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IIM,,fr-°UTHERN   BRANCH 

UNIVERSITY  OP  CALIFORNIA 
LIBRARY 

LOS    ANGELES.  CALIF. 


THE 


PLAYS 


OF 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE. 


VOLUME  THE  NINETEENTH. 


CONTAINING 


TIMON  OF  ATHENS. 
OTHELLO. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  J.  Nichols  and  Son ;  F.  C.  and  J.  Rivington ;  J.  Stockdale ; 
W.  Lowndes;  G.  Wilkie  and  J.  Robinson;  T.  Egerton;  J.  Walker; 
Scatcherd  and  Letterman;  W.  Clarke  and  Sons;  J.  Barker;  J.  Cuthell; 
R.  Lea;  Lackington  and  Co. ;  J.  Deig-hton ;  J.  White  and  Co. ;  B.  Crosby 
and  Co. ;  W.  Earle  ;  J.  Gray  and  Son ;  Longman  and  Co. ;  Cadell  and 
Davies;  J.  Harding;  R.  H.  Evans;  J.  Booker;  S.  Bagster;  J.Mawman; 
Black  and  Co.;  J.  Black;  J.  Richardson;  J.  Booth;  Newman  and 
Co.;  R.  Pheney;  R.  Scholey;  J.  Murray;  J.  Asperne;  J.  Faulder; 
R.  Baldwin ;  Cradock  and  Joy ;  Sharpe  and  Hailes ;  Johnson  and  Co. ; 
Gale  and  Co. ;  G.  Robinson ;  C.  Brown ;  and  Wilson  and  Son,  York. 


3035 


1813. 


V, 


TIMON  OF  ATHENS.* 


VOL.  xix.  B 


*  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.]  The  story  of  the  Misanthrope  is  told 
in  almost  every  collection  of  the  time,  and  particularly  in  two 
books,  with  which  Shakspeare  was  intimately  acquainted;  the 
Palace  of  Pleasure,  and  the  English  Plutarch.  Indeed  from  a 
passage  in  an  old  play,  called  Jack  Drum's  Entertainment,  I 
conjecture  that  he  had  before  made  his  appearance  on  the  stage. 

FARMER. 

The  passage  in  Jack  Drum's  Entertainment,  or  Pasquil  and 
Katherine,  1601,  is  this  : 

"  Come,  I'll  be  as  sociable  as  Timon  of  Athens." 

But  the  allusion  is  so  slight,  that  it  might  as  well  have  been 
borrowed  from  Plutarch  or  the  novel. 

Mr.  Strutt  the  engraver,  to  whom  our  antiquaries  are  under 
no  inconsiderable  obligations,  has  in  his  possession  a  MS.  play  on 
this  subject.  It  appears  to  have  been  written,  or  transcribed, 
about  the  year  1600.  There  is  a  scene  in  it  resembling  Shak- 
speare's  banquet  given  by  Timon  to  his  flatterers.  Instead  of 
tvarm  ixater  he  sets  before  them  stones  painted  like  artichokes, 
and  afterwards  beats  them  out  of  the  room.  He  then  retires  to 
the  woods,  attended  by  his  faithful  steward,  who,  (like  Kent  in 
King  Lear)  has  disguised  himself  to  continue  his  services  to  his 
master.  Timon,  in  the  last  Act,  is  followed  by  his  fickle  mistress, 
&c.  after  he  was  reported  to  have  discovered  a  hidden  treasure  by 
digging.  The  piece  itself  (though  it  appears  to  be  the  work  of 
an  academick)  is  a  wretched  one.  The  persons  dramatis  are  as 
follows : 

"  The  actors  names. 
44  Timon. 

"  Laches,  his  faithful  servant. 
"  Eutrapelus,  a  dissolute  young  man. 
"  Gelasimus,  a  cittie  heyre. 
"  Pseudocheus,  a  lying  travailer. 
"  Demeas,  an  orator. 

"  Philargurus,  a  covetous  churlish  ould  man. 
"  Hermogenes,  a  {idler. 
"  Abyssus,  a  usurer. 
"  Lollio,  a  cuntrey  clowne,  Philargurus  sonne. 

Stilpo,  1    Two  lying  philosophers. 

"  bpeusippus,     3  J 

"  Grunnio,  a  lean  servant  of  Philargurus. 
"  Obba,  Tymon's  butler. 
"  Poedio,  Gelasimus  page. 
"  Two  Serjeants. 
"  A  sailor. 

"  Callimela,  Philargurus  daughter. 
"  Blatte,  her  prattling  nurse. 

«  SCENE,  Athens."  STEF.VENS. 


Shakspeare  undoubtedly  formed  this  play  on  the  passage  in 
Plutarch's  Life  of  Antony  relative  to  Timon,  and  not  on  the 
twenty-eighth  novel  of  the  first  volume  of  Painter's  Palace  of 
Pleasure;  because  he  is  there  merely  described  as  "  a  man- 
hater,  of  a  strange  and  beastly  nature,"  without  any  cause  as- 
signed ;  whereas  Plutarch  furnished  our  author  with  the  follow- 
ing hint  to  work  upon :  "  Antonius  forsook  the  citie,  and  com- 
panie  of  his  friendes, — saying,  that  he  would  lead  Timon's  life, 
because  he  had  the  like  wrong  offered  him,  that  was  offered  unto 
Timon;  andybr  the  unthankfulness  of  those  he  had  done  good 
unto,  and  whom  he  tooke  to  be  hisfriendes,  he  mas  angry  with  all 
men,  and  ivould  trust  no  man." 

To  the  manuscript  play  mentioned  by  Mr.  Steevens,  our  au- 
thor, I  have  no  doubt,  was  also  indebted  for  some  other  circum- 
stances. Here  he  found  the  faithful  steward,  the  banquet-scene, 
and  the  story  of  Timon's  being  possessed  of  great  sums  of  gold 
which  he  had  dug  up  in  the  woods  :  a  circumstance  which  he 
could  not  have  had  from  Lucian,  there  being  then  no  translation 
of  the  dialogue  that  relates  to  this  subject. 

Spon  says,  there  is  a  building  near  Athens,  yet  remaining, 
called  Timon 's  Tower. 

Timon  of  Athens  was  written,  I  imagine,  in  the  year  1610. 
See  An  Attempt  to  ascertain  the  Order  of  Shakspeare  s  Plays, 
Vol.  II.  MALONE. 


B  2 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Timon,  a  noble  Athenian. 

Lucius,          } 

Lucullus,        >  Lords,  and  Flatterers  of  Timon. 

Sempronius,  j 

Ventidius,  one  of  Timon' 's  false  Friends. 

Apemantus,  a  churlish  Philosopher. 

Alcibiades,  an  Athenian  General. 

Flavius,  Steward  to  Timon. 

Flaminius,  "J 

Lucilius,      >  Timon's  Servants. 

Servilius,     ) 

Caphis, 


Philotus, 
Titus, 


Servants  to  Timon's  Creditors. 


Lucius, 

Hortensius, 

Two  Servants  o/"Varro,  and  the  Servant  of  Isidore; 

two  qjfTimon's  Creditors. 
Cupid  and  Maskers.     Three  Strangers. 
Poet,  Painter,  Jeweller,  and  Merchant. 
An  old  Athenian.     A  Page.     A  Fool. 

Mistresses  to  Alcibiades. 


Other  Lords,  Senators,  Officers,  Soldiers,  Thieves, 
and  Attendants. 

SCENE,  Athens  ;  and  the  Woods  adjoining. 

1  Phrynia,~\  (or,  as  this  name  should  have  been  written  by 
Shakspeare,  Phryne,  )  was  an  Athenian  courtezan  so  exquisitely 
beautiful,  that  when  her  judges  were  proceeding  to  condemn  her 
for  numerous  and  enormous  offences,  a  sight  of  her  bosom 
(which,  as  we  learn  from  Quintilian,  had  been  artfully  denuded 
by  her  advocate,)  disarmed  the  court  of  its  severity,  and  secured 
her  life  from  the  sentence  of  the  law,  STEEVEN*. 


TIMON  OF  ATHENS. 


ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 

Athens.     A  Hall  in  Timon's  House. 

Enter  Poet,   Painter,   Jeweller,   Merchant,2  and 
Others,  at  several  Doors. 

POET.  Good  day,  sir.3 

PAIN.  I  am  glad  you  are  well. 

POET.  I  have  not  seen  you  long  ;  How  goes  the 
world  ? 

PAIN.  It  wears,  sir,  as  it  grows. 

POET.  Ay,  that's  well  known  : 

But  what  particular  rarity  ?4  what  strange, 

8  Jeweller,  Merchant,']      In  the  old  copy :   Enter  &c. 

Merchant  and  Mercer,  fyc.     STEEVENS. 

3  Poet.  Good  day,  sz'r.J    It  would  be  less  abrupt  to  begin  the 
play  thus : 

Poet.  Good  day. 

Pain.  Good  day,  sir :  /  am  glad  you  re  ivell.     FARMER. 

The  present  deficiency  in  the  metre  also  pleads  strongly  in 
behalf  of  the  supplemental  words  proposed  by  Dr.  Farmer. 

STEEVENS. 

4  But  tvhat  particular  rarity?  &c.]     I  cannot  but  think  that 
this  passage  is  at  present  in  confusion.    The  poet  asks  a  question, 
and  stays  not  for  an  answer,  nor  has  his  question  any  apparent 
drift  or  consequence.     I  would  range  the  passage  thus : 


6  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  i. 

Which  manifold  record  not  matches  ?  See, 
Magick  of  bounty  !  all  these  spirits  thy  power 
Hath  conjur'd  to  attend.     I  know  the  merchant. 

PAIN.  I  know  them  both  ;  t' other's  a  jeweller. 

MER.  O,  'tis  a  worthy  lord  ! 

JEW.  Nay,  that's  most  fix'd. 

MER.  A  most  incomparable  man ;  breath'd,  as  it 

were, 
To  an  untirable  and  continuate  goodness  :5 


Poet.  Ay,  that's  well  known. 
But  what  particular  rarity  ?  what  so  strange, 
That  manifold  record  not  matches  ? 
Pain.  See! 

Poet.  Magick  of  bounty  !  &c. 

It  may  not  be  improperly  observed  here,  that  as  there  is  only 
ene  copy  of  this  play,  no  help  can  be  had  from  collation,  and 
more  liberty  must  be  allowed  to  conjecture.  JOHNSON. 

Johnson  supposes  that  there  is  some  error  in  this  passage,  be- 
cause the  Poet  asks  a  question,  and  stays  not  for  an  answer ;  and 
therefore  suggests  a  new  arrangement  of  it.  But  there  is  nothing 
more  common  in  real  life  than  questions  asked  in  that  manner. 
And  with  respect  to  his  proposed  arrangement,  I  can  by  no  means 
approve  of  it ;  for  as  the  Poet  and  the  Painter  are  going  to  pay 
their  court  to  Timon,  it  would  be  strange  if  the  latter  should 
point  out  to  the  former,  as  a  particular  rarity,  which  manifold 
record  could  not  match,  a  merchant  and  a  jeweller,  who  came 
there  on  the  same  errand.  M.  MASON. 

The  Poet  is  led  by  what  the  Painter  has  said,  to  ask  whether 
any  thing  very  strange  and  unparalleled  had  lately  happened, 
without  any  expectation  that  any  such  had  happened ; — and  is 
prevented  from  waiting  for  an  answer  by  observing  so  many  con- 
jured by  Timon's  bounty  to  attend.  "  See,  Magick  of  bounty !" 
&c.  This  surely  is  very  natural.  MALONE. 

5  breath'd,  as  it  were, 

To  an  untirable  and  continuate  goodness :]     Breathed  is 
inured  by  constant  practice;  so  trained  as  not  to  be  wearied. 
To  breathe,  a  horse,  is  to  exercise  him  for  the  course.     JOHNSON. 
So,  in  Hamlet  : 

"  It  is  the  breathing  time  of  day  with  me."     STEEVENS. 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  7 

He  passes.6 
JEW.  I  have  a  jewel  here.7 

MER.  O,  pray,  let's  see't :  For  the  lord  Timon, 

sir? 

JEW.  If  he  will  touch  the  estimate:8  But,  for 
that 

POET.  When  we  for  recompense9  have  prats' d  the 

vile, 

It  stains  the  glory  in  that  happy  verse 
Which  aptly  sings  the  good. 

MER.  'Tis  a  good  form. 

[Looking  at  the  Jewel. 

JEW.  And  rich :  here  is  a  water,  look  you. 

PAIN.  You  are  rapt,  sir,  in  some  work,  some  de- 
dication 
To  the  great  lord. 

continuate — ]     This   word   is  used  by   many  ancient 

English  writers.     Thus,  by  Chapman,   in  his  version  of  the 
fourth  Book  of  the  Odyssey  : 

"  Her  handmaids  join'd  in  a  continuate  yell." 
Again,  in  the  tenth  Book : 

" environ'd  round 

"  With  one  continuate  rock : — ."     STEEVENS. 

6  He  passes.]  i.  e.  exceeds,  goes  beyond  common  bounds.  So, 
in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor : 

"  Why  this  passes,  master  Ford."     STEEVENS. 

7  He  passes. 

I  have  a  jewel  here.~\     The  syllable  wanting  in  this  line, 
might  be  restored  by  reading — 

He  passes. — Look,  /  have  a  jewel  here.     STEEVENS. 

s  touch  the  estimate:']     Come  up  to  the  price. 

JOHNSON. 

9  When  we  for  recompense  &c.]  We  must  here  suppose  the 
Poet  busy  in  reading  in  his  own  work  ;  and  that  these  three  lines 
are  the  introduction  of  the  poem  addressed  to  Timon,  which  he 
afterwards  gives  the  Painter  an  account  of.  WARBURTON. 


8  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  i. 

POET.  A  thing  slipp'd  idly  from  me. 

Our  poesy  is  as  a  gum,  which  oozes1 
From  whence  'tis  nourished :  The  fire  i'the  flint 
Shows  not,  till  it  be  struck  ;  our  gentle  flame 
Provokes  itself,  and,  like  the  current,  flies 
Each  bound  it  chafes.2     What  have  you  there  ? 


1  , which  oozes — ]     The  folio  copy  reads — which  uses. 

The  modern  editors  have  given  it — which  issues.     JOHNSON. 

Gum  and  issues  were  inserted  by  Mr.  Pope ;  oozes  by  Dr. 
Johnson.  MALONE. 

The  two  oldest  copies  read — 

Our  poesie  is  as  a  gowne  which  uses.     STEEVENS. 

*  and,  like  a  current,  Jlies 

Each  bound  it  chafes.]     Thus  the  folio  reads,  and  rightly. 
In  later  editions — chases.     WARBURTON. 

This  speech  of  the  Poet  is  very  obscure.  He  seems  to  boast 
the  copiousness  and  facility  of  his  vein,  by  declaring  that  verses 
drop  from  a  poet  as  gums  from  odoriferous  trees,  and  that  his 
flame  kindles  itself  without  the  violence  necessary  to  elicit 
sparkles  from  the  flint.  What  follows  next  ?  that  it,  like  a  cur- 
rent, Jlies  each  bound  it  chafes.  This  may  mean,  that  it  expands 
itself  notwithstanding  all  obstructions ;  but  the  images  in  the 
comparison  are  so  ill  sorted, and  the  effect  so  obscurely  expressed, 
that  I  cannot  but  think  something  omitted  that  connected  the  last 
sentence  with  the  former.  It  is  well  known  that  the  players 
often  shorten  speeches  to  quicken  the  representation :  and  it 
may  be  suspected,  that  they  sometimes  performed  their  ampu- 
tations with  more  haste  than  judgment.  JOHNSON. 

Perhaps  the  sense  is,  that  having  touched  on  one  subject,  it  Jlies 
off  in  quest  of 'another.  The  old  copy  seems  to  read — 

Each  bound  it  chases. 

The  letters^/ andy  are  not  always  to  be  distinguished  from  each 
other,  especially  when  the  types  have  been  much  worn,  as  in 
the  first  folio.  If  chases  be  the  true  reading,  it  is  best  explained 
by  the  "  — se  sequiturque  fagitque — "  of  the  Roman  poet. 
Somewhat  similar  occurs  in  The  Tempest  : 

"  Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune,  and  dojly  him 

"  When  he  pursues."     STEEVENS. 

The  obscurity  of  this  passage  arises  merely  from  the  mistake 
of  the  editors,  who  have  joined  in  one,  what  was  intended  by 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  9 

PAIN.  A  picture,  sir. — And  when  comes  your 
book  forth?3 

POET.  Upon  the  heels*  of  my  presentment,5  sir. 
Let's  see  your  piece. 

PAIN.  JTis  a  good  piece.6 


Shakspeare  as   two  distinct  sentences. — It  should  be  pointed 
thus,  and  then  the  sense  will  be  evident: 

our  gentle  Jlame 

Provokes  itself,  and  like  the  current  flies ; 

Each  bound  it  chafes. 

Our  gentle  flame  animates  itself;  it  flies  like  a  current;  and 
every  obstacle  serves  but  to  increase  its  force.  M.  MASON. 

In  Julius  Ccesar  we  have — 

"  The  troubled  Tiber  chafing  with  her  shores, — ." 
Again,  in  The  Legend  of  Pierce  Gaveston,  b}^  Michael  Drayton, 
1594: 

"  Like  as  the  ocean,  chafing  with  his  bounds, 
"  With  raging  billowesjfo'es  against  the  rocks, 
"  And  to  the  shore  sends  forth  his  hideous  sounds,"  &c. 

MALONE. 

This  jumble  of  incongruous  images,  seems  to  have  been  de- 
signed, and  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  Poetaster,  that  the  reader 
might  appreciate  his  talents  :  his  language  therefore  should  not 
be  considered  in  the  abstract.  HENLEY. 

3 And  when  comes  your  book  forth  f]     And  was  supplied 

by  Sir  T.  Hanmer,  to  perfect  the  measure.     STEEVENS. 

4  Upon  the  heels  &c.]  As  soon  as  my  book  has  been  presented 
to  lord  Timon.  JOHNSON. 


appear  to  have  been  all  Timons. 

"  I  did  determine  not  to  have  dedicated  my  play  to  any  body, 
because  forty  shillings  I  care  not  for,  and  above,  few  or  none 
will  bestow  on  these  matters."  Preface  to  A  Woman  is  a  Wea- 
thercock, by  N.  Field,  1612.  STEEVENS. 

It  should,  however,  be  remembered,  that  forty  shillings  at  that 
time  were  equal  to  at  least  six,  perhaps  eight,  pounds  at  this 
day.  MALONE. 

'  'Tis  a  good  piece.  ~]    As  the  metre  is  here  defective,  it  is  not 
improbable  that  our  author  originally  wrote — 
'  Tis  a  good  piece,  indeed. 


10  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  i. 

POET.  So  'tis:  this  comes  off  well  and  excellent.7 
PAIN.  Indifferent. 

POET.  Admirable  :  How  this  grace 

Speaks  his  own  standing!8  what  a  mental  power 

So,  in  The  Winter's  Tale: 

"  Tis  grace  indeed"     STEEVENS. 

7 this  comes  off  well  and  excellent.']      The  meaning  is, 

the  figure  rises  well  from  the  canvas.     C'est  lien  releve. 

JOHNSON. 

What  is  meant  by  this  term  of  applause  I  do  not  exactly 
know.  It  occurs  again  in  The  Widow,  by  Ben  Jonson,  Fletcher, 
and  Middleton : 

"  It  comes  o^very  fair  yet." 

Again,  in  A  Trick  to  catch  the  Old  One,  1608  :  "  Put  a  good 
tale  in  his  ear,  so  that  it  comes  off  cleanly,  and  there's  a  horse 
and  man  for  us.  I  warrant  thee.'  Again,  in  the  first  part  of 
Marston's  Antonio  and  Mellida : 

"  Fla.  Faith,  the  song  will  seem  to  come  o^hardly. 

"  Catz.  Troth,  not  a  whit,  if  you  seem   to  come  ojf 
quickly."     STEEVENS. 

s How  this  grace 

Speaks  his  own  standing!]  This  relates  to  the  attitude  of 
the  figure,  and  means  that  it  stands  judiciously  on  its  own  cen- 
tre. And  not  only  so,  but  that  it  has  a  graceful  standing  like- 
wise. Of  which  the  poet  in  Hamlet,  speaking  of  another  picture, 
says : 

"  A  station,  like  the  herald  Mercury, 

"  New-lighted  on  a  heaven-kissing  hill." 

which  lines  Milton  seems  to  have  had  in  view,  where  he  says  of 
Raphael : 

"  At  once  on  th'  eastern  cliff"  of  Paradise 

"  He  lights,  and  to  his  proper  shape  returns. 

" Like  Maia's  son  he  stood."    WARBURTON. 

This  sentence  seems  to  me  obscure,  and,  however  explained, 
not  very  forcible.  This  grace  speaks  his  own  standing,  is  only, 
The  gracefulness  of  this  figure  show  how  it  stands.  I  am  inclined 
to  think  something  corrupted.  It  would  be  more  natural  and 
clear  thus : 

Hotv  this  standing 

Speaks  his  own  graces  ! 

How  this  posture  displays  its  own  gracefulness.  But  I  will  in- 
dulge conjecture  further,  and  propose  to  read : 


sc.i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  11 

This  eye  shoots  forth !  how  big  imagination 
Moves  in  this  lip  !  to  the  dumbness  of  the  gesture 
One  might  interpret.9 

PAIN.  It  is  a  pretty  mocking  of  the  life. 
Here  is  a  touch ;  Is't  good? 

POET.  I'll  say  of  it, 

HOIK  this  grace 

Speaks  understanding!  what  a  mental  power 
This  eye  shoots  forth  !     JOHNSON. 

The  passage,  to  my  apprehension  at  least,  speaks  its  own  mean- 
ing* which  is,  how  the  graceful  attitude  of  this  figure  proclaims 
that  it  stands  firm  on  its  centre,  or  gives  evidence  in  favour  of 
its  own  fixure.  Grace  is  introduced  as  bearing  witness  to  pro- 
priety. A  similar  expression  occurs  in  Cymbeline,  Act  II.  sc.  iv : 

" never  saw  I  figures 

"  So  likely  to  report  themselves"     STEEVENS. 

I  cannot  reconcile  myself  to  Johnson's  or  Warburton's  expla- 
nations of  this  passage,  which  are  such  as  the  words  cannot  pos- 
sibly imply.  I  am  rather  inclined  to  suppose,  that  the  figure 
alluded  to  was  a  representation  of  one  of  the  Graces,  and,  as 
they  are  always  supposed  to  be  females,  should  read  the  passage 
thus : 

How  this  Grace  (with  a  capital  G) 

Speaks  its  own  standing  ! 

This  slight  alteration  removes  every  difficulty,  for  Steevens's  ex-« 
planation  of  the  latter  words  is  clearly  right ;  and  there  is  sureljr 
but  little  difference  between  its  and  his  in  the  trace  of  th  e 
letters. 

This  amendment  is  strongly  supported  by  the  pronoun  thi  s, 
prefixed  to  the  word  Grace,  as  it  proves  that  what  the  Po  et 
pointed  out  was  some  real  object,  not  merely  an  abstract  idea- 

M.  MASO.K. 

•to  the  dumbness  of  the  gesture 


One  might  interpret.]  The  figure,  though  dumb,  seems  to 
have  a  capacity  of  speech.  The  allusion  is  to  the  puppet-sho  tvs, 
or  motions,  as  they  were  termed  in  our  author's  time.  The  per- 
son who  spoke  for  the  puppets  was  called  an  interpreter.  S  ee  a 
note  on  Hamlet,  Act  III.  sc.  v.  MA  LONE. 

Rather — one  might  venture  to  supply  words  to  such  intelligi- 
ble action.  Such  significant  gesture  ascertains  the  sentinaents 
that  should  accompany  it.  STEEVENS. 


12  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  i. 

It  tutors  nature  :  artificial  strife1 
Lives  in  these  touches,  livelier  than  life. 

Enter  certain  Senators,  and  pass  over. 

PAIN.  How  this  lord's  followed  ! 

POET.  The  senators  of  Athens : — Happy  men  !2 

1 artificial  strife — ]      Strife  for  action  or  motion. 

WARBURTON. 
Strife  is  either  the  contest  of  art  with  nature  : 

"  Hie  ille  est  Raphael,  timuit,  quo  sospite  vinci 
"  Rerum  magna  parens,  &  moriente  mori." 
or  it  is  the  contrast  of  forms  or  opposition  of  colours.     JOHNSON. 

So,  under  the  print  of  Noah  Bridges,  by  Faithorne : 
"  Faithorne,  with  nature  at  a  noble  strife, 
"  Hath  paid  the  author  a  great  share  of  life."  &c. 

STEEVENS. 

And  Ben  Jonson,  on  the  head  of  Shakspeare  by  Droeshout : 
"  This  figure  which  thou  here  seest  put, 
"  It  was  for  gentle  Shakspeare  cut : 
"  Wherein  the  graver  had  a  strife 
"  With  nature,  to  out-doo  the  life"     HENLEY. 

That  artificial  strife  means,  as  Dr.  Johnson  has  explained  it, 
the  contest  of  art  with  nature,  and  not  the  contrast  of  forms  or 
opposition  of  colours,  may  appear  from  our  author's  Venus  and 
Adonis,  where  the  same  thought  is  more  clearly  expressed : 
"  Look,  when  a  painter  would  surpass  the  life, 
"  In  limning  out  a  well-proportion'd  steed, 
"  His  art  with  nature's  workmanship  at  strife, 
"  As  if  the  dead  the  living  should  exceed ; 
"  So  did  this  horse  excell,"  &c. 

In  Dray  ton's  Mortimeriadox,  printed  I  believe  in  1596,  (after- 
wards entitled  The  Barons'  Wars,]  there  are  two  lines  nearly 
resembling  these : 

"  Done  for  the  last  with  such  exceeding  life, 

"  As  art  therein  with  nature  were  at  strife."     MALONE. 

9 Happy  men!]     Mr.  Theobald  reads — happy  man;  and 

certainly  the  emendation  is  sufficiently  plausible,  though  the  old 
reading  may  well  stand.     MALONE. 

The  text  is  right.     The  Poet  envies  or  admires  the  felicity  of 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  13 

PAIN.  Look,  more ! 

POET.  You  see  this  confluence,  this  great  flood 

of  visitors.3 

I  have,  in  this  rough  work,  shap'd  out  a  man, 
Whom  this  beneath  world4  doth  embrace  and  hug 
With  amplest  entertainment :  My  free  drift 
Halts  not  particularly,5  but  moves  itself 
In  a  wide  sea  of  wax  :6  no  levell'd  malice7 

the  senators  in  being  Timon's  friends,  and  familiarly  admitted  to 
his  table,  to  partake  of  his  good  cheer,  and  experience  the  ef- 
fects of  his  bounty.  RITSON. 

3 this  confluence,  this  great  flood  of  visitors."] 

Mane  salutantum  totis  vomit  cedibus  undam.     JOHNSON. 

4 this  beneath  world — ]      So,  in  Measure  for  Measure, 

we  have — "  This  under  generation ;"  and  in  King  Richard  II: 
"  — the  lower  world."  STEEVENS. 

5  Halts  not  particularly, ~\     My  design  does  not  stop  at  any 
single  character.     JOHNSON. 

6  In  a  wide  sea  of  wax:']     Anciently  they  wrote  upon  waxen 
tables  with  an  iron  style.     HANMER. 

I  once  thought  with  Sir  T.  Hanmer,  that  this  was  only  an 
allusion  to  the  Roman  practice  of  writing  with  a  style  ou  waxen 
tablets;  but  it  appears  that  the  same  custom  prevailed  in  Eng- 
land about  the  year  1395,  and  might  have  been  heard  of  by  Shak- 
speare.  It  seems  also  to  be  pointed  out  by  implication  in  many 
of  our  old  collegiate  establishments.  See  Warton's  History  of 
English  Poetry,  Vol.  III.  p.  151.  STEEVENS. 

Mr.  Astle  observes  in  his  very  ingenious  work  On  the  Origin 
and  Progress  of  Writing,  quarto,  1784-,  that  "  the  practice  of 
writing  on  table-books  covered  with  wax  was  not  entirely  laid 
aside  till  the  commencement  ofthefburteenth  century."  AsShak- 
speare,  I  believe,  was  not  a  very  profound  English  antiquary,  it 
is  surely  improbable  that  he  should  have  had  any  knowledge  of 
a  practice  which  had  been  disused  for  more  than  two  centuries 
before  he  was  born.  The  Roman  practice  li£  might  have  learned 
from  Golding's  translation  of  the  ninth  Book  of  Ovid's  Metamor- 
phoses : 

"  Her  right  hand  holds  the  pen,  her  left  doth  hold  the 
emptie  waxe,"  &c.     MALONE. 

7 no  levell'd  malice  &c.]     To  level  is  to  aim,  to  point 


14  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  i. 

Infects  one  comma  in  the  course  I  hold  ; 
But  flies  an  eagle  flight,  bold,  and  forth  on. 
Leaving  no  tract  behind. 

PAIN.  How  shall  I  understand  you  ? 

POET.  I'll  unbolt8  to  you, 

You  see  how  all  conditions,  how  all  minds, 
(As  well  of  glib  and  slippery  creatures,9  as 
Of  grave  and  austere  quality,)  tender  down 
Their  services  to  lord  Timon :  his  large  fortune, 
Upon  his  good  and  gracious  nature  hanging, 
Subdues  and  properties  to  his  love  and  tendance 
All  sorts  of  hearts ; l  yea,  from  the  glass-fac'd  flat- 
terer2 

To  Apemantus,  that  few  things  loves  better 
Than  to  abhor  himself:  even  he  drops  down 
The  knee  before  him,3  and  returns  in  peace 


the  shot  at  a  mark.  Shakspeare's  meaning  is,  my  poem  is  not 
a  satire  written  with  any  particular  view,  or  levelled  at  any  single 
person  ;  I  fly  like  an  eagle  into  the  general  expanse  of  life,  and 
leave  not,  by  any  private  mischief,  the  trace  of  my  passage. 

JOHNSON. 

8  Til  unbolt — ]     I'll  open,  I'll  explain.    JOHNSON. 

9 glib  and  slippery  creatures,']     Sir  T.  Hanmer,  and  Dr. 

Warburton  after  him,  read — natures.  Slippery  is  smooth,  un- 
resisting. JOHNSON. 

1  Subdues 

All  sorts  o/"hearts;]      So,  in  Othello: 
"  My  heart's  subdued 
"  Even  to  the  very  quality  of  my  lord."     STEEVENS. 

2 glass-fac'd  flatterer — ]     That  shows  in  his  look,  as  by 

reflection,  the  looks  of  his  patron.     JOHNSON. 

3 even  he  drops  down  &c.]     Either  Shakspeare  meant  to 

put  a  falsehood  into  the  mouth  of  his  Poet,  or  had  not  yet  tho- 
roughly planned  the  character  of  Apemantus;  for  in  the  ensuing 
scenes,  his  behaviour  is  as  cynical  to  Timon  as  to  his  followers. 

STEEVENS. 

The  Poet,  seeing   that  Apemantus   paid  frequent  visits  to 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  15 

Most  rich  in  Timon's  nod. 
PAIX.  I  saw  them  speak  together.4 

POET.  Sir,  I  have  upon  a  high  and  pleasant  hill, 
Feign' d  Fortune  to  be  thron'd :   The  base  o'the 

mount 

Is  rank'd  with  all  deserts,5  all  kind  of  natures, 
That  labour,  on  the  bosom  of  this  sphere 
To  propagate  their  states:6  amongst  them  all, 
Whose  eyes  are  on  this  sovereign  lady7  fix'd, 
One  do  I  personate  of  lord  Timon's  frame, 
Whom  Fortune  with  her  ivory  hand  wafts  to  her ; 
Whose  present  grace  to  present  slaves  and  servants 
Translates  his  rivals. 

PAIN.  JTis  conceiv'd  to  scope.8 

This  throne,  this  Fortune,  and  this  hill,  methinks, 
With  one  man  beckon'd  from  the  rest  below, 
Bowing  his  head  against  the  steepy  mount 


Timon,  naturally  concluded  that  he  was  equally  courteous  with 
his  other  guests.     RITSON. 

4  I  saiv  them  speak  together.]  The  word — together,  which  only 
serves  to  interrupt  the  measure,  is,  I  believe,  an  interpolation, 
being  occasionally  omitted  by  our  author,  as  unnecessary  to 
sense,  on  similar  occasions.  Thus,  in  Measure  for  Measure: 
"  — Bring  me  to  hear  them  speak ;"  i.  e.  to  speak  together,  to 
converse.  Again,  in  another  of  our  author's  plays :  "  When 
spoke  you  last  ?"  Nor  is  the  same  phraseology,  at  this  hour, 
out  of  use.  STEEVENS. 

s rank'd  'with  all  deserts,^     Cover' d  tvith  ranks  of  all 

kinds  of  men.     JOHN  SON. 

6  To  propagate  their  states  :~\  To  advance  or  improve  their 
various  conditions  of  life.  JOHNSON. 


Feign'd  Fortune  to  be  thron'd:- 


— on  this  sovereign  lady  &>c.~\     So,  in  The  Tempest: 

" bountiful  fortune, 

"  Now  my  dear  lady"  &c.     MALONE. 

conceived  to  scope."}     Properly  imagined,  appositely,  to 


the  purpose.     JOHNSON. 


16  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  i. 

To  climb  his  happiness,  would  be  well  express*  d 
In  our  condition.9 

POET.  Nay,  sir,  but  hear  me  on : 

All  those  which  were  his  fellows  but  of  late, 
(Some  better  than  his  value,)  on  the  moment 
Follow  his  strides,  his  lobbies  fill  with  tendance, 
Rain  sacrificial  whisperings  in  his  ear,1 
Make  sacred  even  his  stirrop,  and  through  him 
Drink  the  free  air.2 

9  In  our  condiPibn.]     Condition  for  art.     WARBURTON. 

1  Rain  sacrificial  whisperings  in  his  car,]  The  sense  is  obvious, 
and  means,  in  general,  flattering  him.  The  particular  kind  of 
flattery  may  be  collected  from  the  circumstance  of  its  being 
offered  up  in  whispers:  which  shows  it  was  the  calumniating 
those  whom  Timon  hated  or  envied,  or  whose  vices  were  opposite 
to  his  own.  This  offering  up,  to  the  person  flattered,  the  mur- 
dered reputation  of  others,  Shakspeare,  with  the  utmost  beauty 
of  thought  and  expression,  calls  sacrificial  whisperings,  alluding 
to  the  victims  offered  up  to  idols.  WARBURTON. 

Whisperings  attended  with  such  respect  and  veneration  as  ac- 
company sacrifices  to  the  gods.  Such,  I  suppose,  is  the  mean- 
ing. MALONE. 

By  sacrificial  tahisperingSy  I  should  simply  understand  whis- 
perings of  officious  servility,  the  incense  of  the  worshipping  pa- 
rasite to  the  patron  as  to  a  god.  These  whisperings  might  pro- 
bably immolate  reputations  for  the  most  part,  but  I  should  not 
reduce  the  epithet  in  question  to  that  notion  here.  Mr.  Gray  has 
excellently  expressed  in  his  Elegy  these  sacrificial  offerings  to 
the  great  from  the  poetick  tribe : 

"  To  heap  the  shrine  of  luxury  and  pride 
"  With  incense  kindled  at  the  muse's  flame." 

WAKEFIELD. 

9 through  him 

Drink  the  free  air.']     That  is,  catch  his  breath  in  affected 
fondness.     JOHNSON. 

A  similar  phrase  occurs  in  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his 
Humour;  "  By  this  air,  the  most  divine  tobacco  I  ever  drank!" 
To  drink,  in  both  these  instances,  signifies  to  inhale. 

STEEVENS. 


ac.  I.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  17 

PAIN.  Ay,  marry,  what  of  these  ? 

POET.  When  Fortune,  in  her  shift  and  change 

of  mood, 

Spurns  down  her  late  belov'd,  all  his  dependants, 
Which  labour*  d  after  him  to  the  mountain's  top, 
Even  on  their  knees  and  hands,  let  him  slip  down,3 
Not  one  accompanying  his  declining  foot. 

PAIN.  JTis  common : 
A  thousand  moral  paintings  I  can  show,4 
That  shall  demonstrate  these  quick  blows  of  for- 
tune5 


Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  appears  to  me  highly  unnatural  and 
unsatisfactory.  "  To  drink  the  air,"  like  the  haustus  cetherios 
of  Virgil,  is  merely  a  poetical  phrase  for  drain  the  air,  or  breathe. 
To  "  drink  the  free  air,"  therefore,  "  through  another,"  is  to 
breathe  freely  at  his  will  only ;  so  as  to  depend  on  him  for  the 
privilege  of  life :  not  even  to  breathe  freely  without  his  per- 
mission. WAKEFIELD. 

So,  in  our  author's  Venus  and  Adonis: 

"  His  nostrils  drink  the  air." 
Again,  in  The  Tempest: 

"  I  drink  the  air  before  me."     MALONE. 

3  let  him  slip  doivn,~\   The  old  copy  reads: 

•let  him  sit  down. 


The  emendation  was  made  by  Mr.  Rowe.     STEEVENS. 

*  A  thousand  moral  paintings  I  can  shoiv,~]  Shakspeare  seems 
to  intend  in  this  dialogue  to  express  some  competition  between 
the  two  great  arts  of  imitation.  Whatever  the  poet  declares 
himself  to  have  shown,  the  painter  thinks  he  could  have  shown 
better.  JOHNSON. 

5 these  quick  blows  of  fortune — ]  [  Old  copy— -fortune's — ] 

This  was  the  phraseology  of  Shakspcare's  time,  as  I  have  already 
observed  in  a  note  on  King  John,  Vol.  X.  p.  372,  n.  8.  The 
modern  editors  read,  more  elegantly, — of  fortune.  The  altera- 
tion was  first  made  in  the  second  folio,  from  ignorance  of  Shak- 
speare's  diction.  MALONE. 

Though  I  cannot  impute  such  a  correction  to  the  ignorance  of 
he  person  who  made  it,  I  can  easily  suppose  what  is  here  styled 
he  phraseology  of  Shakspeare,  to  be  only  the  mistake  of  a  vulgar 
VOL.  XIX.  C 


18  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  i. 

More  pregnantly  than  words.  Yet  you  do  well, 
To  show  lord  Timon,  that  mean  eyes6  have  seen 
The  foot  above  the  head. 

Trumpets  sound.     Enter  TIMON,  attended;  the  Ser- 
vant of  VENTIDIUS  talking  with  him. 

TIM.  Imprisoned  is  he,  say  you  ?7 

VEN.  SERV.  Ay,  my  good  lord :  five  talents  is  his 

debt; 

His  means  most  short,  his  creditors  most  strait : 
Your  honourable  letter  he  desires 
To  those  have  shut  him  up  ;  which  failing  to  him,8 
Periods  his  comfort.9 

TIM.  Noble  Ventidius !  Well ; 

transcriber  or  printer.  Had  our  author  been  constant  in  his  use 
of  this  mode  of  speech  (which  is  not  the  case)  the  propriety  of 
Mr.  Malone's  remark  would  have  been  readily  admitted. 

STEEVENS. 

0  mean  eyes — ]  i.  e.  inferior  spectators.  So,  in  Wotton's 

Letter  to  Bacon,  dated  March  the  last,  1613:  "Before  their 
majesties,  and  almost  as  many  other  meaner  eyes,"  &c. 

TOLLET. 

7  Imprisoned  is  he,  say  you  ?"]     Here  we  have  another  inter- 
polation destructive  to  the  metre.     Omitting — is  he,  we  ought 
to  read : 

Imprisoned,  say  you.     STEEVENS. 

8  ivhich  failing  to  him,]     Thus  the  second  folio.     The 

first  omits — to  him,  and  consequently  mutilates  the  verse. 

STEEVENS. 

9  Periods  his  comfort. ~\   To  period  is,  perhaps,  a  verb  of  Shak- 
speare's  introduction  into  the  English  language.     I  find  it,  how- 
ever, used  by  Heywood,  after  him,  in  A  Maidenhead  well  lost, 
1634 : 

"  How  easy  could  I  period  all  my  care." 
•  Again,  in  The  Country  Girl,  by  T.  B.  161-7 : 

"  To  period  our  vain-grievings."     STEKVEXS. 


«r.-/K  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  19 

I  aii)  net  of  that  feather,  to  shake  off 
My  friend  when  he  must  need  me.1  I  do  know  him 
A  gentleman,  that  well  deserves  a  help,  : 
Which  he  shall  have  :  I'll  pay  the  debt,  and  free 
him. 

VEN.  SERV.  Your  lordship  ever  binds  him. 

TIM.  Commend  me  to  him  :  I  will  send  his  ran- 

some  ; 

And,  being  enfranchised,  bid  him  come  to  me  :  — 
'Tis  not  enough  to  help  the  feeble  up, 
But  to  support  him  after.2  —  Fare  you  well. 

VEX.  SERV.  All  happiness  to  your  honour!3 


Enter  an  old  Athenian. 

OLD  ATH.  Lord  Timon,  hear  me  speak. 
TIM.  Freely,  good  father. 

OLD  ATH.  Thou  hast  a  servant  nam'd  Lucilius. 
TIM.  I  have  so  :  What  of  him  ? 


1  must  need  me.~]  i.  e.  when  he  is  compelled  to  have  need 

of  my  assistance ;  or,  as  Mr.  Malone  has  more  happily  explained 
the  phrase, — "  cannot  but  want  my  assistance.*'  STEEVENS. 

*  'Tis  not  enough  &c.]     This  thought  is  better  expressed  by 
Dr.  Madden  in  his  Elegy  on  Archbishop  Boulter: 

"  More  than  they  ask'd  he  gave ;  and  deem'd  it  mean 
"  Only  to  help  the  poor — to  beg  again."     JOHNSON. 

It  has  been  said  that  Dr.  Johnson  was  paid  ten  guineas  by 
Dr.  Madden  for  correcting  this  poem.     STEEVENS. 

3  your  honour!"]     The  common  address  to  a  lord  in  our 

author's  time,  was  your  honour,  which  was  indifferently  used 
with  your  lordship.  See  any  old  letter,  or  dedication  of  that 
age ;  and  Vol.  XIV.  p.  390,  where  a  Pursuivant,  speaking  to 
Lord  Hastings,  says, — "  I  thank  your  honour.1'  STEEVENS. 

C  2 


20  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  t. 

OLD  ATH.  Most  noble  Timon,  call  the  man  be- 
fore thee. 

TIM.  Attends  he  here,  or  no  ? — Lucilius ! 
Enter  LUCILIUS. 

Luc.  Here,  at  your  lordship's  service. 

OLD  ATH.  This  fellow  here,  lord  Timon,  this 

thy  creature, 

By  night  frequents  my  house.     I  am  a  man 
That  from  my  first  have  been  inclin'd  to  thrift ; 
And  my  estate  deserves  an  heir  more  rais'd, 
Than  one  which  holds^a  trencher. 

TIM.  Well ;  what  further  ? 

OLD  ATH.  One  only  daughter  have  I,  no  kin  else, 
On  whom  I  may  confer  what  I  have  got : 
The  maid  is  fair,  o'the  youngest  for  a  bride, 
And  I  have  bred  her  at  my  dearest  cost, 
In  qualities  of  the  best.     This  man  of  thine 
Attempts  her  love  :  I  pr'ythee,  noble  lord, 
Join  with  me  to  forbid  him  her  resort ; 
Myself  have  spoke  in  vain. 

TIM.  The  man  is  honest. 

OLD  ATH.  Therefore  he  will  be,  Timon  :4 


4  Therefore  he  will  be,  Timon  :~\  The  thought  is  closely  ex- 
pressed, and  obscure  :  but  this  seems  the  meaning :  "  If  the  man 
be  honest,  my  lord,  for  that  reason  he  will  be  so  in  this ;  and 
not  endeavour  at  the  injustice  of  gaining  my  daughter  without 
my  consent."  WARBU-RTON. 

I  rather  think  an  emendation  necessary,  and  read : 
Therefore  well  be  him,  Timon: 
His  honesty  rewards  him  in  itself. 

That  is,  "  If  he  is  honest,  benc  sit  illi,  I  wish  him  the  proper 
happiness  of  an  honest  man,  but  his  honesty  gives  him  no  claim 
to  my  daughter."  The  first  transcriber  probably  wrote— will  be 


sc.  I.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  21 

His  honesty  rewards  him  in  itself, 
It  must  not  bear  my  daughter.5 

TIM.  Does  she  love  him  ? 

OLD  ATH.  She  is  young,  and  apt : 
Our  own  precedent  passions  do  instruct  us 
What  levity's  in  youth. 

TIM.  [To  LuciLius.J  Love  you  the  maid? 
Luc.  Ay,  my  good  lord,  and  she  accepts  of  it. 

OLD  ATH.  If  in  her  marriage  my  consent  be 

missing, 
I  call  the  gods  to  witness,  I  will  choose 


with  him,  which  the  next,  not  understanding,  changed  to, — he 
will  be.    JOHNSON. 

I  think  Dr.  Warburton's  explanation  is  best,  because  it  exacts 
no  change.  So,  in  King  Henry  VIII: 

" May  he  continue 

"  Long  in  his  highness'  favour ;  and  do  justice 
"  For  truth's  sake  and  his  conscience" 

Again,  more  appositely,  in  Cymbeline: 

"  This  hath  been 

"  Your  faithful  servant :  I  dare  lay  mine  honour 

"  He  will  remain  so"     STEEVENS. 

Therefore  he  will  be,  Timon  :]  Therefore  he  will  continue  to 
be  so,  and  is  sure  of  being  sufficiently  rewarded  by  the  conscious- 
ness of  virtue ;  and  he  does  not  need  the  additional  blessing  of 
a  beautiful  and  accomplished  wife. 

It  has  been  objected,  I  forget  by  whom,  if  the  old  Athenian 
means  to  say  that  Lucilius  will  still  continue  to  be  virtuous,  what 
occasion  has  he  to  apply  to  Timon  to  interfere  relative  to  this 
marriage  ?  But  this  is  making  Shakspeare  write  by  the  card.  The 
words  mean  undoubtedly,  that  he  will  be  honest  in  his  general 
conduct  through  life ;  in  every  other  action  except  that  now 
complained  of.  MALONE. 

5 bear  my  daughter, ,1     A  similar  expression  occurs  in 

Othello: 

"  What  a  full  fortune  does  the  thick-lips  owe, 
"  If  he  can  carry  her  thus!"     STEEVENS, 


M  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  i. 

Mine  heir  from  forth  the  beggars  of  the  world, 
And  dispossess  her  all. 

TIM.  How  shall  she  be  endow'd, 

If  she  be  mated  with  an  equal  husband  ?6 

OLD  ATH.  Three  talents,  on  the  present;  in  fu- 
ture, all. 

TIM.  This  gentleman  of  mine  hath  seiVd  me 

long; 

To  build  his  fortunej  I  will  strain  a  little, 
For  'tis  a  bond  in  men.     Give  him  thy  daughter : 
What  you  bestow,  in  him  I'll  counterpoise, 
And  make  him  weigh  with  her. 

OLD  ATH.  Most  noble  lord, 

Pawn  me  to  this  your  honour,  she  is  his. 

TIM.  My  hand  to  thee ;   mine  honour  on  my 
promise. 

Luc.  Humbly  I  thank  your  lordship :  Never  may 
That  state  or  fortune  fall  into  my  keeping* 
Which  is  not  ow'd  to  you  !7 

\TLxeunt  LUCILIUS  and  old  Athenian. 


6  And  dispossess  her  all. 

Tim.  Hoiv  shall  she  be  endoivd, 

If  she  be  mated  luith  an  equal  husband  ?~\  The  players, 
those  avowed  enemies  to  even  a  common  ellipsis,  have  here  again 
disordered  the  metre  by  interpolation.  Will  a  single  idea  of  our 
author's  have  been  lost,  if,  omitting  the  useless  and  repeated 
words — she  be,  we  should  regulate  the  passage  thus : 

Ho"w  shall  she  be 
Endo'vad,  if  mated  ivith  an  equal  husband  f 

STEEVENS. 


•  Never  may 


ij 

That  state  or  fortune  Jail  into  my  keeping, 

Which  is  not  ow'd  to  you  /]  The  meaning  is,  let  me  never 
henceforth  consider  any  thing  that  I  possess,  but  as  owed  or  due 
to  you ;  held  for  your  service,  and  at  your  disposal.  JOHNSON. 

So  Lady  Macbeth  says  to  Duncan : 


so.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  23 

POET.  Vouchsafe  my  labour,  and  long  live  your 
lordship ! 

TIM.  I  thank  you;  you  shall  hear  from  me  anon  : 
Go  not  away. — What  have  you  there,  my  friend  ? 

PAIN.  A  piece  of  painting,  which  I  do  beseech 
Your  lordship  to  accept. 

TIM.  Painting  is  welcome. 

The  painting  is  almost  the  natural  man  ; 
For  since  dishonour  trafficks  with  man's  nature, 
He  is  but  outside  :  These  pencil' d  figures  are 
Even  sucli  as  they  give  out.8     I  like  your  work  j 
And  you  shall  find,  I  like  it :  wait  attendance 
Till  you  hear  further  from  me. 

PAIN.  The  gods  preserve  you ! 

TIM.  Well  fare  you,  gentlemen :  Give  me  your 

hand ; 

We  must  needs  dine  together. — Sir,  your  jewel 
Hath  suffer* d  under  praise. 

JEW.  What,  my  lord  ?  dispraise  ? 

TIM.  A  meer  satiety  of  commendations. 
If  I  should  pay  you  for't  as  'tis  extoll'd, 
It  would  unclew  me  quite.9 


"  Your  servants  ever 

"  Have  theirs,  themselves,  and  what  is  theirs,  in  compt, 
"  To  make  their  audit  at  your  highness'  pleasure, 
"  Still  to  return  your  mv«."     MALONE. 


pencil'd  figures  are 


Even  such  as  they  give  out.]     Pictures  have  no  hypocrisy ; 
they  are  what  they  profess  to  be.     JOHNSON. 

9  unclew  me  quite."]     To  unclew  is  to  unwind  a  ball  of 

thread.     To  unclew  a  man,  is  to  draw  out  the  whole  mass  of  his 
fortunes.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona: 


24  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  i. 

JEW.  .         My  lord,  'tis  rated 

As  those,  which  sell,  would  give :  But  you  well 

know, 

Things  of  like  value,  differing  in  the  owners, 
Are  prized  by  their  masters  : '  believe't,  dear  lord, 
You  mend  the  jewel  by  wearing  it.2 

TIM.  Well  mock'd. 

MER.  No,  my  good  lord  ;  he  speaks  the  common 

tongue, 
Which  all  men  speak  with  him. 

TIM.  Look,  who  comes  here.   Will  you  be  chid  ? 

Enter  APEMANTUS.S 

JEW.  We  will  bear,  with  your  lordship. 

MER.  He'll  spare  none, 

TIM.  Good  morrow  to  thee,  gentle  Apemantus ! 

APEM.  Till  I  be  gentle,  stay  for4  thy  good  mor- 
row ; 


"  Therefore  as  you  unwind  her  love  from  him, — 
"  You  must  provide  to  bottom  it  on  me." 
See  Vol.  IV.  p.  259,  n.  8.     STEEVENS. 

1  Are  prized  by  their  master  K:~]     Are  rated  according  to  the 
esteem  in  which  their  possessor  is  held.     JOHNSON. 

*  by  wearing  it.^\   Old  copy — by  the  wearing  it. 

STEEVENS. 

3  Enter  Apemantus.]      See  this  character  of  a  cynick  finely 
drawn  by  Lucian,  in  his  Auction  of  the  Philosophers;  and  how 
well  Shakspeare  has  copied  it.     WARBURTON. 

4  stay  for — ]    Old  copy — stay  t\\o\\for —     With   Sir 

T.  Hanmer  I  have  omitted  the  useless  thou,  (which  the  compo- 
sitor's eye  might  have  caught  from  the  following  line, )  because 
it  disorders  the  metre.     STEEVENS. 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  25 

When  thou  art  Timon's  dog,5  and  these  knaves 
honest. 

TIM.  Why  dost  thou  call  them  knaves?  thou 
know'st  them  not. 

APEM.  Are  they  not  Athenians?6 
TIM.  Yes. 

APEM.  Then  I  repent  not. 
JEW.  You  know  me,  Apemantus. 

APEM.  Thou  knowest,  I  do ;  I  call'd  thee  by 
thy  name. 

TIM.  Thou  art  proud,  Apemantus. 

APEM.  Of  nothing  so  much,  as  that  I  am  not 
like  Timon. 


5  When  thou  art  Timon's  dog,~]  When  thou  hast  gotten  a 
better  character,  and  instead  of  being  Timon  as  thou  art,  shalt 
be  changed  to  Timon's  dog,  and  become  more  worthy  kindness 
and  salutation.  JOHNSON. 

This  is  spoken  SSIKTIKUJC,  as  Mr.  Upton  says,  somewhere: — 
striking  his  hand  on  his  breast. 

"  Wot  you  who  named  me  first  the  kinge's  dogge?"  says 
Aristippus  in  Damon  and  Pythias.  FARMER. 

Apemantus,  I  think,  means  to  say,  that  Timon  is  not  to  re- 
ceive a  gentle  good  morrow  from  him  till  that  shall  happen  which 
never  will  happen;  till  Timon  is  transformed  to  tlje  shape  of  his 
dog,  and  his  knavish  followers  become  honest  men.  Stay  for 
thy  good  morrow,  says  he,  till  I  be  gentle,  which  will  happen  at 
the  same  time  when  thou  art  Timon's  dog,  &c.  i.  e.  never. 

MALONE. 

Mr.  Malone  has  justly  explained  the  drift  of  Apemantus.  Such 
another  reply  occurs  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  where  Ulysses, 
desirous  to  avoid  a  kiss  from  Cressida,  says  to  her;  give  me  one — 
"  When  Helen  is  a  maid  again,"  &c.     STEEVENS. 

6  Are  they  not  Athenians?']  The  very  imperfect  state  in  which 
the  ancient  copy  of  this  play  has  reached  us,  leaves  a  doubt  whe- 
ther several  short  speeches  in  the  present  scene  were  designed 
for  verse  or  prose.  I  have  therefore  made  no  attempt  at  regu- 
lation. STEEVENS. 


26  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          AC?  i. 

TlM.  Whither  art  going  ? 

APEM.  To  knock  out  an  honest  Athenian's  brains. 

TIM.  That's  a  deed  thou'lt  die  for. 

APEM.  Right,  if  doing  nothing  be  death  by  the 
law. 

TIM.  How  likest  thou  this  picture,  Apemantus? 

APEM.  The  best,  for  the  innocence. 

TIM.  Wrought  he  not  well,  that  painted  it  ? 

APEM.  He  wrought  better,  that  made  thepainterj 
and  yet  he's  but  a  filthy  piece  of  work. 

PAIN.  You  are  a  dog.7 

APEM.  Thy  mother's  of  my  generation  :  What's 
she,  if  I  be  a  dog  ? 

TIM.  Wilt  dine  with  me,  Apemantus  ? 

APEM.  No  ;  I  eat  not  lords. 

TIM.  An  thou  should' st,  thou'dst  anger  ladies. 

APEM.  O,  they  eat  lords  ;  so  they  come  by  great 
bellies. 

TIM.  That's  a  lascivious  apprehension. 

APEM.  So  thou  apprehend'st  it :  Take  it  for  thy 
labour. 

TIM.  How  dost  thou  like  this  jewel,  Apemantus? 

APEM.  Not  so  well  as  plain-dealing,8  which  will 
not  cost  a  man  a  doit-. 

TIM.  What  dost  thou  think  'tis  worth  ? 


7  Pain.   You  are  a  dog.~]     This  speech,  which  is  given  to  the 
Painter  in  the  old  editions,  in  the  modern  ones  must  have  been 
transferred  to  the  Poet  by  mistake :  it  evidently  belongs  to  the 
former.     RITSON. 

8  Not  so  tvell  as  plain-dealing,']     Alluding  to  the  proverb: 
"  Plain  dealing  is  ajetvel,  but  they  that  use  it  die  beggars." 

