spanish  galleon  ; 
so  named  from  carico,  a  lading,  or  freight. 

I''  If  I  mistake  not,  there  is  a  sort  of  playful,  good-humoured  irony  ex- 
pressed in  the  very  rhythm  of  this  line.  The  thing  was  remarked  to  ma 
many  years  ago  by  the  Hon,  R.  H.  Dana,  of  Boston. 


174  OTHELLO,  ACT  1 

For  I'll  refer  me  to  all  things  of  sense, 

If  she  in  chains  of  magic  were  not  bound, 

Whether  a  maid  so  tender,  fair,  and  happy, 

So  opposite  to  marriage  that  she  shunn'd  -       .  ._ii) 

The  wealthy  curled  i^  darlinir^T^ur  natl^"-^^^^^  /^.nnP^^rrr^ 

Would  ever  have,  t'  incur  a  general  mock. 

Run  from  her  guardage  to  the  sooty  bosom 

Of  such  a  thing  as  thou,  —  to  fear,  not  to  delight. 

Judge  me  the  world,  if  'tis  not  gross  in  sense 

That  thou  hast  practised  on  her  with  foul  charms ; 

Abused  her  delicate  youth  with  drugs  or  minerals 

That  waken  motion  :  "^  I'll  have't  disputed  on;  '7^ 

'Tis  probable  and  palpable  to  thinking. 

I  therefore  apprehend  and  do  attach  thee 

For  an  abuser  of  the  world,  a  practiser 

Of  arts  inhibited  and  out  of  warrant.  — 

Lay  hold  upon  him  :  if  he  do  resist. 

Subdue  him  at  his  peril. 

0th.  Hold  your  hands, 

Both  you  of  my  inclining,  and  the  rest  ! 
Were  it  my  cue  to  fight,  I  should  have  known  it 
Without  a  prompter.  —  Where  will  you  that  I  go 
To  answer  this  your  charge  ? 

Bra.  To  prison  ;  till  fit  time 

Of  law  and  course  of  direct  session  i''' 

15  In  Shakespeare's  time  it  was  the  fashion  for  lusty  gallants  to  wear  "  a 
curled  bush  of  frizzled  hair."  In  King  Leai\  Edgar,  when  he  was  "  proud 
in  heart  and  mind,"  curled  his  hair.  The  Poet  has  other  allusions  to  the 
custom  among  people  of  rank  and  fashion. 

16  Motion  is  elsewhere  used  by  the  Poet  in  the  same  sense.  So  in  Meas- 
ure/or Measure  :  "  One  who  never  feels  the  wanton  stings  and  7no-tions  of 
the  sense."  And  in  a  subsequent  part  of  this  scene  :  "  But  we  have  reason, 
to  cool  our  raging  motions,  our  carnal  stings,  our  unbitted  lusts."  To  zuaken 
is  to  incite,  to  stir  up.     We  have,  in  the  present  play,  "  waken  d  wrath." 

1'^  The  language  is  rather  odd,  and  perhaps  somewhat  obscure ;  but  the 
meaning  probably  is,  till  the  time  prescribed  by  law  and  by  the  regular 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  1 75 

Call  thee  to  answer. 

0th.  What  if  I  do  obey? 

How  may  the  Duke  be  therewith  satisfied, 
Whose  messengers  are  here  about  my  side, 
Upon  some  present  business  of  the  State 
To  bring  me  to  him  ? 

/  Off.  'Tis  true,  most  worthy  signior ; 

The  Duke's  in  council,  and  your  noble  self, 
I'm  sure,  is  sent  for. 

Bra.  How  !  the  Duke  in  council  I 

In  this  time  of -the  night  !  —  Bring  him  away; 
Mine's  not  an  idle  cause  :  the  Duke  himself, 
Or  any  of  my  brothers  of  the  State, 
Cannot  but  feel  this  wrong  as  'twere  their  own  ; 
For,  if  such  actions  may  have  passage  free, 
Bond-slaves  and  pagans  ^^  shall  our  statesmen  be.     \_Exeunt. 

Scene  III.  —  Tlie  Same.     A  Council-cJiamber. 
T7ie  Duke  and  Senators  sitting  at  a  table  ;  ( )fificers  atteii,fing. 

Duke.    There  is  no(compositioivin  these  news 
That  gives  them  credit. ^  '  • 

/  Sen.  Indeed,  they're  disproportion'd  ; 

My  letters  say  a  hundred  and  seven  galleys. 

Duke.    And  mine,  a  hundred  and  forty. 

2  Sen.  And  mine,  two  hundred  : 

course  of  judicial  ])rocedure.  Session  is  not  unfrequrntly  used  in  this  way; 
and  the  proper  meaning  of  direct  is  straight  omuard,  or  according  to  rule. 

^**  Pagan  was  a  word  of  contempt ;  and  the  reason  will  appear  from  its 
etymology:  "Paganus,  villanus  vel  incultus.  Et  derivatur  apagiis,  quod  est 
villa.  Et  quicunque  habitat  in  villa  est  paganus.  Praeteria  quicimque  est 
e.\tra  civitatem  Dei,  i.e.,  ecclcsiiim,  dicitur  paganus.  Anglice,  -Apaynim."  — 
Ortus  Vocabulorum,  1528. 

1  There  is  no  consistency,  no  agreement,  in  these  reports,  to  stamp  them 
with  credibility.     .\'j-vs  was  used  as  singular  or  i)lural  indifferently. 


176  OTHELLO,  '  ACT  L 

But  though  they  jump  not  on  a  just  account,  —  , 

As  in  these  cases,  where  the  aip  reports,^    _    ■J^^*'^ 
'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.    [  Withinr^    What,  ho  !  what,  ho  !  what,  ho  ! 

I  Off.    A  messenger  fronfi  the  galleys. 

Enter  a  Sailor. 

Duke.  Now,  what's  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. 
By  no  assay  of  reason  :  ^  'tis  a  pageant,  — -^-«t 

To  keep  us  in  false  gaze.     When  we  consider 

Th'  importancy  of  Cyprus  to  the  Turk  ; 

And  let  ourselves  again  but  understand. 

That  as  it  more  concerns  the  Turk  than  Rhodes,     ^         . 

So  may  he  with  more  facile  question  bear  it,^      -<-»>*-'»^-' 

For  that  it  stands  not  in  such  warlike  brace, 

But  altogether  lacks  th'  abilities 

That  Rhodes  is  dress'd  in  ;  —  if  we  make  thought  of  this, 

2  The  Poet  elsewhere  uses  aim  in  the  sense  oi guess  or  conjecture.  So  in 
yulius  Casar  :  "  What  you  would  work  me  to,  I  have  some  aim." 

3  That  is,  wAat  say  you  0/ this  change  ?     See  page  75,  note  24. 
*  By  no  frial  or  test  of  reason.     Assay  was  often  used  thus. 

^  May  win  or  capture  it  with  an  easier  contest.  See  vol.  xv.  page  202, 
note  23.  — Question  readily  glides  through  controversy  to  confiict  or  fight.  — 
Brace,  next  line,  is  state  of  defence,  strongly  braced.  So,  to  brace  on  the 
armour  was  to  arm. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE,  I// 

We  must  not  think  the  Turk  is  so  unskilful 
To  leave  that  latest  which  concerns  him  first, 
Neglecting  an  attempt  of  ease  and  gain,_         ^    t   L 
To  wake  and  wage  "^  a  danger  profitless. 

Duke.    Nay,  in  all  confidence,  he's  not  for  Rhodes. 

/  Off.    Here  is  more  news. 

E7iter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    The  Ottomites,  reverend  and  gracious. 
Steering  with  due  course  toward  the  isle  of  Rhodes, 
Have  there  injointed '''  with  an  after  fleet. 

J  Se7i.    Ay,  so  I  thought.  —  How  many,  as  you  guess? 

Mess.    Of  thirty  sail ;  and  now  they  do  re-stem 
Their  backward  course,  bearing  with  frank  appearance 
Their  purposes  toward  Cyprus.     Signior  Montano, 
Your  trusty  and  most  valiant  servitor. 
With  his  free  duty  recommends  you  thus. 
And  prays  you  to  beheve  him. 

Duke.    'Tis  certain,  then,  for  Cyprus.  — 
Marcus  Luccicos,  is  not  he  in  town  ? 

/  Sen.    He's  now  in  Florence. 

Duke.   Write  from  us  to  him  ;  post-post-haste  dispatch. 

I  Sen.    Here  comes  Brabantio  and  the  valiant  Moor. 

Enter  Brabantio,  Othello,  Iago,  Roderigo,  and  Officers. 

Duke.    Valiant  Othello,  we  must  straight  employ  you 
Against  the  general  enemy  Ottoman.^  — 

s  To  wage  is  to  undertake.  "  To  wage  law  (in  the  common  acceptation) 
seems  to  be  \o  follow,  to  urge,  drive  on,  or  jirosecute  the  law  or  law-suits; 
as  to  wage  war  is  proeliari,  bellare,  to  drive  on  the  war,  to  fight  in  battels  as 
warriors  do."  —  Blount's  Glossography. 

"  Injointed  is  the  same  here  as  united,  and  so  used  intransitively. 

8  It  was  part  of  the  policy  of  the  Venetian  State  to  employ  strangers,  and 
even  Moors,  in  their  wars.  "  By  lande  they  are  served  of  straungers,  both 
for  generals,  for  capitaines,  and  for  all  other  men  of  warre,  because  theyr 
lawe  permitteth  not  any  Venetian  to  be  capitaine  over  an  armie  by  lande  ; 
fearing,  I  thinke,  Caesar's  example."  —  Thomas's  History  of  Italye. 


1/8  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

[^To  Braban.]    I  did  not  see  you  ;  welcome,  gentle  signior  ; 
We  lack'd  your  counsel  and  your  help  to-night. 

Bra.    So  did  I  yours.     Good  your  Grace,  pardon  me  : 
Neither  my  place,  nor  aught  I  heard  of  business. 
Hath  raised  me  from  my  bed  ;  nor  doth  the  general  care 
Take  hold  on  me  ;  for  my  particular  grief 
Is  of  so  flood-gate  and  o'erbearing  nature 
That  it  engluts  and  swallows  other  sorrows. 
And  it  is  still  itself. 

Duke.  Why,  what's  the  matter? 

Bra.    My  daughter  !  O,  my  daughter  ■ 

Duke  and  Sen.  Dead  ? 

B7'a.  Ay,  to  me  : 

She  is  abused,  stol'n  from  me,  and  corrupted 
By  spells  and  medicines  bought  of  mountebanks  ; 
For  nature  so  preposterously  to  err, 
Being  not  deficient,  blind,  or  lame  of  sense, 
Sans  witchcraft  could  not. 

Duke.    Whoe'er  he  be  that,  in  this  foul  proceeding, 
Hath  thus  beguiled  your  daughter  of  herself,  .  ,  -i 

And  you  of  her,  the  bloody  book  of  law  ^  '  '^^  .        ^ 

You  shall  yourself  read  in  the  bitter  letter  -^■/u-^/i*^ 

After  your  own  sense  ;  yea,  though  our  proper  son 
Stood  in  your  action. 

Bra.  Humbly  I  thank  your  Grace. 

Here  is  the  man,  this  Moor ;  whom  now,  it  seems. 
Your  special  mandate,  for  the  state -affairs, 
Hath  hither  brought. 

Duke  ind  Sen.  We're  very  sorry  for't. 

Duke.    [Ta  Othello.]    What,  in  your  own  part,  can  you 
say  to  this  ? 

9  By  the  Venetian  law  the  giving  love-potions  was  highly  criminal,  as  ap- 
pears in  the  Code  Delia  Pro9nission  del  Malefico.  And  the  use  of  philters, 
so  called,  for  the  purpose  here  supposed,  was  generally  credited. 


SCENE  HI.  IHE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  1 79 

Bra.    Nothing,  but  this  is  so. 

0th.    Most  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  signiors, 
My  very  noble  and  approved  good  masters, 
That  I  have  ta'en  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.     Rude  am  I  in  ray  speech. 
And  Uttle  bless'd  with  the  soft  phrase  of  peace  ; 
For,  since  these  arms  of  mine  had  seven  years'  pith, 
Till  now  some  nine  moons  wasted,  they  have  used 
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  patience, 
I  will  a  round"'  unvarnish'd  tale  deliver  .o.-^? 

Of  my  whole  course  of  love  ;  what  drugs,  what  charms,     ^ 
What  conjuration,  and  what  mighty  magic, — 
For  such  proceeding  I  am  charged  withal,  — 
I  won  his  daughter  with. 

Bra.  A  maiden  never  bold  ; 

Of  spirit  so  still  and  quiet,  that  her  motion  «.  ^, ,  \jj^  t^' 

Blush 'd  at  herself;  ^^  and  she  —  in  spite  of  nature,  /JLk  J^ 

Of  years,  of  country,  credit,  every  thing —  f>,  ,,,,    -votJfeUAf 

To  fall  in  love  with  what  she  fear'd  to  look  on  !  \  .        .^^  J »».  ■ 

It  is  a  judgment  maim'd  and  most  imperfect,  ' 

That  will  confess  perfection  so  could  err 
Against  all  rules  of  nature  ;  and  must  be  driven 


1"  Round  was  often  used  in  the  sense  ol plain  or  downright. 

11  Herself  iox  itself,  referring  to  motioji.  The  personal  and  neutral  pro- 
nouns were  often  used  interchangeably.  —  Motion  is  here  used  in  the  same 
sense  as  remarked  in  note  16  of  the  preceding  scene ;  meaning,  as  White 
says,  "  that  Desdemona  blushed  when  conscious,of  the  natural  passions  of 
her  sex." 


l80  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

To  find  out  practices  of  cunning  Hell, 
Why  this  should  be.     I  therefore  vouch  again, 
That  with  some  mixtures  powerful  o'er  the  blood, 
Or  with  some  dram  conjured  to  this  effect, 
He  wrought  upon  her. 

Duke.  To  vouch  this,  is  no  proof: 

Without  more  certain  and  more  overt  test, 
These  are  thin  ha^^its  and  poor  likelihoods     '       . 
Of  modern  seeming,^-  you  prefer  against  him. 

I  Sen.    But,  Othello,  speak  : 
Did  you  by  indirect  and  forced  courses 
Subdue  and  poison  this  young  maid's  affections? 
Or  came  it  by  request,  and  such  fair  question 
As  soul  to  soul  affordeth  ? 

0th.  I  do  beseech  you. 

Send  for  the  lady  to  the  Sagittary, 
And  let  her  speak  of  me  before  her  father  : 
If  you  do  find  me  foul  in  her  report. 
The  trust,  the  office,  I  do  hold  of  you, 
Not  only  take  away,  but  let  your  sentence 
Even  fall  upon  my  life. 

Duke.  Fetch  Desdemona  hither. 

0th.    Ancient,  conduct  them  ;  you  best  know  the  place.  — * 

\_Exeuut  Iago  and  Attendants. 
And,  till  she  come,  as  truly  as  to  Heaven 
I  do  confess  the  vices  of  my  blood, 
So  justly  to  your  grave  ears  I'll  present 
How  I  did  thrive  in  this  fair  lady's  love, 
And  she  in  mine. 

Duke.    Say  it,  Othello. 

12  Afode?-/i  is  here  used  in  the  sense  of  common  or  vulgar ;  as  in  the 
phrase,  "  full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances."  — •  Habits  seems  to  be  used 
here  much  as  we  now  use  colour,  as  in  "  some  colour  of  truth  " ;  that  is, 
semblafice.     Some  think  it  a  Latinism,  lil^e  kabita,  tilings  held  or  believed. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  l8l 

0th.    Her  father  loved  me  ;  oft  invited  me  ; 
Still  question'd  me  the  story  of  my  life, 
From  year  to  year,  the  battles,  sieges,  fortunes, 
That  I  have  pass'd. 

I  ran  it  througli,  even  from  my  boyish  days 
To  th'  very  moment  that  he  bade  me  tell  it : 
Wherein  I  spake  of  most  disastrous  chances. 
Of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field  ; 
Of  hair-breadth  'scapes  i'  the  imminent  deadly  Ijreach  ; 
Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe. 
And  sold  to  slavery  ;  of  my  redemption  thence, 
And  portance  ^-^  in  my  travels'  history  : 
Wherein  of  antres  ^^  vast  and  deserts  idle. 
Rough  quarries,  rocks,  and  hills  Avhose  heads  touch  heaven, 
It  was  my  hint  to  speak,  —  such  was  the  process  ; 
And  of  the  Cannibals  that  each  other  eat, 
The  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose  heads 
Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders. i'""     This  to  hear 
Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline  : 
But  still  the  house-affairs  would  draw  her  thence  ; 
Which  ever  as  she  could  with  haste  dispatch, 

13  Portance  is  carriage  or  deportment.  So  in  Coriotanus,  ii.  3 :  "  But 
your  loves,  thinking  upon  his  services,  took  from  you  the  apprehension  of 
his  present  portance." 

1*  Caverns  ;  from  antrum,  L.at.  Rymcr  ridicules  this  whole  circumstance  ; 
and  Shaftesbury  obliquely  sneers  at  it.  "Whoever,"  says  Johnson,  "  ridi- 
cules this  account  of  the  progress  of  love,  shows  his  ignorance  not  only  of 
history,  but  of  nature  and  manners." 

15  Nothing  excited  more  imiversal  attention  than  the  account  brought  by 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  on  his  return  from  his  celebrated  voyage  to  Guiana  in 
1595,  of  the  cannibals,  amazons,  and  especially  of  the  nation,  "whose  heads 
do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders."  A  short  extract  of  the  more  wonderful 
passages  was  also  published  in  Latin  and  in  several  other  languages  in  1599, 
adorned  with  copperplates,  representing  these  cannibals,  amazons,  and  head- 
less people,  &c.  These  extraordinary  reports  were  universally  credited  ;  and 
Othello  therefore  assumes  no  other  character  than  what  was  very  common 
among  the  celebrated  commanders  of  the  Poet's  time. 


1 82  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

She'd  come  again,  and  with  a  greedy  ear 

Devour  up  my  discourse  :  which  I  observing, 

Took  once  a  pliant  hour ;  and  found  good  means 

To  draw  from  her  a  prayer  of  earnest  heart 

That  I  would  all  my  pilgrimage  dilate. 

Whereof  by  parcels  she  had  something  heard. 

But  not  intentively.'^     I  did  consent ; 

And  often  did  beguile  her  of  her  tears. 

When  I  did  speak  of  some  distressful  stroke 

That  my  youth  suffer'd.     My  story  being  done, 

She  gave  me  for  my  pains  a  world  of  sighs  : 

She  swore,'''  In  faith,  ^tivas  strangi:,  'fioas  passing  sfrange ; 

^Twas  pitiful,  ^fivas  wondi-ous  pitiful : 

She  wish'd  she  had  not  heard  it ;  yet  she  wish'd 

That  Heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man  :  ^'^  she  thank'd  me ; 

And  bade  me,  if  I  had  a  friend  that  loved  her, 

I  should  but  teach  him  how  to  tell  my  story. 

And  that  would  woo  her.     Upon  this  hint  I  spake  :     ,  v 

She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  pass'd  ;  ..-y^    J< 

And  I  loved  her  that  she  did  pity  them.  .'^'^     j^ 

This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  used  :   -^   ■^     .  \*' 

Here  comes  the  lady  ;  let  her  witness  it.  \) 

Enter  Desdemona  ivith  Iago  and  Attendants. 

Dul;i\    I  think  this  tale  would  win  my  daughter  too.  — 
Good  Brabantio, 

i**  Intention  and  attention  were  once  synonymous.  "  Intenfive,  which 
listeneth  well  and  is  earnestly  bent  to  a  thing,"  says  Bullokar,  in  his  Exposi- 
tor, 1616.  Lettsom  remarks  that  here  the  word  "  seems  to  mean  either  all 
at  a  stretch,  or  so  as  to  comprehend  the  story  as  a  ■whole." 

1"  To  aver  upon  faith  or  honour  was  considered  swearing. 

18  A  question  has  lately  been  raised  whether  the  meaning  he  e  is,  that 
Desdemona  wished  such  a  man  had  been  made  for  her,  or  that  she  herself 
had  been  made  such  a  man ;  and  several  have  insisted  on  the  latter,  lest  the 
lady's  delicacy  should  be  impeached ! 


..  .i^ 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  183 

Take  up  this  mangled  matter  at  the  best : 
Men  do  their  broken  weapons  rather  use 
Than  their  bare  hands. 

Bra.  I  pray  you,  hear  her  speak  : 

If  she  confess  that  she  was  half  the  wooer, 
Destruction  on  my  head,  if  my  bad  blame 
Light  on  the  man  !  —  Come  hither,  gentle  mistress  : 
Do  you  perceive  in  all  this  noble  company 
Wherfe  most  you  owe  obedience  ? 

Des.  My  noble  father, 

I  do  perceive  here  a  divided  duty  : 
To  you  I'm  bound  for  life  and  education  ; 
My  life  and  education  both  do  learn  me 
How  to  respect  you  ;  you're  the  lord  of  duty, 
I'm  hitherto  your  daughter  :   but  here's  my  husband ; 
And  so  much  duty  as  my  mother  show'd 
To  you,  preferring  you  before  her  father. 
So  much  I  challenge  that  I  may  profess 
Due  to  the  Moor  my  lord. 

Bra.  God  b'  wi' you  !  I  have  done. — 

Please  it  your  Grace,  on  to  the  State-affairs  : 
I  had  rather  to  adopt  a  child  than  get  it. — 
Come  hither,  Moor : 

I  here  do  give  thee  that  with  all  my  heart 
Which,  but  1^  thou  hast  already,  with  all  my  heart 
I  would  keep  from  thee.  —  For  my  own  sake,  jewel, 
I'm  glad  at  soul  I  have  no  other  child ; 
For  thy  escape  would  teach  me  tyranny. 
To  hang  20  clogs  on  them.  —  I  have  done,  my  lord. 

*Duke.    Let  me  speak  like  yourself;-'  and  lay  a  sentence, 

19  But  in  the  exceptive  sense ;  but  that  or  except.     Frequent. 

20  To  hang  for  in  or  by  hanging.     See  page  46,  note  25. 

21  "  Let  me  speak  in  the  same  manner  as  you  have  yourself  just  spoken." 
He  refers  to  Brabantio's  "  I  here  do  give  thee  that  with  all  my  heart,"  See 


'/ 


>v 


184  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

*Which,  as  a  grise  ^~  or  step,  may  help  these  lovers 

*Into  your  favour. 

*When  remedies  are  past,  the  griefs  are  ended  "^  '  i  x,'^ 

*By  seeing  the  worst,  which  late  on  hopes  depended. 

*To  mourn  a  mischief  that  is  past  and  gone 

*Is  the  next  way  to  draw  new  mischief  on. 

*What  cannot  be  preserved  when  fortune  takes, 

*Patience  her  injury  a  mockery  makes. 

*The  robb'd  that  smiles  steals  something  from  the  thief; 

*He  robs  himself  that  spends  a  bootless  grief. 

*Bra.    So  let  the  Turk  of  Cyprus  us  beguile  ; 
*We  lose  it  not,  so  long  as  we  can  smile. 
*He  bears  the  sentence  well  that  nothing  bears 
*But  the  free  comfort  which  from  thence  he  hears; 
*But  he  bears  both  the  sentence  and  the  sorrow 
*That  to  pay  grief  must  of  poor  patience  borrow. 
*These  sentences,  to  sugar,  or  to  gall, 
*Being  strong  on  both  sides,  are  equivocal : 
*But  words  are  words ;  I  never  yet  did  hear 
*That  the  bruised  heart  was  pierced  -"*  through  the  ear.  — 

And  so  he  goes  on  to  urge  acquiescence  in  what  is  done,  merely  because  it 
is  done,  and  cannot  be  undone. 

22  Grise  ox  greese  is  a  step  ;  from  gres,  French. 

23  This  is  expressed  in  a  common  proverbial  form  in  Love' s  Labours  Lost  : 
"  Past  cure  is  still  past  care." 

24  Pierced  seems  rather  harsh  and  unfitting  here.  Of  course  the  m(fA.\\- 
\ng  is,  reached  or  penetrated  with  healing  virtue.  The  expression  was  not 
uncommon.  So  Spenser,  in  The  Faerie  Queene,  iv.  8,  26,  describing  the  old 
hag  Sclaunder  attributes  to  her  words  "  Which,  passing  through  the  eares, 
would  pierce  the  hart."  And  again  in  vi.  9,  26,  speaking  of  Melibee's  sage 
discourse : 

Whose  sensefull  ivords  cmpierst  his  hart  so  neare, 
That  he  was  wrapt  with  double  ravishment. 

Also  in  the  First  Pa.rt  of  Marlow's  Tamburlaine,  i.  2,  quoted  by  Dyce : 

Nor  thee  nor  them,  thrice-noble  Tamburlaine, 
Shall  want  my  heart  to  be  luith  gladness pierc'd. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  1 85 

*Beseech  you,  now  proceed  to  the  affairs  of  State. 

Duke.  The  Turk  with  a  most  mighty  preparation  makes 
for  Cyprus.  —  Othello,  the  fortitude  of  the  place  is  best 
known  to  you  ;  and  though  we  have  there  a  substitute  of 
most  allowed  sufficiency,  yet  opinion,  a  sovereign  mistress  of 
effects,  throws  a  more  safer  voice  on  you :  you  must  there- 
fore be  content  to  slubber  ^^  the  gloss  of  your  new  fortunes 
with  this  more  stubborn  and  boisterous  expedition. 

0th.   The  tyrant  custom,  most  grave  Senators, 
Hath  made  the  flinty  and  steel  couch  of  war  j'-c't  «/■  vv/f 

My  thrice-driven  bed  of  down  :  -^  I  do  agnize  «        ' 

A  natural  and  prompt  alacrity 
I  find  in  hardness ;  and  do  undertake 
This  present  war  against  the  Ottomites. 
Most  humbly,  therefore,  bending  to  your  State, 
I  crave  fit  disposition  for  my  wife  ; 
Due  reference  of  place  and  exhibition  ; 
With  such  accommodation  and  besort  '^'' 
As  levels  with  her  breeding. 

Duke.  If  you  please, 

Be't  at  her  father's. 

Bra.  I'll  not  have  it  so. 

0th.    Nor  I. 

Des.  Nor  I ;  I  would  not  there  reside, 

To  put  my  father  in  impatient  thoughts 
By  being  in  his  eye.     Most  gracious  Duke, 

'^  To  slubber  is,  properly,  to  neglect  or  to  slight ;  here  it  seems  to  have 
the  sense  of  obscuring  by  negligence.     See  vol.  iii.  page  158,  note  5. 

26  A  driven  bed  is  a  bed  for  which  the  feathers  have  been  selected  by 
driving  with  a  fan,  which  separates  the  light  from  the  heavy.  —  To  agnize  is 
to  acknowledge,  con/ess,  or  avow.  Thus  in  a  Summarie  Report  relative  to 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  1586 :  "  A  repentant  convert  agnizing  her  Majesty's 
great  mercie." 

27  Besort  is  attendance  or  companionship.  —  Exhibition  is  allotvance  or 
provision.     See  vol.  xv.  page  23,  note  5. 


1 86  OTHELLO,  ACT  L 

To  my  unfolding  lend  your  prosperous  ear  ;  ^8  _^ 

And  let  me  find  a  charter  in  your  voice,  (j 

T'  assist  my  simpleness. 

Duke.    What  would  you,  Desdemona  ? 

Des.   That  I  did  love  the  Moor  to  live  with  him. 
My  downright  violence  and  storm  of  fortunes 
May  trumpet  to  the  world  :  my  heart's  subdued   _ 
Even  to  the  very  quality  -^  of  my  lord  :  ,^***-*'***- 

I  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind ; 
And  to  his  honours  and  his  valiant  parts 
Did  I  my  soul  and  fortunes  consecrate. 
So  that,  dear  lords,  if  I  be  left  behind, 
A  moth  of  peace,  and  he  go  to  the  war, 
The  rites  for  which  I  love  him  are  bereft  me, 
And  I  a  heavy  interim  shall  support  ,  ,^,,^.^    j_^^^ 

By  his  dear-^"  absence.     Let  me  go  with  him.  ' 

0th.    Your  voices,  lords  :  beseech  you,  let  her  will 
Have  a  free  way. 

28  Prosperous  is  here  used  in  an  active  sense,  the  same  as  propitious. — 
Charter,  in  the  next  line,  appears  to  mean  about  the  same  as  pledge  or 

guaranty.  The  word  is  used  in  a  considerable  variety  of  senses  by  Shake- 
speare, and  seems  to  have  been  rather  a  favourite  with  him,  as  with  other 
Englishmen,  probably  from  the  effect  of  Magna  Charta  and  other  like 
instruments  in  securing  and  preserving  the  liberties  of  England. 

29  Quality  is  here  put,  apparently,  for  nature,  idiom,  distinctive  grain,  or 
personal  propriety.  Desdemona  means  that  her  heart  is  tamed  and  tuned 
into  perfect  harmony  with  the  heroic  manhood  that  has  spoken  out  to  her 
from  Othello's  person;  that  her  soul  gravitates  towards  him  as  its  pre- 
established  centre  and  home.  So  that  the  sense  of  the  passage  may  be 
fitly  illustrated  from  the  Poet's  iiith  Sonnet :  "  And  almost  thence  my  na- 
ture is  subdued  to  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand."  —  In  "  downright 
violence  and  storm  of  fortunes,"  the  meaning  probably  is  the  state  or  course 
of  life  which  the  speaker  has  boldly  ventured  upon  in  forsaking  the  peace- 
ful home  of  her  father  to  share  the  storms  and  perils,  the  violences  and 
hardships,  of  a  warrior's  career. 

30  Dear,  in  its  original  sense,  was  an  epithet  of  any  thing  that  excited 
intense  feeling,  whether  of  pleasure  or  of  pain.  So  the  Poet  has  it  repeat- 
edly.    See  vol.  V.  page  227,  note  6. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  1 8/ 

Vouch  with  me,  Heaven,  I  therefore  ^'  beg  it  not,  ^ 

To  please  the  palate  of  my  appetite. 
Nor  to  comply  \vi'  th'  heat  of  young  affects, "^^  — 
In  me  defunct,  —  but  for  her  satisfaction, 
.\nd  to  be  free  and  bounteous  to  her  mind. 
And  Heaven  defentl  your  good  souls,'^'^  that  you  think 
I  will  your  serious  and  great  business  scant 
'**'■       For  she  is  with  me  :  "^^  no,  when  light-wing'd  toys 

Of  feather'd  Cupid  seeP^  with  wanton  dullness  ,      . 

My  sijeculative  and  active  instruments, -^^  ■>*■■',_       -.' 

%c^     That  my  disports  corrupt  and  taint  my  business,         y 
Let  housewives  make  a  skillet  of  my  helm. 
And  all  indign  and  base  adversities    . 
Make  head  against  my  estimation  !   _       i'jVm  C^  I^^^  Loi-^'^-^^ 

Duke.    Be  it  as  you  shall  privately  determine,  ' 

Either  for  her  stay  or  going :   th'  affair  cries  haste, 
And  speed  must  answer  it. 

I  Sen.    You  must  away  to-night.         ■  •■:--: 

0th.  With  all  my  heart. 

Duke.    .At  nine  i'  the  morning  here  we'll  meet  again. — 
Othello,  leave  some  officer  behind. 
And  he  shall  our  commission  bring  to  you  ; 
With  such  things  else  of  quality  and  respect 

31  "  I  do  not  beg  it  far  this  cause!'  Shakespeare  has  repeated  instances 
of  therefore  in  the  sense  oi  for  this  cause  or  to  this  end. 

*-  Affects  for  affections,  and  in  the  sense  of  passions.  Repeatedly  so.  See 
vol.  vii.  page  148,  note  21.  —  The  word  defunct  properly  goes  with  heat,  not 
with  affects.  Othello  means  simply  that  the  heat  of  youthful  impulse  has 
cooled  down ;  that  his  passions  have  become  tempered  to  the  rule  of 
judgment. 

23  Old  language  for  "  Heaven  defend  your  good  souls  from  thinking." 

34  Because  she  is  with  me.     For  was  often  used  thus. 

35  Seel  is  an  old  term  in  falconry,  for  closing  tip  the  eyes  of  a  hawk. 
Done  by  sewing  the  lids  together.     See  page  66,  note  13. 

38  Meaning  his  faculties  of  intelligence  and  of  action.  —  That,  next  line, 
is  so  that,  or  insomuch  that.     Often  so. 


1 88  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

As  doth  import  you .3''' 

0th.  So  please  your  Grace,  my  ancient ; 

A  man  he  is  of  honesty  and  trust : 
To  his  conveyance  I  assign  my  wife. 
With  what  else  needful  your  good  Grace  shall  think 
To  be  sent  after  me.^^ 

Duke.  Let  it  be  so. — 

Good  night  to  every  one.  —  \To  Brah.]  And,  noble  signior, 
If  virtue  no  delighted^^beauty  lack,      ^"^^"^    ^/-^^  'j--*-*-  ^^^-^'-^'Kt 
Your  son-in-law  is  far  more  fair  than  black.       "  , 

I  Sen.    Adieu,  brave  Moor  ;  use  Desdemona  well.     ^  >^\S 

Bra.    Look  to  her,  Moor,  if  thou  hast  eyes  to  see  :      i  ^^ 
She  has  deceived  her  father,  and  may  thee.^*^  ' 

\_Exeiiiit  Duke,  Senators,  Officers,  &'c. 

0th.    My  life  upon  her  faith  !  —  Honest  lago. 
My  Desdemona  must  I  leave  to  thee  : 
I  pr'ythee,  let  thy  wife  attend  on  her ; 
And  bring  them  after  in  the  best  advantage. ''i  — 
Come,  Desdemona ;  I  have  but  an  hour 
Of  love,  of  worldly  matters  and  direction. 
To  spend  with  thee  :  we  must  obey  the  time. 

\_Exeinit  Othello  ajid  Desdemona. 

3"  To  "  import  you  "  is  the  same  as  to  be  important  to  you.  The  Poet 
repeatedly  uses  the  verb  in  the  kindred  sense  of  to  concern.  So  in  Anfofiy 
and  Cleopatra,  i.  2 :  "  Her  length  of  sickness,  with  what  else  more  serious 
importcth  thee  to  know,  this  bears."  Also  in  Troiliis  and  Cressida,  iv.  2 : 
"  It  doth  import  him  much  to  speak  with  me." 

28  The  construction  is,  "  with  what  else  your  good  Grace  shall  think  need- 
ful to  be  sent  after  me." 

39  "  Delig'ted  beauty  "  evidently  means  here  beauty  that  gives  or  yields 
delight ;  that  is,  delightful.  An  instance  of  the  indiscriminate  use  of  active 
and  passive  forms  which  occurs  so  often  in  the  old  writers. 

■i"  In  real  life,  how  do  we  look  back  to  little  speeches  as  presentimental 
of,  or  contrasted  with,  an  affecting  event  I  Even  so,  Shakespeare,  as  secure  of 
being  read  over  and  over,  of  becoming  a  family  friend,  provides  this  passage 
for  his  readers,  and  leaves  it  to  them.  —  Coi.ekidc;e. 

■•1  "  The  best  advantage  "  means  the  fairest  or  earliest  opportunity. 


THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 


'V 


X 
X 


Rod.    lago,  — 

lago.    What  say'st  thou,  noble  heart? 

Rod.    What  will  I  do,  think'st  thou  ? 

lago.    Why,  go  to  bed,  and  sleep. 

Rod.    I  will  incontinently'^-  drown  myself. 

lago.  If  thou  dost,  I  shall  never  love  thee  after.  Why, 
thou  silly  gentleman  ! 

Rod.  It  is  silliness  to  live  when  to  live  is  torment ;  and 
then  have  we  a  prescription  to  die  when  death  is  our  phy- 
sician. 

lago.  O  villainous  !  I  have  look'd  upon  the  world  for  four 
times  seven  years  \  ^"^  and,  since  I  could  distinguish  betwixt  a 
benefit  and  an  injury,  I  never  found  man  that  knew  how  to 
love  himself.  Ere  I  would  say,  I  would  drown  myself  for 
the  love  of  a  guinea-hen,  I  would  change  my  humanity  with 
a  baboon. 

Rod.  What  should  I  do  ?  I  confess  it  is  my  shame  to  be 
so  fond  ;  but  it  is  not  in  my  virtue  to  amend  it. 

lago.  Virtue  !  a  fig  !  'tis  in  ourselves  that  we  are  thus  or 
thus.  Our  bodies  are  our  gardens  ;  to  the  which  our  wills  are 
gardeners  :  so  that,  if  we  will  plant  nettles,  or  sow  lettuce  ; 
set  hyssop,  and  weed-up  thyme  ;  supply  it  with  one  gender 
of  herbs,  or  distract  it  with  many  ;  either  to  have  it  steril 
with  idleness  or  manured  with  industry  ;  why,  the  power  and 
corrigible  '''^  authority  of  this  lies  in  our  wills.  If  the  balance 
of  opr  lives  had  not  one  scale  of  reason  to  poise  another  of 

42  Immediately ;  the  old  meaning  of  incont'mently. 

^3  This  clearly  ascertains  lago's  age  to  be  twenty-eight  years ;  though  tlic 
general  impression  of  him  is  that  of  a  much  older  man.  The  Poet,  no  doubt, 
had  a  wise  purpose  in  making  him  so  young,  as  it  infers  his  virulence  of 
mind  to  be  something  innate  and  spontaneous,  and  not  superinduced  by 
harsh  experience  of  the  world. 

44  Corrigible  for  corrective.  This  comes  under  the  same  head  as  that  in 
note  39.  Adjectives  ending  in  -able  or  -ible  are  often  used  thus  by  Shake- 
speare,    See  vol.  V.  page  223,  note  3. 


^, 


190  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

sensuality,  the  blood  and  baseness  of  our  natures  would  con- 
duct us  to  most  preposterous  conclusions  :  but  we  have  rea- 
son to  cool  our  raging  motions,  our  carnal  stings,  our  unbitted 
lusts ;  whereof  I  take  this  that  you  call  love  to  be  a  sect  or 
scion.^5  L  ,c^' 

Rod.    It  cannot  be. 

lago.  It  is  merely  a  lust  of  the  blood  and  a  permission 
of  the  will.  Come,  be  a  man :  drown  thyself !  drown  cats 
and  blind  puppies.  I  have  profess'd  me  thy  friend,  and  I 
confess  me  knit  to  thy  deserving  with  cables  of  perdurable 
toughness  ;  I  could  never  better  stead  thee  than  now.  Put 
money  in  thy  purse  ;  follow  thou  the  wars  ;  defeat  thy  favour  ^^  ,  f^i^ 
with  an  usurp'd  beard  ;  I  say,  put  money  in  thy  purse.  It 
cannot  be  that  Desdemona  should  long  continue  her  love  to 
the  Moor,  —  put  money  in  thy  purse,  —  nor  he  his  to  her  :  it 
was  a  violent  commencement,  and  thou  shalt  see  an  answer- 
able sequestration  ;"*'  —  put  but  money  in  thy  purse.  These 
Moors  are  changeable  in  their  wills  ;  — ■  fill  thy  purse  with 
money  :  —  tlie  food  that  to  him  now  is  as  luscious  as  locusts  ''^ 
shall  be  to  him  shortly  as  bitter  as  coloquintida.  She  must 
change  for  youth  :  when  she  is  sated  with  his  body,  she  will 
find  the  error  of  her  choice  :  she  must  have  change,  she 
must ;  therefore  put  money  in  thy  purse.  If  thou  wilt  needs 
damn   thyself,  do  it  a  more  delicate  way  than  drowning. 

45  A  sect  is  what  the  gardeners  call  a  cutting.  —  "  This  speech,"  says  Cole- 
ridge, "  comprises  the  passionless  character  of  lago.  It  is  all  will  in  intel- 
lect ;  and  therefore  he  is  here  a  bold  partisan  of  a  truth,  but  yet  of  a  truth 
converted  into  a  falsehood  by  the  absence  of  all  the  necessary  modifications 
caused  by  the  frail  nature  of  man." 

■iB  Defeat  '-'as  used  for  disfiguj-evient  or  alteration  of  features  :  from  the 
French  defaire.     Favour  is  countenance. 

■*■?  Sequestration  is  defined  to  be  "  a  putting  apart,  a  separation  of  a  thing 
from  the  possession  of  both  those  that  contend  for  it." 

^^  Alluding,  probably,  to  the  ceratonia  or  carob,  an  evergreen  growing  in 
the  south  of  Europe,  and  bearing  sweet  black  pods.  Commerce  had  made 
the  fruit  well  known  in  London,  and  locust  Via?,  the  popular  name  for  it. 


-f^ 


{ 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  I9I 

Make  all  the  money  thou  canst :  if  sanctimony  and  a  frail 
vow  betwixt  an  erring  ^^  barbarian  and  a  supersubtle  Venetian 
be  not  too  hard  for  my  wits  and  all  the  tribe  of  Hell,  thou 
shalt  enjoy  her  ;  therefore  make  money.  A  pox  of  drowning 
thyself !  it  is  clean  out  of  the  way  :  seek  thou  rather  to  be 
hang'd  in  compassing  thy  joy  than  to  be  drown 'd  and  go 
without  her. 

Rod.  Wilt  thou  be  fast  to  my  hopes,  if  I  depend  on  the 
issue? 

lago.  Thou  art  sure  of  me  ;  —  go,  make  money.  I  have 
told  thee  often,  and  I  re-tell  thee  again  and  again,  I  hate  the 
Moor  :  my  cause  is  hearted  ;  thme  hath  no  less  reason.  Let 
us  be  conjunctive  in  our  revenge  against  him  :  if  thou  canst 
cuckold  him,  thou  dost  thyself  a  pleasure,  me  a  sport.  There 
are  many  events  in  the  womb  of  time,  which  will  be  delivered. 
Traverse  ;  ^^  go,  provide  thy  money.  We  will  have  more  of 
this  to-morrow.     Adieu. 

Rod.    Where  shall  we  meet  i'  the  morning? 

lago.    At  my  lodging. 

Rod.    I'll  be  with  thee  betimes. 

lago.    Go  to  ;  farewell.     Do  you  hear,  Roderigo  ? 

Rod.    What  say  you  ? 

lago.    No  more  of  drowning,  do  you  hear? 