STEEVENS. 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  27 

APEM.  Not  worth  my  thinking. — How  now, 
poet? 

POET.  How  now,  philosopher  ? 

APEM.  Thou  liest. 

POET.  Art  not  one  ? 

APEM.  Yes. 

POET.  Then  I  lie  not. 

APEM.  Art  not  a  poet  ? 

POET.  Yes. 

APEM.  Then  thou  liest :  look  in  thy  last  work, 
where  thou  hast  feign'd  him  a  worthy  fellow. 

POET.  That's  not  feign'd,  he  is  so. 

APEM.  Yes,  he  is  worthy  of  thee,  and  to  pay 
thee  for  thy  labour :  He,  that  loves  to  be  flattered, 
is  worthy  o'the  flatterer.  Heavens,  that  I  were  a 
lord! 

TIM.  What  would'st  do  then,  Apemantus  ? 

APEM.  Even  as  Apemantus  does  now,  hate  a  lord 
with  my  heart. 

TIM.  What,  thyself? 
APEM.  Ay. 
TIM.  Wherefore  ? 

APEM.  That  I  had  no  angry  wit  to  be  a  lord.-' — 
Art  not  thou  a  merchant  ? 


9  That  I  had  no  angry  uit  to  be  a  lord.~]     This  reading  is  ab- 
surd, and  unintelligible.     But,  as  I  have  restored  the  text : 

That  I  had  so  hungry  a  wit  to  be  a  lord, 

it  is  satirical  enough  of  conscience,  viz.  I  would  hate  myself,  for 
having  no  more  wit  than  to  covet  so  insignificant  a  title.    In  the 
same  sense,  Shakspeare  uses  lean-fitted  in  his  King  Richard  If: 
"  And  thou  a  lunatick,  lean-witted  fool." 

WARBURTON. 

The  meaning  may  be, — I  should  hate  myself  for  patiently  en- 


28  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACTI. 

MER.  Ay,  Apemantus. 

APEM.  Traffick  confound  thee,  if  the  gods  will 
not! 

MER.  If  traffick  do  it,  the  gods  do  it. 

APEM.  Traffick's  thy  god,  and  thy  god  confound 
thee ! 


during  to  be  a  lord.  This  is  ill  enough  expressed.  Perhaps 
some  happy  change  may  set  it  right.  I  have  tried,  and  can  do 
nothing,  yet  I  cannot  heartily  concur  with  Dr.  Warburton. 

JOHNSON. 
Mr.  Heath  reads : 

That  I  had  so  wrong'd  my  ivit  to  be  a  lord. 
But  the  passage  before  us,  is,  in  my  opinion,  irremediably  cor- 
rupted.    STEEVENS. 

Perhaps  the  compositor  has  transposed  the  words,  and  they 
should  be  read  thus : 

Angry  that  I  had  no  tuit, — to  be  a  lord. 
Or, 

Angry  to  lie  a  lord, — that  I  had  no  ivit.     BLACKSTONE. 

Perhaps  we  should  read : 

That  I  had  an  angry  wish  to  be  a  lord; 

Meaning,  that  he  would  hate  himself  for  having  wished  in  his 
anger  to  become  a  lord. — For  it  is  in  anger  that  he  says : 
"  Heavens,  that  I  were  a  lord !"     M.  MASON. 

I  believe  Shakspeare  was  thinking  of  the  common  expression 
— he  has  wit  in  his  anger;  and  that  the  difficulty  arises  here,  as 
in  many  other  places,  from  the  original  editor's  paying  no  atten- 
tion to  abrupt  sentences.     Our  author,  I  suppose,  wrote  : 
That  I  had  no  angry  ivit. —  To  be  a  lord! 
Art  thou,  £c. 

Apemantus  is  asked,  why  after  having  wished  to  be  a  lord,  he 
should  hate  himself.  He  replies, — For  this  reason ;  that  I  had 
no  ivit  [or  discretion]  in  my  anger,  but  was  absurd  enough  to 
wish  myself  one  of  that  set  of  men,  whom  I  despise.  He  then 
exclaims  with  indignation — To  be  a  lord! — Such  is  my  conjec- 
ture, in  which  however  I  have  not  so  much  confidence  as  to  de- 
part from  the  mode  in  which  this  passage  has  been  hitherto  ex- 
hibited. MALONE. 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  29 


Trumpets  sound.    Enter  a  Servant. 

TIM.  What  trumpet's  that  ? 

SERF.  'Tis  Alcibiades,  and 

Some  twenty  horse,  all  of  companionship.1 

TIM.  Pray,  entertain  them  ;  give  them  guide  to 

us. —  \_Exeunt  some  Attendants. 

You  must  needs  dine  with  me : — Go  not  you  hence, 

Till  I  have  thank'd  you  ;  and,  when  dinner's  done,2 

Show  me  this  piece. — I  am  joyful  of  your  sights. — 


Enter  ALCIBIADES,  with  his  Company* 

Most  welcome,  sir !  {They  salute. 

APEM.  So,  so  ;  there  ! — 

Aches  contract  and  starve  your  supple  joints ! — 
That  there  should  be  small  love  'mongst  these 

sweet  knaves, 

And  all  this  court'sy !  The  strain  of  man's  bred  out 
Into  baboon  and  monkey.3 

ALCIB.  Sir,  you  have  sav'd  my  longing,  and  I  feed 
Most  hungrily  on  your  sight. 

TIM.  Right  welcome,  sir : 

1 all  of 'companionship. ,]     This  expression  does  not  mean 

barely  that  they  all  belong  to  one  company,  but  that  they  are  all 
such  as  Alcibiades  honours  with  his  acquaintance,  and  sets  on  a 
level  tvith  himself.  STEEVENS. 

* and,  tvhen  dinner's  done,~\     And,  which  is  wanting  in 

the  first  folio,  is  supplied  by  the  second.     STEEVENS. 


The  strain  of  man's  bred  out 


Into  baboon  and  monkey.']  Man  is  exhausted  and  degenerated  j 
his  strain  or  lineage  is  worn  down  into  a  monkey.     JOHNSON. 


30  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACTI. 

Ere  we  depart,4  we'll  share  a  bounteous  time 
In  different  pleasures.     Pray  you,  let  us  in. 

\_Exeunt  all  but  APEMANTUS. 


Enter  Two  Lords. 

1  LORD.  What  time  a  day  is't,  Apemantus  ? 
APEM.  Time  to  be  honest. 

1  LORD.  That  time  serves  still. 

APEM.  The  most  accursed  thou,5  that  still  omit'st 
it. 

2  LORD.  Thou  art  going  to  lord  Timon's  feast. 

APEM,:  Ay ;  to  see  meat  fill  knaves,  and  wine 
heat  fools. 

2  LORD.  Fare  thee  well,  fare  thee  well. 
APEM.  Thou  art  a  fool,  to  bid  me  farewell  twice. 
2  LORD.  Why,  Apemantus  ? 

APEM.  Shouldst  have  kept  one  to  thyself,  for  I 
mean  to  give  thee  none. 


4  Ere  lue  depart,]  Who  depart?  Though  Alcibiades  was  to 
leave  Timon,  Timon  was  not  to  depart.  Common  sense  favours 
my  emendation.  THEOBALD. 

Mr.  Theobald  proposes — do  part.  Common  sense  may  favour 
it,  but  an  acquaintance  with  the  language  of  Shakspeare  would 
not  have  been  quite  so  propitious  to  his  emendation.  Depart 
and  part  have  the  same  meaning.  So,  in  King  John  : 

"  Hath  willingly  departed  with  a  part." 

i.  e.  hath  willingly  parted  with  a  part  of  the  thing  in  question. 
See  Vol.  X.  p.  407,  n.  5.     STEEVENS. 

*  The  most  accursed  thou,"]     Read : 

The  more  accursed  thou, .     RITSON. 

So,  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  : 

**  The  more  degenerate  and  base  art  thou—." 

STEEVENS. 


sc.  r.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  Si 

1  LORD.  Hang  thyself. 

APEM.  No,  I  will  do  nothing  at  thy  bidding ; 
make  thy  requests  to  thy  friend. 

2  LORD.  Away,  unpeaceable  dog,  or  I'll  spurn 
thee  hence. 

APEM.  I  will  fly,  like  a  dog,  the  heels  of  the  ass. 

[Exit. 

1  LORD.  He's  opposite  to  humanity.  Come,  shall 

we  in, 

And  taste  lord  Timon's  bounty  ?  he  outgoes 
The  very  heart  of  kindness. 

2  LORD.  He  pours  it  out ;  Plutus,  the  god  of 

gold, 

Is  but  his  steward :  no  meed,6  but  he  repays 
Sevenfold  above  itself;  no  gift  to  him, 
But  breeds  the  giver  a  return  exceeding 
All  use  of  quittance.7 

1  LORD.  The  noblest  mind  he  carries, 
That  ever  governed,  man. 

2  LORD.  Long  may  he  live  in  fortunes !  Shall  we 

in? 

l  LORD.  I'll  keep  you  company.          [Exeunt* 

6 no  meed,]      Meed,  which  in  general  signifies  reward  or 

recompense,  in  this  place  seems  to  mean  desert.     So,  in  Hey- 
wood's  Silver  Age,  1613  : 

"  And  yet  thy  body  meeds  a  better  grave." 
i.  e.  deserves.    Again,  in  a  comedy  called  Look  about  you,  1600: 

"  Thou  shalt  be  rich  in  honour,  full  of  speed  ; 

"  Thou  shalt  win  foes  by  fear,  and  friends  by  meed" 
See  Vol.  XIV.  p.  49,  n.  6.     STEEVENS. 

7  All  use  of  quittance.^     i.  e.  all  the  customary  returns  made 
in  discharge  of  obligations.    WARBURTON. 


32  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  I. 

SCENE  II. 

The  same.     A  Room  of  State  in  Timon's  House. 

Hautboys  playing  loud  Mustek.  A  great  Banquet 
served  in;  FLAVIUS  and  others  attending;  then 
enter  TIMON,  ALCIBIADES,  Lucius,  LUCULLUS, 
SEMPRONIUS,  and  other  Athenian  Senators,  with 
VENTIDIUS,  and  Attendants.  Then  comes, dropping 
after  all,  APEMANTUS,  discontentedly* 

VEN.  Most  honoured  Timon,  Jt  hath  pleased  the 

gods  remember9 

My  father's  age,  and  call  him  to  long  peace. 
He  is  gone  happy,  and  has  left  me  rich : 
Then,  as  in  grateful  virtue  I  am  bound 
To  your  free  heart,  I  do  return  those  talents, 
Doubled,  with  thanks,  and  service,  from  whose  help 
I  deriv'd  liberty. 

TIM.  O,  by  no  means, 

Honest  Ventidius :  you  mistake  my  love  ; 
I  gave  it  freely  ever  ;  and  there's  none 

8 discontentedly, .]   The  ancient  stage-direction  adds — like 

/himself.     STEEVENS. 

9  Most  honoured  Timon,  't  hath  pleas'd  the  gods  remember — ] 
The  old  copy  reads — to  remember.  But  I  have  omitted,  for  the 
sake  of  metre,  and  in  conformity  to  our  author's  practice  on 
other  occasions,  the  adverb — to.  Thus,  in  Kino-  Henry  VIII. 
Act  IV.  sc.  ii.  Vol.  XV.  p.  166: 

" Patience,  is  that  letter 

"  I  caus'd  you  write,  yet  sent  away  ?" 

Every  one  must   be  aware  that  the  particle — to  was  purposely 
left  out,  before  the  verb — write.     STEEVENS. 


ac.  n.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  S3 

Can  truly  say,  he  gives,  if  he  receives : 

If  our  betters  play  at  that  game,  we  must  not  dare 

To  imitate  them  ;  Faults  that  are  rich,  are  fair.1 


1  If  our  letters  play  at  that  game,  ive  must  not  dare 

To  imitate  them;  Faults  that  are  rich,  are  fair. ~\  These 
two  lines  are  absurdly  given  to  Timon.  They  should  be  read 
thus: 

Tim.  If  our  letters  play  at  that  game,  tve  must  not. 

Apem.  Dare  to  imitate  them.     Faults  that  are  rich  are 

fair. 

This  is  said  satirically,  and  in  character.  It  was  a  sober  reflection 
in  Timon ;  who  by  our  letters  meant  the  gods,  which  require  to 
be  repaid  for  benefits  received  ;  but  it  would  be  impiety  in  men 
to  expect  the  same  observance  for  the  trifling  good  they  do. 
Apemantus,  agreeably  to  his  character,  perverts  this  sentiment; 
as  if  Timon  had  spoke  of  earthly  grandeur  and  potentates,  who 
expect  largest  returns  for  their  favours ;  and  therefore,  ironically 
replies  as  above.  WARBURTON. 

I  cannot  see  that  these  lines  are  more  proper  in  any  other 
mouth  than  Timon's,  to  whose  character  of  generosity  and  con- 
descension they  are  very  suitable.  To  suppose  that  by  our  letters 
are  meant  the  gods,  is  very  harsh,  because  to  imitate  the  gods 
has  been  hitherto  reckoned  the  highest  pitch  of  human  virtue. 
The  whole  is  a  trite  and  obvious  thought,  uttered  by  Timon  with 
a  kind  of  affected  modesty.  If  I  would  make  any  alteration,  it 
should  be  only  to  reform  the  numbers  thus : 

Our  letters  play  that  game ;  we  must  not  dare 
T' imitate  them:  faults  that  are  rich  are  fair. 

JOHNSON. 

The  faults  of  rich  persons,  and  which  contribute  to  the  in- 
crease of  riches,  wear  a  plausible  appearance,  and  as  the  world 
goes  are  thought  fair ;  but  they  are  faults  notwithstanding. 

HEATH. 

Dr.  Warburton  with  his  usual  love  of  innovation,  transfers  the 
last  word  of  the  first  of  these  lines,  and  the  whole  of  the  second 
to  Apemantus.  Mr.  Heath  has  justly  observed  that  this  cannot 
have  been  Shakspeare's  intention,  for  thus  Apemantus  would  be 
made  to  address  Timon  personally,  who  must  therefore  have  seen 
and  heard  him ;  whereas  it  appears  from  a  subsequent  speech 
that  Timon  had  not  yet  taken  notice  of  him,  as  he  salutes  him 
with  some  surprize — 

"  O,  Apemantus ! — you  are  welcome." 
VOL.  XIX.  D 


34  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  i. 

FEN.  A  noble  spirit. 

[They  all  stand  ceremoniously  looking  on 
TIMON. 

TIM.  Nay,  my  lords,  ceremony 

Was  but  devis'd  at  first,  to  set  a  gloss 
On  faint  deeds,  hollow  welcomes, 
Recanting  goodness,  sorry  ere  'tis  shown ; 
But  where  there  is  true  friendship,  there  needs  none. 
Pray,  sit ;  more  welcome  are  ye  to  my  fortunes, 
Than  my  fortunes  to  me.  [  They  sit. 

1  LORD.  My  lord,  we  always  have  confess'd  it. 

APEM.  Ho,  ho,  confess'd  it  ?  hang'd  it,  have  you 
not?2 

TIM.  O,  Apemantus ! — you  are  welcome. 

APEM.  No, 

You  shall  not  make  me  welcome : 
I  come  to  have  thee  thrust  me  out  of  doors. 

TIM.  Fye,  thou  art  a  churl ;  you  have  got  a 

humour  there 

Does  not  become  a  man,  'tis  much  to  blame : — 
They  say,  my  lords,  that3  ira  furor  brevis  est, 


The  term — our  betters,  being  used  by  the  inferior  classes  of 
men  when  they  speak  of  their  superiors  in  the  state,  Shakspeare 
uses  these  words,  with  his  usual  laxity,  to  express  persons  of  high 
rank  and  fortune.  MALONE. 

.  So,  in  King  Lear,  Act  III.  sc.  vi.  Edgar  says,  (referring  to- 
the  distracted  king)  : 

"  When  we  our  betters  see  bearing  our  woes, 

"  We  scarcely  think  our  miseries  our  foes."  STEEVENS. 

*  confess? d  it  ?  hang'd  it,  have  you  not  ?~]     There  seems 

to  be  some  allusion  here  to  a  common  proverbial  saying  of  Shak- 
speare's  time :  "  Confess  and  be  hang'd."  See  Othello,  Act  IV. 
sc.  i.  MALONE. 

3  They  say,  my  lords,  that — ]  That  was  inserted  by  Sir  T. 
Hanmer,  for  the  sake  of  metre.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  it.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  35 

But  yond'  man's  ever  angry.4 
Go,  let  him  have  a  table  by  himself; 
For  he  does  neither  affect  company, 
Nor  is  he  fit  for  it,  indeed. 

APEM.  Let  me  stay  at  thine  own  peril,5  Timon  j 
I  come  to  observe  ;  I  give  thee  warning  on't. 

TIM.  I  take  no  heed  of  thee  ;  thou  art  an  Athe- 
nian ;  therefore  welcome :  I  myself  would  have  no 
power:6  pr'ythee,  let  my  meat  make  thee  silent. 

4  But  yond'  man's  ever  angry."]  The  old  copy  has — very  angry; 
which  can  hardly  be  right.     The  emendation  now  adopted  was 
made  by  Mr.  Rowe.     MALONE. 

Perhaps  we  should  read — But  yon  man's  very  anger;  i.  e. 
anger  itself,  which  always  maintains  its  violence.  STEEVENS. 

5  at  thine  own  peril,]     The  old  copy  reads — at  thine 

apperil.     I  have  not  been  able  to  find  such  a  word  in  any  Dic- 
tionary, nor  is  it  reconcileable  to  etymology.     I  have  therefore 
adopted  an  emendation  made  by  Mr.  Steevens.     MALONE. 

Apperil,  the  reading  of  the  old  editions,  may  be  right,  though 
no  other  instance  of  it  has  been,  or  possibly  can  be  produced.  It 
is,  however,  in  actual  use  in  the  metropolis,  at  this  day. 

RITSON. 

6  /  myself  would  have  no  power:]     If  this  be  the  true 

reading,  the  sense  is, — all  Athenians  are  "welcome  to  share  my 

fortune :  I  would  myself  have  no  exclusive  right  or  power  in  this 
house.  Perhaps  we  might  read, — /  myself  would  have  no  poor. 
I  would  have  every  Athenian  consider  himself  as  joint  possessor 
of  my  fortune.  JOHNSON. 

I  understand  Timon's  meaning  to  be  :  /  myself  would  have  no 
power  to  make  thee  silent,  but  I  wish  thou  would'st  let  my  meat 
make  thee  silent.  Timon,  like  a  polite  landlord,  disclaims  all 
power  over  the  meanest  or  most  troublesome  of  his  guests. 

TYRWHITT. 

These  words  refer  to  what  follows,  not  to  that  which  precedes. 
/  claim  no  extraordinary  power  in  right  of  my  being  master  of  the 
house  :  I  wish  not  by  my  commands  to  impose  silence  on  any  one: 
but  though  I  myself  do  not  enjoin  you  to  silence,  let  my  meat  stop 
your  mouth.  MALONE. 

D  2 


36  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  I. 


*.  I  scorn  thy  meat  ;  'twould  choke  me,  for 

I  should 

Ne'er  flatter  thee.7  —  O  you  gods  !  what  a  number 
Of  men  eat  Timon,  and  he  sees  them  not  ! 
It  grieves  me,  to  see  so  many  dip  their  meat 
In  one  man's  blood  ;8  and  all  the  madness  is, 
He  cheers  them  up  too. 

I  wonder,  men  dare  trust  themselves  with  men  : 
Methinks,  they  should  invite  them  without  knives  ;9 
Good  for  their  meat,  and  safer  for  their  lives. 
There's  much  example  for't  ;  the  fellow,  that 
Sits  next  him  now,  partsbread  with  him,  and  pledges 
The  breath  of  him  in  undivided  draught, 
Is  the  readiest  man  to  kill  him  :  it  has  been  prov'd. 
If  I 

Were  a  huge  man,  I  should  fear  to  drink  at  meals  ; 
Lest  they  should  spy  my  windpipe's  dangerous 

notes  r1 
Great  men  should  drink  with  harness2  on  their 

throats. 

7  /  scorn  ihy  meat  ;  'twould  choke  me,  for  /  should 

Ne'er  fatter  thee."]  The  meaning  is,  —  I  could  not  swallow 
thy  meat,  tor  I  could  not  pay  for  it  with  flattery  ;  and  what  was 
given  me  with  an  ill  will  would  stick  in  my  throat.  JOHNSON. 

For  has  here  perhaps  the  signification  of  because.     So,  in 
Othello  : 

"  -  Haply,  for  I  am  black."     MALONE. 


•  50  many  dip  their  meat 


In  one  man's  blood;"]  The  allusion  is  to  a  pack  of  hounds 
trained  to  pursuit  by  being  gratified  with  the  blood  of  an  animal 
which  they  kill,  and  the  wonder  is  that  the  animal  on  which 
they  are  feeding  cheers  them  to  the  chase.  JOHNSON. 

9  Methinks,  they  should  invite  them  without  knives ;"]  It  was 
the  custom  in  our  author's  time  for  every  guest  to  bring  his  own 
knife,  which  he  occasionally  whetted  on  a  stone  that  hung  be- 
hind the  door.  One  of  these  whetstones  may  be  seen  in  Parkin- 
son's Museum.  They  were  strangers,  at  that  period,  to  the  use 
KIT  SON. 

"windpipe's  dangerous  notes :]     The  notes  of  the  wind- 


sc.  ii.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  37 

TIM.  My  lord,  in  heart  ;3  and  let  the  health  go 

round. 

2  LORD.  Let  it  flow  this  way,  my  good  lord. 
APEM.  Flow  this  way  ! 

A  brave  fellow ! — he  keeps  his  tides  well.    Timon, 
Those  healths4  will  make  thee,  and  thy  state,  look 
ill. 

pipe  seem  to  be  only  the  indications  which   show  where  the 
windpipe  is.    JOHNSON. 

Shakspeare  is  very  fond  of  making  use  of  musical  terms,  when 
he  is  speaking  of  the  human  body,  and  windpipe  and  notes  savour 
strongly  of  a  quibble.  STEEVENS. 

-  ivith  harness — ]    i.e.  armour.     See  Vol.  X.  p.  C25±, 

n.  6.     STEEVENS. 

3  My  lord,  in  heart;']  That  is,  my  lord's  health  with  sincerity, 
An  emendation  has  been  proposed  thus : 

My  love  in  heart ; 

but  it  is  not  necessary.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Chaucer's  Knightes  Tale,  2685 : 

"  And  was  all  his  in  chere,  as  his  in  herte." 
Again,  in  Sir  Amyas  Poulet's  letter  to  Sir  Francis  Walsingham, 
refusing  to  have  any  hand  in  the  assassination  of  Mary  Queen 

of  Scots  :  " he  [Sir  Drue  Drury]  forbeareth  to  make  any 

particular  answer,  but  subscribeth  in  heart  to  my  opinion." 
Again,  in  King  Henry  IV.  Part  I.  Act  IV.  sc.  i : 

" in  heart  desiring  still 

"  You  may  behold,"  &c. 
Again,  in  Loves  Labour  s  Lost,  Act  V.  sc.  ii : 

" Dost  thou  not  wish  in  heart, 

"  The  chain  were  longer,  and  the  letter  short?" 

STEEVENS. 
Timon, 


Those  healths — ~]  This  speech,  except  the  concluding  cou- 
plet, is  printed  as  prose  in  the  old  copy;  nor  could  it  be  exhibited 
as  verse  but  by  transferring  the  word  Timon,  which  follows — 
look  ill,  to  its  present  place.  The  transposition  was  made  by 
Mr.  Capell.  The  word  might  have  been  an  interlineation,  and 
so  have  been  misplaced.  Yet,  after  all,  I  suspect  many  of  the 
speeches  in  this  play,  which  the  modern  editors  have  exhibited 
in  a  loose  kind  of  metre,  were  intended  by  the  author  as  prose ; 
in  which  form  they  appear  in  the  old  copy.  MALONE. 


S8  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  i. 

Here's  that,  which  is  too  weak  to  be  a  sinner, 
Honest  water,  which  ne'er  left  man  i'the  mire : 
This,  and  my  food,  are  equals ;  there's  no  odds. 
Feasts  are  too  proud  to  give  thanks  to  the  gods. 

APEMANTUS'S  GRACE. 

Immortal  gods,  I  crave  no  pelf; 
I  pray  for  no  man,  but  myself: 
Grant  I  may  never  prove  so  fond, 
To  trust  man  on  his  oath  or  bond; 
Or  a  harlot,  for  her  weeping; 
Or  a  dog,  that  seems  a  sleeping  ; 
Or  a  keeper  with  my  freedom; 
Or  my  friends,  if  I  should  need  'em. 
Amen.     So  fall  to't: 
Rich  men  sinf  and  I  eat  root. 

\_Eats  and  drinks. 
Much  good  dich  thy  good  heart,  Apemantus ! 

TIM.  Captain  Alcibiades,  your  heart's  in  the  field 
now. 

ALCIB.  My  heart  is  ever  at  your  service,  my  lord. 

TIM.  You  had  rather  be  at  a  breakfast  of  ene- 
mies, than  a  dinner  of  friends. 

ALCIB.  So  they  were  bleeding-new,  my  lord, 
there's  no  meat  like  them  j  I  could  wish  my  best 
friend  at  such  a  feast. 

APEM.  'Would  all  those  flatterers  were  thine 
enemies  then ;  that  then  thou  might'st  kill  'em,  and 
bid  me  to  'em. 

1  LORD.  Might  we  but  have  that  happiness,  my 
lord,  that  you  would  once  use  our  hearts,  whereby 

*  Rich  men  sin,]  Dr.  Farmer  proposes  to  read— sing.    REED. 


sc.  if.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  39 

we  might  express  some  part  of  our  zeals,  we  should 
think  ourselves  for  ever  perfect.6 

TIM.  O,  no  doubt,  my  good  friends,  but  the  gods 
themselves  have  provided  that  I  shall  have  much 
help  from  you :  How  had  you  been  my  friends 
else  ?  why  have  you  that  charitable  title  from  thou- 
sands, did  you  not  chiefly  belong  to  my  heart  ?7  I 
have  told  more  of  you  to  myself,  than  you  can  with 
modesty  speak  in  your  own  behalf;  and  thus  far  I 
confirm  you.8  O,  you  gods,  think  I,  what  need 
we  have  any  friends,  if  we  should  never  have  need 
of  them  ?  they  were  the  most  needless  creatures 
living,  should  we  ne'er  have  use  for  them :  and9 
would  most  resemble  sweet  instruments  hung  up  in 
cases,  that  keep  their  sounds  to  themselves.  Why, 

-for  ever  perfect."]     That  is,  arrived  at  the  perfection 


of  happiness.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Macbeth: 

"  Then  comes  my  fit  again ;  I  had  else  been  perfect; — " 

STEEVENS. 

7  Hoiv  had  you  been  my  friends  else  ?  'why  have  you  that  cha- 
ritable title  from  thousands,  did  you  not  chiefly  belong  to  my 
heart  ?]    Charitable  signifies,  dear,  endearing.     So,  Milton : 

"  Relations  dear,  and  all  the  charities 

"  Of  father,  son,  and  brother ." 

Alms,  in  English,  are  called  charities,  and  from  thence  we  may 
collect  that  our  ancestors  knew  well  in  what  the  virtue  of  alms- 
giving consisted ;  not  in  the  act,  but  in  the  disposition. 

WARBURTON. 

The  meaning  is  probably  this : — Why  are  you  distinguished 
from  thousands  by  that  title  of  endearment,  was  there  not  a  par- 
ticular connection  and  intercourse  of  tenderness  between  you 
and  me  ?  JOHNSON. 

8  1  confirm  you.~]     I  fix  your  characters  firmly  in  my 

own  mind.     JOHNSON. 

9  they  were  the  moat  needless  creatures  living,  should  tee 

ne'er  have  use  for  them:  and — ]     This  passage  I  have  restored 
from  the  old  copy.     STEEVENS. 


40  T1MON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  i. 

I  have  often  wished  myself  poorer,  that  I  might 
come  nearer  to  you.  We  are  born  to  do  benefits : 
and  what  better  or  properer  can  we  call  our  own, 
than  the  riches  of  our  friends  ?  O,  what  a  precious 
comfort  'tis,  to  have  so  many,  like  brothers,  com- 
manding one  another's  fortunes !  O  joy,  e'en  made 
away  ere  it  can  be  born  ! l  Mine  eyes  cannot  hold 
out  water,  methinks:2  to  forget  their  faults,  I 
drink  to  you. 

APEM.  Thou  weepest  to  make  them  drink,3  Ti- 
mon. 

2  LORD.  Joy  had  the  like  conception  in  our  eyes, 
And,  at  that  instant,  like  a  babe4  sprung  up. 

1  O  joy,  een  made  away  ere  it  can  be  born!~\    Tears  being  the 
effect  both  of  joy  and  grief,  supplied  our  author  with  an  oppor- 
tunity of  conceit,  which  he  seldom  fails  to  indulge.     Timon, 
weeping  with  a  kind  of  tender  pleasure,  cries  out,  0  joy,  e'en 
made  away,  destroyed,   turned  to  tears,  before  it  can  be  born, 
before  it  can  be  fully  possessed.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet: 

"  These  violent  delights  have  violent  ends, 
"  And  in  their  triumphs  die." 
The  old  copy  has — -joys.     It  was  corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe. 

MALONE. 

2  Mine  eyes  cannot  hold  out  water,  methinks  .•]   In  the  original 
edition  the  words  stand  thus :  Mine  eyes  cannot  hold  out  water, 
methinks.    To  forget  their  faults,  I  drink  to  you.    Perhaps  the 
true  reading  is  this:    Mine  eyes  cannot  hold  out;  they  water. 
Methinks,  to  forget  their  faults,  I  will  drink  to  you.     Or  it  may 
be  explained  without  any  change.     Mine  eyes  cannot  hold  out 
water,  that  is,  cannot  keep  water  from  breaking  in  upon  them. 

JOHNSON. 

3  to  make  them  drink,']      Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads — to  make 

them  drink  tlice ;  and  is  followed  by  Dr.  Warburton,  I  think, 
without  sufficient  reason.     The  covert  sense  of  Apemantus  is, 
ivJiat  ihoii  lusest,  they  get.     JOHNSON. 

4  like  a  bale — J      That  is,  a  weeping  babe..     JOHNSON. 

I  question  if  Shakspeare  meant  the  propriety  of  allusion  to  be 
carried  quite  so  far.     To  look  for  babies  in  the  eyes  of  another, 


K.  ii.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  41 

APEM.  Ho,  ho !  I  laugh  to  think  that  babe  a 
bastard. 

3  LORD.  I  promise  you,  my  lord,  you  mov'd  me 
much. 

APEM.  Much!5  [Tucket sounded. 

TIM.  What  means  that  trump  ? — How  now  ? 

Enter  a  Servant. 

SERV.  Please  you,  my  lord,  there  are  certain 
ladies  most  desirous  of  admittance. 

is  no  uncommon  expression.  Thus,  among  the  anonymous  pieces 
in  Lord  Surrey's  Poems,  1557: 

"  In  eche  of  her  two  cristall  eyes 

"  Smileth  a  naked  boye." 
Again,  in  Love's  Mistress,  by  Heywood,  1636 : 

"  Joy'd  in  his  looks,  look'd  babies  in  his  eyes." 
Again,  in  The  Christian  turn'd  Turk,  1612:  "  She  makes  him 
sing  songs  to  her,  looks  fortunes  in  his  fists,  and  babies  in  his 
eyes." 

Again,  in  Churchyard's  Tragicatt  Discours  of  a  dolorous  Gen~ 
tleivoman,  1593: 

"  Men  will  not  lookefor  babes  in  hollow  eyen." 

STEEVENS. 

Does  not  Lucullus  dwell  on  Timon's  metaphor  by  referring 
to  circumstances  preceding  the  birth,  and  means  joy  was  con- 
ceived in  their  eyes,  and  sprung  up  there,  like  the  motion  of  a 
babe  in  the  womb  ?  TOLLET. 

The  word  conception,  in  the  preceding  line,  shows,  I  think, 
that  Mr.  Toilet's  interpretation  of  this  passage  is  the  true  one. 
We  have  a  similar  imagery  in  Troilus  and  Cressida  : 

" and,  almost  like  the  gods, 

"  Does  thoughts  unveil  in  their  dumb  cradles." 

MALONE. 

5  Much!']  Apcmantus  means  to  say, — That's  extraordinary. 
Much  was  formerly  an  expression  of  admiration.  See  Vol.  VIII. 
p.  150,  n.  8.  MALONE. 

Much !  is  frequently  used,  as  here,  ironically,  and  with  some, 
indication  of  contempt.  STEEVENS. 


42  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  i. 

TIM.  Ladies  ?  What  are  their  wills  ? 

SERV.  There  comes  with  them  a  forerunner, 
my  lord,  which  bears  that  office,  to  signify  their 
pleasures. 

TlM.  I  pray,  let  them  be  admitted. 


Enter  CUPID. 

CUP.  Hail  to  thee,  worthy  Timon; — and  to  all 
That  of  his  bounties  taste ! — The  five  best  senses 
Acknowledge  thee  their  patron ;  and  come  freely 
To  gratulate  thy  plenteous  bosom:  The  ear, 
Taste,  touch,  smell,  all  pleas'd  from  thy  table  rise;(i 
They  only  now  come  but  to  feast  thine  eyes. 

"  The  ear,  &c.]     In  former  copies — 

There  taste,  touch,  all  pleas'd  from  thy  table  rise, 

They  only  now . 

1\\efive  senses  are  talked  of  by  Cupid,  but  three  of  them  only 
are  made  out ;  and  those  in  a  very  heavy  unintelligible  manner. 
It  is  plain  therefore  we  should  read — 

Th'  ear,  taste,  touch,  smell,  pleas'd  from  thy  table  rise, 

These  only  notv  &c. 

i.  e.  the  five  senses,  Timon,  acknowledge  thee  their  patron ; 
four  of  them,  viz.  the  hearing,  taste,  touch,  and  smell,  are  all 
feasted  at  thy  board;  and  these  ladies  come  with  me  to  entertain 
your  sight  in  a  masque.  Massinger,  in  his  Duke  of  Millaine, 
copied  the  passage  from  Shakspeare;  and  apparently  before  it 
was  thus  corrupted ;  where,  speaking  of  a  banquet,  he  says — 

" All  that  may  be  had 

"  To  please  the  eye,  the  ear,  taste,  touch,  or  smell, 

"  Are  carefully  provided."     WARBURTON. 

Dr.  Warburton  and  the  subsequent  editors  omit  the  word — 
all;  but  omission  is  the  most  dangerous  mode  of  emendation. 
The  corrupted  word — There,  shows  that — The  ear  was  intended 
to  be  contracted  into  one  syllable;  and  table  also  was  probably 
used  as  taking  up  only  the  time  of  a  monosyllable.  MALONE. 

Perhaps  the  present  arrangement  of  the  foregoing  words,  ren- 
ders monosyllabification  needless.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  ii.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  43 

TIM.   They  are  welcome  all;    let  them   have 

kind  admittance : 
Musick,  make  their  welcome.7  [Exit  CUPID. 

1  LORD.  You  see,  my  lord,  how  ample  you  are 
belov'd. 

Musick.  Re-enter  CUPID,  with  a  masque  o/Ladies 
as  Amazons,  'with  Lutes  in  their  Hands,  dancing, 
and  playing. 

APEM.  Hey  day,  what  a  sweep  of  vanity  comes 

this  way ! 

They  dance  !8  they  are  mad  women. 
Like  madness  is  the  glory  of  this  life, 
As  this  pomp  shows  to  a  little  oil,  and  root.9 


7  Musick,  make  their  •welcome.']     Perhaps,  the  poet  wrote : 

Musick,  make  known  their  welcome. 
So,  in  Macbeth : 

"  We  will  require  her  welcome, — 

"  Pronounce  it  for  me,  sir,  to  all  our  friends." 

STEEVENS. 

8  They  dance!']   I  believe  They  dance  to  be  a  marginal  note 
only;  and  perhaps  we  should  read: 

These  are  mad  women.     TYRWHITT. 

They  dance !  they  are  mad  women.]  Shakspeare  seems  to  have 
borrowed  this  idea  from  the  puritanical  writers  of  his  own  time. 
Thus  in  Stubbes's  Anatomic  of  Abuses,  8vo.  1583:  "Dauncers 
thought  to  be  mad  men."  "  And  as  in  all  feasts  and  pastimes 
dauncing  is  the  last,  so  it  is  the  extream  of  all  other  vice :  And 
again,  there  were  (saith  Ludovicus  Vives)  from  far  countries 
certain  men  brought  into  our  parts  of  the  world,  who  when 
they  saw  men  daunce,  ran  away  marvelously  affraid,  crying  out 
and  thinking  them  to  have  been  mad,"  &c. 

Perhaps  the  thought  originated  from  the  following  passage 
from  Cicero  pro  Murena,  6:  "  Nemo  enim  fere  saltat  sobrius, 
nisi  forte  insanit."  STEEYEXS. 

9  Like  madness  is  the  glory  of  this  life, 

As  this  pomp  shows  to  a  little  oil,  and  root.~\    The  glory  of 
this  life  is  very  near  to  madness,  as  may  be  made  appear  from 


44  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  i. 

We  make  ourselves  fools,  to  disport  ourselves ; 
And  spend  our  flatteries,  to  drink  those  men, 
Upon  whose  age  we  void  it  up  again, 
With  poisonous  spite,  and  envy.     Who  lives,  that's 

not 

Depraved,  or  depraves  ?  who  dies,  that  bears 
Not  one  spurn  to  their  graves  of  their  friends'  gift?1 
I  should  fear,  those,  that  dance  before  me  now, 
Would  one  day  stamp  upon  me :  It  has  been  done ; 
Men  shut  their  doors  against  a  setting  sun. 

The  Lords  rise  from  Table,  with  much  adoring  of 
TIMON  ;  and,  to  show  their  loves,  each  singles  out 
an  Amazon,  and  all  dance,  Men  with  Women,  a 
lofty  Strain  or  two  to  the  Hautboys,  and  cease. 

TIM.  You  have  done  our  pleasures  much  grace, 

fair  ladies,2 

Set  a  fair  fashion  on  our  entertainment, 
Which  was  not  half  so  beautiful  and  kind ; 
You  have  added  worth  unto't,  and  lively  lustre,3 


this  pomp,  exhibited  in  a  place  where  a  philosopher  is  feeding  on 
oil  and  roots.  When  we  see  by  example  how  few  are  the  ne- 
^cessaries  of  life,  we  learn  what  madness  there  is  in  so  much  su- 
'perfluity.  JOHNSON. 

The  word  like  in  this  place  does  not  express  resemblance,  but 
equality.  Apemantus  does  not  mean  to  say  that  the  glory  of 
this  life  was  like  madness,  but  it  was  just  as  much  madness  in  the 
eye  of  reason,  as  the  pomp  appeared  to  be,  when  compared  to 
the  frugal  repast  of  a  philosopher.  M.  MASON. 

1 of  their  friends  gift  f~\     That  is,  given  them  by  their 

friends.     JOHNSON. 

2 fair  ladies,'}     I  should  wish  to  read,  for  the  sake  of 

metre— fairest  ladies.     Fair,  however,  may  be  here  used  as  a 
dissyllable.     STEEVENS. 

3 lively  lustre,^  For  the  epithet — lively,  we  are  indebted 

to  the  second  folio:  it  is  wanting  in  the  first.     STEEVENS. 


sc.  n.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  45 

And  entertain'd  me  with  mine  own  device  j4 
I  am  to  thank  you  for  it. 

1  LADY.  My  lord,5  you  take  us  even  at  the  best.fi 

APEM.  'Faith,  for  the  worst  is  filthy ;  and  would 
not  hold  taking,7  I  doubt  me. 

TIM.  Ladies,  there  is  an  idle  banquet 

4 mine  own  device  ;~]     The  mask  appears  to  have  been 

designed  by  Timon  to  surprize  his  guests.     JOHNSON. 

*  1  Lady.  My  lord,  &c.~]  In  the  old  copy  this  speech  is  given 
to  the  1  Lord.  I  have  ventured  to  change  it  to  the  1  Lady,  as 
Mr.  Edwards  and  Mr.  Heath,  as  well  as  Dr.  Johnson,  concur  in 
the  emendation.  STEEVENS. 

The  conjecture  of  Dr.  Johnson,  who  observes,  that  L  only 
was  probably  set  down  in  the  MS.  is  well  founded ;  for  that  ab- 
breviation is  used  in  the  old  copy  in  this  very  scene,  and  in  many 
other  places.  The  next  speech,  however  coarse  the  allusion 
couched  under  the  word  talcing  may  be,  put  the  matter  beyond 
a  doubt.  MALONE. 

6 even  at  the  lest."}     Perhaps  we  should  read : 

ever  at  the  best. 


So,  Act  III.  sc.  vi : 

"  Ever  at  the  best.''     TYRWHITT. 

Take  us  even  at  the  best,  I  believe,  means,  you  have  seen  the 
best  we  can  do.  They  are  supposed  to  be  hired  dancers,  and 
therefore  there  is  no  impropriety  in  such  a  confession.  Mr.  Ma- 
lone's  subsequent  explanation,  however,  pleases  me  better  than 
my  own.  STEEVENS. 

I  believe  the  meaning  is,  "  You  have  conceived  the  fairest  of 
us,"  (to  use  the  words  ofLucullus  in  a  subsequent  scene,)  you 
have  estimated  us  too  highly,  perhaps  above  our  deserts.  So,  in 
Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  VI.  c.  ix  : 

"  He  would  commend  his  guift,  and  make  the  Lest.1" 

MALONE. 

7 would  not  hold  taking,]     i.  e.  bear  handling,  words 

which  are  employed  to  the  same  purpose  in  King  Henry  IV. 
Part  II: 

"  A  rotten  case  abides  no  handling."     STEEVEX*. 


46  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  t. 

Attends  you:8  Please  you  to  dispose  yourselves* 
ALL  LAD.  Most  thankfully,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt  CUPID,  and  Ladies* 

TIM.  Flavins, 

FLAV.  My  lord. 

TIM.  The  little  casket  bring  me  hither. 

FLAV.  Yes,  my  lord. — More  jewels  yet ! 
There  is  no  crossing  him  in  his  humour  j 9  \_Aside* 
Else  I  should  tell  him, — Well, — i'faith,  I  should, 
Whenall's  spent,  he'd  be  cross'd  then,  an  he  could.1 
'Tis  pity,  bounty  had  not  eyes  behind;2 
That  man  might  ne'er  be  wretched  for  his  mind.3 
[Exit,  and  returns  'with  the  Casket. 


* there  is  an  idle  banquet 

Attends  you  :]  So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  : 

"  We  have  &  foolish  trifling  supper  towards." 

STEEVENS* 
9  There  is  no  crossing  him  in  his  humour  }~\   Read: 

There  is  no  crossing  him  in  this  his  humour.     RITSON. 

1 hed  be  cross'd  then,  an  he  could.~]     The  poet  does  not 

mean  here,  that  he  would  be  crossed  in  humour,  but  that  he 
would  have  his  hand  crossed  with  money,  if  he  could.  He  is 
playing  on  the  word,  and  alluding  to  our  old  silver  penny,  used 
before  King  Edward  the  First's  time,  which  had  a  cross  on  the 
reverse  with  a  crease,  that  it  might  be  more  easily  broke  into 
halves  and  quarters,  half-pence  and  farthings.  From  this  penny, 
and  other  pieces,  was  our  common  expression  derived, — /  have 
not  a  cross  about  me  ;  i.  e.  not  a  piece  of  money*  THEOBALD. 

So,  in  As  you  like  it :  "  — yet  I  should  bear  no  cross,  if  I 
did  bear  you ;  for,  I  think  you  have  no  money  in  your  purse." 

STEEVENS. 

The  poet  certainly  meant  this  equivoque,  but  one  of  the  senses 
intended  to  be  conveyed  was,  he  will  then  too  late  wish  that  it 
were  possible  to  undo  what  he  had  done :  he  will  in  vain  la- 
ment that  I  did  not  [cross  or]  thwart  him  in  his  career  of  prodi- 
gality. MA  LONE. 

2 had  not  eyes  behind ;  ~]     To  see  the  miseries  that  are 

following  her.    JOHNSON. 


sc.  ii.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  47 

1  LORD.  Where  be  our  men  ? 

SERF.  Here,  my  lord,  in  readiness. 

2  LORD.  Our  horses. 

TIM.  O  my  friends,  I  have  one  word 

To  say  to  you : — Look  you,  my  good  lord,  I  must 
Entreat  you,  honour  me  so  much,  as  to 
Advance  this  jewel;4 
Accept,  and5  wear  it,  kind  my  lord. 

1  LORD.  I  am  so  far  already  in  your  gifts, — 
ALL.  So  are  we  all. 

Enter  a  Servant, 

SERV.  My  lord,  there  are  certain  nobles  of  the 

senate 
Newly  alighted,  and  come  to  visit  you. 

TIM.  They  are  fairly  welcome. 

FLAV.  I  beseech  your  honour, 

Vouchsafe  me  a  word;  it  does  concern  you  near. 

TIM.  Near?  why  then  another  time  I'll  hear 
thee  : 

Persius  has  a  similar  idea,  Sat.  I : 

" cui  viverejas  est 

"  Occipiti  cseco."     STEEVENS. 

3 for  his  mind.~\     For  nobleness  of  soul.     JOHNSON. 

to 


Advance  this  jewel ;~]  To  prefer  it ;  to  raise  it  to  honour  by 
rearing  it.     JOHNSON. 

5  Accept,  and  Sfc.~]   Thus  the  second  folio.     The  first — unme- 
trically, — Accept  it .     STEEVENS. 

So,  the  Jeweller  says  in  the  preceding  scene : 

"  Things  of  like  value,  differing  in  the  owners, 

"  Are  prized  by  their  masters :  believe  it,  dear  lord, 

"  You  mend  the  jewel  by  wearing  it."     M.  MASON. 


48  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  r. 

I  pr'ythee,  let  us  be  provided6 
To  show  them  entertainment. 

FLAV,  I  scarce  know  how. 

[Aside. 


2  SERF.  May  it  please  your  honour,  the  lord 

Lucius, 

Out  of  his  free  love,  hath  presented  to  you 
Four  milk-white  horses,  trapp'd  in  silver. 

TIM.  I  shall  accept  them  fairly :  let  the  presents 

Enter  a  third  Servant. 

Be  worthily  entertain' d. — How  now,  what  news  ? 

3  SERV.  Please  you,  my  lord,  that  honourable 
gentleman,  lord  Lucullus,  entreats  your  company 
to-morrow  to  hunt  with  him ;  and  has  sent  your 
honour  two  brace  of  greyhounds. 

TIM.  I'll  hunt  with  him  ;  And  let  them  be  re- 

ceiv'd, 
Not  without  fair  reward. 

FLAV.  [Aside."]  What  will  this  come  to  ? 

He  commands  us  to  provide,  and  give  great  gifts, 
And  all  out  of  an  empty  coffer.7  — 

6  I  pr'ythee,  let  us  be  provided — ]     As  the  measure  is  here 
imperfect,   we  may  reasonably  suppose    our  author  to  have 
written : 

/  pr'ythee,  let  us  be  provided  straight — . 
So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Make  her  grave  straight'* 
i.  e.  immediately.     STEEVENS. 

7  And  all  out  of  an  empty  coffer. ~\     Read: 

And  all  the  while  out  of  an  empty  coffer.     RITSON. 


se.-ii:  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  49 

Nor  will  he  know  his  purse ;  or  yield  me  this, 
To  show  him  what  a  beggar  his  heart  is, 
Being  of  no  power  to  make  his  wishes  good ; 
His  promises  fly  so  beyond  his  state, 
That  what  he  speaks  is  all  in  debt,  he  owes 
For  every  word ;  he  is  so  kind,  that  he  now 
Pays  interest  for't ;  his  land's  put  to  their  books. 
Well,  'would  I  were  gently  put  out  of  office, 
Before  I  were  forc'd  out ! 
Happier  is  he  that  has  no  friend  to  feed, 
Than  such  as  do  even  enemies  exceed. 
I  bleed  inwardly  for  my  lord.  [Exit. 

TIM.  You  do  yourselves 

Much  wrong,  you  bate  too  much  of  your  own  me- 
rits : — 
Here,  my  lord,  a  trifle  of  our  love. 

2  LORD.  With  more  than  common  thanks  I  will 

receive  it. 

3  LORD.  O,  he  is  the  very  soul  of  bounty ! 

TIM.  And  now  I  remember  me,8  my  lord,  you 

gave 

Good  words  the  other  day  of  a  bay  courser 
I  rode  on  :  it  is  yours,  because  you  lik'd  it. 

2  LORD.  I  beseech  you,9  pardon  me,  my  lord, 
in  that. 


8 remember  me,]   I  have  added — me,  for  the  sake  of  the 

measure.     So,  in  King  Richard  III: 

"  I  do  remember  me, — Henry  the  sixth 
"  Did  prophecy ."     STEEVENS. 

9  I  beseech  you,~\     Old  copy,  unmetrically — 

O,  /  beseech  you, . 

The  player  editors  have  been  liberal  of  their  tragick  O's,  to  the 
frequent  injury  of  our  author's  measure.  For  the  same  reason 
I  have  expelled  this  exclamation  from  the  beginning  of  the  next 
speech  but  one.  STEEVENS. 


.50  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  i. 

TIM.  You  may  take  my  word,  my  lord ;  I  know, 

no  man 

Can  justly  praise,  but  what  he  does  affect : 
I  weigh  my  friend's  affection  with  mine  own  ; 
I'll  tell  you  true.1     I'll  call  on  you. 

ALL  LORDS.  None  so  welcome. 

TIM.  I  take  all  and  your  several  visitations 
So  kind  to  heart,  'tis  not  enough  to  give  ; 
Methinks,  I  could  deal  kingdoms2  to  my  friends, 
And  ne'er  be  weary. — Alcibiades, 
Thou  art  a  soldier,  therefore  seldom  rich, 
It  comes  in  charity  to  thee  :  for  all  thy  living 
Is  'mongst  the  dead ;  and  all  the  lands  thou  hast 
Lie  in  a  pitch'd  field. 

ALOIS.  Ay,  defiled  land,3  my  lord. 


1  I'll  tell  you  true.']  Dr.  Johnson  reads, — I  tell  you  &c.  in- 
which  he  has  been  heedlessly  followed :  for  though  the  change 
does  not  affect  the  sense  of  the  passage,  it  is  quite  unnecessary, 
as  may  be  proved  by  numerous  instances  in  our  author's 
dialogue.  Thus,  in  the  first  line  of  King  Henry  V : 

"  My  lord,  I'll  tell  you,  that  self  bill  is  urg'd ." 

Again,  in  King  John  : 

"  /'//  tell  thce,  Hubert,  half  my  power,  this  night — ." 

STEEVENS. 

z 'tis  not  enough  to  give; 

Methinks,  /  could  deal  kingdoms — ]  Thus  the  passage  stood 
in  all  the  editions  before  Sir  T.  Hanmer's,  who  restored — My 
thanks.  JOHNSON. 

I  have  displaced  the  words  inserted  by  Sir  T.  Hanmer.  What 
I  have  already  given,  says  Timon,  is  not  sufficient  on  the  oc- 
casion :  Methinks  I  could  deal  kingdoms,  i.  e.  could  dispense 
them  on  every  side  with  an  ungrudging  distribution,  like  that 
with  which  I  could  deal  out  cards.  STEEVENS. 

3  Ay,  defiled  land,  ]  '/, — is  the  old  reading,  which  apparently 
depends  on  a  very  low  quibble.  Alcibiades  is  told,  that  his  estate 
lies  in  a  pitch'd  field.  Now  pitch,  as  Falstaff  says,  doth  defile. 
Alcibiades  therefore  replies,  that  his  estate  lies  in  defiled  land. 


sc.ii.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  51 

1  LORD.  We  are  so  virtuously  bound, 

TIM.  And  so 

Am  I  to  you. 

2  LORD.       So  infinitely  endear' d, 

TIM.  All  to  you.4 — Lights,  more  lights. 

1  LORD.  The  best  of  happiness, 

Honour,  and  fortunes,  keep  with  you,  lord  limon ! 

TIM.  Ready  for  his  friends.5 

\_Exeunt  ALCIBIADES,  Lords,  fyc. 

APEM.  What  a  coil's  here  ! 

Serving  of  becks,6  and  jutting  out  of  bums  ! 
I  doubt  whether  their  legs7  be  worth  the  sums 

This,  as  it  happened,  was  not  understood,  and  all  the  editors 
published — 

/  defy  land, .     JOHNSON. 

I  being  always  printed  in  the  old  copy  for  Ay,  the  editor  of 
the  second  folio  made  the  absurd  alteration  mentioned  by  Dr. 
Johnson.  MALONE. 

4  All  to  you.]  i.  e.  all  good  wishes,  or  all  happiness  to  you. 
So,  Macbeth: 

"  All  to  all.'*     STEEVENS. 

3  Ready  for  his  friends.]  I  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  enforcing 
the  sense,  as  well  as  restoring  the  measure,  we  should  read : 
Ready  ever  for  his  friends,     STEEVENS. 

6  Serving  of  becks,]  Beck  means  a  salutation  made  with  the 
head.  So,  Milton : 

"  Nods  and  becks,  and  wreathed  smiles." 
To  serve  a  beck,  is  to  offer  a  salutation.     JOHNSON. 

To  serve  a  beck,  means,  I  believe,  to  pay  a  courtly  obedience  to 
a  nod.  Thus,  in  The  Death  of  Robert  Earl  of  Huntington, 
1601: 

"  And  with  a  low  beck 

"  Prevent  a  sharp  check." 
Again,  in  The  Play  of  the  Four  P's,  1569: 

"  Then  I  to  every  soul  again, 

"  Did  give  a  beck  them  to  retain." 
In  Ram- Alley,  or  Merry  Tricks,  1611,  I  find  the  same  word: 

"  I  had  my  winks,  my  becks,  treads  on  the  toe." 

E  2 


.52  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  i. 

That  are  given  for  'em.  Friendship's  full  of  dregs : 
Methinks,  false  hearts  should  never  have  sound  legs. 
Thus  honest  fools  layout  their  wealth  on  court' sies. 

TIM.  Now,  Apemantus,  if  thou  wert  not  sullen, 
I'd  be  good  to  thee. 

APEM.  No,  I'll  nothing  :  for, 

If  I  should  be  brib'd  too,  there  would  be  none' left 
To  rail  upon  thee  ;  and  then  thou  would'st  sin  the 

faster. 

Thou  giv'st  so  long,  Timon,  I  fear  me,  thou 
Wilt  give  away  thyself  in  paper  shortly : 8 

Again,  in  Heywood's  Rape  ofLucrece,  1630: 

" •  wanton  looks, 

"  And  privy  becks,  savouring  incontinence.'* 
Again,  in  Lyly's  Woman  in  the  Moon,  1597 : 

"  And  he  that  with  a  beck  controuls  the  heavens." 
It  happens  then  that  the  word  beck  has  no  less  than  four  distinct 
significations.  In  Drayton's  Polyolbion,  it  is  enumerated  among 
the  appellations  of  small  streams  of  -water.  In  Shakspeare's 
Antomj  and  Cleopatra,  it  has  its  common  reading — a  sign  of 
invitation  made  by  the  hand.  In  Timon ,  it  appears  to  denote  a 
bow,  and  in  Lyly's  play,  a  nod  of  dignity  or  command;  as  well  as 
in  Marius  and  Sylla,  1594 : 

"  Yea  Sylla  with  a  beck  could  break  thy  neck." 
Again,  in  the  interlude  of  Jacob  and  Esau,  1568: 

"  For  what,  O  Lord,  is  so  possible  to  man's  judgment 

"  Which  thou  canst  notwith  a  beck  perform  incontinent?" 

STEEVENS. 
See  Surrey's  Poems,  p.  29 : 

"  And  with  a  becke  full  lowe  he  bowed  at  her  feete." 

TYRWHITT. 

7  /  doubt  whether  their  legs  #c.3     He  plays  upon  the  word 
leg,  as  it  signifies  a  limby  and  a  bow  or  act  of  obeisance. 

JOHNSON. 
See  Vol.  XL  p.  302,  n.  5.     MALONE. 

* I  fear  me,  thou 

Wilt  give  aivay  thyself  in  paper  shortly :]    i.  e.  be  ruined  by 
his  securities  entered  into.     WARBURTON. 

Dr.  Farmer  would  read — in  proper.     So,  in  William  Roy's 
Satire  against  Wolsey : 


K.  IT.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  S3 

What  need  these  feasts,  pomps,  and  vain  glories  ? 
TIM.  Nay, 

An  you  begin  to  rail  on  society  once, 
J  am  sworn,  not  to  give  regard  to  you. 
Farewell ;  and  come  with  better  musick.      [Exit. 

APEM.  So ; — 

Thou'lt  not  hear  me  now, — thou  shalt  not  then, 

I'll  lock9 
Thy  heaven *  from  thee.     O,  that  men's  ears  should 

be 
To  counsel  deaf,  but  not  to  flattery !  \_E,xit. 

" their  order 

"  Is  to  have  nothynge  in  proper, 

"  But  to  use  all  thynges  in  commune"  &c.     STEEVENS. 

9  Thou  It  not  hear  me  note, — thou  shalt  not  then,  Til  lock — ] 
The  measure  will  be  restored  by  the  omission  of  an  unnecessary 
word — me: 

Thou'lt  not  hear  now, — thou  shalt  not  then,  Pll  lock — . 

STEEVENS. 
1  Thy  heaven — ]   The  pleasure  of  being  flattered.    JOHNSON. 

Apemantus  never  intended,  at  any  event,  to  flatter  Timon, 
nor  did  Timon  expect  any  flattery  from  him.  By  his  heaven  he 
means  good  advice,  the  only  thing  by  which  he  could  be  saved. 
The  following  lines  confirm  this  explanation.  M.  MASON. 


54,  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  n. 

ACT  II.    SCENE  I. 

The  same.     A  Room  in  a  Senator's  House. 
Enter  a  Senator,  with  Papers  in  his  Hand. 

SEN.  And  late,  five  thousand  to  Varro ;  and  to 

Isidore 

He  owes  nine  thousand ;  besides  my  former  sum, 
Which  makes  it  five  and  twenty. — Still  in  motion 
Of  raging  waste  ?  It  cannot  hold  ;  it  will  not. 
If  I  want  gold,  steal  but  a  beggar's  dog, 
And  give  it  Timon,  why,  the  dog  coins  gold : 
If  I  would  sell  my  horse,  and  buy  twenty2  more 
Better  than  he,  why,  give  my  horse  to  Timon, 
Ask  nothing,  give  it  him,  it  foals  me,  straight, 
And  able  horses  :3  No  porter  at  his  gate ; 

twenty — ]  Mr.  Theobald  has — ten.    Dr.  Fanner  pro- 


poses to  read — twain.     REED. 

3  Ask  nothing,  give  it  him,  it  foals  me,  straight, 
And  able  horses:]   Mr.  Theobald  reads: 
Ten  able  horses.     STEEVENS. 

'*  If  I  want  gold  ( says  the  Senator)  let  me  steal  a  beggar's  dog, 
and  give  it  Timon,  the  dog  coins  me  gold.  If  I  would  sell  my 
horse,  and  had  a  mind  to  buy  ten  better  instead  of  him;  why,  I 
need  but  give  my  horse  to  Timon,  to  gain  this  point ;  and  it 
presently  fetches  me  an  horse.'"  But  is  that  gaining  the  point 
proposed  ?  The  first  folio  reads  : 

And  able  horses: 

Which  reading,  joined  to  the  reasoning  of  the  passage,  gave  me 
the  hint  for  this  emendation.     THEOBALD. 

The  passage  which  Mr.  Theobald  would  alter,  means  only 
this :  "  If  I  give  my  horse  to  Timon,  it  immediately  foals,  and 
not  only  produces  more,  but  able  horses."  The  same  construction 


sc.  /.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  55 

But  rather  one  that  smiles,  and  still  invites4 
All  that  pass  by.     It  cannot  hold ;  no  reason 
Can  found  his  state  in  safety.5     Caphis,  ho ! 
Caphis,  I  say ! 

occurs  in  Muck  Ado  about  Nothing:    "  — and  men  are  only 
turned  into  tongue,  and  trim  ones  too." 

Something  similar  occurs  also  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
Humorous  Lieutenant  : 

" some  twenty,  young  and  handsome, 

"  As  also  able  maids,  for  the  court  service."  STEEVENS. 

Perhaps  the  letters  of  the  word  me  were  transposed  at  the 
press.  Shakspeare  might  have  written  : 

it  foals  'em  straight 

And  able  horses. 

If  there  be  no  corruption  in  the  text,  the  word  twenty  in  the 
preceding  line,  is  understood  here  after  me. 

We  have  had  this  sentiment  differently  expressed  in  the  pre- 
ceding Act: 

"  — — •  no  meed  but  he  repays 
"  Seven-fold  above  itself;  no  gift  to  him, 
"  But  breeds  the  giver  a  return  exceeding 
"  All  use  of  quittance."     MALONE. 

"* No  porter  at  his  gate; 

But  rather  one  that  smiles,  and  still  invites — ]  I  imagine 
that  a  line  is  lost  here,  in  which  the  behaviour  of  a  surly  porter 
was  described.  JOHNSON. 

There  is  no  occasion  to  suppose  the  loss  of  a  line.  Sternness 
was  the  characteristick  of  a  porter.  There  appeared  at  Killing- 
worth  castle,  [1575]  "  a  porter  tall  of  parson,  big  of  lim,  and 
steam  of  countinauns."  FARMER. 

So  also,  in  A  Knight's  Conjuring  &c.  by  Decker:  "  You 
mistake,  if  you  imagine  that  Plutoes  porter  is  like  one  of  those 
big  fellowes  that  stand  like  gyants  at  Lordes  gates  &c. — yet  hee's 
as  surly  as  those  key-turners  are."  STEEVENS. 

The  word — one,  in  the  second  line,  does  not  refer  to  porter, 
but  means  a  person.  He  has  no  stern  forbidding  porter  at  his 
gate,  to  keep  people  out,  but  a  person  who  invites  them  in. 

M.  MASON. 


no  reason 


Can  found  his  state  in  safety.']  [Old  copy — found."]  The 
supposed  meaning  of  this  must  be, — No  reason,  by  sounding, 
fathoming,  or  trying,  his  state,  can  find  it  safe.  But  as  the 


.56  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  n. 


Enter  CAPHIS. 

CAPH.  Here,  sir ;  What  is  your  pleasure  ? 

SEN.  Get  on  your  cloak,  and  haste  you  to  lord 

Tim  on ; 

Importune  him  for  my  monies ;  be  not  ceas'd6 
With  slight  denial ;  nor  then  silenc'd,  when — 
Commend  me  to  your  master — and  the  cap 
Plays  in  the  right  hand,  thus : — but  tell  him,  sir- 
rah,7 

My  uses  cry  to  me,  I  must  serve  my  turn 
Out  of  mine  own ;  his  days  and  times  are  past, 
And  my  reliances  on  his  fracted  dates 
Have  smit  my  credit :  I  love,  and  honour  him ; 
But  must  not  break  my  back,  to  heal  his  finger : 
Immediate  are  my  needs  j  and  my  relief 

words  stand,  they  imply,  that  no  reason  can  safely  sound  his 
state.     I  read  thus : 


no  reason 


Can  found  his  state  in  safety. 

Reason  cannot  find  his  fortune  to  have  any  safe  or  solid  foun- 
dation. 

The  types  of  the  first  printer  of  this  play  were  so  worn  and 
defaced,  that  f  and  f  are  not  always  to  be  distinguished. 

JOHNSON. 

The  following  passage  in  Macbeth  affords  countenance  to  Dr. 
Johnson's  emendation : 

"  Whole  as  the  marble,  founded  as  the  rock ; ." 

STEEVENS. 

6 be  not  ceas'd — ]    i.  e.  stopped.     So,  in  Claudius  Ti- 
berius Nero,  1607 : 

"  Why  should  Tiberius'  liberty  be  ceased;" 
Again,  in  The  Valiant  Welchman,  1615: 

"  — pity  thy  people's  wrongs, 

"  And  cease  the  clamours  both  of  old  and  young." 

STEEVENS. 

7 sirrah,~]  was  added  for  the  sake  of  the  metre  by  the 

editor  of  the  second  folio.     MALONE. 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  57 

Must  not  be  toss'd  and  turn'd  to  me  in  words, 
But  find  supply  immediate.     Get  you  gone : 
Put  on  a  most  importunate  aspect, 
A  visage  of  demand ;  for,  I  do  fear, 
When  every  feather  sticks  in  his  own  wing, 
Lord  Timon  will  be  left  a  naked  gull,8 
Which  flashes9  now  a  phoenix.     Get  you  gone. 

CAPH.  I  go,  sir. 

SEN.  I  go,  sir  ? l — take  the  bonds  along  with  you, 
And  have  the  dates  in  compt.2 

CAPH.  I  will,  sir. 

SJEN".  Go. 

\_~Exeunt. 

8  -. a  naked  gull,]     A  gull  is  a  bird  as  remarkable  for  the 

poverty  of  its  feathers,  as  a  phoenix  is  supposed  to  be  for  the 
richness  of  its  plumage.     STEEVENS. 

9  Whichjlashes  &c.]      Which,  the  pronoun  relative,  relating 
to  things,  is  frequently  used,  as  in  this  instance,  by  Shakspeare, 
instead  of  who,  the  pronoun  relative,  applied  to  persons.     The 
use  of  the  former  instead  of  the  latter  is  still  preserved  in  the 
Lord's  prayer.     STEEVENS. 

1  Caph.  I  go,  sir. 

Sen.  I  go,  sir?^\  This  last  speech  is  not  a  captious  repetition 
of  what  Caphis  said,  but  a  further  injunction  to  him  to  go.  /, 
in  all  the  old  dramatick  writers,  stands  for — ay,  as  it  does  in  this 
place.  M.  MASON. 

I  have  left  Mr.  M.  Mason's  opinion  before  the  reader,  though 
I  do  not  heartily  concur  in  it.     STEEVENS. 

s take  the  bonds  along  with  you, 

And  nave  the  dates  in  compt.]  [Old  copy — And  have  the 
dates  in.  Come.]  Certainly,  ever  since  bonds  were  given,  the 
date  was  put  in  when  the  bond  was  entered  into :  and  these 
bonds  Timon  had  already  given,  and  the  time  limited  for  their 
payment  was  lapsed.  The  Senator's  charge  to  his  servant  must 
be  to  the  tenour  as  I  have  amended  the  text ;  Take  good  notice 
of  the  dates,  for  the  better  computation  of  the  interest  due  upon 
them.  THEOBALD. 


58  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  n. 

SCENE  II. 

The  same.     A  Hall  in  Timon's  House. 

Enter  FLAVIUS,  with  many  Bills  in  his  Hand. 

FLAV.  No  care,  no  stop  !  so  senseless  of  expence, 
That  he  will  neither  know  how  to  maintain  it, 
Nor  cease  his  flow  of  riot:  Takes  no  account 
How  things  go  from  him  ;  nor  resumes  no  care 
Of  what  is  to  continue  ;  Never  mind 
Was  to  be  so  unwise,  to  be  so  kind.3 
What  shall  be  done  ?  He  will  not  hear,  till  feel : 
I  must  be  round  with  him,  now  he  comes  from 

hunting. 
Fye,  fye,  fye,  fye  ! 


Mr.  Theobald's  emendation  may  be  supported  by  the  follow- 
ing instance  in  Macbeth  : 

"  Have  theirs,  themselves,  and  what  is  theirs,  in  compt." 

STEEVENS. 

3 Never  mind 

Was  to  be  so  unwise,  to  be  so  kind.~]  Nothing  can  be  worse, 
or  more  obscurely  expressed :  and  all  for  the  sake  of  a  wretched 
rhyme.  To  make  it  sense  and  grammar,  it  should  be  supplied 
thus: 

— — Never  mind 

Was  [made]  to  be  so  unwise,  [in  order]  to  be  so  kind. 
i.  e.  Nature,  in  order  to  make  a  profuse  mind,  never  before  en- 
dowed any  man  with  so  large  a  share  of  folly.     WAIIBURTON. 

Of  this  mode  of  expression,  conversation  affords  many  exam- 
ples :  "  I  was  always  to  be  blamed,  whatever  happened." —  "  I 
am  in  the  lottery,  but  I  was  always  to  draw  blanks." 

JOHNSON. 


.sc.  ii.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  59 


Enter  CAPHIS,  and  the  Servants  of  ISIDORE  and 
VARRO. 

CAPH.  Good  even,  Varro:4  What, 

You  come  for  money  ? 

FAR.  SERV.  Is't  not  your  business  too  ? 

4  Good  even,  Varro  .•]  It  is  observable,  that  this  good  evening 
as  before  dinner :  for  Timon  tells  Alcibiades,  that  they  will  go 
forth  again,  as  soon  as  dinner's  done,  which  may  prove  that  by 
dinner  our  author  meant  not  the  ccena  of  ancient  times,  but  the 
mid-day's  repast.  I  do  not  suppose  the  passage  corrupt :  such 
inadvertencies  neither  author  nor  editor  can  escape. 

There  is  another  remark  to  be  made.  Varro  and  Isidore  sink 
a  few  lines  afterwards  into  the  servants  of  Varro  and  Isidore. 
Whether  servants,  in  our  author's  time,  took  the  names  of  their 
masters,  I  know  not.  Perhaps  it  is  a  slip  of  negligence. 

JOHNSON. 

In  the  old  copy  it  stands  :  "  Enter  Caphis,  Isidore,  and  Varro" 

STEEVENS. 

In  like  manner  in  the  fourth  scene  of  the  next  Act  the  servant 
of  Lucius  is  called  by  his  master's  name  ;  but  our  author's  inten- 
tion is  sufficiently  manifested  by  the  stage-direction  in  the  fourth 
scene  of  the  third  Act,  where  we  find  in  the  first  folio,  (p.  86, 
col.  2, )  "  Enter  Varro's  man,  meeting  others."  I  have  therefore 
always  annexed  Serv.  to  the  name  of  the  master.  MA  LONE. 

Good  even,  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  less  accurately  written, 
Good  den,  was  the  usual  salutation  from  noon,  the  moment  that 
good  morrow  became  improper.  This  appears  plainly  from  the 
following  passage  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  II.  sc.  iv : 

"  Nurse.  God  ye  good  morrow,  gentlemen. 

**  Mercutio.  God  ye  good  den,  fair  gentlewoman. 

"  Nur.  Is  it  good  den  ? 

"  Merc.  'Tis  no  less  I  tell  you;  for  the hand  of  the 

dial  is  now  upon  the of  noon" 

So,  in  Hamlet's  greeting  to  Marcellus,  Act  I.  sc.  i.  Sir  T. 
Hanmer  and  Dr.  Warburton,  not  being  aware,  I  presume,  of 
this  wide  sense  of  Good  even,  have  altered  it  to  Good  morning ; 
without  any  necessity,  as  from  the  course  of  the  incidents,  pre- 
cedent and  subsequent,  the  day  may  well  be  supposed  to  be 
turned  of  noon.  TYRWHITT. 


60  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  n. 

CAPH.  It  is ; — And  yours  too,  Isidore  ? 

ISID.  SERF.  It  is  so. 

CAPH.  'Would  we  were  all  discharged! 

FAR.  SERV.  I  fear  it. 

CAPH.  Here  comes  the  lord. 

Enter  TIMON,  ALCIBIADES,  and  Lords,  &;c. 

TIM.  So  soon  as  dinner's  done,  we'll  forth  again,5 
My  Alcibiades. — With  me  ?  Wliat's  your  will  ? 

CAPH.  My  lord,  here  is  a  note  of  certain  dues. 
TIM.  Dues  ?  Whence  are  you  ? 
CAPH.  Of  Athens  here,  my  lord. 

TIM.  Go  to  my  steward. 

CAPH.  Please  it  your  lordship,  he  hath  put  me  off 
To  the  succession  of  new  days  this  month  ; 
My  master  is  awak'd  by  great  occasion, 
To  call  upon  his  own  ;  and  humbly  prays  you, 
That  with  your  other  noble  parts  you'll  suit,6 

* . tve1  II forth  again,'}  i.  e.  to  hunting,  from  which  diver- 
sion, we  find  by  Flavius's  speech,  he  was  just  returned.  It  may 
be  here  observed,  that  in  our  author's  time  it  was  the  custom  to 
hunt  aswellafter  dinner  as  before.  Thus,  in  Laneham's  Account 
of  the  Entertainment  at  Kenehwrth  Castle,  we  find,  that  Queen 
Elizabeth  always,  while  there,  hunted  in  the  afternoon :  "  Mon- 
day was  hot,  and  therefore  her  highness  kept,in  'till jive  aclok  in  the 
evening;  what  time  it  pleaz'd  her  to  ryde  forth  into  the  chase, 
to  hunt  the  hart  of  fors ;  which  found  anon,  and  after  sore 
chased,"  &c.  Again:  "  Munday  the  18th  of  this  July,  the 
weather  being  hot,  her  highness  kept  the  castle  for  coolness 
'till  about  Jive  a  clok,  her  majesty  in  the  chase  hunted  the  hart 
(as  before)  of  forz,"  &c.  So,  in  Tancred  and  Gismund,  1592: 
"  lie  means  this  evening  in  the  park  to  hunt."  REED. 

6  That  frith  your  other  nolle  parts  you'll  suit,"]  i.  e.  that  you 
will  behave  on  this  occasion  in  a  manner  consistent  with  your 
other  noble  qualities.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  ii.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  61 

In  giving  him  his  right. 

TIM.  Mine  honest  friend, 

I  pr'ythee,  but  repair  to  me  next  morning. 

CAPH.  Nay,  good  my  lord, 

TIM.  Contain  thyself,  good  friend. 

JKdE.feKF.OneVarro's  servant,  my  good  lord, — 

ISID.  SERV.                                    From  Isidore  ; 
He  humbly  prays  your  speedy  payment,7 

CAPH.   If  you  did  know,  my  lord,  my  master's 
wants, 

VAR.  SERF.  'Twas  due  on  forfeiture,  my  lord, 

six  weeks, 
And  past, 

ISID.  SERF.  Your  steward  puts  me  off,  my  lord; 
And  I  am  sent  expressly  to  your  lordship. 

TIM.  Give  me  breath  : 

I  do  beseech  you,  good  my  lords,  keep  on  ; 

[Exeunt  ALCIBIADES  and  Lords. 
I'll  wait  upon  you  instantly. — Come  hither,  pray 
you.  \_To  FLAVIUS. 

How  goes  the  world,  that  I  am  thus  encounter' d 
With  clamorous  demands  of  date-broke  bonds,8 

17  He  humbly  prays  your  speedy  payment,"]     As  our  author 
does  not  appear  to  have  meant  that  the  servant  of  Isidore  should 
be  less  civil  than  those  of  the  other  lords,  it  is  natural  to  conceive 
that  this  line,  at  present  imperfect,  originally  stood  thus : 
He  humbly  prays  your  lordship's  speedy  payment. 

STEEVENS, 

8 of  date-broke  bonds,"]     The  old  copy  has : 

of  debt,  broken  bonds. 


Mr.  Malone  very  judiciously  reads — date-broken.  For  the  sake 
of  measure,  I  have  omitted  the  last  letter  of  the  second  word. 
So,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing:  "  I  have  broke  [i.  e.  broke;*] 
with  her  father."  STEEVENS. 

To  the  present  emendation  T  should  not  have  ventured  to  give 


62  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  if. 

And  the  detention  of  long-since-due  debts, 
Against  my  honour  ? 

FLAV.  Please  you,  gentlemen, 

The  time  is  unagreeable  to  this  business : 
Your  importunacy  cease,  till  after  dinner  ; 
That  I  may  make  his  lordship  understand 
Wherefore  you  are  not  paid. 

TIM.  Do  so,  my  friends : 

See  them  well  entertain'd.  [Exit  TIMON. 

FLAV.  I  pray,  draw  near. 

\_Exit  FLAVIUS. 


Enter  APEMANTUS  and  a  Fool.9 

CAPH.  Stay,  stay,   here  comes   the   fool  with 
Apemantus;  let's  have  some  sport  with  5em. 

VAR.  SERF.  Hang  him,  he'll  abuse  us. 
ISID.  SERV.  A  plague  upon  him,  dog ! 
VAR.  SERV.  How  dost,  fool  ? 
APEM.  Dost  dialogue  with  thy  shadow  ? 

a  place  in  the  text,  but  that  some  change  is  absolutely  necessary, 
and  this  appears  to  be  established  beyond  a  doubt  by  a  former 
line  in  the  preceding  scene: 

"  And  my  reliances  on  his  fracted  dates." 
The  transcriber's  ear  deceived  him  here  as  in  many  other  places. 
Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  and  the  subsequent  editors  evaded  the  dif- 
ficulty by  omitting  the  corrupted  word — debt.     MALONE. 

9  Enter  Apemantus  and  a  Fool.]  I  suspect  some  scene  to 
be  lost,  in  which  the  entrance  of  the  Fool,  and  the  page  that  fol- 
lows him,  was  prepared  by  some  introductory  dialogue,  in 
which  the  audience  was  informed  that  they  were  the  fool  and 
page  of  Phrynia,  Timandra,  or  some  other  courtezan,  upon  the 
knowledge  of  which  depends  the  greater  part  of  the  ensuing  jo- 
cularity. JOHNSON. 


sc.  II.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  63 

VAR.  SERV.  I  speak  not  to  thee. 

APEM.  No ;  'tis  to  thyself, — Come  away. 

[To  the  Fool. 

ISID.  SERV.  [To  VAR.  Serv.]  There's  the  fool 
hangs  on  your  back  already. 

APEM.  No,  thou  stand' st  single,  thou  art  not  on 
him  yet. 

CAPH.  Where's  the  fool  now  ? 

APEM.  He  last  asked  the  question. — Poor  rogues, 
and  usurers'  men  !  bawds  between  gold  and  want! l 

ALL  SERV.  What  are  we,  Apemantus? 
APEM.  Asses. 
ALL  SERV.  Why  ? 

APEM.  That  you  ask  me  what  you  are,  and  do 
not  know  yourselves. — Speak  to  'em,  fool. 

FOOL.  How  do  you,  gentlemen  ? 

1  Poor  rogues,  and  usurers1  men  !  batvds  &c.]  This  is  said  so 
abruptly,  that  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  misplaced,  and  would  re- 
gulate the  passage  thus : 

Caph.   Where's  the  fool  nfftu  ? 

Apem.  He  last  asked  the  question. 

All.  What  are  tee,  Apemantus  ? 

Apem.  Asses. 

All.  Why? 

Apem.  That  you  ask  me  ivhat  you  are,  and  do  not  know  your* 
selves.  Poor  rogues,  and  usurers'  men!  batvds  between  gold  and 
want !  Speak  &c. 

Thus  every  word  will  have  its  proper  place.  It  is  likely  that 
the  passage  transposed  was  forgot  in  the  copy,  and  inserted  in 
the  margin,  perhaps  a  little  beside  the  proper  place,  which  the 
transcriber  wanting  either  skill  or  care  to  observe,  wrote  it 
where  it  now  stands.  JOHNSON. 

The  transposition  proposed  by  Dr.  Johnson  is  unnecessary. 
Apemantus  does  not  address  these  words  to  any  of  the  others, 
but  mutters  them  to  himself;  so  that  they  do  not  enter  into  the 
dialogue,  or  compose  apart  of  it.  M.  MASON. 


64  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  n. 

ALL  SERV.  Gramercies,  good  fool :  How  does 
your  mistress  ? 

FOOL.  She's  e'en  setting  on  water  to  scald  such 
chickens  as  you  are.2  'Would,  we  could  see  you 
at  Corinth.3 

APEM.  Good!  gramercy. 


Enter  Page* 
FOOL.  Look  you,  here  comes  my  mistress'  page.* 

8  Site's  e'en  setting  on  'water  to  scald  #c.]  The  old  name  for 
the  disease  got  at  Corinth  was  the  brenning,  and  a  sense  of  scald- 
ing is  one  of  its  first  symptoms.  JOHNSON. 

The  same  thought  occurs  in  The  Old  Law,  by  Massinger : 

" look  parboil'd, 

"  As  if  they  came  from  Cupid's  scalding  house." 
Handle  Holme,  in  his  Academy  of  Arms  and  Blazon,  B.  III. 
ch.  ii.  p.  441,  has  also  the  following  passage  :  "  He  beareth 
Argent;  a  Doctor's  tub  (otherwise  called  a  Cleansing  Tub,) 
Sable,  Hooped,  Or.  In  this  pockifyed,  and  such  diseased  persons, 
are  for  a  certain  time  put  into,  not  to  boyl  up  to  an  heighth, 
but  to  parboil"  &c.  STEEVENS. 

It  was  anciently  the  practice,  and  in  inns  perhaps  still  continues, 
to  scald  off  the  feathers  of  poultry,  instead  of  plucking  them. 
Chaucer  hath  referred  to  it  in  his  Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  6820 : 
"  Without  scalding  they  hem^>w/fe."     HENLEY. 

3  'Would,  ive  could  see  you  at  Corinth.]  A  cant  name  for  a 
bawdy-house,  I  suppose,  from  the  dissoluteness  of  that  ancient 
Greek  city  ;  of  which  Alexander  ab  Alexandro  has  these  words : 
"  Et  CORINTHI  supra  mille  prostitutas  in  templo  Vcneris  assidue 
degere,  et  inflammata  Ubidine  qucestui  meretricio  operam  dare, 
et  velut  sacrorum  ministras  Dece  famulari."  Milton,  in  his 
Apology  for  Smectymnuus,  says :  "  Or  searching  for  me  at  the 
Bordellos,  where,  it  may  be,  he  has  lost  himself,  and  raps  up, 
without  pity,  the  sage  and  rheumatick  old  prelatess,  with  all 
her  young  Corinthian  laity,  to  enquire  for  such  a  one." 

WARBURTON. 

See  Vol.  XI.  p.  270,  n.  7,     MALONE, 

4 my  mistress' page.~]  In  the  first  passage  this  Fool  speaks 

of  his  sister,  in  the  second  [as  exhibited  in  the  modern  editions] 


sc.  ii.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  65 

PAGE.  [To  the  Fool.]  Why,  how  now,  captain  ? 
what  do  you  in  this  wise  company  ? — How  dost 
thou,  Apemantus? 

APEM.  'Would  I  had  a  rod  in  my  mouth,  that  I 
might  answer  thee  profitably. 

PAGE.  Pr'ythee,  Apemantus,  read  me  the  super- 
scription of  these  letters ;  I  know  not  which  is 
which. 

APEM.  Canst  not  read  ? 
PAGE.  No. 

APEM.  There  will  little  learning  die  then,  that 
day  thou  art  hanged.  This  is  to  lord  Timon  ;  this 
to  Alcibiades.  Go  ;  thou  wast  born  a  bastard,  and 
thou'lt  die  a  bawd. 

PAGE.  Thou  wast  whelped  a  dog ;  and  thou  shalt 
famish,  a  dog's  death.  Answer  not,  I  am  gone. 

[Exit  Page. 

of  his  mistress.  In  the  old  copy  it  is  master  in  both  places.  It 
should  rather,  perhaps,  be  mistress  in  both,  as  it  is  in  a  following 
and  a  preceding  passage : 

'*  All.  How  does  your  mistress?" 

"  Fool.  My  mistress  is  one,  and  I  am  her  fool." 

STEEVENS. 

I  have  not  hesitated  to  print  mistress  in  both  places.  Master 
was  frequently  printed  in  the  old  copy  instead  of  mistress,  and 
vice  versa,  from  the  ancient  mode  of  writing  an  M  only,  which 
stood  in  the  MSS.  of  Shakspeare's  time  either  for  the  one  or  the 
other ;  and  the  copyist  or  printer  completed  the  word  without 
attending  to  the  context.  This  abbreviation  is  found  in  Coriola- 
nus,  folio,  1623,  p.  21 : 

"  Where's  Cotus  ?  My  M.  calls  for  him." 
Again,  more  appositely,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  1623: 
"  What  ho,  M.  [Master"]  Lorenzo,  and  M.  [Mistress] 

Lorenzo." 

In  Vol.  IX.  p.  54,  n.  8 ;  and  Vol.  XIII.  p.  205,  n.  2 ;  are  found 
corruptions  similar  to  the  present,  in  consequence  of  the  printer's 
completing  the  abbreviated  word  of  the  MS.  improperly. 

MALONE. 
VOL.  XIX.  F 


66  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  IL 

APEM.  Even  so  thou  out-run'st  grace.  Fool,  I 
will  go  with  you  to  lord  Timon's. 

FOOL.  Will  you  leave  me  there  ? 

APEM.  If  Timon  stay  at  home. — You  three  serve 
three  usurers  ? 

ALL  SERF.  Ay  ;  'would  they  served  us ! 

APEM.  So  would  I, — as  good  a  trick  as  ever 
hangman  served  thief. 

FOOL.  Are  you  three  usurers'  men  ? 
ALL  SERF.  Ay,  fool. 

FOOL.  I  think,  no  usurer  but  has  a  fool  to  his 
servant :  My  mistress  is  one,  and  I  am  her  fool. 
When  men  come  to  borrow  of  your  masters,  they 
approach  sadly,  and  go  away  merry;  but  they  enter 
my  mistress'  house5  merrily,  and  go  away  sadly : 
The  reason  of  this  ? 

VAR.  SERF.  I  could  render  one. 

APEM.  Do  it  then,  that  we  may  account  thee  a 
whoremaster,  and  a  knave ;  which  notwithstanding, 
thou  shalt  be  no  less  esteemed. 

VAR.  SERV.  What  is  a  whoremaster,  fool  ? 

FOOL.  A  fool  in  good  clothes,  and  something 
like  thee.  'Tis  a  spirit :  sometime,  it  appears  like 
a  lord ;  sometime,  like  a  lawyer ;  sometime,  like  a 
philosopher,  with  two  stones  more  than  his  artifi- 
cial one  :6  He  is  very  often  like  a  knight  j  and,  ge- 

4 my  mistress'  house — ]  Here  again  the  old  copy  reads — 

master's.  I  have  corrected  it  for  the  reason  already  assigned. 
The  context  puts  the  matter  beyond  a  doubt.  Mr.  Theobald,  I 
find,  had  silently  made  the  same  emendation  ;  but  in  subsequent 
editions  the  corrupt  reading  of  the  old  copy  was  again  restored. 

MALONE. 

6 his  artificial  one:"]     Meaning  the  celebrated  philoso- 
pher's stone,  which  was  in  those  times  much  talked  of.  Sir  Tho- 


sc.  ii.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  67 

nerally  in  all  shapes,  that  man  goes  up  and  down  in, 
from  fourscore  to  thirteen,  this  spirit  walks  in. 

FAR.  SERV.  Thou  art  not  altogether  a  fool. 

FOOL.  Nor  thou  altogether  a  wise  man:  as  much 
foolery  as  I  have,  so  much  wit  thou  lackest. 

APEM.  That  answer  might  have  become  Ape- 
mantus. 

ALL  SERV.  Aside,  aside  j  here  comes  lord  Timon. 

Re-enter  TIMON  and  FLAVIUS. 

APEM.  Come,  with  me,  fool,  come. 

FOOL.  I  do  not  always  follow  lover,  elder  brother, 
and  woman ;  sometime,  the  philosopher. 

[Exeunt  APEMANTUS  and  Fool. 

FLAV.  'Pray  you,  walk  near  ;  I'll  speak  with  you 
anon.  [Exeunt  Serv. 

TIM.  You  make  me  marvel :  Wherefore,  ere  this 

time, 

Had  you  not  fully  laid  my  state  before  me ; 
That  I  might  so  have  rated  my  expence, 
As  I  had  leave  of  means  ? 

FLAV.  You  would  not  hear  me, 

At  many  leisures  I  proposed. 

TIM.  Go  to : 

Perchance,  some  single  vantages  you  took, 
When  my  indisposition  put  you  back  j 

mas  Smith  was  one  of  those  who  lost  considerable  sums  in  seek- 
ing of  it.    JOHNSON. 

Sir  Richard  Steele  was  one  of  the  last  eminent  men  who  en- 
tertained hopes  of  being  successful  in  this  pursuit.  His  labora- 
tory was  at  Poplar,  a  village  near  London,  and  is  now  converted 
into  a  garden  house.  STEEVENS. 

F  2 


68  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  n. 

And  that  unaptness  made  your  minister,7 
Thus  to  excuse  yourself. 

FLAF.  O  my  good  lord ! 

At  many  times  I  brought  in  my  accounts, 
Laid  them  before  you ;  you  would  throw  them  off* 
And  say,  you  found  them  in  mine  honesty. 
When,  for  some  trifling  present,  you  have  bid  me 
Return  so  much,8 1  have  shook  my  head,  and  wept; 
Yea,  'gainst  the  authority  of  manners,  pray'd  you 
To  hold  your  hand  more  close :  I  did  endure 
Not  seldom,  nor  no  slight  checks ;  when  I  have 
Prompted  you,  in  the  ebb  of  your  estate, 
And  your  great  flow  of  debts.   My  dear-lov'  d  lord,9 
Though  you  hear  now,  (too  late!)  yet  now's  a 
time,1 

-made  your  minister,]     So  the  original.     The  second 


folio  and  the  later  editions  have  all : 

made  you  minister.     JOHNSON. 

The  construction  is  : — And  made  that  unaptness  your  minister. 

MALONE. 

*  Return  so  much,]  He  does  not  mean  so  great  a  sum,  but  a 
certain  sum,  as  it  might  happen  to  be.  Our  author  frequently 
uses  this  kind  of  expression.  See  a  note  on  the  words — "  with 
so  many  talents,"  p.  84,  n.  3.  MALONE. 

9 My  dear-/ouW  lord,~]  Thus  the  second  folio.  The  first 

omits  the  epithet — dear,  and  consequently  vitiates  the  measure. 

STEEVENS. 

1  Though  you  hear  now,  (too  late!]  yet  no'afs  a  time,'}  i.  e. 
Though  it  be  now  too  late  to  retrieve  your  former  fortunes,  yet 
it  is  not  too  late  to  prevent  by  the  assistance  of  your  friends, 
your  future  miseries.  Had  the  Oxford  editor  understood  the 
sense,  he  would  not  have  altered  the  text  to, — 

Though  you  hear  me  now,  yet  note's  too  late  a  time. 

WARBURTON. 

I  think  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  right,  and  have  received  his 
emendation.  JOHNSON. 

The  old  reading  is  not  properly  explained  by  Dr.  Warburton. 
"  Though  I  tell  you  this  (says  Flavius)  at  too  late  a  period, 
perhaps,  for  the  information  to  be  of  any  service  to  you,  yet  late 
as  it  is,  it  is  necessary  that  you  should  be  acquainted  with  it/* 


ac.  ii.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  69 

The  greatest  of  your  having  lacks  a  half 
To  pay  your  present  debts. 

TIM.  Let  all  my  land  be  sold.2 

FLAV.  'Tis  all  engag'd,  some  forfeited  and  gone; 
And  what  remains  will  hardly  stop  the  mouth 
Of  present  dues :  the  future  comes  apace : 
What  shall  defend  the  interim  ?  and  at  length 
How  goes  our  reckoning?3 

It  is  evident,  that  the  steward  had  very  little  hope  of  assistance 
from  his  master's  friends.     RITSON. 

Though  you  now  at  last  listen  to  my  remonstrances,  yet  now 
your  affairs  are  in  such  a  state  that  the  whole  of  your  remaining 
fortune  will  scarce  pay  half  your  debts.  You  are  therefore  wise 
too  late.  MALONE. 

*  The  greatest  of  your  having  lacks  a  half 
To  pay  your  present  debts. 

Tim.  Let  all  my  land  be  sold.]     The 

redundancy  of  measure  in  this  passage  persuades  me  that  it  stood 
originally  thus : 

Your  greatest  having  lacks  a  half  to  pay 
Your  present  debts. 
Tim.  Let  all  my  land  be  sold.     STEEVENS. 

3 and  at  length 

How  goes  our  reckoning?]     This  Steward  talks  very  wildly. 
The  Lord  indeed  might  have  asked,  what  a  Lord  seldom  knows : 

HOIJD  goes  our  reckoning? 

But  the  Steward  was  too  well  satisfied  in  that  matter.     I  would 
read  therefore : 

Hold  good  our  reckoning  ?     WARBURTON. 

It  is  common  enough,  and  the  commentator  knows  it  is  com- 
mon to  propose,  interrogatively,  that  of  which  neither  the  speaker 
nor  the  hearer  has  any  doubt.  The  present  reading  may  there- 
fore stand.  JOHNSON. 

How  will  you  be  able  to  subsist  in  the  time  intervening  be- 
tween the  payment  of  the  present  demands  (which  your  whole 
substance  will  hardly  satisfy)  and  the  claim  of  future  dues,  for 
which  you  have  no  fund  whatsoever  ;  and  finally  on  the  settle- 
ment of  all  accounts  in  what  a  wretched  plight  will  you  be  ? 

MALONE. 


70  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  u. 

TIM.  To  Lacedaemon  did  my  land  extend. 

FLAV.  O  my  good  lord,  the  world  is  but  a  word;4 
Were  it  all  yours  to  give  it  in  a  breath, 
How  quickly  were  it  gone  ? 

TIM.  You  tell  me  true. 

FLAV.  If  you  suspect  my  husbandry,  or  false- 
hood, 

Call  me  before  the  exactest  auditors, 
And  set  me  on  the  proof.     So  the  gods  bless  me, 
When  all  our  offices5  have  been  oppressed 
With  riotous  feeders  ; 6  when  our  vaults  have  wept 
With  drunken  spilth  of  wine  ;  when  every  room 
Hath  blaz'd  with  lights,  and  bray'd  with  min- 
strelsy ; 
I  have  retir'd  me  to  a  wasteful  cock,7 


4  0  my  good  lord,  the  world  is  but  a  word ;]  The  meaning  is, 
as  the  world  itself  may  be  comprised  in  a  word,  you  might  give 
it  away  in  a  breath.  WARBURTON. 

3 our  offices — ]    i.  e.  the  apartments  allotted  to  culinary 

purposes,  the  reception  of  domesticks,  &c.     Thus,  in  Macbeth  : 

"  Sent  forth  great  largess  to  your  offices." 

Would  Duncan  have  sent  largess  to  any  but  servants?  See 
Vol.  X.  p.  94-,  n.  8.  It  appears  that  what  we  now  call  offices, 
were  anciently  called  houses  of  office.  So,  in  Chaucer's  Clerkes 
Tale,v.  8140,  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  edition: 

"  Houses  of  office  stuffed  with  plentee 

"  Ther  mayst  thou  see  of  dcinteous  vittaile." 

STEEVENS. 

f>  With  riotous  feeders ;]  Feeders  are  servants,  whose  low  de- 
baucheries are  practised  in  the  offices  of  a  house.  See  a  note  on 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act  III.  sc.  xi :  "  — one  who  looks  on 

feeders?*     STEEVENS. 

7 a  wasteful  cock,~\     i.  e.  a  cockloft,  a  garret.     And   a 

wasteful  cock,  signifies  a  garret  lying  in  waste,  neglected,  put  to 
no  use.  HANMER. 

Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  explanation  is  received  by  Dr.  Warbur- 
ton,  yet  I  think  them  both  apparently  mistaken.  A  wasteful 
cock  is  a  cock  or  pipe  with  a  turning  stopple  running  to  waste. 


«?.  ii.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  71 

And  set  mine  eyes  at  flow. 

TIM.  Pr'ythee,  no  more. 

FLAV.  Heavens,  have  I  said,  the  bounty  of  this 

lord! 

How  many  prodigal  bits  have  slaves,  and  peasants, 
This  night  englutted!  Who  is  not  Timon's?8 
What  heart,  head,  sword,  force,  means,  but  is  lord 

Timon's  ? 

Great  Timon,  noble,  worthy,  royal  Timon  ? 
Ah !  when  the  means  are  gone,  that  buy  this  praise, 
The  breath  is  gone  whereof  this  praise  is  made : 
Feast-won,  fast-lost ;  one  cloud  of  winter  showers, 
These  flies  are  couch'd. 

TIM.  Come,  sermon  me  no  further : 

No  villainous  bounty  yet  hath  pass'd  my  heart ; 
Unwisely,  not  ignobly,  have  I  given.9 


In  this  sense,  both  the  terms  have  their  usual  meaning ;  but  I 
know  not  that  cock  is  ever  used  for  cockloft,  or  wasteful  for  lying 
in  waste,  or  that  lying  in  waste  is  at  all  a  phrase.  JOHNSON. 

Whatever  be  the  meaning  of  the  present  passage,  it  is  certain, 
that  lying  in  waste  is  still  a  very  common  phrase.  FARMER. 

A  wasteful  cock  is  what  we  now  call  a  waste  pipe;  a  pipe  which 
is  continually  running,  and  thereby  prevents  the  overflow  of 
cisterns,  and  other  reservoirs,  by  carrying  off  their  superfluous 
water.  This  circumstance  served  to  keep  the  idea  of  Timon's 
unceasing  prodigality  in  the  mind  of  the  Steward,  while  its  re- 
moteness from  the  scenes  of  luxury  within  the  house,  was  favour- 
able to  meditation.  COLLINS. 

The  reader  will  have  a  perfect  notion  of  the  method  taken  by 
Mr.  Pope  in  his  edition,  when  he  is  informed  that,  for  wasteful 
cock,  that  editor  reads — lonely  room.  MALONE. 

8  Who  is  not  Timon's  ?"]    1  suppose  we  ought  to  read,  for  the 
sake  of  measure : 

Who  is  not  lord  Timon's?     STEEVENS. 

9  No  villainous  bounty  yet  hathpass'd  my  heart ; 
Unwisely,  not  ignobly,  have  I  <mrw.]      Every  reader  must 

rejoice  in  this  circumstance  of  comfort  which  presents  itself  to 


72  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  n. 

Why  dost  thou  weep  ?  Canst  thou  the  conscience 

lack, 

To  think  I  shall  lack  friends  ?  Secure  thy  heart ; 
If  I  would  broach  the  vessels  of  my  love, 
And  try  the  argument1  of  hearts  by  borrowing, 
Men,  and  men's  fortunes,  could  I  frankly  use, 
As  I  can  bid  thee  speak.2 

FLAV.  Assurance  bless  your  thoughts ! 

TIM.  And,  in  some  sort,  these  wants  of  mine  are 

crown'd,3 

That  I  account  them  blessings  ;  for  by  these 
Shall  I  try  friends  :  You  shall  perceive,  how  you 
Mistake  my  fortunes ;  I  am  wealthy  in  my  friends. 

Timon,  who,  although  beggar'd  through  want  of  prudence,  con- 
soles himself  with  reflection  that  his  ruin  was  not  brought  on  by 
the  pursuit  of  guilty  pleasures.  STEEVENS. 

1  And  try  the  argument — ]  The  licentiousness  of  our  author 
forces  us  often  upon  far-fetched  expositions.  Arguments  may 
mean  contents,  as  the  arguments  of  a  book ;  or  evidences  and 
proofs.  JOHNSON. 

The  matter  contained  in  a  poem  or  play  was  in  our  author's 
time  commonly  thus  denominated.  The  contents  of  his  Rape  of 
Lucrece,  which  he  certainly  published  himself,  he  calls  The  Ar- 
gument. Hence  undoubtedly  his  use  of  the  word.  If  I  would, 
says  Timon,  by  borrowing,  try  of  what  men's  hearts  are  composed, 
what  they  have  in  them,  &c.  The  old  copy  reads — argument; 
not,  as  Dr.  Johnson  supposed — arguments.  MALONE. 

So,  in  Hamlet:  "  Have  you  heard  the  argument?  Is  there  no 
offence  in  it  ?"  Many  more  instances  to  the  same  purpose  might 
be  subjoined.  STEEVENS. 

*  As  I  can  lid  thee  speak."]  Thus  the  old  copy;  but  it  being 
clear  from  the  overloaded  measure  that  these  words  are  a  play- 
house interpolation,  I  would  not  hesitate  to  omit  them.  They 
are  understood,  though  not  expressed.  STEEVENS. 

3 croivn'd,~]     i.  e.  dignified,  adorned,  made  respectable. 

So,  in  King  Henry  VIII: 

"  And  yet  no  day  without  a  deed  to  crown  it." 

STEEVENS. 


sc.  ii.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  73 

Within  there,  hoi4 — Flaminius!5  Servilius! 

Enter  FLAMINIUS,  SERVILIUS,  and  other 
Servants. 

SEW.  My  lord,  my  lord, 

TIM.  I  will  despatch  you  severally. — You,  to 

lord  Lucius, — 

To  lord  Lucullus  you  ;  I  hunted  with  his 
Honour  to-day ; — You,  to  Sempronius  ; 
Commend  me  to  their  loves ;  and,  I  am  proud,  say, 
That  my  occasions  have  found  time  to  use  them 
Toward  a  supply  of  money  :  let  the  request 
Be  fifty  talents. 

FLAM.  As  you  have  said,  my  lord. 

FLAV.  Lord  Lucius,  and  lord  Lucullus?6  humph L 

\_Aside. 

TIM.  Go  you,  sir,  \_To  another  Serv.J  to  the  se- 
nators,7 

(Of  whom,  even  to  the  state's  best  health,  I  have 
Deserv'd  this  hearing,)  bid  'em  send  o'the  instant 
A  thousand  talents  to  me. 

FLAV.  I  have  been  bold, 


4  Within  there,  ho  !]  Ho,  was  supplied  by  Sir  Thomas  Han- 
mer.  The  frequency  of  Shakspeare's  use  of  this  interjection, 
needs  no  examples.  STEEVENS. 

4  Flaminius!']  The  old  copy  has — Flavius.  The  cor- 
rection was  made  by  Mr.  Rowe.  The  error  probably  arose  from 
Fla.  only  being  set  down  in  the  MS.  MALOXE. 

6  lord  Lucullus  ?~\   As  the  Steward  is  repeating  the  words 

of  Timon,  I  have  not  scrupled  to  supply  the  title  lord,  which  is 
wanting  in  the  old  copy,  though  necessary  to  the  metre. 

STEEVENS. 

7  Go  you,  sir,  to  the  senators,"]     To  complete  the  line,  we 
might  read,  as  in  the  first  scene  of  this  play : 

the  senators  of  Athens.     STEEVENS, 


74  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  n. 

(For  that  I  knew  it  the  most  general  way,8) 
To  them  to  use  your  signet,  and  your  name ; 
But  they  do  shake  their  heads,  and  I  am  here 
No  richer  in  return. 

TIM.  Is't  true  ?  can  it  be  ? 

FLAV.  They  answer,  in  a  joint  and  corporate 

voice, 

That  now  they  are  at  fall,9  want  treasure,  cannot 
Do  what  they  would  ;  are  sorry — you  are  honour- 

able, — 
But  yet  they  could  have  wish'd — they  know  not — 

but1 

Something  hath  been  amiss — a  noble  nature 
May  catch  a  wrench — would  all  were  well — 'tis 

pity— 

And  so,  intending2  other  serious  matters, 
After  distasteful  looks,  and  these  hard  fractions,3 

8  ''I knew  it  thz  most  general  tuff?/,]   General  is  not  speedy, 

but  compendious,  the  way  to  try  many  at  a  time.     JOHNSON. 

9  at  fall, ]  i.  e.  at  an  ebb.     STEEVENS. 

1  but — ]  was  supplied  by  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer,  to  com- 
plete the  verse.     STEEVENS. 

2  intending — ]  is  regarding,  turning  their  notice  to  other 

things.     JOHNSON. 

To  intend  and  to  attend  had  anciently  the  same  meaning.     So, 
in  The  Spanish  Curate  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher : 

"  Good  sir,  intend  this  business." 
See  Vol.  IV.  p.  469,  n.  5.     STEEVENS. 
So,  in  Wits,  Fits,  and  Fancies,  &c.  1595: 
"  Tell  this  man  that  I  am  going  to  dinner  to  my  lord  maior, 
and  that  I  cannot  now  intend  his  tittle-tattle." 
Again,  in  Pasquil's  Night-Cap,  a  poem,  1623 : 
"  For  we  have  many  secret  ways  to  spend, 
"  Which  are  not  fit  our  husbands  should  intend." 

MALONE. 

3  and  these  hard  fractions,]  Flavius,  by  fractions,  means 

broken  hints,  interrupted  sentences,  abrupt  remarks. 

JOHNSON. 


8c.n.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  73 

With  certain  half-caps,4  and  cold-moving  nods,5 
They  froze  me  into  silence. 

TIM.  You  gods,  reward  them ! — 

I  pr'ythee,  man,  look  cheerly ;  These  old  fellows 
Have  their  ingratitude  in  them  hereditary : G 
Their  blood  is  cak'd,  'tis  cold,  it  seldom  flows ; 
'Tis  lack  of  kindly  warmth,  they  are  not  kind ; 
And  nature,  as  it  grows  again  toward  earth, 
Is  fashion'd  for  the  journey,  dull,  and  heavy.7 — 
Go  to  Ventidius,— [To  a  Serv.]    Pr'ythee,  [To 

FLAVIUS,]  be  not  sad, 

Thou  art  true,  and  honest ;  ingeniously8 1  speak, 
No  blame  belongs  to  thee : — [To  Serv.]  Ventidius 
lately 

4  half-caps^]  A  half-cap  is  a  cap  slightly  moved,  not 

put  off.  JOHNSON. 

*  cold-moving  nods,~\  By  cold-moving  I  do  not  under- 
stand with  Mr.  Theobald,  chilling  or  cold-producing  nods,  but  a 
slight  motion  of  the  head,  without  any  warmth  or  cordiality. 

Cold-moving  is  the  same  as  coldly-moving.  So — -perpetual 
sober  gods,  for  perpetually  sober ;  lazy-pacing  clouds  ; — loving- 
jealous— flattering  sweet,  &c.  Such  distant  and  uncourteous 
salutations  are  properly  termed  cold-moving,  as  proceeding  from 
a  cold  and  unfriendly  disposition.  MALONE. 

6  Have  their  ingratitude  in  them  hereditary:]     Hereditary. 
for  by  natural  constitution.    But  some  distempers  of  natural  con- 
stitution being  called  hereditary,  he  calls  their  ingratitude  so. 

WARBURTOST. 

7  And  nature,  as  it  grows  again  toward  earth, 

Is  fashion* d  for  the  journey,  dull,  and  heavy. ,]  The  same 
thought  occurs  in  The  Wife  for  a  Month,  by  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher : 

"  Beside,  the  fair  soul's  old  too,  it  grows  covetous, 
"  Which  shows  all  honour  is  departed  from  us, 
"  And  we  are  earth  again." 

pariterque  senescere  meniem.     Lucret.  I. 

STEEVENS, 

8  ingeniously — ]     Ingenious  was  anciently  used  instead 

of  ingenuous.     So,  in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew: 

"  A  course  of  learning  and  ingenious  studies."     REED. 


76  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  u. 

Buried  his  father ;  by  whose  death,  he's  stepp'd 

Into  a  great  estate  :  when  he  was  poor, 

Imprison'd,  and  in  scarcity  of  friends, 

I  clear' d  him  with  five  talents :  Greet  him  from  me ; 

Bid  him  suppose,  some  good  necessity 

Touches  his  friend,9  which  craves  to  be  remember' d 

With  those  five  talents: — that  had, — [To  FLAV.] 

give  it  these  fellows 

To  whom  'tis  instant  due.     Ne'er  speak,  or  think, 
That  Timon's  fortunes  'mong  his  friends  can  sink. 

FLAV.  I  would,  I  could  not  think  it;1    That 

thought  is  bounty's  foe ; 
Being  free2  itself,  it  thinks  all  others  so.     \_Exeunt. 


0  Bid  him  suppose,  some  good  necessity 

Touches  hisjriendy"]  Good,  as  it  may  afford  Ventidius  an 
opportunity  of  exercising  his  bounty,  and  relieving  his  friend,  in 
return  for  his  former  kindness : — or,  some  honest  necessity,  not 
the  consequence  of  a  villainous  and  ignoble  bounty.  I  rather 
think  this  latter  is  the  meaning.  MA  LONE. 

So  afterwards : 

**  If  his  occasion  were  not  virtuous, 

"  I  should  not  urge  it  half  so  faithfully."     STEEVENS. 

1  /  ivould,  I  could  not  think  it;  8$c.~\     I  concur  in  opinion 
with  some  former  editors,  that  the  words — think  it,  should  be 
omitted.     Every  reader  will  mentally  insert  them  from  the  speech 
of  Timon,  though  they  are  not  expressed  in  that  of  Flavius.     The 
laws  of  metre,  in  my  judgment,  should  supersede  the  authority 
of  the  players,  who  appear  in  many  instances  to  have  taken  a 
designed  ellipsis  for  an  error  of  omission,  to  the  repeated  injury 
of  our  author's  versification.     I  would  read  : 

/  "would,  I  could  not :   That  thought's  bounty's  foe — . 

STEEVENS. 

free — ]  is  liberal,  not  parsimonious,     JOHNSON. 


ACT  m.        TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  77 

ACT  III.    SCENE  I. 

The  same.    A  Room  in  Lucullus's  House. 
FLAMINIUS  waiting.     Enter  a  Servant  to  Mm. 

SERF.  I  have  told  my  lord  of  you,  he  is  coming 
down  to  you. 

FLAM.  I  thank  you,  sir. 

'Enter  LUCULLUS. 

SERF.  Here's  my  lord. 

LUCUL.  \_Aside.~\  One  of  lord  Timon's  men  r  a 
gift,  I  warrant.  Why,  this  hits  right;  I  dreamt 
of  a  silver  bason  and  ewer3  to-night.  Flaminius, 

3  a  silver  bason  and  ewer — ]     These  utensils  of  silver 

being  much  in  request  in  Shakspeare's  time,  he  has,  as  usual, 
not  scrupled  to  place  them  in  the  house  of  an  Athenian  noble- 
man. So  again,  in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew: 

" my  house  within  the  city 

"  Is  richly  furnished  with  plate  and  gold ; 
"  Basons  and  ewers  to  lave  her  dainty  hands." 
See  Vol.  IX.  p.  133,  n.  1.     MALONE. 

Our  author,  I  believe,  has  introduced  basons  and  ewers  where 
they  would  certainly  have  been  found.  The  Romans  appear  to 
have  had  them ;  and  the  forms  of  their  utensils  were  generally 
copied  from  those  of  Greece. 

These  utensils  are  not  unfrequently  mentioned  by  Homer. 
Thus,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  twenty-fourth  Iliad: 

"  This  said,  the  chamber-maid  that  held  the  ewre  and 

basin  by, 

"  He  bade  powre  water  on  his  hands : — ." 
Again,  in  the  fifteenth  Odyssey,  by  the  same  translator : 


78  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m. 

honest  Flaminius  ;  you  are  very  respectively  wel- 
come, sir.4 — Fill  me  some  wine. — \jExit  Servant.] 
And  how  does  that  honourable  complete,  free- 
hearted gentleman  of  Athens,  thy  very  bountiful 
good  lord  and  master  ? 

FLAM.  His  health  is  well,  sir. 

LUCUL.  I  am  right  glad  that  his  health  is  well, 
sir :  And  what  hast  thou  there  under  thy  cloak, 
pretty  Flaminius  ? 

FLAM.  'Faith,  nothing  but  an  empty  box,  sir ; 
which,  in  my  lord's  behalf,  I  come  to  entreat  your 
honour  to  supply ;  who,  having  great  and  instant 
occasion  to  use  fifty  talents,  hath  sent  to  your  lord- 
ship to  furnish  him ;  nothing  doubting  your  pre- 
sent assistance  therein. 