Rod.    I  am  changed  :   I'll  go  sell  all  my  land. 

lago.    Go  to  ;  farewell :  put  money  enough  in  your  purse.  — 

\^Exit  Roderigo. 
Thus  do  I  ever  make  my  fool  my  purse  ; 
For  I  mine  own  gain'd  knowledge  should  profane. 
If  I  would  time  expend  with  such  a  snipe. 
But  for  my  sport  and  profit.     I  hate  the  Moor ; 
And  it  is  thought  abroad,  that  'twixt  my  sheets 


■^9  Erri7ig  is  here  used  in  its  Latin  sense  of  erratic  or  wandering. 
S*'  Traverse  is  lirri'  n^^cd  as  a  military  term,  for  march. 


192  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

He's  done  my  office  :  I  know  not  if't  be  true  ; 

But  I,  for  mere  suspicion  in  that  kind,  ,     , 

Will  do  as  if  for  surety.^i     He  holds  me  well;   ^^^.^  j^^^L^^^  W 

The  better  shall  my  purpose  work  on  him.  ^  A^».4Jt 

Cassio's  a  proper  ^^  man  :  let  me  see  now  ;  ' 

To  get  his  place,  and  to  plume  up  my  will  .^s^e^yA-*^  (>p^' 

In  double  knavery  —  How,  how?     Let's  see  : —    -,/  ->Cj»— 

After  some  time,  t'  abuse  Othello's  ear 

That  he  is  too  familiar  with  his  wife  :  ^,  ^^^^,,(^'.<_^^_ 

He  hath  a  person,  and  a  smooth  dispose,^^         / 

To  be  suspected  ;  framed  to  make  women  false. 

The  Moor  is  of  a  free  and  open  nature, 

That  thmks  men  honest  that  but  seem  to  be  so ; 

And  will  as  tenderly  be  led  by  th'  nose 

As  asses  are. 

I  have't ;  it  is  engender'd  :   Hell  and  night 

Must  bring  this  monstrous  birth  to  the  world's  light.     {^Exit. 


ACT   H. 

Scene  I.  —  A  seaport  Town  tti  Cyprus}     A  Platform. 

Enter  Montano  and  two  Gentlemen. 

Mon.   What  from  the  cape  can  you  discern  at  sea? 
I  Gent.   Nothing  at  all :  it  is  a  high-wrought  flood  ; 

51  I  will  at  as  if  I  were  certain  of  the  fact.    "  He  holds  me  well"  is,  he 
entertains  a  good  opinion  of  me. 

62  Proper  here,  as  very  often  in  these  plays,  means  handsome. 

63  Dispose  for  disposition.    Shakespeare  has  a  good  many  words  shortened 
in  much  the  same  way.     See  vol.  xv.  page  104,  note  12. 

1  The  principal  seaport  town  of  Cyprus  is  Famagusta  ;  where  there  was 
formerly  a  strong  fort  and  commodious  haven,  "  neare  which,"  says  Knolles, 


scene;.  the    moor    of    VENICE.  1 93 

I  cannot  'twixt  the  heaven  and  the  main 
Descry  a  sail. 

Mon.    Methinks  the  wind  hath  spoke  aloud  at  land  ; 
A  fuller  blast  ne'er  shook  our  battlements  : 
If  it  hath  ruffian 'd  so  upon  the  sea, 
What  ribs  of  oak,  when  mountains  melt  on  them, 
Can  hold  the  mortise  ?     What  shall  we  hear  of  this  ? 

2  Gent.    A  segregation  of  the  Turkish  fleet : 
For,  do  but  stand  upon  the  foaming  shore, 
The  chiding  billow  seems  to  pelt  the  clouds  ; 

The  wind-shaked  surge,  with  high  and  monstrous  mane,^ 
Seems  to  cast  water  on  the  burning  bear,^ 
And  quench  the  guards  of  th'  ever-fixed  pole  : 
I  never  did  like  molestation  view 
On  the  enchafed  flood. 

Moji.  If  that  the  Turkish  fleet 

Be  not  enshelter'd  and  embay'd,  they're  drown'd ; 
It  is  impossible  they  bear  it  out. 

Etiter  a  third  Gentleman. 

J  Gent.    News,  lads  !  our  wars  are  done. 
The  desperate  tempest  hath  so  bang'd  the  Turks, 
That  their  designment  halts  :   a  noble  ship  of  Venice 
Hath  seen  a  grievous  wreck  and  sufferance 
On  most  part  of  their  fleet. 

Mon.    How!  is  this  true? 

J  Gent.  The  ship  is  here  put  in, 

"  standeth  an  old  castle,  with  four  towers  after  the  ancient  manner  of  build- 
ing."    To  this  castle  we  find  that  Othello  presently  repairs. 

-  There  is  implied  a  comparison  of  the  "  wind-shaked  surge  "  to  the  war- 
horse  ;  the  Poet  probably  having  in  mind  the  passage  of  Job  :  "  Hast  thou 
given  the  horse  strength  ?     Hast  thou  clothed  his  neck  with  thunder  ?  " 

3  The  constellation  near  the  polar  star.  The  next  line  alludes  to  the  star 
Arctophylax,  which  literally  signifies  the  guard  of  the  bear. 


194  '  OTHELLO,  ACT  II 

La  Veroncsa  ;  ^  Michael  Cassio, 
Lieutenant  to  the  warlike  Moor  Othello, 
Is  come  on  shore  :  the  Moor  himself  s  at  sea, 
And  is  in  full  commission  here  for  Cyprus. 

Mon.    I'm  glad  on't ;   'tis  a  worthy  governor. 

J  Gent    But   this   same    Cassio,  —  though    he   speak   of 
comfort 
Touching  the  Turkish  loss,  yet  he  looks  sadly, 
And  prays  the  Moor  be  safe  ;  for  they  were  parted 
With  foul  and  violent  tempest. 

Mon.  Pray  Heavens  he  be  ; 

For  I  have  served  him,  and  the  man  commands 
Like  a  full  soldier.^     Let's  to  the  seaside,  ho  ! 
As  well  to  see  the  vessel  that's  come  in 
As  to  throw  out  our  eyes  for  brave  Othello, 
Even  till  we  make  the  main  and  th'  aerial  blue 
An  indistinct  regard.*' 

J  Gent.  Come,  let's  do  so  ; 

For  every  minute  is  expectancy 

Of  more  arrivance. 

Enter  Cassio. 

Cas.    Thanks  to  the  valiant  of  this  warlike  isle, 
That  so  approve  the  Moor  !     O,  let  the  Heavens 
Give  him  defence  against  the  elements, 
For  I  have  lost  him  on  a  dangerous  sea  ! 

*  Veronesa  refers  to  the  ship.  It  is  true,  the  same  speaker  lias  just  called 
the  ship  "  a  noble  ship  of  Ve7iice  "/  but  Verona  was  tributary  to  the  Vene- 
tian State ;  so  that  there  is  no  reason  why  she  might  not  belong  to  Venice, 
and  still  take  her  name  from  Verona. 

5  "  A  full  soldier  "  is  a  complete  ox  finished  soldier.    See  page  165,  note  14. 

6  That  is,  "  till,  to  our  vision,  the  sea  and  the  sky  so  melt  into  each  other 
as  to  be  indistinguis/iable."  —  Here  may  be  fitly  quoted  one  of  Coleridge's 
notes  :  "  Observe  in  how  many  ways  Othello  is  made,  first  our  acquaintance, 
then  our  friend,  then  the  object  of  our  anxiety,  before  the  deeper  mterest  is 
to  be  approached." 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 

Mo7i.   Is  he  well  shipp'd  ? 

Cas.    His  bark  is  stoutly  timber'd,  and  his  pilot 
Of  very  Expert  and  approved  allowance  ; ''    ■ 
Therefore  my  hopes,  not  suffocate  to  death, 
Stand  in  bold  cure.^        '  .^ 

[  IVithiti.']  A  sail,  a  sail,  a  sail ! 

Enter  a  fourth  Gentleman. 

Cas.   What  noise  ? 

4  Gent.   The  town  is  empty ;  on  the  brow  o'  the  sea 
Stand  ranks  of  people,  and  they  cry  A  sail ! 

Cas.    My  hopes  do  shape  him  for  the  governor. 

\^Gitiis  heard. 

2  Gent.    They  do  discharge  their  shot  of  courtesy  : 
Our  friends  at  least. 

Cas.  I  pray  you,  sir,  go  forth, 

And  give  us  truth  who  'tis  that  is  arrived. 

2  Gent.    I  shall.  \^Exit 

Mon.    But,  good  lieutenant,  is  your  general  wived  ? 

Cas.    Most  fortunately  :   he  hath  achieved  a  maid 
That  paragons  description  and  wild  fame  ; 
One  that  excels  the  quirks  of  blazoning  pens, 
And  in  th'  essential  vesture  of  creation     ^<XC«--*-'-Cu\.««^^*'lA*v>*v-^ 


Does  tire  the  ingener,^^^^<^,,,^Cl.^ 


'  Of  a//o7vi'd  and  approved  expertness.  Allowance,  in  old  English,  some- 
times means  estimation.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  226,  note  6. 

8  Cassio,  though  anxious,  docs  not  despair ,  and  the  meaning  of  "  Stand 
in  bold  cure  "  seems  to  be,  "  my  hopes,  though  near  dying,  stay  themselves 
upon,  or  are  kept  alive  by,  bold  conjecture  " ;  or,  it  may  be,  "  are  confident 
of  being  cured."  See  vol.  xv.  page  100,  note  15.  —  Suffocate,  of  course,  for 
suffocated.  So  in  Troiliis  and  Cressida,  i.  3  '  "  This  chaos,  when  degree  is 
suffocate,  follows  the  choking."  Shakespeare  has  many  preterites  formed  in 
the  same  way;  as  "one  of  an  ingraft  infirmity,"  in  the  third  scene  of  this 
Act. 

^  By  "  the  essential  vesture  of  creation  "  the  Poet  means,  apparently,  her 
oui-ujuid/.i/:.:,\\\\ich  in  The  Merchant  of  I'enicc  he  calls  "  the  muddy  v^J. 


196  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

Re-enter  second  Gentleman. 

How  now  !  who  has  put  in  ? 

2  Gent    'Tis  one  lago,  ancient  to  the  general. 

Cas.    He's  had  most  favourable  and  happy  speed. 
Tempests  themselves,  high  seas,  and  howling  winds, 
The  gutter'd  rocks,  and  congregated  sands,  — 
Traitors  ensteep'd  ^^  to  clog  the  guiltless  keel,  — 
As  having  sense  of  beauty,  do  omit 
Their  mortal  ^'  natures,  letting  go  safely  by 
The  divine  Desdemona. 

Mon.  What  is  she  ? 

Cas.    She  that  I  spake  of,  our  great  captain's  captain, 
Left  in  the  conduct  of  the  bold  lago ; 
Whose  footing  here  anticipates  our  thoughts 
A  se'nnight's  speed.  —  Great  God,  Othello  guard, 
And  swell  his  sail  with  Thine  own  powerful  breath, 
That  he  may  bless  this  bay  with  his  tall  ship. 
Make  love's  quick  pants  in  Desdemona's  arms, 
Give  renew'd  fire  to  our  extincted  spirits, 
And  bring  all  Cyprus  comfort  !  —  O,  behold. 

Enter  Desdemona,  Emilia,  Iago,  Roderigo,  and  Attendants. 

ture  of  decay."  The  meaning  of  the  whole  clause  seems  to  be,  "  She  is  one 
who  surpasses  all  description,  and  in  real  beauty,  or  outward  form,  goes  be- 
yond the  power  of  the  artist's  inventive  or  expressive  pencil."  It  appears 
that  inginer  or  ingener  was  sometimes  used  for  painter  or  artist.  So 
Jonson,  in  his  Sejamis,  i.  i .  "  No,  Silius,  we  are  no  good  inginers ,  we 
want  their  fine  arts."  And  Flecknoe,  speaking  of  painting,  1664 .  "  The 
stupendous  works  of  your  great  ingeniers."  —  For  this  use  oi  paragon,  see. 
vol.  xvi.  pa^e  32,  note  8. 

1"  Ensteep'd  here  means  simply  hid  in  the  water,  submerged ;  a  frequent 
use  of  the  word.     So  in  The  Faerie  Queene,  i.  11 : 

Now  gan  the  golden  Phoebus  for  to  stccpc 
His  fierie  face  in  billows  of  the  west. 

11  Mortal  is  deadly,  destructive  ;  the  more  common  meaning  of  the  word 
in  Shakespeare.     See  page  30,  note  6. 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  I97 

The  riches  of  the  ship  is  come  on  shore  ! 
Ye  men  of  Cyprus,  let  her  have  your  knees.  — 
Hail  to  thee,  lady  !  and  the  grace  of  Heaven, 
Before,  behind  thee,  and  on  every  hand, 
Enwheel  thee  round  ! 

Des.  I  thank  you,  valiant  Cassio. 

What  tidings  can  you  tell  me  of  my  lord  ? 

Cas.    He  is  not  yet  arrived  ;  nor  know  I  aught 
But  that  he's  well,  and  will  be  shortly  here. 

Des     O,  but  I  fear —  How  lost  you  company? 

Cas.    The  great  contention  of  the  sea  and  skies 
Parted  our  fellowship.     But,  hark  !  a  sail. 

{^WithiiiA^    A  sail,  a  sail  !  \_Guns  heard. 

2  Gent.    They  give  their  greeting  to  the  citadel : 
This  likewise  is  a  friend. 

Cas.  See  for  the  news.  — 

[^Exit  Gentleman. 
Good  ancient,  you  are  welcome  ;  —  \_To  Emilia.]  welcome, 

mistress.  — 
Let  it  not  gall  your  patience,  good  lago, 
That  I  extend  my  manners  ;  'tis  my  breeding 
That  gives  me  this  bold  show  of  courtesy.^-        \_Kissifig  her. 

lago.    Sir,  would  she  give  you  so  much  of  her  lips 
As  of  her  tongue  she  oft  bestows  on  me, 
You'd  have  enough. 

Des.  Alas,  she  has  no  speech. 

12  Observe  Othello's  "honest,"  and  Cassio's  " bold "  lago;  and  Cassio's 
full  guileless-hearted  wishes  for  the  safety  and  love-raptures  of  Othello  and 
"  the  divine  Desdemona."  And  note  also  the  exquisite  circumstance  of  Cas- 
sio's kissing  lago's  wife,  as  if  it  ought  to  be  impossible  that  the  dullest 
auditor  should  not  feel  Cassio's  religious  love  of  Desdemona's  purity.  lago's 
answers  are  the  sneers  which  a  proud  bad  intellect  feels  towards  women,  and 
expresses  to  a  wife.  Surely  it  ought  to  be  considered  a  very  exalted  compli- 
ment to  women,  that  all  the  sarcasms  on  them  in  Shakespeare  are  put  in  the 
mouths  of  villains.  —  COLERIDOE. 


Sv. 


£q8  OTHELLO,  ACT  II, 

lago.    In  faith,  too  much  ; 
I  find  it  still,  when  I  have  list  to  sleep : 
Marry,  before  your  ladyship,  I  grant. 
She  puts  her  tongue  a  little  in  her  heart, 
And  chides  with  thinking. 

Emil.   You  have  little  cause  to  say  so. 

lago.    Come  on,  come  on  ;  you're  pictures  out  of  doors, 
Bells  in  your  parlours,  wild-cats  in  your  kitchens. 
Saints  in  your  injiiEies,!^  devils  being  offended, 
Players  in  your  housewifery,  and  housewives  in  your  beds. 

Des.    O,  fie  upon  thee,  slanderer  ! 

lago.    Nay,  it  is  true,  or  else  I  am  a  Turk  : 
You  rise  to  play,  and  go  to  bed  to  work. 

Emil.    You  shall  not  write  my  praise. 

Jacro.  No,  let  me  not. 

Des.    What  wouldst  thou  write  of  me,  if  thou   shouldst 
praise  me? 

lago.    O  gentle  lady,  do  not  put  me  to't ; 
For  I  am  nothing,  if  not  critical. 

Des.    Come  on,  assay.     There's  one  gone  to  the  harbour? 

lago.    Ay,  madam. 

Des.    I  am  not  merry  ;  but  I  do  beguile 
The  thing  I  am,  by  seeming  otherwise. 
Come,  how  wouldst  thou  praise  me  ? 

Ia^:^o.    I  am  about  it ;  but,  indeed,  my  invention 
Comes  from  my  pate  as  birdlime  does  Irom  frieze,  — 
It  plucks  out  brains  and  all :  but  my  Muse  labours, 
And  thus  she  is  deliver'd  : 
If  she  be  fair  and  wise,  —  fairness  and  wit, 
The  one's  for  use,  the  other  useth  it. 

Des.    Well  praised  '     How  if  she  be  black  and  witty  ? 

lago.    If  she  be  black,  and  thereto  have  a  wit, 

13  "  When  you  have  a  mind  to  do  injuries,  you  put  on  an  air  of  sanctity." 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  I99 

She'll  find  a  white  that  shall  her  blackness  fit. 

Des.    Worse  and  worse, 

Emil.    How  if  fair  and  foolish? 

lago.    She  never  yet  was  foolish  that  was  fair ; 
For  even  her  folly  help'd  her  to  an  heir. 

Des.  These  are  old  fond  paradoxes  to  make  fools  laugh 
i'  the  ale-house.  What  miserable  praise  hast  thou  for  her 
that's  foul  and  foolish? 

lago.    There's  none  so  foul,  and  foolish  thereunto, 
But  does  foul  pranks  which  fair  and  wise  ones  do. 

Des.  O  heavy  ignorance  !  thou  praisest  the  worst  best. 
But  what  praise  couldst  thou  bestow  on  a  deserving  woman 
indeed  ;  one  that,  in  the  authority  of  her  merit,  did  justly 
put  on  the  vouch  of  very  malice  itself  ? 'i ,^jt«-£iZ4<u..' A--*'*-*-*-'**-  '^ 

liigo.    She  that  was  ever  fair,  and  never  proud ;  ^^  ^tc-i-l*-**'  -  ^ 
Had  tongue  at  will,  and  yet  was  never  loud  ;  l'-<\  «-  •t«-tvy  ^t^o^ ' 

Never  lack'd  gold,  and  yet  went  never  gay  ;  ^  ^" 

Fled  from  her  wish,  and  yet  said  Now  I  may  ; 
She  that,  being  anger'd,  her  revenge  being  nigh, 
P.ade  her  wrong  stay,  and  her  displeasure  fly  ;  ^A^         •ju' 
She  that  in  wisdom  never  was  so  Jrail-'-    ^^''        ,    "-^-^^'^ 
To  change  the  cod's  fiead  for  the  salmon's  tail  ;^^        . 
She  that  could  think,  and  ne'er  disclose  her  mind; 
See  suitors  following,  and  not  look  behind ; 
She  was  a  wight,  if  ever  such  wight  were,  — • 

Des.    To  do  what? 

Jago.    — To  suckle  fools  and  chronicle  small  beer.16 

1^  "  The  sense,"  say  Warburton,  "  is  this  :  One  that  was  so  conscious  of 
her  own  merit,  and  of  the  authority  her  character  had  with  every  one,  that 
she  durst  call  upon  malice  itself  to  vouch  for  her.  This  was  strong  commen- 
dation. And  the  character  only  of  clearest  virtue ;  which  could  force  malice, 
even  against  its  nature,  to  do  justice."  —  To  put  on  is  to  provoke,  to  incite. 

15  The  head  was  esteemed  the  best  part  of  a  codfish,  the  tail  the  worst  of 
a  salmon.     The  two  are  here  put  for  delicate  and  coarse  fare  in  general. 

16  That  is,  to  suckle  children  and  keep  the  accounts  of  the  household. 


^^y 


200  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

Z>(fj.  O  most  lame  and  impotent  conclusion  !  —  Do  not 
learn  of  him,  Emilia,  though  he  be  thy  husband.  —  How 
say  you,  Cassio?  is  he  not  a  most  profane  and  liberal  ^^  cen- 
surer?  -'  ■-  "^'t-^^,^ 

Cas.  He  speaks  home,  madam  :  you  may  relish  him  more 
in  the  soldier  than  in  the  scholar. 

/ago.    \_Aside.'\    He  takes  her  by  the  palm  :  ay,  well  said,        M^ 
whisper :  with  as  little  a  web  as  this  will  I  ensnare  as_great^.Y 
a  fly  as  Cassio.     Ay,  smile  upon  her,  do  ;  I  will  gyVe  thee  in 
thine    own  courtship. ^^     You  say  true;    'tis  so,  indeed:    if 
such  tricks  as  these  strip  you  out  of  your  lieutenantry,  it  had 
been  better  you  had  not  kiss'd  your  three  fingers  so  oft,  which 
now  again  you  are  most  apt  to  play  the  sir  iiC^     Vefygood  ;"*    P 
well   kiss'd!    an  excellent  courtesy!    'tis   so,    indeed.     YetcV^  . t>^ 
again  your  fingers  to  your  lips?    would    they  were    clyster-    "'■ 
pipes   for  your    sake!  —  {^Trumpet  7infliiu.'\    The  Moor!   I 
know  his  trumpet. 

Cas.    'Tis  truly  so. 

Des.    Let's  meet  him,  and  receive  him. 

Cas.    Lo,  where  he  comes  ! 

Enter  Othello  a7id  Attendants. 

0th.    O  my  fair  warrior  !  -^ 
^    Des.  My  dear  Othello  ! 

0th.    It  gives  me  wonder  great  as  my  content 
To  see  you  here  before  me.     O  my  soul's  joy  ! 

1'  Liberal  was  very  often  used  in  the  sense  of  loose-spoken  or  licentious. 

"^^  To  gyve  is  io  fetter,  to  shackle.  It  may  be  as  well  to  observe  that  court- 
skip  is  the  sp  ne  as  courtesy,  that  is,  complimentary  or  courtly  behaviour. 

19  To  play  the  sir  is  to  show  good  breeding  and  gallantry. 

2"  Perhaps  Othello  intends  a  playful  allusion  to  the  unwillingness  Desde- 
inona  has  expressed  to  "  be  left  behind,  a  moth  of  peace,  and  he  go  to  the 
war."  Steevens,  however,  thinks  it  was  a  term  of  endearment  derived  from 
the  old  French  Poets ;  as  Ronsard,  in  his  Sonnets,  often  calls  the  ladies 
guirrieres. 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  201 

If  after  every  tempest  come  such  calms, 

May  the  winds  blow  till  they  have  waken'd  death  ! 

And  let  the  labouring  bark  climb  hills  of  seas 

Olympus-high,  and  duck  again  as  low 

As  Hell's  from  Heaven  !     If  it  were  now  to  die, 

'Twere  now  to  be  most  happy  ;  for,  I  fear, 

My  soul  hath  her  content  so  absolute. 

That  not  another  comfort  like  to  this 

Succeeds  in  unknown  fate. 

Des.  The  Heavens  forbid 

But  that  our  loves  and  comforts  should  increase, 
Even  as  our  days  do  grow  ! 

0th.  Amen  to  that,  sweet  powers  !  — ■ 

I  cannot  speak  enough  of  this  content ; 
It  stops  me  here  ;  it  is  too  much  of  joy  : 
And  this,  and  this,  the  greatest  discords  be  {^Kissing  her. 

That  e'er  our  hearts  shall  make  ! 

lago.    [AsiWe.]  O,  you  are  well  tuned  now  ! 

But  I'll  set  down  the  pegs  that  make  this  music, 
As  honest  as  I  am.-^   • 

0/h.  Come,  let  us  to  the  castle.  — 

News,  friends  ;  our  wars  are  done,  the  Turks  are  drown'd. 
How  does  my  old  acquaintance  of  this  isle?  — 
Honey,  you  shall  be  well  desired  in  Cyprus ; 
I've  found  great  love  amongst  them.     O  my  sweet, 
I  prattle  out  of  fashi^oiij^-  anci  I  dote  /  ■  v,wv.»v 

In  mine  own  comforts.  —  I  pr'ythee,  good  lago,      c-^/.^  ■ 

21  Coleridge  pronounces  lago  "  a  being  next  to  devil,  and  only  not  quite 
devil."  It  is  worth  noting  that  Milton's  Satan  relents  at  the  prospect  of 
ruining  the  happiness  before  him,  and  prefaces  the  deed  with  a  gush  of  pity 
for  the  victims ;  whereas  the  same  thought  puts  lago  in  a  transport  of  jubi- 
lant ferocity.  Is  our  idea  of  Satan's  wickedness  enhanced  by  his  thus  in- 
dulging such  feelings,  and  then  acting  in  defiance  of  them,  or  as  if  he  had 
them  not  ?  or  is  lago  more  devilish  than  he  ? 

■-'"-  Out  of  method   without  any  settled  order  of  discourse. 


202  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

Go  to  the  bay  and  disembark  my  coffers  : 

Bring  thou  the  master  to  the  citadel ; 

He  is  a  good  one,  and  his  worthiness 

Does  challenge  much  respect.  — Come,  Desdemona, 

V  Once  more  well  met  at  Cyprus. 

[/car//;;/ Othello,  Desdemona,  ^i'/;// Attendants. 
/ago.    Do  thou  meet  me  presently  at  the  harbour.     Come 

Y  hither.  It  thou  be'st  valiant,  — as,  they  say,  base  men  being 
^  in  love  have  then  a  nobility  in  their  natures  more  than  is 
f  native  to  them,  —  list  me.  The  lieutenant  to-night  watches 
on  4b^£ourt-of-guard.-3  First,  I  must  tell  thee  this,  Desde- 
mona is  directly  in  love  with  him. 

/?0{/.    With  him  !  why,  'tis  not  ])ossible. 

/ago.  Lay  thy  finger  thus,-"*  and  let  thy  soul  be  instructed. 
Mark  me  with  what  violence  she  first  loved  the  Moor,  but 
^  for  bragging,  and  telling  her  fantastical  lies  :  and  will  she 
y  love  him  still  for  prating?  let  not  thy  discreet  heart  think  it. 
Her  eye  must  be  fed  ;  and  what  delight  shall  she  have  to 
look  on  the  Devil  ?  -^  When  the  blood  is  made  dull  with  the 
act  of  sport,  there  should  be  —  again  to  inflame  it,  and  to 
give  satiety  a  fresh  appetite  —  loveliness  in  favour,  sympathy  y 
in  years,  manners,  and  beauties ;  all  which  the  Moor  is  de-  a' 
fective  in.  Now,  for  want  of  these  required  conveniences,^*' 
her  delicate  tenderness  will  find  itself  abused,  begin  to  heave 
the  gorge,  disrelish  and  abhor  the  Moor ;  very  nature  will  in- 
struct her  in  it,  and  compel  her  to  some  second  choice.  Now, 
sir,  this  granted, — as  it  is  a  most  pregnant  ^^  and  unforceff 
position,  —  who  stands  so  eminent  in  the  degree  of  this  for- 
tune as  Cassio  does?  a  knave  very  voluble;  no  further  con- 

23  The  place  where  the  guard  musters. 

^-t  On  thy  mouth  to  stop  it,  while  thou  art  listening  to  a  wiser  man. 

-5  Another  characteristic  fling  at  Othello's  colour.    See  page  i66,  note  17. 

26  Convenience  in  the  Latin  sense  oi  fitness,  harmony,  accordance. 

2T  Pregnant  \s  pliihi,  manifest,  or  full  0/ proof  in  itself 


IsCENE  I.      "^'  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  203 


,/• 


•scionable  than  in  putting  on  the  mere  form  of  ci\'il  and  hu- 
mane seeming,  for  the  better  compassing  of  his  salt  -»  and 
most  hidden-loose  affection  ?  why,  none ;  why,  none  :  a 
slipper  and  subtle  knave  ;  a  finder-out  of  occasions  ;  that 
has  an  eye  can  stamp  and  counterfeit  advantages,  though  true 
advantage  never  present  itself;  a  devilish  knave  !  Besides, 
the  knave  is  handsome,  young,  and  hath  all  those  requisites 
in  him  that  folly  and  green  minds  look  after :  a  pestilent- 
complete  knave  ;  and  the  woman  hath  found  him  already. 

Rod.  I  cannot  beheve  that  in  her;  she's  full  of  most 
blessed  conditioii.iL.  S'-U-^-ajK^'-^  < 

/ago.  Blessed  fig's-end  !  the  wine  she  drinks  is  made  of 
grapes  :  if  she  had  been  bless'd,  she  would  never  have  loved 
the  Moor.  Blessed  pudding  !  Didst  thou  not  see  her  paddle 
with  the  palm  of  his  hand  ?  didst  not  mark  that  ? 

J?od.   Yes,  that  I  did  ;  but  that  was  but  courtejy: 

/ago.  Lechery,  by  this  hand  ;  an  index  ^o  and  obscure  pro 
logue  to  the  history  of  lust  and  foul  thoughts.  They  met 
so  near  with  their  lips,  that  their  breaths  embraced  together. 
Villainous  thoughts,  Roderigo  !  when  these  mutualities  so 
marshal  the  way,  hard  at  hand  comes  the  master  and  main 
exercise,  the  incorporate  conclusion  :  pish  !  But,  sir,  be  you 
ruled  by  me :  I  have  brought  you  from  Venice.  Watch 
you  to-night ;  for  the  command,  I'll  lay't  upon  you  :  Cassio 
knows  you  not.  I'll  nut  be  far  from  you  :  do  you  find  some 
occasion   to   anger  Cassio,  either  by  speaking  too   loud,  or 

28  This  peculiar  use  of  sa/i  occurs  several  times  in  Shakespeare.  So  in 
Measure  for  Measure,  v.  i :  "  Whose  salt  imagination  yet  hath  wrong'd 
your  well-defended  honour."  —  Hidden-loose  is  secretly  lice?ifioiis.  A  similar 
phrase  occurs  in  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  ii.  i :  "  His  course 
is  so  irregular,  so  loose-affected  and  depriv'd  of  grace."  Here  loose-affected 
is  licentiously  disposed.  —  Conscionable,  line  before,  is  conscientious. 

29  Condition,  as  usual,  for  temper  or  disposition.  Qualities  of  mind  and 
heart  in  general  were  included  under  the  term. 

30  Indexes  were  formerly  prefixed  to  books.    See  vol.  xiv.  page  248,  note  5. 


204  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

tainting   his   discipline ;  ^i    or  from    what    other   course    you 
please,  which  the  time  shall  more  favourably  minister. 
•    .   Rod.    Well. 
(S     iago.    Sir,   he   is   rash,    and   very   sudden   in    choler,   and 
f     haply  may  strike    at  you  :    provoke    him,  that  he  may  ;  for 
even  out  of  that  will  I  cause  these  of  Cyprus   to  mutiny  ; 
^   whose  qualification^-  shall  come  into  no  true  taste  again  but 
by  the  displanting  of  Cassio.     So  shall  you  have  a  shorter 
journey  to  your  desires,  by  the  means  I  shall  then  have  to 
prefer  them  ;  and  the  impediment  most  profitably  removed, 
without    the  which  there  were  no  expectation  of  our  pros- 
perity. 

Rod.    I  will  do  this,  if  I  can  bring  it  to  any  opportunity. 
lago.    I  warrant  thee.     Meet  me  by-and-by  at  the  citadel : 
I  must  fetch  his  necessaries  ashore.     Farewell. 

Rod.    Adieu.  \^Exit.     , 

lago.    That  Cassio  loves  her,  I  do  well  believe  it ;  \Xj^^ 

*     That  she  loves  him,  'tis  apt,  and  of  great  credit :  ?L  Jl'''^^^^ 
The  Moor  —  howbeit  that  I  endure  him  not  — 
Is  of  a  constant-loving  noble  nature  ; 
,      And  I  dare  think  he'll  prove  to  Desdemona 

A  most  dear  husband.     Now,  I  do  love  her  too ; 
Not  out  of  absolute  lust,  —  though  peradventure 
I  stand  accountant  for  as  great  a  sin,  — 
But  partly  led  to  diet  my  revenge, 
For  that  I  do  suspect  the  lusty  Moor 
Hath  leap'd  into  my  seat :  the  thought  whereof 
Doth,  like  a  poisonous  mineral,  gnaw  my  inwards 
,     And  nothing  can  or  shall  content  my  soul 
\ 

31  Throwing  a  slur  upon  his  discipline. 

3-  Qualification,  in  our  old  writers,  signifies  appeasement,  pacification 
assuagement  of  anger.  "  To  appease  and  qualifie  one  that  is  angry ;  tran- 
quillum  facere  ex  irato."  —  Baret. 

33  Credit  for  credibility,  aptness  to  be  believed. 


SCENK  1.  THE    MOOR    OF    VEXICE.  ,.,;     205  •    y) 

A'-        r 

Till  I  am  even'd  with  him,  wife  for  wife  ;       /i^^\  t/^"^ 

Or  failing  so,  yet  that  I  put  the  Moor  ^-^^  K>^ 

At  least  into  a  jealousy  so  strong  J"^ 

That  judgment  cannot  cure.     Which  thing  to  do,  -^  ■\  j  ^^ 

If  this  poor  brach  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash  •^-'*  ■<,-r'      ' 

For  his  quick  hunting,  stand  the  puttixigion,^^     ^^^^''m  k 

I'll  have  our  Michael  Cassio  on  the  hip  ;  r^.    -l*-'^'' 

Abuse  him  to  the  Moor  in  the  rank  garb^^       ^y.jn.'^h " 

For  I  fear  Cassio  with  my  night-cap  too  ; 

Make  the  Moor  thank  me,  love  me,  and  reward  me, 

For  making  him  egregiously  an  ass. 

And  practising  upon  his  peace  and  quiet 

Even  to  madness.-^"     'Tis  here,  but  yet  confused  : 

Knavery's  plain  face  is  never  seen  till  used.  \_Exit, 

3-4  Brack,  according  to  an  old  definition  in  Spelman's  Glossary,  is  a 
scenting  dog,  "  or  any  fine-nosed  hound."  To  trash  is  to  check,  restrain,  or 
keep  back,  as  when  a  hound  is  too  eager  and  forward  in  the  chase.  The 
word  is  fitly  used  here  of  Roderigo  who,  in  his  quest  of  Desdemona,  is  too 
impatient  for  the  end  to  stay  for  what  lago  deems  the  necessary  operation 
of  time  and  means.  See  vol.  vii.  page  17,  note  19,  and  vol.  ii.  page  141, 
note  10. 

35  The  figure  of  a  hound  is  still  kept  up.  "  The  putting-on  "  is  the  incit- 
ing or  the  setting-on,  as  of  dogs  ;  so  explained  in  note  14  of  this  scene.  lago's 
thought  appears  to  be  that  Roderigo  may  not  hold  out  in  his  quest ;  that  from 
his  very  eagerness  he  may  grow  weary  of  the  instigations,  and  give  over  in 
disgust,  or  refuse  to  stand  through  the  process. 

^^"\nX\\z  rank  garb"  is  merely  in  the  right-down,  or  straight-forward 
style.  In  King  Lear,  Cornwall  says  of  Kent  in  disguise,  that  he  "  doth 
affect  a  saucy  roughness,  and  constrains  the  garb  quite  from  his  nature." 
Gower  says  of  Fluellen,  in  King  Henry  V.,  "  You  thought,  because  he  could 
not  speak  English  in  the  native  garb,  he  could  not  therefore  handle  an  Eng- 
lish cudgel." 

S'  Here  we  have,  perhaps,  the  most  appalling  outcome  of  lago's  proper 
character,  namely,  a  pride  of  intellect,  or  lust  of  the  brain,  which  exults 
above  all  things  in  being  able  to  make  himself  and  others  pass  for  just  the 
reverse  of  what  they  are ;  that  is,  in  being  an  overmatch  for  truth  and  Na- 
ture themselves.  And  this  soliloquy  is,  I  am  apt  to  think,  Shakespeare's 
supreme  instance  of  psychogogic  subtilty  and  insight ;  as  it  is  also  lago's 
most  pregnant  disclosure  of  his  real  springs  of  action,  or  what  Coleridge 


206  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

Scene  II.  —  AS//ref. 

Enter  a  Herald  7vith  a  Proclaination  ;  VQO\)\e  fo/loiuhig. 

Her.  It  is  Othello's  pleasure,  our  noble  and  \'aliant  gene- 
ral, that,  upon  certain  tidings  now  arrived,  importing  the 
mere  perdition  ^  of  the  Turkish  fleet,  every  man  r/ut  himself 
into  triumph  ;  some  to  dance,  some  to  make  bonfires,  each 
man  to  what  sport  and  revels  his  addiction  leads  him  :  for, 
besides  these  beneficial  news,  it  is  the  celebration  of  his 
nuptial.  So  much  was  his  pleasure  should  be  proclaim'd. 
All  offices-  are  open;  and  there  is  full  liberty  of  feasting 
from  this  present  hour  of  five  till  the  bell  have  told  eleven. 
Heaven  bless  the  isle  of  Cyprus  and  our  noble  general 
Othello  !  S^Exeunt. 

Scene  HI.  —  A  Hall  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  Othello,  Desdemona,  Cassio,  and  Attendants. 

Oth.    Good  Michael,  look  you  to  the  guard  to-night : 
Let's  teach  ourselves  that  honourable  stop, 
Not  to  outsport  discretion. 

Cas.    lago  hath  direction  what  to  do  ; 
But,  notwithstanding,  with  my  personal  eye 

aptly  calls  "  the  motive-hunting  of  a  motiveless  malignity."  For  it  is  not 
that  lago  really  believes  or  suspects  that  either  Cassio  or  Othello  has 
Wronged  him  in  the  \vay  he  intiiTiat^sl~TTels~mere"l3rseeking  to  opiate  er- 
appease  certain  quailms  of  conscience  by  a  sort  of  extemporized  make- 
believe  in  that  kind.  T+ie  purpose  he  has"  conceived  against  them  is,  as — 
Coleridge  says,"'  too  fiendish  for  his  own  steady  view,  —  for  the  lonely  gaze 
of  a  being  next  to  devil,  and  only  not  quite  devil." 

1  "  The  mere  perdition  "  is  the  entire  loss  or  destruction.  This  use  of 
mere  is  frequent  with  the  Poet. 

2  All  rooms  or  places  in  the  castle,  at  which  refreshments  are  prepared  or 
served  out.     See  page  40,  note  3. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  20/ 

Will  I  look  to't. 

0th.  lago  is  most  honest. 

Michael,  good  night :  to-morrow  with  your  earliest 
Let  me  have  speech  with  you.  —  {To  Desdemona.]    Come, 

my  dear  love, 
The  purchase  made,  the  fruits  are  to  ensue ; 
That  profit's  yet  to  come  'tween  me  and  you.  — 
Good  night.  \_Exeunt  Othello,  Desdemona,  and  Attendants. 

Enter  Iago. 

Cas.    Welcome,  Iago  ;  we  must  to  the  watch. 

Iago.  Not  this  hour,  lieutenant ;  'tis  not  yet  ten  o'  the 
clock.  Our  general  cast  us  >  thus  early  for  the  love  of  his 
Desdemona  ;  who  let  us  not  therefore  blame  :  he  hath  not 
yet  made  wanton  the  night  with  lier ;  and  she  is  sport  for 
Jove. 

Cas.    She's  a  most  exquisite  lady. 

Iago.    And,  I'll  warrant  her,  full  of  game. 

Cas.    Indeed,  she's  a  most  fresh  and  delicate  creature. 

Iago.  What  an  eye  she  has  !  methinks  it  sounds  a  parley 
to  provocation. 

Cas.    An  inviting  eye  ;  and  yet  methinks  right  modest. 

Iago.    And  when  she  speaks,  is  it  not  an  alarum  to  love  ? 

Cas.    She  is,  indeed,  perfection. 

Iago.  Well,  happiness  to  their  sheets  !  Come,  lieutenant, 
I  have  a  stoup  of  wine  ;  and  here  without  are  a  brace  of 
Cyprus  gallants  that  would  fain  have  a  measure  to  the  health 
of  black  Othello. 

Cas.  Not  to-night,  good  Iago  :  I  have  very  poor  and  un- 
happy brains  for  drinking.  I  could  well  wish  courtesy  would 
invent  some  other  custom  of  entertainment. 

1  "  Cast  us  "  is  dismissed  us  ;  rid  himself  of  our  company.  One  of  lago's 
sly  thrusts,  or  covert  slurs. 


V^ 


208  OTHELLO,  act  ii. 

lago.  O,  they  are  our  friends  ;  but  one  cup  :  I'll  drink 
for  you. 

Cas.  I  have  drunk  but  one  cup  to-night,  and  that  was 
craftily  qualified  too,-  and,  behold,  what  innovation  it  makes 
here  :  I  am  unfortunate  in  the  infirmity,  and  dare  not  task 
my  weakness  with  any  more. 

lago.  What,  man  !  'tis  a  night  of  revels :  the  gallants 
desire  it. 

Cass.    Where  are  they? 

lago.    Here  at  the  door;   I  pray  you,  call  them  in.. ; 

Cass.    I'll  do't ;  but  it  dislikes  me.3,iJU<2>JN^*-''^^^      \Exit. 

lago.    If  I  can  fasten  but  one  cup  upon  him, 
With  that  which  he  hath  drunk  to-night  already, 
He'll  be  as  full  of  quarrel  and  offence 

As  my  young  mistress'  dog.     Now,  my  sick  fool  Roderigo, 
Whom  love  hath  turn'd  almost  the  wrong  side  out, 
To  Desdemona  hath  to-night  caroused 
Potations  pottle-deep  ;  and  he's  to  watch  : 
Three  lads  of  Cyprus  — •  noble  swelling  spirits. 
That  hold  their  honours  in  a  wary  distance,''  ■- 
The  very  elements^  of  this  warlike  isle  — 
Have  I  to-night  fluster'd  with  flowing  cups, 
And  they  watch  too.     Now,  'mongst  this  flock  of  drunkards, 
Am  I  to  put  our  Cassio  in  some  action 
That  may  offend  the  isle.     But  here  they  come  : 
If  consequence  do  but  approve  my  dream,^ 

2  "  Craftily  qualified  "  is  slily  mixed  with  water,  diluted. 

3  "  It  dislikes  me  "  is  it  displeases  me,  or  /  dislike  it.     Often  so. 

*  Who  guard  their  honour  from  the  least  approach  to  insult ;  as  in  the 
description  of  a  soldier  in  As  You  Like  It,  "  Jealous  in  honour,  sudden  and 
quick  in  quarrel." 