LUCUL.  La,  la,  la,  la, — nothing  doubting,  says 
he  ?  alas,  good  lord !  a  noble  gentleman  'tis,  if  he 
would  not  keep  so  good  a  house.  Many  a  time 
and  often  I  have  dined  with  him,  and  told  him 
on't ;  and  come  again  to  supper  to  him,  of  purpose 
to  have  him  spend  less :  and  yet  he  would  embrace 
no  counsel,  take  no  warning  by  my  coming.  Every 
man  has  his  fault,  and  honesty  is  his ; 5  I  have  told 
Jiim  on't,  but  I  could  never  get  him  from  it. 

"  The  handmaid  water  brought,  and  gave  to  stream 
"  From  out  a  fair  and  golden  euier  to  them, 
"  From  whose  hands,  to  a  silver  cauldron,  fled 
"  The  troubled  wave."     STEEVENS. 

4  very  respectively  welcome,  sir.~\  i.  e.  respectfully.    So, 

in  King  John  : 

"  'Tis  too  respective"  &c. 
See  Vol.  X.  p.  359,  n.  4.     STEEVENS. 

*  Every  man  has  his  fault,  and  honesty  is  his;~\     Honesty 
does  not  here  mean  probity,  but  liberality,     M.  MASON. 


sc.  i.  TJMON  OF  ATHENS.  79 

Re-enter  Servant,  with  Wine. 

SERF.  Please  your  lordship,  here  is  the  wine. 

iC7CC7L.riaminius,I  have  noted  thee  always  wise, 
Kerens  to  thee. 

FLAM.  Your  lordship  speaks  your  pleasure. 

LUCUL.  I  have  observed  thee  always  for  a  toward- 
ly  prompt  spirit, — give  thee  thy  due, — and  one  that, 
knows  what  belongs  to  reason :  and  canst  use  the 
time  well,  if  the  time  use  thee  well :  good  parts  in- 
thee. — Get  you  gone, sirrah. — [To  the  Servant,  wha 
goes  out.~] — Draw  nearer,  honest  Flaminius.  Thy 
lord's  a  bountiful  gentleman :  but  thou  art  wise  \ 
and  thou  knowest  well  enough,  although  thou 
comest  to  me,  that  this  is  no  time  to  lend  money  , 
especially  upon  bare  friendship,  without  security. 
Here's  three  solidares6  for  thee  ;  good  boy,  wink  at 
me,  and  say,  thou  saw'st  me  not.  Fare  thee  well. 

FLAM.  Is't  possible,  the  world  should  so  much- 
differ  ; 

And  we  alive,  that  liv'd  ?7  Fly,  damned  baseness* 
To  him  that  worships  thee. 

[Throwing  the  Money  away. 

LUCUL.  Ha !  Now  I  see,  thou  art  a  fool,  and  fit 
for  thy  master.  [Exit  LUCULLUS. 

FLAM.  May  these  add  to  the  number  that  may 

scald  thee ! 
Let  molten  coin  be  thy  damnation,8 

c  three  solidares — ]  I  believe  this  coin  is  from  the  mint 

of  the  poet.     STEEVENS. 

7  And  ive  alive,  that  liv'd  ?]  i.  e.  And  we  who  were  alive  then, 
alive  now.  As  much  as  to  say,  in  so  short  a  time. 

WARBURTON". 

s  Let  molten  coin  be  thy  damnation,"]  Perhaps  the  poet  alludes 


SO  TIMON  OF  ATHENS,        ACT  IIL 

Thou  disease  of  a  friend,9  and  not  himself! 
Has  friendship  such  a  faint  and  milky  heart, 
It  turns  in  less  than  two  nights  ?  *  O  you  gods, 
I  feel  my  master's  passion ! 2  This  slave 
Unto  his  honour,3  has  my  lord's  meat  in  him : 
Why  should  it  thrive,  and  turn  to  nutriment, 
When  he  is  turn'd  to  poison  ? 
O,  may  diseases  only  work  upon't ! 


to  the  punishment  inflicted  on  M.  Aqtiilius  by  Mithridates.  In  The 
Shepherd's  Calendar,  however,  Lazarus  declares  himself  to  have 
seen  in  hell  "  a  great  number  of  wide  cauldrons  and  kettles, 
full  of  boyling  lead  and  oyle,  with  other  hot  metals  molten,  in  the 
which  were  plunged  and  dipped  the  covetous  men  and  women, 
for  to  fulfill  and  replenish  them  of  their  insatiate  covetise." 

Again,  in  an  ancient  bl.  1*  ballad,  entitled,  The  Dead  Mans 
Song: 

"  And  ladles  full  of  melted  gold 
"  Were  poured  downe  their  throotes." 

Mr.  M.  Mason  thinks  that  Flaminius  more  "  probably  alludes  to 
the  story  of  Marcus  Crassus  and  the  Parthians,  who  are  said  to 
have  poured  molten  gold  down  his  throat,  as  a  reproach  and 
punishment  for  his  avarice."  STEEVENS. 

9  Thou  disease  of ' ajriend,~\   So,  in  King  Lear: 

" my  daughter ; 

"  Or  rather,  a  disease"  &c.     STEEVENS. 

1  It  turns  in  less  than  two  nights  ?~\     Alluding  to  the  turning 
or  acescence  of  milk.     JOHNSON. 

2  passion  !~\  i.  e.  suffering.     So,  in  Macbeth: 

"  You  shall  offend  him,  and  extend  his  passion." 
i.  e.  prolong  his  suffering.     STEEVENS. 

3  Unto  his  honour,]   Thus  the  old  copy.     What  Flaminius 
seems  to  mean  is, — This  slave   (to  the  honour  of  his  character) 
has,  &c.     The  modern  editors  read — Unto  this  hour,  which  may 
be  right.     STEEVENS. 

I  should  have  no  doubt  in  preferring  the  modern  reading, 
unto  this  hour,  as  it  is  by  far  the  stronger  expression,  so  probably 
the  right  one.  M.  MASON. 

Mr.  Ritson  is  of  the  same  opinion.     STEEVENS. 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  81 

And,  when  he  is  sick  to  death,4  let  not  that  part  of 

nature5 

Which  my  lord  paid  for,  be  of  any  power 
To  expel  sickness,  but  prolong  his  hour  !6    [Exit. 

4 to  death,"]     If  these  words,  which  derange  the  metre, 

were  omitted,  would  the  sentiment  of  Flaminius  be  impaired  ? 

STEEVENS. 

s of  nature — ]      So  the  common  copies.     Sir  Thomas 

Hanmer  reads — nurture.     JOHNSON. 

Of  nature  is  surely  the  most  expressive  reading.  Flaminius 
considers  that  nutriment  which  Lucullus  had  for  a  length  of  time 
received  at  Timon's  table,  as  constituting  a  great  part  of  his 
animal  system.  STEEVENS. 

6 his  hour!~\     i.  e.  the  hour  of  sickness.     His  for  its. 

STEEVENS. 

His  in  almost  every  scene  of  these  plays  is  used  for  its,  but 
here,  I  think,  "  his  hour"  relates  to  Lucullus,  and  means  his 
life. 

If  my  notion  be  well  founded,  we  must  understand  that  the 
Steward  wishes  that  the  life  of  Lucullus  may  be  prolonged  only 
for  the  purpose  of  his  being  miserable;  that  sickness  may  "play 
the  torturer  by  small  and  small,"  and  "  have  him  nine  whole 
years  in  killing." — "  Live  loath'd  and  long!"  says  Timon  in  a 
subsequent  scene  ;  and  again  : 

"  Decline  to  your  confounding  contraries, 
"  And  yet  confusion  live  .'" 

This  indeed  is  nearly  the  meaning,  if,  with  Mr.  Steevens,  we 
understand  his  hour  to  mean  the  hour  of  sickness :  and  it  must 
be  owned  that  a  line  in  Hamlet  adds  support  to  his  interpreta- 
tion : 

"  This  physick  but  prolongs  thy  sickly  days."    MALONE. 

Mr.  Malone's  interpretation  may  receive  further  suoport  from 
a  passage  in  Coriolanus,  where  Menenius  says  to  the  Roman 
Sentinel :  "  Be  that  you  are,  long;  and  your  misery  increase 
with  your  age."  STEEVENS. 


VOL.  XIX. 


82  SIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m. 

SCENE  II. 

The  same.     A  puUick  Place. 
Enter  Lucius,  with  Three  Strangers. 

Luc.  Who,  the  lord  Timon?  he  is  my  very  good 
friend,  and  an  honourable  gentleman. 

1  STRAN.  We  know  him  for  no  less,7  though 
we  are  but  strangers  to  him.     But  I  can  tell  you 
one  thing,  my  lord,  and  which  I  hear  from  common 
rumours ;  now  lord  Timon's  happy  hours  are  done8 
and  past,  and  his  estate  shrinks  from  him. 

Luc.  Fye  no,  do  not  believe  it  j  he  cannot  want 
for  money. 

2  STRAN.  But  believe  you  this,  my  lord,  that, 
not  long  ago,  one  of  his  men  was  with  the  lord 
Lucullus,  to  borrow  so  many  talents  ; 9  nay,  urged 

7  We  know  him  for  no  less,~]  That  is,  "we  know  him  by  report 
to  be  no  less  than  you  represent  him,  though  we  are  strangers  to 
his  person.  JOHNSON. 

To  /moto,  in  the  present,  and  several  other  instances,  is  used 
by  our  author  for — to  acknowledge.  So,  in  Coriolanus,  Act  V. 
sc.  v: 

*' You  are  to  know 

"  That  prosperously  I  have  attempted,  and 
"  With  bloody  passage  led  your  wars — ."  £c. 

STEEVENS. 

8 are  done — ]      i.  e.  consumed.     See  Vol.  XIII.  p.  129, 

n.  5.     MALONE. 

9 to  borrow  so  many  talents;"]   Such  is  the  reading  of  the 

old  copy.  The  modern  editors  read  arbitrarily— -Jifty  talents. 
So  many  is  not  an  uncommon  colloquial  expression  for  an  inde- 
finite number.  The  Stranger  might  not  know  the  exact  sum. 

STEEVENS. 


sc.  ir.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  83 

extremely  for* t,  and  showed  what  necessity  belong- 
ed to't,  and  yet  was  denied. 

Luc.  How? 

2  STRAN.  I  tell  you,  denied,  my  lord. 

Luc.  What  a  strange  case  was  that?  now,  before 
the  gods,  I  am  ashamed  on't.  Denied  that  ho- 
nourable man  ?  there  was  very  little  honour  showed 
in't.  For  my  own  part,  I  must  needs  confess,  I 
have  received  some  small  kindnesses  from  him,  as 
money,  plate,  jewels,  and  such  like  trifles,  nothing 
comparing  to  his ;  yet,  had  he  mistook  him,  and 
sent  to  me,1  I  should  ne'er  have  denied  his  oc- 
casion so  many  talents." 


So,  Queen  Elizabeth  to  one  of  her  parliaments :  "  And  for 
me,  it  shall  be  sufficient  that  a  marble  stone  declare  that  a  queen 
having  reigned  such  a  time,  [i.  e.  the  time  that  she  should  have 
reigned,  whatever  time  that  might  happen  to  be,]  lived  and  died 
a  virgin." 

So,  Holinshed :  "  The  bishop  commanded  his  servant  to  bring 
him  the  book  bound  in  white  vellum,  lying  in  his  study,  in  such 
a  place."  We  should  now  write  in  a  certain  place. 

Again,  in  the  Account-book,  kept  by  Empson  in  the  time  of 
Henry  the  Seventh,  and  quoted  by  Bacon  in  his  History  of  that 
king: 

*'  Item,  Received  of  such  a  one  five  marks,  for  a  pardon  to 
be  procured,  and  if  the  pardon  do  not  pass,  the  money  to  be  re- 
paid." 

"  He  sold  so  muck  of  his  estate,  when  he  came  of  age," 
(meaning  a  certain  portion  of  his  estate,)  is  yet  the  phraseology 
of  Scotland.  MALOXE. 

1 yet,  had  he  mistook  Mm,  and  sent  to  mc,~\     We  should 

read:  mislook'd  him,  i.  e.  overlooked,  neglected  to  send  to  him. 

WARBURTON. 

I  rather  read,  yet  had  he  not  mistook  him,  and  sent  to  me. 

JOHNSOK. 

Mr.  Edwards  proposes  to  read — yet  had  he  missed  him.  Lucius 
has  just  declared  that  he  had  had  fewer  presents  from  Tiraon, 
than  Lucullus  had  received,  who  therefore  ought  to  have  been 
the  first  to  assist  him.  Yet,  says  he,  had  Timon  mistook  him,  or 

G  2 


84  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m. 


Enter  SERVILIUS. 

SER.  See,  by  good  hap,  yonder's  my  lord ;  I  have 
sweat  to  see  his  honour. — My  honoured  lord, — 

[To  Lucius. 

Luc.  Servilius  !  you  are  kindly  met,  sir.  Fare 
thee  well : — Commend  me  to  thy  honourable-vir- 
tuous lord,  my  very  exquisite  friend. 

SER.  May  it  please  your  honour,  my  lord  hath 
sent 

Luc.  Ha !  what  has  he  sent?  I  am. so  much  en- 
deared to  that  lord  ;  he's  ever  sending  :  How  shall 
I  thank  him,  thinkest  thou  ?  And  what  has  he  sent 
now  ? 

SER.  He  has  only  sent  his  present  occasion  now, 
my  lord  ;  requesting  your  lordship  to  supply  his  in- 
stant use  with  so  many  talents.3 

overlooked  that  circumstance,  and  sent  to  me,  I  should  not  have 
denied  &c.  STEEVENS. 

That  is,  "  had  he  (Timon)  mistaken  himself  and  sent  to  me, 
I  would  ne'er"  &c.  He  means  to  insinuate  that  it  would  have 
been  a  kind  of  mistake  in  Timon  to  apply  to  a  person  who  had 
received  such  trifling  favours  from  him,  in  preference  to  Lucul- 
lus,  who  had  received  much  greater;  but  if  Timon  had  made  that 
mistake,  he  should  not  have  denied  him  so  many  talents. 

M.  MASON. 

Had  lie  mistook  him,  means,  had  he  by  mistake  thought  him 
under  less  obligations  than  me,  and  sent  to  me  accordingly. 

HEATH. 

I  think  with  Mr.  Steevens  that  Jiim  relates  to  Timon,  and  that 
mistook  him  is  a  reflective  participle.  MA  LONE. 

* denied  his  occasion  so  many  talents.']     i.  e.  a  certain 

number  of  talents,  such  a  number  us  he  might  happen  to  want. 
This  passage,  as  well  as  a  former,  (see  n.  9,  p.  82,)  shows  that 
the  text  below  is  not  corrupt.  M  ALONE. 

,-•  ' ?"x-ith  so  many  talent*,"}     Such  again  is  the  reading  with 


sc.  ii.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  85 

Luc.  I  know,  his  lordship  is  but  merry  with  me ; 
He  cannot  want  fifty-five  hundred  talents. 

SER.  But  in  the  mean  time  he  wants  less,  my  lord. 
If  his  occasion  were  not  virtuous,4 
I  should  not  urge  it  half  so  faithfully.5 

Luc.  Dost  thou  speak  seriously,  Servilius  ? 

SER.  Upon  my  soul,  'tis  true,  sir. 

Luc.  What  a  wicked  beast  was  I,  to  disfurnish 
myself  against  such  a  good  time,  when  I  might  have 
shown  myself  honourable  ?  how  unluckily  it  hap- 
pened, that  I  should  purchase  the  dav  before  for  a 

which  the  old  copy  supplies  us.  Probably  the  exact  number  of 
talents  wanted  was  not  expressly  set  down  by  Shakspeare.  If 
this  was  the  case,  the  player  who  represented  the  character,  spoke 
of  the  first  number  that  was  uppermost  in  his  mind ;  and  the 
printer,  who  copied  from  the  playhouse  books,  put  down  an  in- 
definite for  the  definite  sum,  which  remained  unspecified.  The 
modern  editors  read  again  in  this  instance,  Jifty  talents.  Per- 
haps the  Servant  brought  a  note  with  him  which  he  tendered  to 
Lucullus.  STEEVENS. 

There  is,  I  am  confident,  no  error.  I  have  met  with  this  kind 
of  phraseology  in  many  books  of  Shakspeare's  age.  In  Julius 
CtEsar  we  have  the  phrase  used  here.  Lucilius  siiys  to  his  ad- 
versary : 

"  There  is  50  much,  that  thou  wilt  kill  me  straight." 

MALONE. 

4  If  his  occasion  lucre  not  virtuous,]  Virtuous  for  strong,  for- 
cible, pressing.  WARBURTON. 

The  meaning  may  more  naturally  be — If  he  did  not  want  it  for 
a  good  use.  JOHNSON. 

Dr.  Johnson's  explication  is  certainly  right. — We  had  before : 
"  Some  good  necessity  touches  his  friend."     MALONE. 

6 half  so  faithfully.]   Faithfully  for  fervently.  Therefore, 

without  more  ado,  the  Oxford  editor  alters  the  text  to  fervently. 
But  he  might  have  seen,  that  Shakspeare  M&e&faithfuMy  for  fer- 
vently, as  in  the  former  part  of  the  sentence  he  had  used  virtuous 
for  forcible.  WARBURTON. 

Zeal  or  fervour  usually  attending  fidelity.     MALONE. 


36  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  in. 

little  part,  and  undo  a  great  deal  of  honour  ?6 — 
Servilius,  now  before  the  gods,  I  am  not  able  to 
do't ;  the  more  beast,  I  say : — I  was  sending  to  use 
lord  Timon  myself,  these  gentlemen  can  witness; 
but  I  would  not,  for  the  wealth  of  Athens,  I  had 
done  it  now.  Commend  me  bountifully  to  his 
good  lordship ;  and  I  hope,  his  honour  will  con- 
ceive the  fairest  of  me,  because  I  have  no  power  to 

6  That  I  should  purchase  the  day  le fore  for  a  little  part,  and 
undo  a  great  deal  ofhonour?~]  Though  there  is  a  seeming  plau- 
sible antithesis  in  the  terms,  I  am  very  well  assured  they  are  cor- 
rupt at  the  bottom.  For  a  little  part  of  what  ?  Honour  is  the 
only  substantive  that  follows  in  the  sentence.  How  much  is  the 
antithesis  improved  by  the  sense  which  my  emendation  gives  ? 
**  That  I  should  purchase  for  a  little  dirt,  and  undo  a  great  deal 
of  honour !"  THEOBALD. 

This  emendation  is  received,  like  all  others,  by  Sir  Thomas 
Hanmer,  but  neglected  by  Dr.  Warburton.  I  think  Theobald 
right  in  suspecting  a  corruption ;  nor  is  his  emendation  inju- 
dicious, though  perhaps  we  may  better  read,  purchase  the  day 
before  for  a  little  park.  JOHNSON. 

I  am  satisfied  with  the  old  reading,  which  is  sufficiently  in  our 
author's  manner.  By  purchasing  what  brought  me  but  little 
honour,  I  have  lost  the  more  honourable  opportunity  of  supply- 
ing the  wants  of  my  friend.  Dr.  Farmer,  however,  suspects  a 
quibble  between  honour  in  its  common  acceptation,  and  honour 
(i.  e.  the  lordship  of  a  place,)  in  a  legal  sense.  See  Jacob's 
Dictionary.  STEEVENS. 

I  am  neither  satisfied  with  the  amendments  proposed,  or  with 
Steevens's  explanation  of  the  present  reading ;  and  have  little 
doubt  but  we  should  read  "  purchase  for  a  little  port"  instead 
of  part,  and  the  meaning  will  then  be — "  How  unlucky  was  I  to 
have  purchased,  but  the  day  before,  out  of  a  little  vanity,  and 
by  that  means  disabled  myself  from  doing  an  honourable  action." 
Port  means  show,  or  magnificence*  M.  MASON. 

I  believe  Dr.  Johnson's  reading  is  the  true  one.  I  once  sus- 
pected the  phrase  "  purchasejfor/*'  but  a  more  attentive  exami- 
nation of  our  author's  works  and  those  of  his  contemporaries, 
has  shown  me  the  folly  of  suspecting  corruptions  in  the  text, 
merely  because  it  exhibits  a  different  phraseology  from  that  used 
at  this  day.  MAI.ONK. 


sc.  u.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  87 

be  kind : — And  tell  him  this  from  me,  I  count  it 
one  of  my  greatest  afflictions,  say,  that  I  cannot 
pleasure  such  an  honourable  gentleman.  Good  Ser- 
vilius,  will  you  befriend  me  so  far,  as  to  use  mine 
own  words  to  him  ? 

SER.  Yes,  sir,  I  shall. 

Luc.  I  will  look  you  out  a  good  turn,  Servilius. — 

[Eacit  SERVILIUS. 

True,  as  you  said,  Timon  is  shrunk,  indeed ; 
And  he,  that's  once  denied,  will  hardly  speed. 

\_Exit  Lucius. 

1  STRAN.  Do  you  observe  this,  Hostilius  ?7 

2  STRAN.  Ay,  too  well. 
1  STRAN.  Why  this 

Is  the  world's  soul;  and  just  of  the  same  piece 
Is  every  flatterer's  spirit.8     Who  can  call  him 


'  Do  you  observe  this,  Hostilius?']    I  am  willing  to  believe,  for 
the  sake  of  metre,  that  our  author  wrote: 
Observe  you  this,  Hostilius  ? 

Ay,  too  ivell.    STEEVENS. 

s -flatterer's  spirit.]   This  is  Dr.  Warburton's  emendation. 

The  other  [modern]  editions  read: 

Why,  this  is  the  "world's  soul ; 

And  just  of  the  same  piece  is  every  flatterer's  sport. 
Mr.  Upton  has  not  unluckily  transposed  the  two  final  words, 
thus: 

Why,  this  is  the  taorld's  sport ; 

Of  the  same  piece  is  every  flatterer's  soul. 

The  passage  is  not  so  obscure  as  to  provoke  so  much  enquiry. 
This,  says  he,  is  the  soul  or  spirit  of  the  world:  every  flatterer 
plays  the  same  game,  makes  sport  with  the  confidence  of  his 
friend.  JOHNSON. 

Mr.  M.  Mason  prefers  the  amendment  of  Dr.  Warburton  to 
the  transposition  of  Mr.  Upton.  STEEVENS. 

The  emendation,  spirit,  belongs  not  to  Dr.  Warburton,  but 
to  Mr.  Theobald.  The  word  was  frequently  pronounced  as  one 
syllable,  and  sometimes,  I  think,  written  sprite.  Hence  the 


88  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        AGT  m. 

His  friend,  that  dips  in  the  same  dish?9  for,  in 
My  knowing,  Timon  has  been  this  lord's  father, 
And  kept  his  credit  with  his  purse  ; 
Supported  his  estate  ;  nay,  Timon's  money 
Has  paid  his  men  their  wages :  He  ne'er  drinks, 
But  Timon's  silver  treads  upon  his-  lip  ; 
And  yet,  (O,  see  the  monstrousness  of  man 
When  he  looks  out  in  an  ungrateful  shape !) 
He  does  deny  him,  in  respect  of  his,1 
What  charitable  men  afford  to  beggars. 

3  STRAN.  Religion  groans  at  it. 

1  STRAN.  For  mine  own  part, 

I  never  tasted  Timon  in  my  life, 
Nor  came  any  of  his  bounties  over  me, 
To  mark  me  for  his  friend  ;  yet,  I  protest, 
For  his  right  noble  mind,  illustrious  virtue, 
And  honourable  carriage, 
Had  his  necessity  made  use  of  me, 

corruption  was  easy  ;  whilst  on  the  other  hand  it  is  highly  impro- 
bable that  two  words  so  distant  from  each  other  as  soul  and  sport 
[or  spirit^  should  change  places.  Mr.  Upton  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  look  into  the  old  copy;  but  finding  soul  and  sport  the 
final  words  of  two  lines  in  Mr.  Pope's  and  the  subsequent  edi- 
tions, took  it  for  granted  they  held  the  same  situation  in  the 
original  edition,  which  we  see  was  not  the  case.  I  do  not  believe 
this  speech  was  intended  by  the  author  for  averse.  MA  LONE. 

9 that  dips  in  the  same  dish  f]     This  phrase  is  scriptural : 

"  He  that  dippeth  his  hand  with  me  in  the  dish."  St.  Matthew, 
xxvi.  23.  STEEVENS. 

in  respect  of  his,~\     i.  e.  considering  Timon's  claim  for 


what  he  asks.     WARBURTON. 

In  respect  of  his  fortune  :  what  Lucius  denies  to  Timon  is  in 
proportion  to  what  Lucius  possesses,  less  than  the  usual  alms 
given  by  good  men  to  beggars.  JOHNSON. 

Does  not  his  refer  to  the  lip  of  Timon  ? — Though  Lucius  him- 
self drink  from  a  silver  cup  which  was  Timon's  gift  to  him,  he 
refuses  to  Timon,  in  return,  drink  from  any  cup.  HENLEY. 


ac.n.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  89 

I  would  have  put  my  wealth  into  donation, 
And  the  best  half  should  have  returned  to  him,2 


3  I  would  have  put  my  wealth  into  donation, 

And  the  best  half  should  have  return'd  to  him,"]    Sir  Thomas 
Hanmer  reads : 

/  would  have  put  my  wealth  into  partition, 

And  the  best  half  should  have  attorn'd  to  him, . 

Dr.  Warburton  receives  attorn' 'd.  The  only  difficulty  is  in  the 
word  return'd,  which,  since  he  had  receiv'd  nothing  from  him, 
cannot  be  used  but  in  a  very  low  and  licentious  meaning. 

JOHNSON. 

Had  his  necessity  made  use  of  me,  I  would  have  put  my  for- 
tune into  a  condition  to  be  alienated,  and  the  best  half  of  what  I 
had  gained  myself,  or  received  from  others,  should  have  found 
its  way  to  him.  Either  such  licentious  exposition  must  be  al- 
lowed, or  the  passage  remain  in  obscurity,  as  some  readers  may 
not  choose  to  receive  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  emendation. 

The  following  lines,  however,  in  Hamlet,  Act  II.  sc.  ii.  per- 
suade me  that  my  explanation  of— put  my  wealth  into  donation 
— is  somewhat  doubtful : 

"  Put  your  dread  pleasures  more  into  command 

"  Than  to  entreaty." 
Again,  in  Cymbeline,  Act  III.  sc.  iv : 

"  And  mad'st  me  put  into  contempt  the  suits 

*'  Of  princely  fellows,"  &c. 

Perhaps  the  Stranger  means  to  say,  I  would  have  treated  my 
wealth  as  a  present  originally  received  from  him,  and  on  this 
occasion  have  returned  him  the  half  of  that  whole  for  which  I 
supposed  myself  to  be  indebted  to  his  bounty.  Lady  Macbeth 
has  nearly  the  same  sentiment : 

" in  compt 

"  To  make  their  audit  at  your  highness'  pleasure, 

"  Still  to  return  your  own"     STEEVENS. 

The  difficulty  of  this  passage  arises  from  the  word  returned. 
Warburton  proposes  to  read  attorn9 d ;  but  that  word  always 
relates  to  persons,  not  to  things.  It  is  the  tenant  that  attorns, 
not  the  lands.  The  meaning  of  the  passage  appears  to  be  this : 
— "  Though  I  never  tasted  of  Timon's  bounty,  yet  I  have  such 
an  esteem  for  his  virtue,  that  had  he  applied  to  me,  I  should 
have  considered  my  wealth  as  proceeding  from  his  donation, 
and  have  returned  half  of  it  to  him  again."  To  put  his  wealth 
into  donation,  means,  to  put  it  down  in  account  as  a  donation, 
to  suppose  it  a  donation.  M.  MASON. 


90  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m. 

So  much  I  love  his  heart :  But,  I  perceive, 
Men  must  learn  now  with  pity  to  dispense : 
For  policy  sits  above  conscience.  \_Exeunt. 


SCENE  III. 

The  same.     A  Room  in  Sempronius's  House. 
Enter  SEMPRONIUS,  and  a  Servant  o/^Timon's. 

SEM.  Must  he  needs  trouble  me  in't  ?  Humph  ! 

'Bove  all  others  ? 

He  might  have  tried  lord  Lucius,  or  Lucullus ; 
And  now  Ventidius  is  wealthy  too, 

I  have  no  doubt  that  the  latter  very  happy  interpretation 
given  by  Mr.  Steevens  is  the  true  one.  Though  (says  the 
speaker)  I  never  tasted  Timon's  bounty  in  my  life,  I  would 
have  supposed  my  whole  fortune  to  have  been  a  gift  from  him, 
&c.  So,  in  the  common  phrase, — Put  yourself  [i.  e.  suppose 
yourself]  in  my  place.  The  passages  quoted  by  Mr.  Steevens 
fully  support  the  phrase — into  donation. 

"  Returned  to  him"  necessarily  includes  the  idea  of  having 
come  from  him,  and  therefore  cannot  mean  simply— -found  its 
tvay,  the  interpretation  first  given  by  Mr.  Steevens.  MALONE. 

I  am  dissatisfied  with  my  former  explanation ;  which  arose 
from  my  inattention  to  a  sense  in  which  our  author  very  fre- 
quently uses  the  verb — to  return;  i.  e.  to  reply.  Thus,  in  King 
Richard  II: 

"  Northumberland,  say — thus  the  king  returns; ." 

Again,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida: 

"  Returns  to  eluding  fortune :" 
i.  e.  replies  to  it.     Again,  in  King  Henry  V : 

" The  Dauphin 

**  Returns  us- — that  his  powers  are  not  yet  ready." 
The  sense  of  the  passage  before  us  therefore  will  be : — The 
best  half  of  my  wealth  should'  have  been  the  reply  I  would  have 
made  to  Timon :  I  would  have  answered  his  requisition  with  the 
best  half  of  what  I  am  worth.     STEEVENS. 


sc.  in.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  91 

Whom  he  redeem'd  from  prison  :3  All  these  three4 
Owe  their  estates  unto  him. 

SERV.  O  my  lord, 

They  have  all  been  touch'd,5  and  found  base  metal ; 

for 
They  have  all  denied  him. 

SEM.  How !  have  they  denied  him  ? 

Has  Ventidius6  and  Lucullus  denied  him  ? 
And  does  he  send  to  me  ?  Three  ?  humph ! — 
It  shows  but  little  love  or  judgment  in  him. 
Must  I  be  his  last  refuge  ?    His  friends,  like  phy- 
sicians, 


3  And  notu  Ventidius  is  "wealthy  too. 

Whom  he  redeem'd  from  prison '.•]    This  circumstance  like- 
wise occurs  in  the  anonymous  unpublished  comedy  of  Timon: 
"  O  yee  ingrateful !  have  I  freed  yee 
"  From  bonds  in  prison,  to  requite  me  thus, 
"  To  trample  ore  mee  in  my  misery  ?"     MALONE. 

4  these  three — ]   The  word  three  was  inserted  by  Sir  T. 

Hanmer  to  complete  the  measure ;  as  was  the  exclamation  O, 
for  the  same  reason,  in  the  following  speech.     STEEVENS. 

s  They  have  all  been  touch'd,]  That  is,  tried,  alluding  to  the 
touchstone.  JOHNSON. 

So,  in  King  Richard  III: 

"  O  Buckingham,  now  do  I  play  the  touch, 
"  To  try,  if  thou  be  current  gold,  indeed." 

STECVENS. 

6  Has  Ventidius  &c.]  With  this  mutilated  and  therefore 
rugged  speech  no  ear  accustomed  to  harmony  can  be  satisfied. 
Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  thus  reforms  the  first  part  of  it : 

Have  Lucius,  and  Ventidius,  and  Lucidlus, 

Denied  him  all  ?  and  does  he  send  to  me? 
Yet  we  might  better,  I  think,  read  with  a  later  editor: 

Denied  him,  say  you  ?  and  does  he  send  to  me  ? 

Three  ?  humph  ! 
.     It  shows  £c. 

But  I  can  only  point  out  metrical  dilapidations  which  I  profess 
my  inability  to  repair.     STEEVEXS. 


92  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m. 

Thrive,  give  him  over  ;7  Must  I  take  the  cure  upon 

me  ? 

7  His  friends,  like  physicians, 

Thrive,  give  him  ovcr;~]  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads,  try'd, 
plausibly  enough.  Instead  of  three  proposed  by  Mr.  Pope,  I 
should  read  thrice.  But  perhaps  the  old  reading  is  the  true. 

JOHNSON. 

Perhaps  we  should  read — shriv'd.  They  give  him  over  shriv'd; 
that  is,  prepared  for  immediate  death  by  shrift.  TYRWHITT. 

Perhaps  the  following  passage  in  Webster's  Dutchcss  of  Malfy, 
is  the  best  comment  after  all : 

" Physicians  thus 

"  With  their  hands  full  of  money,  use  to  give  o'er 
"  Their  patients." 

The  passage  will  then  mean: — "  His  friends,  like  physicians, 
thrive  by  his  bounty  and  fees,  and  either  relinquish,  and  forsake 
him,  or  give  his  case  up  as  desperate."     To  give  over  in  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew  has  no  reference  to  the  irremediable  con- 
dition of  a  patient,  but  simply  means  to  leave,  to  forsake,  to  quit: 
"  And  therefore  let  me  be  thus  bold  with  you 
"  To  give  you  over  at  this  first  encounter, 
"  Unless  you  will  accompany  me  thither."    STE EVENS. 

The  editor  of  the  second  folio,  the  first  and  principal  corruptcr 
of  these  plays,  for  Thrive,  substituted  Thriv'd,  on  which  the 
conjectures  of  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  and  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  were 
founded. 

The  passage  quoted  by  Mr.  Steevens  from  The  DutcJiess  of 
Malfy,  is  a  strong  confirmation  of  the  old  reading;  for  Webster 
appears  both  in  that  and  in  another  piece  of  his  ( The  White 
Devil)  to  have  frequently  imitated  Shakspeare.  Thus,  in  The 
Dutchess  of  Malfy,  we  find: 

" Use  me  well,  you  were  best ; 

"  What  I  have  done,  I  have  done ;  I'll  confess  nothing." 
Apparently  from  Othello  : 

"  Demand  me  nothing ;  what  you  know,  you  know ; 

"  From  this  time  forth  I  never  will  speak  word." 
Again,  the  Cardinal,  speaking  to  his  mistress  Julia,  who  had 
importuned  him  to  disclose  the  cause  of  his  melancholy,  says : 

" Satisfy  thy  longing; 

"  The  only  way  to  make  thee  keep  thy  counsel, 

"  Is,  not  to  tell  thee." 
So,  in  King  Henry  IF.  Part  I: 


so.  m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  93 

He  has  much  disgrac'd  me  in't ;  I  am  angry  at  him, 
That  might  have  known  my  place  :  I  see  no  sense 

for't, 

But  his  occasions  might  have  woo'd  me  first ; 
For,  in  my  conscience,  I  was  the  first  man 
That  e'er  receiv'd  gift  from  him  : 
And  does  he  think  so  backwardly  of  me  now, 
That  I'll  requite  it  last  ?    No  :  So  it  may  prove 
An  argument  of  laughter  to  the  rest, 

" for  secrecy 

"  No  lady  closer ;  for  I  well  believe 

"  Thou  wilt  not  utter  what  thou  dost  not  know." 
Again,  in  The  White  Devil: 

"  Terrify  babes,  my  lord,  with  painted  devils.'* 
So,  in  Macbeth: 

" 'tis  the  eye  of  childhood 

"  That  fears  a  painted  devil." 
Again,  in  The  White  Devil: 

" the  secret  of  my  prince, 

"  Which  I  will  wear  i'th'  inside  of  my  heart" 
Copied,  I  think,  from  these  lines  of  Hamlet : 

" Give  me  the  man 

"  That  is  not  passion's  slave,  andxl  will  tvear  him 

"  In  my  heart's  core,  ay,  in  my  heart  of  heart." 
The  White  Devil  was  not  printed  till  1612.  Hamlet  had  ap- 
peared in  1604.  See  also  another  imitation  quoted  in  a  note  on 
Cymbeline,  Act  IV.  sc.  iii. ;  and  the  last  scene  of  the  fourth  Act 
of  The  Dutchess  of  Malfy,  which  seems  to  have  been  copied 
from  our  author's  King  John,  Act  IV.  sc.  ii. 

The  Dutchess  of  Malfy  had  certainly  appeared  before  1619, 
for  Burbage,  who  died  in  that  year,  acted  in  it ;  I  believe,  be- 
fore 1616,  for  I  imagine  it  is  the  play  alluded  to  in  Ben  Jonson's 
Prologue  to  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  printed  in  that  year : 

"  To  make  a  child  new-swaddled  to  proceed 

"  Man,"  &c. 

So  that  probably  the  lines  above  cited  from  Webster's  play  by 
Mr.  Steevens,  were  copied  from  Timon  before  it  was  in  print ; 
for  it  first  appeared  in  the  folio,  1623.  Hence  we  may  conclude, 
that  thrive  was  not  an  error  of  the  press,  but  our  author's  origin- 
al word,  which  Webster  imitated,  not  from  the  printed  book, 
but  from  the  representation  of  the  play,  or  the  MS.  copy. 
It  is  observable,  that  in  this  piece  of  Webster's,  the  duchess, 


94  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  ni. 

And  I  amongst  the  lords  be  thought  a  fool.8 
I  had  rather  than  the  worth  of  thrice  the  sum, 
He  had  sent  to  me  first,  but  for  my  mind's  sake ; 
I  had  such  a  courage9  to  do  him  good.     But  now 

return, 

And  with  their  faint  reply  this  answer  join  ; 
Who  bates  mine  honour,  shall  not  know  my  coin. 

\JExit, 

SERV.  Excellent ! '  Your  lordship's  a  goodly  villain. 
The  devil  knew  not  what  he  did,  when  he  made 
man  politick;  he  crossed  himself  by't:  and  I  can- 
not think,  but,  in  the  end,  the  villainies  of  man  will 
set  him  clear.2  How  fairly  this  lord  strives  to  ap- 

who,  like  Desdemona,  is  strangled,  revives  after  long  seeming 
dead,  speaks  a  few  words,  and  then  dies.     MALONE. 

8  And  I  amongst  the  lords  be  thought  a  fool.']    [Old  copy — and 
'mongst  lords  be  thought  a  fool.~\    The  personal  pronoun  was  in- 
serted by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.     MALONE. 

I  have  changed  the  position  of  the  personal  pronoun,  and 
added  the  for  the  sake  of  metre,  which,  in  too  many  parts  of 
this  play,  is  incorrigible.  STEEVENS. 

9  1  had  such  fi  courage — ]     Such  an  ardour,  such  an  eager 
desire.     JOHNSON. 

1  Excellent !  &c.]  I  suppose  the  former  part  of  this  speech  to 
have  been  originally  written  in  verse,  as  well  as  the  latter; 
though  the  players  have  printed  it  as  prose  (omitting  several 
syllables  necessary  to  the  metre):  it  cannot  now  be  restored 
without  such  additions  as  no  editor  is  at  liberty  to  insert  in  the 
text.  STEEVENS. 

I  suspect  no  omission  whatsoever  here.     MALONE. 

*  The  devil  knew  not  what  he  did,  when  he  made  man  politick; 
he  crossed  himself  bi/t :  and  I  cannot  think,  but,  in  the  end,  the 
villainies  of  man  ivifl  set  him  clear.]  I  cannot  but  think,  that 
the  negative  not  has  intruded  into  this  passage,  and  the  reader 
will  think  so  too,  when  he  reads  Dr.  Warburton's  explanation 
of  the  next  words.  JOHNSON. 

will  set  him  clear.']  Set  him  clear  does  not  mean  acquit 

him  before  heaven  ;  for  then  the  devil  must  be  supposed  to  know 
what  he  did ;  but  it  signifies  puzzle  him,  outdo  him  at  his  own 
Aveapons.  WARBURTON. 


sc.  m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  95 

pear  foul !  takes  virtuous  copies  to  be  wicked ;  like 

How  the  devil,  or  any  other  being,  should  be  set  clear  by  be- 
ing puzzled  and  outdone,  the  commentator  has  not  explained. 
When  in  a  croud  we  would  have  an  opening  made,  we  say, 
Stand  clear,  that  is,  out  of  the  way  of  danger.  With  some  affi- 
nity to  this  use,  though  not  without  great  harshness,  to  set  clear, 
may  be  to  set  aside.  But  I  believe  the  original  corruption  is  the 
insertion  of  the  negative,  which  was  obtruded  by  some  transcri- 
ber, who  supposed  crossed  to  mean  thwarted,  when  it  meant, 
exempted  from  evil.  The  use  of  crossing  by  way  of  protection 
or  purification,  was  probably  not  worn  out  in  Shakspeare's  time. 
The  sense  of  set  clear  is  now  easy ;  he  has  no  longer  the  guilt  of 
tempting  man.  To  cross  himself  may  mean,  in  a  very  familiar 
sense,  to  clear  his  score,  to  get  out  of  debt,  to  quit  his  reckoning. 
He  knew  not  'what  he  did,  may  mean,  he  knew  not  how  much 
good  he  was  doing  himself.  There  is  no  need  of  emendation. 

JOHNSON. 

Perhaps  Dr.  Warburton's  explanation  is  the  true  one.  Clear 
is  an  adverb,  or  so  used  ;  and  Dr.  Johnson's  Dictionary  observes, 
that  to  set  means,  in  Addison,  to  embarrass,  to  distress,  to  per- 
plex.— If  then  the  devil  made  men  politick,  he  has  thwarted  his 
own  interest,  because  the  superior  cunning  of  man  will  at  last 
puzzle  him,  or  be  above  the  reach  of  his  temptations. 

TOLLET. 

Johnson's  explanation  of  this  passage  is  nearly  right ;  but  I 
don't  see  how  the  insertion  of  the  negative  injures  the  sense,  or 
why  that  should  be  considered  as  a  corruption.  Servilius  means 
to  say,  that  the  devil  did  not  foresee  the  advantage  that  would 
arise  to  himself  from  thence,  when  he  made  men  politick.  He 
redeemed  himself  by  it ;  for  men  will,  in  the  end,  become  so 
much  more  villainous  than  he  is,  that  they  will  set  him  clear;  he 
will  appear  innocent  when  compared  to  them.  Johnson  has 
rightly  explained  the  words,  "  he  crossed  himself  by  it." — So, 
in  Cymbeline,  Posthumus  says  of  himself — 

" It  is  I 

"  That  all  the  abhorred  things  o'the  earth  amend, 
"  By  being  worse  than  they."     M.  MASON. 

The  meaning,  I  think,  is  this: — The  devil  did  not  know 
"what  he  was  about,  [how  much  his  reputation  for  wickedness 
would  be  diminished]  ivhen  he  made  man  crafty  and  interested ; 
he  thwarted  himself  by  it;  [by  thus  raising  up  rivals  to  contend 
with  him  in  iniquity,  and  at  length  to  surpass  him ;]  and  I  can- 
not but  think  that  at  last  the  enormities  of  mankind  will  rise  to- 


96  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m. 

those  that,  under  hot  ardent  zeal,  would  set  whole 

realms  on  fire.3 

Of  such  a  nature  is  his  politick  love. 

This  was  my  lord's  best  hope  ;  now  all  are  fled, 

Save  the  gods  only:4  Now  his  friends  are  dead, 

such  a  height,  'as  to  make  even  Satan  himself,  in  comparison, 
appear  (what  he  would  least  of  all  wish  to  be)  spotless  and 
innocent. 

Clear  is  in  many  other  places  used  by  our  author  and  the  con- 
temporary writers,  for  innocent.  So,  in  The  Tempest: 

" nothing  but  heart's  sorrow, 

"  And  a  clear  life  ensuing.'* 
Again,  in  Macbeth: 

" —This  Duncan 

"  Hath  borne  his  faculties  so  meek,  hath  been 

"  So  clear  in  his  great  office, — ." 
Again,  in  the  play  before  us : 

"  Roots,  ye  clear  gods  !" 
Again,  in  Marlowe's  Lust's  Dominion,  1657: 

" 1  know  myself  am  clear 

"  As  is  the  new-born  infant."     MALONE. 

The  devil's  folly  in  making  man  politick,  is  to  appear  in  this, 
that  he  will,  at  the  long  run,  be  too  many  for  his  old  master,  and 
get  free  of  his  bonds.  The  villainies  of  man  are  to  set  himself 
clear,  not  the  devil,  to  whom  he  is  supposed  to  be  in  thraldom. 

RITSON. 

Concerning  this  difficult  passage,  I  claim  no  other  merit  than 
that  of  having  left  before  the  reader  the  notes  of  all  the  com- 
mentators. I  myself  am  in  the  state  of  Dr.  Warburton's  devil, — 
puzzled,  instead  of  being  set  clear  by  them.  STEEVENS. 

3  takes  virtuous  copies  to  bp  iviclced  ;  like  those  &c.]   This 

is  a  reflection  on  the  Puritans  of  that  time.     These  people  were 
then  set  upon  the  project  of  new-modelling  the  ecclesiastical 
and  civil  government  according  to  scripture  rules  and  exam- 
ples ;  which  makes  him  say,  that  under  zeal  for  the  word  of  God, 
they  Mould  set  whole  realms  on  fire.     So,  Sempronius  pretended 
to  that  warm  affection  and  generous  jealousy  of  friendship,  that 
is  affronted,  if  any  other  be  applied  to  before  it.     At  best  the 
similitude  is  an  aukward  one ;  but  it  fitted  the  audience,  though 
not  the  speaker.     WARBURTON. 

4  Save  the  gods  only  .•]     Old  copy — Save  only  the  gods.    The 
transposition  is  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's.     STEEVEN?. 


sc.  iv.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  97 

Doors,  that  were  ne'er  acquainted  with  their  wards 

Many  a  bounteous  year,  must  be  employ'd 

Now  to  guard  sure  their  master. 

And  this  is  all  a  liberal  course  allows ; 

Who  cannot  keep  his  wealth,  must  keep  his  house. 


SCENE  IV. 

The  same.     A  Hall  in  Timon's  House. 

Enter  Two  Servants  of  VARRO,  and  the  Servant  of 
Lucius,  meeting  TITUS,  HORTENSIUS,  and  other 
Servants  to  TIMON'S  Creditors,  'waiting  his  coming 
out. 

FAR.  SERV.  Well  met ;  good-morrow,  Titus  and 
Hortensius. 

TIT.  The  like  to  you,  kind  Varro. 

HOR.  Lucius  ? 

What,  do  we  meet  together  ? 

Luc.  SERV.  Ay,  and,  I  think, 

One  business  does  command  us  all ;  for  mine 
Is  money. 

TIT.        So  is  theirs  and  ours. 

5  keep  his  house.']     i.e.  keep  within  doors  for  fear  of 

duns.    JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Measure  for  Measure,  Act  III.  sc.  ii :  "  You  will  turn 
good  husband  now,  Pompey ;  you  will  keep  the  house." 

STEEVENS, 


VOL.  XIX.  H 


98  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m, 

Enter  PHILOTUS. 

Luc.  SERV.  And  sir 

Philotus  too ! 

Pm.  Good  day  at  once. 

Luc.  SERV.  Welcome,  good  brother. 

What  do  you  think  the  hour  ? 

Pm.  Labouring  for  nine. 

Luc.  SERV.  So  much  ? 

Pm.  Is  not  my  lord  seen  yet  ? 

Luc.  SERV.  Not  yet. 

PHI.  I  wonder  on't;  he  was  wont  to  shine  at 
seven. 

Luc.  SERV.  Ay,  but  the  days  are  waxed  shorter 

with  him : 

You  must  consider,  that  a  prodigal  course 
Is  like  the  sun's;6  but  not,  like  his,  recoverable. 
I  fear, 

'Tis  deepest  winter  in  lord  Timon's  purse ; 
That  is,  one  may  reach  deep  enough,  and  yet 
Find  little.7 

Pm.  I  am  of  your  fear  for  that. 

6  . a  prodigal  course 

Is  like  the  sun's;~\     That  is,  like  him  in  blaze  and  splendor. 
Soles  occidere  ci  redirc  possunt.     Catull.  JOHNSON. 

Theobald,  and  the  subsequent  editors,  elegantly  enough,  but 
without  necessity,  read — a  prodigal's  course.  We  have  the 
same  phrase  as  that  in  the  text  in  the  last  couplet  of  the  preced- 
ing scene : 

"  And  this  is  all  a  liberal  course  allows."     MALONE. 

7  reach  deep  enough,  and  yet 

Find  little.']  Still,  perhaps,  alluding  to  the  effects  of  winter, 
during  which  some  animals  are  obliged  to  seek  their  scanty  pro- 
vision through  a  depth  of  snow.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  iv.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  99 

TIT.  I'll  show  you  how  to  observe  a  strange  event. 
Your  lord  sends  now  for  money. 

HOR.  Most  true,  he  does. 

TIT.  And  he  wears  jewels  now  of  Timon' s  gift, 
For  which  I  wait  for  money. 

HOR.  It  is  against  my  heart. 

Luc.  SERV.  Mark,  how  strange  it  shows, 

Timon  in  this  should  pay  more  than  he  owes : 
And  e'en  as  if  your  lord  should  wear  rich  jewels, 
And  send  for  money  for  'em. 

HOR.  I  am  weary  of  this  charge,8  the  gods  can 

witness : 

I  know,  my  lord  hath  spent  of  Timon's  wealth, 
And  now  ingratitude  makes  it  worse  than  stealth. 

1  FAR.  SERV.  Yes,  mine's  three  thousand  crowns: 
What's  yours  ? 

Luc.  SERV.  Five  thousand  mine. 

1  VAR.  SERV.  'Tis  much  deep :  and  it  should  seem 

by  the  sum, 

Your  master's  confidence  was  above  mine ; 
Else,  surely,  his  had  equall'd.9 


3  /  am  iveary  of  this  charge,"]  That  is,  of  this  commission? 
of  this  employment.  JOHNSON. 

9  Else,  surely,  his  had  equalled.']  Should  it  not  be,  Else, 
surely,  mine  had  equalled.  JOHNSON. 

The  meaning  of  the  passage  is  evidently  and  simply  this :  Your 
master,  it  seems,  had  more  confidence  in  lord  Timon  than  mine, 
otherwise  his  (i.e.  my  master's)  debt  (i.e.  the  money  due  to 
him  from  Timon)  would  certainly  have  been  as  great  as  your 
master's  (i.  e.  as  the  money  which  Timon  owes  to  your  master ;) 
that  is,  my  master  being  as  rich  as  yours,  could  and  would  have 
advanced  Timon  as  large  a  sum  as  your  master  has  advanced 
him,  if  he,  (my  master)  had  thought  it  prudent  to  do  so. 

RlTSOK. 

The  meaning  may  be,  "  The  confidential  friendship  subsisting 

H  2 


100  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  in. 


Enter  FLAMINIUS. 

TIT.  One  of  lord  Timon's  men. 

Luc.  SERV.  Flaminius !  sir,  a  word :  'Pray,  is  my 
lord  ready  to  come  forth  ? 

between  your  master  [Lucius]  and  Timon,  was  greater  than  that 
subsisting  between  my  master  [Varro]  and  Timon ;  else  surely 
the  sum  borrowed  by  Timon  from  your  master  had  been  equal 
to,  and  no  greater  than,  the  sum  borrowed  from  mine  ;  and  this 
equality  would  have  been  produced  by  the  application  made  to 
my  master  being  raised  from  three  thousand  crowns  to  Jive 
thousand." 

Two  sums  of  unequal  magnitude  may  be  reduced  to  an 
equality,  as  well  by  addition  to  the  lesser  sum,  as  by  subtraction 
from  the  greater.  Thus,  if  A  has  applied  to  B  for  ten  pounds, 
and  to  C  for  five,  and  C  requests  that  he  may  lend  A  precisely 
the  same  sum  as  he  shall  be  furnished  with  by  B,  this  may  be 
done,  either  by  C's  augmenting  his  loan,  and  lending  ten  pounds 
as  well  as  B,  or  by  B's  diminishing  his  loan,  and,  like  C,  lending 
only  five  pounds.  The  words  of  Varro 's  servant  therefore  may 
mean,  Else  surely  the  same  sums  had  been  borrowed  by  Timon 
from  both  our  masters. 

I  have  preserved  this  interpretation,  because  I  once  thought  it 
probable,  and  because  it  may  strike  others  as  just.  But  the  true 
explication  I  believe  is  this  (which  I  also  formerly  proposed). 
His  may  refer  to  mine.  "  It  should  seem  that  the  confidential 
friendship  subsisting  between  your  master  and  Timon,  was  greater 
than  that  subsisting  between  Timon  and  my  master  ;  else  surely 
his  sum,  i.  e.  the  sum  borrowed  from  my  master,  [the  last  ante- 
cedent] had  been  as  large  as  the  sum  borrowed  from  yours." 

The  former  interpretation  (though  I  think  it  wrong,)  I  have 
stated  thus  precisely,  and  exactly  in  substance  as  it  appeared 
several  years  ago,  (though  the  expression  is  a  little  varied,)  be- 
cause a  REMARKER  [Mr.  Ritson]  has  endeavoured  to  represent 
it  as  unintelligible. 

This  Remarker,  however,  it  is  observable,  after  saying,  that 
he  shall  take  no  notice  of  such  see-saiv  conjectures,  with  great 
gravity  proposes  a  comment  evidently  formed  on  the  latter  of 
them,  as  an  original  interpretation  of  his  own,  on  which  the 
reader  may  safely  rely.  MA  LONE. 

It  must  be  perfectly  clear,  that  the  Remarker  could  not  be 


sc.  iv.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  101 

FLAM.  No,  indeed,  he  is  not. 

TIT.  We  attend  his  lordship ;  'pray,  signify  so 
much. 

FLAM.  I  need  not  tell  him  that ;  he  knows,  you 
are  too  diligent.  [Exit  FLAMINIUS. 


Enter  FLAVIUS  in  a  Cloak,  miiffled. 

Luc.  SERF.  Ha!  is  not  that  his  steward  muffled 

so? 
He  goes  away  in  a  cloud :  call  him,  call  him. 

TIT.  Do  you  hear,  sir  ? 

1  VAR.  SERV.  By  your  leave,  sir, 

FLAV.  What  do  you  ask  of  me,  my  friend  ? 
TIT.  We  wait  for  certain  money  here,  sir. 

FLAV.  Ay, 

If  money  were  as  certain  as  your  waiting, 
'Twere  sure  enough.     Why  then  preferred  you  not 
Your  sums  and  bills,  when  your  false  masters  eat 
Of  my  lord's  meat  ?  Then  they  could  smile,  and 

fawn 

Upon  his  debts,  and  take  down  th'  interest 
Into  their  gluttonous  maws.  You  do  yourselves  but 

wrong, 

To  stir  me  up  ;  let  me  pass  quietly : 
Believe't,  my  lord  and  I  have  made  an  end ; 
I  have  no  more  to  reckon,  he  to  spend. 

Luc.  SERV.  Ay,  but  this  answer  will  not  serve. 


indebted  to  a  note  which,  so  far  as  it  is  intelligible,  seems  dia- 
metrically opposite  to  his  idea.  It  is  equally  so,  that  the  editor 
[Mr.  Malone]  has  availed  himself  of  the  above  Remark,  to  vary 
the  expression  of  his  conjecture,  and  give  it  a  sense  it  would 
otherwise  never  have  had.  B.ITSON. 


102  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACTIII. 

FLAV.  If  'twill  not,1 

'Tis  not  so  base  as  you  j  for  you  serve  knaves. 


1  FAR.  SERF.  How  !    what  does   his   cashier'd 
worship  mutter  ? 

2  VAR.  SERV.  No  matter  what  ;  he's  poor,  and 
that's  revenge  enough.     Who  can  speak  broader 
than  he  that  has  no  house  to  put  his  head  in  ?  such 
may  rail  against  great  buildings. 

Enter  SERViLius.2 

TIT.  O,  here's  Servilius  ;  now  we  shall  know 
Some  answer. 

SER.  If  I  might  beseech  you,  gentlemenr 

To  repair  some  other  hour,  I  should  much 
Derive  from  it  :  3  for,  take  it  on  my  soul, 
My  lord  leans  wond'rously  to  discontent. 
His  comfortable  temper  has  forsook  him  ; 
He  is  much  out  of  health,  and  keeps  his  chamber. 