5  As  quarrelsome  as  the  discordia  semina  rerum  ;  as  quick  in  opposition 
as  fire  and  water. 

6  Every  scheme  subsisting  only  in  the  imagination  may  be  termed  a 
dreavi.  —  Consequence  for  issue  or  result. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  2O9 

My  boat  sails  freely,  both  with  wind  and  stream. 

Re-enter  QhS&\0,  followed  by  Montano,  Gentlemen,  a^id  Ser- 
vant iviih  wine. 

I-  - 

Cas.    'Fore  God,  they  have  given  me  a  rouse "  already. 
Mon.    Good  faith,  a  little  one ;  not  past  a  pint,  as  I  am  a 
soldier. 

lago.    Some  wine,  ho  ! 

[Sings.]    And  let  me  the  canakin  cliiik,  clink  ; 
And  let  me  the  canakin  clink  I 
A  soldier's  a  man  ; 
A  life's  but  a  span  ; 
Why,  then  let  a  soldier  drink  / 

Some  wine,  boys  ! 

Cas.    'Fore  God,  an  excellent  song. 

lago.  I  learn'd  it  in  England,  where,  indeed,  they  are 
most  potent  in  potting  :  your  Dane,  your  German,  and  your 
swag-bellied  Hollander,  —  Drink,  ho  !  —  are  nothing  to  your 
English. 

Cas.    Is  your  Englishman  so  expert  in  his  drinking? 

lago.  Why,  he  drinks  you,  with  facility,  your  Dane  dead 
drunk ;  he  sweats  not  to  overthrow  your  Almain  ;  he  gives 
your  Hollander  a  vomit,  ere  the  next  pottle  can  be  fill'd.^ 

I 

7  Rouse  is  the  same  in  sense  and  in  origin  as  our  v\ord  carouSi'. 

8  In  The  Captain  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  one  of  the  persons  asks, 
"  Are  the  Englishmen  such  stubborn  drinkers  ?  "  and  another  answers  thus  : 
"  Not  a  leak  at  sea  can  suck  more  liquor :  you  shall  have  their  children 
christened  in  mull'd  sack,  and  at  five  years  old  able  to  knock  a  Pane  down." 
And  in  Henry  Peacham's  Compleat  Gentleman,  1622,  we  have  the  following : 
"  Within  these  fiftie  or  threescore  yeares  it  was  a  rare  thing  with  us  to  see  a 
dnniken  man.  But,  since  we  had  to  doe  in  the  quarrell  of  the  Netherlands, 
the  custom  of  drinking  and  pledging  healthes  was  brought  over  into  England  ; 
wherein  let  the  Dutch  be  their  owne  judges,  if  we  equall  them  not ;  yea,  I 
think,  rather  cxcell  them."  —  In  the  text,  as  elsewhere,  pottle  is  used  as  a 


2IO  OTHELLO,  ACT  II.       V"    P 

Cas.   To  the  health  of  our  general ! 

Alon.    I  am  for  it,  lieutenant ;  and  I'll  do  you  justice.^ 

lago.    O  sweet  England  ! 

[Sings.]    King  Stephen  was  a  worthy  peer, 

His  breeches  cost  him  but  a  crown  ; 
He  held  them  sixpence  all  too  dear, 
With  that  he  calFd  the  tailor  lown. 

He  was  a  wight  of  high  renown, 

And  thou  art  but  of  loiv  degree  : 
'Tis  pride  that  pulls  the  country  down  ; 

Then  take  thine  auld  cloak  about  tlieeP 

Some  wine,  ho  ! 

Cas.    Why,  this  is  a  more  exquisite  song  than  the  other. 

lago.    Will  you  hear't  again  ? 

Cas.  No ;  for  I  hold  him  to  be  unworthy  of  his  place 
that  does  those  things.  Well,  God's  above  all ;  and  there 
be  souls  must  be  saved,  and  there  be  souls  must  not  be 
saved. 

lago.    It's  true,  good  lieutenant. 

Cas.  For  mine  own  part,  —  no  offence  to  the  general,  nor 
any  man  of  quality,  —  I  hope  to  be  saved. 

lago.    And  so  do  I  too,  lieutenant. 

Cas.  Ay,  but,  by  your  leave,  not  before  me  ;  the  Heu- 
tenant  is  to  be  saved  before  the  ancient.  Let's  have  no, 
more  of  this  ;  let's  to  our  affairs.  —  Forgive  us  our  sins  !  — 
Gentlemen,  let's  look  to  our  business.  Do  not  think,  gentle- 
general  term  for  a  drinking-cup.  So  a  little  before,  "  caroused  potations 
pottle-deep " ;  which  means  emptied  the  cup,  or,  in  pot-house  language, 
pledged  her  to  the  bottom. 

5  In  the  old  pot-house  cant  or  slang,  to  do  a  man  justice,  or  to  do  him 
right,  was  to  keep  up  with  him  in  drinking. 

W  These  stanzas  are  copied,  with  a  few  slight  variations,  from  an  old 
ballad  entitled  "  Take  thy  old  Cloak  about  thee,"  which  is  reprinted  entire 
in  Percy's  Reliques. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  211 

men,  I  am  drunk :  this  is  my  ancient ;  this  is  my  right  hand, 
and  this  is  my  left.     I  am  not  drunk  now ;  I  can  stand  well 
^     ^enough,  and  speak  well  enough. 
^     '      A//.    Excellent  well. 

Cas.  Why,  very  well,  then ;  you  must  not  think,  then, 
that  I  am  drunk.  [/^aVA 

Afofi.    To  th'  platform,  masters  ;  come,  let's  set  the  watch. 

/ago.   You  see  this  fellow  that  is  gone  before  : 
)He  is  a  soldier  fit  to  stand  by  Caesar 
Y  And  give  direction  ;  '^  and  do  but  see  his  vice  : 
'Tis  to  his  virtue  a  just  etjuinox. 
The  one  as  long  as  th'  other  :   'tis  pity  of  him. 
I  fear  the  trust  Othello  puts  in  him, 
On  some  odd  time  of  his  infirmity, 
Will  shake  this  island. 

Afon.  But  is  he  often  thus  ? 

/ago.    'Tis  evermore  the  prologue  to  his  sleep  : 
He'll  watch  the  horologe  a  double  set,i^  /,: 
If  drink  rock  not  his  cradle. 

A/on.  It  were  well 

The  general  were  put  in  mind  of  it. 
Perhaps  he  sees  it  not ;  or  his  good  nature 
Prizes  the  virtue  that  appears  in  Cassio, 
And  looks  not  on  his  evils  :  is  not  this  true  ? 

Enter  RoDERiGO. 

/ago.    \_Asidc  to  Roderigo.]    How  now,  Roderigo  ! 
I  pray  you,  after  the  lieutenant ;  go.  S^Exit  Roderigo. 

11  How  differently  the  liar  speaks  of  Cassio's  soldiership  to  Montanoand 
to  Roderigo !  He  is  now  talking  where  he  is  liable  to  Ijc  called  to  account 
for  his  words. 

12  If  he  have  no  drink,  he'll  keep  awake  while  the  clock  strikes  two 
rounds,  or  four-and-twenty  hours.  The  word  horologe  is  familiar  to  most 
of  our  ancient  writers  :  Chaucer  often  uses  it. 


212  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

Mon.    And  'tis  great  pity  that  the  noble  Moor 
Should  hazard  such  a  place  as  his  own  second 
With  one  of  an  ingraft  infirmity  : 
It  were  an  honest  action  to  say 
So  to  the  Moor. 

lago.  Not  I,  for  this  fair  island  : 

I  do  love  Cassio  well ;  and  would  do  much 
To  cure  him  of  this  evil,  —  But,  hark  !  what  noise  ? 

[6>j  within,  Help  !  help  ! 

Re-enter  Cassio,  driving  in  Roderigo. 

Cas.    You  rogue  !  you  rascal  ! 

Mon.  What's  the  matter,  lieutenant? 

Cas.    A  knave  teach  me  my  duty  ! 
I'll  beat  the  knave  into  a  twiggen  bottle.'-^ 
Rod.   Beat  me  ! 
Cas.  Dost  thou  prate,  rogue  ? 

[^Striking  Roderigo. 
Mon.  Nay,  good  lieutenant ; 

\_Staying  him. 
I  pray  you,  sir,  hold  your  hand. 

Cas.  Let  me  go,  sir, 

Or  I'll  knock  you  o'er  the  mazzard. 

Mo;i.  Come,  come,  yoiCre  drunk. 

Cas.    Drunk  !  {^They  fight, 

lago.    [Aside  to  Roderigo.]    Away,  I  say ;    go  out,  and 
cry  a  mutiny  !  —  [Exit  Roderigo. 

yNay,  good  lieutenant,  —  alas,  gentlemen  !  — 
flelp,  ho  !  -  -  Lieutenant,  —  sir,  —  Montano,  —  sir  ;  — 
Help,  masters  !  —  Here's  a  goodly  watch  indeed  ! 

[Bell  rings. 
Who's  that  which  rings  the  bell?  —  Diablo,  ho  ! 

18  "  A  twiggen  bottle  "  is  a  bottle  enclosed  in  wicker-work  of  twigs. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  213 

The  town  will  rise  :  —  God's  will,  lieutenant,  hold  ! 
You  will  be  shamed  for  ever. 

Re-enter  Othello  and  Attendants. 

0th.-  What  is  the  matter  here? 

Mon.    Zounds,  I  bleed  still  !     I  am  hurt  to  th'  death. 

\_Faints. 

0th.    Hold,  for  your  lives  ! 

lago.   Hold,  ho  !    Lieutenant,  —  sir,  —  Montano,  —  gentle- 
men ! 
Have  you  forgot  all  sense  of  place  and  duty?     Hold  ! 
The  general  speaks  to  you  ;  hold,  hold,  for  shame  ! 

0th.    Why,  how  now,  ho  !  from  whence  ariseth  this  ? 
Are  we  turn'd  Turks,  and  to  ourselves  do  that 
Which  Heaven  hath  forbid  the  Ottomites  ? 
For  Christian  shame,  put  by  this  barbarous  brawl  ! 
He  that  stirs  next  to  carve  for  his  own  rage 
Holds  his  soul  light ;  he  dies  upon  his  motion.  — 
Silence  that  dreadful  bell  !  it  frights  the  isle 
h    From  her  propriety.  —  What  is  the  matter,  masters? — - 
■y      Honest  lago,  that  look'st  dead  with  grieving,  ■' 
J        Speak,  who  began  this  ?  on  thy  love,  I  charge  thee. 

lago.    I  do  not  know  :  friends  all  but  now,  even  now, 
In  quarter,'''  and  in  terms  like  bride  and  groom 
Devesting  them  for  bed  ;  and  then,  but  now  — 
As  if  some  planet  had  unwitted  men  — 
Swords  out,  and  tilting  one  at  other's  breast, 
In  opposition  bloody.     I  cannot  speak  (l/^K 

Any  beginning  to  this  peevish  '^  odds  ; 
And  would  in  action  glorious  I  had  lost 

I'' "  In  quarter"  means,  apparently,  on  (/leir  station;  the  place  of  duty 
assigned  them. 

15  Peevish  here  ys,  foolish  or  silly  ;  a  common  use  of  the  word  in  Shake- 
speare's time. 


214  OTHELLO,  a 

Those  legs  that  brought  me  to  a  part  of  it  ! 

0//i.    How  comes  it,  Michael,  you  are  thus  forgot  P^*' 

Cas.    I  pray  you,  pardon  me  ;  I  cannot  speak. 

Ot/i.    Worthy  Montano,  you  were  wont  be  civil ; 
The  gravity  and  stiHness  of  your  youth 
The  world  hath  noted,  and  your  name  is  great 
In  mouths  of  wisest  censure  :  ^''  what's  the  matter 
That  you  unlace  your  reputation  thus, 
And  sj2encl  your  ricli  opinion  '*^  for  the  name 
Of  a  night-brawler?  give  me  answer  to  it.  h^-*-^ 

Mon.    Worthy  Othello,  I  am  hurt  to  danger  : 
Your  officer,  lago,  can  inform  you  — 

While  I  spare  speech,  which  something  now  offends  me  — 
Of  all  that  I  do  know  :  nor  know  I  aught 
By  me  that's  said  or  done  amiss  this  night ; 
Unless  self-charity  be  sometimes  a  vice, 
And  to  defend  ourselves  it  be  a  sin  \< 

y 

My  blood  begins  my  safer  guides  to  rule  ; 
And  passion,  having  my  best  judgment  collied,^^  \ 

Assays  to  lead  the  way  :   if  I  once  stir,  V  J 

Or  do  but  lift  this  arm,  the  best  of  you  \^  " 

Shall  sink  in  my  rebuke.     Give  me  to  know  ^'-^ 

How  this  foul  rout  began,  who  set  it  on  ; 
And  he  that  is  approved  in  ^°  this  offence. 
Though  he  had  twinn'd  with  me,  both  at  a  birth, 

16  That  you  have  thus  forgot  yourself. 

1'^  Censure  is  judgment ;  as  the  word  was  constantly  used. 

18  Opinion  for  reputation  or  character  occurs  in  other  places.  —  Spend  in 
the  sense  of  waste,  spoil,  or  throw  away.  —  To  unlace  is  to  jingird,  to  lay 
bare,  to  expose. 

19  CoUicd  is  blackened,  as  with  smut  or  coal,  and  figuratively  means  here 
obscured,  darkened. 

20  Approved  in  means  proved  to  be  in. 


When  violence  assails  us. 

0th.  Now,  by  Heaven,  v  , 


bt- 


THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE,  215 


Shall  lose  me.     What  !  in  a  town  with  war  ^   <> 


Yet  wild,  the  people's  hearts  brimful  of  fear,  ^, 

To  manage  private  and  domestic  quarrel,  L  \ 

In  night,  and  on  the  court  of  guard  and  safety  !      J^V' 
'Tis  monstrous.  —  lago,  who  began't? 

Jlfon.    If,  partially  affined,  or  leagued  in  offxe,'^i 
Thou  dost  deliver  more  or  less  than  truth, 
Thou  art  no  soldier. 

/ago.  Touch  me  not  so  near  : 

I  had  rather  have  this  tongue  cut  from  my  mouth 
Than  it  should  do  offence  to  Michael  Cassio ; 
Yet,  I  persuade  myself,  to  speak  the  truth 
Shall  nothing  wrong  him.  — Thus  it  is,  general : 
Montano  and  myself  being  in  speech, 
There  comes  a  fellow  crying  out  for  help ; 
And  Cassio  following  with  determined  sword 
To  execute  upon  him.~~     Sir,  this  gentleman 
Steps  in  to  Cassio,  and  entreats  his  pause  : 
Myself  the  crying  fellow  did  pursue, 
Lest  by  his  clamour  —  as  it  so  fell  out  — 
The  town  might  fall  in  fright :  he,  swift  of  foot. 
Outran  my  purpose  ;  and  I  return'd  the  rather 
For  that  I  heard  the  clink  and  fall  of  swords, 
And  Cassio  high  in  oath ;  which  till  to-night 
I  ne'er  might  say  before.     When  I  came  back,  — 
For  this  was  brief,  —  I  found  them  close  together, 
At  blow  and  thrust ;  even  as  again  they  were 
When  you  yourself  did  ])art  them. 
More  of  tliis  matter  cannot  I  report  : 
But  men  are  men  ;  the  best  sometimes  forget. 
Though  Cassio  did  some  little  wrong  to  him,  — 

21  lf_  rendered  partial,  or   drawn   into  partiality,  by  official  fellowship, 
affinity,  or  sympathy. 

-•^  The  construction  is,  "  with  sword,  determined  to  execute  upon  him." 


2l6  OTHELLO,  act  ii 

As  men  in  rage  strike  those  that  wish  them  best,  — 
Yet,  surely,  Cassio,  I  beUeve,  received 
From  him  that  fled  some  strange  indignity, 
Which  patience  could  not  pass. 

Otli.  I  know,  lago, 

Thy  honesty  and  love  doth  mince  this  matter, 
Making  it  light  to  Cassio.  —  Cassio,  I  love  thee  ; 
But  never  more  be  officer  of  mine.  — 

Re-enter  Desdemona,  attended. 

Look,  if  my  gentle  love  be  not  raised  up  !  — 
I'll  make  thee  an  example. 

Des.  What's  the  matter? 

0th.    All's  well  now,  sweeting  ;  come  away  to  bed.  — 
Sir,  for  your  hurts,  myself  will  be  your  surgeon.  — 

[  To  MoNTANO,  ivlio  is  led  off. 
lago,  look  with  care  about  the  town, 
And  silence  those  whom  this  vile  brawl  distracted.  — 
Come,  Desdemona  :   'tis  the  soldiers'  life 
To  have  their  balmy  slumbers  waked  with  strife. 

\_Exeiint  all  but  Iago  and  Cassio. 

lago.    What,  are  you  hurt,  lieutenant? 

Cas.    Ay,  past  all  surgery. 

Iago.    Marry,  Heaven  forbid  ! 

Cas.  Reputation,  reputation,  reputation  !  O,  I  have  lost 
my  reputation  !  I  have  lost  the  immortal  part  of  myself,  and 
what  remains  is  bestial.  —  My  reputation,  Iago,  my  reputa- 
tion ! 

Iago.  As  I  am  an  honest  man,  I  thought  you  had  received 
some  bodily  wound  ;  there  is  more  offence  in  that  than  in 
reputation.  Reputation  is  an  idle  and  most  false  imposition  ; 
oft  got  without  merit,  and  lost  without  deserving :  you  have 
lost  no  reputation  at  all,  unless  you  repute  yourself  such 
a  loser.     What,  man  !  there  are  ways  to  recover  the  general 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.         ,  '  '  21/ 

again  :  you  are  but  now  cast  in  his  mood,-^  a  punishment 
more  in  pohcy  than  in  maHce  ;  even  so  as  one  would  beat 
his  offenceless  dog  to  affright  an  imperious  lion  :  sue  to  him 
again,  and  he's  yours. 

Cas.  I  will  rather  sue  to  be  despised  than  to  deceive  so 
good  a  commander  with  so  slight,  so  drunken,  and  so  indis- 
creet an  officer.  Drunk,  and  speak  parrot?  and  squabble, 
swagger,  swear?  and  discourse  fustian  with  one's  own  shad- 
ow?—  O  thou  invisible  spirit  of  wine,  if  thou  hast  no  name 
to  be  known  by,  let  us  call  thee  devil ! 

lago.  What  was  he  that  you  follow'd  with  your  sword? 
What  had  he  done  to  you  ? 

Cas.    I  know  not. 

lago.    Is't  possible  ? 

Cas.  I  remember  a  mass  of  things,  but  nothing  distinctly  ; 
a  quarrel,  but  nothing  wherefore.  —  O  God,  that  men  should 
put  an  enemy  in  their  mouths  to  steal  away  their  brains  ! 
that  we  should,  with  joy,  pleasance,  revel,  and  applause, 
transform  ourselves  into  beasts  ! 

lago.  Why,  but  you  are  now  well  enough  :  how  came  you 
thus  recovered  ? 

Cas.  It  hath  pleased  the  devil  drunkenness  to  give  place 
to  the  devil  wrath  :  one  unperfectness  shows  me  another,  to 
make  me  frankly  despise  myself. 

lago.  Come,  you  are  too  severe  a  moraler.  As  the  time, 
the  place,  and  the  condition  of  this  country  stands,  I  could 
heartily  wish  this  had  not  befallen  ;  but,  since  it  is  as  it  is, 
mend  it  for  your  own  good. 

Cas.  I  will  ask  him  for  my  place  again  ;  he  shall  tell  me 
I  am  a  drunkard  !  Had  I  as  many  mouths  as  Hydra,  such 
an  answer  would  stop  them  all.  To  be  now  a  sensible  man, 
by-and-by  a  fool,  and  presently  a  beast  !  O  strange  !  ]<>ery 
inordinate  cup  is  unbless'd,  and  the  ingredient  is  a  devil. 

23  Thrown  uff,  or  dismissed  in  a  flash  or  fit  of  anger. 


2l8  OTHELI.O,  ACT  II. 

lago.  Come,  come,  good  wine  is  a  good  familiar  creature, 
if  it  be  well  used  :  exclaim  no  more  against  it.  And,  good 
lieutenant,  I  think  you  think  I  love  you. 

Cas.    I  have  well  approved  it,  sir.  —  I  drunk  ! 

lago.  You  or  any  man  living  may  be  drunk  at  some  time, 
man.  I'll  tell  you  what  you  shall  do.  Our  general's  wife 
is  now  the  general :  I  may  say  so  in  this  respect,  for  that 
he  hath  devoted  and  given  up  himself  to  the  contemplation, 
mark,  and  denotement  of  her  parts  and  graces.  Confess 
yourself  freely  to  her ;  importune  her  help  to  put  you  in 
your  place  again  :  she  is  of  so  free,  so  kind,  so  apt,  so  blessed 
a  disposition,  she  holds  it  a  vice  in  her  goodness  not  to  do 
more  than  she  is  requested.  This  broken  joint  between  you 
and  her  husband  entreat  her  to  splinter ;  and,  my  fortunes 
against  any  lay  worth  naming,  ,this  crack  of  your  love  shall 
grow  stronger  ^^  than  it  was  before. 

Cas.    You  advise  me  well. 

lago.  I  protest,  in  the  sincerity  of  love  and  honest  kind- 
ness. 

Cas.  I  think  it  freely ;  ^^  and  betimes  in  the  morning  I 
will  beseech  the  virtuous  Desdemona  to  undertake  for  me.  I 
am  desperate  of  my  fortunes  if  they  check  me  here. 

lago.  You  are  in  the  right.  Good  night,  lieutenant ;  I 
must  to  the  watch. 

Cas.    Good  night,  honest  lago.  \_Exit 

lago.    And  what's  he,  then,  that  says  I  play  the  villain? 
When  this  advice  is  free  I  give  and  honest, 
Probal^^  to  thinking,  and,  indeed,  the  course 
To  win  the  Moor  again  ?     For  'tis  most  easy 

^-i  A  piece  of  verbal  disorder,  but  clear  enough  in  the  meaning :  "  your 
love  shall  grow  stronger  for  this  crack." 

25  I  believe  it  wiUingly  ;  without  any  protestation  on  your  part. 

"^^  Probal'vi  probable  :  perhaps  a  word  of  the  Poet's  own  coining,  used 
for  metrical  convenience. 


y- 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.        ^.    \,  219 

Th'  inclining^'''  Desdemona  to  subdue         |^^ ' 

In  any  honest  suit :   she's  framed  as  fruitful  ^8 

As  the  free  elements.     And  then  for  her 

To  win  the  Moor, —were 't  to  renounce  his  baptism, 

All  seals  and  symbols  of  redeemed  sin,  — 

His  soul  is  so  enfetter'd  to  her  love, 
,   That  she  may  make,  unmake,  do  what  she  list, 
-'"     Even  as  her  appetite  shall  play  the  god 
/        With  his  weak  function.     How  am  I,  then,  a  villain 

To  counsel  Cassio  to  this  parallel  course 
'   Directly  to  his  good  ?  ^^     Divinity  of  Hell  ! 

When  devils  will  the  blackest  sins  put  on, 

They  do  suggest -^^  at  first  with  heavenly  shows, 

As  I  do  now  :  for  whiles  this  honest  fool 

Plies  Desdemona  to  repair  his  fortunes, 
l,VAnd  she  for  him  pleads  strongly  to  the  Moor, 
fj'^     I'll  pour  this  pestilence  into  his  ear,  — 

That  she  repeals'^'  him  for  her  body's  lust ; 

And,  by  how  much  she  strives  to  do  him  good, 

Slie  shall  undo  her  credit  with  the  Moor. 

So  will  I  turn  her  virtue  into  pitch  ; 

i^nd  out  of  her  own  goodness  make  the  net 

That  shall  enmesh  them  all.  — 

Re-enter  RODERIGO. 

How  now,  Roderigo  ! 

2T  Inclining  here  signifies  compliant,  or  yielding. 

28  Corresponding  to  bcnigna.  Liberal,  bountiful  as  the  elements,  out  of 
which  all  things  are  produced. 

'^"^  The  order  is,  "  this  course  directly  parallel  to  his  good."  Parallel  to  is 
coinciding  with,  and  good  is  what  he  thinks  good  ;  his  wish. 

3"  "  When  devils  will  instigate  to  their  blackest  sins,  they  tempt"  &c. 
This  use  of /«/ o«  has  occurred  before.  See  page  199,  note  14.  —  Suggest 
and  its  cognates  in  the  sense  of  tempt  occurs  frequently.  See  vol.  x.  page 
208,  note  10. 

81  Repeal  in  the  sense  oi  recall  or  restore.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  62,  note  11. 


220  OTHELLO,  act  ii. 

Rod.  I  do  follow  here  in  the  chase,  not  like  a  hound  that 
hunts,  but  one  that  fills  up  the  cry.32  My  money  is  almost 
spent :  I  have  been  to-night  exceedingly  well  cudgell'd  ;  and 
I  think  the  issue  will  be,  I  shall  have  so  much  experience  for 
my  pains;  and  so,  with  no  money  at  all,  and  a  little  more  wit, 
return  again  to  Venice. 

lago.    How  poor  are  they  that  have  not  patience  !  ^' 

What  wound  did  ever  heal  but  by  degrees  ?  .  '' 

Thou  know'st  we  work  by  wit,  and  not  by  witchcraft ; 
And  wit  depends  on  dilatory  time.  ,    -  ■  ' 

Does't  not  go  well?     Cassio  hath  beaten  thee,  \1 '       ) 

And  thou,  by  that  small  hurt,  hast  cashier'd  Cassio.  '       ' 

Though  other  things  grow  fair  against  the  Sun, 
Yet  fruits  that  blossom  first  will  first  be  ripe  :  ^^  -^  j\     ^ 

Content  thyself  awhile.     By  th'  Mass,  'tis  morning;       ^      \j~ ,     , 
Pleasure  and  action  make  the  hours  seem  short.  \p^    Jc- 

Retire  thee  ;  go  where  thou  art  billeted.-^'*  ,_^ (.i""'" 

Away,  I  say  ;  thou  shalt  know  more  hereafter  : 

Nay,  get  thee  gone.    S^Exit  Roderigo.].  —  Two  things  are 

to  be  done  : 
My  wife  must  move  for  Cassio  to  her  mistress  ; 
I'll  set  her  on  : 

Myself  the  while  to  draw  the  Moor  apart. 
And  bring  him  jump  "^^  when  he  may  Cassio  find 

32  Cry  iox  pack :  so  used  in  the  language  of  the  chase.  See  vol.  xiv. 
page  236,  note  42. 

33  This  is  rather  obscure ;  but  the  meaning  seems  to  be, "  Though,  in  the 
sunshine  of  good  luck,  the  other  parts  of  our  scheme  are  promising  well, 
yet  we  must  expect  that  the  part  which  first  meets  with  opportunity,  or  time 
of  blossom,  will  soonest  come  to  harvest,  or  catch  success."  lago  wants  to 
possess  Roderigo's  mind  with  the  triumph  that  has  crowned  their  first  step, 
that  from  thence  he  may  take  heart  and  hope  for  the  rest  of  the  course. 

^^  Retire  thee  is  withdraw  thyself.  "Where  thou  art  billeted"  was  the 
camp  phrase  for  "where  your  lodging  is  assigned."  From  the  tickets  or 
billets  that  designated  the  quarters,  and  authorized  the  holders  to  claim  them. 

35  yump  for  exactly  ox  just.  Repeatedly  so.   See  vol.  xiv.  page  147,  note  14. 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  221 

Soliciting  his  wife  :  ay,  that's  the  way  ; 

Dull  not  device  by  coldness  and  delay.  \_Extf. 


ACT    III. 

Scene  I. —  Cyprus.     Before  the  Castle. 

Enter  Cassio  and  some  Musicians. 

Cas.    Masters,  play  here  ;  I  will  content  your  pains  ; 

Something  that's  brief;  and  bid  Good  morrotv,  general} 

[Music. 
Efiter  the  Clown. 

Clo.  Why,  masters,  have  your  instruments  been  in  Naples, 
that  they  speak  i'  the  nose^thus^?'i_   .< 

/  Mils.    How,  sir,  how  ! 

Clo.    Are  these,  I  pray  you,  wind-instruments? 

I  Mus.    Ay,  marry,  are  they,  sir. 

Clo.    O,  thereby  hangs  a  tail. 

I  Mus.    Whereby  hangs  a  tale,  sir? 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  by  many  a  wind-instrument  that  I  know. 
But,  masters,  here's  money  for  you  ;  and  the  general  so  likes 
your  music,  that  he  desires  you,  of  all  loves,-'  to  make  no 
more  noise  with  it.  i^.  i  ^  <.  i 

/  Mus.    Well,  sir,  we  will  not.  0 

Clo.    If  you  have  any  music  that  may  not  be  heard,  to't 

1  It  was  usual  for  fj  lends  to  serenade  a  new-married  couple  on  the  morn- 
ing after  the  celebration  of  the  marriage,  or  to  greet  them  with  a  viornhtg 
song  to  bid  them  good  morrow. 

2  Alluding  to  a  certain  disease  which  is  said  to  have  appeared  first  at 
Naples,  and  which  was  noted  for  the  mischief  it  played  with  the  nose. 

3  An  old  phrase  meaning  about  the  same  as  for  love's  sake,  or  by  all 
means.     See  vol.  vi.  page  43,  note  10. 


222  OTHELLO,  ACT  ill. 

again ;  but,  as  they  say,  to  hear  music  the  general  does  not 
greatly  care. 

I  Mas.    We  have  none  such,  sir. 

Clo.  Then  put  up  your  pipes  in  your  bag,  for  I'll  away  : 
go  ;  vanish  into  air  ;  away  !  ^Exeunt  Musicians. 

Cas.    Dost  thou  hear,  my  honest  friend? 

Clo.    No,  I  hear  not  your  honest  friend  ;  I  hear  you. 

Cas.  Pr'ythee,  keep  up  thy  quillets.  There's  a  poor  piece 
of  gold  for  thee  :  if  the  gentlewoman  that  attends  the  gene- 
ral's wife  be  stirring,  tell  her  there's  one  Cassio  entreats  her 
a  little  favour  of  speech  :  wilt  thou  do  this  ? 

Clo.  She  is  stirring,  sir :  if  she  will  stir  hither,  I  shall 
seem  to  notify  unto  her. 

Cas.    Do,  good  my  friend.  —  \^Exit  Clown. 

Enter  Iago. 

In  happy  time,  Iago. 

Iago.    You  have  not  been  a-bed,  then? 

Cas.    Why,  no  ;   the  day  had  broke 
Before  we  parted.     I've  made  bold,  Iago, 
To  send  in  to  your  wife  :   my  suit  to  her 
Is,  that  she  will  to  virtuous  Desdeniona 
Procure  me  some  access. 

Iago.  I'll  send  her  to  you  presently; 

And  I'll  devise  a  mean  to  draw  the  Moor 
Out  of  the  way,  that  your  converse  and  business 
May  be  more  free. 

Cas.    I  humbly  thank  you  for't.     {^Exit  Iago.]  —  I  never 
knew 
A  Florentine  more  kind  and  honest."* 

4  In  consequence  of  this  line  a  doubt  has  been  entertained  concerning 
the  country  of  Iago.  Cassio  was  undoubtedly  a  Florentine,  as  appears  by 
the  first  scene  of  the  play,  where  he  is  expressly  called  one.  That  Iago  was 
a  Venetian  is  proved  by  a  speech  in  the  third  scene  of  this  Act,  and  by  what 


/. 


y 


SCENE  II.        '^  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  223 

I  Y'  \y  Enter  Emilia. 

Einil.    Good  morrow,  good  lieutenant :   I  am  sorry 
For  your  displeasure  ;  ^  but  all  will  sure  be  well. 
The  general  and  his  wife  are  talking  of  it ; 
And  she  speaks  for  you  stoutly  :   the  ]\Ioor  replies, 
That  he  you  hurt  is  of  great  fame  in  Cyprus 
And  great  affinity,  and  that  in  wholesome  wisdom 
He  might  not  but  refuse  you  ;  but  he  protests  he  loves  you, 
And  needs  no  other  suitor  but  his  likings 
To  take  the  safest  occasion  by  the  front 
To  bring  you  in  again. 

Cas.  Yet,  I  beseech  you,  — 

If  you  think  fit,  or  that  it  may  be  done,  — 
Give  me  advantage  of  some  brief  discourse 
With  Desdemona  alone. 

Emil.  Pray  you,  come  in  : 

I  will  bestow  you  where  you  shall  have  time 
To  speak  your  bosom  freely. 

Cas.  I'm  much  bound  to  you.     \_Exeunt. 

Scene  II.  —  A  Room  in  tlie  Castle. 

Enter  Othello,  Iago,  rt;;c/(rentlemen. 

0th.    These  letters  give,  Iago,  to  the  pilot ; 
And,  by  him,  do  my  duties  to  the  Senate  : 
That  done,  I  will  be  walking  on  the  works  ,  ^    p''^  ^"-^-"^  ' 

he  says  in  the  fiftli  Act,  after  having  stabbed  Roderigo.  All  that  Cassio 
means  to  say  in  the  present  passage  is,  "  i  never  experienced  more  honesty 
and  kindness  even  in  one  of  my  own  countrymen." 

^"Your  displeasure"  here  means  the  displeasure  you  have  incurred 
from  Othello.  An  instance  of  the  objective  genitive  in  cases  where  present 
usage  admits  only  the  subjective  genitive;  that  is,  Othello  is  here  regarded 
as  the  subject  of  the  displeasure,  Cassio  as  the  object  of  it.  Shakespeare 
has  many  similar  expressions.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  283,  note  21. 


224  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

Repair  there  to  me. 

lago.  Well,  my  good  lord,  I'll  do't. 

0th.    This  fortification,  gentlemen,  shall  we  see't? 

Gent.    We'll  wait  upon  your  lordship.  [^Exetmt. 

Scene  III.  —  The  Garden  of  the  Castle. 
Enter  Desdemona,  Cassio,  and  Emilia. 

Des.    Be  thou  assured,  good  Cassio,  I  will  do 
All  my  abilities  in  thy  behalf. 

Etnil.  Good  madam,  do  :  I  warrant  it  grieves  my  husband, 
As  if  the  case  were  his. 

Des.    O,  that's  an  honest  fellow.  —  Do  not  doubt,  Cassio, 
But  I  will  have  my  lord  and  you  again 
As  friendly  as  you  were. 

Cas.  Bounteous  madam, 

Whatever  shall  become  of  Michael  Cassio, 
He's  never  any  thing  l)ut  your  true  servant. 

Des     O  sir,  I  thank  you.     You  do  love  my  lord  : 
You've  known  liim  long ;  and  be  you  well  assured 
He  shall  in  strangeness  stand  no  further  off 
Than  in  a  politic  distance. 

Cas.  Ay,  but,  lady, 

That  policy  may  either  last  so  long. 
Or  feed  upon  such  nice  and  waterish  diet, 
Or  breed  itself  so  out  of  circumstance, 
That,  I  being  absent,  and  my  place  supplied, 
My  general  will  forget  my  love  and  service.' 

Des.    Do  not  doubt  that ;~  before  Emilia  here 

'  He  may  either  of  himself  thinl.:  it  politic  to  keep  me  out  of  office  so 
long,  or  he  may  be  satisfied  with  such  slight  reasons,  or  so  many  accidents 
may  make  him  think  my  readmission  at  that  time  improper,  that  I  may  be 
quite  forgotten.  —  JOHNSON. 

2  Do  not  fear  that.     Doubt  was  often  used  in  the  sense  oi  fear. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  225 

I  give  thee  warrant  of  thy  place.    Assure  thee, 

If  I  do  vow  a  friendship,  I'll  perform  it 

To  the  last  article  :  my  lord  shall  never  rest ; 

I'll  watch  him  tame,^  and  talk  him  out  of  patience  ; 

His  bed  shall  seem  a  school,  his  board  a  shrift ; 

I'll  intermingle  ever)'*thing  he  does 

With  Cassio's  suit  :  therefore  be  merry,  Cassio ; 

For  thy  solicitor  shall  rather  die 

Than  give  thy  cause  away. 

Emil.    Madam,  here  comes  my  lord. 

Cas.    Madam,  I'll  take  my  leave. 

Des.    Why,  stay,  and  hear  me  speak. 

Cas.    Madam,  not  now  :  I'm  very  ill  at  ease. 
Unfit  for  mine  own  purposes. 

Des.    Well,  do  your  discretion.  [ii.vvV  Cassio. 

Enter  Othello  and  Iago. 

lago.    Ha  !  I  like  not  that. 

0th.  What  dost  thou  say? 

Iago.    Nothing,  my  lord  ;  or  if —  I  know  not  what. 

Oth.    Was  not  that  Cassio  parted  from  my  wife  ? 

Iago.    Cassio,  my  lord  !     No,  sure,  I  cannot  think  it. 
That  he  would  steal  away  so  guilty-like. 
Seeing  you  coming. 

Oth.  I  do  believe  'twas  he. 

Des.    How  now,  my  lord  ! 
I  have  been  talking  with  a  suitor  here, 
A  man  that  languishes  in  your  displeasure. 

Oth.    Who  is't  you  mean  ? 

Des.    Why,  your  lieutenant,  Cassio.     Good  my  lord. 
If  I  have  any  grace  or  jjower  to  move  you. 
His  present  reconciliation  take  ; 

8  Hawks  and  other  birds  are  tamed  by  keeping  them  from  sleep.     To 
this  Shakespeare  alludes. 


226  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

For  if  he  be  not  one  that  truly  loves  you,  ■ 
That  errs  in  ignorance,  and  not  in  cunniiig,"^ 
I  have  no  judgment  in  an  honest  face. 
I  pr'ythee,  call  him  back. 

Of/i.  Went  he  hence  now? 

Des.    Ay,  sooth  ;  so  humbled, 
That  he  hath  left  part  of  his  grief  with  me. 
To  suffer  with  him.     Good  love,  call  him. back. 

O^/i.    Not  now,  sweet  Desdemon  ;  some  other  time. 

Bes.    But  shall't  be  shortly  ? 

Of/i.  The  sooner,  sweet,  for  you. 

Des.    Shall't  be  to-night  at  supper? 

Of/i.  No,  not  to-night. 

Des.    To-morrow  dinner,  then? 

0//i.  I  shall  not  dine  at  home  ; 

I  meet  the  captains  at  the  citadel. 

Des.    Why,  then  to-morrow  night ;  or  Tuesday  morn  ; 
On  Tuesday  noon,  or  night ;  on  Wednesday  morn  : 
I  pr'ythee,  name  the  time  ;  but  let  it  not 
Exceed  three  days  :   in  faith,  he's  penitent ; 
And  yet  his  trespass,  in  our  common  reason,  — 
Save  that,  they  say,  the  wars  must  make  examples 
-'  \   Out  of  the  best,  —  is  not  almost  a  fault 

T'  incur  a  private  check.     When  shall  he  come  ? 

Tell  me,  Othello  :  I  wonder  in  my  soul. 

What  you  would  ask  me,  that  I  should  deny, 

Or  stand  so  mammering  on.^     What  !  Michael  Cassio, 

That  came  a-wooing  with  you  ;  and  so  many  a  time, 

When  I  have  spoke  of  you  dispraisingly, 

Hath  ta'en  your  part ;  to  have  so  much  to-do  "^    ,M 

4  Cunning  here  means  knojoledge,  an  old  sense  of  the  word. 

5  So  hesitating,  in  such  doubtful  suspense.     So  in  Lyly's  Euphues,  1580: 
"  Neither  stand  in  a  mamering  whether  it  be  best  to  depart  or  not." 

6  Shakespeare  several  times  has  to-do  in  the  exact  sense  of  ado. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  22/ 

To  bring  him  in  !     Trust  me,  I  could  do  much,  — 

0th.    Pr'ythee,  no  more  :  let  him  come  when  he  will ; 
I  will  deny  thee  nothing. 

Des.  Why,  this  is  not  a  boon ; 

'Tis  as  I  should  entreat  you  wear  your  gloves, 
Or  feed  on  nourishing  dishes,  or  keep  you  warm, 
Or  sue  to  you  to  do  peculiar  profit 
To  your  own  person  :  nay,  when  I  have  a  suit 
Wherein  I  mean  to  touch  your  love  indeed, 
It  shall  be  fi.ill  of  poise  and  difficult  weight, 
And  fearful  to  be  granted. 

0th.  I  will  deny  thee  nothing; 

'vWhereon,  I  do  beseech  thee,  grant  me  this, 
.To  leave  me  but  a  little  to  myself. 
:     Des.    Shall  I  deny  you  ?  no  :   farewell,  my  lord. 

0th.    Farewell,  my  Desdemona  :  I'll  come  to  thee  straight. 

Des.    Emilia,  come.  —  Be  as  your  fancies  teach  you  ; 
Whate'er  you  be,  I  am  obedient.  \^Exit,  with  Emilia. 

0th.    Excellent  wretch,"  perdition  catch  my  soul. 
But  I  do  love  thee  !  and,  when  I  love  thee  not, 
Chaos  is  come  again. ^ 

lago.    My  noble  lord,  — 

0th.  What  dost  thou  say,  lago? 

lago.    Did  Michael  Cassio,  when  you  woo'd  my  lady, 
Know  of  your  love  ? 

OtJi.    He  did,  from  first  to  last :  ^  why  dost  thou  ask? 

"'  Wretch,  as  here  used,  was  the  strongest  expression  of  endearment  in 
the  language.     Shakespeare  has  it  repeatedly  so. 

''  Tlie  meaning  is,  "  Ere  I  cease  to  love  thee,  the  world  itself  shall  be 
reduced  to  its  primitive  chaos."  —  But,  again,  in  its  exceptive  sense;  but 
that,  or,  "  if  I  do  not  love  thee."     See  vol.  xv.  page  104,  note  12. 

9  In  Act  i.  sc.  2,  when  lago,  speaking  of  the  Moor  to  Cassio,  says,  "  He's 
married,"  Cassio  asks,  "  To  whom  ?  "  Yet  here  he  seems  to  have  known 
all  about  it.  The  explanation  is,  that  Cassio  there  feigned  ignorance,  in 
order  to  keep  his  friend's  secret  till  it  should  be  publicly  known. 


228  OTHELLO,  ACT  ill. 

lago.    But  for  a  satisfaction  of  my  thought  ; 
No  further  harm. 

Oih.  Why  of  thy  thought,  lago? 

lago.    I  did  not  think  he  had  been  acquainted  with  her. 

Otli.    O,  yes  ;  and  went  between  us  very  oft. 

lago.    Indeed  ! 

0th.    Indeed  !  ay,  indeed  :   discern'st  thou  aught  in  that  ? 
Is  he  not  honest? 

lago.  Honest,  my  lord  ! 

0th.  Honest  !  ay,  honest. 

lago.    My  lord,  for  aught  I  know. 

0th.  What  dost  thou  think? 

lago.    Think,  my  lord  ! 

0th.    Think,  my  hird  1 —  By  Heaven,  he  echoes  me. 
As  if  there  were  some  monster  in  his  thought 
Too  hideous  to  be  shown.  — -  Thou  dost  mean  something. 
I  heard  thee  say  even  now,  thou  likedst  not  that. 
When  Cassio  left  my  wife  :   what  didst  not  like  ? 
And,  when  I  told  thee  he  was  of  my  counsel 
In  rny  whole  course  of  wooing,  thou  criedst  Indeed! 
And  didst  contract  and  purse  thy  brow  together, 
As  if  thou  then  hadst,  shut  up  in  thy  brain. 
Some  horrible  conceit  !     If  thou  dost  love  me. 
Show  me  thy  thought. 

lago.    My  lord,  you  know  I  love  you. 

0th.  I  think  thou  dost ; 

And,  for  I  know  thou'rt  full  of  love  and  honesty. 
And  weigh'st  thy  words  before  thou  givest  them  breath. 
Therefore  these  stops  of  thine  fright  me  the  more  : 
For  such  things  in  a  false  disloyal  knave 
Are  tricks  of  custom  ;  but  in  a  man  that's  just 
They're  close  delations,!"  working  from  the  heart, 

1"  "  Close  delations  "  arc  secret  accusings,  intimations,  or  informations. 
So  in  Jonson's  Volpone,  ii.  3  :  "  Yet,  if  I  do  it  not,  they  may  delate  my  slack- 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  229 

That  passion  cannot  rule. 

!<-^go.  For  Michael  Cassio, 

I  dare  be  sworn  ^  I  think  that  he  is  honest.' ^ 

0th.    I  think  so  too. 

Idgo.  Men  should  be  what  they  seem ; 

Or,  those  that  be  not,  would  they  might  seem  none  ! 

0th.    Certain,  men  should  be  what  they  seem. 

lago.    Why,  then  I  think  Cassio's  an  honest  man. 

Oth.    Nay,  yet  there's  more  in  this  : 
I  pr'ythee,  speak  to  me  as  to  thy  thinkings, 
As  thou  dost  ruminate  ;  and  give  thy  worst  of  thoughts 
The  worst  of  words. 

lago.  Good  my  lord,  pardon  me  : 

Though  I  am  bound  to  every  act  of  duty, 
I  am  not  bound  to  that  all  slaves  are  free  to. 
Utter  my  thoughts?     Why,  say  they're  vile  and  false,  — 
As  Where's  that  palace  whereinto  foul  things 
Sometimes  intrude  not  ?  who  has  a  breast  so  pure, 
But  some  uncleanly  apprehensions 
Keep  leets  and  law-days,  and  in  session  sit 
With  meditations  lawful?  '2 

ness  to  my  patron."  —  It  should  be  noted,  that  in  all  this  part  of  the  dialogue 
the  doubts  started  in  Othello  by  the  villain's  arlful  insinuations  have  refer- 
ence only  to  Cassio.  There  is  not  the  least  sign  that  the  Moor's  thoughts 
anywise  touch  his  wife;  and  lago  seems  perplexed  that  his  suspicions  have 
lighted  elsewhere  than  he  had  intended.  The  circumstance  is  very  material 
in  reference  to  Othello's  predispositions,  or  as  regards  the  origin  and  nature 
of  his  "jealousy." 

11  lago  is  supposed  to  pause  at  sworn,  and  correct  himself,  as  if  he  weie 
speaking  with  flie  most  scrupulous  candour. 

1-  Who  has  so  virtuous  a  breast  that  some  impure  conceptions  and  un- 
charitable surmises  will  not  sometimes  enter  into  it ;  hold  a  session  there, 
as  in  a  regular  court,  and  "bench  by  the. side"  of  authorized  and  lawful 
thoughts  ?  A  leet  is  also  called  a  law-day.  "  This  court,  in  whose  manor 
soever  kept,  was  accounted  the  king's  court,  and  commonly  held  every  half 
year":  it  was  a  meeting  of  ihc  hundred  "to  certify  the  king  of  the  good 
manners  and  government  of  the  inhabitants." 


^ 


230  OTHELLO,  ACT  III 

0th.  Thou  dost  conspire  against  tliy  friend,  lago, 
If  thou  but  think'st  him  wrong'd,  and  makest  his  ear 
A  stranger  to  thy  thoughts. 

lago.  I  do  beseech  you,  — 

Though  '^  I  perchance  am  vicious  in  my  guess, 

As,  I  confess,  it  is  my  nature's  plague 
-,  To  spy  into  abuses,^'*  and  oft  my  jealousy 

r  Shapes  faults  that  are  not,  —  that  your  wisdom  yet. 
From  one  that  so  imperfectly  conceits, '•'' 
Would  take  no  notice  ;  nor  build  yourself  a  trouble 
,  Out  of  his  scattering  and  unsure  observance. 

It  were  not  for  your  quiet  nor  your  good. 
Nor  for  my  manhood,  honesty,  or  wisdom. 
To  let  you  know  my  thoughts. 

Otli.  What  dost  thou  mean? 

lago.    Good  name  in  man  and  woman,  dear  my  lord, 
Is  the  immediate  jewel  of  their  souls  : 
Who  steals  my  purse  steals  trash  ;   'tis  something,  nothing ; 
'Twas  mine,  'tis  his,  and  has  been  slave  to  thousands ; 
But  he  that  filches  from  me  my  good  name 
Robs  me  of  that  which  not  enriches.him. 
And  makes  me  poor  indeed. 

Otli.    By  Heaven,  I'll  know  thy  thoughts  ! 
lago.    You  cannot,  if  my  heart  were  in  your  hand ; 
Nor  shall  not,  whilst  'tis  in  my  custody. 

13  Here  we  seem  to  have  an  instance  —  and  there  are  many  such  —  of 
though  used  in  a  causal  and  not  in  a  concessive  sense ;  that  is,  for  since  or 
inasmuch  as.     See  vol.  xv.  page  268,  note  44,  and  the  reference  there. 

]*  lago  here  feigns  self-distrust,  and  confesses  that  he  has  the  natural 
infirmity  or  plague  of  a  suspicious  and  prying  temper,  that  he  may  make 
Othello  trust  him  the  more  strongly.  So  men  often  prate  about,  and  even 
magnify,  their  own  faults,  in  order  to  cheat  otliers  into  a  pursuasion  of  their 
rectitude  and  candour. 

15  In  old  language,  to  conceit  is  to  understand,  to  judge  or  conceive. 
The  word,  both  verb  and  substantive,  is  always  used  by  Shakespeare  in 
that  sense,  or  one  closely  allied  to  that. 


i 

V^  '  SCENE  in.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  23  I 

O//1.    Ha! 

r     > 

f  0^       /ago.  O,  beware,  my  lord,  of  jealousy  ! 

\       It  is  the  green-eyed  monster  which  doth  make 
^       The  meat  it  feeds  on  :  ^^  that  cuckold  lives  in  bliss 

Who,  certain  of  his  fate,  loves  not  his  wronger ; 

But,  O,  what  damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er 

Who  dotes,  yet  doubts,  suspects,  yet  strongly  loves  ! 
O//1.    O  misery  ! 
/ago.    Poor  and  content  is  rich,  and  rich  enough ; 

But  riches  fineless  ^'''  is  as  poor  as  Winter 

To  him  that  ever  fears  he  shall  be  poor.  — 

Good  Heaven,  the  souls  of  all  my  tribe  defend 

From  jealousy  ! 

O//1.  Why,  why  is  this  ? 

Think'st  thou  I'd  make  a  life  of  jealousy, 

To  follow  still  the  changes  of  the  Moon 

With  fresh  suspicions  ?     No  ;  to  be  once  in  doubt 

Is  once  to  be  resolved  :  exchange  me  for  a  goat. 

When  I  shall  turn  the  business  of  my  soul 

To  such  exsufflicate  '^  and  blown  surmises, 

IS  Meaning  that  jealousy  is  a  self-generated  passion ;  that  its  causes  are 
subjective,  or  that  it  lives  on  what  it  imputes,  not  on  what  it  finds.  And 
so  Emilia  afterwards  describes  it :  "  'lis  a  monster  begot  upon  itself,  born  on 
itself."  lago  is,  in  his  way,  a  consummate  metaphysician,  and  answers  per- 
fectly to  Burke's  description :  "  Nothing  can  be  conceived  more  hard  than 
the  heart  of  a  thorough-bred  metaphysician.  It  comes  nearer  to  the  cold 
malignity  of  a  wicked  spirit  than  to  the  frailty  and  passion  of  a  man." 

^"  That  is,  endless,  unbounded.  Warburton  observes  that  this  is  finely 
expressed  —  Winter  producing  no  fruits. 

1*'  This  is  the  only  known  instance  of  exsuffllcate.  Phillips  interprets 
j;/^a^^'o«  "  a  puffing  up,  a  making  to  swell  with  blowing."  In  Plautus  we 
have,  "Sufflavit  nescio  quid  uxorc"  ;  which  Cooper  renders,  "  He  hath  lohls- 
pered  something  in  his  wifes  eare  whatsoever  it  be."  Richardson's  expla- 
nation is,  "Exsujlicate,  in  Shakespeare,  is  not  improbably  a  misprint  for 
exsuifflate,  that  is,  efflate  or  ejfflatcd,  puffed  out,  and,  consequently,  exagger- 
ated, extravagant ;  to  which  blown  is  added,  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  a 
second  epithet,  with  a  new  meaning,  as  of  giving  emphasis  to  the  first." 


232  OTHELLO,  ACT  III 

Matching  thy  inference.     'Tis  not  to  make  me  jealous 

To  say  my  wife  is  fair,  feeds  well,  loves  company, 

Is  free  of  speech,  sings,  plays,  and  dances  well ; 

Where  virtue  is,  these  are  more  virtuous  : 

Nor  from  mine  own  weak  merits  will  I  draw 

The  smallest  fear  or  doubt  of  her  revolt ; 

For  she  had  eyes,  and  chose  me.     No,  lago  ! 

I'll  see  before  I  doubt ;  when  I  doubt,  prove  ; 

And,  on  the  proof,  there  is  no  more  but  this. 

Away  at  once  with  love  or  jealousy  !  j- 

lago.    I'm  glad  of  it ;  for  now  I  shall  have  reason  ^- 

To  show  the  love  and  duty  that  I  bear  you 
With  franker  spirit :  therefore,  as  I'm  bound. 
Receive  it  from  me  :   I  speak  not  yet  of  proof. 
Look  to  your  wife  ;  observe  her  well  with  Cassio ; 
Wear  your  eye  thus,  not  jealous  nor  secure  :  19— 
I  would  not  have  your  free  and  noble  nature. 
Out  of  self-bounty,-*'  be  abused  ;  look  to't. 

I  know  our  country  disposition  well :  \ 

In  Venice  they  do  let  Heaven  see  the  pranks  ^ 

They  dare  not  show  their  husbands  ;  their  best  conscience       V 
Is  not  to  leave't  undone,  but  keep't  unknown.  %^' r 

0th.    Dost  thou  say  so  ? 

lago.    She  did  deceive  h( 
And,  when  she  seem'd  to  shake  and  fear  your  looks,  7 


lago.    She  did  deceive  her  fother,  marrying  you  ;  "^  rp"  \   ^     J- 
nd,  when  she  seem'd  to  shake  and  fear  your  looks,  7       \(7V) 
She  loved  them  most.-^  /     ^J 


0th.  And  so  she  did. 

Ias:o.  Why,  go  to,  then  ; 


19  Secure  in  the  Latin  sense ;   careless,  or  over-confident.     Often  so. 

20  Self-bounty  here  means  inherent  and  spontaneous  generosity. 

21  This  is  one  of  lago's  artfullest  strokes.  The  instinctive  shrinkings  and 
tremblings  of  Desdemona's  modest  virgin  love  are  ascribed  to  craft,  and 
made  to  appear  a  most  refined  and  elaborate  course  of  deception.  His 
deep  science  of  human  nature  enables  him  to  divine  hew  she  appeared. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  233 

She  that,  so  young,  could  give  out  such  a  seeming,  Le^    t  ■' 
To  seel  her  father's  eyes  up  close  as  oak,^^—  d^ 

He  thought  'twas  witchcraft,  —  But  I'm  much  to  blame ; 
I  humbly  do  beseech  you  of  your  pardon 
For  too  much  loving  you. 

0th.  I'm  bound  to  thee  for  ever. 

lago.    I  see  this  hath  a  little  dash'd  your  spirits. 

0th.    Not  a  jot,  not  a  jot. 

lago.  I'faith,  I  fear  it  has. 

I  hope  you  will  consider  what  is  .spoke 
Comes  from  my  love.     But  I  do  see  you're  moved  : 
I  am  to  pray  you  not  to  strain  my  speech  tj 

To  grosser  issues  nor  to  larger  reach  /i 

Than  to  suspicion.  ^' 

0th.    I  will  not.  y  0 

lago.  Should  you  do  so,  my  lord,     ■/ 

My  speech  should  fall  into  such  vile  success  --^ 
As  my  thoughts  aim  not  at.     Cassio's  my  worthy  friend  ;  — 
My  lord,  I  see  you're  moved. 

0th.  No,  not  much  moved  : 

I  do  not  think  but  Desdemona's  honest. 

lago.    Long  live  she  so  !  and  long  live  you  to  think  so  ! 

0th.    And  yet,  how  nature  erring  from  itself,  — 

lago.    Ay,  there's  the  point ;  as,  —  to  be  bold  with  you, — 
Not  to  affect  many  proposed  matches 
Of  her  own  clime,  complexion,  and  degree, 
Whereto  we  see  in  all  things  nature  tends  ;  — 
Foh  !  one  may  smell,  in  such,  a  will  most  rank, 
Im)u1  disproportion,  thouglits  unnatural. 

22  Oak  is  a  tough,  close-grained  wood.  So  that  close  as  oak  probably 
mz'xm  as  close  as  the  grain  of  oak. —  Seel  h^'i  been  explained  before.  See 
page  187,  note  35. 

-^  .Success  here  means  consequence  or  event.  So  in  Sidney's  Arcadia  : 
'  Straight  my  heart  misgave  me  some  evil  success  /"     Often  so. 


234  OTHELLO,  act  hi. 

But  pardon  me  :  I  do  not  in  position 
Distinctly  speak  of  her ;  though  I  may  fear 
Her  will,  recoiling  to  her  better  judgment, 
May  fall  to  match  you  with  her  country  forms, 
And  happily  ^'^  repent. 

O///.  Farewell,  farewell : 

If  more  tliou  dost  perceive,  let  me  know  more  ; 
Set  on  thy  wife  t'  observe  :  leave  me,  lago. 

/ago.    My  lord,  I  take  my  leave.  [^Going. 

0th.    Why  did  I  marry?  .  This  honest  creature  doubtless 
Sees  and  knows  more,  much  more,  than  he  unfolds. 

lago.    \_Re turning.']    My  lord,   I    would    I    might    entreat 
your  Honour 
To  scan  this  thing  no  further ;  leave  it  to  time  : 
Although  'tis  fit  that  Cassio  have  his  place,  — 
For,  sure,  he  fills  it  up  with  great  ability,  — 
Yet,  if  you  please  to  hold  him  off  awhile. 
You  shall  by  that  perceive  him  and  his  means  :  ^^ 
Note  if  your  lady  strain  his  entertainment  '-^^ 
With  any  strong  or  vehement  importunity ; 
Much  will  be  seen  in  that.     In  the  mean  time 
Let  me  be  thought  too  busy  in  my  fears,  — 
As  worthy  cause  I  have  to  fear  I  am,  — 
And  hold  her  free,  I  do  beseech  your  Honour. 

Ot/i.    Fear  not  my  government. 

lago.    I  once  more  take  my  leave.  \^Exit. 

0th.    This  fellow's  of  exceeding  honesty, 
And  knows  all  cjualities,  with  a  learned  spirit, 

2-i  Where  a  trisyllable  was  wanted,  the  poets  often  used  happily  for  haply, 
that  is, perhaps.  —  The  meaning  of  what  precedes  is,  "  Her  \\\\\,  falling  back 
upon  her  better  judgment,  may  go  to  cotnparing  you  with  the  forms  of  her 
countrymen." 

2^  You  shall  discover  whether  he  thinks  his  best  means,  his  most  powerful 
interest,  is  by  the  solicitation  of  your  lady. 

26  Press  his  readmission  to  pay  and  ofifice. 


J 


/■•■  ^ 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  -  235 

Of  human  dealings.-''     If  I  do  prove  her  haggard,^^ 
Though  that  her  jesses  were  my  dear  heart-strings, 
I'd  whistle  her  off,  and  let  her  down  the  wind. 
To  prey  at  fortune.-'-*     Haply,  for  I  am  black, 
And  have  not  those  soft  parts  of  conversation 
That  chainberers  ^^  have  ;  or,  for  I  am  declined 
Into  the  vale  of  years,  — yet  that's  not  much  ;  — 
She's  gone  ;  I  am  abused  ;  and  my  relief 
Must  be  to  loathe  her.     O  curse  of  marriage. 
That  we  can  call  these  delicate  creatures  ours, 
And  not  their  appetites  !     I  had  rather  be  a  toad, 
And  live  upon  the  vapour  of  a  dungeon, 
Than  keep  a  corner  in  the  thing  I  love 
For  other's  uses.     Yet  'tis  the  plague  of  great  ones  ; 
Prerogatived  are  they  less  than  the  base  ; 
'Tis  destiny  unshunnable,  like  death  : 
Even  then  this  forked  plague  is  fated  to  us 

2'  So  the  passage  is  commonly  printed,  the  explanation  being,  "  He  knows 
with  a  learned  spirit  ail  qualities  of  human  dealings."  But  I  suspect  the 
true  sense  to  be,  "  He  knows  all  qualities  with  a  spirit  learned  /«  7-cspect  of 
human  dealings."     So  of'\'s>  often  used.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  217,  note  2. 

28  Haggard  is  tvild,  un?-eclaimed ;  commonly  used  of  a  hawk.  So  in  Sir 
Thomas  Browne's  Religio  Medici :  "Thus  I  teach  my  haggard  and  unre- 
claimed reason  to  stoop  to  the  lure  of  fliith."  A  passage  in  The  White  Devil, 
or  Vittoria  Corotnbona,  1612,  shows  that  the  term  was  sometimes  applied  to 
a  wanton  :  "  Is  this  your  perch,  you  haggard?  fly  to  the  stews." 

29  yesses  are  short  straps  of  leather  tied  about  the  foot  of  a  hawk,  by  which 
she  is  held  on  the  fist.  "  The  falconers  always  let  fly  the  hawk  against  the 
wind;  if  she  flys  with  the  wind  behind  her,  she  seldom  returns.  If  there- 
fore a  hawk  was  for  any  reason  to  be  dismissed,  she  was  let  down  the  wind, 
and  from  that  time  shifted  for  herself  and  preyed  at  fortune."  So  in  Dry- 
den's  Annus  Mirabilis  : 

Have  you  not  seen,  when,  whistled  horn  the  fist, 
Some  falcon  stoops  at  what  her  eye  design'd, 
And,  with  her  eagerness  the  quarry  miss'd, 
Straight  flics  at  check,  and  clips  it  do7vn  the  wind. 

^  That  is,  men  of  intrigue.  Chaniheriug  and  wantonness  are  mentioned 
together  by  Saint  Paul,  Romans,  xiii.  13. 


236  OTHELLO,  ACT  IIL 

When  we  do  quicken. ■'i  Desdemona  comes  : 
If  she  be  false,  O,  then  Heaven  mocks  itself ! 
I'll  not  believe't. 

Re-enter  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 

Des.  How  now,  my  dear  Othello  !      \P 

Your  dinner,  and  the  generous  islanders  .x^jlt 

By  you  invited,  do  attend  your  presence.-'^  ^ 

0th.    I  am  to  blame. 

Des.  Why  do  you  speak  so  faintly? 

Are  you  not  well? 

0th.    I  have  a  pain  upon  my  forehead  here. 

Des.    Faith,  that's  with  watching  ;  'twill  away  again  : 
Let  me  but  bind  it  hard,  within  this  hour 
It  will  be  well. 

0th.  Your  napkin  ^^  is  too  litUe  ; 

\_He  puts  the  handkercliief  from  him  ;  and  she  drops  if. 
Let  it  alone.     Come,  I'll  go  in  with  you. 

Des.    I'm  very  sorry  that  you  are  not  well. 

\_Exeunt  Othello  and  Desdemona. 

Efnil.    I  am  glad  I  have  found  this  napkin. 
This  was  her  first  remembrance  from  the  Moor  : 
My  wayward  husband  hath  a  hundred  ^^  times 

31  When  we  begin  to  live.     The  proper  meaning  of  quick. 

32  Wait  for  or  await  your  coining.     See  vol.  v.  page  208,  note  16. 

33  Napkin  and  handkerchief  were  used  interchangeably. 

34  Hundred  for  an  indefinite  number ;  still  it  shows  that  the  unity  of  time 
is  much  less  observed  in  this  play  than  some  have  supposed.  Thus  far, 
indeed,  only  one  night,  since  that  of  the  marriage,  has  been  expressly  ac- 
counted for ;  and  this  was  the  night  when  the  nuptials  were  celebrated,  and 
Cassio  cashiered ;  though  several  must  have  passed  during  the  sea-voyage. 
From  lago's  soliloquy  at  the  close  of  Act  i.,  it  is  clear  he  had  his  plot  even 
then  so  far  matured,  that  he  might  often  woo  his  wife  to  steal  the  handkerchief 
while  at  sea.  Moreover,  we  may  well  enough  suppose  a  considerable  inter- 
val of  time  between  the  first  and  third  scenes  of  the  present  Act;  since 
Cassio  may  not  have  had  the  interview  with  Desdemona  immediately  after 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  23/ 

Woo'd  me  to  steal't ;  but  she  so  loves  the  token,  —     (_ 

For  he  conjured  her  she  should  ever  keep  it,  — 

That  she  reserves  it  evermore  about  her  £,M 

To  kiss  and  talk  to.     I'll  have  the  work  ta'en  out,^^ 

And  give't  I  ago  : 

What  he  will  do  with  it  Heaven  knows,  not  I ; 

I  nothing  but  to  please  his  fantasy. 

Re-enter  Iago. 

lago.   How  now  !  what  do  you  here  alone  ? 

Emil.    Do  not  you  chide  ;  I  have  a  thing  for  you. 

Iago.    A  thing  for  me  !     It  is  a  common  thing  — 

Emil.    Ha  ! 

Iago.    —  to  have  a  foolish  wife. 

Emil.    O,  is  that  all?     What  will  you  give  me  now 
For  that  same  handkerchief? 

Iago.  What  handkerchief? 

Emil.    What  handkerchief ! 
Why,  that  the  Moor  first  gave  to  Desdemona ; 
That  which  so  often  you  did  bid  me  steal. 

lao-o.    Hast  stol'n  it  from  her? 


he  engaged  Emilia  to  solicit  it  for  him.  In  truth,  however,  the  reckoning 
of  time  all  through  follows  the  laws  of  poetry,  and  laughs  at  the  chronolo- 
gists.  Wilson  ("  Kit  North  ")  observes,  not  more  shrewdly  than  justly,  that 
Shakespeare  has  two  clocks ;  one,  of  the  understanding,  another,  of  the 
imagination.  The  former  goes  by  the  measures  of  sense;  the  latter,  by  the 
measure  of  ideas.,  If  we  insist  on  having  the  two  clocks  harmonize  and 
tally  together,  we  shall  run  into  manifold  contradictions  and  absurdities. 
But  the  imagination  has  its  own  laws;  and  in  works  of  imagination,  espe- 
cially in  the  Drama,  those  laws  are  paramount.  Nevertheless,  if  rightly 
followed,  as  Shakespeare  commonly  follows  them,  they  do  not  clash  with 
the  laws  of  sensation,  but  simply  range  beside  or  above  them ;  and  will 
carry  us  smoothly  along,  unless  we  choose  to  stick  in  the  others ;  as  people 
who  know  too  much  often  do. 

35  Ta'en  out  is  copied.  Her  first  thought  is  to  have  a  copy  made  for  her 
husband,  and  restore  the  original  to  Desdemona;  but  the  sudden  coming 
of  Iago,  in  a  surly  humour,  makes  her  aher  her  resolution. 


238  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

Emit.    No,  faith  ;  she  let  it  drop  by  negligence, 
And,  to  th'  advantage,"^*^  I,  being  here,  took't  up. 
Look,  here  it  is. 

lago.  A  good  wench  ;  give  it  me. 

Emil.    What   will    you    do    with't,    that    you've    been    so 
earnest 
To  have  me  filch  it? 

lago.  Why,  what's  that  to  you? 

\_Snafchi>ig  it. 

Emil.    If 't  be  not  for  some  purpose  of  imp6rt, 
Give't  me  again  :  poor  lady,  she'll  run  mad 
When  she  shall  lack  it. 

lago.    Be  not  acknown  on't ;  ^'^  I  have  use  for  it. 
Go,  leave  me.  —  \_Exif  Emilia. 

I  will  in  Cassio's  lodging  lose  this  napkin, 
And  let  him  find  it.     Trifles  light  as  air 
Are  to  the  jealous  confirmations  strong 
As  proofs  of  Holy  Writ :   this  may  do  something. 
The  Moor  already  changes  with  my  poison  : 
Dangerous  conceits  are,  in  their  natures,  poisons, 
Wliich  at  the  first  are  scarce  found  to  distaste, 
But,  with  a  little  act  upon  the  blood. 
Burn  like  the  mines  of  sulphur.     I  did  say  so  : 
Look,  where  he  comes  !  ^^  —  Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora,^^ 

36  That  is,  "  I  being  here  just  at  the  nick  of  time,  or  pat  upon  the  oppor- 
tunity."   Advantage  is  so  used  repeatedly  in  this  play.    See,page  188,  note  41. 

37  "  Do  not  acknoivledge  you  have  seen  it."  The  word  occurs  in  Har- 
rington's Life  of  Ariosto,  iborj  :  "  Some  say  he  was  married  to  her  privilie, 
but  durst  not  be  acknown  of  it." 

38  In  "  I  did  say  so,"  lago  refers  to  what  he  has  just  said,  that  dangerous 
conceptions  or  imaginations  have  in  them  an  inflaming  virus,  which,  by  work- 
ing a  little  in  the  blood,  sets  it  all  on  fire,  and  fills  the  mind  with  sleepless 
perturbation.  Then,  the  moment  his  eye  lights  on  Othello,  he  sees  that  his 
devilish  insight  of  things  was  punctually  prophetic  of  Othello's  case;  that 
his  words  are  exactly  verified  in  the  inflamed  looks  of  his  victim. 

89  The  mandrake,  which  was  often  called  niatidragora,  is  highly  soporific, 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  239 

Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world, 
Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
Which  thou  owedst  yesterday. 

Re-enter  Othello.  \     i\\^^^^, 

0th.  Ha  !  ha  !  false  to  me?   ''  cLq 

lago.    Why,  how  now,  general !  no  more  of  that. 

0th.    Avaunt  !  be  gone  !  thou  hast  set  me  on  the  rac 
I  swear  'tis  better  to  be  much  abused 
Than  but  to  know't  a  little. 

lago.  How  now,  my  lord  ! 

0th.  What  sense  had  I  of  her  stol'n  hours  of  lust? 
I  saw't  not,  thought  it  not,  it  harm'd  not  me  : 
I  slept  the  next  night  well,  was  free  and  merry ; 
I  found  not  Cassio's  kisses  on  her  lips  : 
He  that  is  robb'd,  not  wanting  what  is  stol'n. 
Let  him  not  know't,  and  he's  not  robb'd  at  all. 

lago.    I  am  sorry  to  hear  this. 

0th.    I  had  been  happy,  if  the  general  camp. 
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,  th'  ear-piercing  fife,'" 

and  was  formerly  used  when  a  powerful  opiate  was  wanted.     See  vol.  xvi. 
page  29,  note  i. 

4"  There  is  some  resemblance  between  this  speech  and  the  following  lines 
in  Peele's  "  Farewell  to  the  Famous  and  Fortunate  Generals  of  our  English 

Forces,"  1589 : 

And  let  god  Mars  his  trumpet  make  you  mirth, 
The  roaring  cannon,  and  the  brazen  trumpe, 
The  angry-sounding  drum,  the  whistling  Jife, 
The  shriekes  of  men,  the  princelie  courser's  7iey. 
^1  In  mentioning  \\v.'  fife  joined  fo  the  drum,  Siiakcs[)eare,  as  usual,  paint.s 


240  OTHELLO,  ACT 

The  royal  banner,  and  all  quality. 
Pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war  ! 
And,  O  you  mortal  engines,  whose  rude  throats 
Th'  immortal  Jove's  dread  clamours  counterfeit, 
Farewell  !    Othello's  occupation's  gone  ! 

lago.    Is't  possible,  my  lord  ? 

Oth.    Villain,  be  sure  thou  prove  my  love  a  whore,    .<;  .'■ 
Be  sure  of  it ;  give  me  the  ocular  proof  ;_^        ^ ,  ?->'^ 
Or,  by  the  worth  of  man's  eterrtal  ''^  soul. 
Thou  hadst  been  better  have  been  born  a  dog 
Than  answer  my  waked  wrath  ! 

lago.  Is't  come  to  this? 

Oth.    Make  me  to  see't ;  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  ! 

lago.    My  noble  lord,  — 

Otli.  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. 


from  life ;  those  instruments  being  used  together  in  his  age  by  the  English 
soldiery.  Theyf/^,  however,  was  discontinued  for  many  years,  but  at  length 
revived  by  the  British  guards  under  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  at  Maestricht 
in  1747,  and  thence  adopted  into  other  English  regiments. 

■^^  Eternal  is  repeatedly  used  by  the  Poet  for  immortal.  — •  The  next  line, 
"  Thou  hadst  been  better  have  been  born,"  is  something  of  a  puzzle  in 
grammar,  'hough  clear  enough  in  sense. 

^3  Retnorse,  in  Shakespeare,  usually  means  pity  or  compassion  :  here,  as 
also  again  near  the  end  of  this  scene,  it  stands,  apparently,  for  conscience  ; 
the  sense  of  the  passage  being,  "  Cast  off,  spurn  away  the  restraints  and 
regards  of  conscience  altogether,  and  plunge  headlong  into  all  sorts  of 
lawless,  remorseless,  and  inhuman  atrocities."  The  sense  oi pity,  however, 
is  included  and  interfused  with  the  other.  What  an  appalling  disclosure 
the  speech  is,  of  Othello's  excruciating  agony  of  mind ! 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  24I 

iago.  O  grace  !  O  Heaven  forgive  me  ! 

Are  you  a  man  ?  have  you  a  soul  or  sense  ? 
God  b'  wi'  you  !  take  mine  office.  —  O  wretched  fool, 
That  livest  to  make  thine  honesty  a  vice  !  — 

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

1  thank  you  for  this  profit ;  and  from  hence 

I'll  love  no  friend,  since  love  breeds  such  offence. 

0th.    Nay,  stay  :  thou  shouldst  be  honest. 

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

Oih.  By  the  world, 

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,  tliat  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  ! 

lago.    I  see,  sir,  you  are  eaten  up  witli  passion  : 
I  do  repent  me  that  I  put  it  to  you. 
You  would  be  satisfied  ? 

0th.  Would  !  nay,  I  will. 

lago.    And  may;  but  how?  how  satisfied,  my  lord? 
Would  you,  the  supervisor,  grossly  gape  on,  — 
Behold  her  tupp'd  ? 

0th.  Death  and  damnation  !  O  ! 

lago.    It  were  a  tedious  difficult}-,  I  think, 
To  bring  them  to  that  prospect :   damn  them,  then. 
If  ever  mortal  eyes  do  see  them  bolster 
More  than  their  own  !  '•■^     What  then  ?  how  then  ? 


44  The  meaning  probably  is,  "  If  ever  any  other  human  eyes  than  theii 
own  do  see  them  pillow  thtir  heads  tOCTo-thcr." 


242  .  OTHELLO,  ACT  UI.-*^ 


v  fy 


What  shall  I  say?     Where's  satisfaction? 

It  is  impossible  you  should  see  this, 

Were  they  as  prime  "^^  as  goats,  as  hot  as  monkeys. 

As  salt  as  wolves  in  prid^,*''  and  fools  as  gross  , 

As  ignorance  made  drunk.     But  yet,  I  say,  '*' 

If  imputation  and  strong  circumstances  '*''  —        '  ^  ^    , 

Which  lead  directly  to  the  door  of  truth —  -■' 

Will  give  you  satisfaction,  you  may  have't. 

O//1.    Give  me  a  living  reason  ''^  she's  disloyal.  y   V 

/irgo.    I  do  not  like  the  office  :  ^  ^,"'  'I 

But,  sith  I'm  enter'd  in  this  cause  so  far,  — ^~~~--^    ^ 
Prick'd  to't  by  foolish  honesty  and  love,  — 
I  will  go  on.     I  lay  with  Cassio  lately ; 
And,  being  troubled  with  a  raging  tooth, 
I  could  not  sleep.     There  are  a  kind  of  men 
So  loose  of  soul,  that  in  their  sleeps  will  mutter 
Of  their  affairs  :  one  of  this  kind  is  Cassio. 
In  sleep  I  heard  him  say.  Sweet  Desdemona, 
Let  us  be  7vary,  let  us  hide  our  loves  ; 
And  then,  sir,  would  he  gripe  and  wring  my  hand. 
Cry  O  S7ueet  creature  !  and  then  kiss  me  hard, 
As  if  he  pluck'd  up  kisses  by  the  roots 
That  grew  upon  my  lips  :  then  laid  his  leg 
Over  my  thigh,  and  sigh'd,  and  kiss'd  ;  and  then 

•^5  Prime  was  sometimes  used  in  the  sense  of  eager  or  forward,  and  is  so 
explained  by  old  Cotgrave.  The  substantive  often  meant  Spring,  and  hence, 
by  the  usual  course  of  metaphor,  came  to  stand  for  the  impetuosity  of 
youth. 

•'s  "  Wolves  in  pride"  is,  I  take  it,  wolves  in  fine  condition,  in  the  pride 
of  full  vigour  and  lustihood.     No  uncommon  use  of  the  word. 

■1"  "  Imputation  and  strong  circumstances"  is  equivalent  to  "opinion  or 
inference  based  upon  strong  circumstantial  evidence."  This  use  of  and  in 
coupling  a  principal  and  an  auxiliary  notion  is  quite  frequent.  See  vol. 
XV.  page  24,  note  7. 

■•s  "  A  living  reason  "  is  a  reason  drawn  from  life ;  that  is,  founded  on 
fact  and  experience,  not  on  conjecture  or  surmise. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  243 

Cried  Cursed  fate  that  gave  thee  to  the  Moor  ! 

0th.    O  monstrous  !  monstrous  ! 

I(^S'^-  Nay,  this  was  but  his  dream. 

0th.    But  this  denoted  a  foregone  conclusion  :  ■^^  ^ 

'Tis  a  shrewd  doubt,^''  though  it  be  but  a  dream.       c^^yoU - <:^-*-^ '"'^ 

lago.    And  this  may  help  to  thicken  other  proofs  .eJ<9^>f^ 

That  do  demonstrate  thinly. 

0th.  I'll  tear  her  all  to  pieces. 

lago.    Nay,  but  be  wise  :  yet  we  see  nothing  done ;  ^^ 
She  may  be  honest  yet.     Tell  me  but  this  : 
Have  you  not  sometimes  seen  a  handkerchief 
Spotted  with  strawberries  in  your  wife's  hand? 

0th.    I  gave  her  such  a  one  ;   'twas  my  first  gift. 

lago.    I  know  not  that :  but  such  a  handkerchief  — 
I'm  sure  it  was  your  wife's  —  did  I  to-day 
See  Cassio  wipe  his  beard  with. 

0  th.  Ifitbethat, — 

lago.    If  it  be  that,  or  any  that  was  hers, 
It  speaks  against  her  with  the  other  proofs. 

0th.    O,  that  the  slave  had  forty  thousand  lives  ! 
One  is  too  poor,  too  weak  for  my  revenge. 
Now  do  I  see  'tis  true.     Look  here,  lago ; 
All  my  fond  love  thus  do  I  blow  to  Heaven  : 
'Tis  gone.  — 
Arise,  black  vengeance,  from  the  hollow  Hell  \^^ 


*3  Conclusion  is  the  old  word  for  experiment.  So  that  "  a  foregone  con- 
clusion "  is  an  antecedent  experience.     See  vol.  xvi.  page  161,  note  41. 

5'  A  shrewd  doubt  is  a  ■well-aimed  suspicion.  Here,  by  a  common  figure 
of  speech,  the  effect  is  put  for  the  cause.  This  use  of  doubt  occurs  quite 
often. 

''1  An  oblique  sarcasm,  referring  to  Othello's  demand  for  "  ocular  proof." 
lago  is  exulting  in  his  intellectual  mastery  as  shown  in  the  success  of  his 
lies.  Truth  prevails  by  her  own  might;  lies,  by  the  skill  of  the  liar:  hence 
gaining  his  ends  by  falsehood  is  to  lago  just  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world. 

62  Readers  of  Milton  will  be  apt  to  remember,  "  He  call'd  so  loud,  that 


244  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

Yield  up,  O  love,  thy  crown  and  hearted  throne 
To  tyrannous  hate  !     Swell,  bosom,  with  tliy  fraught, 
For  'tis  of  aspics'  tongues  !  ^^ 

/ago.  Yet  be  content. 

0//i.    O,  Hood,  blood,  blood  ! 

Iag(K    Patience,  I  say  ;  your  mind  perhaps  may  change. 

0//i.    Never,  lago.     Like  to  the  Pontic  sea, 
Whose  icy  current  and  compulsive  course 
Ne'er  feels  retiring  ebb,  but  keeps  due  on 
To  the  Propontic  and  the  Hellespont  ;^^ 
Even  so  my  bloody  thoughts,  with  violent  pace. 
Shall  ne'er  look  back,  ne'er  ebb  to  humble  love. 
Till  that  a  capable  -'^^  and  wide  revenge 
Swallow  them  up.  —  Now,  by  yond  marble  heaven. 
In  the  due  reverence  of  a  sacred  vow  \^Kneels. 

I  here  engage  my  words. 

lago.  Do  not  rise  yet.  —  \_Kncels. 

Witness,  you  ever-burning  lights  above. 
You  elements  that  clip  us  round  about,  — 
Witness  that  here  lago  doth  give  up 
The  execution  ■'''^  of  his  wit,  hands,  heart, 
To  wrong'd  Othello's  service  !     Let  him  command, 
And  to  obey  shall  be  in  me  remorse,^''' 

all  the  holloiv  deep  of  Hell  resounded  "  ;  and,  "  The  universal  host  sent  up 
a  shout  that  tore  Hell's  concave." 

^3  Fraught  is  but  an  old  form  o{  freight.  —  Shakespeare  has  several  allu- 
sions to  the  poisonous  mouth  of  that  ancient  beast,  the  asp  of  Nile;  and  the 
catastrophe  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  is  made  to  turn  on  its  deadly  bite. 

54  PUny's  Natural  History,  Holland's  translation,  i6oi,  may  have  furnished 
this  illustiation :  "  .And  the  sea  Pontus  evermore  floweth  and  runneth  out 
into  Propontis,  but  the  sea  never  retireth  backe  again  within  Pontus." 

55  Capable  is  here  used  for  capacious,  comprehensive.  So  Nash,  in  his 
Pierce  Petin Hesse,  1592  :  "  Then  belike,  quoth  I,  you  make  this  word  Dcemon 
a  capable  name,  of  gods,  of  men,  of  devils." 

5G  Execution  for  exercise,  emplbyment,  or  executive  power. 

5'  Remorse  for  conscience,  simply.     lago  has  before  said,  "  I  hold  it  very 


SCENE  IV.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  245 

What  bloody  work  soe'er.  S^They  rise. 

0th.  I  greet  thy  love, 

Not  with  vain  thanks,  but  with  acceptance  bounteous, 
And  will  upon  the  instant  put  thee  to't : 
Within  these  three  days  let  me  hear  thee  say 
That  Cassio's  not  alive. 

lago.    My  friend  is  dead  ;   'tis  done  at  your  request : 
But  let  her  live. 

0th.  Damn  her,  lewd  minx  !  O,  damn  her  ! 

Come,  go  with  me  apart  ;   I  will  withdraw, 
To  furnish  me  with  some  swift  means  of  death 
For  the  fair  devil.     Now  art  thou  my  lieutenant. 

lago.    I  am  your  own  for  ever.  \_Exeunf. 


Scene  IV.  —  Before  the  Castle. 
Enter  Desdemona,  Emilia,  and  Clown. 

Des.    Do  you  know,  sirrah,  where  Lieutenant  Cassio  lies  ? 

Clo.    I  dare  not  say  he  lies  anywhere. 

Des.    Why,  man  ? 

Clo.  He's  a  soldier ;  and  for  one  to  say  a  soldier  lies,  is 
stabbing. 

Des.    Go  to  :  where  lodges  he  ? 

Clo.  To  tell  you  where  he  lodges,  is  to  tell  you  where  I 
lie. 

Des.    Can  any  thing  be  made  of  this? 

Clo.  I  know  not  where  he  lodges  ;  and  for  me  to  devise  a 
lodging,  and  say  he  lies  here  or  he  lies  there,  were  to  lie  in 
mine  own  throat. 

stuff  o'  the  conscience  to  do  not  contrived  murder."  So  the  meaning  liere 
is, "  Let  him  command  whatever  bloody  work  he  may,  to  perform  it  shall  be 
with  me  a  matter  of  conscience."  This  explanation  is  Mr.  Joseph  Crosby's. 
See  vol.  .\iv.  page  35,  note  7. 