Luc.  SERV.  Many  do  keep  their  chambers,  are 

not  sick  : 

And,  if  it  be  so  far  beyond  his  health, 
Methinks,  he  should  the  sooner  pay  his  debts, 

1  If'twill  not,']     Old  copy  —  If  'twill  not  serve.     I  have  ven- 
tured to  omit  the  useless  repetition  of  the  verb  —  serve,  because 
it  injures  the  metre.     STEEVENS. 

2  Enter  Servilius.]  It  may  be  observed  that  Shakspeare  has  un- 
skilfully filled  his  Greek  story  with  Roman  names.     JOHNSON. 

3  •  -  /  should  much 
Derive  from  it  :  &c.]  Old  copy  : 

—  —  —  —  -  —  —  /  should 

Derive  much  from  it  :  &c. 

For  this  slight  transposition,  by  which  the  metre  is  restored,  I 
am  answerable.     STEEVENS. 


so.  IY.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  103 

And  make  a  clear  way  to  the  gods. 

SEE.  Good  gods ! 

TIT.  We  cannot  take  this  for  an  answer,4  sir. 

FLAM.  \_Within.~]  Servilius,  help  ! — my  lord !  my 
lord ! — 

Enter  TIMON,  in  a  rage;  FLAMINIUS  following. 

TIM.  What,  are  my  doors  oppos'd  against  my 

passage  ? 

Have  I  been  ever  free,  and  must  my  house 
Be  my  retentive  enemy,  my  gaol  ? 
The  place,  which  I  have  feasted,  does  it  now, 
Like  all  mankind,  show  me  an  iron  heart  ? 

Luc.  SERF.  Put  in  now,  Titus. 

TIT.  My  lord,  here  is  my  bill. 

Luc.  SERF.  Here's  mine. 

HOR.  SERF.  And  mine,  my  lord.5 

BOTH  FAR.  SERF.  And  ours,  mv  lord. 

*          */ 

Pm.  All  our  bills. 


4  for  an  anstver,~]     The  article  an,  which  is  deficient  in 

the  old  copy,  was  supplied  by  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer. 

STEEVENS. 

s  ITor.  Serv.  And  mine,  mif  lord.~\  In  the  old  copy  this  speech 
is  given  to  Varro.  I  have  given  it  to  the  servant  of  Plortensius, 
(who  would  naturally  prefer  his  claim  among  the  rest,)  because 
to  the  following  speech  in  the  old  copy  is  prefixed,  2.  Var.  which 
from  the  words  spoken  [And  ours,  my  lord.]  meant,  I  conceive, 
the  two  servants  of  Varro.  In  the  modern  editions  this  latter 
speech  is  given  to  Caphis,  who  is  not  upon  the  stage. 

MALONE. 

This  whole  scene  perhaps  was  strictly  metrical,  when  it  came 
from  Shakspeare  ;  but  the  present  state-of  it  is  such,  that  it  can- 
not be  restored  but  by  greater  violence  than  an  editor  may  be 
allowed  to  employ.  1  have  therefore  given  it  without  the  least 
attempt  at  arrangement.  STEEVENS. 


104  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m. 

TIM.  Knock  me  down  with  'em  :6  cleave  me  to 
the  girdle. 

•    Luc. SERV.  Alas!  my  lord, 

TIM.  Cut  my  heart  in  sums. 

TIT.  Mine,  fifty  talents. 

TIM.  Tell  out  my  blood. 

Luc.  SERV.  Five  thousand  crowns,  my  lord. 

TIM.  Five  thousand  drops  pays  that.' — 
What  yours  ? — and  yours  ? 

1  FAR.  SERF.  My  lord, 

2  FAR.  SERV.  My  lord, 

TIM.  Tear  me,  take  me,  and  the  gods  fall  upon 
you !  [Exit. 

HOE.  'Faith,  I  perceive  our  masters  may  throw 
their  caps  at  their  money ;  these  debts  may  well  be 
called  desperate  ones,  for  a  madman  owes  'em. 

\_Exeunt. 

Re-enter  TIMON  and  FLAVIUS. 

TIM.  They  have  e'en  put  my  breath  from  me,  the 

slaves : 
Creditors ! — devils. 

FLAV.  My  dear  lord,- 


r'  Knock  me  doivn  "with  'em:~]  Timon  quibbles.  They  present 
their  written  bills;  he  catches  at  the  word,  and  alludes  to  the 
bills  or  battle-axes,  which  the  ancient  soldiery  carried,  and  were 
still  used  by  the  watch  in  Shakspeare's  time.  See  the  scene 
between  Dogberry,  &c.  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  Vol.  VI. 
p.  96,  n.  1.  Again,  in  Hey  wood's  If  you  kno'w  not  me  you  know 
Nobody,  1633,  Second  Part,  Sir  John  Gresham  says  to  his  cre- 
ditors :  "  Friends,  you  cannot  beat  me  down  with  your  bills.'" 
Again,  in  Decker's  Guls  Hornbook,  1609:  "  —  they  durst  not 
strike  down  their  customers  with  large  bills."  STEEVENS. 


sc.  m  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  105 

TIM.  What  if  it  should  be  so  ? 

FLAV.  My  lord, 

TIM.  I'll  have  it  so : — My  steward ! 
FLAV.  Here,  my  lord. 

TIM.  So  fitly  ?  Go,  bid  all  my  friends  again, 
Lucius,  Lucullus,  and  Sempronius  ;  all ; 
I'll  once  more  feast  the  rascals.7 

FLAV.  O  my  lord, 

You  only  speak  from  your  distracted  soul ; 
There  is  not  so  much  left,  to  furnish  out 
A  moderate  table. 

TIM.  Be't  not  in  thy  care  ;  go, 


7  So  fitly  ?  Go,  bid  all  my  friends  again, 
Lucius,  Lucullus,  and  Sempronius;  all: 
I'll  once  more  feast  the  rascals."]     Thus  the  second  folio; 
except  that,  by  an  apparent  error  of  the  press,  we  have^— • add 
instead  of  and. 

The  first  folio  reads : 

Lucius,  Lucidlus,  and  Sempronius  Vllorxa :  allt 

*      Pll  once  more  feast  tlie  rascals. 

Regularity  of  metre  alone  would  be  sufficient  to  decide  in  favour 
of  the  present  text,  which,  with  the  second  folio,  rejects  the 
fortuitous  and  unmeaning  aggregate  of  letters —  Vllorxa.  This 
Ullorxa,  however,  seems  to  have  been  considered  as  one  of  the 
"  inestimable  stones,  unvalued  jewels,"  which  "  emblaze  the 
forehead"  of  that  august  publication,  the  folio  1623 ;  and  has 
been  set,  with  becoming  care,  in  the  text  of  Mr.  Malone.  For 
my  own  part,  like  the  cock  in  the  fable,  I  am  content  to  leave 
this  gem  on  the  stercoraceous  spot  where  it  was  discovered. — 
Ullorxa  (a  name  unacknowledged  by  Athens  or  Rome)  must  (if 
meant  to  have  been  introduced  at  all)  have  been  a  corruption  as 
gross  as  others  that  occur  in  the  same  book,  where  we  find  Bil- 
lingsgate instead  of  Basing-stoke;  Epton  instead  of  Hyperion; 
and  an  ace  instead  of  Ate.  Types,  indeed,  shook  out  of  a  hat, 
or  shot  from  a  dice-box,  would  often  assume  forms  as  legitimate 
as  the  proper  names  transmitted  to  us  by  Messieurs  Flemings, 
Condell,  and  C°.  who  very  probably  did  not  accustom  themselves 
to  spell  even  their  own  appellations  with  accuracy,  or  always  in 
the  same  manner.  STEEYENS. 


106  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  m. 

I  charge  thee  ;  invite  them  all :  let  in  the  tide 
Of  knaves  once  more ;  my  cook  and  I'll  provide. 

\_Exeunt. 

SCENE  V. 

The  same.     The  Senate-House. 
The  Senate  sitting.    Enter  ALCIBIADES,  attended. 

1  SEN.  My  lord,  you  have  my  voice  to  it ;  the 

fault's 

Bloody ;  'tis  necessary  he  should  die  : 
Nothing  emboldens  sin  so  much  as  mercy. 

2  SEN.  Most  true  ;  the  law  shall  bruise  him.8 
ALCIB.  Honour,  health,  and  compassion  to  the 

senate ! 

1  SEN.  Now,  captain  ? 

ALCIB.  I  am  an  humble  suitor  to  your  virtues  ; 
For  pity  is  the  virtue  of  the  law, 
And  none  but  tyrants  use  it  cruelly. 
It  pleases  time,  and  fortune,  to  lie  heavy 
Upon  a  friend  of  mine,  who,  in  hot  blood, 
Hath  stepp'd  into  the  law,  which  is  past  depth 
To  those  that,  without  heed,  do  plunge  into  it. 
He  is  a  man,  setting  his  fate  aside,9 

8  shall  bruise  him.]     The  old  copy  reads — shall  bruise 

'em.     The  same  mistake  has  happened  often  in  these  plays.     In 
a  subsequent  line  in  this  scene  we  have  in  the  old  copy — with 
him,  instead  of — with  'em.     For  the  correction,  which  is  fully 
justified  by  the  context,  I  am  answerable.     MALONE. 

Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  also  reads — bruise  him.     STEEVENS. 

9  setting  his  fate  aside,']     i.  e.  putting  this  action  of  his, 

which  was  pre-determined  by  fate,  out  of  the  question. 

STEEVENS. 


sc.  v.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  107 

Of  comely  virtues : * 

Nor  did  he  soil  the  fact  with  cowardice ; 

(An  honour  in  him,  which  buys  out  his  fault,) 

But,  with  a  noble  fury,  and  fair  spirit, 

Seeing  his.  reputation  touch'd  to  death, 

He  did  oppose  his  foe  : 

And  with  such  sober  and  unnoted  passion 

He  did  behave  his  anger,  ere  'twas  spent,2 

As  if  he  had  but  prov'd  an  argument. 

1  He  is  a  man,  &c.]  I  have  printed  these  lines  after  the  ori- 
ginal copy,  except  that,  for  an  honour,  it  is  there,  and  honour. 
All  the  latter  editions  deviate  unwarrantably  from  the  original, 
and  give  the  lines  thus : 

He  is  a  man,  setting  his  fault  aside, 

Of  virtuous  honour,  which  buys  out  his  Jault ; 

Nor  did  he  soil  &c.     JOHNSON. 

This  licentious  alteration  of  the  text,  with  a  thousand  others 
of  the  same  kind,  was  made  by  Mr.  Pope.  MALONE. 

*  And  with  such  sober  and  unnoted  passion 

He  did  beha\e  his  anger,  ere  'twas  spent,  &c.]      Unnoted 
for  common,  bounded.     Behave,  for  curb,  manage. 

WARBURTON. 
I  would  rather  read : 

and  unnoted  passion 

He  did  behave,  ere  was  his  anger  spent. 

Unnoted  passion  means,  I  believe,  an  uncommon  command  of 
his  passion,  such  a  one  as  has  not  hitherto  been  observed.  Be- 
have his  anger  may,  however,  be  right.  In  Sir  W.  D' Avenant's 
play  of  The  Jmt  Italian,  1630,  behave  is  used  in  as  singular  ««i 
manner : 

"  How  well  my  stars  behave  their  influence." 
Again : 

« You  an  Italian,  sir,  and  thus 

"  Behave  the  knowledge  of  disgrace!" 
In  both  these  instances,  to  behave  is  to  manage.     STEEVENS. 

"  Unnoted  passion,"  I  believe,  means  a  passion  operating 
inwardly,  but  not  accompanied  with  any  external  or  boisterous 
appearances ;  so  regulated  and  subdued,  that  no  spectator  could 
note,  or  observe,  its  operation. 

The  old  copy  reads — He  did  behoove  &c.  which  does  not  afford 
any  very  clear  meaning.  Behave,  which  Dr.  Warburton  inter- 


108  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m. 

I  SEW.  You  undergo  too  strict  a  paradox,3 
Striving  to  make  an  ugly  deed  look  fair : 
Your  words  have  took  such  pains,  as  if  they  la- 

bour'd 

To  bring  manslaughter  into  form,  set  quarrelling 
Upon  the  head  of  valour ;  which,  indeed, 
Is  valour  misbegot,  and  came  into  the  world 
When  sects  and  factions  were  newly  born : 
He's  truly  valiant,  that  can  wisely  suffer 
The  worst  that  man  can  breathe;4  and  make  his 

wrongs 

prets  manage,  was  introduced  by  Mr.  Howe.  I  doubt  the  text 
is  not  yet  right.  Our  author  so  very  frequently  converts  nouns 
into  verbs,  that  I  have  sometimes  thought  he  might  have 
written — "  He  did  behalve  his  anger," — i.  e.  suppress  it.  So, 
Milton : 

" yet  put  he  not  forth  all  his  strength, 

"  But  check'd  it  mid-way." 

Behave,  however,  is  used  by  Spenser,  in  his  Fairy  Queen,  B.  I. 
c.  iii.  in  a  sense  that  will  suit  sufficiently  with  the  passage  before  us : 

"  But  who  his  limbs  with  labours,  and  his  mind 

"  Behaves  with  cares,  cannot  so  easy  miss." 
To  behave  certainly  had  formerly  a  very  different  signification 
from  that  in  which  it  is  now  used.     Cole,  in  his  Dictionary, 
1679,  renders  it  by  tracto,  which  he  interprets  to  govern,  or 
manage.     MALONE. 

On  second  consideration,  the  sense  of  this  passage,  (however 
perversely  expressed  on  account  of  rhyme,)  maybe  this:  "  He 
managed  his  anger  with  such  sober  and  unnoted  passion  [i.  e.  suf- 
fering, forbearance,]  before  it  was  spent,  [i.  e.  before  that  dispo- 
sition to  endure  the  insult  he  had  received,  was  exhausted,]  that 
it  seemed  as  if  he  had  been  only  engaged  in  supporting  an  argu- 
ment he  had  advanced  in  conversation."  Passion  may  as  well  be 
used  to  signify  suffering,  as  any  violent  commotion  of  the  mind: 
and  that  our  author  was  aware  of  this,  may  be  inferred  from  his 
introduction  of  the  Latin  phrase — "  hysterica  passio,"  in  King 
Lear.  See  also  Vol.  XVI.  p.  264-,  n.  7.  STEEVENS. 

3  You  undergo  too  strict  a  paradox,^   You  undertake  a  paradox 
too  hard.     JOHXSON. 

*  that  man  can  breathe  ;]  i.  e.  can  utter.     So  afterwards  : 

"  You  breathe  in  vain." 


ac.  v.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  109 

His  outsides ;  wear  them  like  his  raiment,  care- 
lessly ; 

And  ne'er  prefer  his  injuries  to  his  heart, 
To  bring  it  into  danger. 
If  wrongs  be  evils,  and  enforce  us  kill, 
What  folly  'tis,  to  hazard  life  for  ill  ? 

ALOIS.  My  lord, 

1  SEN.       You  cannot  make  gross  sins  look  clear ; 
To  revenge  is  no  valour,  but  to  bear. 

ALCIB.  My  lords,  then,  under  favour,  pardon  me, 
If  I  speak  like  a  captain. — 
Why  do  fond  men  expose  themselves  to  battle, 
And  not  endure  all  threatnings?5  sleep  upon  it, 
And  let  the  foes  quietly  cut  their  throats, 
Without  repugnancy  ?  but  if  there  be 
Such  valour  in  the  bearing,  what  make  we 
Abroad  ?G  why  then,  women  are  more  valiant, 
That  stay  at  home,  if  bearing  carry  it ; 
And  th5  ass,  more  captain  than  the  lion  ;  the  felon,7 

Again,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Having  ever  seen,  in  the  prenominate  crimes, 
"  The  youth  you  breathe  of,  guilty."     STEEVENS. 

5  threatnings  ?~]     Old  copy — threats.     This  slight,  but 

judicious  change,  is  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's.     In  the  next  line  but 
one,  he  also  added,  for  the  sake  of  metre, — but — .     STEEVENS. 

e  what  make  we 

Abroad?^    What  do  we,  or  what  have  ice  to  do  in  the  fold. 

JOHNSON. 
See  Vol.  V.  p.  162,  n.  5.     MALONE. 

7  And  th'  ass,  more  captain  than  the  lion;  &c.]  Here  is  an- 
other arbitrary  regulation,  [the  omission  of — captain']  the  ori- 
ginal reads  thus : 

"what  make  we 

Abroad?  why  then,  women  are  more  valiant 

That  stay  at  home,  if  bearing  carry  it: 

And  the  ass,  more  captain  than  the  lion, 

The  fellow,  loaden  with  irons,  wiser  than  the  judge, 

If  wisdom  &c. 


no  TIMON  OF  ATHENS*       ACT  m. 

Loaden  with  irons,  wiser  than  the  judge, 
If  wisdom  be  in  suffering.     O  my  lords, 
As  you  are  great,  be  pitifully  good : 
Who  cannot  condemn  rashness  in  cold  blood  ? 
To  kill,  I  grant,  is  sin's  extremest  gust;8 

I  think  it  may  be  better  adjusted  thus : 

what  make  ice 

Abroad?  why  then  the  "women  are  more  valiant 

That  stay  at  home; 

If  bearing  carry  it,  then  is  the  ass 

More  captain  than  the  lion;  and  the  felon 

Loaden  with  irons,  wiser  &c.     JOHNSON. 

//"bearing  carry  it ,-]    Dr.  Johnson  when  he  proposed  to 

connect  this  hemistich  with  the  following  line  instead  of  the  pre- 
ceding words,  seems  to  have  forgot  one  of  our  author's  favourite 
propensities.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  present  arrangement  is 
right. 

Mr.  Pope,  who  rejected  whatever  he  did  not  like,  omitted  the 
words — more  captain.  They  are  supported  by  what  Alcibiades 
has  already  said  : 

"  My  lords,  then,  under  favour,  pardon  me, 

"  If  I  speak  like  a  captain ." 

and  by  Shakspeare's  66th  Sonnet,  where  the  word  captain  is 
used  with  at  least  as  much  harshness  as  in  the  text: 

"  And  captive  good  attending  captain  ill." 
Again,  in  another  of  his  Sonnets  : 

"  Like  stones  of  worth  they  thinly  placed  are, 

"  Or  captain  jewels  in  the  carkanet." 

Dr.  Johnson  with  great  probability  proposes  to  readjelon 
instead  of  fellow.  MALONE. 

The  word  captain  has  been  very  injudiciously  restored.  That 
it  cannot  be  the  author's  is  evident  from  its  spoiling  what  will 
otherwise  be  a  metrical  line.  Nor  is  his  using  it  elsewhere  any 
proof  that  he  meant  to  use  it  here.  RITSON. 

I  have  not  scrupled  to  insert  Dr.  Johnson's  emendation,  felon, 
for  fellow  in  the  text ;  but  do  not  perceive  how  the  line  can  be- 
come strictly  metrical  by  the  omission  of  the  word — captain, 
unless,  with  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer,  we  transpose  the  conjunction — 
and,  and  read : 

The  ass  more  than  the  lion,  and  the  felon, . 

STEEVENS. 

8  sins  extremest  gust;]   Gust,  for  aggravation. 

WARBURTON. 


ac.  v.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ill 

But,  in  defence,  by  mercy,  'tis  most  just.' 
To  be  in  anger,  is  impiety ; 
But  who  is  man,  that  is  not  angry  ? 
Weigh  but  the  crime  with  this. 

2  SEN.  You  breathe  in  vain. 

ALCIS.  In  vain  ?  his  service  done 

At  Lacedasmon,  and  Byzantium, 
Were  a  sufficient  briber  for  his  life. 

1  SEN.  What's  that  ? 

ALCIS.         Why,  I  say,1  my  lords,  h'as  done  fair 

service, 

And  slain  in  fight  many  of  your  enemies: 
How  full  of  valour  did  he  bear  himself 
In  the  last  conflict,  and  made  plenteous  wounds  ? 

2  SEN. He  has  made  too  much  plenty  with 'em,2  he 

Gust  is  here  in  its  common  sense ;  the  utmost  degree  of  appe* 
tite  for  sin.  JOHNSON. 

I  believe  gust  means  rashness.  The  allusion  may  be  to  a 
sudden  gust  qfivind.  STEEVENS. 

So  we  say,  it  was  clone  in  a  sudden  gust  of  passion. 

MALONE. 

9  — —  by  mercy,  'tis  most  Just.']  By  mercy  is  meant  equity. 
But  we  must  read : 

— 'tis  made  just.    WARBURTON. 

Mercy  is  not  put  for  equity.  If  such  explanation  be  allowed, 
what  can  be  difficult  ?  The  meaning  is,  1  call  mercy  herself  to 
witness,  that  defensive  violence  is  just.  JOHNSON. 

The  meaning,  I  think,  is,  Homicide  in  our  own  defence,  by  a 
merciful  and  lenient  interpretation  of  the  laws,  is  considered  as 
justifiable.  MALONE. 

Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  is  the  more  spirited  ;  but  a  passage 
in  King  John  should  seem  to  countenance  that  of  Mr.  Malone  : 
"  Some  sins  do  bear  their  privilege  on  earth, 
"  And  so  doth  yours ."     STEEVENS. 

1  Why,  I  say,']  The  personal  pronoun  was  inserted  by  the  editor 
of  the  second  folio.  MALONE. 


with  'em,]   The  folio — with  Am.     JOHNSOX. 


112  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  m. 

Is  a  sworn  rioter  :3  h'as  a  sin  that  often 
Drowns  him,  and  takes  his  valour  prisoner : 
If  there  were  no  foes,  that  were  enough  alone4 
To  overcome  him  :  in  that  beastly  fury 
He  has  been  known  to  commit  outrages, 
And  cherish  factions :  'Tis  inferred  to  us, 
His  days  are  foul,  and  his  drink  dangerous. 

1  SEX.  He  dies. 

ALCIB.       Hard  fate  !  he  might  have  died  in  war. 
My  lords,  if  not  for  any  parts  in  him, 
(Though  his  right  arm  might  purchase  his  own  time, 
And  be  in  debt  to  none,)  yet,  more  to  move  you, 
Take  my  deserts  to  his,  and  join  them  both : 
And,  for  I  know,  your  reverend  ages  love 
Security,  I'll  pawn5  my  victories,  all 
My  honour  to  you,  upon  his  good  returns. 
If  by  this  crime  he  owes  the  law  his  life, 
Why,  let  the  war  receiv't  in  valiant  gore  ; 
For  law  is  strict,  and  war  is  nothing  more. 

1  SEN.  We  are  for  law,  he  dies  j  urge  it  no  more, 

The  correction  was  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio. 

MALONE. 

3  Is  a  sworn  rioter:]      A  sworn  rioter  is  a  man  who  practises 
riot,  as  if  he  had  by  an  oath  made  it  his  duty.     JOHNSON. 

The  expression,  a  sworn  rioter,  seems  to  be  similar  to  that  of 
sworn  brothers.     See  Vol.  XII.  p.  320,  n.  2.     MALONE. 

4  alone — ]      This  word  was  judiciously  supplied  by  Sir 

Thomas  Hanmer,  to  complete  the  measure.     Thus,  in  All's  well 
that  ends  well: 

" Good  alone 

"  Is  good ."     STEEVENS* 


•your  reverend  ages  lone 


Security,  I'll  pawn  #c.]     He  charges  them  obliquely  with 
being  usurers.     JOHNSON. 

So  afterwards : 

" • banish  usury 

"  That  makes  the  senate  ugly."     MALONI;. 


sc.  r.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  us 

On  height  of  our  displeasure :  Friend,  or  brother, 
He  forfeits  his  own  blood,  that  spills  another. 

ALCIS.  Must  it  be  so?  it  must  not  be.  My  lords, 
I  do  beseech  you,  know  me. 

2  SEN.  How  ? 

ALCIS.  Call  me  to  your  remembrances.6 

3  SEN.  What  ? 

ALOIS.  I  cannot  think,  but  your  age  has  forgot 

me; 

It  could  not  else  be,  I  should  prove  so  base,7 
To  sue,  and  be  denied  such  common  grace  : 
My  wounds  ache  at  you. 

1  SEN.  Do  you  dare  our  anger  ? 

'Tis  in  few  words,  but  spacious  in  effect  j8 
We  banish  thee  for  ever. 

ALOIS.  Banish  me  ? 

Banish  your  dotage  ;  banish  usury, 
That  makes  the  senate  ugly. 

1  SEN.  If,  after  two  days'  shine,  Athens  contain 

thee, 
Attend  our  weightier  judgment.     And,   not  to 

swell  our  spirit,9 
He  shall  be  executed  presently.  [_Exeunt  Senators. 

—  remembrances']  is  here  used  as  a  word  of  five  syllables. 


In  the  singular  number  it  occurs  as  a  quadrisyllable  only.     See 
Twelfth-Night,  Act  I.  sc.  i  : 

"  And  lasting  in  her  sad  remembrance"     STEEVENS. 

7  -  /  should  prove  so  base,]     Base  for  dishonoured. 

WARBURTON. 

8  Do  you  dare  our  anger? 

'Tis  in  jeiu  words,  but  spacious  in  effects']     This  reading 
may  pass,  but  perhaps  the  author  wrote  : 

--  our  anger 


in  words,  but  spacious  in  effect.     JOHNSON. 
Andt  not  to  swell  our  spirit,']    I  believe,  means,  not  to  put 
VOL.  XIX.  I 


114  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  m. 

ALCIB.  Now  the  gods  keep  you  old  enough ; 

that  you  may  live 

Only  in  bone,  that  none  may  look  on  you ! 
I  am  worse  than  mad :  I  have  kept  back  their  foes, 
While  they  have  told  their  money,  and  let  out 
Their  coin  upon  large  interest ;  I  myself, 
Rich  only  in  large  hurts  ; — All  those,  for  this  ? 
Is  this  the  balsam,  that  the  usuring  senate 
Pours  into  captains'  wounds?  ha!  banishment?1 
It  comes  not  ill ;  I  hate  not  to  be  banish'd ; 
It  is  a  cause  worthy  my  spleen  and  fury, 
That  I  may  strike  at  Athens.     I'll  cheer  up 
My  discontented  troops,  and  lay  for  hearts. 
JTis  honour,  with  most  lands  to  be  at  odds ;2 
Soldiers  should  brook  as  little  wrongs,  as  gods. 

{Exit. 

ourselves  into  any  tumour  of  rage,  take  our  definitive  resolution. 

So,  in  King  Henry  VIII.  Act  III.  sc.  i : 

"  The  hearts  of  princes  kiss  obedience, 

"  So  much  they  love  it ;  but,  to  stubborn  spirits, 

"  They  sivell  and  grow  as  terrible  as  storms." 

STEEVENS. 

1 ha!  banishment  ?3  Thus  the  second  folio.  Its  ever- 
blundering  predecessor  omits  the  interjection,  ha!  and  conse- 
quently spoils  the  metre. — The  same  exclamation  occurs  in 
Romeo  and  Juliet; 

"  Ha!  banishment?  be  merciful,  say — death- 


STEEVENS. 


•  and  lay  for  hearts. 


9Tis  honour,  laith  most  lands  to  be  at  odds;~\  But  surely  even 
in  a  soldier's  sense  of  honour,  there  is  very  little  in  being  at  odds 
\vith  all  about  him;  which  shows  rather  a  quarrelsome  disposition 
than  a  valiant  one.  Besides,  this  was  not  Alcibiades's  case.  He 
was  only  fallen  out  with  the  Athenians.  A  phrase  in  the  fore- 
going line  will  direct  us  to  the  right  reading.  I  will  lay,  says  he, 
for  hearts;  which  is  a  metaphor  taken  from  card-play,  and  sig- 
nifies to  game  deep  and  boldly.  It  is  plain  then  the  figure  was 
continued  in  ths  following  line,  which  should  be  read  thus  : 

'Tis  honour  ivith  most  hands  to  be  at  odds; 
i  e.  to  fight  upon  odds,  or  at  disadvantage  ;  as  he  must  do  against 


sc.  n.  -         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  115 

SCENE  VI. 
A  magnificent  Room  in  Timon's  House. 

Mustek.  Tables  set  out:  Servants  attending.  Enter 
divers  Lords,3  at  several  Doors. 

1  LORD.  The  good  time  of  day  to  you,  sir. 

2  LORD.  I  also  wish  it  to  you.     I  think,  this 
honourable  lord  did  but  try  us  this  other  day. 

the  united  strength  of  Athens ;  and  this,  by  soldiers,  is  account- 
ed honourable.  Shakspeare  uses  the  same  metaphor  on  the  same 
occasion,  in  Coriolanus: 

"  He  lurck'd  all  swords."     WARBURTON. 

I  think  hands  is  very  properly  substituted  for  lands.  In  the 
foregoing  line,  for,  lay  for  hearts,  I  would  read,  play  for  hearts. 

JOHNSON. 

I  do  not  conceive  that  to  lay  for  hearts  is  a  metaphor  taken 
from  card-play,  or  that  lay  should  be  changed  into  play.  We 
should  now  say,  to  lay  out  for  hearts,  i.  e.  the  affections  of  the 
people  ;  but  lay  is  used  singly,  as  it  is  here,  by  Jonson,  in  The 
Devil  is  an  Ass,  [Mr.  Whalley's  edition]  Vol.  IV.  p.  33: 
"  Lay  for  some  pretty  principality."  TYRWHITT. 

A  kindred  expression  occurs  in  Marlowe's  Lust's  Dominion, 
1657: 

"  He  takes  up  Spanish  hearts  on  trust,  to  pay  them 
"  When  he  shall  finger  Castile's  crown."     MALONE. 

' Tis  honour,  ivith  most  lands  to  be  at  odds;~\  I  think,  with 
Dr.  Johnson,  that  lands  cannot  be  right.  To  assert  that  it  is 
honourable  to  fight  with  the  greatest  part  of  the  ivorld,  is  very 
•wild.  I  believe  therefore  our  author  meant  that  Alcibiades  in 
his  spleen  against  the  Senate,  from  whom  alone  he  has  received 
any  injury,  should  say  : 

'Tis  honour  "with  most  lords  to  be  at  odds.     MALONE. 

I  adhere  to  the  old  reading.  It  is  surely  more  honourable  to 
wrangle  for  a  score  of  kingdoms,  (as  Miranda  expresses  it,)  than 
to  enter  into  quarrels  with  lords,  or  any  other  private  adver- 
saries. STEEVENS. 

I  2 


116  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  in. 

I  LORD.  Upon  that  were  my  thoughts  tiring,4 
when  we  encountered :  I  hope,  it  is  not  so  low  with 
him,  as  he  made  it  seem  in  the  trial  of  his  several 
friends.. 


The  objection  to  the  old  reading  still  in  my  apprehension  re- 
mains." It  is  not  difficult  for  him  who  is  so  inclined,  to  quarrel 
with  a  lord ;  (or  with  any  other  person ;)  but  not  so  easy  to  be 
at  odds  with  his  land.  Neither  does  the  observation  just  made, 
prove  that  it  is  honourable  to  quarrel,  or  to  be  at  odds,  with  most 
of  the  lands  or  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  which  must,  I  conceive, 
be  proved,  before  the  old  reading  can  be  supported.  MALONE. 

By  'most  lands,  perhaps  our  author  means  greatest  lands.  So, 
in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  I.  Act  IV.  sc.  i : 

"  But  always  resolute  in  most  extremes." 

i.  e.  in  greatest.  Alcibiades,  therefore,  may  be  willing  to  regard 
a  contest  with  a  great  and  extensive  territory,  like  that  of 
Athens,  as  a  circumstance  honourable  to  himself.  STEEVENS. 

3  Enter  divers  Lords, *]  In  the  modern  editions  these  are  called 
Senators;  but  it  is  clear  from  what  is  said  concerning  the  banish-: 
ment  of  Alcibiades,  that  this  must  be  wrong.  I  have  therefore 
substituted  Lords.  The  old  copy  has  "  Enter  divers  friends." 

MALONE. 

*  Upon  that  tvere  my  thoughts  tiring,]  A  hawk,  I  think,  is 
said  to  tire,  when  she  amuses  herself  with  pecking  a  pheasant's 
wing,  or  any  thing  that  puts  her  in  mind  of  prey.  To  tire  upon 
a  thing,  is  therefore,  to  be  idly  employed  upon  it.  JOHNSON. 

I  believe  Dr.  Johnson  is  mistaken.     Tiring  means  here,  I 
ihink,Jixed, fastened,  as  the  hawk  fastens  its  beak  eagerly  on  its 
prey.     So,  in  our  author's  Venus  and  Adonis: 
"  Like  as  an  empty  eagle,  sharp  by  fast, 
"  Tires  with  her  beak  on  feathers,  flesh,  and  bone, — " 
Tiroucr,  that  is,  tiring  for  hawks,  as  Cotgrave  calls  it,  signi- 
fied any  thing  by  which  the  falconer  brought  the  bird  back,  and 
fixed  him  to  his  hand.     A  capon's  wing  was  often  used  for  this 
purpose. 

In  King  Henry  VI.  Part  II.  we  have  a  kindred  expression  : 

" your  thoughts 

"  Beat  on  a  crown."     MALONE. 

Dr.  Johnson's  explanation,  I  believe,  is  right.  Thus,  in  The 
Winter's  Tale,  Antigonus  is  said  to  be  "  woman-ftV'rf,"  i.  e. 
pecked  by  a  woman,  as  we  now  say,  with  a  similar  allusion,  hen- 
pecked,  STEEVENS. 


sc.  vi.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  117 

2  LORD.  It  should  not  be,  by  the  persuasion  of 
his  new  feasting. 

1  LORD.  I  should  think  so  :  He  hath  sent  me  an 
earnest  inviting,  which  many  my  near  occasions  did 
urge  me  to  put  off;  but  he  hath  conjured  me  be- 
yond them,  and  I  must  needs  appear. 

2  LORD.  In  like  manner  was  I  in  debt  to  my 
importunate  business,  but  he  would  not  hear  my 
excuse.     I  am  sorry,  when  he  sent  to  borrow  of 
me,  that  my  provision  was  out. 

1  LORD.  I  am  sick  of  that  grief  too,  as  I  under- 
stand how  all  things  go. 

2  LORD.  Every  man  here's  so.     What  would  he 
have  borrowed  of  you  ? 

1  LORD.  A  thousand  pieces. 

2  LORD.  A  thousand  pieces ! 
1  LORD.  What  of  you? 

3  LORD.  He  sent  to  me,  sir, — Here  he  comes. 

Enter  TIMON,  and  Attendants. 

TIM.  With  all  my  heart,  gentlemen  both : — And 
how  fare  you  ? 

1  LORD.  Ever  at  the  best,  hearing  well  of  your 
lordship. 

2  LORD.  The  swallow  follows  not  summer  more 
willing,  than  we  your  lordship. 

TIM.  [Aside."]  Nor  more  willingly  leaves  winter ; 
such  summer-birds  are  men. — Gentlemen,  our  din- 
ner will  not  recompense  this  long  stay  :  feast  your 
ears  with  the  musick  awhile  ;  if  they  will  fare  so 
harshly  on  the  trumpet's  sound  :  we  shall  to't  pre- 
sently. 


1 1 8  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  in. 

1  LORD.  I  hope,  it  remains  not  unkindly  with 
your  lordship,  that  I  returned  you  an  empty  mes- 
senger. 

TIM.  O,  sir,  let  it  not  trouble  you. 

2  LORD.  My  noble  lord, 

TIM.  Ah,  my  good  friend !  what  cheer  ? 

[The  Banquet  brought  in* 

2  LORD.  My  most  honourable  lord,  I  am  e'en 
sick  of  shame,  that,  when  your  lordship  this  other 
day  sent  to  me,  I  was  so  unfortunate  a  beggar. 

TIM.  Think  not  on't,  sir. 

2  LORD.  If  you  had  sent  but  two  hours  before,— « 

TIM.  Let  it  not  cumber  your  better  remem- 
brance.5— Come,  bring  in  all  together. 

2  LORD.  All  covered  dishes ! 

1  LORD.  Royal  cheer,  I  warrant  you. 

3  LORD.   Doubt  not  that,  if  money,  and  the 
season  can  yield  it. 

1  LORD.  How  do  you  ?  What's  the  news  ? 
3  LORD.  Alcibiades  is  banished :  Hear  you  of  it? 
1  <§T  2  LORD.  Alcibiades  banished ! 
3  LORD.  'Tis  so,  be  sure  of  it. 

1  LORD.  How  ?  how  ? 

2  LORD.  I  pray  you,  upon  what  ? 

TIM.  My  worthy  friends,  will  you  draw  near? 

*  your  better  remembrance."]     i.  e.  your  good  memory: 

the  comparative  for  the  positive  degree.  •  See  Vol.  X.  p.  14/7» 

n.  7.     STEEVENS. 


?c.  vi.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  119 

3  LORD.  I'll  tell  you  more  anon.    Here's  a  noble 
/feast  toward.6 

2  LORD.  This  is  the  old  man  still. 

3  LORD.  Will't  hold  ?  will't  hold  ? 

2  LORD.  It  does :  but  time  will — and  so 

3  LORD.  I  do  conceive. 

TIM.  Each  man  to  his  stool,  with  that  spur  as  he 
would  to  the  lip  of  his  mistress  :  your  diet  shall  be 
in  all  places  alike.7  Make  not  a  city  feast  of  it,  to 
let  the  meat  cool  ere  we  can  agree  upon  the  first 
place  :  Sit,  sit.  The  gods  require  our  thanks. 

You  great  benefactors,  sprinkle  our  society  with 
thanlfulness.  For  your  own  gifts,  make  yourselves 
praised:  but  reserve  still  to  give,  lest  your  deities  be 
despised.  Lend  to  each  man  enough,  that  one  need 
not  lend  to  another:  for,  were  your  godheads  to  bor- 
row of  men,  men  would  forsake  the  gods.  Make 
the  meat  be  beloved,  more  than  the  man  that  gives  it. 
Let  no  assembly  of  twenty  be  without  a  score  of  vil- 
lains: If  there  sit  twelve  women  at  the  table,  let  a 
dozen  of  them  be — as  they  are. — The  rest  of  your 
fees,*  O  gods, — the  senators  of  Athens,  together 
with  the  common  lag9  of  people, — what  is  amiss  in 

6  Here's  a  noble  feast  toward.]     i.  e.  in  a  state  of  readiness. 
So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet : 

*'  We  have  a  foolish  trifling  banquet  towards." 

STEEVENS. 

7 your  diet  shall  be  in  all  places  alike.']     See  a  note  on 

The  Winter's  Tale,  Vol.  IX.  p.  236,  n.  1.     STEEVENS. 

3  The  rest  of  your  fees,]  We  should  read— -foes. 

WARBURTON. 

We  must  surely  read  foes  instead  of  fees.     I  find  no  sense  in 
the  present  reading.     M.  MASON. 

p the  common  lag — ]     Old  copy — leg.     Corrected  by 

Mr.  Rowe.     MALONE. 


120  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  m. 

them,  you  gods  make  suitable  for  destruction.  For 
these  my  present  friends, — as  they  are  to  me  nothing , 
so  in  nothing  bless  them,  and  to  nothing  they  are 
welcome. 

Uncover,  dogs,  and  lap. 

\_The  Dishes  uncovered  are  full  of  warm  Water. 

SOME  SPEAK.  What  does  his  lordship  mean  ? 
SOME  OTHER.  I  know  not. 

TIM.  May  you  a  better  feast  never  behold, 
You  knot  of  mouth -friends !  smoke,  and  hike-warm 

water 

Is  your  perfection.1     This  is  Timon's  last ; 
Who  stuck  and  spangled  you  with  flatteries, 
Washes  it  off,  and  sprinkles  in  your  faces 

[Throwing  Water  in  their  Faces. 
Your  reeking  villainy.     Live  loath'd,  and  long,2 
Most  smiling,  smooth,  detested  parasites, 
Courteous  destroyers,  affable  wolves,  meek  bears, 
You  fools  of  fortune,3  trencher-friends,  time's  flies,4 


The  Jag-end,  of  a  web  of  cloth  is,  in  some  places,  called  the 
lag-end.     STEEVENS. 

1  Is  your  perfection.]     'Your  perfection,  is  the  highest  of  your 
excellence.     JOHNSON. 

2 Live  loath*  d,  and  long,~\    This  thought  has  occurred 

twice  before': 


let  not  that  part 


"  Of  nature  my  lord  paid  for,  be  of  power 
"  To  expel  sickness,  but  prolong  his  hour." 
Again : 

"  Gods  keep  you  old  enough,"  &c.     STEEVENS. 

3 fools  of  fortune,"]  The  same  expression  occurs  in  Romeo 

and  Juliet  : 

"Oil  am  fortune's  fool."     STEEVENS. 

4 time's  Jlies,~\  Flies  of  a  season.     JOHNSON. 


sc.  vi.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  121 

Cap  and  knee  slaves,  vapours,  and  minute-jacks!5 
Of  man,  and  beast,  the  infinite  malady6 
Crust  you  quite  o'er ! — What,  dost  tHou  go  ? 
Soft,  take  thy  physick  first — thou  too, — and  thou ; — 
\_Throws  the  Dishes  at  them,  and  drives  them 

out. 

Stay,  I  will  lend  thee  money,  borrow  none. — 
What,  all  in  motion  ?  Henceforth  be  no  feast, 
Whereat  a  villain's  not  a  welcome  guest. 
Burn,  house  ;  sink,  Athens  !  henceforth  hated  be 
Of  Timon,  man,  and  all  humanity  !  [Exit. 

Re-enter  the  Lords,  'with  other  Lords  and  Senators. 

1  LORD.  How  now,  my  lords  ?7 

2  LORD.  Know  you  the  quality  of  lord  Timon's 
fury  ? 

3  LORD.  Pish  !  did  you  see  my  cap  ? 

4  LORD.  I  have  lost  my  gown. 

3  LORD.  He's  but  a  mad  lord,  and  nought  but 


So,  before : 

" one  cloud  of  winter  showers, 

"  These Jlies  are  couch'd."     STEEVENS. 

6 minute-jacks  !~\     Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  thinks  it  means 

Jack-a-lantern^  which  shines  and  disappears  in  an  instant. 
What  it  was  I  know  not ;  but  it  was  something  of  quick  mo- 
tion, mentioned  in  King  Richard  III.  JOHNSON. 

A  minute-jack  is  what  was  called  formerly  a  Jack  of  the  clock- 
house  ;  an  image  whose  office  was  the  same  as  one  of  those  at 
St.  Dunstan's  church  in  Fleet  Street.  See  note  on  King  Rich- 
ard III.  Vol.  XIV.  p.  44-1,  n.  3.  STEEVENS. 

6 the  infinite  malady — ]    Every  kind  of  disease  incident 

to  man  and  beast.     JOHNSON. 

7  HOIK  noiv,  my  lords?']  This  and  the  next  speecli  are  spoken 
by  the  newly  arrived  Lords.  MALONE. 


122  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  zr. 

humour  sways  him.  He  gave  me  a  jewel  the  other 
day,  and  now  he  has  beat  it  out  of  my  hat : — Did 
you  see  my  jewel  ? 

4  LORD.  Did  you  see  my  cap  ? 

2  LORD.  Here  'tis. 

4  LORD.  Here  lies  my  gown. 

1  LORD.  Let's  make  no  stay. 

2  LORD.  Lord  Timon's  mad. 

3  LORD.  I  feel't  upon  my  bones. 

4  LORD.  One  day  he  gives  us  diamonds,  next 

day  stones.8  [Exeunt. 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I. 

Without  the  Walls  of  Athens. 
Enter  TIMON. 

TIM.  Let  me  look  back  upon  thee,  O  thou  wall, 
That  girdlest  in  those  wolves  !  Dive  in  the  earth, 
And  fence  not  Athens!  Matrons,  turn  incontinent; 
Obedience  fail  in  children !  slaves,  and  fools, 
Pluck  the  grave  wrinkled  senate  from  the  bench, 

8 stoncs.~\  As  Timon  has  thrown  nothing  at  his  worth- 
less guests,  except  warm  water  and  empty  dishes,  I  am  induced, 
with  Mr.  Malone,  to  believe  that  the  more  ancient  drama  de- 
scribed in  p.  3,  had  been  read  by  our  author,  and  that  he  sup- 
posed he  had  introduced  from  it  the  "  painted  stones"  as  part  of 
his  banquet ;  though  in  reality  he  had  omitted  them.  The  pre- 
sent mention  therefore  of  such  missiles,  appears  to  want  pro- 
priety. STEEVENS. 


ac.  /.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  223 

And  minister  in  their  steads !  to  general  filths9 
Convert  o'the  instant,  green1  virginity  1 
Do't  in  your  parents'  eyes  !  bankrupts,  hold  fast ; 
Rather  than  render  back,  out  with  your  knives, 
And  cut  your  trusters'  throats!  bound  servants, 

steal ! 

Large-handed  robbers  your  grave  masters  are, 
And  pill  by  law  !  maid,  to  thy  master's  bed ; 
Thy  mistress  is  o'the  brothel !  *  son  of  sixteen, 
Pluck  the  lin'd  crutch  from  the  old  limping  sire, 
With  it  beat  out  his  brains !  piety,  and  fear, 
Religion  to  the  gods,  peace,  justice,  truth, 
Domestick  awe,  night-rest,  and  neighbourhood, 
Instruction,  manners,  mysteries,  and  trades, 
Degrees,  observances,  customs,  and  laws, 
Decline  to  your  confounding  contraries,3 
Andyet  confusion4live! — Plagues,  incident  to  men, 

8  — —  general Jilths — ]     i.  e.  common  sewers.     STEEVENS. 

1  — —  green — ~]     i.  e.  immature.     So,  in  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra : 

"  When  I  was  green  in  judgment ."     STEEVENS. 

1 o'the  brothel!]     So  the  old  copies.     Sir  Thomas  Han- 

mer  reads,  i'the  brothel.     JOHNSON. 

One  would  suppose  it  to  mean,  that  the  mistress  frequented  the 
brothel ;  and  so  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  understood  it.     RITSON. 


i  in ,  o'tn',  ana  a'tfi',  are  written  with  very 

seem  to  have  been  set  down  at  random  in  different  places. 

MALONE. 

"  Of  the  brothel"  is  the  true  reading.     So,  in  King  Lear, 
Act  II.  sc.  ii.  the  Steward  says  to  Kent,  "  Art  of  the  house  ?" 

STEEVENS. 

3 confounding  contraries,"]     \.  e.  contrarieties  whose  na- 
ture it  is  to  "waste  or  destroy  each  other.     So,  in  King  Henry  V : 

" as  doth  a  galled  rock 

"  O'erhang  and  jutty  his  confounded  base."     STEEVENS. 

4 yet  confusion — ]     Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads,  let  con- 


124  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  iv. 

Your  potent  and  infectious  fevers  heap 
On  Athens,  ripe  for  stroke !  thou  cold  sciatica, 
Cripple  our  senators,  that  their  limbs  may  halt 
As  lamely  as  their  manners !  lust  and  liberty5 
Creep  in  the  minds  and  marrows  of  our  youth  j 
That  'gainst  the  stream  of  virtue  they  may  strive, 
And  drown  themselves  in  riot !  itches,  blains, 
Sow  all  the  Athenian  bosoms ;  and  their  crop 
Be  general  leprosy  !  breath  infect  breath  ; 
That  their  society,  as  their  friendship,  may 
Be  merely  poison  !  Nothing  I'll  bear  from  thee, 
But  nakedness,  thou  detestable  town  ! 
Take  thou  that  too,  with  multiplying  banns  !5 
Timon  will  to  the  woods;  where  he  shall  find 
The  unkindest  beast  more  kinder  than  mankind. 
The  gods  confound  (hear  me,  you  good  gods  all,) 
The  Athenians  both  within  and  out  that  wall ! 
And  grant,  as  Timon  grows,  his  hate  may  grow 
To  the  whole  race  of  mankind,  high,  and  low ! 
Amen. 


fusion ;  but  the  meaning  may  be,  though  by  such  confusion  all 
things  seem  to  hasten  to  dissolution,  yet  let  not  dissolution  come, 
but  the  miseries  of  confusion  continue.  JOHNSON. 

5 liberty — ]     Liberty  is  here  used  for  libertinism.     So, 

in  The  Comedy  of  Errors  : 

"  And  many  such  like  liberties  of  sin;** 
apparently  meaning — libertines.     STEEVENS. 

6 multiplying  banns  /]  i.  e.  accumulated  curses.  Mul- 
tiplying for  multiplied :  the  active  participle  with  a  passive  signi- 
fication. See  Vol.  IV.  p.  237,  n.  3.  STEEVENS. 


ac.  ii.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  12,5 

SCENE  II. 

Athens.     A  Room  in  Timon's  House. 
Enter  FLAVius,7  with  Two  or  Three  Servants. 

1  SERF.  Hear  you,  master  steward,  where's  our 

master  ? 
Are  we  undone  ?  cast  off?  nothing  remaining  ? 

FLAV.  Alack,  my  fellows,  what  should  I  say  to 

you? 

Let  me  be  recorded8  by  the  righteous  gods, 
I  am  as  poor  as  you. 

1  SERF.  Such  a  house  broke ! 
So  noble  a  master  fallen!  All  gone!  and  not 
One  friend,  to  take  his  fortune  by  the  arm, 
And  go  along  with  him ! 

2  SERF.  As  we  do  turn  our  backs 
From  our  companion,  thrown  into  his  grave  ; 

So  his  familiars  to  his  buried  fortunes9 


7  Enter  Flavius,]   Nothing  contributes  more  to  the  exaltation 
of  Timon's  character  than  the  zeal  and  fidelity  of  his  servants. 
Nothing  but  real  virtue  can  be  honoured  by  domesticks ;  nothing 
but  impartial  kindness  can  gain  affection  from  dependants. 

JOHNSON. 

8  Let  me  be  recorded — ]     In  compliance  with  ancient  ellip- 
tical phraseology,  the  word  me,  which  disorders  the  measure, 
might  be  omitted.     Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads: 

Let  it  be  recorded  £c.     STEEVENS. 

-' to  his  buried  fortunes — ~]      So  the  old  copies.     Sir  T; 

Hanmer  reads  from;  but  the  old  reading  might  stand. 

JOHNSON. 

I  should  suppose  that  the  words  from,  in  the  second  line,  and 


126  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  ir. 

Slink  all  away ;  leave  their  false  vows  with  him, 

Like  empty  purses  pick'd  :  and  his  poor  self, 

A  dedicated  beggar  to  the  air, 

With  his  disease  of  all-shunn'd  poverty, 

Walks,  like  contempt,  alone. — More  of  our  fellows. 

,/ 

Enter  other  Servants. 

FLAV.  All  broken  implements  of  a  ruin'd  house. 

3  SERF.  Yet  do  our  hearts  wear  Timon's  livery, 
That  see  I  by  our  faces  ;  we  are  fellows  still, 
Serving  alike  in  sorrow :  Leak'd  is  our  bark  ; 
And  .we,  poor  mates,  stand  on  the  dying  deck, 
Hearing  the  surges  threat :  we  must  all  part 
Into  this  sea  of  air. 

FLAV.  Good  fellows  all, 

The  latest  of  my  wealth  I'll  share  amongst  you. 
Wherever  we  shall  meet,  for  Timon's  sake, 
Let's  yet  be  fellows;  let's  shake  our  heads,  and  say, 
As  'twere  a  knell  unto  our  master's  fortunes, 
We  have  seen  better  days.     Let  each  take  some ; 

[Giving  them  Money. 

Nay,  put  out  all  your  hands.  Not  one  word  more : 
Thus  part  we  rich  in  sorrow,  parting  poor.x 

Servants. 


to  in  the  third  line,  have  been  misplaced,  and  that  the  original 
reading  was : 

As  we  do  turn  our  backs 

To  our  companion  thrown  into  his  grave, 

So  his  familiars  from  his  buried  fortunes 

Slink  all  away  ; . 

When  we  leave  a  person,  we  turn  our  backs  to  him,  not  from 
him.     M.  MASON. 

So  his  familiars  to  his  buried  fortunes  &c.]  So  those  who 
were  familiar  to  his  buried  fortunes,  who  in  the  most  ample  man- 
ner participated  of  them,  slink  all  away,  &c.  MALONE. 


sc.  n.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  127 

O,  the  fierce  wretchedness2  that  glory  brings  "us! 
Who  would  not  wish  to  be  from  wealth  exempt, 
Since  riches  point  to  misery  and  contempt? 
Who'd  be  so  mock'd  with  glory  ?  or  to  live 
But  in  a  dream  of  friendship  ? 
To  have  his  pomp,  and  all  what  state  compounds, 
But  only  painted,  like  his  varnish'd  friends  ? 
Poor  honest  lord,  brought  low  by  his  own  heart ; 
Undone  by  goodness!  Strange,  unusual  blood,3 
When  man's  worst  sin  is,  he  does  too  much  good! 

rich  in  sorrow,  parting  poor.]     This  conceit  occurs 


again  in  King  Lear  : 

"  Fairest  Cordelia,  thou  art  most  rich,  being  poor" 

STEEVENS. 

z  0,  the  fierce  wretchedness — ]  I  believe  Jierce  is  here  used 
for  hasty,  precipitate.  Perhaps  it  is  employed  in  the  same  sense 
by  Ben  Jonson  in  his  Poetaster  : 

"  And  Lupus,  for  your  Jierce  credulity, 
"  One  fit  him  with  a  larger  pair  of  ears." 
In  King  Henry   VIII.  our  author  has  Jierce  vanities.     In  all 
instances  it  may. mean  glaring,  conspicuous,  violent.     So,  in  Ben 
Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair,  the  Puritan  says  : 

"  Thy  hobby-horse  is  an  idol,  &  Jierce  and  rank  idol.'* 
Again,  in  King  John  : 

"  O  vanity  of  sickness  1  Jierce  extremes 
"  In  their  continuance  will  not  feel  themselves." 
Again,  in  'Love's  Labour's  Lost  : 

"  With  all  the  Jierce  endeavour  of  your  wit." 

STEEVENS. 

-  Strange,  unusual  blood,]  Of  this  passage,  I  suppose, 
every  reader  would  wish  for  a  correction :  but  the  word,  harsh 
as  it  is,  stands  fortified  by  the  rhyme,  to  which,  perhaps,  it 
owes  its  introduction.  I  know  not  what  to  propose.  Perhaps — 

.Strange,  unusual  mood, 

may,  by  some,  be  thought  better,  and  by  others  worse. 

JOHNSON". 

In  The  Yorkshire  Tragedy,  1608,  attributed  to  Shakspeare, 
Hood  seems  to  be  used  for  inclination,  propensity: 

"  For  'tis  our  blood  to  love  what  we  are  forbidden." 
Strange,  unusual  blood,  may  therefore  mean,  strange  unusual 
disposition. 


128  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACTIV. 

Who  then  dares  to  be  half  so  kind  again  ? 

For  bounty,  that  makes  gods,  does  still  mar  men. 

My  dearest  lord, — bless'd,  to  be  most  accurs'd, 

Rich,  only  to  be  wretched; — thy  great  fortunes 

Are  made  thy  chief  afflictions.     Alas,  kind  lord ! 

He's  flung  in  rage  from  this  ungrateful  seat 

Of  monstrous  friends  :  nor  has  he  with  him  to 

Supply  his  life,  or  that  which  can  command  it. 

I'll  follow,  and  inquire  him  out : 

I'll  serve  his  mind  with  my  best  will ; 

Whilst  I  have  gold,  I'll  be  his  steward  still.    \_Exit. 


SCENE    III. 

The  Woods. 
Enter  TIMON. 

TIM.  O  blessedbreeding  sun,  drawfromthe  earth 
Rotten  humidity ;  below  thy  sister's  orb4 
Infect  the  air  1  Twinn'd  brothers  of  one  womb, — 
Whose  procreation,  residence,  and  birth, 
Scarce  is  dividant, — touch  them  with  several  for- 
tunes ; 
The  greater  scorns  the  lesser:  Not  nature, 

Again,  in  the  5th  Book  of  Gower,  De  Confessione  Amantis, 

"  And  thus  of  thilke  unkinde  blood 

"  Slant  the  memorie  unto  this  daie." 