246  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

Des.    Can  you  inquire  him  out,  and  be  edified  by  report? 

Clo.  I  will  catechize  the  world  for  him  ;  that  is,  make 
questions,  and  by  them  answer. 

Des.  Seek  him,  bid  him  come  hither  :  tell  him  I  have 
moved  my  lord  on  his  behalf,  and  hope  all  will  be  well. 

Clo.  To  do  this  is  within  the  compass  of  man's  wit ;  and 
therefore  I  will  attempt  the  doing  it.  S^Exit. 

Des.    Where  should  I  lose  that  handkerchief,  Emilia? 

Emil.    I  know  not,^  madam. 

Des.    Believe  me,  I  had  rather  have  lost  my  purse 
Full  of  crusadoes  :  ~  and,  but  my  noble  Moor 
Is  true  of  mind,  and  made  of  no  such  baseness 
As  jealous  creatures  are,  it  were  enough 
To  put  him  to  ill  thinking. 

Einil.  Is  he  not  jealous? 

Des.    Who,  he?     I  think  the  Sun  where  he  was  born 
Drew  all  such  humours  from  him. 

Emil.  Look,  here  he  comes. 

Dfs.    I  will  not  leave  him  now  till  Cassio 
Be  call'd  to  him. — 

Enter  Othello. 

How  is't  with  you,  my  lord? 

1  Objection  has  been  made  to  the  conduct  of  Emilia  in  this  scene,  as 
inconsistent  with  the  spirit  she  afterwards  shows.  I  can  discover  no  such 
inconsistency.  Want  of  principle  and  strength  of  attachment  are  often  thus 
seen  united.  Emilia  loves  her  mistress  deeply ;  but  she  has  no  moral  re- 
pugnance to  theft  and  falsehood,  apprehends  no  fatal  consequences  from 
the  Moor's  passion,  and  has  no  soul  to  conceive  the  agony  her  mistress 
must  suffer  by  the  charge  of  infidelity  :  and  it  is  but  natural,  that  when  the 
result  comes  she  should  be  the  more  spirited  for  the  very  remembrance  of 
her  own  guilty  part  in  the  process. 

-  It  appears  from  Rider's  Dictionary  that  there  were  three  sorts  of  crusa- 
does ;  one  with  a  long  cross,  one  with  a  short  cross,  and  the  great  crusado 
of  Portugal.  They  were  of  gold,  and  differed  in  value  from  six  shillings 
and  eightpence  to  nine  shillings. 


SCENE  IV.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  24/ 

Oih.   Well,  my  good  lady.  —  \_Aside^   O,  hardness  to  dis- 
semble !  — 
How  do  you,  Desdemona? 

Des.  Well,  my  good  lord. 

0th.    Give  me  your  hand.    This  hand  is  moist,  my  lady. 

Des.    It  yet  hath  felt  no  age  nor  known  no  sorrow. 

0th.    This  argues  fruitfulness  and  liberal  heart : 
Hot,  hot,  and  moist  !  this  hand  of  yours  requires 
A  sequester  from  libert}-,  fasting  and  prayer, 
Much  castigation,  exercise  devout ; 
For  here's  a  young  and  sweating  devil  here. 
That  commonly  rebels.     'Tis  a  good  hand, 
A  frank  one. 

Des.  You  may,  indeed,  say  so  ; 

For  'twas  that  hand  that  gave  away  my  heart. 

0th.    A  liberal  hand  :  the  hearts  of  old  gave  hands  ; 
But  our  new  heraldry  is  hands,  not  hearts.-' 

Des.    I  cannot  speak  of  this.     Come  now,  your  promise. 

0th.    What  promise,  chuck? 

Des.    I've  sent  to  bid  Cassio  come  speak  with  you. 

0th.    I  have  a  salt  and  sorry  rheum  offends  me  ; 
Lend  me  thy  handkerchief. 

Des.    Here,  my  lord. 

0th.    I'hat  which  I  gave  you. 

Des.    I  have  it  not  about  me. 

0th.    Not? 

Des.    No,  indeed,  my  lord. 

3  This  "  new  heraldry  "  seems  to  be  an  allusion  to  the  bloody  hand  borne 
on  the  arms  of  the  new  order  of  baronets,  created  by  James  I.  in  i6ii. 
Malone  quotes,  in  illustration  of  the  text,  the  following  from  the  Essays  of 
Sir  William  Cornwallis,  i6oi :  "  We  of  these  later  times,  full  of  a  nice  curios- 
itie,  mislike  all  the  performances  of  our  forefathers  ;  we  say  they  were  hon- 
est plaine  men,  but  they  want  the  capering  wits  of  this  ripe  age.  They  had 
wont  to  give  their  hands  and  hearts  together,  but  7ve  think  it  a  finer  grace  to 
looke  asquint,  our  hand  /ludcing  one  way  and  our  heart  another." 


248  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

0th.   That  is  a  fault.     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  loathed,  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  on't  \ 
Make  it  a  darling  like  your  precious  eye  ; 
To  lose't  or  give't  away  were  such  perdition 
As  nothing  else  could  match. 

Des.  Is't  possible? 

0th.    'Tis  true  :  there's  magic  in  the  web  of  it. 
A  sibyl,  that  had  number'(i  in  the  world 
The  Sun  to  course  two  hundred  compasses, 
In  her  prophetic  fury  sevv'd  the  work  ;  ^    ' 

The  worms  were  hallow'd  that  did  breed  the  silk ; 

.■\nd  it  was  dyed  in  mummy  ^"vvTiicli  the  skilful 

Conserved  of  maidens'  hearts. 

Des.  Indeed!  is't  true? 

4  A  charmer  is  used  for  an  enchanter  in  the  Psalms.  So  in  Perkin's  Dis- 
course on  Witchcraft,  1610 :  "  By  witches  we  understand  not  only  those 
which  kill  and  torment,  but  all  charmers,  jugglers,  all  wizards,  commonly 
called  wise  men  and  wise  women." 

5  Her  refers  to  the  noun  implied  in  ivive.  In  the  last  scene  of  the  play 
Othello  speaks  of  the  handkerchief  as  "  an  antique  tokeji  my  father  gave  my 
mother."  This  has  been  thought  an  oversight;  Steevens  regards  it  as  a 
fresh  proof  of  the  Poet's  art.  "The  first  account,"  says  he,  "  was  purposely 
ostentatious,  in  order  to  alarm  his  wife  the  more.  When  he  again  mentions 
if,  the  truth  was  sufficient." 

8  The  balsamic  liquor  running  from  mummies  was  formerly  celebrated  for 
its  anti-epileptic  virtues.  It  was  much  coveted  by  painters,  as  a  transparent 
brown  colour  that  threw  a  warmth  into  the  shadows  of  a  picture. 


SCENE  IV.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  249 

0th.    Most  veritable  ;  therefore  look  to't  well. 

Des.    Then  would  to  God  that  I  liad  never  seen't  ! 

0th.    Ha!  wherefore? 

Des.    Why  do  you  speak  so  startingly  and  rash  ? 

0th.    Is't  lost?  is't  gone?  speak,  is  it  out  o'  the  way? 

Des.    Heaven  bless  us  ! 

0th.    Say  you? 

Des.    It  is  not  lost ;  but  what  an  if  it  were  ? 

0th.    How  ! 

Des.    I  say,  it  is  not  lost. 

0th.  Fetch't,  let  me  see't. 

Des.    Why,  so  I  can,  sir,  but  I  will  not  now. 
This  is  a  trick  to  put  me  from  my  suit : 
Pray  you,  let  Cassio  be  received  again. 

0th.    Fetch  me  the  handkerchief :  my  mind  misgives. 

Des     Come,  come  ; 
You'll  never  meet  a  more  sufficient  man. 

0th.    The  handkerchief! 

Des.  I  pray,  talk  me  of  Cassio. 

0th.    The  handkerchief! 

Des.  A  man  that  all  his  time 

Hath  founded  his  good  fortunes  on  your  love, 
Shared  dangers  with  you, — 

0th.    The  handkerchief ! 

Des.    In  sooth,  you  are  to  blame. 

0th.    Away  !  \_Exit 

Emil.    Is  not  this  man  jealous? 

Des.    I  ne'er  saw  this  before. 
Sure,  there's  some  wonder  in  this  handkerchief: 
I'm  most  unhappy  in  the  loss  of  it. 

Emit.    'Tis  not  a  year  or  two  shows  us  a  man  : 
They're  all  but  stomachs,  and  we  all  but  food ; 
They  eat  us  hungerly,  and,  when  they're  full. 
They  belch  us.     Look  you,  Cassio  and  my  husband  ! 


2!;o  ^1  \  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

'  Enter  Cassio  and  Iago. 

Jago.    There  is  no  other  way  ;   'tis  she  must  do't : 
And,  lo,  the  happiness  ! "  go,  and  imp6rtune  her. 

Des.    How  now,  good  Cassio  !  what's  the  news  with  you  ? 

Cas.    Madam,  my  former  suit :   I  do  beseech  you 
That  by  your  virtuous  means  I  may  again 
Exist,  and  be  a  member  of  his  love 
Whom  I  with  all  the  office  of  my  heart 
Entirely  honour  :   I  would  not  be  delay'd. 
If  my  offence  be  of  such  mortal  kind 
That  nor  my  service  past,  nor  present  sorrow, 
Nor  purposed  merit  in  futurity, 
Can  ransom  me  into  his  love  again, 
But  to  know  so  must  be  my  benefit ; 
So  shall  I  clothe  me  in  a  forced  content. 
And  shut  myself  up  in  some  other  course,  -^^j^   qV 

To  fortune's  alms.*^ 

Des.  Alas,  thrice-gentle  Cassio  ! 

My  advocation  is  not  now  in  tune  ; 
My  lord  is  not  my  lord  ;  nor  should  I  know  him. 
Were  he  in  favour  as  in  humour  alter'd. 
So  help  me  every  spirit  sanctified, 
As  I  have  spoken  for  you  all  my  best, 
And  stood  within  the  blank  ^  of  his  displeasure 
For  my  free  speech  !     You  must  awhile  be  patient : 
What  I  can  do  I  will ;  and  more  I  will 
Than  for  myself  I  dare  :  let  that  suffice  you. 
Iago.    Is  my  lord  angry? 

T  Happiness,  here,  \s  ^ood  hap  or  lucky  chance  ;  referring  to  the  timely  and 
opportune  meeting  with  Desdemona. 

s  Probably  meaning,  "  content  myself  with,  settle  my  mind  upon,  or 
Vjound  my  thoughts  within,  some  other  way  and  means  of  living,  such  as^ 
charitable  fortune  opens  or  offers  to  the  needy." 

»  The  blank  is  the  7vhite  spot  of  a  mark,  at  which  the  shots  are  aimed. 
So  that  to  stantl  7vithin  the  blank  is  to  stand  directly  before  the  aim. 


SCENE  IV.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  25  I 

Emil.  He  went  hence  but  now, 

And  certainly  in  strange  unquietness. 

lago.    Can  he  be  angry  ?     I  have  seen  the  cannon, 
When  it  hath  blown  his  ranks  into  the  air, 
And,  like  the  Devil,  from  his  very  arm 
•Puff  d  his  own  brother  ;  and  can  he  be  angry  ? 
Something  of  moment,  then  :   I  will  go  meet  him  : 
There's  matter  in't  indeed,  if  he  be  angry. 

Des.    I  pr'ythee,  do  so.  — -  \^Exit  Iago. 

Something,  sure,  of  State  — • 
Either  from  Venice,  or  some  unhatch'd  practice  '^ 
Made  demonstrable  here  in  Cyprus  to  him  — 
Hath  puddled  his  clear  spirit  ;  ^'  and  in  such  cases 
Men's  natures  wrangle  with  inferior  things, 
Though  great  ones  are  their  object.     'Tis  even  so ; 
For  let  our  finger  ache,  and  it  indues 
Our  other  healthful  members  even  to  that  sense 
Of  pain  :  nay,  we  must  think  men  are  not  gods, 
Nor  of  them  look  for  such  observancy  i- 
As  fits  the  bridal.     Beshrew  me  much,  Emilia, 
I  was  —  unhandsome  warrior  as  I  am  — 
Arraigning  his  unkindness  with  my  soul ; 
But  now  I  find  I  had  suborn'd  the  witness. 
And  he's  indicted  falsely. 

Emil.    Pray  Heaven  it  be  State-matters,  as  you  think, 
And  no  conception  nor  no  jealous  toy  ^"^ 
Concerning  you. 

1"  That  is,  some  hidden  plot,  conspiracy,  or  machination.  Such  is  often 
the  meaning  oi practice.     See  vol.  xv.  page  151,  note  25. 

11  Puddled  with  the  exact  meaning  of  our  old  Yankee  word  riled. 

12  Observancy,  here,  is  watchful,  tender,  and  devout  attention  or  compli- 
ance. So  in  As  You  Like  It,  v.  2,  where  Silvius  describes  "  what  'tis  to  love  "  : 
"  It  is  to  be  all  adoration,  duty,  and  observance ,  all  humbleness,"  &c. 

13  Toy  for  whim,  fancy,  or  crotchet,  such  as  are  apt  to  haunt  and  fascinate 
suspicious  heads.    See  vol.  ix.  page  144,  note  13. 


2$ 2  OTHELLO,  act  hi. 

Des.   Alas  the  day,  I  never  gave  him  cause  ! 

Emil.    But  jealous  souls  will  not  be  answer'd  so ; 
They  are  not  ever  jealous  for  the  cause, 
But  jealous  for  they're  jealous  :   'tis  a  monster 
Begot  upon  itself,  born  on  ^^  itself. 

Des.    Heaven  keep  that  monster  from  Othello's  mind  ! 

Emil.    Lady,  amen  ! 

Des.    I  will  go  seek  him.  —  Cassio,  walk  hereabout : 
If  I  do  find  him  fit,  I'll  move  your  suit, 
And  seek  t'  effect  it  to  my  uttermost. 

Cas.    I  humbly  thank  your  ladyship. 

\_Exei/>it  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 

Enter  Bianca. 

Bian.    Save  you,  friend  Cassio  ! 

Cas.  What  make  you  from  home  ?  ^^ 

How  is  it  with  you,  my  most  fair  Bianca? 
I'faith,  sweet  love,  I  was  coming  to  your  house. 

Bia7t.    And  I  was  going  to  your  lodging,  Cassio. 
What,  keep  a  week  away?^*  seven  days  and  nights? 
Eight  score  eight  hours?  and  lovers'  absent  hours. 
More  tedious  than  the  dial  eight  score  times? 

0  weary  reckoning  ! 

Cas.  Pardon  me,  Bianca  : 

1  have  this  while  witli  leaden  thoughts  been  press'd ; 
But  I  shall,  in  a  more  continuate  time,^''' 

Strike  off  this  score  of  absence.     Sweet  Bianca, 


14  On  where  we  should  use  of.     Frequent.     See  vol.  xiii.  page  124,  notes. 

15  "  What  are  you  doing  away  from  home  ?  "     See  page  173,  note  12. 

16  It  would  seem,  by  this,  that  seven  days  at  least  have  elapsed  since  Cas- 
sio was  cashiered;  perhaps  much  more,  as  the  "leaden  Ihouglits"  may 
have  been  kept  off  for  some  time  by  the  hopes  built  upon  Desdemona's 
promise  of  intercession,  and  brought  on  again  by  the  unexpected  delay. 

1'^  "Continuate  time  "  is  time  uninterrupted. 


SCENE  IV.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  253 

Take  me  this  work  out.^^ 

[  Giving  her  Desdemona's  handkerchief. 

Bian.  O  Cassio,  whence  came  this  ? 

This  is  some  token  from  a  newer  friend  : 
To  the  felt  absence  now  I  feel  a  cause. 
I-s't  come  to  this?     Well,  well. 

Cas.  Go  to,  woman  ! 

Throw  your  vile  guesses  in  the  Devil's  teeth, 
From  whence  you  have  them.     You  are  jealous  now 
That  this  is  from  some  mistress,  some  remembrance  : 
No,  in  good  troth,  Bianca. 

Bian.  Why,  whose  is  it? 

Cas.    I  know  not,  sweet :  I  found  it  in  my  chamber. 
I  like  the  work  well :  ere  it  be  demanded,  — 
As  like  enough  it  will,  —  I'd  have  it  copied  : 
Take  it,  and  do't ;  and  leave  me  for  this  time. 

Bian.    Leave  you  !  wherefore? 

Cas.    I  do  attend  here  on  the  general ; 
And  think  it  no  addition,  nor  my  wish, 
To  have  him  see  me  woman'd. 

Bian.  ^^  hy,  I  pray  you? 

Cas.    Not  that  I  love  you  not. 

Bian.  But  that  you  do  not  love  .me. 

I  pray  you,  bring  me  ^'■*  on  the  way  a  little  ;         _y      ' 
And  say  if  I  shall  see  you  soon  at '-"  night.         ^.  V«ut^ 

Cas.    'Tis  but  a  little  way  that  I  can  bring  you  ; 
For  I  attend  here  :  but  Fll  see  you  soon. 

Bian.  'Tis  very  good  ;  I  must  be  circumstanced.'-^'  \_Exeunt. 

18  Copy  this  work  in  another  handkerchief.  So  in  Middieton's  Women 
beware  Women:  "She  intends /f /rt/r  out  other  works  in  a  new  sampler." 
Again  in  the  preface  to  Holland's  Pliny,  1601 :  "  Nicophanes  gave  his  mind 
wholly  to  antique  pictures,  partly  to  exemplify  and  take  out  patterns." 

15  "Bring  me  "  is  attend  or  escort  me  ;  go  w  ith  me.     Often  so. 

2"  Sioon  at  is  here  equivalent  to  about.     See  vol.  iii.  page  146,  note  i. 

21  Probably  meaning  "  1  must  yield  or  submit  to  circumstances," 


jr^  OTHELLO,  ACT   IV 


ACT    IV. 

Scene  I.  —  Cyprus.     Before  the  Castle. 
Enter  Othello  and  Iago. 

lago.    Will  you  think  so  ?  ^ 

0th.   Think  so,  Iago  ! 

Iago.    What,  to  kiss  in  private? 

0th.    An  unauthorized  kiss. 

Iago.    Or  to  be  naked  with  her  friend  in  bed 
An  hour  or  more,  not  meaning  any  harm  ? 

0th.    Naked  in  bed,  Iago,  and  not  mean  harm  ! 
It  is  hypocrisy  against  the  Devil : 
They  that  mean  virtuously  and  yet  do  so, 
The  Devil  their  virtue  tempts,  and  they  tempt  Heaven.^ 

Iago.    So  they  do  nothing,  'tis  a  venial  slip. 
But,  if  I  give  my  wife  a  handkerchief,  — 

0th.    What  then? 

Iago.    Why,  then  'tis  hers,  my  lord ;  and,  being  hers. 
She  may,  I  think,  bestow't  on  any  man. 

0th.    She  is  protectress  of  her  honour  too  : 
May  she  give  that? 

1  We  must  suppose  that  Iago  has  been  applying  cases  of  false  comfort 
to  Othello ;  as  that,  though  the  parties  had  been  even  found  kissing,  still 
there  might  be  nothing  wrong  between  them.  Such  feigned  apologies  are, 
as  he  well  knows,  just  the  things  to  heighten  the  agony  which  he  pretends 
to  soothe. 

2  Tempt  Heaven  to  abandon  them  to  the  perils  they  are  sporting  with. 
Those  who  try  how  near  they  can  dwell  to  vice  without  falling  in,  may  well 
be  said  to  tempt  Heaven.  Bale,  in  his  Actes  of  Etjglysk  Votaries,  relates  a 
story  of  St.  Adhelm,  which  the  Poet  may  have  had  in  his  eye:  "This  Ad- 
helmus  never  refused  women,  but  wold  have  them  commonly  both  at  borde 
and  bedde,  to  mocke  the  Devyll  with." 


SCENE  I;  THE    MOOR    OF    VP:NICE.  255 

lago.    Her  honour  is  an  essence  that's  not  seen ; 
They  have  it  very  oft  that  have  it  not. 
But,  for  the  handkerchief,  — 

Oth.    By  Heaven,  I  would  most  gladly  havo  forgot  it  ! 
Thou  said'st,  —  O^jLt^comes  o'er  my  memory, 
As  doth  the  raven  o'er  th'  infected  house,^ 
Boding  to  all,  —  he  had  my  handkerchief. 

lago.    Ay,  what  of  that? 

Oth.  That's  not  so  good  now. 

lago.  What, 

If  I  had  said  I  had  seen  him  do  you  wrong? 
Or  heard  liim  say,  —  as  knaves  be  such  abroad. 
Who  having,  by  their  own  importunate  suit, 
Or  voluntary  dotage  of  some  mistress, 
Convinced  or  supplied  them,''  cannot  choose 
But  they  must  blab  — 

Oth.  Hath  he  said  any  thing? 

lago.    He  hath,  my  lord  ;  but,  be  you  well  assured, 
No  more  than  he'll  unsvvear. 

Oth.  What  hath  he  said? 

lago.    Faith,  that  he  did  —  I  know  not  what  he  did. 

Oth.   What?  what?    ^   CV^- c^^    .~^dC 

lago.    Lie  — 

Oth.  With  her? 

«/    lago.  With  her,  on  her  ;  what  you  will. 

^     '      Oth.    Lie  with  her  !  lie  on  her  !  —  We  say  lie  on  her,  wIkii 
\  y^j^hey  belie  her.  —  Lie  with  her!  that's  fulsome. —  Handker- 
^    '     chief  —  confessions  —  handkerchief !  —  To  confess,  and  be 
hang'd  for  his  labour  ;  —  first,  to  be  hang'd,  and  then  to  con- 
fess. —  I  tremble  at  it.     Nature  would  not  invest  herself  in 

3  The  raven  was  thought  to  be  an  ill-boding  bird,  and  as  such  to  haunt 
houses  infected  with  the  plague.     See  page  30,  note  5. 

*  Having  either  conquered  her  reluctance  or  complied  with  her  wish. 
The  proper  meaning  of  convince  is  conquer  or  overcome. 


256  OTHELLO,  ■    ACT  IV. 

such  shadowing  passion  without  some  instruction.^     It  is  not 
words   that  shake  me  thus.  —  Pish  !   noses,   ears,   and  lips. 

—  Is't  possible  ?  —  Confess  —  handkerchief  !  —  O  devil  !  ^ 

\_Fans  ill  a  trance, 
lago.   Work  on, 
My  medicine,  work  !     Thus  credulous  fools  are  caught ; 
And  many  worthy  and  chaste  dames  even  thus, 
All  guiltless,  meet  reproach.  —  What,  ho  !  my  lord  ! 
My  lord,  I  say  !  Othello  !  — 

Enter  Cassio. 

How  now,  Cassio  ! 

5  This  passage  is  exceedingly  obscure,  and  has  called  forth,  as  well  it 
might,  a  good  deal  of  explanatory  comment.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  Othello 
is  here  in  the  first  stages  of  the  apoplectic  fit  which  presently  follows.  The 
fit  begins  with  a  strange  sensation,  coming  he  knows  not  how  or  whence ; 
such  a  sensation  as  he  has  never  had  before.  He  adds,  "  It  is  not  words 
that  shake  me  thus "  ;  meaning,  apparently,  that  the  feeling  he  now  has 
cannot  be  the  effect  of  any  audible  or  conscious  communication,  but  must 
spring  from  depths  in  his  being  which  consciousness  cannot  reach.  Of 
the  explanations  that  have  been  offered,  I  therefore,  on  the  whole,  prefer 
Heath's,  which  is  in  substance  as  follows:  Othello  feels  all  his  faculties 
suddenly  failing  him,  and  a  cloudy  darkness  stealing  fast  upon  him.  This 
suggests  to  him  that  his  very  nature,  at  her  inmost  seats  where  conscious- 
ness cannot  penetrate,  must  have  been  visited  by  some  secret,  mysterious 
touch,  some  preternatural  assurance  of  the  truth  and  reality  of  that  which 
so  oppresses  him ;  otherwise  she  (his  nature)  could  not  share  so  deeply  in 
his  present  agony,  and  thus  be  made  to  invest  herself  with  the  horrid  dark- 
ness which  is  now  overwhelming  him.  —  It  appears  that  apoplexy  and  epilepsy 
and  their  derivatives  were  sometimes  used  indiscriminately.  lago  says,  a 
little  after,  that  Othello  had  a  fit  "yesterday";  but  this  is  no  doubt  one  of 
lago's  lies.  So,  in  2  King  Henry  the  Fourth,  iv.  4,  it  is  said  of  the  King, 
"  This  apop'sx  will  certain  be  his  end."     The  disease  was  epilepsy. 

6  "  The  starts,"  says  Warburton,  "  and  broken  reflections  in  this  speech 
have  something  in  them  very  terrible,  and  show  the  mind  of  the  speaker  to 
be  in  inexpressible  agonies."  —  The  trance  is  thus  justified  by  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds :  "  Othello,  in  broken  sentences  and  single  words,  all  of  which 
have  a  reference  to  the  cause  of  his  jealousy,  shows  that  all  the  proofs  are 
present  at  once  to  his  mind,  which  so  overpower  it  that  he  falls  into  a  trance, 

—  the  natural  consequence. 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  25/ 

Cas.    What's  the  matter? 

lago.    My  lord  is  fall'n  into  an  epilepsy : 
This  is  his  second  fit ;  he  had  one  yesterday. 

Cas.    Rub  him  about  the  temples. 

Ii^go.  No,  forbear ; 

The  lethargy  must  have  his  quiet  course  : 
If  not,  he  foams  at  mouth,  and  by-and-by 
Breaks  out  to  savage  madness.     Look,  he  stirs  : 
Do  you  withdraw  yourself  a  little  while  ; 
He  will  recover  straight :  when  he  is  gone, 
I  would  on  great  occasion  speak  with  you.  —    {_Exit  Cassio. 
How  is  it,  general?  have  you  not  hurt  your.^ead-? 

0th.    Dost  thou  mock  me  ? 

Ji-^go.  I  mock  you  !  no,  by  Heaven. 

Would  you  would  bear  YOlH-Iprtune  like  a  maji  L 

0th.    A  horned  man's  a  monster  and  a  beast. 

lago.    There's  many  a  beast,  then,  in  a  populous  city, 
And  many  a  civil  monster. 

0th.    Did  he  confess  it? 

lago.  Good  sir,  be  a  man  ; 

Think  every  bearded  fellow  that's  but  yoked 
May  draw  with  you.     There's  millions  now  alive 
That  nightly  lie  in  those  unproper  beds  ^  ' 

Which  they  dare  swear  peculiar  :  '^  your  case  is  better.  ^,,>^''  i 

O,  'tis  the  spite  of  Hell,  tlie  fiend's  arch-mock,  '.\  ,ai-^  ] , 

To  lip  a  wanton  in  a  secure  couch, ^  i     . 


■.Lr.l.   . 


"  Unproper  here  means  common,  the  opposite  of  peculiar.  So  the  Latiii' 
proprius  rightly  means  07ie's  own  or  particular,  special.  The  meaning,  there- 
fore, of  the  passage  is,  "  there  are  millions  who  will  swear  that  the  beds  they 
lie  in  are  exclusively  their  own,  while  in  fact  they  do  but  share  them  in 
common  with  others."  He  then  proceeds  to  tell  Othello  that  his  case  is 
better,  since  he  has  full  knowledge  of  the  truth. 

8  That  is,  a  couch  where  the  man  lies  in  false  security  and  confidence  of 
liis  wife's  fidelity.  Secure,  again,  in  the  Latin  sense.  See  page  232,  note  19.  — 
"  The  spite  of  Hell "  is  the  same  as  "  the  fiend's  arch-mock  "  ;  and  the  latter 


2$8  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

And  to  suppose  her  chaste  !     No,  let  me  know ; 
And,  knowing  what  I  am,  I  know  what  she  shall  be. 

0th.    O,  thou  art  wise  ;   'tis  certain. 

liigo.  Stand  you  awhile  apart ; 

Confine  yourself  but  in  a  patient  list.'-* 
Whilst  you  were  here  o'erwhelmed  with  your  grief,  — 
A  passion  most  unfitting  such  a  man,  — 
Cassio  came  hither  :   I  shifted  him  away,  ^ . 

And  laid  good  'scuse  upon  your  ecstasy ;  ^  n*^ 

Bade  him  anon  return,  and  here  speak  with  me ; 
The  which  he  promised.     Do  but  encave\ourself. 
And  mark  the  fleers,  the  gibes,  and  notable  scorns. 
That  dwell  in  every  region  of  his  face  ; 
For  I  will  make  him  tell  the  tale  anew, 
Where,  how,  how  oft,  how  long  ago,  and  when 
He  hath,  and  is  again  to  cope  your  wife  : 
I  say,  but  mark  his  gesture.      Marry,  patience ; 
Or  I  shall  say  you're  all-in-all  one  spleen,^" 
And  nothing  of  a  man. 

Otli.  Dost  thou  hear,  lago? 

I  will  be  found  most  cunning  in  my  patience ; 
But  —  dost  thou  hear  ?  —  most  bloody. 

lago.  That's  not  amiss  ; 

But  yet  keep  time  in  all.     Will  you  withdraw?  — 

[Othello  retires. 

means  the  delusion  with  which  the  Devil  most  delights  to  mock  honest  men. 
In  other  words,  that  Satan's  crowning  triumph  is  when  the  virtuous  are 
gouged  and  gulled  by  those  in  whom  their  trust  stands  firmest.  And  lago 
is  mocking  Othello  with  the  consolation  that  he  is  not  yielding  the  fiend 
that  morsel  of  spite;  he  being  fully  cognizant  of  his  wife's  falsehood. 

9  "  A  patient  list  "  is  odd  language,  but  means  the  bounds  oi patience.  For 
this  use  of  list,  see  vol.  v.  page  191,  note  14. 

W  Equivalent  to  all  7nade  up  ('/"spleen.  The  spleen  appears  to  have  been 
regarded  as  the  special  seat  of  the  jnost  vehement  and  tempestuous  passions  ; 
those  which  in  their  movements  resemble  the  action  of  lightning  and  gun- 
powder.    See  vol.  iii.  page  13,  note  17. 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  259 

Now  will  I  question  Cassio  of  Bianca, 

A  housewife  that,  by  selling  her  desires, 

Buys  herself  bread  and  clothes  :  it  is  a  creature 

That  dotes  on  Cassio ;  as  'tis  the  strumpet's  plague 

To  beguile  many  and  be  beguiled  by  one. 

He,  when  he  hears  of  her,  cannot  refrain 

From  the  excess  of  laughter.     Here  he  comes. 

As  he  shall  smile,  Othello  shall  go  mad ; 

And  his  unbookish  jealousy  must  construe  ^i 

Poor  Cassio's  smiles,  gestures,  and  light  behaviour. 

Quite  in  the  wrong. — 

Re-enter  Cassio. 

How  do  you  now,  lieutenant? 

Cas.  The  worser  that  you  give  me  the  addition 
Whose  want  even  kills  me. 

lago.    Ply  Desdemona  well,  and  you  are  sure  on't. 
{Speaking  h^wer.']      Now,  if  this  suit  lay  in  Bianca's  power, 
How  quickly  should  you  speed  ! 

Cas.  Alas,  poor  caitiff ! 

Ot/i.    \_Aside.']    Look,  how  he  laughs  already  ! 

letgo.    I  never  knew  a  woman  love  man  so. 

Cas.    Alas,  poor  rogue  !     I  think,  i'faith,  she  loves  me. 

0th.    \_Aside.']    Now   he  denies   it    faintly,  and   laughs   it 
out. 

Icigo.    Do  you  hear,  Cassio? 

0th.    \_Asii/e.']  Now  he  imp6rtunes  him 

To  tell  it  o'er  :  —  go  to  ;  well  said,  well  said. 

lago.    She  gives  it  out  that  you  shall  marry  her  ; 
Do  you  intend  it? 

Cas.    Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

11  Probably,  as  Walker  says,  unbookish  is  to  be  taken  with  construe.     "  So 
that  his  jealousy  must  translate  ignorantly"  &.z. 


26o  OTHELLO,  act  iv. 

0th.  \_Asid€.'\  Do  you  triumph,  Roman?'-  do  you  tri- 
umph ? 

Cas.  I  marry  her  !  what,  a  customer !  Pr'ythee,  bear 
some  charity  to  my  wit;  do  not  think  it  so  unwholesome. i^ 
Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Oih.    \_Aside.'\    So,  so,  so,  so  :   they  laugh  that  win. 

lago.    Faith,  the  cry  goes  that  you  shall  marry  her. 

Cas.    Pr'ythee,  say  true. 

lago.    I  am  a  very  villain  else. 

0th.    \Aside^    Have  you  scored  me? !•*     Well. 

Cas.  This  is  the  monkey's  own  giving  out :  she  is  per- 
suaded I  will  marry  her,  out  of  her  own  love  and  flattery, 
not  out  of  my  promise. 

0th.    \_AsideP\   lago  beckons  me  ;  now  he  begins  the  story. 

Cas.  She  was  here  even  now  ;  she  haunts  me  in  every 
place.  I  was,  the  other  day,  talking  on  the  sea-bank  with 
certain  Venetians ;  and  thither  comes  the  bauble,  and  falls 
me  thus  about  my  neck  ;  —  ^ 

Oth.  \_Aside^  Crying  O  dear  Cassia  !  as  it  were  :  his 
gesture  imports  it. 

Cas.  —  so  hangs,  and  lolls,  and  weeps  upon  me  ;  so  hales 
and  pulls  me  :   ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Oth.    S^Aside.'\    Now  he  tells  how  she  pluck'd  him  to  my 

I'-i  The  Romans  were  a  triumphant  people,  and  were  also  fond  of  triumphs. 
So  Cassio's  seeming  exultation  probably  suggests  the  name,  and  Othello  calls 
him  Roman  ironically. 

13  Unwholesome  in  the  sense  of  unhealthy  or  diseased.     Repeatedly  so. 

!■*  I  am  not  clear  as  to  the  meaning  of  this.  To  score  was  to  cut  notches 
in  a  stick ;  and  accounts  were  formerly  kept  by  scoring  the  items  thus  in 
what  were  f-alled  tally-sticks.  In  All's  Well,  iv.  3,  we  have  the  line,  "After 
he  scores,  he  never /oj'j'  the  score" ;  and  the  context  there  shows  the  mean- 
ing to  be,  that  when  he  has  sworn  a  woman  into  granting  his  wish  he  never 
keeps  his  oaths ;  or  what  the  Poet  elsewhere  calls  "  beguiling  virgins  with 
the  broken  seals  of  perjury."  So,  in  the  text,  the  meaning  may  be,  "  Have 
you  run  up  an  account  against  me,  which  I  must  pay?  very  well;  I'll  see 
you  paid."  Or  it  may  be,  "  Have  you  squared  the  account  with  me  for 
cashiering  you  ?  " 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  26l 

chamber.  —  O,  I  see  that  nose  of  yours,  but  not  that  dog  I 
shall  throw  it  to. 

Cas.    Well,  I  must  leave  her  company. 
lago.    Before  me  !  look,  where  she  comes. 
Cas.    'Tis    such   another    fitchew  !  '^    marry,  a  perfumed 
one.  — 

Enter  Bianca. 

What  do  you  mean  by  this  haunting  of  me  ? 

Bian.  Let  the  Devil  and  his  dam  haunt  you  !  What  did 
you  mean  by  that  same  handkerchief  you  gave  me  even  now  ? 
I  was  a  fine  fool  to  take  it.  I  must  take  out  the  work  ?  A 
likely  piece  of  work,  that  you  should  find  it  in  your  chamber, 
and  not  know  who  left  it  there  !  This  is  some  minx's  token, 
and  I  must  take  out  the  work?  There  ;  give  it  your  hobby- 
horse :  wheresoever  you  had  it,  I'll  take  out  no  work  on't. 

Cas.    How  now,  my  sweet  Bianca  !  how  now  !  how  now  ! 

0th.  \^Aside.'\  By  Heaven,  that  should  be  my  handker- 
chief ! 

Bian.  An  you'll  come  to  supper  to-night,  you  may ;  an 
you  will  not,  come  when  you  are  next  prepared  for.      \_Exit. 

lago.    After  her,  after  her. 

Cas.    Faith,  I  must ;  she'll  rail  in  the  street  else. 

lago.    Will  you  sup  there  ? 

Cas.    Yes,  I  intend  so. 

lago.  Well,  I  may  chance  to  see  you  ;  for  I  would  very 
fain  speak  with  you. 

Cas.    Pr'ythee,  come  ;  will  you  ? 

lago.    Go  to  ;  say  no  more.  \^Exit  Cassio. 

0th.    \_Coming forward.']   How  shall  I  murder  him,  lago? 

lago.    Did  you  perceive  how  he  laugh'd  at  his  vice? 

0th.    O  lago  ! 

15  Fitchew  is  an  old  name  of  the  poiecaf.  —  .K/tc/i  another  was  a  common 
phrase,  meaningy//j/  like,  or  nearly  that. 


262  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV 

lago.    And  did  you  see  the  handkerchief? 

0th.    Was  that  mine  ? 

lago.  Yours,  by  this  hand  :  and  to  see  how  he  prizes  the 
fooUsh  woman  your  wife  !  she  gave  it  to  him,  and  he  hath 
given  it  his  whore. 

0th.  I  would  have  him  nine  years  a-kilhng.  A  fine  wo- 
man !  a  fair  woman !  a  sweet  woman  ! 

lago.    Nay,  you  must  forget  that. 

0th.  Ay,  let  her  rot,  and  perish,  and  be  damn'd  to-night ; 
for  she  shall  not  live  :  no,  my  heart  is  turn'd  to  stone  ;  I 
strike  it,  and  it  hurts  my  hand.  O,  the  world  hath  not  a 
sweeter  creature  :  she  might  lie  by  an  emperor's  side,  and 
command  him  tasks. 

lago.    Nay,  that's  not  your  way. 

Oth.  Hang  her  !  I  do  but  say  what  she  is  :  so  delicate 
with  her  needle  !  an  admirable  musician  :  O,  she  will  sing 
the  savageness  out  of  a  bear  !  of  so  high  and  plenteous  wit 
and  invention  ! 

lago.    She's  the  worse  for  all  this. 

Oth.  O,  a  thousand-thousand  times.  And  then,  of  so 
gentle  a  condition  !  "^ 

lago.    Ay,  too  gentle. 

Oth.  Nay,  that's  certain  :  but  yet  the  pity  of  it,  lago  ! 
O  lago,  the  pity  of  it,  lago  ! 

lago.  If  you  are  so  fond  over  her  ini(|uity,  give  her  patent 
to  offend  ; '"  for,  if  it  touch  not  you,  it  comes  near  nobody. 

Oth.    I  will  chop  her  into  messes  !  cuckold  me  ! 

lago.    O,  'tis  foul  in  her. 

Oth.    With  mine  officer  ! 

lago.    That's  fouler. 

Oth.    Get  me  some  poison,  lago;  this  night;  —  I'll  not 

16  Condition ,  again,  for  temper  or  disposition.     See  page  203,  note  29. 
1'  A  patent  is  an  open  letter  conferring  a  special  right  or  privilege ;  as  in 
the  coinnion  phrase,  patent-right.     See  vol.  x.  page  169,  note  26. 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  263 

expostulate  with  her,  lest  her  body  and  beauty  unprovide  my 
mind  again  ;  —  this  night,  lago. 

lago.    Do  it  not  with  poison  ;  strangle  licr  in  her  bed,  even 
the  bed  she  hath  contaminated. 

0th.    Good,  good  !  the  justice^ef  it  pleases  ;  v^ery  good  ! 

lago.    And  for  Cassio^-  lefme  be  his  undertaker :  '^  you  ^ 

shall  hear  more  by  midnight.  ic' "■'  ■  '^l  J^-^-^ 

Ofh.    Excellent-good  !    [.  /  trumpet  7L'itIii)i.']    What  trum- 
pet is  that  same  ? 

lago.    Something  from  Venice,  sure.     'Tis  Lodovico 
Come  from  the  Duke  ;  and,  see,  your  wife  is  with  him. 

Enter  Lodovico,  Desdemoxa,  and  Attendants. 

Lod.    God  save  the  worthy  general  ! 

Ot/i.  With  all  my  heart,  sir. 

Lod.    The  Duke  and  Senators  of  Venice  greet  you. 

\^Gi<'es  Iiim  a  packet. 

0th.    I  kiss  the  instrument  of  their  pleasures. 

\_Opens  the  packet,  atid  reads. 

Dcs.    And  what's  the  news,  good  cousin  Lodovico? 

lago.    I    am  very  glad   to   see  you,  signior  :    welcome  to 
Cyprus. 

Lod.    I  thank  you.     How  does  Lieutenant  Cassio  ? 

Lago.    Lives,  sir. 

Des.    Cousin,  there's  fall'n  between  him  and  my  lord 
An  unkind  breach  ;  but  you  shall  make  all  well. 

Oth.    Are  you  sure  of  that  ? 

Des.    M)-  lord  ? 

Oth.    [Reads.]     This  fail  you  not  to  do,  as  you  will — 

LAyd.    He  did  not  call ;   he's  busy  in  the  paper. 
Is  there  division  'twixt  my  lord  and  Cassio  ? 

Des.    A  most  unhappy  one  :   I  would  do  much 

18  "  I  will  iitidcrtakc,  ox  take  upon  me,  your  cause  against  him."     The  word 
was  used  of  those  who  volunteer  in  other  men's  quarrels. 


264  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

T'  atone  them,i^  for  the  love  I  bear  to  Cassio. 

0th.    Fire  and  brimstone  ! 

Des.  My  lord  ? 

Oih.  Are  you  wise? 

Des.    What,  is  he  angry? 

Lod.  May  be  the  letter  moved  him  ; 

For,  as  I  think,  they  do  command  him  home. 
Deputing  Cassio  in  his  government. 

Des.    Trust  me,  I  am  glad  on't. 

Oih.  Indeed ! 

Des.  My  lord  ? 

0th.    I  am  glad  to  see  you  mad. 

Des.  Why,  sweet  Othello  ! 

0th.    \_Striking  her.']    Devil  ! 

Des.    I  have  not  deserved  this. 

Lod.    My  lord,  this  would  not  be  believed  in  Venice, 
Though  I  should  swear  I  saw't :   'tis  very  much  : 
Make  her  amends  ;  she  weeps. 

0th.  O  devil,  devil  ! 

If  that  the  earth  could  teem  with  woman's  tears, 
Each  drop  she  falls  would  prove  a  crocodile.^^  — 
Out  of  my  sight  ! 

Des.  I  will  not  stay  t'  offend  you.  \_Going. 

Lod.    Truly,  an  obedient  lady  : 
I  do  beseech  your  lordship,  call  her  back. 

0th.    Mistress  ! 

1^  Ato?ie  in  its  old  sense  of  reconcile  or  at-one.     Repeatedly  so. 

"^^  Here,  as  often, /a//s  is  a  transitive  verb,  equivalent  to  lets  fall.  —  By  the 
doctrine  of  equivocal  generation  new  animals  were  supposed  producible  by 
new  combinations  of  matter.  Shakespeare  here  alludes  to  the  fabulous 
accounts  which  make  the  crocodile  the  most  deceitful  of  animals.  "  It  is 
written  that  he  will  weep  over  a  man's  head  when  he  hath  devoured  the 
body,  and  will  then  eat  up  the  head  too."  Wherefore  in  Latin  there  is  a 
proverb,  "  Crocodili  lachrymae,  crocodiles  teares,  to  signifie  such  teares  as 
are  feigned,  and  spent  only  with  intent  to  deceive  or  do  harm,"  —  BULLO- 
KAR'S  Expositor,  1616. 


SCENE  1.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  265 

Des.  My  lord  ? 

0th.  What  would  you  with  her,  sir? 

Lod.    Who,  I,  my  lord  ? 

0th.    Ay  ;  you  did  wish  that  I  would  make  her  turn. 
Sir,  she  can  turn,  and  turn,  and  yet  go  on, 
And  turn  again  ;  and  she  can  weep,  sir,  weep  ; 
And  she's  obedient,  as  you  say,  obedient. 
Very  obedient.  —  Proceed  you  in  your  tears.  — 
Concerning  this,  sir,  —  O  well-painted  ^1  passion  !  — 
I  am  commanded  home.  —  Get  you  away  ; 
I'll  send  for  you  anon.  — -Sir,  I  obey  the  mandate. 
And  will  return  to  Venice.  — ■  Hence,  avaunt  !  — 

\_Exit  Desdemona. 
Cassio  shall  have  my  place.     And,  sir,  to-night 
I  do  entreat  that  we  may  sup  together  : 
You're  welcome,  sir,  to  Cyprus.  —  Goats  and  monkeys  !  2- 

\^Exit. 

Lod.    Is  this  the  noble  Moor  whom  our  lull  Senate 
Call  all-in-all  sufficient?     Is  this  the  nature 
Whom  passion  could  not  shake  ?  whose  solid  virtue 
The  shot  of  accident,  nor  dart  of  chance. 
Could  neither  graze  nor  pierce  ? 

lago.  He  is  much  changed. 

Lod.    Are  his  wits  safe?  is  he  not  light  of  brain? 

lago.    He's  that  he  is  :   I  may  not  breathe  my  censure. 
What  he  might  l)e,  —  if  what  he  might  he  is  not,  — 
I  would  to  Heaven  he  were  ! 

Lod.  What,  strike  his  wife  ! 

21  Painted  for  counterfeited  or  simulated.  Conversely,  we  liave,  else- 
where, counterfeit  ^ox  picture,  or  \vh;it  is  painted. 

22  In  a  previous  scene,  when  Othello  demands  "  ocular  jiroof,"  latjo  tells 
him  it  were  impossible  to  have  this,  "  were  they  as  prime  as  goats,  as  hot 
as  monkeys."  Now  that  Othello  is  fully  convinced  of  Desdemona's  guilt, 
these  words  seem  to  be  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  exploding  involuntarily  from 
his  lips. 


266  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV, 

lago.    Faith,  that  was  not  so  well ;  yet  would  I  knew 
"^^       That  stroke  would  prove  the  worst  ! 
^  Lod.  Is  it  his  use  ? 

V        Or  did  the  letters  work  upon  his  blood, 
^'       And  new-create  this  fault? 
4  I<-^go.  Alas,  alas  ! 

"^  It  is  not  honesty  -^  in  me  to  speak 

What  I  have  seen  and  known.     You  shall  observe  him  ; 
And  his  own  courses  will  denote  him  so, 
That  I  may  save  my  speech  :   do  but  go  after. 
And  mark  how  he  continues. 

Lod.    I'm  sorry  that  I  am  deceived  in  him.  {^Exeunt. 

Scene  II.  —  A  Room  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  Othello  and  E^milia. 

0th.   You  have  seen  nothing,  then  ? 

Emil.    Nor  ever  heard,  nor  ever  did  suspect. 

0th.    Yes,  you  have  seen  Cassio  and  she  together. 

Eniil.    But  then  I  saw  no  harm,  and  then  I  heard 
Each  syllable  that  breath  made  up  between  them. 

0th.    What,  did  they  never  whisper? 

Eniil.  Never,  my  lord. 

Otli.    Nor  send  you  out  o'  the  way  ? 

Eniil.    Never. 

0th.    To  fetch  her  fan,  her  gloves,  her  mask,  nor  nothing? 

Emil.    Never,  my  lord. 

0th.   That's  strange. 

Emil.    I  durst,  my  lord,  to  wager  she  is  honest. 
Lay  down  my  soul  at  stake  :   if  you  think  other. 
Remove  your  thought ;  it  doth  abuse  your  bosom. 

23  Honesty,  as  also  honest,  was  sometimes  used  in  the  exact  sense  of  hon- 
ourable. And  such  is  clearly  the  meaning  here.  See,  also,  v.  2,  note  17,  of 
this  play,  for  instance  of  a  like  usage. 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  26/ 

If  any  wretch  have  put  this  in  your  head, 
Let  Heaven  requite  it  witli  the  serpent's  curse  ! 
For,  if  she  be  not  honest,  chaste,  and  true. 
There's  no  man  happy ;   the  purest  of  their  wives 
Is  foul  as  slander. 

Oth.  Bid  her  come  hitlier  ;  go.  —  \^Exit  Emilia. 

She  says  enough  ;  yet  she's  a  simple  bawd 
That  cannot  say  as  much.     This  is  a  subtle  whore, 
A  closet-lock-and-key  of  villainous  secrets  : 
And  yet  she'll  kneel  and  pray ;   I've  seen  her  do't. 

Enter  Desdemona  with  Emilia. 

Des.    My  lord,  what  is  your  will  ? 

Otli.  Pray,  chuck,  come  hither. 

Des.    What  is  your  pleasure  ? 

OtJi.  Let  me  see  your  eyes  ; 

Look  in  my  face. 

Des.  What  horrible  fancy's  this? 

Oth.    [71?  Emilia.]    Some  of  your  function,  mistress  ; 
Leave  procreants  alone  and  shut  the  door ; 
Cough,  or  cry  hem,  if  anybody  come  : 
Your  mystery,  your  mystery  ;  nay,  dispatch.'     \_Exit  Emilia. 

Des.    Upon  my  knees,  what  doth  your  speech  import  ? 
I  understand  a  fury  in  your  wortls. 
But  not  the  words. 

Oth.    Why,  what  art  thou  ? 

Des.  Your  wife,  my  lord  ;  your  true 

And  loyal  wife. 

Oth.  Come,  swear  it,  damn  thyself; 

Lest,  being  like  one  of  Heaven,  the  devils  themselves 
Should  fear  to  seize  thee  :   therefore  be  double-damn 'd  ; 

1  As  in  mere  wantonness  of  self-torture,  Otliello  here  fondles  the  most 
agonizing  conceptions,  and  seeks  a  morbid  relief  in  thinking  of  Emilia  as 
doing  the  office  or  mystery  of  a  procuress.     A  master-stroke  of  delineation. 


268  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

Swear  thou  art  honest.- 

Des.  Heaven  doth  truly  know  it. 

0th.    Heaven  truly  knows  that  thou  art  false  as  Hell. 

Des.    To  whom,  my  lord  ?  with  whom  ?  how  am  I  false  ? 

Otli.    Ah,  Desdemon  !  away  !  away  !  away  ! 

Des.    Alas  the  heavy  day  !     Why  do  you  weep  ? 
Am  I  the  motive  ^  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. 

0th.  Had  it  pleased  Heaven 

To  try  me  with  affliction  ;  had  He  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  place  of  my  soul 
A  drop  of  patience  :   but,  alas,  to  make  me 
A  fixed  figure  for  the  time  of  scorn 
To  point  his  slow  unmoving  finger  at  !  ^ 
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, 

2  That  is,  by  adding  the  crime  of  perjury  to  that  of  adultery  :  "  Accumu- 
late sin  upon  sin,  lest,  being  like  an  angel,  you  so  strike  the  fiends  with  awe, 
that  they  will  not  dare  to  touch  you." 

■^  Shakespeare  uses  motive  repeatedly  in  tlie  sense  of  cause  or  mover. 

4  Much  has  been  written  upon  this  celebrated  passage,  which  has  been 
thought  to  be  very  obscure,  if  not  absurdly  at  odds  with  itself;  but  it  seems 
to  me  all  right.  "  The  time  of  scorn  "  means,  I  think,  the  age  of  scorn,  that 
is,  the  whole  period  during  which  scorn  may  be  said  to  live.  The  "  fixed 
figure"  is  simply  the  speaker  himself  As  to  "slow  unmoving,"  the  sense 
of  it  can  be  better  felt  than  expressed :  we  can  see  the  sneer  darting  from 
the  inexorable  finger,  ever  slowly  moving  with  the  object,  never  moving 
from  it. 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  269 

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  cherubin. 

Ay,  there,  look  grim  as  Hell ! 

Des.    I  hope  my  noble  lord  esteems  me  honest. 

0th.    O,  ay ;  as  summer  flies  are  in  the  shambles, 
That  quicken  even  with  blowing.     O  thou  weed. 
Who  art  so  lovely  fair,  and  smell'st  so  sweet, 
That  the  sense  aches  at  thee,  would  thou  hadst  ne'er  been  born  ! 

Dcs.    Alas,  what  ignorant  sin  have  I  committed? 

0th.    Was  this  fair  paper,  this  most  goodly  book. 
Made  to  write  whore  upon  ?     A\'hat  committed  ! 
Committed  !     O  thou  public  commoner  ! 
I  should  make  very  forges  of  my  cheeks. 
That  would  to  cinders  burn  up  modesty. 
Did  I  but  speak  thy  deeds.     What  committed  ! 
Heaven  stops  the  nose  at  it,  and  the  Moon  winks ; 
The  bawdy  wind,  that  kisses  all  it  meets. 
Is  hush'd  within  the  hollow  mine  of  earth, 
And  will  not  hear  it.     What  committed  ! 
Impudent  strumpet  ! 

Des.  By  Heaven,  you  do  me  wrong. 

0th.    Are  not  you  a  strumpet  ? 

Des.  No,  as  I  am  a  Christian  : 

If  to  preserve  this  vessel  for  my  lord 
From  any  other  foul  unlawful  touch, 
Be  not  to  be  a  strumpet,  I  am  none.  \  fc^ 

0th.    What,  not  a  whore  ? 

Des.  No,  as  I  shall  be  saved. 

0th.    Is't  possible  ? 

Des.    O,  Heaven  forgive  us  ! 

0th.  I  cry  you  mercy,''  then  : 

6  "  I  cry  you  murcy  "  is  an  old  phrase  for  "  I  ask  your  pardon." 


2/0  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

I  took  you  for  that  cunning  whore  of  Venice 
That  married  with  Othello.  —  You,  mistress. 
That  have  the  office  opposite  to  Saint  Peter, *^ 
And  keep  the  gate  of  Hell ! 

Re-enter  Emilia. 

You,  you,  ay,  you  ! 
We've  done  our  course  ;  there's  money  for  your  pains  :  "^ 
I  pray  you,  turn  the  key,  and  keep  our  counsel.  \_Exit. 

Emil.    Alas,  what  does  this  gentleman  conceive? 
How  do  you,  madam?  how  do  you,  my  good  lady? 

Des.    Faith,  half  asleep. 

Emil.    Good  madam,  what's  the  matter  with  my  lord? 

Des.    With  who? 

Emil.    Why,  with  my  lord,  madam. 

Des.    Who  is  thy  lord  ? 

Emil.  He  that  is  yours,  sweet  lady. 

Des.    I  have  none  :  do  not  talk  to  me,  Emilia ; 
I  cannot  weep  ;  nor  answer  have  I  none,     __  /J-Ot-^ 
But  what  should  go  by  wat^i\^     Pr'ythee,  to-night 
Lay  on  my  bed  my  wedding  sheets  :  remember ; 
And  call  thy  husband  hither. 

G  The  office  opposed  to  Saint  Peter ;  alluding,  evidently,  to  "  the  power  of 
the  keys,"  which  was  given  to  the  Apostles  generally,  and  especially  to  Saint 
Peter  as  representing  them ;  so  that  the  opposition  is  between  Emilia  as 
keeper  of  the  gate  of  Hell,  and  Saint  Peter  as  keeper  of  the  gate  of  Heaven. 
The  sense,  therefore,  requires  that  the  special  emphasis,  if  there  be  any, 
should  be  laid  on  opposite. 

"^  Othello,  who  in  his  relations  towards  women  is  one  of  the  most  delicate 
and  sensitive  of  men,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul  pays  his  wife's  own  maid 
as  he  leaves  the  former's  bed-chamber ;  not  either  to  reward  or  to  offend 
Emilia,  but  that  he  may  torment  his  own  soul  by  carrying  out  his  supposi- 
tion to  its  most  revolting  consequences.  —  WHITE. 

**  Go  by  water  means,  of  course,  be  expressed  by  tears.  Surely  a  conceit 
quite  out  of  place.  Laertes,  in  Hamlet,  iv.  4,  vents  a  similar  one  on  learn- 
ing that  his  sister  is  drowned  :  "  Too  much  of  water  hast  thou,  poor  Ophelia, 
and  therefore  I  forbid  my  tears." 


SCENE  II.  THK    MOOR    OF    VKXIC2.  2/1 

Emil.  Here's  a  change  indeed  !     \_Exii. 

Des.    'Tis  meet  I  should  be  used  so,  very  meet. 
How  have  I  been  behaved,  that  he  might  stick 
The  small'st  opinion  on  my  great'st  abuse  ?  '-^ 

Re-enter  Emilla  with  Iago. 

lago.    What  is  your  pleasure,  madam  ?    How  is't  with  you  ? 

Des.   I  cannot  tell.     Those  that  do  teach  young  babes  1  (^.t- 

Do  it  with  gentle  means  and  easy  tasks  : 
He  might  have  chid  me  so ;  for,  in  good  faith, 
I  am  a  child  to  chiding. 

Iago.  What's  the  matter,  lady? 

Eviil.    Alas,  Iago,  my  lord  hath  so  bewhored  her, 
Thrown  such  despite  and  heavy  terms  upon  her. 
As  true  hearts  cannot  bear. 

Des.    Am  I  that  name,  Iago? 

Iago.  What  name,  fair  lady  ? 

Des.    Such  as  she  says  my  lord  ditl  say  I  was. 

Emil.    He  call'd  her  whore  :  a  beggar  in  his  drink 
Could  not  have  laid  such  terms  upon  his  callet.^" 

Iago.    Why  did  he  so? 

Des.    I  do  not  know  ;  I'm  sure  I  am  none  such. 

Iago.    Do  not  weep,  do  not  weep.     Alas  the  day  ! 

Eviil.    Hath  she  forsook  so  many  noble  matches, 
Her  father,  and  her  country,  and  her  friends, 
To  be  call'd  whore  ?  would  it  not  make  one  weep  ? 

Des.    It  is  my  wretched  fortune. 

Iago.  lieshrcw  him  for't  ! 

How  comes  this  trick  ui)on  him? 

'J  A  very  harsh  and  awkward  expression  ;  but  meaning,  "  What  liavc  I 
h(!en  doing,  that  upon  my  worst  act  he  should  fasten  the  ^lightest  imputa- 
tion of  crime?  " 

1"  6tf//tf/ seems  to  havi;  been  used  for  v/.f^;/ or  Jt4^/</.  So  in  The  Whiter  s 
Tale  :  "A  (ullet  of  boundless  tongue,  who  late  hath  beat  her  husband,  and 
now  baits  me." 


272  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

Des.  Nay,  Heaven  doth  know. 

Emil.    I  will  be  hang'd,  if  some  eternal^ ^  villain, 
Some  busy  and  insinuating  rogue, 
Some  cogging,  cozening  slave,  to  get  some  ofifice, 
Have  not  devised  this  slander ;  I'll  be  hang'd  else. 

lago.    Fie,  there's  no  such  man  ;   'tis  impossible. 

Des.    If  any  such  there  be.  Heaven  pardon  him  ! 

Emil.    .A.  halter  pardon  him  !  and  Hell  gnaw  his  bones  ! 
Why  should  he  call  her  whore?  who  keeps  her  company? 
What  place  ?  what  time  ?  what  form  ?  what  likelihood  ? 
The  Moor's  abused  by  some  most  villainous  knave, 
Some  base  notorious  '-  knave,  some  scurvy  fellow.  — 

0  Heaven,  that  such  companions  ^"^  Thou'dst  unfold, 

And  put  in  every  honest  hand  a  whip  1  '\ 

To  lash  the  rascals  naked  through  the  world 
Even  from  the  East  to  th'  West  ! 

lago.  Speak  within  door.^'* 

Emil.    O,  fie  upon  them  !     Some  such  squire  he  was 
That  turn'd  your  wit  the  seamy  side  without. 
And  made  you  to  suspect  me  with  the  Moor. 

lago.    You  are  a  fool ;  go  to. 

Des.  Alas,  lago, 

What  shall  I  do  to  win  my  lord  again? 
Good  friend,  go  to  him  ;  for,  by  this  light  of  heaven, 

1  know  not  how  I  lost  him.     Here  I  kneel : 
If  e'er  my  will  did  trespass  'gainst  his  love, 
Either  in  discourse,  or  thought,  or  actual  deed  ; 
Or  that  mine  eyes,  mine  ears,  or  any  sense. 
Delighted  them  in  any  other  form  ; 

11  Eternal,  apparently,  for  in/fmal.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  19,  note  37. 

12  Notorious  seems  to  be  here  put  for  outrageous.     Or  it  may  mean  de- 
serving to  be  noted,  or  branded  with  infamy. 

13  Companion  was  often  used  in  scorn,  just  ■as  fellow  is  nov/. 
i"*  Do  not  clamour  so  as  to  be  heard  beyond  the  house. 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  2/3 

Or  that  I  do  not  yet,  and  ever  did, 

And  ever  will  —  though  he  do  shake  me  off 

To  beggarly  divorcement  —  love  him  dearly, 

Comfort  forswear  me  !     Unkindness  may  do  much  ; 

And  his  unkindness  may  defeat  my  life. 

But  never  taint  my  love.     I  cannot  say  ivhore  : 

It  does  abhor  me  '^  now  I  speak  the  word  ; 

To  do  the  act  that  might  th'  addition  earn 

Not  the  world's  mass  of  vanity  could  make  me. 

/ago.    I  pray  you,  be  content ;  'tis  but  his  humour  : 
The  business  of  the  State  does  him  offence. 
And  he  does  chide  with  you-^** 

Des.    If  'twere  no  other,  — 

/ago.  'Tis  but  so,  I  warrant.    \^Tni)iipcts  within. 

Hark,  how  these  instruments  summon  to  supper  ! 
The  messengers  of  Venice  stay  the  meat : 
Go  in,  and  weep  not ;  all  things  shall  be  well.  — 

\_Exetnit  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 

Enter  Rouerigo. 

How  now,  Roderigo  ! 

Rod.    I  do  not  find  that  thou  deal'st  justly  with  me. 

/ago.    What  in  the  contrary? 

Rod.  I'^ery  day  thou  daff'st  ''^  me  with  some  device, 
lago  ;  and  rather,  as  it  seems  to  me  now.  keep'st  from  me 
all  conveniciiry  llian  suppliest  nie  with  the  least  advantage 
of  hope.      I   will,   indeed,    no    longer   endure    it  ;    nor   am    I 

J*  That  is,  "  it  docs  offend  mu,"  or  "  it  is  abliomnt  t,>  mc,"  or  "  I  abhor  it." 
So  tht:  I'oct  often  lias  the  plirase  "  it  likes  me  "  for  "  it  pleases  me,"  or  "/  like 
it."     See  vol.  xii.  page  169,  note  22. 

16  This  was  the  phraseology  of  the  time.  "  Tcj  ciimplaine,  to  make  a 
quarrel,  io  chide  with  one  for  a  thing.  ICxpostulare  et  queri."  —  15AKl';r. 
So  in  the  Poet's  iiith  .Sonnet :  "  O,  for  my  sake  do  you  loith  fortuni!  chide." 

•"  Daff  is  but  another  form  of  doff,  and  means  to  do  off  or  put  off.  Shake- 
speare uses  the  word  in  both  fnrms.     See  vol.  iv.  page  192,  note  9. 


274  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

yet  persuaded  to  put  up  in  peace  what  already  I  have  fool- 
ishly sufler'd. 

lago.    Will  you  hear  me,  Roderigo  ? 

Rod.    Faith,  I  have  heard  too  much;  for  your  words  and 
performances  are  no  kin  together. 
lago.    You  charge  me  most  unjustly. 

Rod.    With  nouglit  but  truth.     I  have  wasted  myself  out 

of  my  means.     The  jewels  you  have  had  from  me  to  deliver 

to  Desdemona  would  half  have   corrupted  a  votarist :    you 

^      have  told  me  she  hath  received  them,  and  return'd  me  ex- 

--^      pectations  and  comforts   of  sudden  respect   and   acquaint- 

^'  '    ance  ;  but  I  find  none. 

"^'  lago.    Well ;  go  to  ;  very  well. 

Rod.    Very  well  !  go  to  !    I  cannot  go  to,  man  ;  nor  'tis  not 
:;      very  well :  nay,  I  think  it  is  scurvy,  and  begin  to  find  myself 

1 fopp'd  1^  in  it. 

lago.    Very  well. 

Rod.    I  tell  you  'tis  not  very  well.     I  will  make  myself 
known  to  Desdemona :   if  she  will  return  me  my  jewels,  I 
will  give  over  my  suit,  and  repent  my  unlawful  solicitation  ; 
if  not,  assure  yourself  I  will  seek  satisfaction  of  you. 
lago.    You  have  said  now. 

Rod.  Ay,  and  said  nothing  but  what  I  protest  intendment 
of  doing. 

lago.  Why,  now  I  see  there's  mettle  in  thee  ;  and  even 
from  this  instant  do  build  on  thee  a  better  opinion  than  ever 
before.  Give  me  thy  hand,  Roderigo :  thou  hast  taken 
against  me  a  most  just  exception  ;  but  yet,  I  protest,  I  have 
dealt  mo^,..  directly  in  thy  affair. 

1**  The  \NoxA  fopped  does  not  occur  again  in  Shakespeare,  nor  do  I  re- 
member to  have  met  with  it  elsewhere.  Probably  it  means  made  a  fool  of. 
(Rowley,  in  his  Cutter  of  Coleman  Street,  1633,  uses  foppity  for  simpleton  : 
"  Why  does  this  little  foppifee  laugh  always  ?  'tis  such  a  ninny,  that  she 
betrays  her  mistris,  and  thinks  she  does  no  hurt  at  all,  no,  not  she." 


^//^ 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  2/5 

RoiL    It  hath  not  appcarVl. 

lago.  I  grant,  indeed,  it  hath  not  appear'd ;  and  your 
suspicion  is  not  without  wit  and  judgment.i^  But,  Roderigo, 
if  thou  hast  that  in  thee  indeed,  which  I  have  greater  reason 
to  beheve  now  than  ever,  —  I  mean  purpose,  courage,  and 
valour,  —  this  night  show  it :  if  thou  the  next  night  following 
enjoy  not  Desdemona,  take  me  from  this  world  with  treach- 
ery, and  devise  engines  for  my  life. 

Rod.    Well,  what  is  it?  is  it  within  reason  and  compass? 

lago.  Sir,  there  is  especial  commission  come  from  Venice 
to  depute  Cassio  in  Othello's  place. 

Rod.  Is  that  true?  why,  then  Othello  and  Desdemona 
return  again  to  Venice.         ..     -  , 

lago.  O,  no  :  he  go^s  into  Mauritania,  and  takes  away 
with  him  the  fair  Desdemona,-"  unless  his  abode  be  linger'd 
here  by  some  accident ;  wherein  none  can  be  so  determinate 
as  the  removing  of  Cassio. 

Rod.    How  do  you  mean,  removing  of  him? 

lago.  Why,  by  making  him  uncapable  of  Othello's  place ; 
knocking  out  his  brains. 

Rod.    And  that  you  would  have  me  to  do  ? 

lago.  Ay,  if  you  dare  do  yourself  a  profit  and  a  right. 
He  sups  to-night  with  a  harlotry,  and  thither  will  I  go  to 
him  :  he  knows  not  yet  of  his  honoural)le  fortune.  If  you 
will  watch  his  going  thence,  —  which  I  will  fashion  to  fall 


1"  Shakespeare  knew  well,  that  most  men  like  to  be  flattered  on  account 
of  those  endowments  in  which  they  are  most  deficient.  Hence  lago's  com- 
pliment to  this  snipe  on  his  sagacity  and  shrewdness.  —  Mai.one. 

'■^  This  passage  proves,  so  far  as  any  thing  said  by  lago  may  be  believed, 
that  Othello  was  not  meant  to  be  a  Negro,  as  has  been  represented,  both  on 
the  stage  and  off,  but  a  verital)le  Moor.  His  kindred,  the  Mauritanians, — 
from  whose  "  men  of  royal  siege  he  fetched  his  life  and  being,"  and  among 
whom  he  was  about  (o  retire,  —  though  apt  enough  to  be  confounded  with 
the  Negroes,  were  as  different  from  them,  externally,  as  brown  is  from  black ; 
internally,  in  mind  and  character,  the  difference  was  far  greater. 


NX 


276  OTHELLO, 

out  between  twelve  and  one,  —  you  may  take  him  at  your 
pleasure  :  I  will  be  near  to  second  your  attempt,  and  he  shall 
fall  between  us.  Come,  stand  not  atnsKed  at  it,-i  but  go 
along  with  me  ;  I  will  show  you  such  a  necessity  in  his  death, 
that  you  shall  think  yourseU"  bound  to  put  it  on  him.  It  is 
now  high  supper-time,  and  the  night  grows  to  waste  :  about 
it. 

Rod.    I  will  hear  further  reason  for  this. 

Icigo.    And  you  shall  be  satisfied.  \_ExeHnt. 

Scene   III.  —  Another  Room  in  the  Castle. 

Enter  Othello,  Lodovico,  Desdemona,  Emilia,  a^id  Atten- 
dants. 

Lod.    I  do  beseech  you,  sir,  trouble  yourself  no  further. 

Oth.    O,  pardon  me  ;   'twill  do  me  good  to  walk. 

Lod.    Madam,  good  night ;   I  humbly  thank  your  ladyship. 

Des.    Your  Honour  is  most  welcome. 

Oth.    Will  you  walk,  sir? —  O,  Desdemona, — 

Des.    My  lord  ? 

Oth.  Get  you  to  bed  on  the  instant ;  I  will  be  return'd 
forthwith  :   dismiss  your  attendant  there  ;  look't  be  done. 

Des.    I  will,  my  lord. 

\_Exeunt  Othello,  Lodovico,  and  Attendants. 

Emil.    How  goes  it  now?  he  looks  gentler  than  he  did.i 

Des.    He  says  he  will  return  incontinent :  ^  :  'rtitM 

He  hath  commanded  me  to  go  to  bed,  ,    ,-  ■■    '^ 

And  bade  me  to  dismiss  you. 

21  Amazed,  in  its  primitive  sense  of  being  in  a  maze  ;  that  is,  bewildered  or 
perplexed.    Such  is  the  more  common  meaning  of  the  word  in  Shakespeare. 

1  One  of  those  side  intimations  of  the  fluctuations  of  passion,  which  we 
seldom  meet  with  but  in  Sliakespeare.  He  has  here  put  into  half  a  line  what 
some  authors  would  have  spun  out  into  ten  set  speeches.  —  HAZLITT. 

2  Incontinent  for  incontinertly,  and  in  its  old  sense  of  immediately  or 
forthwith.     See  vol.  v.  page  100,  note  3. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  2/7 

Emil.  Dismiss  me  ! 

Des.    It  was  his  bidding  ;  therefore,  good  Emilia, 
Give  me  my  niglitly  wearing,  and  adieu  : 
We  must  not  now  displease  him. 

Emil.    I  would  you  had  never  seen  him  ! 

Des.   So  would  not  I :  my  love  doth  so  approve  him, 
That  even  his  stubborness,  his  checks,  his  frowns,  — 
Pr'ythee,  unpin  me, — have  grace  and  favour  in  tliem. 

Emil.    I've  laid  those  sheets  you  bade  me  on  the  bed. 

Des.    All's  one.     Good  faith,  how  foolish  are  our  minds  ! 
If  I  do  die  before  thee,  pr'ythee,  shroud  me 
In  one  of  those  same  sheets. 

Emil.  Come,  come,  you  talk. 

Di's.    My  mothrr  had  a  maid  call'd  Barbara : 
She  was  in  love  ;  and  he  she  loved  proved  mad,-^ 
And  did  forsake  her:  she  had  a  song  oiruithnv ; 
An  old  tiling  'twas,  but  it  express'd  her  fortune, 
.Xnd  she  died  singing  it.    That  song  to-night 
Will  not  go  from  my  mind  ;   I've  much  to-do,^ 
Not  to  go  hang  my  head  all  at  one  side. 
And  sing  it  like  poor  Barbara.      Pr'ythee,  dispatch. 

Emil.    Shall  I  go  fetch  your  night-gown? 

Des.  No,  unpin  me  here. 

This  Lodovico  is  a  proper''  man. 

Emil.    .'\  very  handsome  man. 

Des.    He  speaks  well. 

Emil.    I  know  a  lady  in  Venice  would  have  walk'd  bare- 
foot to  Palestine  for  a  touch  of  his  nether  lip. 

Des.    [Sings.] 

The  poor  soul  sat  sighing  by  a  sycamore  tree, 

8  Probably  meaning  mad  in  the  sense  oi  crazy  ;  pcrliaps.  i.i{  fickle. 
^  To-do,  again,  for  ado.     Sec  page  226,  note  6. 
6  Proper,  as  usual,  for  handsome  ox  fine-looking. 


2/8  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

Slug  all  a  green  willow  ; 
Her  hand  on  her  bosom,  her  head  on  her  knee, 

Sing  willow,  willow,  luillow  : 
The  fresh  streams  ran  by  her,  and  /ni/rnii/r''d  her  moans  ; 

Sing  willow,  willojv,  willow  ; 
Her  salt  tears  fell  from  her,  and  soften' d  the  stones  ;  — 

Lay  by  these  ;  — 

[Sings.]    Sing  willow,  willow,  willow  ; — - 

Pr'ythee,  hie  thee  ;  he'll  come  anon  :  — 

[Sings.]    Sing  all  a  green  wilhnv  must  be  mv  garland. 

Let  nobody  blame  him  ;  his  scorn  I  approve,  — 

Nay,  that's  not  next.     Hark  !  who  is't  that  knocks? 
Emit.    It's  the  wind. 
Des.    [Sings.] 

/  calPd  my  love  false  love  ;  but  wliat  said  he  then  ? 

Sing  willow,  wilUno,  tvillow  • 
If  I  court  more  women.,  you'' II  couch  laith  more  men.^  — 

6  These  lines  are  from  an  old  ballad  entitled  "  A  Lover's  Complaint,  being 
forsaken  of  his  Love."  The  ballad  is  given  entire  in  Percy's  Reliques.  It 
is  there  the  lament  of  a  man  :  Shakespeare  adapted  it  to  the  sex  of  "  pool 
Barbara."     I  subjoin  the  stanzas  from  which  he  borrowed : 

A  pnore  soule  sat  sighing  under  a  sicamore  tree; 

O  willow,  willow,  willow! 
With  his  hand  on  his  bosom,  his  head  on  his  knee: 

O  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 
Sing,  O  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

The  cold  streams  ran  by  him,  his  eyes  wept  apace ; 

O  willow,  willow,  willow! 
The  salt  tears  fell  from  him,  which  drowned  his  face: 

O  willow,  willow,  willow ! 
Sing,  O  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 

The  mute  birds  sat  by  him,  made  tame  by  his  mones ; 

O  willow,  willow,  willow! 
The  salt  tears  fell  from  him,  which  soften'd  the  stones: 

O  willow,  willow,  willow  ! 
Sing,  O  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland. 


SCENE  III.  THE    MOOR    OE    VENICE,  2/9 

So,  get  thee  gone  ;  good  night.     Mine  eyes  do  itch  ; 
Doth  that  bode  weeping? 

Emit.  'Tis  neither  here  nor  there. 

Dcs.    I've  heard  it  said  so.     O,  these  men,  these  men  ! 
Dost  thou  in  conscience  think, —  tell  me,  Emilia, — 
That  there  be  women  do  abuse  their  husbands 
In  such  gross  kind? 

Emil.  There  be  some  such,  no  question. 

Des.    Wouldst  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the  world  ? 

Einil.    Why,  would  not  you  ? 

Des.  No,  by  this  heavenly  light  ! 

Emil.  Nor  I  neither  by  this  heavenly  light ;  I  might  do't 
as  well  i'  the  dark. 

Des.    Wouldst  thou  do  sucii  a  deed  for  all  the  world  ? 

Emil.    'I'he  world's  a  iiuge  thing : 

//  is  a  i^^rcat  price  for  a  small  vice. 

Dcs.    In  troth,  I  think  thou  wouldst  not. 

Emil.  In  troth,  I  think  I  should  ;  and  undo'l  wlien  I  had 
done.  Marry,  I  would  not  do  such  a  thing  for  a  joint-ring," 
nor  for  measures  of  lawn,  nor  for  gowns,  petticoats,  nor  caps, 

Let  nobody  blnmc  me,  her  scornes  I  do  prove ; 

O  willow,  willow,  willow! 
She  was  borne  to  be  fairc  ;   I  to  die  for  her  love: 

O  willow,  willow,  willow! 
Sing,  O  the  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland 

''  A  joint-rinj^  was  anciently  a  token  f)f  troth-plight  between  lovers,  like 
the  piece  of  broken  tjokl  in  the  liridc  of  I.ammcrinoor.  Dryden  has  a  minute 
description  of  it  in  his  Don  Scha^tnin  : 

A  curious  artist  wrought  them 
With  joints  so  close  ns  not  to  l>e  perceived. 
Yet  they  are  lioth  each  other's  counterpart  : 
Her  part  had  Ju.an  inscribed,  and  his  h.ad  Zayda, 
(You  know  these  names  arc  theirs,)  and  in  the  midst 
A  heart  divided  in  two  halves  was  placed. 
Now,  if  the  rivets  of  those  rings  enclosed 
Fit  not  each  other,  I  have  forced  this  lie; 
But,  if  they  join,  you  must  for  ever  part. 


28o  }^  OTHELLO,  act  iv. 

nor  any  petty  exhibition  ;^  but,  for  the  whole  world,  —  why, 
who  would  not  make  her  husband  a  cuckold  to  make  him  a 
monarch  ?     I  should  venture  Purgatory  for't. 

Des.  Beshrew  me,  if  I  would  do  such  a  wrong  for  the 
whole  world. 

£/ui/.  Why,  the  wrong  is  but  a  wrong  i'  the  world  ;  and, 
having  the  world  for  your  labour,  'tis  a  wrong  in  your  own 
world,  and  you  might  quickly  make  it  right. 

Des.    I  do  not  think  there  is  any  such  woman. 

Emil.    Yes,  a  dozen  ;    and  as  many  to  the   vantage  ^  as 
would  store  the  world  they  play'd  for. 
But  I  do  think  it  is  their  husbands'  faults 
If  wives  do  fall :   say  that  they  slack  their  duties, 
And  pour  our  treasures  into  foreign  laps  ; 
Or  else  break  out  in  peevish  jealousies. 
Throwing  restraint  upon  us ;  or  say  they  strike  us. 
Or  scant  our  former  havirtg  '^^  in  despite  ; 
Why,  we  have  galls ;  and  though  we  have  some  grace. 
Yet  have  we  some  revenge.     Let  husbands  know 
Their  wives  have  sense  ^'  like  them  :  tliey  see,  and  smell. 
And  have  their  palates  both  for  sweet  and  sour. 
As  husbands  have.     What  is  it  that  they  do 
When  they  change  us  for  others  ?     Is  it  sport  ? 
I  think  it  is  :  and  doth  affection  breed  it? 
I  think  it  doth  :  is't  frailty  that  thus  errs  ? 
It  is  so  too  :  and  have  not  we  affections. 
Desires  for  sport,  and  frailty,  as  men  have  ? 
Then  let  them  use  us  well ;  else  let  them  know. 
The  ills  we  do,  their  ills  instruct  us  so. 

Dcs.  Good  night,  good  night :  Heaven  me  such  uses  send, 
Not  to  pick  bad  from  bad,  but  by  bad  mend  !  \_Exeunt. 

8  Exhibition,  again,  in  its  old  sense  oi  allowance.     See  page  185,  note  27. 

9  To  the  vantage  is  the  same  as  to  boot,  or  into  the  bargain. 

1*  Having  for  allotment  or  supply  of  money.     See  vol.  vi.  page  59,  note  4. 
11  ISense  is  here  put  iov  feeling  or  sensation ;  like  the  Latin  sensus. 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  28 1 


ACT  V. 

Scene  I.  —  Cyprus.     A  Street. 
Enter  Iago  and  Roderigo. 

lago.    Here,  stand  behind   this   bulk ;  i    straight  will   he 
come  : 
Wear  thy  good  rapier  bare,  and  put  it  home  : 
Quick,  (juick;  fear  nothing  ;   I'll  be  at  thy  elbow. 
It  makes  us,  or  it  mars  us  ;  think  on  that, 
And  fix  most  firm  thy  resolution. 

Rod.    Be  11  ar  at  hand  ;   I  may  miscarry  in't. 

lago.    Here,  at  thy  hand  :  be  bold,  and  take  thy  stand. 

\^Retires  to  a  little  distance. 

Rod.    I  have  no  great  devotion  to  the  deed  ; 
And  yet  he  hath  given  me  satisfying  reasons  : 
'  Tis  but  a  man  gone.     Forth,  my  sword  !  he  dies, 

\_Gors  to  his  stand 

lago.    I've  rubb'd  this  young  quat-  almost  to  the  sense, 
And  he  grows  angry.     Now,  whether  lie  kill  Cassio, 
Or  Cassio  him,  or  each  do  kill  the  other, 
Every  way  makes  my  gain      Live  Roderigo, 
He  calls  me  to  a  restitution  large 
Of  gold  and  jewels  that  I  bobb'd^  from  him. 
As  gifts  to  Desdemona  ; 
It  must  not  be  :  if  Cassio  do  remain, 
He  hath  a  daily  beauty  in  his  life 

'  Hulk  is  a  kind  of  stall,  board,  or  counter  outside  ot  a  house,  on  which 
articles  were  set  for  sale.     So  Florio  :  "  Ralcone,  a  bulke  or  stall  o/ri  shop." 

2  A  quat  was,  in  provincial  usage,  a.  pimple,  which  by  rubbing  is  made  to 
smart.  Roderigo  is  so  called  for  the  same  reason  that  a  low  fellow  is  some- 
times called  a  scab.     Rubbing  to  the  sen^i-  is  nibbini;  to  the  quick. 

*  Fooled  him  out  of.    To  bob  is  to  cheat  or  swindle  by  craft  of  tongue. 


t 


282  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

That  makes  me  ugly ;  and,  besides,  the  Moor 

May  unfold  me  to  him ;  tlicre  stand  I  in  much  peril. 

No,  he  must  die  :  be't  so  ;   I  hear  him  coming. 

Enter  Cassio. 

Rod.    I  know  his  gait,  'tis  he.  —  Villain,  thou  diest  ! 

\_Riishcs  from  his  post,  aih/  makes  a  pass  <?/ Cassio. 
Cas.    That  thrust  had  been  mine  enemy  indeed, 
But  that  my  coat"*  is  better  than  thou  know'st : 
I  will  make  proof  of  thine.     \_Dra7as,  and  wounds  Roderigo. 
Rod.  O,  I  am  slain  ! 

[Iago  rushes  fro/n  his  post,  cuts  Cassio  behind  in 

the  leg,  and  exit. 
Cas.    I'm  maim'd  forever  !  —  Help,  ho  !  murder  !  murder  ! 

\_Falls. 
Enter  Othello,  at  some  distance. 

0th.    The  voice  of  Cassio  :   Iago  keeps  his  word. 

Rod.   O,  villain  that  I  am  ! 

0th.  It  is  even  so. 

Cas.    O,  help,  ho  !  light  !  a  surgeon  ! 

0th.    'Tis  he  !  —  O  brave  Iago,  honest  and  just, 
That  hast  such  noble  sense  of  thy  friend's  wrong  ! 
Thou  teachest  me.  —  Minion,  your  dear  lies  dead, 
And  your  unblest  fate  hies  :  strumpet,  I  come  ! 
Forth  of  my  heart  those  charms,  thine  eyes,  are  blotted ; 
Thy  bed  lust-stain'd  shall  with  lust's  blood  be  spotted.  {^Exit. 

Enter  LODOVico  and  Gratiano,  at  some  distance. 

Cas.  What,  ho  !  no  watch?  no  passage?^  murder  !  murtler  ! 

4  Cassio  wears,  underneath  his  visible  dress,  a  coat  or  skirt  of  mail ;  a 
hidden  panoply  made  of  finely-wrought  links  of  steel,  and  sometimes 
called  chain-armour.     See  vol.  xvi.  page  274,  note  13. 

6  Are  there  no  passengers  f  none  passing  by  f     Passenger  formerly  meant 


SCENE  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  283 

Gra.    'Tis  some  mischance  ;  the  cry  is  very  direful. 

Cas.    O,  help  ! 

Lod.    Hark! 

Rod.    O  wretched  villain  ! 

Lod.    Two  or  three  groan.      Il  is  a  heavy  night. 
These  may  be  counterfeits  :   let's  tliink't  unsafe 
To  come  in  to  the  cry  without  more  help. 