Gower  is  speaking  of  the  ingratitude  of  one  Adrian,  a  lord  of 
Rome.     STEEVENS. 

Throughout  these  plays  blood  is  frequently  used  in  the  sense 
of  natural  propensity  or  disposition.  See  Vol.  VI.  p.  73,  n.  5  ; 
and  p.  270,  n.  7.  MALONE. 

4. beloiv  thy  sister's  orb — ]  That  is,  the  moon's,  this 

sublunary  world.  JOHNSON. 


sc.  m.        TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  129 

To  whom  all  sores  lay  siege,  can  bear  great  fortune, 

But  by  contempt  of  nature.5 

liaise  me  this  beggar,  and  denude  that  lord ; 6 

* Not  nature, 

To  uhom  all  sores  lay  siege,  can  bear  great  fortune, 
But  by  contempt  of  nature.]  The  meaning  I  take  to  be  this: 
Brother,  when  his  fortune  is  enlarged,  will  scorn  brother ;  for 
this  is  the  general  depravity  of  human  nature,  which,  besieged 
as  it  is  by  misery,  admonished  as  it  is  of  want  and  imperfection, 
when  elevated  by  fortune,  will  despise  beings  of  nature  like  its 
own.  JOHNSON. 

Mr.  M.  Mason  observes,  that  this  passage  "  but  by  the  addi- 
tion of  a  single  letter  may  be  rendered  clearly  intelligible ;  by 
merely  reading  natures  instead  of  nature."  The  meaning  will 
then  be — "  Not  even  beings  reduced  to  the  utmost  extremity  of 
wretchedness,  can  bear  good  fortune,  without  contemning  their 
fellow-creatures." — The  word  natures  is  afterwards  used  in  a 
similar  sense  by  Apemantus : 

" Call  the  creatures 

"  Whose  naked  natures  live  in  all  the  spite 

"  Of  wreakful  heaven,"  &c. 

Perhaps,  in  the  present  instance,  we  ought  to  complete  the  mea- 
sure by  reading : 

not  those  natures, .     STEEVENS. 

But  by  is  here  used  for  without.    MA  LONE. 

6  Raise  me  this  beggar,  and  denude  that  lord;]  [Old  copy — 
deny't  that  lord.]  Where  is  the  sense  and  English  of  deny't 
that  lord?  Deny  him  what?  What  preceding  noun  is  there  to 
which  the  pronoun  it  is  to  be  referred  ?  And  it  would  be  absurd 
to  think  the  poet  meant,  deny  to  raise  that  lord.  The  antithesis 
must  be,  let  fortune  raise  this  beggar,  and  let  her  strip  and 
despoil  that  lord  of  all  his  pomp  and  ornaments,  &c.  which  sense 
is  completed  by  this  slight  alteration : 

and  denude  that  lord; . 

So,  Lord  Rea,  in  his  relation  of  M.  Hamilton's  plot,  written  in 
1650:  "  All  these  Hamiltons  had  denuded  themselves  of  their 
fortunes  and  estates."  And  Charles  the  First,  in  his  message  to 
the  parliament,  says  :  "Denude  ourselves  of  all." — Clar.  Vol.  III. 
p.  15,  octavo  edit.  WARBURTON. 

So,  as  Theobald  has  observed,  in  our  author's  Venus  and 
Adonis  : 

"  Pluck  down  the  rich,  enrich  the  poor  with  treasures." 

MALONE. 
VOL.  XIX.  K 


130  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  ir, 

The  senator  shall  bear  contempt  hereditary, 

The  beggar  native  honour. 

It  is  the  pasture  lards  the  brother's  sides,7 

Perhaps  the  former  reading,  however  irregular,  is  the  true 
one.  Raise  me  that  beggar,  and  deny  a  proportionable  degree 
of  elevation  to  that  lord.  A  lord  is  not  so  high  a  title  in  the 
state,  but  that  a  man  originally  poor  might  be  raised  to  one 
above  it.  We  might  read  devest  that  lord.  De-vest  is  an  English 
law  phrase,  which  Shakspeare  uses  in  King  Lear  : 

"  Since  now  we  will  devest  us  both  of  rule,"  &c. 
The  word  which  Dr.  Warburton  would  introduce  is  not,  however, 
uncommon.     I  find  it  in  The  Tragcdie  ofCrcesus,  1604: 
"  As  one  of  all  happiness  denuded."     STEEVENS. 

7  It  is  the  pasture  lards  the  brother's  sides,"]  This,  as  the  edi- 
tors have  ordered  it,  is  an  idle  repetition  at  the  best ;  supposing 
it  did,  indeed,  contain  the  same  sentiment  as  the  foregoing  lines. 
But  Shakspeare  meant  quite  a  different  thing  :  and  having,  like 
a  sensible  writer,  made  a  smart  observation,  he  illustrates  it  by  a 
similitude  thus : 

It  is  the  pasture  lards  the  wether's  sides, 

The  ivant  that  makes  him  lean. 

And  the  similitude  is  extremely  beautiful,  as  conveying  this  sa- 
tirical reflection;  there  is  no  more  difference  between  man  and 
man  in  the  esteem  of  supei'ficial  and  corrupt  judgments,  than 
between  a  fat  sheep  and  a  lean  one.  WARBUKTON. 

This  passage  is  very  obscure,  nor  do  I  discover  any  clear 
sense,  even  though  we  should  admit  the  emendation.  Let  us  in- 
spect the  text  as  it  stands  in  the  original  edition  : 

It  is  the  pastour  lards  the  brother's  sides, 

The  "want  that  makes  him  leave  : 
Dr.  Warburton  found  the  passage  already  changed  thus  : 

It  is  the  pasture  lards  the  beggar's  sides. 

The  tvant  that  makes  him  lean. 

And  upon  this  reading  of  no  authority,  raised  another  equally 
uncertain. 

Alterations  are  never  to  be  made  without  necessity.  Let  us 
see  what  sense  the  genuine  reading  will  afford.  Poverty,  says  the 
poet,  bears  contempt  hereditary,  and  wealth  native  honour.  To 
illustrate  this  position,  having  already  mentioned  the  case  of  a 
poor  and  rich  brother,  he  remarks,  that  this  preference  is  given 
to  wealth  by  those  whom  it  least  becomes ;  it  is  the  pastour  that 
greases  or  flatters  the  rich  brother,  and  will  grease  him  on  till 
wtxt  make  him  leave.  The  poet  then  goes  on  to  ask,  Who 


sc.  in.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  1.31 

The  want  that  makes  him  lean.     Who  dares,  who 
dares, 

dares  to  say  this  man,  this  pastour  is  a  flatterer;  the  crime  is 
universal ;  through  all  the  world  the  learned  pate,  with  allusion 
to  the  pastour,  ducks  to  the  golden  fool.  If  it  be  objected,  as  it 
may  justly  be,  that  the  mention  of  a  pastour  is  unsuitable,  we 
must  remember  the  mention  of  grace  and  cherubims  in  this  play, 
and  many  such  anachronisms  in  many  others.  I  would  therefore 
read  thus : 

It  is  the  pastour  lards  the  brother's  sides, 

'Tis  taant  that  makes  him  leave. 

The  obscurity  is  still  great.  Perhaps  a  line  is  lost.  I  have  at  least 
given  the  original  reading.  JOHNSON. 

Perhaps  Shakspeare  wrote  pasterer,for  I  meet  with  such  a  word 
in  Greene's  Farewell  to  Follie,  1617 :  "  Alexander,  before  he 
fell  into  the  Persian  delicacies,  refused  those  cooks  saidpasterers 
that  Ada  queen  of  Caria  sent  to  him."  There  is  likewise  a 
proverb  among  Ray's  Collection,  which  seems  to  afford  much 
the  same  meaning  as  this  passage  in  Shakspeare : — "  Every 
one  basteth  the  fat  hog,  while  the  lean  one  burneth."  Again,  in 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  Act  II : 

"  That  were  to  enlard  \nsjht-already  pride." 

STEEVENS. 

In  this  very  difficult  passage,  which  still  remains  obscure,  some 
liberty  may  be  indulged.  Dr.  Farmer  proposes  to  read  it  thus : 

It  is  the  pasterer  lards  the  broader  sides, 

The  gaunt  that  makes  him  leave. 

And  in  support  of  this  conjecture,  he  observes,  that  the  Saxon  d 
is  frequently  converted  into  th,  as  in  murther,  murder,  burthen, 
burden,  &c.  REED. 

That  the  passage  is  corrupt  as  it  stands  in  the  old  copy,  no 
one,  I  suppose,  can  doubt;  emendation  therefore  in  this  and  a 
few  other  places,  is  not  a  matter  of  choice  but  necessity.  I  have 
already  more  than  once  observed,  that  many  corruptions  have 
crept  into  the  old  copy,  by  the  transcriber's  ear  deceiving  him. 
In  Coriolanus  we  have  higher  for  hire,  and  hope  for  holp ;  in  the 
present  play  reverends  for  reverend* 'st ;  and  in  almost  every  play 
similar  corruptions.  In  King  Richard  II.  quarto,  1598,  we  find 
the  very  error  that  happened  here : 

" and  bedew 

"  Her  pastors1  grass  with  faithful  English  blood." 
Again,  in  As  you  like  it,  folio,  1623,  we  find,  "  I  have  heard 
him  read  many  lectors  against  it ;"  instead  of  lectures. 

K  2 


182  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  iv. 

In  purity  of  manhood  stand  upright, 

Pasture,  when  the  u  is  sounded  thin,  and  pastor,  are  scarcely 
distinguishable. 

Thus,  as  I  conceive,  the  true  reading  of  the  first  disputed 
word  of  this  contested  passage  is  ascertained.  In  As  you  like  it 
we  have — "  good  pasture  makes  fat  sheep."  Again,  in  the  same 
play; 

"  Anon,  a  careless  herd, 

"  Full  of  the  pasture,  jumps  along  by  him,"  &c. 

The  meaning  then  of  the  passage  is, — It  is  the  land  alone 
which  each  man  possesses  that  makes  him  rich,  and  proud,  and 
flattered ;  and  the  want  of  it,  that  makes  him  poor,  and  an  ob- 
ject of  contempt.  I  suppose,  with  Dr.  Johnson,  that  Shakspeare 
was  still  thinking  of  the  rich  and  poor  brother  already  described. 

I  doubt  much  whether  Dr.  Johnson  himself  was  satisfied  with 
his  far-fetched  explication  ofpastour,  as  applied  to  brother;  [See 
his  note.]  and  I  think  no  one  else  can  be  satisfied  with  it.  In 
order  to  give  it  some  little  support,  he  supposes  "  This  man's 
a  flatterer,"  in  the  following  passage,  to  relate  to  the  imaginary 
pastor  in  this;  whereas  those  words  indubitably  relate  to  any 
one  individual  selected  out  of  the  aggregate  mass  of  .mankind. 

Dr.  Warburton  reads — ivether's  sides ;  which  affords  a  com- 
modious sense,  but  is  so  far  removed  from  the  original  reading 
as  to  be  inadmissible.  Shakspeare,  I  have  no  doubt,  thought  at 
first  of  those  animals  that  are  fatted  by  pasture,  and  passed  from 
thence  to  the  proprietor  of  the  soil. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  that  he  might  have  written — the 
breathers  sides.  He  has  thrice  used  the  word  elsewhere.  "  I 
will  chide  no  breather  in  the  world  but  myself,"  says  Orlando  in 
As  you  like  it.  Again,  in  one  of  his  Sonnets: 

"  When  all  the  breathers  of  this  world  are  dead." 
Again,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  : 

"  She  shows  a  body,  rather  than  a  life; 
"  A  statue  than  a  breather" 

If  this  was  the  author's  word  in  the  passage  before  us,  it  must 
mean  every  living  animal.  But  I  have  little  faith  in  such  con- 
jectures. 

Concerning  the  third  word  there  can  be  no  difficulty.  Leanc 
was  the  old  spelling  of  lean,  and  the  u  in  the  MSS.  of  our 
author's  time  is  not  to  be  distinguished  from  an  n.  Add  to  this, 
that  in  the  first  folio  u  is  constantly  employed  where  v/e  now 
use  a  v;  and  hence,  by  inversion,  the  two  letters  were  often 
confounded  (as  they  are  at  this  day  in  almost  every  profif-sliect 
of  every  book  that  passes  through  the  press).  Of  this  I  have 


so.  in.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  133 

And  say,  This  man's  a  flatterer?*  if  one  be, 


given  various  instances  in  a  note  in  Vol.  V.  p.  191,  n.  3.     See 
also  Vol.  IX.  p.  412,  n.  9. 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  these  instances. 
This  very  word  leave  is  again  printed  instead  of  leane,  in  King 
Henry  IV.  Part  II.  quarto,  IfjOO: 

"  The  lives  of  all  your  loving  complices 
"  Leave  on  your  health." 

On  the  other  hand,  in  King  Henry  VIII.  1623,  we  have  leane 
instead  of  leave:  "  You'll  leane  your  noise  anon,  you  rascals." 
But  any  argument  on  this  point  is  superfluous,  since  the  context 
clearly  shows  that  Jean  must  have  been  the  word  intended  by 
Shakspeare. 

Such  emendations  as  those  now  adopted,  thus  founded  and 
supported,  are  not  capricious  conjectures,  against  which  no  one 
has  set  his  face  more  than  myself,  but  almost  certainties. 

This  note  has  run  out  into  an  inordinate  length, »for  which  I 
shall  make  no  other  apology  than  that  finding  it  necessary  to 
depart  from  the  reading  of  the  old  copy,  to  obtain  any  sense,  I 
thought  it  incumbent  on  me  to  support  the  readings  I  have 
chosen,  in  the  best  manner  in  my  power.  MALONE. 

As  a  brother  (meaning,  I  suppose,  n  churchman)  does  not, 
literally  speaking,  fatten  himself  by  feeding  on  land,  it  is  proba- 
ble that  pasture  signifies  eating  in  general,  without  reference  to 
terra Jirma.  So,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost: 

"  Food  for  his  rage,  Depasture  for  his  den." 

Pasture,  in  the  sense  of  nourishment  collected  from  fields, 
will  undoubtedly  fatten  the  sides  of  a  sheep  or  an  ox,  but  who 
ever  describes  the  owner  of  the  fields  us  having  derived  from 
them  his  embonpoint  ? 

The  emendation — lean  is  found  in  the  second  folio,  which 
should  not  have  been  denied  the  praise  to  which  it  is  entitled. 

Breather's  sides  can  never  be  right,  for  who  is  likely  to  grow 
fat  through  the  mere  privilege  of  breathing?  or  who  indeed  can 
receive  sustenance  without  it  ? 

The  reading  in  the  text  may  be  the  true  one ;  but  the  condi- 
tion in  which  this  play  was  transmitted  to  us,  is  such  as  will  war- 
rant repeated  doubts  in  almost  every  scene  of  it.  STEEVENS. 

8  And  srt?/,  This  man's  a  flatterer  ?~\  This  man  does  not  refer 
to  any  particular  person  before  mentioned,  as  Dr.  Johnson 
thought,  but  to  some  supposed  individual.  Who,  says  Timon, 
can  with  propriety  lay  his  hand  on  this  or  that  individual,  and 


134  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  ir. 

So  are  they  all ;  for  every  grize  of  fortune0 
Is  smooth'd  by  that  below  :  the  learned  pate 
Ducks  to  the  golden  fool :  All  is  oblique  ; 
There's  nothing  level  in  our  cursed  natures, 
But  direct  villainy.     Therefore,  be  abhorr'd 
All  feasts,  societies,  and  throngs  of  men  ! 
His  semblable,  yea,  himself,  Timon  disdains : 
Destruction    fang    mankind !' — Earth,   yield    me 

roots !  \_Dtgging. 

Who  seeks  for  better  of  thee,  sauce  his  palate 
With  thy  most  operant  poison  !  What  is  here  ? 
Gold  ?  yellow,  glittering,  precious  gold  ?  No,  gods, 
I  am  no  idle  votarist.2  Roots,  you  clear  heavens  ! 3 
Thus  much  of  this,  will  make  black,  white  j  foul, 

fair ; 
Wrong,  right ;  base,  noble  ;  old,  young ;  coward, 

valiant. 

pronounce  him  a  peculiar  flatterer  ?  All  mankind  are  equally 

flatterers.     So,  in  As  you  like  it: 

"  Who  can  come  in,  and  say,  that  I  mean  her, 

"  When  such  a  one  as  she,  such  is  her  neighbour  ?." 

MA  LONE. 

9 for  every  grize  of  fortune — ]   Grize  for  step  or  degree. 

POPE. 
See  Vol.  V.  p.  34-5,  n.  8.     MALONE. 

1 fang  mankind!]     i.  e.  seize,  gripe.     This  verb  is  used 

by  Decker  in  his  Match  me  at  London,  1631  : 

" bite  any  catchpole  that  fangs  for  you." 

STEEVENS. 

* no  idle  votarist.]   No  insincere  or  inconstant  supplicant. 

Gold  will  not  serve  me  instead  of  roots.     JOHNSON. 

3 you  clear  heavens!]   This  may  mean  either  ye  cloudless 

sfcies,  or  ye  deities  exempt  from  guilt.  Shakspeare  mentions  the 
clearest  gods  in  King  Lear;  and  in  Acolastus,  a  comedy,  154-0, 
a  stranger  is  thus  addressed :  "  JGood  stranger  or  alyen,  clere 
gest,"  &c.  Again,  in  The  Rape  of  Lucrece: 

"  Then  Collatine  again  by  Lucrece'  side, 
"  In  his  dear  bed  might  have  reposed  still." 
i.  e.  his  uncontaminated  bed.     STEEVENS. 

See  p.  95.    MALONE. 


sc.  m.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  13.5 

Ha,  you  gods !  why  this  ?  What  this,  you  gods  ? 

Why  this 

Will  lug  your  priests  and  servants  from  your  sides;4 
Pluck  stout  men's  pillows  from  below  their  heads:5 
This  yellow  slave 

Will  knit  and  break  religions  ;  bless  the  accurs'd; 
Make  the  hoar  leprosy6  ador'd ;  place  thieves, 
And  give  them  title,  knee,  and  approbation, 
With  senators  on  the  bench  :  this  is  it,7 
That  makes  the  wappen'd  widow  wed  again  ;8 

* Why  this 

Will  lug  your  priests  and  servants  from  your  sides;"]  Aris- 
tophanes, in  his  Plutus,  Act  V.  sc.  ii.  makes  the  priest  of  Jupiter 
desert  his  service  to  live  with  Plutus.  WARBUUTON. 

5  Pluck  stout  men's  pillows  from  below  their  heads :~]  i.  e. 
men  who  have  strength  yet  remaining  to  struggle  with  their  dis- 
temper. This  alludes  to  an  old  custom  of  drawing  away  the  pil- 
low from  under  the  heads  of  men  in  their  last  agonies,  to  make 
their  departure  the  easier.  But  the  Oxford  editor,  supposing 
stout  to  signify  healthy,  alters  it  to  sick,  and  this  he  calls  emend- 
ing. WAIIBURTON. 

6 the  hoar  leprosy — ]     So,  in  P.  Holland's  translation  of 

Pliny's  Natural  History,  Book  XXVIII.  ch.  xii :  "  —  the  foul 
white  leprie  called  elephantiasis.1"     STEEVENS. 

7 . this  is  it,~\     Some  word  is  here  wanting  to  the  metre. 

We  might  either  repeat  the  pronoun — this;  or  avail  ourselves  of 
our  author's  common  introductory  adverb,  emphatically  used — 
why,  this  it  is.     STEEVENS. 

8  That  makes  the  wappen'd  widow  wed  again ;~]  Waped  or 
wappen'd  signifies  both  sorrowful  and  terrified,  either  for  the 
loss  of  a  good  husband,  or  by  the  treatment  of  a  bad.  But  gold, 
he  says,  can  overcome  both  her  affection  and  her  fears. 

WARBURTON. 

Of  wappened  I  have  found  no  example,  nor  know  any  mean- 
ing. To  awhape  is  used  by  Spenser  in  his  Hubberd's  Tale,  but 
I  think  not  in  either  of  the  senses  mentioned.  I  would  read 
wained,  for  decayed  by  time.  So,  our  author,  in  King 
Richard  III: 

"  A  beauty -waining,  and  distressed  widow." 

JOHNSON. 


136  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.        ACT  iv. 

She,  whom  the  spital-house,  and  ulcerous  sores 

In  the  comedy  of  The  Roaring  Girl,  by  Middleton  and 
Decker,  1611,  I  meet  with  a  word  very  like  this,  which  the 
reader  will  easily  explain  for  himself,  when  he  has  seen  the  fol- 
lowing passage : 

"  Moll.  And  there  you  shall  wap  with  me. 

"  Sir  B,  Nay,  Moll,  what's  that  wap  ? 

"  Moll,   happening  and  niggling  is  all  one,  the  rogut 

my  man  can  tell  you." 
Again,  in  Ben  Jonson's  Masque  of  Gypsies  Metamorphosed: 

"  Boarded  at  Tappington, 

"  Bedded  at  IVappington." 

Again,  in  Martin  Mark-all's  Apologie  to  the  Bel-man  of  Lon- 
don, 1610:  "  Niggling  is  company-keeping  with  a  woman  :  this 
word  is  not  used  now,  but  capping,  and  thereof  comes  the  name 
ivapping-morts  for  whores."  Again,  in  one  of  the  Paston  Letters, 
Vol.  IV.  p.  417:  "  Deal  courteously  with  the  Queen,  &c.  and 
with  Mrs.  Anne  Hawte  for  wappys"  &c. 

Mr.  Amner  observes,  that  "  the  editor  of  these  same  Letters, 
to  wit,  Sir  John  Fenn,  (as  perhaps  becometh  a  grave  man  and  a 
magistrate,)  professeth  not  to  understand  this  passage." 

It  must  not,  however,  be  concealed,  that  Chaucer,  in  The 
Complaint  of  Annelida,  line  217,  uses  the  word  in  the  sense  iu 
which  Dr.  Warburton  explains  it : 

"  My  sewertye  in  waped  countenance." 

Wappened,  according  to  the  quotations  1  have  already  given, 
wo.uld  mean — -The  widow  whose  curiosity  and  passions  had  been 
already  gratified.  So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  The  instances  that  second  marriage  move, 

"  Are  base  respects  of  thrift,  but  none  o!-'  love" 
And  if  the  word  defunct,  in  Othello,  be  explained  according  to 
its  primitive  meaning,  the  same  sentiment  may  be  discovered 
there.  There  may,  however,  be  some  corruption  in  the  text. 
After  all,  I  had  rather  read — weeping  widow.  So,  in  the  ancient 
bl.  1.  ballad  entitled,  The  little  Barley  Come: 

"  'Twill  make  a  weeping  widow  laugh, 

"  And  soon  incline  to  pleasure."     STEEVENS. 

The  instances  produced  by  Mr.  Steevens  fully  support  the  text 
in  ray  apprehension,  nor  do  I  suspect  any  corruption.  Unwap- 
per'd  is  used  by  Fletcher  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  for  fresh, 
the  opposite  of  stale ;  and  perhaps  we  should  read  there  umvap- 
pen'd. 

Mr.  Steevens's  interpretation  however,  is,  I  think,  not  quite 
exact,  because  it  appears  to  me  likely  to  mislead  the  reader  with 
respect  to  the  general  import  of  the  passage.  Shakspeare  means 


so.  m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  137 

Would  cast  the  gorge  at,9  this  embalms  and  spices 

not  to  account  for  the  wappen'd  widow's  seeking  a  husband, 
(though  "  her  curiosity  has  been  gratified")  but  for  her  folding 
one.     It  is  her  gold,  says  he,  that  induces  some  one  (more  at- 
tentive to  thrift  than  lore)  to  accept  in  marriage  the  hand  of  the 
experienced  and  o'er-worn  widow. —  Wed  is  here  used  for  uiedded. 
So,  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors,  Act  I.  sc.  i : 
"  In  Syracusa  was  I  born,  and  wed 
"  Unto  a  woman,  happy  but  for  me." 

If  wed  is  used  as  a  verb,  the  words  mean,  that  effects  or  pro- 
duces her  second  marriage.  MALONE. 

I  believe,  unwapper'd  means  undebilitated  by  venery,  i.  e,  not 
halting  under  crimes  many  and  stale.  STEEVENS. 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt  explains  wap'd,  in  the  line  cited  from  Chaucer, 
by  stupified;  a  sense  which  accords  with  the  other  instances 
adduced  by  Mr.  Steevens,  as  well  as  with  Shakspeare.  The 
wappen'd  widow,  is  one  who  is  no  longer  alive  to  those  pleasures, 
the  desire  of  which  was  her  first  inducement  to  marry.  HENLEY. 

I  suspect  that  there  is  another  error  in  this  passage,  which  has 
escaped  the  notice  of  the  editors,  and  that  we  should  read — 
"  woo'd  again,"  instead  of  "  wed  again."  That  a  woman  should 
wed  again,  however  wapper'd,  [or  wappen'd]  is  nothing  extra- 
ordinary. The  extraordinary  circumstance  is,  that  she  should 
be  woo'd  again,  and  become  an  object  of  desire.  M.  MASON. 

9  She,  whom  the  spital-house,  and  ulcerous  sores 

Would  cast  the  gorge  at,~\    Surely  we  ought  to  read: 
She,  whose  ulcerous  sores  the  spital  house 
Would  cast  the  gorge  at, — — . 

Or,  should  the  first  line  be  thought  deficient  in  harmony — 
She,  at  whose  ulcerous  sores  the  spital-house 

Would  cast  the  gorge  up, . 

So,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen: 

"  And  all  the  way,  most  like  a  brutish  beast, 
"  He  spewed  up  his  gorge." 
The  old  reading  is  nonsense. 

I  must  add,  that  Dr.  Farmer  joins  with  me  in  suspecting  this 
passage  to  be  corrupt,  and  is  satisfied  with  the  emendation  I 
have  proposed.  STEEVENS. 

In  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  we  have  honour  and  death,  for  ho- 
nourable death.  "  The  spital-house  and  ulcerous  sores,"  there- 
fore may  be  used  for  the  contaminated  spital-house ;  the  spital- 
house  replete  with  ulcerous  sores.  If  it  be  asked,  how  can  the 
.spital-house,  or  how  can  ulcerous  sores,  cast  the  gorge  at  the  fe- 


138  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  iv. 

To  the  April  day  again.1     Come,  damned  earth, 

male  here  described,  let  the  following  passages  answer  the 

question : 

'*  Heaven  stops  the  nose  at  it,  and  the  moon  ivinks." 

Othello. 

Again,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Whose  spirit,  with  divine  ambition  puff'd, 
"  Makes  mouths  at  the  invincible  event." 

Again,  ibidem: 


•  till  our  ground 


"  Singeing  his  pate  against  the  burning  zone,"  £c. 
Again,  in  Julius  Ccesar: 

"  Over  thy  mounds  now  do  I  prophecy, — 

"  Which,  like  dumb  mouths,  do  ope  their  ruby  lipsy — ." 
Again,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice: 

" when  the  bag-pipe  sings  i'the  nose, — ." 

Again,  in  the  play  before  us : 

*' when  our  vaults  have  wept 

"  WTith  drunken  spilth  of  wine ." 

In  the  preceding  page,  all  sores  are  said  to  lay  siege  to  nature ; 
which  they  can  no  more  do,  if  the  passage  is  to  be  understood 
literally,  than  they  can  cast  the  gorge  at  the  sight  of  the  person 
here  described. — In  a  word,  the  diction  of  the  text  is  so  very 
Shakspearian,  that  I  cannot  but  wonder  it  should  be  suspected 
of  corruption. 

The  meaning  is, — Her  whom  the  spital-house,  however  pol- 
luted, would  not  admit,  but  reject  with  abhorrence,  this  em- 
balms, &c.  or,  (in  a  looser  paraphrase)  Her,  at  the  sight  of 
whom  all  the  patients  in  the  spital-house,  however  contami- 
nated, would  sicken  and  turn  away  with  loathing  and  abhor- 
rence, disgusted  by  the  view  of  still  greater  pollution,  than  any 
they  had  yet  experience  of,  this  embalms  and  spices,  &c. 

To  "  cast  the  gorge  of,"  was  Shakspeare's  phraseology.  So, 
in  Hamlet,  Act  V.  sc.  i :  "  How  abhorr'd  in  my  imagination  it 
is  !  my  gorge  rises  at  it." 

To  the  various  examples  which  I  have  produced  in  support  of 
the  reading  of  the  old  copy,  may  be  added  these : 

"  Our  fortune  on  the  sea  is  out  of  breath, 

"  And  sinks  rriost  lamentably." 

Antony  and  Cleopatra. 
Again,  ibidem  : 

"  Mine  eyes  did  sicken  at  the  sight." 
Again,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Even  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  fa ults." 


sc.ni.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  139 

Thou  common  whore  of  mankind,  that  put'st  odds 
Among  the  rout  of  nations,  I  will  make  thee 
Do  thy  right  nature.* — [March  afar  off.'] — Ha !  a 

drum  ? — Thou'rt  quick,3 
But  yet  I'll  bury  thee  :  Thou'lt  go,  strong  thief,4 


Again,  ibidem  : 

" we  will  fetters  put  upon  this  fear, 

"  Which  now  goes  to®  free-footed" 
/\gain,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida: 

"  His  evasions  have  ears  thus  long."     MALONE. 

1  To  the  April  day  again."]  That  is,  to  the  tvedding  day, 
called  by  the  poet,  satirically,  April  day,  or  fool's  day. 

JOHNSON. 

The  April  day  does  not  relate  to  the  ividou,  but  to  the  other 
diseased  female,  who  is  represented  as  the  outcast  of  an  hospital. 
She  it  is  whom  gold  embalms  and  spices  to  the  April  day  again  : 
\.  e.  gold  restores  her  to  all  the  freshness  and  sweetness  of  youth. 
,  Such  is  the  power  of  gold,  that  it  will — 

" make  black,  white ;  foul,  fair ; 

"  Wrong,  right;"  &c. 

A  quotation  or  two  may  perhaps  support  this  interpretation.  So, 
in  Sidney's  Arcadia,  p.  262,  edit.  1633  :  "  Do  you  see  how  the 
spring  time  is  full  of  flowers,  decking  itself  with  them,  and  not 
aspiring  to  the  fruits  of  autumn  ?  What  lesson  is  that  unto  you, 
but  that  in  the  April  of  your  age  you  should  be  like  April." 

Again,  in  Stephens's  Apology  for  Herodotus,  1607:  "  He  is 
a  young  man,  and  in  the  April  of  his  age"  Peacham's  Com- 
phat  Gentleman,  chap.  iii.  calls  youth  "  the  April  of  man's 
life."  Shakspeare's  Sonnet  entitled  Love's  Cruelty,  has  the 
same  thought : 

"  Thou  art  thy  mother's  glass,  and  she  in  thee 

"  Calls  back  the  lovely  April  of  her  prime." 
Daniel's  31st  Sonnet  has,  "  — the  April  of  my  years."  Master 
Fenton  "  smells  April  and  May."     TOLLET. 

*  Do  thy  right  nature.~\  Lie  in  the  earth  where  nature  laid 
thee.  JOHNSON. 

3  ThoiCrt  quick,']     Thou  hast  life  and  motion  in  thee. 

JOHNSON. 

4  '  •      strong  thief]   Thus,  Chaucer,  in  the  Pardonere's  Tale: 

"  Men  wolden  say  that  we  were  theeves  strong." 

STEEVENS. 


140  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  w. 

When  gouty  keepers  of  thee  cannot  stand : — 
Nay,  stay  thou  out  for  earnest. 

[Keeping  some  Gold. 

Enter  ALCIBIADES,  'with  Drum  and  Fife,  in  'warlike 
manner;  PHRYNIA  and  TIMANDRA. 

ALCIB.  What  art  thou  there  ? 

Speak. 

TIM.  A  beast,  as  thou  art.  The  canker  gnaw  thy 

heart, 
For  showing  me  again  the  eyes  of  man  ! 

ALCIB.  What  is  thy  name  ?  Is  man  so  hateful  to 

thee, 
That  art  thyself  a  man  ? 

TIM.  I  am  misanthropos,5  and  hate  mankind. 
For  thy  part,  I  do  wish  thou  wert  a  dog, 
That  I  might  love  thee  something. 

ALCIB.  I  know  thee  well ; 

But  in  thy  fortunes  am  unlearn* d  and  strange. 

TIM.  I  know  thee  too  j  and  more,  than  that  I 

know  thee, 

I  not  desire  to  know.     Follow  thy  drum ; 
With  man's  blood  paint  the  ground,  gules,  gules:6 
Religious  canons,  civil  laws  are  cruel  j 


*  I  am  misanthropos,]  A  marginal  note  in  the  old  translation 
of  Plutarch's  Life  of  Antony,  furnished  our  author  with  this  epi- 
thet: "  Antonius  followeth  the  life  and  example  of  Timon 
Misanthropies,  the  Athenian."  MALONE. 

0  gules,  gides:~\   Might  we  not  repair  the  defective  metre 

of  this  line,  by  adopting  a  Shakspearian  epithet,  and  reading — 

—  gules,  total  gules  ; 
as  in  the  following  passage  in  Hamlet: 

"  Now  is  he  total  gules."     STEEVENS. 


sc.  m.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  141 

Then  what  should  war  be  ?  This  fell  whore  of  thine 
Hath  in  her  more  destruction  than  thy  sword, 
For  all  her  cherubin  look. 

PHRY.  Thy  lips  rot  off! 

TIM.  I  will  not  kiss  thee;7  then  the  rot  returns 
To  thine  own  lips  again. 

ALCIB.  How  came   the  noble  Timon  to  this 
change  ? 

TIM.  As  the  moon  does,  by  wanting  light  to 

give : 

But  then  renew  I  could  not,  like  the  moon ; 
There  were  no  suns  to  borrow  of. 

ALCIB.  Noble  Timon, 

What  friendship  may  I  do  thee  ? 

TIM.  None,  but  to 

Maintain  my  opinion. 

ALCIB.  What  is  it,  Timon  ? 

TIM.  Promise mefriendship,butperform none:  If 
Thou  wilt  not  promise,3  the  gods  plague  thee,  for 
Thou  art  a  man !  if  thou  dost  perform,  confound 

thee, 
For  thou'rt  a  man ! 

7  /  will  not  kiss  thee ;~\  This  alludes  to  an  opinion  in  former 
times,  generally  prevalent,  that  the  venereal  infection  transmitted 
to  another,  left  the  infecter  free.  I  will  not,  says  Timon,  take 
the  rot  from  thy  lips,  by  kissing  thee.  JOHNSON. 

Thus,  The  Humourous  Lieutenant  says  : 

"  He  has  some  wench,  or  such  a  toy,  to  kiss  over, 
"  Before  he  go :  'would  I  had  such  another, 
"  To  draw  this  foolish  pain  down" 
See  also  the  fourth  Satire  of  Donne.     STEEVENS. 

8 If 

Thou  wilt  not  promise,  &c.]     That  is,  however  thou  may'st 
act,  since  thou  art  a  man,  hated  man,  I  wish  thee  evil. 

JOHNSONT. 


142  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  it. 

ALCIB.  I  have  heard  in  some  sort  of  thy  miseries. 
TIM.  Thou  saw'st  them,  when  I  had  prosperity. 
ALCIB.  I  see  them  now;  then  was  a  blessed  time.9 

TIM.  As  thine  is  now,  held  with  a  brace  of  har- 
lots. 

TIMAN.  Is  this  the  Athenian  minion,  whom  the 

world 
Voic'd  so  regardfully  ? 

TIM.  Art  thou  Timandra  ? 

TIMAN.  Yes. 

TIM.  Be  a  whore  still !  they  love  thee  not,  that 

use  thee ; 

Give  them  diseases,  leaving  with  thee  their  lust. 
Make  use  of  thy  salt  hours :  season  the  slaves 
For  tubs,  and  baths;1  bring  down  rose-cheeked 

youth 2 
To  the  tub-fast,  and  the  diet.3 

9  then  was  a  blessed  time.']     I  suspect,  from  Timon's 

answer,  that  Shakspeare  wrote — thine  was  a  blessed  time. 

MALONE. 

I  apprehend  no  corruption.    Now,  and  then,  were  designedly 
opposed  to  each  other.     STEEVENS. 

1  Be  a  whore  still !  they  love  thee  not,  that  use  thee; 
Give  them  diseases,  leaving  with  thee  their  lust. 
Make  use  of  thy  salt  hours:  &c.]      There  is  here  a  slight 
transposition.     I  would  read : 

they  love  thee  not  that  use  thee, 

Leaving  with  thee  their  lust ;  give  them  diseases, 
Make  use  of  thy  salt  hours,  season  the  slaves 
For  tubs,  and  baths; .     JOHNSON. 

bring  down  rose-cheeked  youth — ]     This  expressive 


epithet  our  author  might  have  found  in  Marlowe's  Hero  and 
Leander: 

"  Rosc-cheek'd  Adonis  kept  a  solemn  feast."    MALOXE. 

3   To  the  tub-fast,  and  the  diet.']    [Old  copy — fub-fa<st.~\   One 
might  make  a  very  long  and  vain  search,  yet  not  be  able  to  meet 


sc.  m.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  143 

TIMAN.  Hang  thee,  monster ! 

ALOIS.  Pardon  him,  sweet  Timandra;  for  his 
wits 

with  this  preposterous  word  fob-fast,  which  has  notwithstanding 
passed  current  with  all  the  editors.  We  should  read — tub-fast. 
The  author  is  alluding  to  the  lues  venerea  and  its  effects.  At 
that  time  the  cure  of  it  was  performed  either  by  guaiacum,  or 
mercurial  unctions :  and  in  both  cases  the  patient  was  kept  up 
very  warm  and  close ;  that  in  the  first  application  the  sweat 
might  be  promoted ;  and  lest,  in  the  other,  he  should  take  cold, 
which  was  fatal.  "  The  regimen  for  the  course  of  guaiacum 
(says  Dr.  Friend,  in  his  History  of  Physick,  Vol.  II.  p.  380,) 
was  at  first  strangely  circumstantial ;  and  so  rigorous,  that  the 
patient  was  put  into  a  dungeon  in  order  to  make  him  sweat ; 
and  in  that  manner,  as  Fallopius  expresses  it,  the  bones,  and 
the  very  man  himself  was  macerated."  Wiseman  says,  in  Eng- 
land they  used  a  tub  for  this  purpose,  as  abroad,  a  cave,  or  oven, 
or  dungeon.  And  as  for  the  unction,  it  was  sometimes  conti- 
nued for  thirty-seven  days,  ( as  he  observes,  p.  375, )  and  during 
this  time  there  was  necessarily  an  extraordinary  abstinence  re- 
quired. Hence  the  term  of  the  tub-fast.  WARBURTON. 

So,  in  Jasper  Maine's  City  Match,  1639: 
"  You  had  better  match  a  ruin'd  bawd, 
"  One  ten  times  cur'd  by  sweating,  and  the  tub." 
Again,  in  The  Family  of  Love,  1608,  a  doctor  says:  "  — O 
for  one  of  the  hoops  of  my  Cornelius'  tub,  I  shall  burst  myself 
with  laughing  else."  Again,  in  Monsieur  D' 'Olive,  1606:  "  Our 
embassage  is  into  France,  there  may  be  employment  for  thee : 
Hast  thou  a  tub  ?" 

The  diet  was  likewise  a  customary  term  for  the  regimen  pre- 
scribed in  these  cases.  So,  in  Springes  to  catch  Woodcocks,  a 
collection  of  Epigrams,  1606: 

"  Priscus  gave  out,  &c. • 

"  Priscus  had  tane  the  diet  all  the  while." 
Again,  in  another  collection  of  ancient  Epigrams  called  The 
Mastive,  &c. 

"  She  took  not  diet  nor  the  sweat  in  season." 
Thus,  also  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Knight  of  the  Burning 
Pestle : 

" whom  I  in  diet  keep 

"  Send  lower  down  into  the  cave, 
"  And  in  a  tub  that's  heated  smoaking  hot,"  &c. 
Again,  in  the  same  play : 


144  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  tr. 

Are  drown'd  and  lost  in  his  calamities. — 
I  have  but  little  gold  of  late,  brave  Timon, 
The  want  whereof  doth  daily  make  revolt 
In  my  penurious  band :   I  have  heard,  and  griev'd, 
How  cursed  Athens,  mindless  of  thy  worth, 
Forgetting  thy  great  deeds,  when  neighbour  states, 
But  for  thy  sword  and  fortune,  trod  upon  them,4 — 
TIM.  I  pr'ythee,  beat  thy  drum,  and  get  thee 

gone. 
ALCIB.    I  am  thy  friend,  and  pity  thee,   dear 

Timon. 
TIM.  How  dost  thou  pity  him,  whom  thou  dost 

trouble  ? 
I  had  rather  be  alone. 

" caught  us,  and  put  us  in  a  tub, 

11  Where  we  this  two  months  sweat,  &c. 

"  This  bread  and  water  hath  our  diet  been,"  &c. 

STEEVENS. 

The  preceding  lines,  and  a  passage  in  Measure  for  Measure, 
fully  support  the  emendation  : 

"  Truly,  sir,  she  [the  bawd]  hath  eaten  up  all  her  beef,  and 
she  is  herself  in  the  tub."     MALONE. 

In  the   Latin   comedy  of  Cornelianum  Dolium,  which  wask 
probably  written  by  T.  Randolph,  there  is  a  frontispiece  repre- 
senting the  sweating-tub,  which  from  the  name  of  the  unfortu- 
nate patient,  was  afterwards  called  Cornelius's  tub,  as  appears 
from  the  Dictionaries  of  Cotgrave  and  Howel.     Some  account 
of  the  sweating-tub  with  a  cut  of  it  may  be  seen  in  Ambrose 
Paraeus's  Works,  by  Johnson,  p.  48.     Another  very  particular 
representation  of  it  may  be  likewise  found  in  the  Recueil  de  Pro- 
verbes  par  Jacques  Lagniet,  with  the  following  lines : 
"  Pour  un  petit  plaisir  je  soufre  mille  maux ; 
"  Je  fais  coiitre  un  hyver  deux  este  ci  me  semble : 
"  Partout  le  corps  je  sue,  et  ma  machoir  tremble ; 
"  Je  ne  croy  jamuis  voir  la  fin  de  mes  travaux." 
For  another  print  of  this  tub,  see  Holmes's  Academy  of  Ar- 
mory.    DOUCE. 

4  — —trod  upon   them,']      Sir  Thomas   Hanmer  reads — had 
trod  upon  them.     Shakspeare  was  not  thus  minutely  accurate. 

MALONE. 


sc.  in.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  145 

ALCIB.  Why,  fare  thee  well : 

Here's  some  gold  for  thee. 

TIM.  Keep't,  I  cannot  eat  it. 

ALCIB.  When  I  have  laid  proud  Athens  on  a 
heap, 

TIM.  \Varr' st  thou  'gainst  Athens  ? 
ALCIB.  Ay,  Timon,  and  have  cause. 

TIM.  The  gods  confound  them  all  i'thy  con- 
quest ;  and 
Thee  after,  when  thou  hast  conquer'd ! 

ALCIB.  Why  me,  Timon  ? 

TIM.  That, 

By  killing  villains,  thou  wast  born  to  conquer 
My  country. 

Put  up  thy  gold ;  Go  on, — here's  gold, — go  on ; 
Be  as  a  planetary  plague,  when  Jove 
Will  o'er  some  high-vic'd  city  hang  his  poison 
In  the  sick  air : 5  Let  not  thy  sword  skip  one : 
Pity  not  honoured  age  for  his  white  beard, 
He's  an  usurer :  Strike  me  the  counterfeit  matron; 
It  is  her  habit  only  that  is  honest, 
Herself's  a  bawd  :  Let  not  the  virgin's  cheek 


*  Be  as  a  planetary  plague,  ivhen  Jove 
Will  o'er  some  high-vic'd  city  hang  his  poison 
In  the  sick  air:']     This  is  wonderfully  sublime  and  pictu- 
resque.    WARBURTON. 

We  meet  with  the  same  image  in  King  Richard  II: 

or  suppose 

"  Devouring  pestilence  hangs  in  our  air.*'     MALONE. 

The  same  idea  occurs  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  sixth 
Iliad: 

" and  therefore  hangs,  I  fear, 

"  A  plague  above  him."     STEEVENS. 
VOL.  XIX.  L 


146  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  iv. 

Make  soft  thy  trenchant  sword;6  for  those  milk- 
paps, 
That  through  the  window-bars  bore  at  men's  eyes,7 


0 thy  trenchant  siwrd;~]      So,    in  Philemon   Holland's 

translation  of  the  ninth  Book  of  Pliny's  Natural  History,  1601, 
p.  237 :  "  — they  all  to  cut  and  hacke  them  with  their  trenchant 
teeth ; — ."  See  note  on  Macbeth,  Vol.  X.  p.  289. 

STEKVENS. 

7  That  through  the  windffvo-bars  bore  at  men's  eyes,~]  The 
virgin  that  shows  her  bosom  through  the  lattice  of  her  chamber. 

JOHNSON. 

Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  is  almost  confirmed  by  the  following 
passage  in  Cymbelins; 

" or  let  her  beauty 

"  Look  through  a  casement  to  allure  false  hearts, 
"  And  be  false  with  them." 

Shakspeare  at  the  same  time  might  aim  a  stroke  at  this  indecency 
in  the  wantons  of  his  own  time,  which  is  also  animadverted  on 
by  several  contemporary  dramatists.     So,  in  the  ancient  interlude 
of  The  Repentance  of  Marie  Magdalene,  1567: 
"  Your  garment  must  be  worne  alway, 

That  your  "white  pappes  may  be  scene  if  you  may. — 
If  young  gentlemen  may  see  your  white  skin, 
It  will  allure  them  to  love,  and  soon  bring  them  in. 
Both  damsels  and  wives  use  many  such  feates. 
I  know  them  that  will  lay  out  their  faire  teates" 
All  this  is  addressed  to  Mary  Magdalen. 
To  the  same  purpose,  Jovius  Pontanus  : 
"  Nam  quid  lacteolos  sinus,  et  ipsas 
"  Prae  te  fers  sine  linteo  papillas  ? 
"  Hoc  est  dicere,  posce,  posce,  trado, 
"  Hoc  est  ad  Venerem  vocare  amantes."     STEEVENS. 

Our  author  has  again  the  same  kind  of  imagery  in  his  Lover's 
Complaint : 

" spite  of  heaven's  fell  rage, 

"  Some  beauty  peep'd  through  lattice  of  sear'd  age." 

I  do  not  believe  any  particular  satire  was  here  intended.  Lady 
Suffolk,  Lady  Somerset,  and  many  of  the  celebrated  beauties  of 
the  time  of  James  I.  are  thus  represented  in  their  pictures ;  nor 
were  they,  I  imagine,  thought  more  reprehensible  than  the  ladies 
of  the  present  day,  who  from  the  same  extravagant  pursuit  of 
what  is  called  fashion,  run  into  an  opposite  extreme.  MALONF. 


&7.  IIL          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  147 

Are  not  within  the  leaf  of  pity  writ, 

Set  them  down8  horrible  traitors :  Spare  not  the 

babe, 
Whose  dimpled  smiles  from  fools  exhaust  their 

mercy;9 

Think  it  a  bastard,1  whom  the  oracle 
Hath  doubtfully  pronounced  thy  throat2  shall  cut, 


I  have  not  hitherto  met  with  any  ancient  portrait  of  a  modest 
English  woman,  in  which  the  papilla  exertce  were  exhibited  as 
described  on  the  present  occasion  by  Shakspeare ;  for  he  alludes 
not  only  to  what  he  has  called  in  his  celebrated  Song,  "  the  hills 
of  snow,"  but  to  the  "  pinks  that  grow"  upon  their  summits. 
See  Vol.  VI.  p.  337,  n.  7.  STEEVENS. 

I  believe  we  should  read  nearly  thus : 

nor  those  milk-paps, 

That  through  the  widow's  barb  bore  at  men's  eyes. 

Are  not  "within  the  leaf  of  pity  "writ. 

The  use  of  the  doubled  negative  is  so  common  in  Shakspeare 
that  it  is  unnecessary  to  support  it  by  instances.  The  barbe,  I 
believe,  was  a  kind  of  veil.  Cressida,  in  Chaucer,  who  appears 
as  a  ividow,  is  described  as  wearing  a  barbe.  Troilus  and  Cressida, 
Book  II.  v.  110,  in  which  place  Caxton's  edition  (as  I  learn 
from  the  Glossary)  reads — 'wimple,  which  certainly  signifies  a 
veil,  and  was  probably  substituted  as  a  synonymous  word  for 
barbe,  the  more  antiquated  reading  of  the  manuscripts.  Un- 
barbed  is  used  by  Shakspeare  for  uncovered,  in  Coriolanus, 
Act  III.  sc.  v : 

"  Must  I  go  show  them  my  unbarbed  sconce  ?" 
See  also  Leland's  Collectanea,  Vol.  V.  p.  317,  new  edit,  where 
the  ladies,  mourning  at  the  funeral  of  Queen  Mary,  are  men- 
tioned as  having  their  barbes  above  their  chinnes.     TYRWHITT. 

8  Set  them  down — ]  Old  copy,  in  defiance  of  metre — 
But  set  them  down.     STEEVENS. 

9 exhaust  their  mercy ;]    For  exhaust,  Sir  Thomas  Han- 

mer,  and  after  him  Dr.  Warburton,  read — extort;  but  exhaust 
here  signifies  literally  to  draw  forth.  JOHNSON. 

1 bastard,'}  An  allusion  to  the  tale  of  CEdipus. 

JOHNSON. 

* thy  throat — ]    Old  copy — the  throat.     Corrected  by 

Mr.  Pope.     MALONK. 

L  2 


148  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  iv. 

And  mince  it  sans  remorse :  Swear  against  objects ; 3 
Put  armour  on  thine  ears,  and  on  thine  eyes ; 
Whose  proof  nor  yells  of  mothers,    maids,   nor 

babes, 

Nor  sight  of  priests  in  holy  vestments  bleeding, 
Shall  pierce  a  jot.    There's  gold  to  pay  thy  soldiers: 
Make  large  confusion ;  and,  thy  fury  spent, 
Confounded  be  thyself!  Speak  not,  be  gone. 

ALOIS.  Hast  thou  gold  yet  ?  I'll  take  the  gold 

thou  giv'st  me, 
Not  all  thy  counsel. 

TIM.    Dost  thou,  or  dost  thou  not,  heaven's 
curse  upon  thee ! 

PHR.  <§-  TIMAN.  Give  us  some  gold,  good  Ti- 
mon  :  Hast  thou  more  ? 

TIM.  Enough  to  make  a  whore  forswear  her 

trade, 

And  to  make  whores,  a  bawd.4   Hold  up,  you  sluts, 
Your  aprons  mountant :  You  are  not  oathable,— 
Although,  I  know,  you'll  swear,  terribly  swear, 
Into  strong  shudders,  and  to  heavenly  agues, 


3  Swear  against  objects;"]   Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads: 

'gainst  all  objects. 

So,  in  our  author's  152d  Sonnet: 

"  Or  made  them  sivear  against  the  thing  they  see" 

STEEVENS. 

Perhaps  objects  is  here  used  provincial^  for  aljects. 

FARMER. 

Against  objects  is,  against  objects  of  charity  and  compassion. 
So,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  Ulysses  says : 

"  For  Hector,  in  his  blaze  of  wrath,  subscribes 
"  To  tender  objects."     M.  MASON. 

4  And  to  make  whores,  a  ba'wd.']     That  is,  enough  to  make  a 
whore  leave  whoring,  and  a  bawd  leave  making  whores. 

JOHNSOX. 


sc.  m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  149 

The  immortal  gods  that  hear  you,5*— spare  your 

oaths, 

I'll  trust  to  your  conditions  :6  Be  whores  still ; 
And  he  whose  pious  breath  seeks  to  convert  you, 
Be  strong  in  whore,  allure  him,  burn  him  up  ; 
Let  your  close  fire  predominate  his  smoke, 
And  be  no  turncoats:7  Yet  may  your  pains,  six 

months, 
Be  quite  contrary : 8  And  thatch  your  poor  thin 

roofs9 


*  The  immortal  gods  that  hear  you,"]  The  same  thought  is 
found  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act  I.  sc.  iii : 

"  Though  you  with  swearing  shake  the  throned  gods." 
Again,  in  The  Winter's  Tale: 

11  Though  you  would  seek  to  unsphere  the  stars  with 
oaths."     STEEVENS. 

6  Pll  trust  to  your  conditions :]      You  need  not  swear  to  con- 
tinue whores,  I  will  trust  to  your  inclinations.     JOHNSON. 

See  Vol.  XII.  p.  521,  n.  7.     MALONE. 

Timon,  I  believe,  does  not  mean  their  dispositions  but  their 
vocations,  and  accordingly  conjures  them  to  be  whores  still. 

M.  MASON. 

7  And  be  no  turncoats:']     By  an  old  statute,  those  women 
who  lived  in  a  state  of  prostitution,  were,  among  other  articles 
concerning  their  dress,  enjoined  to  wear  their  garments,  with 
the  wrong-side  outward,  on  pain  of  forfeiting  them.     Perhaps 
there  is  in  this  passage  a  reference  to  it.     HENLEY. 

I  do  not  perceive  how  this  explanation  of — turncoat,  will  ac- 
cord with  Timon's  train  of  reasoning;  yet  the  antiquary  may 
perhaps  derive  satisfaction  from  that  which  affords  no  assistance 
to  the  commentator.  STEEVENS. 

8  Yet  may  your  pains,  six  months, 

Be  quite  contrary  :~\  This  is  obscure,  partly  from  the  am- 
biguity of  the  word  pains,  and  partly  from  the  generality  of  the 
expression.  The  meaning  is  this:  he  had  said  before,  follow 
constantly  your  trade  of  debauchery  :  that  is  (says  he)  for  six 
months  in  the  ye;;r.  Let  the  other  six  be  employed  in  quite  con- 
trary pains  and  labour,  namely,  in  the  severe  discipline  necessary 
for  the  repair  of  those  disorders  that  your  debaucheries  occasion, 
in  order  to  lit  vou  anew  to  the  trade;  and  thus  let  the  whole 


150  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  ir. 

With  burdens  of  the  dead ; — some  thatwere  hang'd, 
No  matter : — wear  them,  betray  with  them  :  whore 
still ; 

year  be  spent  in  these  different  occupations.  On  this  account 
he  goes  on,  and  says,  Make  false  hair,  &c.  WARBURTON. 

The  explanation  is  ingenious,  but  I  think  it  very  remote,  and 
would  willingly  bring  the  author  and  his  readers  to  meet  on  ea- 
sier terms.  We  may  read : 

Yet  may  your  pains  six  months 

Be  quite  contraried  : — . 

Timon  is  wishing  ill  to  mankind,  but  is  afraid  lest  the  whores 
should  imagine  that  he  wishes  well  to  them ;  to  obviate  which 
he  lets  them  know,  that  he  imprecates  upon  them  influence 
enough  to  plague  others,  and  disappointments  enough  to  plague 
themselves.  He  wishes  that  they  may  do  all  possible  mischief, 
and  yet  take  pains  six  months  of  the  year  in  vain. 

In  this  sense  there  is  a  connection  of  this  line  with  the  next. 
Finding  your  pains  contraried,  try  new  expedients,  thatch  your 
thin  roofs,  and  paint. 

To  contrary  is  an  old  verb.  Latimer  relates,  that  when  he 
went  to  court,  he  was  advised  not  to  contrary  the  King. 

JOHNSON. 

If  Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  be  right,  which  I  do  not  believe, 
the  present  words  appear  to  me  to  admit  it,  as  well  as  the  read- 
ing he  would  introduce.  Such  unnecessary  deviations  from  the 
text  should  ever  be  avoided.  Dr.  Warburton's  is  a  very  natural 
interpretation,  which  cannot  often  be  said  of  the  expositions  of 
that  commentator.  The  words  that  follow  fully  support  it : 
"  And  thatch  your  poor  thin  roofs,"  £c.  i.  e.  after  you  have  lost 
the  greatest  part  of  your  hair  by  disease,  and  the  medicines  that 
for  six  months  you  have  been  obliged  to  take,  then  procure  an 
artificial  covering,  &c.  MALONE. 

I  believe  this  means, — Yet  for  half  the  year  at  least,  may  you 
suffer  such  punishment  as  is  inflicted  on  harlots  in  houses  of  cor- 
rection. STEEVENS. 

These  words  should  be  inclosed  in  a  parenthesis.  Johnson 
wishes  to  connect  them  with  the  following  sentences,  but  that 
cannot  be,  as  they  contain  an  imprecation,  and  the  following 
lines  contain  an  instruction.  Timon  is  giving  instructions  to 
those  women  ;  but,  in  the  middle  of  his  instructions,  his  misan- 
thropy breaks  forth  in  an  imprecation  against  them.  I  have  no 
objection  to  the  reading  of  contraried,  instead  of  contrary,  but 
it  does  not  seem  to  be  necessary.  M.  MASON. 


sc.  m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  151 

Paint  till  a  horse  may  mire  upon  your  face  : 
A  pox  of  wrinkles ! 

PHR.   Sf    TIMAN.    Well,    more    gold; — What 

then  ?— 
Believ't,  that  we'll  do  any  thing  for  gold. 

TIM.  Consumptions  sow 

In  hollow  bones  of  man  ;  strike  their  sharp  shins, 
And  mar  men's  spurring.1  Crack  the  lawyer's  voice, 

9 thatch  your  poor  thin  roofs   &c.~]      About   the   year 

1595,  when  the  fashion  became  general  in  England  of  wearing 
a  greater  quantity  of  hair  than  was  ever  the  produce  of  a  single 
head,  it  was  dangerous  for  any  child  to  wander,  as  nothing  was 
more  common  than  for  women  to  entice  such  as  had  fine  locks 
into  private  places,  and  there  to  cut  them  off.  I  have  this  infor- 
mation from  Stubbes's  Anatomic  of  Abuses,  which  I  have  often 
quoted  on  the  article  of  dress.  To  this  fashion  the  writers  of 
Shakspeare's  age  do  not  appear  to  have  been  reconciled.  So, 
in  A  Mad  World  my  Masters,  1608:  "  — to  wear  perriwigs 
made  of  another's  hair,  is  not  this  against  kind  ?" 
Again,  in  Drayton's  Mooncalf: 

And  with  large  sums  they  stick  not  to  procure 
Hair  from  the  dead,  yea,  and  the  most  unclean; 
To  help  their  pride  they  nothing  will  disdain." 


Again, 


n  Shakspeare's  68th  Sonnet : 


Before  the  golden  tressts  of  the  dead, 
The  right  of  sepulchres,  were  shorn  away, 
To  live  a  second  life  on  second  head, 
Ere  beauty's  dead  fleece  made  another  gay." 
Again,  in  Churchyard's  Tragicall  Diacoiirsof  a  dolorous  Gen- 
tlewoman, 1593 : 

"  The  pcrwickes  fine  must  curie  wher  haire  doth  lack 
"  The  swelling  grace  that  fils  the  empty  sacke." 
Warner,  in  his  Albion's  England,   160'f,  .Book  IX.  ch.  xlvii. 
is  likewise  very  severe  on  this  fashion.     Stowe  informs  us,  that 
*'  women's  periwigs  were  first  brought  into  England  about  the 
time  of  the  massacre  of  Paris."     STKEVENS. 

See  also  Vol.  VII.  p.  314,  n.  6. 

The  Jirst  edition  of  Stubbes's  Anatomy  of  Abuses  quoted 
above,  was  in  1583.  Drayton's  Mooncalf  did  not,  I  Relieve, 
appear  till  16^7.  MALONE. 

1 men's  spurring.]      Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads — spar- 


152  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  ir. 

That  he  may  never  more  false  title  plead, 
Nor  sound  his  quillets  shrilly:2  hoar  the  flamen,* 
That  scolds  against  the  quality  of  flesh, 
And  not  believes  himself:  down  with  the  nose, 
Down  with  it  flat ;  take  the  bridge  quite  away 
Of  him,  that  his  particular  to  foresee,* 
Smells  from  the  general  weal :  make  curl'd-pate 
ruffians  bald ; 

ring,  properly  enough,  if  there  be  any  ancient  example  of  the 
word.  JOHNSON. 

Spurring  is  certainly  right.  The  disease  that  enfeebled  their 
shins  would  have  this  effect.  STEEVENS. 

*  Nor  sound  his  quillets  shrilly  :~\  Quillets  are  subtilties.  So, 
in  Laiu  Tricks,  &c.  1608  :  "  — a  quillet  well  applied !" 

STEEVENS. 

Cole,   in  his  Latin   Dictionary,    1679,  renders   quillet,   res 
jfrivola  recula.     MALONE. 

3 hoar  the  jlariien,~]     Mr.    Upton  would  read — hoarse, 

i.  e.  make  hoarse ;  for  to  be  hoary  claims  reverence.  "  Add  to 
this  (says  he)  that  hoarse  is  here  most  proper,  as  opposed  to 
scolds.  It  may,  however,  mean, — Give  the  flamen  the  hoary 
leprosy"  So,  in  Webster's  Dutchess  o/Malfy,  1623  : 

" shew  like  leprosy, 

"  The  whiter  the  fouler." 
And  before,  in  this  play  : 

"  Make  the  hoar  leprosy  ador'd."     STEEVENS. 

4 that  his  particular  to  foresee,]  The  metaphor  is  ap- 
parently incongruous,  but  the  sense  is  good.  To  foresee  his 
particular,  is  to  provide  for  his  private  advantage,  for  which  he 
leaves  the  right  scent  of  publicfc  good.  In  hunting,  when  hares 
have  cross'd  one  another,  it  is  common  for  some  of  the  hounds 
to  smell  from  the  general  ueal,  and  foresee  their  own  particular. 
Shakspeare,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  skilful  sportsman,  and 
has  alluded  often  to  falconry,  perhaps,  alludes  here  to  hunting. 
[Dr.  \Varburton  would  read — fore/end,  i.  e.  (as  he  interprets 
the  word)  provide  for,  secure.] 

To  the  commentator's  emendation  it  may  be  objected,  that 
he  uses  forefend  in  the  wrong  meaning.  To  fore  fend  is,  I  think, 
never  to  provide  for,  but  to  provide  against.  The  verbs  com- 
pounded with  for  or  fore  have  commonly  either  an  evil  or  nega- 
tive sense.  JOHNSON. 


sc.  in.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  153 

And  let  the  unscarr'd  braggarts  of  the  war 
Derive  some  pain  from  you  :  Plague  all ; 
That  your  activity  may  defeat  and  quell 
The  source  of  all  erection. — There's  more  gold:— 
Do  you  damn  others,  and  let  this  damn  you, 
And  ditches  grave  you  all!5 

PHR.$TIMAN.  More  counsel  with  more  money, 
bounteous  Timon. 

TIM.  More  whore,  more  mischief  first ;  I  have 
given  you  earnest. 

ALCIB.  Strike   up   the  drum  towards  Athens. 

Farewell,  Timon  ; 
If  I  thrive  well,  I'll  visit  thee  again. 

TIM.  If  I  hope  well,  I'll  never  see  thee  more. 

ALCIB.  I  never  did  thee  harm. 

TIM.  Yes,  thou  spok'st  well  of  me.6 

ALCIB.  Call'st  thou  that  harm  r 

TlM.  Men  daily  find  it  such.7     Get  thee  away, 

*  And  ditches  grave  you  all!']  To  grave  is  to  entomb.  The 
word  is  now  obsolete,  though  sometimes  used  by  Shakspeare  and 
his  contemporary  authors.  So,  in  Lord  Surrey's  translation  of 
the  fourth  Book  of  Virgil's  JEneid  : 

"  Cinders  (think'st  thou)  mind  this?  or  graved  ghostes?" 
Again,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  fifteenth  Iliad  : 

" the  throtes  of  dogs  shall  grave 

"  His  manlesse  lims.5' 

To  ungrave  was  likewise  to  turn  out  of  a  grave.     Thus,  in  Mar- 
ston's  Sophonisba : 

" and  me,  now  dead, 

"  Deny  a  grave  ;  hurl  us  among  the  rocks 

"  To  stanch  beasts  hunger :  therefore,  thus  ungrav'd, 

"  I  seek  slow  rest." 
See  Vol.  XL  p.  96,  n.  7.     STEEVENS. 

6  Yes,  thou  spok'st  well  ofme.^  Shakspeare  in  this  as  in  many 
other  places,  appears  to  allude  to  the  sacred  writings :  "  Woe 
unto  him  of  whom  all  men  speak  well!"  M ALONE. 

7 Jind  it  such.]  For  the  insertion  of  the  pronoun^— such, 


154  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  ir. 

And  take  thy  beagles  with  thee. 

ALCIB.  We  but  offend  him. — 

Strike. 

'[Drum  beats.     Exeunt  ALCIBIADES,  PHRYNIA, 
and  TIMANDRA. 

TIM.  That  nature,  being  sick  of  man's  unkind- 
ness,) 
Should  yet  be  hungry ! — Common  mother,  thou, 

[Digging. 

Whose  womb  unmeasurable,  and  infinite  breast,8 
Teems,  and  feeds  all ;  whose  self-same  mettle, 
Whereof  thy  proud  child,  arrogant  man,  is  puff'd, 
Engenders  the  black  toad,  and  adder  blue, 
The  gilded  newt,  and  eyeless  venom  d  worm,9 
With  all  the  abhorred  births  below  crisp  heaven1 

I  am  answerable.     It  is  too  frequently  used  on  similar  occasions 
by  our  author,  to  need  exemplification.     STEEVENS. 

8  Whose  womb  unmeasurable,  and  infinite  breast, ~]  This  image 
is  taken  from  the  ancient  statues  of  Diana  Ephesia  Multimam- 
mia,  called  Trava/oXoj  $i><ri;  TTCLVTU;-;  prjnjp  ;  and  is  a  very  good 
comment  on  those  extraordinary  figures.  See  Monttaugon, 
VAntiquite  expliquee,  Lib.  III.  ch.  xv.  Hesiod,  alluding  to  the 
same  representations,  calls  the  earth,  TAI'  ETPTXTKPNOS. 

WARBURTON. 

Whose  infinite  breast  means  no  more  than  whose  boundless  sur- 
Jace.     Shakspeare    probably    knew    nothing   of  the   statue   to 
which  the  commentator  alludes.     STEEVENS. 

9 eyeless  venom' d  worm,~\     The  serpent,  which  we,  from 

the  smallness  of  his  eyes,  call  the  blind-worm,  and  the  Latins, 
ccccilia.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Macbeth  : 

"  Adder's  fork,  and  blindworms  sting."     STEEVEXS. 

1  •  below  crisp  heaven — ]  We  should  read — cript,  i.  e. 
vaulted,  from  the  Latin  crypta,  a  vault.  WARBURTON. 

Mr.  Upton  declares  for  crisp,  curled,  bent,  hollow. 

JOHNSON. 

Perhaps  Shakspeare  means  curVd,  from  the  appearance  of  the 
clouds.  In  The  Tempest,  Ariel  talks  of  riding — 


so.  in.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  155 

Whereon  Hyperion's  quickening  fire  doth  shine ; 
Yield  him,  who  all  thy  human  sons  doth  hate,2 
From  forth  thy  plenteous  bosom,  one  poor  root ! 
Ensear  thy  fertile  and  conceptious  womb,3 
Let  it  no  more  bring  out  ingrateful  man  !4 
Go  great  with  tigers,  dragons,  wolves,  and  bears; 
Teem  with  new  monsters,  whom  thy  upward  face 
Hath  to  the  marbled  mansion5  all  above 
Never  presented ! — O,  a  root, — Dear  thanks ! 
Dry  up  thy  marrows,  vines,  and  plough-torn  leas;6 

"  On  the  curl'd  clouds." 
Chaucer,  in  his  House  of  Fame,  says — 

"  Her  here  that  was  oundie  and  crips.1' 
i.  e.  wavy  and  curled. 

Again,  in  The  Philosopher's  Satires,  by  Robert  Anton : 
"  Her  face  as  beauteous  as  the  crisped  morn." 

STEEVENS. 

"" who  all  thy  human  sons  doth  hate,~]     Old  copy — the 

human  sons  do  hate.     The  former  word  was  corrected  by  Mr, 
Pope  ;  the  latter  by  Mr.  Rowe.     MALONE. 

3  Ensear  thy  fertile  and  conceptious  womb,"]    So,  in  K.  Lear: 

"  Dry  up  in  her  the  organs  of  encrease."     STEEVENS. 

4  Let  it  no  more  bring  out  ingrateful  man!~\     It  is  plain  that 
bring  out  is  bring  forth.     JOHNSON. 

Neither  Dr.  Warburton  nor  Dr.  Johnson  seem  to  have  been 
aware  of  the  import  of  this  passage.  It  was  the  great  boast  of 
the  Athenians  that  they  were  aoro^ovec,  sprung  from  the  soil 
on  which  they  lived;  and  it  is  in  allusion  to  this,  that  the  terms 
common  mother,  and  bring  out,  are  applied  to  the  ground. 

HENLEY. 

Though  Mr.  Henley,  as  a  scholar,  could  not  be  unacquainted 
with  this  Athenian  boast,  I  fear  that  Shakspeare  knew  no  more 
of  it  than  of  the  many -breasted  Diana  of  Ephesus,  brought  for- 
ward by  Dr.  Warburton  in  a  preceding  note.  STEEVENS. 

5 the  marbled  mansion — ]      So,  Milton,  B.  III.  1.  564? : 

"  Through  the  pure  marble  air ." 

Virgil  bestows  the  same  epithet  on  the  sea.     STEEVENS. 
Again,  in  Othello: 

"  Now  by  yon  marble  heaven, ."     MALONE. 

6  Dry  up  thy  marrows,  vines,  and  plow-torn  leas  ;]   The  sense 


156  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  ir. 

Whereof  ingrateful  man,  with  liquorish  draughts, 
And  morsels  unctuous,  greases  his  pure  mind, 
That  from  it  all  consideration  slips ! 

Enter  APEMANTUS. 

More  man?  Plague!  plague! 

APEM.  I  was  directed  hither  :  Men  report, 
Thou  dost  affect  my  manners,  and  dost  use  them. 

TIM.    'Tis  then,   because  thou  dost  not  keep 

a  dog 
Whom  I  would  imitate :  Consumption  catch  thee ! 

APEM.  This  is  in  thee  .a  nature  but  affected  j 
A  poor  unmanly  melancholy,  sprung 
From  change  of  fortune.7     Why  this  spade  ?  this 

place  ? 

This  slave-like  habit  ?  and  these  looks  of  care  ? 
Thy  flatterers  yet  Wear  silk,  drink  wine,  lie  soft  j 
Hug  their  diseased  perfumes,8  and  have  forgot 
That  ever  Timon  was.     Shame  not  these  woods, 


is  this:  0  nature!  cease  to  produce  men,  enscar  thy  'womb  ;  but  if 
thouvviltcontinue  to  produce  them,  at  least  cease  to  pamper  them  ; 
dry  up  thy  marrows,  on  which  they  fatten  with  unctuous  morsels, 
thy  vines,  which  give  them  liquorish  draughts,  and  t\\y  plow-torn 
leas.     Here   are  effects  corresponding   with   causes,   liquorish 
draughts,  with  vines,  and  unctuous  morsels  with  marroivs,  and 
the  old  reading  literally  preserved.     JOHNSON. 
7  This  is  in  thee  a  nature  but  affected ; 
A  poor  unmanly  melancholy  sprung 

From  change  of  fortune.]     The  old  copy  reads  infected,  and 
change  of  future.]     Mr.  Rowe  made  the  emendation. 

MALONE. 

*  Hug  their  diseased  perfumes,]     i.  e.  their  diseas'd  perfumed 
mistresses.     MALONE. 

So,  in  Othello : 

"  'Tis  such  another  fitchew;  marry,  a perfumd  one." 

STEEVENS. 


sc.  in.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  157 

By  putting  on  the  cunning  of  a  carper.9 
Be  thou  a  flatterer  now,  and  seek  to  thrive 
By  that  which  has  undone  thee  :  hinge  thy  knee,1 
And  let  his  very  breath,  whom  thou'lt  observe, 
Blow  off  thy  cap;  praise  his  most  vicious  strain, 
And  call  it  excellent :  Thou  wast  told  thus  ; 
Thou  gav'st  thine  ears,  like  tapsters,  that  bid  wel- 
come,2 

To  knaves,  and  all  approachers :  'Tis  most  just, 
That  thou  turn  rascal;  had'st  thou  wealth  again, 
Rascals  should  have't.  Do  not  assume  my  likeness. 
TIM.  Were  I  like  thee,  I'd  throw  away  myself. 

APEM.  Thou  hast  cast  away  thyself,  being  like 
thyself; 


9 the   cunning  of  a  carper.]     For  the  philosophy  of  a 

Cynick,  of  which  sect  Apemantus  was ;  and  therefore  he  con- 
eludes  : 

" Do  not  assume  my  likeness."     WARBURTON. 

Cunning  here  seems  to  signify  counterfeit  appearance. 

JOHNSON. 

The  cunning  of  a  carper,  is  the  insidious  art  of  a  critick. 
Shame  not  these  woods,  says  Apemantus,  by  coming  here  to  find 
fault.  Maurice  Kyjjln  in  the  preface  to  his  translation  of 
Terence's  Andria,  1588,  says:  "  Of  the  curious  carper  1  look 
not  to  be  favoured."  Again,  Ursula  speaking  of  the  sarcasms  of 
Beatrice,  observes — 

"  Why  sure,  such  carping  is  not  commendable." 
There  is  no  apparent  reason  why  Apemantus  (according  to  Dr. 
Warburton's  explanation)  should  ridicule  his  own  sect. 

STEEVENS. 

'  hinge  thy  knee,']     Thus,  in  Hamlet  : 

"  To  crook  the  pregnant  hinges  of  the  knee." 

STEEVENS. 

z like  tapsters,  that  bid  'welcome,']     So,  in  our  author's 

Venus  and  Adonis : 

"  Like  shrill-tongu'd  tapsters  answering  every  call, 
"  Soothing  the  humour  of  fantastick  wits." 
The  old  copy  has — bad  welcome.     Corrected  in  the  second 
folio.     MALONE. 


15S  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  m 

A  madman  so  long,  now  a  fool :  What,  think'st 
That  the  bleak  air,  thy  boisterous  chamberlain, 
Will  put  thy  shirt  on  warm  ?  Will  these  moss'd 

trees,3 

That  have  outliv'd  the  eagle,4  page  thy  heels, 
And  skip  when  thou  point'st  out  ?  Will  the  cold 

brook, 

Candied  with  ice,  caudle  thy  morning  taste, 
To  cure  thy  o'er-night's   surfeit?  call  the  crea- 
tures,— 

Whose  naked  natures  live  in  all  the  spite 
Of  wreakful  heaven ;  whose  bare  unhoused  trunks, 
To  the  conflicting  elements  expos'd, 
Answer  mere  nature,5 — bid  them  flatter  thee  ; 


3 moss'd  trees,"]      [Old  copy — moist  trees,]   Sir  Thomas 

Hanmer  reads  very  elegantly  : 

.  moss'd  trees.     JOHNSON. 

Shakspeare  vises  the  same  epithet  in  As  you  like  it,  Act  IV: 
"  Under  an  oak,  whose  boughs  were  moss'd  with  age." 

STEEVENS. 

So  also  Drayton,  in  his  Mortimer iados,  no  date : 
"  Even  as  a  bustling  tempest  rousing  blasts 
*'  Upon  a  forest  of  old  branching  oakes, 
"  And  with  his  furie  teyrs  their  mossy  loaks." 
Moss'd  is,  I  believe,  the  true  reading.     MALOXE. 

I  have  inserted  this  reading  in  the  text,  because  there  is  less 
propriety  in  the  epithet — moist ;  it  being  a  known  truth  that 
trees  become  more  and  more  dry,  as  they  encrease  in  age.  Thus, 
our  author,  in  his  Rape  of  Lucrece,  observes,  that  it  is  one  of  the 
properties  of  time — 

"  To  dry  the  old  oak's  sap ."     STEEVENS. 

4 outliv'd  the  eagle,"]    Aquilcc  Senectus  is  a  proverb.     I 

learn  from  Turberville's  Book  of  Falconry,  1575,  that  the  great 
age  of  this  bird  has  been  ascertained  from  the  circumstance  of 
its  always  building  its  eyrie,  or  nest,  in  the  same  place. 

STEEVENS. 

5  Ansiver  mere  nature,]      So,  in  King  Lear,  Act  II.  sc.  iii : 
"  And  with  presented  nakedness  outface 
"  The  winds,"  &c.     STEEVENS. 


ac.  in.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  159 

O!  thou  shalt  find 

TIM.  A  fool  of  thee :  Depart. 

APEM.  I  love  thee  better  now  than  e'er  I  did. 

TIM.  I  hate  thee  worse. 

APEM.  Why? 

TIM.  Thou  flatter'st  misery. 

APEM.  I  flatter  not ;  but  say,  thou  art  a  caitiff. 

TIM.  Why  dost  thou  seek  me  out  ? 

APEM.  To  vex  thee.6 

TIM.  Always  a  villain's  office,  or  a  fool's. 
Dost  please  thyself  in't  ? 

APEM.  Ay. 

TIM.  What !  a  knave  too  ?f 

APEM.  If  thou  didst  put  this  sour-cold  habit  on 
To  castigate  thy  pride,  'twere  well :  but  thou 
Dost  it  enforcedly;  thou'dst  courtier  be  again, 
Wert  thou  not  beggar.     Willing  misery 
Outlives  incertain  pomp,  is  crown'd  before:8 

6  To  vex  ihee.~\     As  the  measure  is  here  imperfect,  we  may 
suppose,  with  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer,  our  author  to  have  written : 

Only  to  vex  thee.     STEEVENS. 

7  What !  a  knave  too  ?~]     Timon  had  just  called  Apemantus 
fool,  in  consequence  of  what  he  had  known  of  him  by  former  ac- 
quaintance; but  when  Apemantus  tells  him  that  he  comes  to 
vex  him,  Timon  determines  that  to  vex  is  either  the  office  of  a  vil- 
lain or  a  fool;  that  to  vex  by  design  is  villainy,  to  vex  without  de- 
sign is  Jolly.     He  then  properly  asks  Apemantus  whether  he 
takes  delight  in  vexing,  and  when  he  answers,  yes,  Timon  re- 
plies,—  What!  a  knave  too?  I  before  only  knew  thee  to  be  a.Jbol, 
but  now  I  find  thee  likewise  a  knave.     JOHNSON. 

8 is  crown 'd  before ;]     Arrives  sooner  at  high  tuishj  that 

is,  at  the  completion  of  its  "wishes.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  a  former  scene  of  this  play : 

"  And  in  some  sort  these  wants  of  mine  are 
"  That  I  account  them  blessings." 


160  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  iv. 

The  one  is  filling  still,  never  complete  ; 

The  other,  at  high  wish:  Best  state,  contentless, 

Hath  a  distracted  and  most  wretched  being, 

Worse  than  the  worst,  content.9 

Thou  should' st  desire  to  die,  being  miserable. 

TIM.  Not  by  his  breath,1  that  is  more  miserable. 
Thou  art  a  slave,  whom  Fortune's  tender  arm 
With  favour  never  clasp'd;2  but  bred  a  dog.3 

Again,  more  appositely,  in  Cymbeline: 

" my  supreme  crown  of  grief."     MALONE. 

9  Worse  than  the  worst,  content.']  Best  states  contentless  have 
a  wretched  being,  a  being  worse  than  that  of  the  worst  states 
that  are  content.  JOHNSON. 

1 by  his  breath,^     It  means,  I  believe,  by  his  counsel,  by 

his  direction.     JOHNSON. 

By  his  breath,  I  believe,  is  meant  his  sentence.  To  breathe  is 
as  licentiously  used  by  Shakspeare  in  the  following  instance  from 
Hamlet: 

"  Having  ever  seen,  in  the  prenominate  crimes, 

"  The  youth  you  breathe  of,  guilty,"  &c.     STEEVENS. 

By  his  breath  means  in  our  author's  language,  by  his  voice  or 
speech,  and  so  in  fact  by  his  sentence.  Shakspeare  frequently 
uses  the  word  in  this  sense.  It  has  been  twice  used  in  this  play. 
See  p.  108,  n.  4.  MALONE. 

8  Thou  art  a  slave,  whom  Fortune's  tender  arm 

With  favour  never  clasp'd ;~]     In  a  Collection  of  Sonnets, 
entitled,   Chloris,  or  the   Complaint  of  the  passionate  despised 
Shepheard,  by  William  Smith,  1596,  a  similar  image  is  found: 
"  Doth  any  live  that  ever  had  such  hap, 

"  That  all  her  actions  are  of  none  effect? 
"  Whom  Fortune  never  dandled  in  her  lap, 

"  But  as  an  abject  still  doth  me  reject."     MALONE. 

3 but  bred  a  dog.]      Alluding  to  the  word   Cynick,   of 

which  sect  Apemantus  was.     WARBURTON. 

For  the  etymology  of  Cynick,  our  author  was  not  obliged  to 
have  recourse  to  the  Greek  language.  The  dictionaries  of  his 
time  furnished  him  with  it.  See  Cawdrey's  Dictionary  of  hard 
English  Words,  octavo,  1604-:  "  CYNICAL,  Doggish,  froward." 
Again,  in  Bullokar's  English  Expositor,  1616:  "  CYNICAL, 
Doggish,  or  currish.  There  was  in  Greece  an  old  sect  of  philo- 


sc.m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  161 

Hadst  thou,  like  us,4  from  our  first  swath,5  pro- 
ceeded 


sophers  so  called,  because  they  did  ever  sharply  barke  at  men's 
vices,"  &c.  After  all,  however,  I  believe  Shakspeare  only 
meant,  thou  wert  born  in  a  low  state,  and  used  from  thy  infancy 
to  hardships.  MALONE. 

4  Hadst  thou,  like  MS,]  There  is  in  this  speech  a  sullen  haugh- 
tiness, and  malignant  dignity,  suitable  at  once  to  the  lord  and 
the  man-hater.  The  impatience  with  which  he  bears  to  have  his 
luxury  reproached  by  one  that  never  had  luxury  within  his  reach, 
is  natural  and  graceful. 

There  is  in  a  letter,  written  by  the  Earl  of  Essex,  just  before 
his  execution,  to  another  nobleman,  a  passage  somewhat  resem- 
bling this,  with  which,  I  believe,  every  reader  will  be  pleased, 
though  it  is  so  serious  and  solemn  that  it  can  scarcely  be  inserted 
without  irreverence : 

"  God  grant  your  lordship  may  quickly  feel  the  comfort  I  now 
enjoy  in  my  unfeigned  conversion,  but  that  you  may  never  feel 
the  torments  I  have  suffered  for  my  long  delaying  it.  I  had  none 
but  deceivers  to  call  upon  me,  to  "whom  I  said,  if  my  ambition 
could  have  entered  into  their  narrow  breasts,  they  would  not  have 
been  so  humble  ;  or  if  my  delights  had  been  once  tasted  by  them, 
they  "would  not  have,  been  so  precise.  But  your  lordship  hath  one 
to  call  upon  you,  that  fcnoiveth  "what  it  is  you  now  enjoy  ;  and  tvhat 
the  greatest  fruit  and  end  is  of  all  contentment  that  this  "world 
can  afford.  Think,  therefore,  dear  earl,  that  I  have  staked 
and  buoyed  all  the  ways  of  pleasure  unto  you,  and  left  them 
as  sea-marks  for  you  to  keep  the  channel  of  religious  virtue. 
For  shut  your  eyes  never  so  long,  they  must  be  open  at  the  last, 
and  then  you  must  say  with  me,  there  is  no  peace  to  the  ungodly" 

JOHNSON. 

A  similar  thought  occurs  in  a  MS.  metrical  translation  of  an 
ancient  French  romance,  preserved  in  the  Library  of  King's 
College,  Cambridge.  [See  note  on  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
Act  IV.  sc.  x.]  : 

"  For  heretofore  of  hardnesse  hadest  thou  never; 
"  But  were  brought  forth  in  blisse,  as  svvich  a  burde  ought, 
"  Wyth  alle  maner  gode  metes,  and  to  misse  them  now 
"  It  were  a  botles  bale,"  &c.  p.  26,  b.     STEEVENS. 

s  Jlrst  swath,]   From  infancy.     Sivath  is  the  dress  of  a 

new-born  child.     JOHNSON. 

VOL.  XIX.  M 


162  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  iv. 


The  sweet  degrees6  that  this  brief  world  affords 
To  such  as  may  the  passive  drugs  of  it7 
Freely  command,8  thou  would'st  have  plung'd  thy- 
self 

In  general  riot ;  melted  down  thy  youth 
In  different  beds  of  lust;9  and  never  learn'd 
The  icy  precepts  of  respect,1  but  followed 

So,  in  Heywood's  Golden  Age,  1611 : 

"  No  more  their  cradles  shall  be  made  their  tombs, 
"  Nor  their  soft  sivaths  become  their  winding-sheets." 

Again,  in  Chapman's  translation  of  Homer's  Hymn  to  Apollo: 

" swaddled  with  sincere 

"  And  spotless  stvatk-bands ; — ."     STEEVENS. 

G  The  sweet  degrees — ]  Thus  the  folio.  The  modern  editor* 
have,  without  authority,  read — Through  &c.  but  this  neglect  of 
the  preposition  was  common  to  many  other  writers  of  the  age  of 
Shakspeare.  STEEVENS. 

7  To  such  as  may  the  passive  drugs  of  it — ],     Though  all  the 
modern  editors  agree  in  this  reading,  it  appears  to  me  corrupt. 
The  epithet  passive  is  seldom  applied,  except  in  a  metaphorical 
sense,  to  inanimate  objects ;  and  I  cannot  well  conceive  what 
Timon  can  mean  by  the  passive  drugs  of  the  world,  unless  he 
means  every  thing  that  the  world  affords. 

But  in  the  first  folio  the  words  are  not  "passive  drugs,"  but 
"  passive  drugges."  This  leads  us  to  the  true  reading — drudges, 
which  improves  the  sense,  and  is  nearer  to  the  old  reading  in  the 
trace  of  the  letters. 

Dr.  Johnson  says  in  his  Dictionary,  that  a  drug  means  a 
drudge,  and  cites  this  passage  as  an  instance  of  it.  But  he  is 
surely  mistaken ;  and  I  think  it  is  better  to  consider  the  passage 
as  erroneous,  than  to  acknowledge,  on  such  slight  authority, 
that  a  drug  signifies  a  drudge.  M.  MASON. 

8  command,^]     Old:  copy — command'st.     Corrected  by 

Mr.  Rowe.     MALONE. 

9  melted  down  thy  youth 

In  different  beds  of  lusts']   Thus,  in  the  Achilleid  of  Statins, 
II.  394 : 

" tenero  nee  fluxa  cubili 

"  Membra, ."     STEEVEXS. 

1  precepts  of  respect,"]     Of  obedience  to  laws. 

JOHNSON. 


sc.  m.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  16S 

The  sugar'd  game  before  thee.     But  myself,2 

Who  had  the  world  as  my  confectionary ; 

i 

Respect,  I  believe,  means  the  qu'en  dira't  on?  the  regard  of 
Athens,  that  strongest  restraint  on  licentiousness :  the  icy  pre- 
cepts, i.  e.  that  cool  hot  blood ;  what  Mr.  Burke  in  his  admira- 
ble Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France,  has  emphatically 
styled  "  one  of  the  greatest  controuling  powers  on  earth,  the 
sense  of  fame  and  estimation."  STEEVENS. 

Timon  cannot  mean  by  the  word  respect,  obedience  to  the 
laws,  as  Johnson  supposes ;  for  a  poor  man  is  more  likely  to  be 
impressed  with  a  reverence  for  the  laws,  than  one  in  a  station  of 
nobility  and  affluence.  Respect  may  possibly  mean,  as  Steevens 
supposes,  a  regard  to  the  opinion  of  the  world :  but  I  think  it 
has  a  more  enlarged  signification,  and  implies  a  consideration  of 
consequences,  whatever  they  may  be.  In  this  sense  it  is  used 
by  Hamlet : 

" There's  the  respect 

"  That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life."     M.  MASON. 

"  The  icy  precepts  of  respect"  mean  the  cold  admonitions  of 

cautious  prudence,  that  deliberately  weighs  the  consequences  of 

every  action.     So,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida  : 

" Reason  and  respect, 

"  Makes  livers  pale,  and  lustihood  deject." 

Again,  in  our  poet's  Rape  of  Lucrece: 

"  Then,  childish  fear,  avaunt!  debating  die! 
"  Respect  and  reason  wait  on  wrinkled  age ! 
"  Sad  pause  and  deep  regard  become  the  sage." 

Hence  in  King  Richard  III.  the  King  says: 

"  I  will  converse  with  iron-witted  fools, 

"  And  unrespective  boys;  none  are  for  me, 

"  That  look  into  me  with  considerate  eyes."     MALONE. 

*  But  myself,~\  The  connection  here  requires  some  at- 
tention. Bui  is  here  used  to  denote  opposition  ;  but  what  im- 
mediately precedes  is  not  opposed  to  that  which  follows.  The 
adversative  particle  refers  to  the  two  first  lines : 

Thou  art  a  slave,  whom  fortune's  tender  arm 

With  favour  never  clasp'd;  but  bred  a  dog. 

But  myself, 

Who  had  the  ivorld  as  my  confectionary ;  &c. 
The  intermediate  lines  are  to  be  considered  as  a  parenthesis  of 
passion.     JOHNSON. 

M  2 


164  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  ir. 

The  mouths,  the  tongues,  the  eyes,  and  hearts  of 

men 

At  duty,  more  than  I  could  frame  employment  j3 
.That  numberless  upon  me  stuck,  as  leaves 
Do  on  the  oak,  have  with  one  winter's  brush 
Fell  from  their  boughs,  and  left  me  open,  bare4 
For  every  storm  that  blows ; — I,  to  bear  this, 
That  never  knew  but  better,  is  some  burden : 
Thy  nature  did  commence  in  sufferance,  time 
Hath  made  thee  hard  in't.  Why  should'st  thou  hate 

men  ? 

They  never  flatter'd  thee :  What  hast  thou  given  ? 
If  thou  wilt  curse, — thy  father,  that  poor  rag,5 

3  than  I  could  frame  employment;^  i.e.  frame  employ- 
ment for.     Shakspeare  frequently  writes  thus.     See  Vol.  XV. 
p.  196,  n.  4 ;  and  Vol.  XVI.  p.  145,  n.  3.     MALONE. 

4  with  one  winter  s  brush 

Fell  from  their  boughs,  and  left  me  open,  bare  &c.]     So,  in 
Massinger's  Maid  of  Honour  : 
"  O  summer  friendship, 

"  Whose  flatt'ring  leaves  that  shadow'd  us  in  our 
"  Prosperity,  with  the  least  gust  drop  off 
"  In  the  autumn  of  adversity."     STEEVENS. 

Somewhat  of  the  same  imagery  is  found  in  our  author's  73d 
Sonnet : 

"  That  time  of  year  thou  may'st  in  me  behold, 
"  When  yellow  leaves,  or  none,  or  few,  do  hang 
"  Upon  those  boughs  which  shake  against  the  cold, 
"  Bare  ruin'd  choirs,  where  late  the  sweet  birds  sang." 

MALONE. 

5  that  poor  rag,]     If  we  read — poor  rogue,  it  will  cor- 
respond rather  better  to  what  follows.     JOHNSON. 

In  King  Richard  III.  Margaret  calls  Gloster  rag  of  honour ; 
in  the  same  play,  the  overweening  rags  of  France  are  mentioned ; 
and  John  Florio  speaks  of  a  "  tara-rcg  player."  STEEVENS. 

We  now  use  the  word  ragamuffin  in  the  same  sense. 

M.  MA sox. 

The  term  is  yet  used.  The  lowest  of  the  people  are  yet  de- 
nominated— Tag,  ray,  &c.  So,  in  Julius  Canar:  "  —  if  the 


sc.  in.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  165 

Must  be  thy  subject ;  who,  in  spite,  put  stuff 
To  some  she  beggar,  and  compounded  thee 
Poor  rogue  hereditary.     Hence !  be  gone ! — 
If  thou  hadst  not  been  born  the  worst  of  men, 
Thou  hadst  been  a  knave,  and  flatterer.6 

APEM.  Art  thou  proud  yet  ? 

TIM.  Ay,  that  I  am  not  thee. 

APEM.  I,  that  I  was 

No  prodigal. 

TIM.  I,  that  I  am  one  now ; 

Were  all  the  wealth  1  have,  shut  up  in  thee, 
I'd  give  thee  leave  to  hang  it.     Get  thee  gone. — 
That  the  whole  life  of  Athens  were  in  this ! 
Thus  would  I  eat  it.  [Eating  a  Root. 

APEM.  Here ;  I  will  mend  thy  feast. 

[Offering  him  something. 

tag-rag  people  did  not  clap  him  and  hiss  him, — I  am  no  true 
man."     MALONE. 

6  Thou  hadst  been  a  knave,  and  flatter  er.~]  Dryden  has  quoted 
two  verses  of  Virgil  to  show  how  well  he  could  have  written 
satires.  Shakspeare  has  here  given  a  specimen  of  the  same 
power  by  a  line  bitter  beyond  all  bitterness,  in  which  Timon 
tells  Apemantus,  that  he  had  not  virtue  enough  for  the  vices 
which  he  condemns. 

Dr.  Warburton  explains  worst  by  Invest,  which  somewhat 
weakens  the  sense,  and  yet  leaves  it  sufficiently  vigorous. 

I  have  heard  Mr.  Burke  commend  the  subtilty  of  discrimina- 
tion with  which  Shakspeare  distinguishes  the  present  character  of 
Timon  from  that  of  Apemantus,  whom  to  vulgar  eyes  he  would 
now  resemble.  JOHNSON. 

Knave  is  here  to  be  understood  of  a  man  who  endeavours  to 
recommend  himself  by  a  hypocritical  appearance  of  attention, 
and  superfluity  of  fawning  officiousness ;  such  a  one  as  is  called 
in  King  Lear,  a  finical  superserviceable  rogue. — If  he  had  had 
virtue  enough  to  attain  the  profitable  vices,  he  would  have  been 
profitably  vicious.  STEEVENS. 


166  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  iv. 

TIM.  First  mend  my  company,7  take  away  thy- 
self.8 

APEM.  So  I  shall  mend  mine  own,  by  the  lack  of 
thine. 

TIM.  'Tis  not  well  mended  so,  it  is  but  botch'd ; 
If  not,  I  would  it  were. 

APEM.  What  would'st  thou  have  to  Athens  ? 

TIM.  Thee  thither  in  a  whirlwind.    If  thou  wilt, 
Tell  them  there  I  have  gold  ;  look,  so  I  have. 

APEM.  Here  is  no  use  for  gold. 

TIM.  The  best,  and  truest : 

For  here  it  sleeps,  and  does  no  hired  harm. 

APEM.  Where  ly'st  o'nights,  Timon  ? 

TIM.  Under  that's  above  me.9 

Where  feed'st  thou  o'days,  Apemantus  ? 

APEM.  Where  my  stomach  finds  meat ;  or,  ra- 
ther, where  I  eat  it. 

TIM.  'Would  poison  were  obedient,  and  knew 
my  mind ! 

APEM.  Where  would'st  thou  send  it  ? 

TlM.  To  sauce  thy  dishes. 

APEM.  The  middle  of  humanity  thou   never 

7  First  mend  my  company,']  The  old  copy  reads — mend  thy 
company.     The  correction  was  made  by  Mr.  llowe.     MALONE. 

8  take  away  thyself.']     This  thought  seems  to  have  been 

adopted  from  Plutarch's  Life  of  Antony.     It  stands  thus  in  Sir 
Thomas  North's  translation :  "  Apemantus  said  unto  the  other, 
O,  here  is  a  trimme  banket,  Timon.     Timon  aunswered,  yea,  said 
he,  so  thou  wert  not  here."     STEEVENS. 

3  Apem.  Where  lyst  o  nights,  Timon  ? 
Tirn.  Under  that's  above  me.']     So,  in  Coriolanus: 
"  3  Serv.  Where  dwell'st  thou  ? 
"  Cor.  Under  the  canopy.'*     STEEVENS. 


sc.  m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  167 

knewest,  but  the  extremity  of  both  ends  :  When 
thou  wast  in  thy  gilt,  and  thy  perfume,  they  mocked 
thee  for  too  much  curiosity  j '  in  thy  rags  thou 
knowest  none,  but  art  despised  for  the  contrary. 
There's  a  medlar  for  thee,  eat  it. 

TIM.  On  what  I  hate,  I  feed  not. 

APEM.  Dost  hate  a  medlar  ? 

TIM.  Ay,  though  it  look  like  thee.2 

APEM.  An  thou  hadst  hated  medlers  sooner,  thou 
should'st  have  loved  thyself  better  now.  What 
man  didst  thou  ever  know  unthrift,  that  was  be- 
loved after  his  means  ? 

TIM.  Who,  without  those  means  thou  talkest  of, 
didst  thou  ever  know  beloved  ? 

APEM.  Myself. 

1  for  too  much  curiosity ;]  i.  e.  for  too  much  finical  deli- 
cacy.    The  Oxford  editor  alters  it  to  courtesy.    WARBURTON. 

Dr.  Warburton  has  explained  the  word  justly.  So,  in  Jervas 
Markham's  English  Arcadia,  1606 :  "  —  for  all  those  eye- 
charming  graces,  of  which  with  sucli  curiosity  she  had  boasted." 
Again,  in  Hobby's  translation  of  Castiglione's  Cortegiano,  1556: 
"  A  waiting  gentlewoman  should  flee  affection  or  curiosity." 
Curiosity  is  here  inserted  as  a  synonyme  to  affection,  which 
means  affectation.  Curiosity  likewise  seems  to  have  meant 
capriciousness.  Thus,  in  Greene's  Mamillia,  1593:  "  Pharicles 
hath  shewn  me  some  curtesy,  and  I  have  not  altogether  requited 
him  with  curiosity :  he  hath  made  some  shew  of  love,  and  I  have 
not  wholly  seemed  to  mislike."  STJEEVENS. 

2  Ay,  though  it  look  like  t/iee,~]     Timon  here  supposes  that  an 
objection  against  hatred,  which  through  the  whole  t-nor  of  the 
conversation  appears  an  argument  for  it.     One  would  have  ex- 
pected him  to  have  answered — 

Yes,  for  it  looks  like  thee. 

The  old  edition,  which  always  gives  the  pronoun  instead  of  the 
affirmative  particle,  has  it — 

I,  though  it  look  like  thee. 
Perhaps  we  should  read : 

I  thought  it  look'd  like  thee.    JOHNSON. 


168  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  iv. 

TIM.  I  understand  thee  ;  thou  hadst  some  means 
to  keep  a  dog. 

APEM.  What  things  in  the  world  canst  thou 
nearest  compare  to  thy  flatterers  ? 

TIM.  Women  nearest ;  but  men,  men  are  the 
things  themselves.  WThat  would'st  thou  do  with 
the  world,  Apemantus,  if  it  lay  in  thy  power  ? 

APEM.  Give  it  the  beasts,  to  be  rid  of  the  men. 

TIM.  Would'st  thou  have  thyself  fall  in  the  con- 
fusion of  men,  and  remain  a  beast  with  the  beasts  ? 

APEM.  Ay,  Tim  on. 

TIM.  A  beastly  ambition,  which  the  gods  grant 
thee  to  attain  to  !  If  thou  wort  the  lion,  the  fox 
would  beguile  thee :  if  thou  wert  the  lamb,  the  fox 
would  eat  thee :  if  thou  wert  the  fox,  the  lion 
would  suspect  thee,  when,  pei'ad venture,  thou  wert 
accused  by  the  ass  :  if  thou  wert  the  ass,  thy  dul- 
ness  would  torment  thee  ;  and  still  thou  livedst  but 
as  a  breakfast  to  the  wolf:  if  thou  wert  the  wolf, 
thy  greediness  would  afflict  thee,  and  oft  thou 
shouldst  hazard  thy  life  for  thy  dinner :  wert  thou 
the  unicorn,3  pride  and  wrath  would  confound 
thee,  and  make  thine  own  self  the  conquest  of  thy 
fury :  wert  thou  a  bear,  thou  would'st  be  killed  by 
the  horse;  wert  thou  a  horse, thou would'stbe  seized 
by  the  leopard ;  wert  thou  a  leopard,  thou  wert 

s  the  unicorn,  &c.]   The  account' given  of  the  unicorn  is 

this :  that  he  and  the  lion  being  enemies  by  nature,  as  soon  as 
the  lion  sees  the  unicorn  he  betakes  himself  to  a  tree :  the  uni- 
corn in  his  fury,  and  with  all  the  swiftness  of  his  course,  running 
at  him,  sticks  his  horn  fast  in  the  tree,  and  then  the  lion  falls 
upon  him  and  kills  him.  Gesner  Hist.  Animal.  HANMER. 

See  a  note  on  Julius  Ccesar,  Vol.  XVI.  p.  305,  n.  2. 

STEEVENS. 


sc.m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  169 

german  to  the  lion,4  and  the  spots  of  thy  kindred 
were  jurors  on  thy  life  :  all  thy  safety  were  remo- 
tion ; 3  and  thy  defence,  absence.  What  beast 
could' st  thou  be,  that  were  not  subject  to  a  beast? 
and  what  a  beast  art  thou  already,  that  seest  not 
thy  loss  in  transformation  ? 

APEM.  If  thou  could' st  please  me  with  speaking 
to  me,  thou  might* st  have  hit  upon  it  here  :  The 
commonwealth  of  Athens  is  become  a  forest  of 
beasts. 

TIM.  How  has  the  ass  broke  the  wall,  that  thou 
art  out  of  the  city  ? 

APEM.  Yonder  comes  a  poet,  and  a  painter : 
The  plague  of  company  light  upon  thee !  I  will 
fear  to  catch  it,  and  give  way :  When  I  know  not 
wrhat  else  to  do,  I'll  see  thee  again. 

TIM.  When  there  is  nothing  living  but  thee, 
thou  shalt  be  welcome.  I  had  rather  be  a  beggar's 
dog,  than  Apemantus. 

APEM.  Thou  art  the  cap  of  all  the  fools  alive.6 

4  thou  toert  german  to  the  lion,~\     This  seems  to  be  an 

allusion  to  Turkish  policy: 

"  Bears,  like  the  Turk,  no  brother  near  the  throne." 

Pope. 
See  Vol.  XII.  p.  222,  n.  3.     STEEVENS. 

5  were  remotion;]    i.  e.  removal  from  place  to  place. 

So,  in  King  Lear  : 

"  'Tis  the  remotion  of  the  duke  and  her."     STEEVENS. 

Remotion  means,  I  apprehend,  not  a  fi-equent  removal  from 
place  to  place,  but  merely  remoteness,  the  being  placed  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  lion.  See  Vol.  VI.  p.  213,  n.  7 ;  and  Vol.  XL 
p.  371,  n.  1.  MALONE. 

0  Thou  art  the  cap  &c.]  The  top,  the  principal.  The  re- 
maining dialogue  has  more  malignity  than  wit.  JOHNSON. 

Dr.  Johnson's  explication  is,  I  think,  right ;  but  I  believe  our 
author  had  also  the  fool's  cap  in  his  thoughts.  MALONE. 


170  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  or. 

•f' 

TIM.  'Would  thou  wert  clean  enough  to  spit 
upon. 

APEM.  A  plague  on  thee,  thou  art  too  bad  to 
curse.7 

TIM.  All  villains,  that  do  stand  by  thee,  are 
pure.8 

APEM.  There  is  no  leprosy  but  what  thou  speak'st. 

TIM.  If  I  name  thee.— 
I'll  beat  thee, — but  I  should  infect  my  hands. 

APEM.  I  would,  my  tongue  could  rot  them  off! 

TIM.  Away,  thou  issue  of  a  mangy  dog ! 
Choler  does  kill  me,  that  thou  art  aiive ; 
I  swoon  to  see  thee. 

APEM.  'Would  thou  would' st  burst ! 

TIM.  Away, 

Thou  tedious  rogue !  I  am  sorry,  I  shall  lose 
A  stone  by  thee.  [Throws  a  Stone  at  him. 

APEM.          Beast ! 
TIM.  Slave ! 

APEM.  Toad ! 

TIM.  Rogue,  rogue,  rogue  ! 

[APEMANTUS  retreats  backward,  as  going. 

In  All's  'well  that  ends  'well,  "  the  cap  of  the  time,"  appa- 
rently means — the  foremost  in  the  fashion.  STEEVENS. 

7  Apem.  A  plague  on  thee,  thou  art  too  bad  to  curse. ~\  Thus, 
the  old  copies,  and,  I  think,  rightly.  Mr.  Theobald,  however, 
is  of  a  contrary  opinion ;  for,  according  to  the  present  regula- 
tion, says  he,  Apemantus  is  "  made  to  curse  Timon,  and  imme- 
diately to  subjoin  that  he  was  too  bad  to  curse."  He  would 
therefore  give  the  former  part  of  the  line  to  Timon.  STEEVENS. 

6  All  villains,  that  do  stand  by  thee,  are  pure.~]  The  same 
sentiment  is  repeated  in  King  Lear: 

"  Those  wicked  creatures  yet  do  look  well-favour'd, 
"  When  others  are  more  wicked."     STEEVENS. 


«?:///.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  171 

I  am  sick  of  this  false  world ;  and  will  love  nought 
But  even  the  mere  necessities  upon  it. 
Then,  Timon,  presently  prepare  thy  grave ; 
Lie  where  the  light  foam  of  the  sea  may  beat 
Thy  grave-stone  daily :  make  thine  epitaph, 
That  death  in  me  at  others'  lives  may  laugh. 
O  thou  sweet  king-killer,  and  dear  divorce 

[Looking  on  the  Gold. 

'Twixt  natural  son  and  sire  !9  thou  bright  denier 
Of  Hymen's  purest  bed !  thou  valiant  Mars ! 
Thou  ever  young,  fresh,  lov'd,  and  delicate  wooer, 
Whose  blush  doth  thaw  the  consecrated  snow 
That  lies  on  Dian's  lap  ! *  thou  visible  god, 
That  solder'st  close  impossibilities, 
And  mak'st  them  kiss!  that  speak* st  with  every 

tongue, 

To  every  purpose !  O  thou  touch  of  hearts  !2 
Think,  thy  slave  man  rebels ;  and  by  thy  virtue 
Set  them  into  confounding  odds,  that  beasts 
May  have  the  world  in  empire ! 

APEM.  'Would  'twere  so  ; — 

But  not  till  I  am  dead ! — I'll  say,  thou  hast  gold : 

9  'Twixt  natural  son  and  sire  !"] 

"  A;a  rovrov  QVK  d8e\<pls 

"  Aia  rourov  ou  ro>oj£j."  Anac.     JOHNSON. 

1  Whose  Hush  doth  thaw  the  consecrated  snotv 

That  lies  on  Dian's  lap  /]    The  imagery  is  here  exquisitely 
beautiful  and  sublime.    WARBURTON. 

Dr.  Warburton  might  have  said — Here  is  a  very  elegant  turn 
given  to  a  thought  more  coarsely  expressed  in  King  Lear: 

" yon  simpering  dame, 

"  Whose  face  between  her  forks  presages  snow.'* 

STEEVENS. 

*  O  thou  touch  of  hearts  !"]    Touch,  for  touchstone.     So, 

in  King  Richard  III: 

"  O,  Buckingham,  now  do  I  play  the  touchy 

"  To  try  if  thou  be'st  current  gold ."    STEEVENS. 


172  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  iv. 

Thou  wilt  be  throng'd  to  shortly. 

TIM.  Throng'd  to  ? 

APEM.  Ay. 

TIM.  Thy  back,  I  pr'ythee. 
APEM.  Live,  and  love  thy  misery ! 

TIM.  Long  live  so,  and  so  die ! — I  am  quit. — 

\_Exit  APEMANTUS. 

More  things  like  men  ?3 — Eat,  Timon,  and  abhor 
them. 

Enter  Thieves.4 

1  THIEF.  Where  should  he  have  this  gold  ?  It  is 
some  poor  fragment,  some  slender  ort  of  his  re- 
mainder :  The  mere  want  of  gold,  and  the  falling- 
from  of  his  friends,  drove  him  into  this  melan- 
choly. 

2  THIEF.  It  is  noised,  he  hath  a  mass  of  trea- 
sure. 

3  THIEF.  Let  us  make  the  assay  upon  him  ;  if  he 

3  More  things  like  men  ?~\     This  line,  in  the  old  edition,  is 
given  to  Apemantus,  but  it  apparently  belongs  to  Timon.     Sir 
Thomas  Hanmer  has  transposed  the  foregoing  dialogue  accord- 
ing to  his  own  mind,  not  unskilfully,  but  with  unwarrantable 
licence.    JOHNSON. 

I  believe,  as  the  name  of  Apemantus  was  prefixed  to  this  line, 
instead  of  Timon,  so  the  name  of  Timon  was  prefixed  to  the 
preceding  line  by  a  similar  mistake.  That  line  seems  more  pro- 
per in  the  mouth  of  Apemantus ;  and  the  words — /  am  quit., 
seem  to  mark  his  exit.  MALONE. 

The  words — /  am  quit,  in  my  opinion,  belong  to  Timon,  who 
means  that  he  is  quit  or  clear,  has  at  last  got  rid  of  Apemantus  ; 
is  delivered  from  his  company.  This  phrase  is  yet  current 
among  the  vulgar.  STEEVENS. 

4  Enter  Thieves.]    The  old  copy  reads, — Enter  the  Banditti. 

STEEVENS. 


sc.m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  173 

care  not  for't,  he  will  supply  us  easily ;  If  he  co- 
vetously reserve  it,  how  shall*  s  get  it  ? 

2  THIEF.  True ;  for  he  bears  it  not  about  him, 
'tis  hid. 

1  THIEF.  Is  not  this  he  ? 
THIEVES.  Where? 

2  THIEF.  JTis  his  description. 

3  THIEF.  He ;  I  know  him. 
THIEVES.  Save  thee,  Timon. 
TIM.  Now,  thieves  ? 
THIEVES.  Soldiers,  not  thieves. 
TIM.  Both  too ;  and  women's  sons. 

THIEVES.  We  are  not  thieves,  but  men  that 
much  do  want. 

TIM.  Your  greatest  want  is,  you  want  much  of 
meat.5 

4  you  want  much  o/'meat.]     Thus  both  the  player  and 

poetical  editor  have  given  us  this  passage ;  quite  sand-blind,  as 
honest  Launcelot  says,  to  our  author's  meaning.  If  these  poor 
Thieves  wanted  meat,  what  greater  want  could  they  be  cursed 
with,  as  they  could  not  live  on  grass,  and  berries,  and  water  r 
but  I  dare  warrant  the  poet  wrote : 

you  much  want  of  meet. 

i.e.  Much  of  what  you  ought  to  be;  much  of  the  qualities  be- 
fitting you  as  human  creatures.     THEOBALD. 

Such  is  Mr.  Theobald's  emendation,  in  which  he  is  followed 
by  Dr.  Warburton.     Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads : 

you  want  much  of  men. 

They  have  been  all  busy  without  necessity.  Observe  the  series 
of  the  conversation.  The  Thieves  tell  him,  that  they  are  men 
that  much  do  want.  Here  is  an  ambiguity  between  much  want, 
and  want  of  much.  Timon  takes  it  on  the  wrong  side,  and  tells 
them  that  their  greatest  want  is,  that,  like  other  men,  they  want 
much  of  meat;  then  telling  them  where  meat  may  be  had,  he 
asks,  Want?  why  want?  JOHNSON. 


174  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  jr. 