Rod.   Nobody  come?  then  shall  1  bleed  to  death. 

Lod.    Hark  ! 

Gra.    Here  one  comes  in  his  shirt,  with  light  and  wea- 
pons. , 
Rc-cnlcr  I  ago,  witli  a  Ii<^/if.                               ,P 

Iii^o.    Who's  there?    whose    noise    is    this    that    cries    on 
murder?*^ 

Lod.    We  do  not  know. 

la^fo.  Did  not  you  hear  a  cry? 

Cas.    Here,  here  !  for  Heaven's  sake,  lielp  me  ! 

lajTo.  What's  the  matter? 

Gra.    This  is  Othello's  ancient,  as  I  take  it. 

Lod.    The  same  indeed  ;  a  very  valiant  fellow. 

La\^o.    Wiiat  are  you  here  that  cry  so  grievously? 

Cas.    lago?     O,  I'm  spoil'd,  undone  by  villains  ! 
(live  me  some  help. 

fai^o.    ()  me,  lieutenant  !  what  villains  have  done  this? 

Cas.    I  think  that  one  of  them  is  hereabout, 
And  (  annot  make  away. 

la^^o.  ()  treacherous  villains  !  — 

What  are  you  there?  come  in,  and  give  some  help. 

[  yj'  !,i)i)()\i(o  (/;/// ('iRAii.wo. 

Rod.    ( ),  help  me  here  ! 

a  p:»ssaj»e-boat  or  vi-ssi;!,  antl  so  would  not  have  been  iindcrslood  in  our 
sense.    Of  course  Ix)ndon  h.id  many  such  boats  plying  across  the  Thames. 
"That  cries  or  fxclaims  aji^iihnt  murder.     To  cry  on  and  to  cry  out  on 
are  often  so  used  by  Shakespeare.    See  vol.  xiv.  page  316,  note  62. 


284  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

Cas.    That's  one  of  them. 

lago.  O  murderous  slave  !     O  villain  ! 

\_Stabs  RODERIGO. 

Rod.    O  damn'd  lago  !     O  inhuman  dog  ! 

lago.    Kill    men  i'  the  dark  !  —  Where  be    these    bloody 
thieves? — ■ 
How  silent  is  this  town  !  —  Ho  !  murder  !  murder  !  — 
What  may  you  be  ?  are  you  of  good  or  evil  ? 

Lod.    As  you  shall  prove  us,  praise  us. 

lago.    Signior  Lodovico? 

Lod.    He,  sir. 

lago.    I  cry  you  mercy.     Here's  Cassio  hurt  by  villains. 

Gra.    Cassio  ! 

lago.    How  is't,  brother? 

Cas.    My  leg  is  cut  in  two. 

/ago.  Marry,  Heaven  forbid  !  — 

Light,  gentlemen  !     I'll  bind  it  with  my  shirt. 

Eufcr  BiANCA. 

Bian.    Wliat  is  the  matter,  ho?  who  is't  that  cried? 

lago.    Who  is't  that  cried  ! 

Bian.    O  ray  dear  Cassio  !  my  sweet  Cassio  !  O  Cassio, 
Cassio,  Cassio  ! 

lago.    O  notable  strumpet  !  —  Cassio,  may  you  suspect 
Who  they  should  be  that  have  thus  mangled  you? 

Cas.    No. 

Gra.    I'm  sorry  to  find  you  thus  :   I've  been  to  seek  you. 

lago.    Lend  me  a  garter.  — •  So.  —  O,  for  a  chair, 
To  bea.  him  easily  hence  ! 

Bian.    Alas,  he  faints  !  —  O  Cassio,  Cassio,  Cassio  ! 

lago.    Gentlemen  all,  I  do  suspect  this  trash 
To  be  a  party  in  this  injury.  — 
Patience  awhile,  good  Cassio.  —  Come,  come  ; 
Lend  me  a  lidit.  —  Know  we  this  fi.icc  or  no? 


SCENE  1.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  285 

Alas,  my  friend  and  my  dear  countryman 

Roderigo  !  no  ?  —  yes,  sure  ;  O  Heaven  !  Roderigo  ! 

Gra.    What,  of  Venice? 

lago.    Even  he,  sir  :   did  you  know  him  ? 

Gra.  Know  him  !  ay. 

Icigo.    Signior  Gratiano?  I  cry  you  gentle  pardon  ; 
These  bloody  accidents  must  excuse  my  manners. 
That  so  neglected  you. 

Gra.  I'm  glad  to  see  you. 

lago.    How  do  you,  Cassio?  —  O,  a  chair,  a  chair  ! 

Gra.    Roderigo  ! 

lago.    He,  he,  'tis  he  !  —  [^  chair  hrongJit  iu.~\    O,  that's 
well  said  ;  ~  the  chair.  — 
Some  good  man  bear  him  carefullv  from  hence  ; 
I'll  fetch  the  general's  surgeon.  ^ — \_To   1!ianca.]      For  you, 

mistress. 
Save  you  your  lal)Our.  —  He  that  Hcs  slain  here,  Cassio, 
Was  my  dear  friend  :   wliat  malice  was  between  you? 

Cas.    None  in  the  world  ;  nor  do  I  know  the  man. 

lago.    \_To  BiANCA.]    Wliat,  look  you  pale?  —  O,  bear  him 
out  o'  the  air.  —  [Cassio  and  Rodi:rk;o  arc  home  off. 
Stay  you,  good  gentlemen.  —  Look  you  pale,  mistress?  — 
Do  you  perceive  the  gastness^Tif  her  eye  ?  — 
Nay,  if  you  stare,  we  shall  hear  more  anon.  — 
Rchold  her  well ;   I  pray  you,  look  upon  her  : 
Do  you  .sec,  gentlemen?  nay,  guiltiness  will  speak, 
Though  tongues  were  out  of  use. 

F.utcr  Emilia. 

F.mil.    'Las,  what's  the  matter?  what's  the  nialtcr,  iuisband? 

■^   Well  said  was  a  criniiilon  phrase  for  luell  done. 

8  Gastrifss  {or xhastlinesf ;  the  flcadly  pali.-ncss  of  terror.  The  sense  of 
^host  lies  at  the  bottom  of  it ,  as  to  he  ghosted  was  a  pretty  frightful  matter. 
The  word  does  not  occur  again ;  but  we  have  gasted  in  the  same  sense. 
See  vol.  XV.  page  50,  note  8. 


286  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

lago.    Cassio  hath  here  been  set  on  in  the  dark 
By  Roderigo,  and  fellows  that  are  'scaped  : 
He's  almost  slain,  and  Roderigo  dead. 

Emil.    Alas,  good  gentleman  !  alas,  good  Cassio  ! 

lago.    This  is  the  fruit  of  whoring.  —  Pr'ythee,  Emilia, 
Go  know  of  Cassio  where  he  supp'd  to-night.  — 
\To  BiANCA.]    What,  do  you  sliake  at  that  ? 

Bia/i.    He  supp'd  at  my  house  ;  but  I  therefore  shake  not. 

lago.    O,  did  he  so  ?    I  charge  you,  go  with  me. 

Einil.    Fie,  fie  upon  thee,  strumpet  ! 

Bian.    I  am  no  strumpet ;  but  of  life  as  honest 
As  you  that  thus  abuse  me. 

Emil.  As  I  !  foh  !  fie  upon  thee  ! 

lago.    Kind  gentlemen,  let's  go  see  poor  Cassio  dress'd.  — 
\_To  BiANCA.]   Come,  mistress,  you  must  tell's  another  tale.  — • 
Emilia,  run  you  to  the  citadel. 
And  tell  my  lord  and  lady  what  hath  happ'd.  — 
Will  you  go  on  afore? —  \^Asidc.'\    This  is  the  night 
That  either  makes  me  or  fordoes  ^  me  quite.  {^Exeunt. 

Scene   H.  —  A  Bedchamber  in  the  Castle:  Desdemona  in 
bed  asleep  ;  a  light  burning. 

Enter  Oihello. 

0th.    It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause, ^  my  soul,  — 

8  To  fordo  is  to  undo,  to  ruin,  or  destroy.     See  vol.  xv.  page  156,  note  32. 

1  Othello  means  that  Desdemona's  crime  is  the  sole  motive  or  reason 
that  in.pels  him  to  the  present  act;  that  in  this  alone  he  has  a  justifying 
cause,  a  "compelling  occasion,"  for  what  he  is  about  to  do;  so  that  hj 
cannot  justly  lie  under  the  reproach  of  having  acted  from  any  subjective  or 
self-generated  animus  of  revengeful  jealousy.  Webster  has  a  like  use  of 
cause  in  the  peroration  of  his  great  speech  in  reply  to  Calhoun,  Feb.  16, 
1833 :  "  The  cause,  then.  Sir,  the  cause !  Let  the  world  know  the  cause 
which  has  thus  induced  one  State  of  the  Union  to  bid  defiance  to  the  power 
of  the  whole,"  &c. 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  28/ 

Let  me  not  name  it  to  you,  you  chaste  stars  1^ — - 

It  is  the  cause.     Yet  I'll  not  shed  her  blood ; 

Nor  scar  that  whiter  skin  of  hers  than  snow, 

And  smooth  as  monumental  alabaster. 

Yet  she  must  die,  else  she'll  betray  more  men. 

Put  out  the  light,  —  and  then  put  out  tliy  light.  — 

If  I  quench  thee,  thou  flaming  minister, 

I  can  again  thy  former  light  restore, 

ShouUl  I  repent  me  ;  —  but,  once  put  out  thy  light. 

Thou  cunning'st  pattern  of  excelling  Nature, 

I  know  not  where  is  that  Promethean  heat 

That  can  thy  light  relume.     When  I  have  pluck'd  the  rose, 

I  cannot  give  it  vital  growth  again, 

It  needs  must  wither  :   I'll  smell  it  on  the  tree.  — 

\_/C/ssi/ig  her. 
O  balmy  l)reath,  that  does  almost  persuade 
Justice  to  break  her  sword  !     One  more,  one  more  : 
lie  tlnis  when  thou  art  dead,  and  I  will  kill  thee. 
And  love  thee  after.     One  more,  and  that's  the  last : 
So  sweet  was  ne'er  so  fatal.     I  must  weep, 
liut  they  are  cruel  tears  :  this  sorrow's  heavenly ; 
It  strikes  where  it  doth  love.^     She  wakes. 


-  Stcevcns  urges  that  the  INiet  had  no  classical  authority  for  "  chaste  stars." 
Hut,  in  classical  poetry,  the  Moon  is  Diana,  the  goddess  of  chastity,  and  the 
stars  arc  the  train  of  virgins  attending  on  her.  And,  if  it  were  not  so, 
Shakespeare  had  the  authority  of  Nature,  and  so  has  made  the  phrase 
classical.  The  epithet  cluiste  thus  applied  most  aptly  suggests  the  nature  of 
the  cause  which  the  purity  of  the  stars  forbids  to  bo  named  in  their  presence. 
No  classical  authority !     Sec  vol.  xvi.  page  314,  note  4. 

3  Hie  tears  are  cruel,  because,  while  heart-wringing  pity  is  streaming  from 
the  eyes,  an  overmastering  strain  of  duly  is  forcing  him  to  what  is,  objectively, 
an  act  of  cruelly.  And  the  very  loveliness  of  the  victim  only  works  to  in- 
tensify his  purp<jsc,  lest  love  should  usurp  tlie  crown  that  belongs  to  a  higher 
passion,  —  a  passion,  loo,  that  must  wear  the  crown,  else  love  itself  will  fall 
from  its  propriety.  Pathos  carrietl  to  the  most  soul-searching  height  I  And 
the  "  sorrow  is  heavenly,"  because  it  is  bajitized  and  washed  into  holiness 


288  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

Des.    Who's  there?  Othello? 

0th.  Ay,  Desdemona. 

Des.    Will  you  come  to  bed,  my  lord  ? 

Otii.    Have  you  pray'd  to-night,  Desdemona? 

Des.    Ay,  my  lord. 

0th.    If  you  bethink  yourself  of  any  crime 
Unreconciled  as  yet  to  Heaven  and  grace. 
Solicit  for  it  straight. 

Des.    Alack,  my  lord,  what  may  you  mean  by  that  ? 

Oth.    Well,  do  it,  and  be  brief;   I  will  walk  by  : 
I  would  not  kill  thy  unprepared  spirit ; 
No,  —  Heaven  forfend  !  —  I  would  not  kill  thy  soul. 

Des.    Talk  you  of  killing  ? 

Oth.    Ay,  I  do. 

Des.    Then  Heaven  have  mercy  on  me  ! 

Otli.    Amen,  with  all  my  lieart  ! 

Des.    If  you  say  so,  I  hope  you  will  not  kill  me. 

Oth.    Hum  ! 

Des.    And  yet  I  fear  you  ;  for  you're  fatal  then 
When  your  eyes  roll  so  :  why  I  should  fear  I  know  not, 
Since  guiltiness  I  know  not ;  but  yet  I  feel  I  fear. 

Oth.    Think  on  thy  sins. 

Des.  They're  loves  I  bear  to  you. 

Oth.    Ay,  and  for  that  thou  diest. 

Des.    That  death's  unnatural  that  kills  for  loving. 
Alas,  why  gnaw  you  so  your  nether  lip  ? 
Some  bloody  passion  shakes  your  very  frame  : 
These  are  portents  ;  but  yet  I  hope,  I  hope. 
They  do  not  point  on  me. 

Oth.  Peace,  and  be  still ! 

Des.    I  will  so.     What's  the  matter? 

bj  the  sacred  and  divine  regards  of  justice.  I  know  not  where  else  we  hav« 
so  fitting  and  hfelike  an  embodiment  in  act  of  Lovelace's  immortal  saying, 
"  I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much,  loved  I  not  honour  more." 


SCENE  II.  THE    NrOOR    OF    VENICE.  289 

Oih.    That  handkerchief  which  I  so  loved  and  gave  thee 
Thou  gavest  to  Cassio. 

Des.  No,  by  my  life  and  soul  ! 

Send  for  the  man,  and  ask  him. 

Oih.  Sweet  soul,  take  heed, 

Take  heed  of  perjury  ;  thou'rt  on  thy  death-bed. 

Da.    Ay,  but  not  yet  to  die. 

0th.  Yes,  presently : 

Therefore  confess  thee  freely  of  thy  sin  ; 
For  to  deny  each  ai'.icle  with  oath 
Cannot  remove  nor  c'loke  the  strong  conception 
That  I  do  groan  withal.     Thou  art  to  die. 

Des.    Then  Lord  luve  mercy  on  me  ! 

0th.  I  say,  amen. 

Des.   And  have  you  mercy  too  !     I  never  did 
Offend  you  in  my  life  ;  never  loved  Cassio 
liut  with  such  general  warranty  of  Heaven 
As  I  might  love  ;  I  never  gave  him  token. 

OtJi.    By  Heaven,  I  saw  my  handkerchief  iu's  hand. 

0  perjured  woman  !  tliou  dost  stone  my  heart, 
And  makest  me  call  what  I  intend  to  do 

A  murder,  which  I  thought  a  sacrifice  :  ^ 

1  saw  the  handkerchief. 

Des.  He  found  it,  then  ; 

I  never  gave  it  him  :   send  for  him  hither; 
Let  him  confess  a  truth. 

0th.  He  liath  confess'd. 

Des.    What,  my  lord  ? 

■•  Some  editors  have  inanrij^ed  to  stumble  at  tliis  passage.  The  language 
is  indeed  conii)ressed,  hut  the  meaning  seems  elear  enough.  Othello  goes 
.-iljout  tlie  killing  of  his  wife  as  an  aet  of  religion,  and  he  fears  lest  her  per- 
jury may  cxciii;  his  anger,  and  so  corrupt  the  deed  into  an  aet  of  revenge. 
So  [ohnson's  <-.xplanali(jn  :  "  Thou //(7'7/£-//f.t/ my  heart,  and  makest  me  kill 
thee  with  the  ra_i;e  of  a  murderer,  when  I  thought  to  have  sacrificed  thee 
to  justice  with  the  calmness  of  a  priest  striking  a  victim." 


290  OTHELLO,  ACT  V, 

0th.   That  he  hath  used  thee. 

Des.  How  ?  unlawfully  ? 

0th.    Ay.  ^^1 

Des.    He  will  not  say  so. 

Otli.  No,  his  mouth  is  stopp'd ; 

Honest  lago  hath  ta'en  order  ^  for't. 

Dis.    O  !  my  fear  interprets  :  what,  is  he  dead? 

0th.    Had  all  his  hairs  been  lives,  my  great  revenge 
Had  stomach  for  tliem  all. 

Des.    Alas,  he  is  betray'd,  and  I  undone  ! 

Oih.    Out,  strumpet  !  weep'st  thou  for  him  to  my  face? 

Des.    O,  banish  me,  my  lord,  but  kill  me  not  ! 

0th.    Down,  strumpet  ! 

Des.    Kill  me  to-morrow  ;  let  me  live  to-night  ! 

0th.    Nay,  if  you  strive,  — 

Des.    But  half  an  hour  ! 

0th.  Being  done,  there  is  no  pause.^ 

Des.    But  while  I  say  one  prayer  ! 

OtJi.  It  is  too  late.    S^Smothers  her. 

Emit.    [//'///////.]    My  lortl,  my  lord  !  what,  ho  !  my  lord, 
my  lord  ! 

Otli.   What  noise  is  this  ?  —  Not  dead  ?  not  yet  quite  dead  ? 
I  that  am  cruel  am  yet  merciful ; 
I  would  not  have  thee  linger  in  thy  pain  : 
So,  so." 

5  In  old  language,  to  take  order  is  to  adopt  measures  or  make  arrange- 
ments.    Shakespeare  has  the  phrase  repeatedly  in  that  sense. 

6  Othello  regards  the  act  as  do7ie,  when  the  conflict  between  his  love  and 
honour  is  fully  over,  his  resolution  finally  taken,  and  his  hand  raised  to  strike. 
To  admit  any  pause,  were  but  to  prolong  the  suffering  of  the  victim. 

"'  At  these  words,  the  Othello  of  the  stage  is  made  to  stab  Desdemona. 
There  is  no  such  direction  in  any  of  the  old  copies  ;  but  still  the  stage-custom 
may  be  right ;  as,  in  the  agony  of  the  moment,  and  in  his  desire  "  not  to  have 
her  Hnger  in  her  pain,"  Othello's  resolution  not  to  shed  her  blood  might  be 
overcome.  It  seems  more  natural,  too,  that  Desdemona  should  speak  after 
being  stabbed,  than  after  being  smothered  to  death. 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  29I 

Emit.    [  Within^    What,  ho  !  my  lord,  my  lord  ! 

0th.  Who's  there? 

Emil.    [  U'ifhin.']    O,  good  my  lord,  I  would  speak  a  word 
with  you  ! 

Ot/i.    Yes  ;  —  'tis  Emilia  ;  — by-and-by.  —  She's  dead. 
'Tis  like  she  comes  to  speak  of  Cassio's  death  ; 
The  noise  was  high.     Ha  !  no  more  moving?     Still, 
Still  as  the  grave.     Shall  she  come  in?  were't  gootl? 
I  think  she  stirs  again  :  no.     What's  best  to  do? 
If  she  come  in,  she'll  sure  speak  to  my  wife  : 
My  wife  !  my  wife  !  what  wife?     I  have  no  wife. 
O,  insupportable  !     O  heavy  hour  ! 
Methinks  it  should  be  now  a  huge  eclipse 
Of  Sun  and  Moon,  and  that  th'  affrighted  globe 
Should  yawn  at  alteration. 

E?niL    [  IViihifi.']  I  do  beseech  you 

That  I  may  speak  with  you,  O,  good  my  lord  ! 

0th.    I  had  forgot  thee  :  O,  come  in,  Emilia. 
Soft !  by-and-by.. —  Let  me  the  curtains  draw. — 
Where  art  thou  ?  [  Opens  the  door. 

Enter  Emilia. 

What's  the  matter  with  thee  now  ? 

Emit.    O,  my  good  lord,  yonder's  foul  murder  done  ! 

0th.    What,  now? 

Einil.    But  now,  my  lord. 

0th.    It  is  the  very  error  of  the  Moon  ;  ^ 
She  comes  more  near  the  P>arth  than  she  was  wont, 
Ar.d  makes  men  mad. 

F.mil.    Cassio,  my  lord,  hath  kill'd  a  young  \'enetian 

*  Othello  says  tliis  with  a  lone  of  sarcastic  or  ironical  scorn  :  "  It  is  the 
mere  wanderini^  or  ex-orbitaiicy  of  the  Moon."  The  seeming  whims  and 
caprices  of  the  Moon,  that  is  to  say,  her  irregularities  of  inovement,  were 
thought  to  make  people;  lunatic.  This  use  of  very  for  mere  occurs  many 
times.    See  vol.  vi.  page  163,  note  a. 


292  OTHELLO,  ACT  V, 

Call'd  Roderigo. 

Oth.  Roderigo  kill'd  ! 

And  Cassio  kill'd  ? 

Emil.  No,  Cassio  is  not  kill'd. 

Oth.    Not  Cassio  kill'd  ?  then  murder's  out  of  tune. 
And  sweet  revenge  grows  harsh. 

Des.    O,  falsely,  falsely  murder'd  ! 

Emil.  Alas,  what  cry  is  that? 

Oth.    That  !  what? 

Emil.    Out,  and  alas  !  that  was  my  lady's  voice.  — 
Help  !  help,  ho  !  help  !  —  O  lady,  speak  again  ! 
Sweet  Desdemona  !     O  sweet  mistress,  speak  ! 

Des.    A  guiltless  death  I  die. 

Emil.  O,  who  hath  done 

This  deed? 

Des.  Nobody  ;  I  myself.     Farewell : 

Commend  me  to  my  kind  lord  :   O,  farewell  !  \^Dies. 

Oth.    Why,  how  should  she  be  murder'd? 

Emil.  Alas,  who  knows? 

Oth.    You  heard  her  say  herself,  it  was  not  I. 

Emil.    She  said  so  :   I  must  needs  report  the  truth. 

Oth.    She's,  like  a  liar,  gone  to  burning  Hell  : 
'Twas  I  tliat  kill'd  her. 

Emil.  O,  the  more  angel  she," 

3  Emilia  evidently  means  that  Desdemona  is  the  more  an  angel  for  hav- 
ing spoken  the  falsehood  in  question.  And  surely  all  well-ordered  minds 
must  agree  with  her:  at  all  events,  I,  for  one,  cannot  choose,  but  love  and 
honour  Desdemona  the  more  for  that  lie.  For,  indeed,  the  sweet,  dear 
sufferer  knows  that  Othello  is  driven  onward  by  some  monstrous  delusion; 
that  some  hideous  inspiration  has  put  him  clean  out  of  his  native  self; 
that  he  is  sure  to  have  the  worst  of  it,  and  so  is  even  more  an  object  of 
compassion  than  herself;  and  the  unspeakable  agony  legible  in  his  features 
wrings  her  pure  soul  with  a  pity  so  intense,  as  to  take  from  her  all  sense 
of  the  pangs  of  death  :  and  so  her  last  breath  is  hallowed  with  a  tender 
yearning  to  shield  him,  as  far  as  she  possibly  can,  from  the  dreadful  retribu- 
tions which  await  him,  both  from  without  and  from  within,  when  the  truth 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  293 

And  you  the  blacker  devil  ! 

O//1.    She  turn'tl  to  foil)-,  and  she  was  a  whore. 

Einil.  Thou  dost  belie  her,  and  thou  art  a  devil. 

0th.    She  was  false  as  water. 

Emil.  Thou  art  rash  as  fire,  to  say 

That  she  was  false  :  O,  she  was  heavenly  true  ! 

0th.    Cassio  did  tup  her;  ask  thy  husband  else. 
»J,  I  were  damn'd  beneath  all  depth  in  Hell, 
But  that  I  did  proceed  upon  just  grounds 
To  this  extremity.     Thy  husband  knew  it  all. 

Emil.    My  husband  ! 

0th.    Thy  husband. 

Emil.    That  she  was  false  to  wedlock? 

0th.    .\\.  with  Cassio.     Nay.  had  she  been  true, 
If  Heaven  would  make  me  such  another  world 
( Jf  one  entire  and  perfect  chrysolite, 
I'd  not  have  sold  her  for  it. 

Emil.    My  husband  ! 

0th.  Ay.  'twas  he  that  told  me  first : 

An  honest  man  he  is,  and  hates  the  slime 
'I'hat  sticks  on  filthy  deeds. 

Emil.  My  husband  ! 

0th.    What  needs  this  iterance,  woman  ?     I  say  thy  hus- 
band. 

Emil.    O  mistress,  villainy  hatli  made  mocks  with  love  ! '"  — 
My  husband  say  that  siie  was  false  ! 

Oth.  He,  woman ; 

I  say  thy  husl)and  :   dost  understand  the  word? 
My  friend,  thy  husband,  honest,  honest  lago. 

shall  be  known.  So  deep  .nnil  sacretl  is  the  head  and  spring  of  Dcsde- 
inona's  dying  falsehood !  It  is  a  lie  bom  of  the  very  holiness  of  tnith  itself! 
'"  Tliat  is,  villainy  has  made  a  sport  and  mockery  of  love,  by  jilaying  upon 
it,  and  lieguiling  it  into  a  conflagration  of  its  own  home.  Emilia  jirobably 
refers  to  the  heroine's  friendly  efforts  in  Cassio's  behalf 


294  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

Emil.    If  he  say  so,  may  his  pernicious  soul 
Rot  half  a  grain  a  day  !  he  hes  to  th'  heart : 
She  was  too  fond  of  her  most  filthy  bargain. 

0th.    Ha! 

Emil.    Do  thy  worst : 
This  deed  of  thine  is  no  more  worthy  Heaven 
Than  thou  wast  worthy  her. 

OtJi.  Peace,  you  were  best. 

Einil.   Thou  hast  not  half  the  power  to  do  me  harm 
As  I  have  to  be  hurt.     O  gull  !  O  dolt  ! 
As  ignorant  as  dirt  !  thou  hast  done  a  deed  — 
I  care  not  for  thy  sword ;  I'll  make  thee  known, 
Though  I  lost  twenty  lives.  —  Help  !  help,  ho  !  help  ! 
The  Moor  hath  kill'tl  my  mistress  !     Murder  !  murder  ! 
Enter  MoNTANO,  Gratiano,  ami  Iago. 

Afon.    What  is  the  matter?  —  How  now,  general ! 

Eiiiil.    O,  are  you  come,  Iago?  you've  done  well, 
That  men  must  lay  their  murders  on  your  neck. 

Gra.    What  is  the  matter? 

Emil.    Disprove  this  villain,  if  thou  be'st  a  man. 
He  says  thou  told'st  him  that  his  wife  was  false  : 
I  know  thou  didst  not,  thou'rt  not  such  a  villain. 
Speak,  for  my  heart  is  full. 

Iago.    I  told  him  what  I  thought ;  and  told  no  more 
Than  what  he  found  himself  was  apt  and  true. 

Emil.    But  ditl  you  ever  tell  him  she  was  fiilse? 

Iago.    I  did. 

Emil.    Vou  told  a  lie  ;  an  odious,  damned  lie  ; 
Upon  my  soul,  a  lie  ;  a  wicked  lie  ! 
She  false  with  Cassio  !  did  you  say  with  Cassio? 

Iago.    With  Cassio,  mistress.     Go  to,  charm  'i  your  tongue. 

11  To  charm  is  to  hu.sli  or  still  as  with  a  charm.  Pliny  says  that  favete 
Unguis  was  the  constant  cxcl.unation  before  any  charm  was  applied. 
From  this  circumstance  the  phrase  to  charm  a  tongue  may  have  originated. 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  295 

Emil.    I  will  not  charm  my  tongue  ;  I'm  bound  to  speak  : 
My  mistress  here  lies  murder'd  in  her  bed,  — 

Mon.  I  Q   Heavens  forfend  ! 

Gra.    j 

Emil.    —  .And  your  reports  have  set  the  murder  on. 

Otii.    Nay,  stare  not,  masters  :   it  is  true,  indeed. 

Gra.    'Tis  a  strange  truth. 

Mon.    O  monstrous  act  ! 

Emil.  Villainy,  villainy,  villainy  ! 

I  think  upon't,  I  think, —  I  smell't ;  —  O  villainy  !  — 
I  thought  so  then  ;  '- —  I'll  kill  myself  for  grief.  — 

0  villainy,  villainy  ! 

lago.    What,  are  you  mad?     I  charge  you,  get  you  home. 

Emil.    ( iood  gentlemen,  let  ine  have  leave  to  speak : 
'Tis  proper  I  obey  him,  but  not  now.  — 
Perchance,  lago,  I  will  ne'er  go  home. 

0th.    O  !  O  !  O  !  ^Fixlling  on  the  bed. 

Emil.  N^y,  lay  thee  down  and  roar ; 

For  thou  hast  kill'd  the  sweetest  innocent 
That  e'er  did  lift  up  eye. 

0th.    \_Risiiii^.'\  O,  she  was  foul  !  — 

1  scarce  did  know  you,  uncle  :  there  lies  your  niece, 
Whose  breath,  indeed,  these  hands  have  newly  stopp'd  : 
I  know  this  act  shows  horrible  and  grim. 

Gra.    Poor  Desdemon  !   I'm  glad  thy  father's  dead  : 
Thy  match  was  mortal  to  him,  and  pure  grief 
Shore  his  old  thread  in  twain  :   did  he  live  now, 
This  sight  would  make  i)im  do  a  desperate  turn. 
Yea,  curse  his  l)elter  angel  from  his  side, 
And  fall  to  reprobance. 

Oih.    'Tis  pitiful ;  but  yet  lago  knows 
'i'hat  she  with  C'assio  hath  the  act  of  shame 

•'-  That  is,  when  she  gave  the  handkerchief  to  lago;  for  even  then  she 
appears  to  have  suspected  it  wus  sougiu  after  for  no  lionest  purpose. 


296  OTHliLLO,  ACT  V. 

A  thousand  times  committed  ;  Cassio  confess'd  it : 
And  she  did  gratify  '"^  his  amorous  works 
\Vith  that  recognizance  and  pledge  of  love 
Which  I  first  gave  her ;   I  saw  it  in  his  hand  : 
It  was  a  handkerchief,  an  antique  token 
My  father  gave  my  mother. 

Emil.    O  Heaven  !     O  heavenly  powers  ! 

lago.    Come,  hold  your  peace. 

Emil.  'Twill  out,  'twill  out  !     I  peace  ! 

No,  I  Avill  speak  as  liberal  as  the  north-^^'^. 
Let  Heaven  and  men  and  devils,  let  them  all, 
All,  all,  cry  shame  against  me,  yet  I'll  speak. 

lago.    Be  wise,  and  get  you  home. 

Ei7iil.  I  will  not. 

[Iago  offers  to  stab  Emilia. 

Gra.  Fie ! 

Your  sword  upon  a  woman  ? 

Emil.  O  thou  dull  Moor  1  that  handkerchief  thou  speak'st  of 
I  found  by  fortune,  and  did  give  my  liusband ; 
For  often,  with  a  solemn  earnestness  — 
More  than  indeed  belong'd  to  such  a  trifle  — 
He  begg'd  of  me  to  steal  it. 

Iago.  Villainous  whore  ! 

Emil.    She  give  it  Cassio  !  no,  alas,  I  found  it, 
And  I  did  give't  my  husband. 

Iago.  Filth,  thou  liest ! 

Emil.    By  Heaven,  I  do  not,  I  do  not,  gentlemen. — 
O  murderous  coxcomb  !  what  should  such  a  fool 
Do  with  so  good  a  wife  ? 

Otli.  Arc  there  no  stones  in  Heaven 

13  Gratify  here  is  explained  by  Walker  "  express  her  gratitude  for,  rec- 
ompe?tse."     A  singular  use  of  the  word,  but  involving  no  real  obscurity. 

14  Meaning,  to  be  suic,  "  I  will  be  as  free,  as  unrestrained,  in  speech,  a^ 
the  north  7iund  is  in  blowing." 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOK    ol'    Vi:\lCE.  29/ 

But  what  serve  for  the  thunder?  ^•'  —  Precious  villain  ! 

[OiHKLLO  oj^ers  to  stab  Ia(;o,  hut  is  disarmed  by  MoN- 
TANo  :    Ia(;()  stabs  I^mima,  and  flien  runs  out. 

Gra.    The  woman  falls  ;  sure,  he  hath  kill'd  his  wife. 

Etnii.    Ay,  ay,     O,  lay  me  by  ni}'  mistress'  side. 

Gra.    He's  gone,  but  his  wife's  kill'd. 

Man.    'Tis  a  notorious  villain."'     Take  you  this  weapon, 
Which  I  have  here  recover'd  from  the  Moor : 
Come,  guard  the  door  without ;  let  him  not  pass, 
But  kill  him  rather.     I'll  after  that  same  villain. 
For  'tis  a  damned  slave.     \_Exeunt  Montano  and  (Iratiano. 

0th.  I  am  not  valiant  neither, 

But  every  puny  whipster  gets  my  sword  ; 
But  why  should  hon5ur  outlive  honesty?  ■'' 
Let  it  go  all. 

Emil.  What  did  thy  song  bode,  lady? 

Hark,  canst  thou  hear  me?     I  will  play  the  swan. 
And  die  in  niusic  :    [Sings.]    W'illoiv,  7C'iI/oiii,  ^ciil/oiu.  — 
Moor,  she  was  chaste  ;  slie  loved  thee,  cruel  Moor ; 
So  come  my  soul  to  bliss  as  I  speak  true ; 
So  speaking  as  1  think,  I  die,  —  I  die.  \_Dies. 

Ot/t.    I  have  another  weapon  in  this  chamber ; 
It  is  a  sword  of  Spain,  the  ice-brook's  temper  :  '^ 

"'  Thwndcr-slone  is  the  old  name  for  \.h\im\cr-bolt.  Othello  means,  "Has 
Heaven  no  bolts  to  spare  from  the  work  of  thunder  for  the  special  purpose 
of  hurlinf,'  at  such  villains?  " 

''•  lago  could  not  be  called  a  notorious  villain  in  our  sense  of  the  word, 
as  his  villainy  was  not  >(v/K7w/."  But  Shakespeare  uses  the  word  with  con- 
siderable license,  and  has  it  repeatedly  very  much  in  the  sense  of  egregious 
or  outrageous.     Sec  page  272,  note  12.     Also  vol.  v.  page  238,  note  28. 

•'  The  meaning,  here,  is  obscure,  owing  to  an  uncommon  use  of  words. 
Honour  is  put  for  valour,  as  the  context  shows,  because  to  be  valiant  was 
held  the  corner-stone  of  a  man's  honour.  Honesty,  a-jain,  has  the  sense  of 
honour.  The  usage  was  not  uncommon.  So  in  North's  Plutarch,  Life  of 
Coriolanus :  "  Thinkest  thou  it  is  not  honesty  for  thee  to  grant  thy  mother's 
request,  in  so  weighty  a  cause?  "     See,  also,  vol.  xiv.  page  198,  note  28. 

18  The  way  of  tempering  steel  is  by  plunging  it  red-hot  into  cold  water; 


298  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

O,  here  it  is. — Uncle,  I  must  come  forth. 

Gra.    [  IVithin.']    If  thou  attempt  it,  it  will  cost  thee  dear  : 
Thou  hast  no  weapon,  and  perforce  must  suffer. 

Ofh.    Look  in  upon  me,  then,  and  speak  with  me. 
Or,  naked  ^^  as  I  am,  I  will  assault  thee. 

Re-enter  (iRAXiANO. 

Gra.    What  is  the  matter? 

0th.  Behold,  I  have  a  weapon  ; 

A  better  never  did  itself  sustain 
Upon  a  soldier's  thigh  :   I've  seen  the  day 
That,  with  this  little  arm  and  this  good  sword, 
I've  made  my  way  through  more  imj^cdiments 
That  twenty  times  your  stop  :  but,  O  vain  boast ! 
Who  can  control  his  fate?  'tis  not  so  now. 
Be  not  afraid,  though  you  do  see  me  weapon'd; 
Here  is  my  journey's  end,  here  is  my  butt,-" 
And  very  sea-mark  of  my  utmost  sail. 
Do  you  go  back  dismay'd  ?  'tis  a  lost  fear  : 
Man  but  a  rush  against  Otiiello's  breast. 
And  he  retires.     Where  should  Othello  go  ?  — 
Now,  how  dost  thou  look  now?     O  ill-starr'd  wench  ! 
Pale  as  thy  smock  !  when  we  shall  meet  at  compt,-^^,- 
This  look  of  thine  will  hurl  my  soul  from  Heaven, 
And  fiends  will  snatch  at  it.     Cold,  cold,  my  girl  ! 

and  the  colder  the  water,  the  higher  the  temper  attained.  Steevens  has 
shown  from  Martial  and  Justin  that  in  Spain  the  waters  of  tlie  Salo  and  tlie 
Chalybes,  being  remarkable  for  coldness,  were  used  in  tempering  swords. 
As  Toledo  blades  were  famous  all  over  Europe  in  the  Poet's  time,  he  might 
easily  learn  that  they  were  of  "the  ice-brook's  temper"  without  going  to 
classical  authorities. 

19  Naked  here  is  unarmed,  or  naked  0/  weapons. 

20  Butt  was  a  term  in  archery  for  the  mark,  that  is,  the  end,  at  which  the 
shots  were  aimed. 

21  At  compt  is  at  the  jiidi^mciit,  the  day  of  reckoning  or  of  account.    Shake- 
speare has  the  word  several  times  thus.     See  page  34,  note  13. 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  299 

Mven  like  thy  chastity.  — 

O  cursed,  cursed  slave  !  —  Whii)  uie,  ye  devils, 
From  the  possession  of  this  heavenly  sight  ! 
VAow  nie  about  in  winds  !  -^  roast  me  in  suljihur  ! 
Wash  me  in  steep-down  gulfs  of  liquid  fire  !  — 
O  Desdemon  !  dead,  Desdemon  !  dead  !  O  !  O  ! 

Enter  Louovico,  Montano,  C.assio  carried  in  a  Chair,  and 
Officers  with  I.aoo,  Prisoner. 

Lod.    Where  is  this  rash  and  most  unfortunate  man  ? 

0th.    That's  he  that  was  Othello  :  here  I  am. 

Lfld.    Where  is  that  viper?  bring  the  villain  forth. 

0th.  I  look  down  towartls  his  feet,-^  —  but  that's  a  fa!)le.  — 
If  that  thou  be'st  a  devil,  I  cannot  kill  thee.     \_]\'oundx  Iacio. 

Lod.    Wrench  his  sword  from  him.  [Othkllo  is  disarmed. 

la^'o.  I  bleed,  sir ;  but  not  kill'd. 

0th.    I  am  not  sorry  neither  :   I'd  have  thee  live  ; 
For,  in  my  sense,  'tis  happiness  to  die. 

Lod.    O  thou  Othello,  that  wert  once  so  good, 
l'"airn  in  the  practice'-''  of  a  damned  slave. 
What  shall  be  said  to  thee? 

0th.  ^Vhy,  any  thing  : 

An  lionouiabK'  mnnlerer,  if  you  will ; 
For  nougiit.  I  did  in  hate,  but  all  in  honour. 

■•«  Probaljly  llic-  hc-sl  commont  on  tliis  is  in  Afrasiiri'  for  Measure,  ill.  I : 

To  li.illie  ill  fiery  (liiods,  or  to  reside 

111  ihrilliir.;  regions  of  ihick-ribbid  ice  ; 

To  l)e  iiiiprisoii'd  in  the  viewless  winds, 

And  blown  with  restless  violence  round  .nboiit 

The  pendent  world 

23  Alluding  to  the  Devil's /i^/rrf  cloven  foot.  Othello  looks  down  towards 
lago's  feet,  to  see  if  he  has  that  sign  of  being  a  devil,  but  then  conchiiics  that 
he  may  be  just  as  much  a  devil  without  it.  In  what  follows,  he  implies  that 
devils  are  in  their  nature  immortal. 

*•  Practice,  again,  {ox  plot,  stratagem,  or  device.     See  page  251,  note  10. 


300  OTHELLO,  act 

Lod.  This  wretch  hath  part  confess'd  his  villainy : 
Did  you  and  he  consent  in  Cassio's  death? 

0th.    Ay. 

Cas.    Dear  general,  I  never  gave  you  cause. 

0th.    I  do  believe  it,  and  I  ask  your  pardon. 
Will  you,  I  pray,  demand  that  demi-devil 
Why  he  hath  thus  ensnared  my  soul  and  body? 

lago.    Demand  me  nothing  :  what  you  know,  you  know 
From  this  time  forth  I  never  will  speak  word. 

Lod.    What,  not  to  pray? 

Gra.  Torments  will  ope  your  lips. 

0th.    Well,  thou  dost  best. 

Lod.    Sir,  you  shall  understand  what  hath  befall'n. 
Which,  as  I  think,  you  know  not.     Here's  a  letter 
Found  in  the  pocket  of  the  slain  Roderigo ; 
And  here  another  :  the  one  of  them  imports 
The  death  of  Cassio  to  be  undertook 
By  Roderigo. 

Otlt.    O  villainy  ' 

Cci!^.  Most  heathenish  and  most  gross  ! 

Lod.    Now  here's  another  discontented  paper. 
Found  in  his  pocket  too  ;  and  this,  it  seems, 
Roderigo  meant  t'  have  sent  this  damned  villain  ; 
But  that,  belike,  lago  in  the  interim 
Came  in  and  satisfied  him. 

0th.  O,  the  pernicious  caitiff!  — 

How  came  you,  Cassio,  by  that  handkerchief 
That  was  my  wife's? 

Cas.  I  found  it  in  my  chamber : 

And  he  himself  confess'd  but  even  now 
That  there  he  dropp'd  it  for  a  special  purpose. 
Which  wrought  to  his  desire. 

0th.  O  fool  !  fool  !  fool  ! 

Cas.    There  is,  besides,  in  Roderigo's  letter. 


SCENE  II.  THE    MOOK    OF    VENICE.  30I 

How  he  upbraids  lago,  that  he  made  him 
Brave  me  upon  the  watch  ;  whereon  it  came 
That  I  was  cast :  and  even  but  now  lie  spake, 
After  long  seeming  dead,  lago  hurt  him, 
lago  set  him  on. 

LotL    You  must  forsake  this  room,  and  go  with  us  : 
Your  power  and  your  command  is  taken  off, 
And  Cassio  rules  in  Cyprus.     For  this  slave, 
If  there  be  any  cunning  cruelty 
That  can  torment  him  much  and  hold  him  long, 
It  shall  be  his.     You  shall  close  prisoner  rest, 
Till  that  the  nature  of  your  fault  be  known 
To  the  Venetian  State.  —  Come,  bring  away. 

0th.    Soft  you  !  a  word  or  two  before  you  go. 
I've  done  the  State  some  service,  and  they  know't ; 
No  more  of  that.     I  pray  you,  in  your  letters. 
When  you  shall  these  unlucky  deeds  relate, 
Speak  of  me  as  I  am  ;  nothing  extenuate, 
Nor  set  down  aught  in  malice  :  then  must  you  speak 
Of  one  that  loved  not  wisely,  but  too  well  ; 
Of  one  not  easily  jealous,  but,  being  wrought, 
Perplex'd  in  the  extreme  ;-^  of  one  whose  hand, 
Like  the  base  Indian,  threw  a  pearl  away 
Richer  than  all  his  tribe  ;  ^'^  of  one  whose  subdued  eyes, 

25  That  is,"  but  wlio,  being  wrought  upon,  was  perplexed  in  the  extreme." — 
Walker  retnarks  that  "perplexed,  as  Shakespeare  understood  it,  meant  much 
more  than  with  us."  And  he  cites  various  examples  showing  that  the  word 
was  used  of  the  most  agonizing  states  of  inind. 

2*  Hereupon  Coleridge  has  the  following :  "  Othello  wishes  to  excuse 
liimself  on  the  score  of  ignorance,  and  yet  not  excuse  himself,  —  to  excuse 
himself  by  accusing.  This  struggle  of  feeling  is  finely  conveyed  in  the  word 
/^(W(?.  which  is  applied  to  the  rude  Indian,  not  in  his  own  character,  hut  as 
the  momentary  representative  of  Othello's."  —  Whether  Shakes|X'are  meant 
an  allusion  to  any  particular  story  of  an  Indian,  or  to  the  Indians  as  gen- 
erally described,  is  not  quite  clear ;  probably,  the  latter.  So  in  Drayton's 
Legend  of  Matilda  :  "  The  wretched  Indian  spumes  the  golden  ore."     Also, 


302  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

Albeit  unused  to  the  melting  mood, 

Drop  tears  as  fast  as  the  Arabian  trees 

Their  medicinal  gum.     Set  you  down  this  ; 

And  say  besides,  that  in  Aleppo  once, 

Where  a  malignant  and  a  turban 'd  Turk 

Beat  a  Venetian  -~  and  traduced  the  State,     • 

I  took  by  th'  throat  the  circumcised  dog, 

And  smote  him  —  tlius.  [S^ah-  himself  with  a  dagger-^ 

Lod.    O  l)loody  period  ! 

Gra.  All  that's  spoke  is  marr'd. 

0th.    I  kiss'd  thee  ere  I  kill'd  thee  :   no  way  but  this, 

\^Fa//i/ig  iipan  Desdemona. 
Killing  myself,  to  die  upon  a  kiss.  \_Dies. 

Cas.    This  did  I  fear,  but  thought  he  had  no  weapon  ; 
For  he  was  great  of  heart.  ^  ,  ■ 

Lod.    {To  I  AGO.]  O  Spartan  dog^^^    ^'' 

More  fell  than  anguish,  hunger,  or  the  sea  ! 
Look  on  the  tragic  loading  of  this  bed  ; 
This  is  thy  work  :  — the  object  poisons  sight ; 
Let  it  be  hid.  —  Gratiano,  keep  ^o  the  house, 

in  The  Woman's  Conquest,  by  Sir  Edward  Howard:  "Behold  my  queen, 
who  with  no  more  concern  He  cast  away  then  Indians  do  a  pearl,  that  ne'er 
did  know  its  value."     And  in  Habington's  Castara  : 

So  the  unskilfull  Indian  those  bright  gems. 
Which  might  adde  majestie  to  diadems, 
'Mong  the  waves  scatters. 

-''  It  is  said  to  have  been  immediate  death  for  a  Christian  to  strike  a  Turk 
in  Aleppo. 

23  As  Othello  has  been  twice  disarmed  of  his  sword,  first,  on  his  offer- 
ing to  stab  lago,  and  then  on  his  wounding  lago,  we  have  to  suppose 
that  in  stabbing  himself  he  uses  a  dagger  which  he  has  hitherto  kept 
concealed. 

29  The  dogs  of  Spartan  race  were  reckoned  among  those  of  the  most  fierce 
and  savage  kind. 

30  Keep  in  the  sense  of  guard  or  watch.  Repeatedly  so.  See  vol.  viL 
page  169,  note  14. 


SCENE  ir.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  303 

And  seize  upon  ^^  the  fortunes  of  the  Moor, 

For  they  succeed  on  you.  —  To  you,  lord  governor, 

Remains  the  censure  -''^  of  this  hellish  villain. 

The  time,  the  place,  the  torture  ;  O,  enforce  it  ! 

Myself  will  straight  aboard,  and  to  the  State 

This  heavy  act  with  heavy  heart  relate.  \_Exeiint. 

31  Seize  upon  here  means  take  possession  of;  a  law  term,  used  tlius  in 
divers  other  places.     See  vol.  iv.  page  252,  note  2. 

3- "The  censure"  is  Ihn  judgment  or  the  sentencing ;  as  the  word  was 
commonly  used.    See  page  214,  note  17. 


CRITICAL    NOTES. 


Act  I.,  Scene  i. 

Page  162.  Three  great  ones  of  the  city, 

[n  personal  suit  to  make  me  his  lieutenant. 

Oft  capp'd  to  him.  —  So  the  quartos.  The  foHo  has  "  Off-capt 
to  him."  "This  is  preferred  by  some  editors  on  the  ground  that  to  cap 
meant  to  keep  the  cap  on.  But  the  word  was  certainly  used  for  the 
common  ceremony  of  taking  off  the  cap  or  hat  as  a  mark  of  deference. 
See  foot-note  2. 

V.  162.    And,  in  conclusion,  nonsuits  my  fnediators  ; 

For,  certes,  says  he,  I've  already  chose 

My  officer.  And  what  was  he?  —  So  the  iirst  quarto.  The 
other  old  copies  omit  "  And,  in  conclusion."  The  originals  have  no 
indication  as  to  how  much  of  the  passage  was  meant  to  be  taken  as  a 
((ucjtation  from  Othello  ;  and  editors  differ  somewhat  on  that  point.  I 
am  not  sure  but  the  word  For  should  be  so  taken  ;  but  Dyce  and  the 
Cambridge  Editors  think  otherwise. 

1'.  162.  A  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  wight.  —  Instead  of  wight 
the  old  copies  have  Wife,  with  which  nearly  all  are  dissatisfied,  and 
which  cannot  indeed  be  explained  to  any  fitting  sense  but  by  methods 
too  subtile  and  recondite.  A  good  many  different  changes  have  been 
made  or  proptjsed.  Tyrwhitt  conjectured  "  a  fair  life"  :  and  Coleridge 
thinks  this  reading  "the  true  one,  as  filling  to  lago's  contempt  for 
whatever  did  ncjt  display  power,  and  that,  intellectual  i)ower."  Mr. 
White  reads  "in  a  fair  wise";  not  very  hajjpily,  I  think.  Of  all  the 
readings  hitherto  offered,  I  prefer  Capell's  face.  It  suits  the  occasion 
and  the  speaker  very  well :  for  lago  dwells  much  on  Cassio's  hand- 
someness of  person  ;  recurs  to  it  again  and  again  ;  and  builds  his 
scheme  partly  on  that  circumstance,  as  if  he  longed  to  make  it  the 
ruin    of  Oassio,  sure   enough.     On  the  other   hand,  however,  lago's 


306       OTHELLO,  THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE. 

thought  may  well  have  been,  that  Cassio  was  badly  damaged  by  the 
fascinations  of  a  handsome  mistress  ;  thus  referring  to  the  amorous 
intrigue  with  Bianca,  which  comes  out  so  strongly  in  the  course  of 
the  play.  So  I  am  satisfied  that  we  ought  to  read  wight.  It  seems  to 
me  a  very  natural  and  fitting  word  for  the  place  ;  and,  if  spelt  phono- 
graphically,  7inte,  might  easily  be  misprinted  wife;  and  lago  seems 
rather  fond  of  using  it  scoffingly  in  reference  to  women.  It  may  not 
be  amiss  to  note  further,  that  lago's  talk  about  Cassio  is  full  of  con- 
tempt :  he  is  sneering  at  him  both  as  a  soldier  and  as  a  man  ;  and 
Cassio's  lickerous  infatuation  is  an  apt  handle  for  his  scorn  to  take  hold 
of.  And  so  \>o'Ca.  fellow  and  wife,  or  whatever  may  be  the  right  word, 
are  used  by  him  contemptuously ;  and  it  would  be  quite  in  character 
for  him  to  speak  of  Cassio  either  as  a  coxcomb  almost  spoiled  by  his 
own  good  looks,  or  as  a  fellow  bewitched  well-nigh  out  of  his  senses 
with  a  fair  fancy-girl.  —  Mr.  Arrowsmith,  however,  contends  stoutly  for 
the  old  text.  He  multiplies  words  rather  profusely  in  order  to  make 
out  that  the  meaning  is,  that  such  a  character,  or  such  soldiership,  as 
Cassio's  would  be  almost  condemned  in  a  woman.  This  is  indeed  a 
good  meaning  in  itself  ;  but  to  transmute  the  Poet's  words  into  it, 
requires  more  of  hermeneutical  alchemy  than  I  am  master  of.  Felloiv 
does  not  signify  character  or  soldiership  in  any  author  that  I  am  ac- 
quainted with.  Besides,  this  meaning  is  sufficiently  expressed  in  what 
follows.  And  Mr.  Arrowsmith's  interpretation  would,  I  think,  bring 
us  to  this :  "  Cassio's  soldiership  would  be  almost  contemptible  in  an 
ordinary  woman  ;  and  he  knows  no  more  how  to  order  a  battle  than 
an  ordinary  woman  does."  Surely  a  reading  that  prompts  or  requires 
an  explanation  so  forced  and  far-fetched  may  well  be  distrusted.  It 
has  set  me  more  than  ever  against  the  old  text.     .See  foot-note  4. 

P.  163.  Unless  the  bookish  Theoric, 

Wherein  the  toged  consuls  can  propose 

As  masterly  as  he.  —  So  the  first  quarto.  The  other  old  copies 
have  "  the  Tongued  Consuls,"  which  some  prefer,  as  agreeing  better 
with  the  context,  "  mere  prattle,  without  practice,"  &c.  But  surely 
toged  \s  the  right  word.  See  foot-note  6.  The  folio  has  a  like  error  in 
Coriolaniis. 

P.  164.    And,  throwing  but  shows  of  service  on  their  lords. 

Well  thrive  by  them,  and,  ivhen  they''ve  lined  their  coats. 
Do  themselves  homage.  —  So  Pope.     The  old  copies  have  "  Doe 
well  thrive  by  them  ";   the  transcriber's  or  printer's  eye  having  probably 
caught  Doe  in  the  next  line. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  307 


Act  I.,  Scene  2. 

P.  172.  Vou  had  />i'en  hotly  calV d  for  ; 

When,  being  not  at  your  lodging  to  be  found. 

The  Senate  sent  about  three  several  quests 

To  search  you  out.  - —  In  the  first  of  these  lines,  the  old  copies 
read  "you  have  bin  hotly  call'd  for."  The  correction  is  Lettsom's.  In 
the  third  line,  the  quartos  read  "  The  Senate  sent  above  three  "  ;  the 
folio,  "The  Senate  hath  sent  about  three." 

P.  173.  Keep  up  your  bright  swords,  for  the  dew  7inll  rust  them.  — 
Walker  would  read  or  instead  oi  for.     Perhaps  rightly. 

P.  174.    .Ibtised  her  delicate  youth  -with  drugs  or  minerals 

'That  waken  motion.  —  So  Ilanmer.  The  old  copies  read 
"  That  "iVrt/vM  motion."  Theobald  printed  "  weaken  «(?//t7«  "  /  as  the 
Poet  sometimes  uses  notiofi  for  mind  or  judgment.  Ritson  says  that 
"io'iveaken  tnotion  is  to  impair  the  faculties''' ;  but  that  surely  is  a 
strange  use  of  language.     See  foot-note  16. 

Act  I.,  ScKNK  3. 

P.  177.  Have  there  injoitited  'with  an  after  feet. —  So  the  first 
quarto.  The  other  old  ccjpies  have  "  injointed  them  with";  thus  spoil- 
ing the  rhythm  without  helping  the  sense.     See  foot-note  7. 

P.  179.     What  conjuration,  and  'what  mighty  magic, — 
Tor  such  proceeding  I  am  charg'd  withal,  — 
/  won  his  daughter  with.  —  .So  the  second  folio.     The  earlier 
editions  omit  luith. 

P.  180.    L)uke.  To  vouch  this,  is  no  proof  : 

Without  more  certain  and  more  overt  test, 

These  are  thin  habits  and  poor  likelihoods 

Of  modern  seeming,  yoM  prefer  against  him.  — So  the  ([uartos, 
except  that  they  have  seemings  instead  of  seeming.  The  folio,  doubt- 
less by  mere  accident,  omits  the  jirefix,  thus  making  these  lines  a  con- 
tinuation of  Brabantio's  speech,  and  then  reads  as  follows : 

To  vouch  this,  is  no  proofc, 
Without  more  ivider,  .nnd  more  over  Test 
Then  these  thin  habits,  and  |>oorc  likely-hoods 
Of  modcrne  seeming,  do  prefer  against  him. 


308  OTHELLO,    THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE, 

P.  l8i.  Of  my  redemption  thence, 

.-/«^/portance  in  ;;y  travels'  history.  — ^o  the  quarto  of  1630. 
The  first  quarto  reads  "  And  7vith  it  all  my  travells  Historic  "  ;  the 
folio,  "  And  portance  in  my  Travellours  historic. " 


P.  183.  For  my  own  sake,  jewel, 

I ';«  glad  at  soul  I  have  no  other  child ; 

For  thy  escape  would  teach  me  tyranny,  &c.  —  The  old  copies 
read  "  For  your  sake  "  ;  which  can  nowise  be  made  to  tally  with  the 
context,  except  by  taking  the  phrase  as  equivalent  to  on  your  account,  — 
a  sense  which,  to  be  sure,  it  sometimes  bears.  Lettsom  justly  observes, 
"The  sense,  as  well  as  the  metre,  requires  '  For  my  own  sake,  jewel.'  " 

P.  183.  Let  me  speak  like  yourself,  and  lay  a  sentence,  &c. — This 
and  the  twenty-one  following  lines,  down  to  "  'Beseech  you,  now  pro- 
ceed to  the  affairs  of  State,"  are  most  certainly  an  interpolation.  The 
style  of  them  is  altogether  unlike  that  of  the  surrounding  matter :  it  is 
ambitious,  artificial,  and  studied,  in  the  highest  degree.  In  a  dramatic 
regard,  also,  the  lines  are  a  sheer  incumbrance,  and  serve  no  purpose 
but  to  interrupt  and  embarrass  the  proper  course  of  the  scene.  Be- 
sides, the  preceding  speech  of  Brabantio  has  fully  and  formally  prepared 
the  way  for  the  Duke's  speech,  "  The  Turk  with  a  most  mighty  prepara- 
tion makes  for  Cyprus,"  &c. 

P.  185.  ''Beseech  you,  tiow  proceed  to  the  affairs  of  State.  —  The 
quartos  read  "  Beseech  you  now,  to  the  affairs  of  the  State  ";  the  folio, 
"  I  humbly  beseech  you  proceed  to  th'  Affaires  of  State." 

P.  186.     That  I  did  love  the  Moor  to  live  7vith  him. 

My  downright  violence  an<l  storm  of  fortunes 

May  trumpet  to  the  zvorld.  —  So  the  folio  and  the  quarto  of 
1630 :  thp  quarto  of  1622  has  scorn  instead  of  storm.  Scorn  will  not 
cohere  with  violence,  unless  by  making  it  express  a  quality  of  Desde- 
mona  herself,  not  of  her  fortunes  ;  the  sense  in  that  case  being,  "  my 
downright  violence  of  behaviour,  and  scorn  of  fortune."  She  evidently 
means  the  violence  and  storm  of  fortunes  which  she  has  braved  or 
encountered  in  marrying  the  Moor,  and  not  any  thing  of  a  violent  or 
scornful  temper  in  herself. 


CRITICAI.    \OTES.  309 

P.  187.    Nor  lo  comply  wi'  th'  heat  of  young  affects,  — 
In  me  defunct,  —  but  fur  her  satisfaction. 

And  to  he  free  and  bounteous  to  her  mind. — The  old  copies 
read  as  follows : 

Nor  to  comply  ivith  heat  the  yong  affects 
In  my  defunct,  and  proper  satisfaction. 
But  to  be  free,  and  bounteous  to  her  minde. 

Few  passages  in  Shakespeare  have  trou!)led  the  editors  more  than  this; 
and  the  mass  of  conjectural  criticism  which  it  has  evoked  is  almost 
enough  to  strike  one  with  dismay.  Upton  proposed  the  change  of  my 
into  me,  —  "In  me  defunct  "  ;  and  since  that  time  the  passage  has  com- 
monly been  printed  thus : 

Nor  to  comply  with  heat  —  the  young  affects 
In  me  defunct  —  and  proper  satisfaction  : 
But  to  be  free  and  bounteous  to  her  mind. 

But  I  have  never  been  able  to  rest  satisfied  with  this  reading :  it  seems 
to  me  harsh  and  awkward  beyond  Shakespeare's  utmost  license  of 
language.  In  the  first  line,  the  reading  here  given  is  my  own.  The 
Poet  has  a  great  many  instances  of  the  double  contraction,  loi'  th'  for 
with  the ;  and  in  not  a  few  cases  I  have  found  the  contraction  mis- 
printed with.  So  in  The  Tempest,  i.  i  :  "  Bring  her  to  Try  with 
Maine-course."  And  again  in  the  same  scene :  "  Let's  all  sink  -with' 
King."  In  both  these  cases  —  and  there  are  more  like  them  —  the 
sense  of  with  the  is  clearly  required,  and  accordingly  I  print  wi'  th\ 
The  transcriber  or  printer  probably  did  not  understand  that  point,  in 
the  present  passage,  and  therefore  sophisticated  the  text  into  the  shape 
in  which  it  has  come  down  to  us.  I'"or  the  reading  in  the  second  and 
third  lines  I  am  indel)ted  to  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel  ;  and  it  seems  to  me 
one  of  the  happiest  emendations  ever  made  of  the  Poet's  text.  Nor 
can  the  changes  l)e  justly  termed  violent  ;  as  forher  might  easily  get 
misprinted //'c/^/*,-  and  such  transpositions  as  and  and  but  are  among 
the  commonest  of  typographical  ernjts.  I  must  add  that  to  "cumplv 
witli  one's  own  satisfaction"  i.-.  nnt  and  never  was  Kngli.ih,  as  it  seems 
to  me.     See  fool-ni)te  32. 

\\  187.  When  light-wing' d  toys 

Of  feather'' d  Cupid  seel  with  wanton  dullness 
Afy  speculatii'e  r7W(/ active  instruments,  i*ic.  —  So  the  iiuarlos. 
The  f')lio  has  "and  offii',l  Instrumeul." 


3IO       OTHELLO,  THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE. 

P.  190.  She  will  find  the  error  of  her  choice  :  she  must  have  change, 
she  must :  therefore  put  money  in  thy  purse.  —  So  the  quartos.  The 
foho  has  "  the  errors  of  her  choice,"  and  omits  "  she  must  have  change, 
she  must." 

P.  191.    lago.    No  tnore  of  dro7t>ning,  do  yoti  hear  ? 

Rod.    1  am  changed :  I'll  go  sell  all  my  land, 
lago.    Go  to  ;  fareivell :  put  money  enough  in  your  purse.  — 

[Exit  RODERIGO. 
Thus  do  I  ever  fuake  my  fool  my  purse.  —  So  the  first  quarto, 
except  that  it  lacks  "  I'll  go  sell  all  my  land,"  and  places  the  e.rit  of 
Roderigo  before  the  third  line  instead  of  after  it.  The  second  quarto 
omits  the  third  line  altogether,  but  has  "  I'll  go  sell  all  my  land."  The 
folio  has  nothing  of  the  first  three  lines,  except  "  He  sell  all  my  Land." 

Act  II.,  Scene  i. 

P.  194.  The  ship  is  here  put  in, 

La  Veronesa  ;    Michael  Cassia, 

Lieutenant  to  the  warlike  jMoor  Othello, 

Is  come  on  shore:  the  Moor  himself 's  at  sea,  &c.  —  In  the 
second  of  these  lines,  the  old  copies  have  ".7  Veronessa,"  and  ".4 
Verennessa."  This  has  bred  some  doubt  whether  the  name  referred  to 
the  ship  or  to  Cassio,  as  if  the  speaker  supposed  him  to  be  a  Veronese. 
The  substitution  of  /m  for  ./  is  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel's,  and  of  course  makes 
Veronesa  the  name  of  the  ship.  In  the  fourth  line,  the  old  copies 
have  "  the  Moore  himselfe  at  Sea."     The  correction  is  Rowe's. 

P.  194.     Thanks  to  the  valiant  (y  this  warlike  isle. 

That  so  approve  the  Moor  !  —  So  the  first  i]uarto,  except  that 
it  has  7oorthy  instead  of  warlike.  The  second  quarto  has  the  same, 
except  that  it  omits  'worthy.  The  folio  reads  "Thankes_)'t)«,  the  valiant 
of  the  warlike  Isle." 

P.  195.    His  hark  is  stoutly  timber\l,  and  his  pilot 

Of  very  expert  and  approved  allowance  ; 

Therefore  my  hopes,  not  suffocate  to  death. 

Stand  in  bold  cure.  — The  old  copies  read  "not  surfeited  to 
death."  As  Cassio  evidently  has  apprehensions  about  Othello's  safety, 
how- he  can  either  be  said  to  have  fl«/.f?/;y(7V  of  hope,  or  be  said  not  to  have 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  3  I  I 

a  deadly  surfeit  of  hope,  quite  passes  my  comprehension.  Knight  ex- 
plains, "As  'hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick,'  so  hope  upon  hope, 
without  realization,  is  a  surfeit  of  hope "  ;  but  this  seems  to  me 
absurdly,  not  to  say  ridiculously,  forced.  Cassio's  meaning  appears  to 
be,  that  his  hopes  of  the  Moor's  safety  would  have  been  drowned  to 
death  in  that  terrible  sea,  but  for  the  strong  ship  and  good  ])ilot. 
Johnson,  not  being  able  to  understand  how  hope  could  be  increased  till 
it  were  destroyed,  conjectured  "  not  forfeited  to  death."  I  was  for  a 
while  in  doubt  whether  to  read  "  not  sttffocate  to  death  "  or,  >"  not  sick 
yet  unto  death  "  ;  but  on  the  whole  preferred  the  former  as  involving 
somewhat  less  of  change,  and  as  being  perhaps  rather  more  in  Shake- 
speare's manner.     See  foot-note  8. 

P.  195.    One  that  excels  the  quirks  of  blazoning  pens. 

And  in  tV  essential  vesture  of  creation 

Does  tire  the  ingener.  —  The  (juartos  read  "  Does  bear  all 
excellency"  except  that  the  second  has  an  instead  of  all.  This  read- 
ing has  been  justly  set  down  as  "  flat  and  unpoetical."  The  folio  reads 
"  Do's  tyre  the  Ingeniver."  The  last  word  is  most  likely  a  misprint 
for  ingener.     See  foot-note  9. 

P.  196-  Great  C,o(\,  Othello  guard. 

And  rcvell  his  sail  -with  Thine  o-un  po'uerful  breath,  &c.  —  The 
old  copies  have  "  Great  Joiie:'  "  For  this  absurdity,"  says  Malonc,  "  I 
have  not  the  smallest  doubt  that  the  Master  of  the  Revels,  and  not  our 
Poet,  is  answerable."  The  same  "  absurdity  "  occurs  in  several  other 
places.  See  note  on  "  God  and  my  stars  lie  praised,"  &c.,  vol.  v.  page 
247- 

P.  200.  Is  he  not  a  most  profane  and  liberal  ccn%\ixQT'>  —  So  Theobald 
and  Collier's  second  folio.  The  old  copies  have  Counsailor  instead  of 
censurer. 

P.  205.    If  this  poor  i)iacii  (/  I'ritice,  7choiii  /  trasli 

/•'or  his  quick  hunting,  stand  the  putting-on,  &c. —  So  Collier's 
second  folio.  All  the  old  copies  have  trash  instead  of  brack  ;  while, 
instead  of  trash,  the  first  (piarto  has  crush,  and  the  folio  and  second 
quarto  have  trace.  Tlieobald  reads  "  This  poor  brack  of  Venice,  whom 
I  trace."     Sec  fi")t-n<)lc  3.J. 


312  OTHELLO,    THP:    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 


Act  II.,  Scene  3. 

P.  211.    I  fear  the  trust  Othello  puts  in  him,  &c.  —  So  Capell  and 
Lettsom.     The  old  copies  have  "  pvits  him  in." 

P.  213.    Have  you  forgot  all  sense  oi  Y^s-ce  a7id  duty  ?     Hold! 

The  general  speaks  to  you;  hold,  hold,  for  shame!  —  The  old 
copies  read  "  all  place  of  sence,  and  duty."  They  also  print  the  first 
Hold vA.  the  beginning  of  the  second  line,  thus:  "  Hold.  The  Generall 
speaks  to  you  :  "  &c. 

P.  215.    Shall  lose  me.      What!  in  a  town  with  war 

Yet  wild,  the  people' s  hearts  brimful  of  fear, 

To  manage  private  and  domestic  quarrel. 

In  night,  and  on  tJie  court  oi  guard  and  safety  ! — In  the  first 
and  second  of  these  lines,  the  old  copies  read  "  in  a  Towne  of  warre, 
Yet  wilde,"  &c.  But  what  is  a  town  of  war  ?  or  what  can  the  phrase 
mean?  The  reading  in  the  text  is  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel's.  Of  course  it 
means  "  in  a  town  yet  wild  with  war." — -To  complete  the  metre  of  the 
first  line,  Capell  printed  "  Shall  loosen  me."  But  that,  I  think,  defeats 
the  right  sense.  Hanmer  reads  "  What,  and  in,"  &c.  But  should  it 
not  rather  be  "  What !  even  in  a  town,"  &c.? — In  the  last  line,  also, 
the  old  copies  read  "  on  the  Court  and  guard  of  safety."  Corrected 
by  Theobald.  .    . 

P.    215.    If,  partially  affined,  or  leagued   in    office,  &c.  —  The    old 
copies  have  league  instead  of  leagued. 

P.  215.    And  Cassio  folknoing  7oith  determined  S'word 

To  execute  upon  him.  — The  old  copies  have  "  Cassio  following 
him  "  /  —  probably  an  accidental  repetition  from  the  next  line.  Cor- 
rected by  Pope. 

P.  216.    Sir,  for  your  hurts,  myself  will  be  your  surgeoti.  — 

[  To  MoNTANO,  7vho  is  led  off. 
—  The  old  copies  here  add  to  the  text  "  Lead  him  off,"  but  have 
no  stage-direction.  Doubtless,  as  Malone  thought,  those  words  were 
meant  for  a  stage-direction,  and  got  misprinted  as  part  of  the  text.  A 
very  frequent  error. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  313 

P.  220.    Myself  the  while  to  draw  the  Moor  apart,  ilc.  —  So  Theo- 
bald.   The  old  copies  have  "  Myselfe  a  while,"  and  "  Mysclfe  awhile." 


Act  III.,  Scene  3. 

P.  224.  O  sir,  /  thank  yon.  Yoti  do  love  my  lord.  &c. —  So  the 
quartos.  The  folio  reads  "  /  know't:  I  thanke  you,"  which  some 
editors  jjrefer,  I  do  not  understand  why. 

P.  226.    Save  that,  they  say,  the  wars  must  make  examples 

Out  f/ the  best.  —  .So  Singer.  The  old  copies  have  "Out  of 
her  best."      Kowe  [jrinled  "Out  vi  their  Ijest." 

P.  227.    Or  sue  to  you  to  do  pectiUar  profit 

To  your  o-wn  person.  —  .So  Pope.  The  old  copies  read  "to  do 
a  peculiar  profit,"  &c.  We  have  many  like  instances  of  a  palpably 
interpolated. 

P.  228.  Think,  my  lord  !  —  By  Heaven,  he  echoes  me. 
As  if  there  were  some  monster  in  his  thought 
Too  hideous  to  he  shovin.  —  So  the  first  cpiarto.  The  folio  reads 
"Alas  thou  eccho'st  mc;  .\s  if  there  were  some  Monster  in  /"//^'thought," 
&c.;  the  second  quarto,  "  Why  dost  thou  ecchoe  me,"  &c.  It  is  not 
easy  to  choose  l)etween  these  three  readings,  but  I  am  strongly  inclined 
to  prefer  the  last. 

P.  230.    As,  /  confess,  it  is  my  nature  s  plague 
To  spy  into  abuses,  and  oh  my  jealousy 

Shapes  faults  that  are  not.  Sec.  —  I  here  follow  the  reading  of 
the  quartos,  with  which  the  folio  agrees,  except  that  it  has  of  instead 
()f  oft.  It  has  lieen  proposed  to  read  "of  my  jealousy,"  and  cliangc 
shapes  into  shape.  At  first  sight,  this  is  plausible,  as  it  satisfies  the 
grammar  perfectly.  Uiit  jealousy  is  itself,  evidently,  the  "  nature's 
l)lagiic"  of  which  lago  is  speaking.  .So  that  the  sense  would  be,  "It 
is  my  nature's  plague  to  S|)y  into  aluises,  and  of  my  nature's  plague  to 
shape  faults  that  are  not  "  ;  which  comes  ])retly  near  being  nonsense. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  wc  read,  "It  is  my  nature's  jilague  to  spy  into 
abuses,  and  oft  my  nature's  plague  shapes  faults  that  are  not,"  the 
language  is  indeed  not  good,  but  the  sense  is  |)erfcct. 


314       OTHELLO,  THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE. 

P.  231.    It  is  the  green-eyed  mons/er,  7vhicli  doth  make 

The  7n eat  it  feeds  on.  —  So  Hanmer  and  a  large  majority  of 
the  editors  since  his  time.  The  old  text  has  mocke  instead  of  make,  and 
several  recent  editors  have  gone  back  to  the  former.  But  that  read- 
ing seems  to  me  a  stark  absurdity  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
cannot  well  be  a  truer  description  of  jealousy  than  that  it  creates  its 
own  food.  To  be  sure,  some  manage  to  rack  and  extort  from  7>iock  a 
certain  dim  and  vague  show  of  fitness:  for  so  minds  "green  in  judg- 
ment "  are  apt  to  be  infected,  as  in  my  "  salad  days  "  I  was  myself, 
with  a  fond  conceit  of  ingenuity  that  will  undertake  to  explain  any 
thing  ;  but,  as  men  grow  and  ripen  into  a  love  of  plainness  and  sim- 
plicity, all  such  superfineness  of  explanation  appears  to  them  simply 
ridiculous.  Of  late  years,  Shakespeare  has  suffered  a  good  deal  from 
these  exquisite  tormentors  of  words.     See  foot-note  16. 

P.  242.    And,  being  troubled  unth  a  raging  tooth, 
I  could  not  sleep.      There  are  a  kind  of  men 
So  loose  of  soul,  that  in  their  sleeps  will  mtitter 
Oi  their  affairs:  one  of  this  kind  is  Cassio.  —  .So  Walker.    The 

old  copies  have  a  different  arrangement  of  the  lines,  and  are  without 

Of  in  the  last  line. 

P.  243.    If  it  be  that,  or  any  that  was  hers, 

It  speaks  against  her  with  the  other  proofs  — The  old  copies 
read  "  or  any,  //  was  hers."     Corrected  by  Malone. 

P.  243.  Arise,  black  vengeance,  from  the  hollow  Hell !  — So  the  folio. 
The  quartos  have  "from  thy  hollow  celV\-  which  is  strangely  pre- 
ferred by  several  editors.  To  speak  of  a  hollow  cell  as  the  abode  of 
vengeance  seems  very  tame.  Besides,  as  Othello  has  just  blown  all  his 
love  to  Heaven,  harmony  of  thought  and  language  seems  to  require 
that  he  should  invoke  revenge  from  Hell.     See  foot-note  52. 

P.  244.     Whose  icy  current  and  compulsive  course 

Ne'er  feels  retiring  ebb,  but  keeps  due  on,  &c.  • — So  the  quarto 
of  1630.  Tne  passage  is  not  in  the  first  quarto;  and  the  folio  reads 
"Nev'r  keepes  retyring  ebbe,  but  keepes  due  on."  Collier's  second 
folio  has  "  Ne'er  knozos  retiring  ebb." 

P.  244.    And  to  obey  shall  be  in  me  remorse. 

What  bloody  work  soe'er. — .So  the  quartos.  The  folio  has  "  What 
bloody  business  ever." 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  315 


Act  III.,  ScENK  4. 


P.  250.     That  7ior  my  service  past,  nor  present  sorrow, 

A^or  purposed  merit  in  futurity,  &c.  —  So  Walker.  The  old 
copies  have  Sorrowes  instead  of  sorrow.  The  confounding  of  plurals 
and  singulars  is  very  frequent. 


Act  IV.,  Scene  i. 

P.  25S.    Or  I  shall  say  you" re  all-in-all  one  spleen. 

And  nothing  of  a  man.  —  So   Lettsom.     The   old  copies  read 
"all  in  all  in  Spleene."     Capell  printed  "  all  in  all  a  spleen." 

P.  263.  God  save  the  worthy  general.  — So  the  quarto  of  1622.  The 
other  old  copies  read  "  -Save  you  worthy  Generall."  Probably,  in  this 
instance,  the  former  reading  escaped  the  Master  of  the  Revels. 


Act  IV.,  ScE.NK.  2. 

P.  268.  Had  it  pleased  Heaven 

To  try  me  with  affliction  ;  had  He  rain''d 

.III  kinds  of  sores  and  shames  on  my  bare  head;  &c.  —  .So  the 
quartos.  The  folio  reads  "had  they  rain'd,"  &c.  In  support  of  the 
latter,  Dyce  shows  that  the  Poet  sometimes  uses  Heaven  as  a  collec- 
tive noun  ;   but  he  does  not  show  that  he  constantly  uses  it  so. 

P.  268.    .1  fixed  figure  for  the  time  of  scorn 

To  point  his  slow  unmoving  finger  at.  —  So  the  quartos,  except 
tiiat  the  first  \\7i%  fingers  instead  fji  finger,  and  that  both  add,  after  at, 
" — oh,  oh."  The  folio  has  "The  fixed  figure,"  and  "To  point  his  slow, 
ami  moving  finger  at."  The  passage  has  elicited  a  good  deal  of  com- 
ment, and  various  changes  have  been  proposed,  of  which  the  only  one 
that  seems  to  me  much  worth  pausing  upon  is  Hunter's,  "The  fixed 
figure  (y^  the  time,  yi^r  scorn  To  point,"  &c.  I  add  White's  comment 
on  the  second  line:  ".Some  have  chosen  the  reading  of  the  folio,  on 
the  ground  that  if  the  finger  of  scorn  be  'slow,'  it  must  move,  and 
therefore  '  unmonng '  is  an  incongruous  epithet  I  Hut  surely  the 
linger  of  scorn  is  unmoving,  because  it  does  not  move  from  its  object, 
but  points  at  him  fixedly  and  relentlessly."     See  fool-note  4. 


3l6       OTHELLO,  THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE. 

P.  271.    Hoiv  have  I  been  behaved,  that  he  might  stick 

The  smalVst  opinion  on  my  great'st  abuse? —  So  the  first  quarto. 
The  other  old  copies  have  least  misuse  instead  of  greafst  abuse.  But 
we  cannot  take  on  here  as  equivalent  to  of,  for  the  connection  is  stick 
on,  and  not  opinion  on  ;  so  that  least  does  not  give  the  right  sense. 
See  foot-note  9. 

P.  272.    If  e'er  my  loill  did  trespass  Against  his  love. 

Either  in  discourse,  or  thought,  or  actual  deed;  &c.  —  So  the 
quarto  of  1630.  The  passage  is  not  in  the  first  quarto  ;  and  the  folio  has 
"  discourse  of  thought."  With  the  latter  there  is  no  fault  to  be  found 
on  the  score  of  language  ;  for  Shakespeare  elsewhere  has  "  discourse 
of  reason,"  which  is  but  an  equivalent  phrase.  See  vol.  xiv.  page  159, 
note  32.  But  the  quarto  reading  is,  I  think,  more  in  accordance  with 
the  solemn  and  impressive  particularity  of  the  speaker's  asseveration 
of  her  innocence.  And  it  may  well  be  understood  as  referring  to  the 
three  forms  of  sin,  "  by  thought,  word,  and  deed,"  specified  in  the  old 
catechisms  and  the  eucharistical  confession  of  the  Church. 

P.  274.  I  think  it  is  scurvy,  and  begin  to  find  myself  {o\>Yi'Oi  in  it. — 
So  all  the  old  copies.  Modern  editions  generally  change  fopp'd  to 
fobFd,  and  perhaps  rightly,  as  io  fob  is  to  cheat,  Xo  put  off  by  a  trick,  to 
evade  ;  a  sense  that  well  fits  the  occasion.     See,  however,  foot-note  18. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  3. 

P.  277.  My  mother  had  a  maid  calPd  Barbara. — The  old  copies 
have  Barbary  and  Barbaric ;  and  so  the  name  «as  probably  pro- 
nounced. Many  people  now  pronounce  Martha  as  if  it  were  spelt 
Afarthy. 

P.  277.    .And  she  died  singing  it.     I''ve  much  to-do 

Not  to  go  hang  my  head  all  at  one  side,  &c.  —  .So  Ilamner  and 
Collier's  second  folio  :  Theobald  also  conjectured  the  same.  The  old 
copies  have  "  But  to  go  hang,"  &c.  With  But,  the  construction  is, 
"  I've  much  to-do  to  do  any  thinghut  to  go  hang  "  ;  which,  to  say  the 
least,  is  exceedingly  awkward  and  harsh.  We  have  many  instances  of 
but  and  /lot  misprinted  for  each  other. 

P.  278.  If  I  court  more  women,  you'll  couch  with  more  men. — In- 
stead of  more  —  more,  the  old  copies  have  mo  —  mo,-  but,  as  Walker 


CKincAL  NOTi-:s.  317 

observes,  mo  and  moe  occur  "  in  numberless  places,  where  no  one  has 
thought  it  necessary  so  to  read,  unless  the  rhyme  demanded  it." 

Act  v.,  Scene  i. 

P.  282.  .\'i?,  he  must  die:  be't  so;  I  hear  him  coming.  —  So  the 
quartos.  The  folio  has  "But  so."  Dyce  conjectures  "but  soft!  I 
hear  him  coming."     And  so  I  suspect  it  should  be. 

Act  \.,  Scene  2. 

P.  287.  Put  out  the  lii^hl,  —  and  then  put  out  thy  light,  &c.  —  The 
old  copies  read  "  and  then  put  out  the  light."  The  reading  in  the  text 
is  Ilanmer's,  and  is,  I  think,  fully  justified  by  the  context;  as  we  have, 
just  below,  "but  once  put  out  thy  light,"  and  "That  can  thy  light 
relume." 

P.  290.    Oth.  It  is  too  late.  [Smothers  her. 

Emil.  {^IVithinP^  My  lord,  my  lord!  what,  ho!  &c.  —  So 
the  folio  and  the  second  quarto.  The  first  quarto  inserts  between  these 
two  speeches  "Des.    O  Lord,  Lord,  Lord." 

P.  291.    The  noise  was  high.  —  Ha  !  no  more  moving?  still. 

Still  as  the  grave.  —  So  Walker.  The  first  still  is  not  in  the 
old  copies.  The  metre  certainly  wants  it,  and  the  sense  even  nK)rc, 
perhaps,  than  the  metre. 

P.  291.  O,  my  good  lord,  yonder' s  foul  murder  done  ! — The  old  copies 
have  murders  instead  of  murder.     The  correction  is  Theobald's. 

P.  297.  .ire  there  no  stones  in  Heaven 

But  'what  serve  for  the  thunder  ?  —  Precious  villain  !  —  So 
the  first  <|uarto  and  the  folio.  The  second  (piarlo  has  "  Pernicious 
villain."  And  so  I  more  than  suspect  we  ought  to  read;  fur  there  is 
ground,  surely,  for  Lcttsom's  remark,  that  "'Precious  villain'  is  more 
in  the  style  of  ("lotcn  than  of  Olhcllu." 

P.  299.  O  Desdemon  !  dead,  Desdemon  !  dead!  O!  O!  —  So  the 
folio.     The  ([uartos  have  the  line  as  follows: 

O  DeiJemona,  Dadtmona,  licail,  O,  o,  o. 


3l8  OTHELLO,    THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 

P.  300.    Oth.     0  villainy  ! 

Cas.  A/osf  heathenish  and  most  gross!  —  The 

old  copies  have  Villaine  instead  of  villainy.     Walker  says,  "  Villainy 
of  course  ;    and  so  also  Ritson." 

P.  300.    And  he  himself  confess\i  but  even  noiu 

That  there  he  dropped  it  for  a  special  purpose,  &c.  —  The  first 
quarto  reads  "  confest  it  even  now  "  ;  the  other  old  copies,  "  confest  it 
but  even  now." 

P.  301.  Of  one  whose  hand, 

Like  the  base  Indian,  threw  a  pearl  azuay 

Richer  than  all  his  tribe  ;  &c.  —  So  the  quartos.  The  folio  has 
Judean  instead  of  Indian.     See  foot-note  26. 

P.  302.    Drop  tears  as  fast  as  the  Arabian  trees 

Their  xai.^\z\x\.z\.  gum.  —  So  the  quartos.  The  folio  has  Med- 
icinable. 


PR  2753  .H8  1899  y. 17  SMC 
^Nkespeare,  William, 
The  complete  works  of 
William  Shakespeare    Harvard