Why  should  you  want?  Behold,  the  earth  hath 

roots ; 6 

Within  this  mile  break  forth  a  hundred  springs : 
The  oaks  bear  mast,  the  briars  scarlet  hips ; 
The  bounteous  housewife,  nature,  on  each  bush 
Lays  her  full  mess  before  you.  Want  ?  why  want  ? 

1  THIEF.  We  cannot  live  on  grass,  on  berries,, 

water, 
As  beasts,  and  birds,  and  fishes. 

TIM.  Nor  on  the  beasts  themselves,  the  birds, 

and  fishes ; 

You  must  eat  men.     Yet  thanks  I  must  you  con,7 
That  you  are  thieves  profess' d ;  that  you  work  not 
In  holier  shapes  :  for  there,  is  boundless  theft 
In  limited  professions.8     Rascal  thieves, 

Perhaps  we  should  read  : 

Your  greatest  ivant  is,  you  'want  much  of  me. 
rejecting  the  two  last  letters  of  the  word.  The  sense  will  then 
be — your  greatest  want  is  that  you  expect  supplies  of  me  from 
whom  you  can  reasonably  expect  nothing.  Your  necessities  are 
indeed  desperate,  when  you  apply  for  relief  to  one  in  my  situa- 
tion. Dr.  Farmer,  however,  with  no  small  probability,  would 
point  the  passage  as  follows  : 

Your  greatest  tvant  is,  you  tvant  much.     Of  meat 
Why  should  you  want?    Behold,  &c.     STEEVENS. 

6  . the  earth  hath  roots  ;  &c.] 

"  Vile  olus,  &  duns  hasrentia  mora  rubetis, 
"  Pugnantis  stomachi  composuere  famem  : 

"  Flumine  vicino  stultus  sitit." 

I  do  not  suppose  these  to  be  imitations,  but  only  to  be  similar 
thoughts  on  similar  occasions.     JOHNSON. 

7  Yet  thanks  /  must  you  con,]      To  con  thanks  is  a  very 

common  expression  among  our  old  dramatick  writers.     So,  in 
The  Story  of  King  Darius,  1565,  an  interlude: 

"  Yea  and  well  said,  I  con  you  no  thanke." 
Again,  in  Pierce  Pennilesse  his  Supplication  to  the  Devil,  by 
Nash,  1592 :  "  It  is  well  done  to  practise  my  wit ;  but  I  believe 
our  lord  will  con  thee  little  thanks  for  it."     STEEVENS. 

6  In  limited. professions.']  Limited,  for  legal.    WARBURTON. 


so.  m.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  175 

Here's  gold :   Go,  suck  the  subtle  blood  of  the 

grape, 

Till  the  high  fever  seeth  your  blood  to  froth, 
And  so  'scape  hanging :  trust  not  the  physician  j 
His  antidotes  are  poison,  and  he  slays 
More  than  you  rob :  take  wealth  and  lives  together; 
JDo  villainy,  do,  since  you  profess  to  do't,9 
Like  workmen.     I'll  example  you  with  thievery: 
The  sun's  a  thief,  and  with  his  great  attraction 
Robs  the  vast  sea :  the  moon's  an  arrant  thief, 
And  her  pale  fire  she  snatches  from  the  sun : 
The  sea's  a  thief,  whose  liquid  surge  resolves 
The  moon  into  salt  tears : l  the  earth's  a  thief, 

Regular,  orderly,  professions.     So,  in  Macbeth: 

"  For  'tis  my  limited  service." 

i.  e.  my  appointed  service,  prescribed  by  the  necessary  duty  and 
rules  of  my  office.     MALONE. 

9  since  you  profess  to  do't,~]    The  old  copy  has — protest. 

The  correction  was  made  by  Mr.  Theobald.     MALONE. 

1   The  sea's  a  thief,  whose  liquid  surge  resolves 

The  moon  into  salt  tears :]  The  moon  is  supposed  to  be 
humid,  and  perhaps  a  source  of  humidity,  but  cannot  be  resolved 
by  the  surges-  of  the  sea.  Yet  I  think  moon  is  the  true  reading. 
Here  is  a  circulation  of  thievery  described :  The  sun,  moon,  and 
sea,  all  rob,  and  are  robbed.  JOHNSON. 

He  says  simply,  that  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  seaf  rob 
one  another  by  turns,  but  the  earth  robs  them  all :  the  sea,  i.  e. 
liquid  surge,  by  supplying  the  moon  with  moisture,  robs  her  in 
turn  of  the  soft  tears  of  dew  which  the  poets  always  fetch  from 
this  planet.  Soft  for  salt  is  an  easy  change.  In  this  sense 
Milton  speaks  of  her  moist  continent.  Paradise  Lost,  Book  V. 
1.  422.  And,  in  Hamlet,  Horatio  says : 

" the  moist  star 

"  Upon  whose  influence  Neptune's  empire  stands." 

STEEVENS. 

We  are  not  to  attend  on  such  occasions  merely  to  philosophical 
truth ;  we  are  to  consider  what  might  have  been  the  received  or 
vulgar  notions  of  the  time. — The  populace,  in  the  days  of  Shak- 
speare,  might  possibly  have  considered  the  waining  of"  the  moon 


176  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  ir. 

That  feeds  and  breeds  by  a  composture2  stolen 

as  a  gradual  dissolution  of  it,  and  have  attributed  to  this  melting 
of  the  moon,  the  increase  of  the  sea  at  the  time  she  disappears. 
They  might,  it  is  true,  be  told,  that  there  is  a  similar  increase 
in  the  tides  when  the  moon  becomes  full ;  but  when  popular 
notions  are  once  established,  the  reasons  urged  against  them  are 
but  little  attended  to.  It  may  also  be  observed,  that  the  moon, 
when  viewed  through  a  telescope,  has  a  humid  appearance,  and 
seems  to  have  drops  of  water  suspended  from  the  rim  of  it ;  to 
which  circumstance  Shakspeare  probably  alludes  in  Macbeth, 
where  Hecate  says : 

"  Upon  the  corner  of  the  moon 

"  There  hangs  a  vaporous  drop,"  &c.     M.  MASONS 

Shakspeare  knew  that  the  moon  was  the  cause  of  the  tides, 
[See  The  Tempest,  Vol.  IV.  p.  169,]  and  in  that  respect  the  li- 
quid surge,  that  is,  the  waves  of  the  sea,  rising  one  upon  an- 
other, in  the  progress  of  the  tide,  may  be  said  to  resolve  the 
moon  into  salt  tears;  the  moon,  as  the  poet  chooses  to  state  the 
matter,  losing  some  part  of  her  humidity,  and  the  accretion  to 
the  sea,  in  consequence  of  her  tears,  being  the  cause  of  the  li- 
quid surge.  Add  to  this  the  popular  notion,  yet  prevailing,  of 
the  moon's  influence  on  the  weather ;  which,  together  with  what 
has  been  already  stated,  probably  induced  our  author  here  and 
in  other  places  to  allude  to  the  luatry  quality  of  that  planet.  In 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  he  speaks  of  her  "  ivatry  beams." 
Again,  in  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  : 

"  Quench'd  in  the  chaste  beams  of  the  ivutry  moon." 
Again,  more  appositely,  in  King  Richard  III: 

"  That  I,  being  governed  by  the  ivatry  moon, 

"  May  bring  forth  plenteous  tears,  to  drown  the  world." 
Salt  is  so  often  applied  by  Shakspeare  to  tears,  that  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  original  reading  is  the  true  one :  nor  had 
the  poet,  as  I  conceive,  deiv,  at  all  in  his  thoughts.  So,  in  All's 
laell  that  ends  well:  "  — your  salt  tears'  head — ."  Again,  in 
Troilus  and  Cressida  : 

"  Distasted  with  the  salt  of  broken  tears." 
Again,  in  King  Richard  III: 

"  Those  eyes  of  thine  from  mine  have  drawn  salt  tears" 
Again,  more  appositely,  in  King  Henry  VI.  Part  II: 

"  — to  drain 

"  Upon  his  face  an  ocean  of  salt  tears." 

Mr.  Toilet  idly  conjectures,  (for  conjecture  is  always  idle  where 
there  is  little  difficulty,)  that  we  should  read — The  main,  i.  e. 
the  main  land  or  continent.  So,  in  King  Henry  IV.  Part  II. 


sc.  m.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  177 

From  general  excrement:  each  thing's  a  thief; 


Act  III.  sc.  i :  "  The  continent  melt  itself  into  the  sea."  An 
observation  made  by  this  gentleman  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost, 
Vol.  VII.  p.  129,  had  he  recollected  it,  might  have  prevented 
him  from  attempting  to  disturb  the  text  here :  "  No  alteration 
should  be  made  in  these  lines  that  destroys  the  artificial  structure 
of  them." — In  the  first  line  the  sun  is  the  thief;  in  the  second 
he  is  himself  plundered  by  that  thief,  the  moon.  The  moon  is 
subjected  to  the  same  fate,  and,  from  being  a  plunderer ,  is  her- 
self ro bbed  of  moisture  (line  4th  and  5th)  by  the  sea. 

MALONE. 

I  cannot  say  for  a  certainty  whether  Allumazar  or  this  play 
was  first  written,  as  Timon  made  its  earliest  appearance  in  the 
folio,  1623.  Between  Albumazar  and  The  Alchymist  there  has 
been  likewise  a  contest  for  the  right  of  eldership.  The  original 
of  Albumazar  was  an  Italian  comedy  called  Lo  Astrologo,  written 
by  Battista  Porta,  the  famous  physiognomist  of  Naples,  and 
printed  at  Venice  in  1606.  The  translator  is  said  to  have  been 
a  Mr.  Tomkis,  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  The  Alchymist 
was  brought  on  in  1610,  which  is  four  years  before  Albumazar 
was  performed  for  the  entertainment  of  King  James ;  and  Ben 
Jonson  in  his  title-page  boldly  claims  the  merit  of  having  intro- 
duced a  new  subject  and  new  characters  on  the  stage : 

" petere  inde  coronam 

"  Undeprius  nulli  velarint  tempora  musce" 
The  play  of  Albumazar  was  not  entered  on  the  books  of  the  Sta- 
tioners' Company  till  April  28,  1615.     In  Albumazar,  however, 
such  examples  of  thievery  likewise  occur : 

"  The  world's  a  theatre  of  theft :  Great  rivers 
"  Rob  smaller  brooks ;  and  them  the  ocean. 
"  And  in  this  world  of  ours,  this  microcosm, 
"  Guts  from  the  stomach  steal ;  and  what  they  spare 
"  The  meseraicks  filch,  and  lay't  i'the  liver; 
"  Where  (lest  it  should  be  found)  turn'd  to  red  nectar, 
"  'Tis  by  a  thousand  thievish  veins  convey'd, 
"  And  hid  in  flesh,  nerves,  bones,  muscles,  and  sinews, 
"  In  tendons,  skin,  and  hair ;  so  that  the  property 
"  Thus  alter'd,  the  theft  can  never  be  discover'd. 
"  Now  all  these  pilferies,  couch'd,  and  compos'd  in  order, 
"  Frame  thee  and  me:  Man's  a  quick  mass  of  thievery." 

STEEVENS. 

Puttenham,    in  his   Arte  of  English  Poesie,    1589,   quotes 
some  one  of  a  "  reasonable  good  iacilitie  in  translation,  who 
VOL.  XIX.  X 


178  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  jy. 

The  laws,   your  curb  and  whip,3  in  their  rough 

power 

Have  uncheck'd  theft.  Love  not  yourselves;  away; 
Rob  one  another.  There's  more  gold :  Cut  throats  ; 
All  that  you  meet  are  thieves :  To  Athens,  go, 
Break  open  shops ;  nothing  can  you  steal,4 
But  thieves  do  lose  it :  Steal  not  less,5  for  this 
I  give  you  ;  and  gold  confound  you  howsoever ! 
Amen.  [TIMON  retires  to  his  Cave. 

finding  certaine  of  Anacreon's  Odes  very  well  translated  by 
Ronsard  the  French  poet — comes  our  minion,  and  translates  the 
same  out  of  French  into  English :"  and  his  strictures  upon  him 
evince  the  publication.  Now  this  identical  ode  is  to  be  met  with 
in  Ronsard ;  and  as  his  works  are  in  few  hands,  I  will  take  the 
liberty  of  transcribing  it : 

"  La  terre  les  eaux  va  boivant ; 

"  L'arbre  la  boit  par  sa  racine, 

"  La  mer  salee  boit  le  vent, 

"  Et  le  soleil  boit  la  marine. 

"  Le  soleil  est  beu  de  la  lune, 

"  Tout  boit  soit  en  haut  ou  en  has : 

*f  Suivant  ceste  reigle  commune, 

"  Pourquoy  done  ne  boirons-nous  pas  ?" 

Edit.  fol.  p.  507. 
FARMER. 

The  name  of  the  wretched  plagiarist  stigmatizedby  Puttenham, 
was  John  Southern,  as  appears  from  the  only  copy  of  his  Poems 
that  has  hitherto  been  discovered.  He  is  mentioned  by  Dray  ton 
in  one  of  his  Odes.  See  also  the  European  Magazine,  for  June 
1778.  STEEVENS. 

1 by  a  composture — ]  i.  e.  composition,  compost. 

STEEVENS. 

3  The  laixs,  your  curb  and  iuhip,~]  So,  in  Measure  for  Mea- 
sure : 

" most  biting  laws, 

"  The  needful  bits  and  curbs  for  headstrong  steeds." 

MALONE. 

* nothing  can  you  steal,"]    To  complete  the  measure  I 

would  read : 

where  nothing  can  you  steal, — .     STEEVENS. 

5 Steal  not  less,~]     Not,  which  was  accidentally  omitted 

in  the  old  copy,  was  inserted  by  Mr.  Rowe.     MALONE. 


sc.  m.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  179 

3  THIEF.  He  has  almost  charmed  me  from  my 
profession,  by  persuading  me  to  it. 

1  THIEF.  'Tis  in  the  malice  of  mankind,  that  he 
thus  advises  us ;  not  to  have  us  thrive  in  our  mys- 
tery.6 

2  THIEF.  I'll  believe  him  as  an  enemy,  and  give 
over  my  trade. 

1  THIEF.  Let  us  first  see  peace  in  Athens:  There 
is  no  time  so  miserable,  but  a  man  may  be  true.7 

\_Rxeunt  Thieves. 

Enter  FLAVIUS. 

x. 

FLAV.  O  you  gods  ! 

Is  yon  despis'd  and  ruinous  man  my  lord  ? 
Full  of  decay  and  failing  ?  O  monument 
And  wonder  of  good  deeds  evilly  bestow'd ! 
What  an  alteration  of  honour  has 

'  'Tis  in  the  malice  of  mankind,  that  he  thus  advises  us;  not 
to  have  us  thrive  in  our  mystery.'}  The  reason  of  his  advice,  says 
the  Thief,  is  malice  to  mankind,  not  any  kindness  to  us,  or  de- 
sire to  have  us  thrive  in  our  mystery.  JOHNSON. 

'  Let  us  first  see  peace  in  Athens:  There  is  no  time  so  miser- 
able, but  a  man  may  be  true."]  [Dr.  Warburton  divides  this  line 
between  thetwo  thieves.]  This  and  the  concluding  little  speech 
have  in  all  the  editions  been  placed  to  one  speaker :  But,  it  is 
evident,  the  latter  words  ought  to  be  put  in  the  mouth  of  the 
second  Thief,  who  is  repenting,  arid  leaving  off  his  trade. 

WARBURTON. 

The  second  Thief  has  just  said,  he'll  give  over  his  trade.  It 
is  time  enough  for  that,  says  the  first  Thief:  let  us  wait  till 
Athens  is  at  peace.  There  is  no  hour  of  a  man's  life  so  wretch- 
ed, but  he  always  has  it  in  his  power  to  become  a  true,  i.  e.  an 
honest  man.  I  have  explained  this  easy  passage,  because  it  has, 
I  think,  been  misunderstood. 

Our  author  has  made  Mrs.  Quickly  utter  nearly  the  same  ex- 
hortation to  the  dying  Falstaff :  "  —  Now  I  bid  him  not  think  of 
God;  there  was  time  enough  for  that  yet."  MALONE. 

N  2 


180  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  ir. 

Desperate  want  made  !8 

What  viler  thing  upon  the  earth,  than  friends, 
Who  can  bring  noblest  minds  to  basest  ends ! 
How  rarely9  does  it  meet  with  this  time's  guise, 
When  man  was  wish'd  to  love  his  enemies : l 
Grant,  I  may  ever  love,  and  rather  woo 
Those  that  would  mischief  me,  than  those  that  do!2 
He  has  caught  me  in  his  eye :  I  will  present 
My  honest  grief  unto  him  ;  and,  as  my  lord, 
Still  serve  him  with  my  life. — My  dearest  master  \ 

TIMON  comes  forward  from  his  Cave. 

TIM.  Away !  what  art  thou  ? 

FLAV.  Have  you  forgot  me,  sir? 

8  What  an  alteration  of  honour  has 

Desperate  'want  made!']  An  alteration  of  honour,  is  an  alter- 
ation 01  an  honourable  state  to  a  state  of  disgrace.  JOHNSON. 

9  How  rarely  does  it  meet — ]  Rarely  for  fitly;  not  for  seldom, 

WARBURTON. 

How  curiously ;  how  happily.     MALONE. 

1  When  man  ivas  wish'd  to  love  his  enemies :]  We  should  read 
— ivill'd.     He  forgets  his  Pagan  system  here  again. 

WARBURTON. 

Wish'd  is  right.  It  means  recommended,     See  Vol.  VI.  p.  79, 
n.  6 ;  and  Vol.  IX.  p.  45,  n.  4.     REED. 

2  Grant,  I  may  ever  love,  and  rather  woo 

Those  that  would  mischief  me,  than  those  that  do !]  It  is 
plain,  that  in  this  whole  speech  friends  and  enemies  are  taken 
only  for  those  who  profess  friendship  and  profess  enmity;  for 
the  friend  is  supposed  not  to  be  more  kind,  but  more  dangerous 
than  the  enemy.  The  sense  is,  Let  me  rather  ivoo  or  caress 
those  that  would  mischief,  that  profess  to  mean  me  mischief, 
than  those  that  really  do  me  mischief,  wider  false  professions  of 
kindness.  The  Spaniards,  I  think,  have  this  proverb :  Defend 
me  from  my  friends,  and  from  my  enemies  I  ivill  defend  myself. 
This  proverb  is  a  sufficient  comment  on  the  passage.  JOHNSON. 


sc.  in.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  181 

TIM.  Why  dost  ask  that?  I  have  forgot  all  men ; 
Then,  if  thou  grant'st  thou'rt  man,3  I  have  forgot 
thee. 

FLAV.  An  honest  poor  servant  of  yours. 

TIM.  Then 

I  know  thee  not :  I  ne'er  had  honest  man 
About  me,  I ;  all  that4  I  kept  were  knaves,5 
To  serve  in  meat  to  villains. 

FLAV.  The  gods  are  witness, 

Ne'er  did  poor  steward  wear  a  truer  grief 
For  his  undone  lord,  than  mine  eyes  for  you. 

TIM.  What,  dost  thou  weep  ? — Come  nearer  j — 

then  I  love  thee, 

Because  thou  art  a  woman,  and  disclaim'st 
Flinty  mankind ;  whose  eyes  do  never  give, 
But  thorough  lust,  and  laughter.    Pity's  sleeping : s 


3 thou'rt  man']  Old  copy — thou' 'rt  a  man.     STEEVENS. 

4 that — ]     I  have  supplied  this  pronoun,  for  the  metre's 

sake.     STEEVENS. 

* knaves,"]     Knave  is  here  in  the  compound  sense  of  a 

servant  and  a  rascal.     JOHNSON, 

6 Pity's  sleeping:"]     I  do  not  know  that  any  correction 

is  necessary,  but  I  think  we  might  read : 
eyes  do  never  give, 


But  thorough  lust  and  laughter,  pity  sleeping:- 


Eyes  never  floiu  (to  give  is  to  dissolve,  as  saline  bodies  in  moist 
weather,)  but  by  lust  or  laughter,  undisturbed  by  emotions  of 
pity.  JOHNSON. 

Johnson  certainly  is  right  in  reading — Pity  sleeping.     The 
following  line  proves  it : 

"  Alcib.  on  thy  low  grave,  on  faults  forgiven." 

Surely  Theobald's  punctuation  is  preferable  to  Malone's. 

M.  MASON. 

Pity's  sleeping:']   So,  in  Daniel's  second  Sonnet,  1594  : 

"  Waken  her  sleeping  pity  with  your  crying." 

MALONE. 


182  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  iv. 

Strange  times,  that  weep  with  laughing,  not  with 
weeping ! 

FLAV.  I  beg  of  you  to  know  me,  good  my  lord, 
To  accept  my  grief,  and,  whilst  this  poor  wealth 

lasts, 
To  entertain  me  as  your  steward  still. 

TIM.  Had  I  a  steward  so  true,  so  just,  and  now 
So  comfortable  ?  It  almost  turns 
My  dangerous  nature  wild.7     Let  me  behold 


It  almost  turns 


My  dangerous  nature  wild.]  i.  e.  It  almost  turns  my 
dangerous  nature  to  a  dangerous  nature ;  for,  by  dangerous  na- 
ture is  meant  ivildness.  Shakspeare  wrote : 

It  almost  turns  my  dangerous  nature  mild. 

i.  e.  It  almost  reconciles  me  again  to  mankind.  For  fear  of  that, 
he  puts  in  a  caution  immediately  after,  that  he  makes  an  excep- 
tion but  for  one  man.  To  which  the  Oxford  editor  says,  r-  cte: 

WARBURTON. 

This  emendation  is  specious,  but  even  this  may  be  controvert- 
ed. To  turn  "wild  is  to  distract.  An  appearance  so  unexpected, 
says  Timon,  almost  turns  my  savageness  to  distraction.  Ac- 
cordingly he  examines  with  nicety  lest  his  phrenzy  should 
deceive  him : 

" Let  me  behold 

"  Thy  face. — Surely,  this  man  was  born  of  woman. — " 
And  to  this  suspected  disorder  of  the  mind  he  alludes : 

"  Perpetual-sofor  gods !" 

Ye  powers  whose  intellects  are  out  of  the  reach  of  perturbation. 

JOHNSON. 

He  who  is  so  much  disturbed  as  to  have  no  command  over  his 
actions,  and  to  be  dangerous  to  all  around  him,  is  already  dis- 
tracted, and  therefore  it  would  be  idle  to  talk  of  turning  such 
"  a  dangerous  nature  wild :"  it  is  wild  already.  Besides ;  the 
baseness  and  ingratitude  of  the  world  might  very  properly  be 
mentioned  as  driving  Timon  into  frenzy:  (So,  in  Antony  and 
Cleopatra  : 

"  The  ingratitude  of  this  Seleucus  does 

"  Even  make  me  'wild."} 

but  surely  the  kindness  and  fidelity  of  his   Steward  was  more 
likely  to  soften  and  compose  him  ;  that  is,  to  render  his  danger- 


sc.  in.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  183 

Thy  .face. — Surely,   this  man  was  born   of  wo- 
man.— 

Forgive  my  general  and  exceptless  rashness, 
Perpetual-sober8  gods !  I  do  proclaim 
One  honest  man, — mistake  me  not, — but  one  ; 
No  more,  I  pray, — and  he  is  a  steward. — 
How  fain  would  I  have  hated  all  mankind, 
And  thou  redeem'st  thyself:  But  all,  save  thee, 
I  fell  with  curses. 

Methinks,  thou  art  more  honest  now,  than  wise ; 
For,  by  oppressing  and  betraying  me, 
Thou  might'st  have  sooner  got  another  service  : 
For  many  so  arrive  at  second  masters, 
Upon  their  first  lord's  neck.     But  tell  me  true, 
(For  I  must  ever  doubt,  though  ne'er  so  sure,) 
Is  not  thy  kindness  subtle,  covetous, 
If  not  a  usuring9  kindness ;  and  as  rich  men  deal 

gifts, 
Expecting  in  return  twenty  for  one  ? 


ous  nature  mild.    I  therefore  strongly  incline  to  Dr.  Warburton's 
emendation.     MALONE. 

*  Perpetual-sober — ]     Old  copy,  unmetrically — 
io\\  perpetual  £c.     STEEVENS. 

'  If  not  a  usuring — ]  If  not  seems  to  have  slipt  in  here,  by 
an  error  of  the  press,  from  the  preceding  line.  Both  the  sense 
and  metre  would  be  better  without  it.  TYRWHITT. 

I  do  not  see  any  need  of  change.  Timon  asks  — Has  not  thy 
kindness  some  covert  design  ?  Is  it  not  proposed  with  a  view  to 
gain  some  equivalent  in  return,  or  rather  to  gain  a  great  deal 
more  than  thou  offeresi?  Is  it  not  at  least  the  offspring  of 
avarice,  if  not  of  something  worse,  of  usury?  In  this  there 
appears  to  me  no  difficulty.  MALONE. 

My  opinion  most  perfectly  coincides  with  that  of  Mr.  Tyrwhitt. 
The  sense  of  the  line,  with  or  without  the  contested  words,  is 
nearly  the  same  ;  yet,  by  the  omission  of  them,  the  metre  would 
become  sufficiently  regular.  STEEA-EXS. 


184  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  ir. 

FLAV.  No,  my  most  worthy  master,  in  whose 

breast 

Doubt  and  suspect,  alas,  are  plac'd  too  late : 
You  should  have  fear'd  false  times,  when  you  did 

feast : 

Suspect  still  comes  where  an  estate  is  least. 
That  which  I  show,  heaven  knows,  is  merely  love, 
Duty  and  zeal  to  your  unmatched  mind, 
Care  of  your  food  and  living  :  and,  believe  it, 
My  most  honour' d  lord, 
For  any  benefit  that  points  to  me, 
Either  in  hope,  or  present,  I'd  exchange 
For  this  one  wish,  That  you  had  power  and  wealth 
To  requite  me,  by  making  rich  yourself. 

TIM.  Look  thee,  'tis  so ! — Thou  singly  honest 

man, 

Here,  take  : — the  gods  out  of  my  misery 
Have  sent  thee  treasure.  Go,  live  rich,  and  happy  : 
But  thus  conditional ;  Thou  shalt  build  from  men ; l 
Hate  all,  curse  all :  show  charity  to  none  ; 
But  let  the  famish'd  flesh  slide  from  the  bone, 
Ere  thou  relieve  the  beggar :  give  to  dogs 
What  thou  deny'st  to  men ;  let  prisons  swallow 

them, 

Debts  wither  them  : 2  Be  men  like  blasted  woods, 
And  may  diseases  lick  up  their  false  bloods ! 
And  so,  farewell,  and  thrive. 
FLAV.  O,  let  me  stay, 


1 from  men;~\     Away  from  human  habitations. 

JOHNSON. 

5  Debts  'wither  them:"]   Old  copy : 

Debts  wither  them  to  nothing : 

I  have  omitted  the  redundant  words,  not  only  for  the  sake  of 
metre,  but  because  they  are  worthless.  Our  author  has  the  same 
phrase  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra; 

"  Age  cannot  wither  her, — ."     STEEVENS. 


ACTV.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  185 

And  comfort  you,  my  master. 

TIM.  Ifthouhat'st 

Curses,  stay  not ;  fly,  whilstthou'rt  bless'd  and  free : 
Ne'er  see  thou  man,  and  let  me  ne'er  see  thee. 

[ Exeunt  severally. 


ACT  V.    SCENE  I. 

The  same.    Before  Timon's  Cave. 

Enter  Poet  and  Painter;3  TIMON  behind,  unseen. 

PAIN.  As  I  took  note  of  the  place,  it  cannot  be 
far  where  he  abides. 


3  Enter  Poet  and  Painter ;']  The  Poet  and  the  Painter  were 
within  view  when  Apemantus  parted  from  Timon,  and  might 
then  have  seen  Timon,  since  Apemantus,  standing  by  him  could 
see  them :  But  the  scenes  of  the  Thieves  and  Steward  have 
passed  before  their  arrival,  and  yet  passed,  as  the  drama  is  now 
conducted,  within  their  view.  It  might  be  suspected,  that  some 
scenes  are  transposed,  for  all  these  difficulties  would  be  removed 
by  introducing  the  Poet  and  Painter  first,  and  the  Thieves  in  this 
place.  Yet  I  am  afraid  the  scenes  must  keep  their  present  order, 
for  the  Painter  alludes  to  the  Thieves  when  he  says,  he  likewise 
enriched  poor  straggling  soldiers  ivith  great  quantity.  This  im- 
propriety is  now  heightened  by  placing  the  Thieves  in  one  Act, 
and  the  Poet  and  Painter  in  another:  but  it  must  be  remembered, 
that  in  the  original  edition  this  play  is  not  divided  into  separate 
Acts,  so  that  the  present  distribution  is  arbitrary,  and  may  be 
changed  if  any  convenience  can  be  gained,  or  impropriety  ob- 
viated by  alteration.  JOHNSON. 

In  the  immediately  preceding  scene,  Flavius,  Timon's  steward, 
has  a  conference  with  his  master,  and  receives  gold  from  him. 
Between  this  and  the  present  scene,  a  single  minute  cannot  be 


186  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  r. 

POET.  What's  to  be  thought  of  him  ?  Does  the 
rumour  hold  for  true,  that  he  is  so  full  of  gold  I 


supposed  to  pass;  and  yet  the  Painter  tells  his  companion : — 'Tis 
said  he  gave  his  steward  a  mighty  sum. — Where  was  it  said? 
Why  in  Athens,  whence,  it  must  therefore  seem,  they  are  but 
newly  come.  Here  then  should  be  fixed  the  commencement  of 
the  fifth  Act,  in  order  to  allow  time  for  Flavius  to  return  to  the 
city,  and  for  rumour  to  publish  his  adventure  with  Timon.  But 
how  are  we  in  this  case  to  account  for  Apemantus's  announcing 
the  approach  of  the  Poet  and  Painter  in  the  last  scene  of  the 
preceding  Act,  and  before  the  Thieves  appear?  It  is  possible, 
that  when  this  play  was  abridged  for  representation,  all  between 
this  passage,  and  the  entrance  of  the  Poet  and  Painter,  may 
have  been  omitted  by  the  players,  and  these  words  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Apemantus  to  introduce  them ;  and  that  when  it  was 
published  at  large,  the  interpolation  was  unnoticed.  Or,  if  we 
allow  the  Poet  and  Painter  to  see  Apemantus,  it  may  be  con- 
jectured that  they  did  not  think  his  presence  necessary  at 
their  interview  with  Timon,  and  had  therefore  returned  back 
into  the  city.  RITSON. 

I  am  afraid,  many  of  the  difficulties  which  the  commentators 
on  our  author  have  employed  their  abilities  to  remove,  arise  from 
the  negligence  of  Shakspeare  himself,  who  appears  to  have  been 
less  attentive  to  the  connection  of  his  scenes,  than  a  less  hasty 
writer  may  be  supposed  to  have  been.  On  the  present  occasion 
I  have  changed  the  beginning  of  the  Act.  It  is  but  justice  to 
observe,  that  the  same  regulation  has  already  been  adopted  by 
Mr.  Capell.  PLEED. 

I  perceive  no  difficulty.  It  is  easy  to  suppose  that  the  Poet 
and  Painter,  after  having  been  seen  at  a  distance  by  Apemantus, 
have  wandered  about  the  woods  separately  in  search  ofTimon's 
habitation.  The  Painter  might  have  heard  of  Timon's  having 
given  gold  to  Alcibiades,  &c.  before  the  Poet  joined  him;  for  it 
does  not  appear  that  they  set  out  from  Athens  together;  and  his 
intelligence  concerning  the  Thieves  and  the  Steward  might  have 
been  gained  in  his  rambles :  Or,  having  searched  for  Timon's 
habitation  in  vain,  they  might,  after  having  been  descried  by 
Apemantus,  have  returned  again  to  Athens,  and  the  Painter 
alone  have  heard  the  particulars  of  Timon's  bounty. — But 
Shakspeare  was  not  very  attentive  to  these  minute  particulars ; 
and  if  he  and  the  audience  knew  of  the  several  persons  who  had 
partaken  of  Timon's  wealth,  he  would  not  scruple  to  impart 


sc.  I.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  is? 

PAIN.  Certain  :  Alcibiades  reports  it ;  Phrynia 
and  Timandra  had  gold  of  him :  he  likewise  en- 
riched poor  straggling  soldiers  with  great  quantity: 
'Tis  said,  he  gave  unto  his  steward  a  mighty  sum. 

POET.  Then  this  breaking  of  his  has  been  but  a 
try  for  his  friends. 

PAIN.  Nothing  else :  you  shall  see  him  a  palm 
in  Athens  again,  and  flourish4  with  the  highest. 
Therefore,  'tis  not  amiss,  we  tender  our  loves  to 
him,  in  this  supposed  distress  of  his :  it  will  show 
honestly  in  us ;  and  is  very  likely  to  load  our  pur- 
poses with  what  they  travel  for,  if  it  be  a  just  and 
true  report  that  goes  of  his  having. 

POET.  What  have  you  now  to  present  unto  him  ? 

PAIN.  Nothing  at  this  time  but  my  visitation: 
only  I  will  promise  him  an  excellent  piece. 

POET.  I  must  serve  him  so  too  j  tell  him  of  an 
intent  that's  coming  toward  him. 

PAIN.  Good  as  the  best.  Promising  is  the  very 
air  o'the  time  :  it  opens  the  eyes  of  expectation  : 
performance  is  ever  the  duller  for  his  act ;  and,  but 
in  the  plainer  and  simpler  kind  of  people,  the  deed 
of  saying  is  quite  out  of  use.5  To  promise  is  most 


this  knowledge  to  persons  who  perhaps  had  not  yet  an  oppor- 
tunity of  acquiring  it.     See  Vol.  XIV.  p.  167,  n.  5. 

The  news  of  the  Steward's  having  been  enriched  by  Timon, 
though  that  event  happened  only  in  the  end  of  the  preceding 
scene,  has,  we  here  find,  reached  the  Painter;  and  therefore 
here  undoubtedly  the  fifth  Act  ought  to  begin,  that  a  proper  in- 
terval may  be  supposed  to  have  elapsed  between  this  and  the  last. 

MALONE. 

1 a  palm — and  flourish  $?c.~\   This  allusion  is  scriptural, 

and  occurs  in  Psalm  xcii.  11:  "  The  righteous  sha\ljlourish  like 
a  palm-tree."     STEEVENS. 

5 the  deed   of  saying  is  quite  out  of  use."]     The  doing  of 

that  'which  we  have  said  ive  would  do,  the  accomplishment  and 


188  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  v. 

courtly  and  fashionable  :  performance  is  a  kind  of 
will,  or  testament,  which  argues  a  great  sickness 
in  his  judgment  that  makes  it. 

TIM.  Excellent  workman  !  Thou  canst  not  paint 
a  man  so  bad  as  is  thyself. 

POET.  I  am  thinking,  what  I  shall  say  I  have 
provided  for  him :  It  must  be  a  personating  of  him- 
self:6 a  satire  against  the  softness  of  prosperity ; 
with  a  discovery  of  the  infinite  flatteries,  that  follow 
youth  and  opulency. 

TIM.  Must  thou  needs  stand  for  a  villain  in  thine 
own  work?  Wilt  thou  whip  thine  own  faults  in 
other  men  ?  Do  so,  I  have  gold  for  thee. 

POET.  Nay,  let's  seek  him  : 
Then  do  we  sin  against  our  own  estate, 
When  we  may  profit  meet,  and  come  too  late. 

PAIN.  True ; 

When  the  day  serves,7  before  black-corner'dnight,8 
Find  what  thou  want'st  by  free  and  offer'd  light. 
Come. 

performance  of  our  promise,  is,  except  among  the  lower  classes  of 
mankind,  quite  out  of  use.     So,  in  King  Lear: 

" In  my  true-heart 

"  I  find  she  names  my  very  deed  of  love." 
Again,  more  appositely,  in  Hamlet  : 

"  As  he,  in  his  peculiar  act  and  force, 

"  May  give  his  saying  deed." 

Mr.  Pope  rejected  the  words — of  saying,  and  the  four  follow- 
ing editors  adopted  his  licentious  regulation.  MALONE. 

I  claim  the  merit  of  having  restored  the  old  reading. 

STEEVENS. 

6  It  must  be  a  personating  of  himself :~\     Personating,  for  re- 
presenting simply.     For  the  subject  of  this  projected  satire  was 
Timon's  case,  not  his  person.     WARBURTON. 

7  When  the  day  serves,  &c.]    Theobald  with  some  probability 
assigns  these  two  lines  to  the  Poet.     MALONE. 

8 before  black-corner'd  night,]     An  anonymous   corre- 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  189 

TIM.  I'll  meet  you  at  the  turn.     What  a  god's 

gold, 

That  he  is  worshipped  in  a  baser  temple, 
Than  where  swine  feed ! 
'Tis  thou  that  rigg'st  the  bark,  and  plough'st  the 

foam; 

Settlest  admired  reverence  in  a  slave : 
To  thee  be  worship  !  and  thy  saints  for  aye 
Be  crown'd  with  plagues,  that  thee  alone  obey ! 
'Fit  I  do  meet  them.9  [Advancing. 

POET.  Hail,  worthy  Timon ! 

PAIN.  Our  late  noble  master. 

TIM.  Have  I  once  liv'd  to  see  two  honest  men? 

POET.  Sir, 

Having  often  of  your  open  bounty  tasted, 
Hearing  you  were  retir'd,  your  friends  fall'n  off, 
Whose  thankless  natures — O  abhorred  spirits ! 
Not  all  the  whips  of  heaven  are  large  enough — 
What!  to  you! 
Whose  star-like  nobleness  gave  life  and  influence 


spondent  sent  me  this  observation :  "  As  the  shadow  of  the 
earth's  body,  which  is  round,  must  be  necessarily  conical  over 
the  hemisphere  which  is  opposite  to  the  sun,  should  we  not  read 
black-coned?  See  Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV." 

To  tin's  observation  I  might  add  a  sentence  from  Philemon 
Holland's  translation  of  Pliny's  Natural  History,  B.  II :  "  Nei- 
ther is  the  night  any  thing  else  but  the  shade  of  the  earth.  Now 
the  figure  of  this  shadow  resembleth  a  pyramis  pointed  forward, 
or  a  top  turned  upside  down." 

I  believe,  nevertheless,  that  Shakspeare,  by  this  expression, 
meant  only,  Night  which  is  as  obscure  as  a  dark  corner.  In 
Measure  for  Measure,  Lucio  calls  the  Duke,  "  a  duke  of  dark 
corners."  Mr.  M.  Mason  proposes  to  read — "  black-crotcwV 
night;"  another  correspondent,  "  black-cover' d  night." 

STEEVENS. 

9  'Fit  I  do  meet  them.']  For  the  sake  of  harmony  in  this  he- 
mistich, I  have  supplied  the  auxiliary  verb.  STEEVENS. 


190  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  v. 

To  their  whole  being !  I'm  rapt,  and  cannot  cover 
The  monstrous  bulk  of  this  ingratitude 
With  any  size  of  words. 

TIM.  Let  it  go  naked,  men  may  see'tthe  better: 
You,  that  are  honest,  by  being  what  you  are, 
Make  them  best  seen,  and  known. 

PAIN.  He,  and  myself, 

Have  travelled  in  the  great  shower  of  your  gifts, 
And  sweetly  felt  it. 

TIM.  Ay,  you  are  honest  men. 

PAIN.  We  are  hither  come  to  offer  you  our  ser- 
vice. 

TIM.  Most  honest  men !  Why,  how  shall  I  re- 
quite you  ? 
Can  you  eat  roots,  and  drink  cold  water  ?  no. 

BOTH.  What  we  can  do,  we'll  do,  to  do  you 
service. 

TIM.  You  are  honest  men  :  You  have  heard  that 

I  have  gold ; 

I  am  sure,  you  have  :  speak  truth  :  you  are  honest 
men. 

PAIN.  So  it  is  said,  my  noble  lord :  but  therefore 
Came  not  my  friend,  nor  I. 

TIM.  Good  honest  men : — Thou  draw'st  a  coun- 
terfeit1 

Best  in  all  Athens :  thou  art,  indeed,  the  best ; 
Thou  counterfeit' st  most  lively. 

PAIN.  So,  so,  my  lord. 

1 a  counterfeit — ]    It  has  been  already  observed,  that  a 

portrait  was  so  called  in  our  author's  time : 

" What  find  I  here? 

"  Fair  Portia's  counterfeit !"     Merchant  of  Venice. 

STEEVENS. 


sc.  i.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  191 

TIM.  Even  so,   sir,  as  I  say: — And,  for  thy 
fiction,  [To  the  Poet. 

Why,  thy  verse  swells  with  stuff  so  fine  and  smooth, 
That  thou  art  even  natural  in  thine  art. — 
But,  for  all  this,  my  honest-natur'd  friends,  ' 
I  must  needs  say,  you  have  a  little  fault: 
Marry,  'tis  not  monstrous  in  you ;  neither  wish  I, 
You  take  much  pains  to  mend. 

BOTH.  Beseech  your  honour, 

To  make  it  known  to  us. 

TIM.  You'll  take  it  ill. 

BOTH.  Most  thankfully,  my  lord. 

TIM.  Will  you,  indeed  ? 

BOTH.  Doubt  it  not,  worthy  lord. 

TIM.  There's  ne'er  a  one  of  ypu  but  trusts  a 

knave, 
That  mightily  deceives  you. 

BOTH.  Do  we,  my  lord  ? 

TIM.  Ay,  and  you  hear  him  cog,  see  him  dis- 
semble, 

Know  his  gross  patchery,  love  him,  feed  him, 
Keep  in  your  bosom :  yet  remain  assur'd, 
That  he's  a  made-up  villain.2 

PAIN.  I  know  none  such,  my  lord. 

POET.  Nor  I.8 


a a  made-up  villain.']  That  is,  a  villain  that  adopts  qua- 
lities and  characters  not  properly  belonging  to  him ;  a  hypocrite. 

JOHNSON. 

A  made-tip  villain,  may  mean  a  complete,  a  finished  villain. 

M.  MASON. 

3  Nor  /.]  As  it  may  be  supposed  (perhaps  I  am  repeating  a 
remark  already  made  on  a  similar  occasion)  that  our  author  de- 
signed his  Poet's  address  to  be  not  less  respectful  than  that  of 


192  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  v. 

TIM.  Look  you,  I  love  you  well ;  I'll  give  you 

gold, 

Rid  me  these  villains  from  your  companies: 
Hang  them,  or  stab  them,  drown  themin  a  draught,4 
Confound  them  by  some  course,  and  come  to  me, 
I'll  give  you  gold  enough. 

BOTH.  Name  them,  my  lord,  let's  know  them. 

TIM.  You  that  way,  and  you  this,  but  two  in 
company  :5 — 


his  Painter,  he  might  originally  have  finished  this  defective  verse, 
by  writing : 

Nor  I,  my  lord.     STEEVENS. 

4 in  a  draught,]  That  is,  in  thejakes.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Holinshed,  Vol.  II.  p.  735 :  "  —  he  was  then  sitting  on 
a  draught."  STEEVENS. 

5 but  two  in  company:]     This  is  an  imperfect  sentence, 

and  is  to  be  supplied  thus,  But  two  in  company  spoils  all. 

WARBURTON. 

This  passage  is  obscure.  I  think  the  meaning  is  this:  but  two 
in  company,  that  is,  stand  apart,  let  only  two  be  together  ;  for  even 
when  each  stands  single  there  are  two,  he  himself  and  a  villain. 

JOHNSON. 

This  passage  may  receive  some  illustration  from  another  in 
The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  :  "  My  master  is  a  kind  of 
knave ;  but  that's  all  one,  if  he  be  but  one  knave."  The  sense  is, 
each  man  is  a  double  villain,  i.  e.  a  villain  with  more  than  a  sin- 
gle share  of  guilt.  See  Dr.  Farmer's  note  on  the  third  Act  of 
The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  &c.  Again,  in  Promos  and  Cas- 
sandra, 1578:  "  Go,  and  a  knave  with  thee."  Again,  in  The 
Storyc  of  King  Darius,  1565,  an  interlude: 

"  —     if  you  needs  will  go  away, 

"  Take  two  knaves  with  you  by  my  faye." 

There  is  a  thought  not  unlike  this  in  The  Scorriful  Lady  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher : — "  Take  to  your  chamber  when  you 
please,  there  goes  a  black  one  with  you,  lady."  STEEVENS. 

There  are  not  two  words  more  frequently  mistaken  for  each 
other,  in  the  printing  of  these  plays,  than  but  and  not.  I  have 
no  doubt  but  that  mistake  obtains  in  this  passage,  and  that  we 
should  read  it  thus: 


8C.I.-  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  193 

Each  man  apart,  all  single  and  alone, 
Yet  an  arch-villain  keeps  him  company. 
If,  where  thou  art,  two  villains  shall  not  be, 

[To  the  Painter. 
Come  not  near  him. — If  thou  would* st  not  reside 

[To  the  Poet. 

But  where  one  villain  is,  then  him  abandon. — 
Hence !  pack  !  there's  gold,  ye  came  for  gold,  ye 

slaves : 
You  have  done  work  for  me,  there's  payment:* 

Hence ! 

You  are  an  alchymist,  make  gold  of  that : — 
Out,  rascal  dogs ! 

[Exit,  beating  and  driving  them  out* 


•  not  two  in  company: 


Each  man  apart, .     M.  MASON. 

You  that  may,  and  you  this,  but  tivo  in  company: 

Each  man  apart,  all  single,  and  alone, 

Yet  an  arch-villain  keeps  him  company.^  The  first  of  these 
lines  has  been  rendered  obscure  by  false  pointing ;  that  is,  by 
connecting  the  words,  "  but  two  in  company,"  with  the  subse- 
quent line,  instead  of  connecting  them  with  the  preceding  he- 
mistich. The  second  and  third  line  are  put  in  apposition  with  the 
first  line,  and  are  merely  an  illustration  of  the  assertion  contained 
in  it.  Do  you  (says  Timon)  go  that  way,  and  you  this,  and  yet 
still  each  of  you  will  have  two-  in  your  company :  each  of  you, 
though  single  and  alone,  will  be  accompanied  by  an  arch-villain. 
Each  man,  being  himself  a  villain,  will  take  a  villain  along  with 
him,  and  so  each  of  you  will  have  two  in  company.  It  is  a 
mere  quibble  founded  on  the  word  company.  See  the  former 
speech,  in  which  Timon  exhorts  each  of  them  to  "  hang  or  stab 
the  villain  in  his  company,"  i.  e.  himself.  The  passage  quoted 
by  Mr.  Steevens  from  Promos  and  Cassandra,  puts  the  meaning 
beyond  a  doubt.  MALONE. 

1  You  have  done  ivork  £c.]  For  the  insertion  of  the  word 
done,  which,  it  is  manifest,  was  omitted  by  the  negligence  of 
the  compositor,  I  am  answerable.  Timon  in  this  line  addresses 

VOL.  XIX.  O 


194  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  v. 

4 

SCENE  II. 

The  same. 

Enter  FLAVIUS,  and  Two  Senators. 
FLAV.  It  is  in  vain  that  you  would  speak  with 

T-- 

I  imon ; 

For  he  is  set  so  only  to  himself, 
That  nothing  but  himself,  which  looks  like  man, 
Is  friendly  with  him. 

1  SEN.  Bring  us  to  his  cave : 
It  is  our  part,  and  promise  to  the  Athenians, 
To  speak  with  Timon. 

2  SEN.  At  all  times  alike 

Men  are  not  still  the  same  :  'Twas  time,  and  griefs, 
That  fram'd  him  thus :  time,  with  his  fairer  hand, 
Offering  the  fortunes  of  his  former  days, 
The  former  man  may  make  him  :  Bring  us  to  him, 
And  chance  it  as  it  may. 

FLAV.  Here  is  his  cave. — 

Peace  and  content  be  here  !  Lord  Timon !  Timon  ! 
Look  out,  and  speak  to  friends :  The  Athenians, 
By  two  of  their  most  reverend  senate,  greet  thee  : 
Speak  to  them,  noble  Timon. 


the  Painter,  whom  he  before  called  "  excellent  workman;"  iu 
the  next  the  Poet.     MALONE. 

1  had  rather  read : 

Youve  it)ork'dtfor  me,  there  is  your  payment :  Hence  ! 

STEKVEKS, 


sc.  n.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  195 


Enter  TIMON. 

TIM.  Thou  sun,  that  comfort' st,  burn  !7 — Speak, 

and  be  hang'd : 

For  each  true  word,  a  blister !  and  each  false 
Be  as  a  caut'rizing8  to  the  root  o'the  tongue, 
Consuming  it  with  speaking ! 

l  SEN.  Worthy  Timon, 

TIM.  Of  none  but  such  as  you,  and  you  of  Ti- 
mon. 

vSEN.The  senators  of  Athens  greet  thee,  Timon. 

TIM.  I  thank  them  ;  and  would  send  them  back 

the  plague, 
Could  I  but  catch  it  for  them. 

I  SEN.  O,  forget 

What  we  are  sorry  for  ourselves  in  thee. 
The  senators,  with  one  consent  of  love,9 

7  Thou  sun,  that  comfort' st,  burn  /]     "  Thine  eyes,"   says 
King  Lear  to  Regan,  "  do  comfort,  and  not  burn." 

A  similar  wish  occurs  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 
"  O, sun, 
"  Burn  the  great  sphere  thou  mov'st  in !"     STEEVENS. 

8  «  caut'rizing — 3    The  old  copy  reads — cantherizing  ; 

the  poet  might  have  written,  cancering.     STEEVENS. 

To  cauterize  was  a  word  of  our  author's  time ;  being  found 
in  Bullokar's  English  Expositor,  octavo,  1616,  where  it  is  ex- 
plained, "  To  burn  to  a  sore."  It  is  the  word  of  the  old  copy, 
with  the  u  changed  to  an  n,  which  has  happened- in  almost  every 
one  of  these  plays.  MALONE. 

9  — '—with  one  consent  of  love,~\     With  one  united  voice  ef 
affection.  So,  in  Brady  and  Tate's  translation  of  the  100th  Psalm : 

"  With  one  consent  let  all  the  earth." 

All  our  old  writers  spell  the  word  improperly,  consent,  without 
regard  to  its  etymology,  concentus.  See  Vol.  XII.  p.  217,  n.  5  ; 
and  p.  333,  n.  2.  MALONE. 

This  sense  of  the  word  consent,  or  concent,  WAS  originally 

o  2 


196  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  v. 

Entreat  thee  back  to  Athens ;  who  have  thought 
On  special  dignities,  which  vacant  lie 
For  thy  best  use  and  wearing. 

2  SEAT.  They  confess, 

Toward  thee,  forgetfulness  too  general,  gross : 
Which  now  the  publick  body,1 — whicli  doth  seldom 
Play  the  recanter, — feeling  in  itself 
A  lack  of  Timon's  aid,  hath  sense  withal 
Of  its  own  fall,2  restraining  aid  to  Timon;3 

pointed  out  and  ascertained  in  a  note  on  the  first  scene  of  The 
First  Part  of  King  Henry  VI.     See  Vol.  XIII.  p.  6,  n.  4. 

STEEVENS. 

1  Which  now  the  publick  body,"]  Thus  the  old  copy,  ungram- 
matically certainly ;  but  our  author  frequently  thus  begins  a  sen- 
tence, and  concludes  it  without  attending  to  what  has  gone  be- 
fore :  for  which  perhaps  the  carelessness  and  ardour  of  colloquial 
language  may  be  an  apology.  See  Vol.  IV.  p.  13,  n.  6.  So 
afterwards  in  the  third  scene  of  this  Act: 

"  Whom,  though  in  general  part  we  were  oppos'd, 
*'  Yet  our  old  love  made  a  particular  force, 
"  And  made  us  speak  like  friends." 

See  also  the  Poet's  third  speech  in  p.  190. — Sir  Thomas  Han- 
mer  and  the  subsequent  editors  read  here  more  correctly — And 
now  the  publick  body,  &c.  but  by  what  oversight  could  Which 
be  printed  instead  of  And?  MALONE. 

The  mistake  might  have  been  that  of  the  transcriber,  not  the 
printer.  STEEVENS. 

4  Of  its  own  fall,]  The  Athenians  had  sense,  that  is,  felt  the 
danger  of  their  own  Jail,  by  the  arms  of  Alcibiades. 

JOHNSON. 

I  once  suspected  that  our  author  wrote — Of  its  ovrnfail,  i.  e. 
failure.  So,  in  Coriolanus: 

"  That  if  you  Jail  in  our  request,  the  blame 

"  May  hang  upon  your  hardness." 
But  a  subsequent  passage  fully  supports  the  reading  of  the  text: 

" In,  and  prepare : 

"  Ours  is  the  fall,  I  fear,  our  foes  the  snare." 
Again,  in  sc.  iv : 

"  Before  proud  Athens  he's  set  down  by  this, 

"  Whoscya^  the  mark  of  his  ambition  is."     MALONE. 
3  i"       restraining  aid  to  Timon;~\   I  think  it  should  be  refrain-- 


se.-n.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  197 

And  send  forth  us,  to  make  their  sorrowed  render,4 
Together  with  a  recompense  more  fruitful 
Than  their  offence  can  weigh  down  by  the  dram  ; 5 
Ay,  even  such  heaps  and  sums  of  love  and  wealth, 
As  shall  to  thee  blot  out  what  wrongs  were  theirs, 
And  write  in  thee  the  figures  of  their  love, 
Ever  to  read  them  thine. 

TIM.  You  witch  me  in  it ; 

Surprize  me  to  .the  very  brink  of  tears ; 
Lend  me  a  fool's  heart,  and  a  woman's  eyes, 
And  I'll  beweep  these  comforts,  worthy  senators. 


ing  aid,  that  is,  with-holding  aid  that  should  have  been  given  to 
Timon.    JOHNSON. 

Where  is  the  difference  ?  To  restrain,  and  to  refrain,  both 
mean  to  with-hold.  M.  MASON. 

4  sorrowed  render,]   Thus  the  old  copy.     Render  is  con- 
fession.    So,  in  Cymbeline,  Act  IV.  sc.  iv: 

" may  drive  us  to  a  render 

"  Where  we  have  liv'd." 
The  modern  editors  read — tender.     STEEVENS. 

5  Than  their  offence  can  weigh  down  by  the  dram;~]    This, 
which  was  in  the  former  editions,  can  scarcely  be  right,  and  yet 
I  know  not  whether  my  reading  will  be  thought  to  rectify  it.     I 
take  the  meaning  to  be,  We  will  give  thee  a  recompense  that  our 
offences  cannot  outweigh,  heaps  of  wealth  down  by  the  dram,  or 
delivered  according  to  the  exactest  measure.     A  little  disorder 
may  perhaps  have  happened  in  transcribing,  which  may  be  re- 
formed by  reading : 

Ay,  evil  such  heaps, 

And  sums  of  love  and  wealth,  down  by  the  dram, 

As  shall  to  thee .     JOHNSON. 

The  speaker  means,  a  recompense  that  shall  more  than  coun- 
terpoise their  offences,  though  weighed  with  the  most  scrupulous 
exactness.  M.  MASON. 

A  recompense  so  large,  that  the  offence  they  have  committed, 
though  every  dram  of  that  offence  should  be  put  into  the  scale, 
cannot  counterpoise  it.  The  recompense  will  outweigh  the 
offence,  which,  instead  of  weighing  down  the  scale  in  which  it  is 
placed,  will  kick  the  beam.  MALOXE. 


198  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  v. 


.  Therefore,  so  please  thee  to  return  with 

us,  x 

And  of  our  Athens  (thine,  and  ours,)  to  take 
The  captainship,  thou  shalt  be  met  with  thanks, 
Allow*  a  with  absolute  power,6  and  thy  good  name 
Live  with  authority  :  —  so  soon  we  shall  drive  back 
Of  Alcibiades  the  approaches  wild  ; 
Who,  like  a  boar  too  savage,  doth  root  up7 
His  country's  peace. 

2  SEN.  And  shakes  his  threatening  sword 

Against  the  walls  of  Athens. 

1  SEN.  Therefore,  Timon,  — 

TIM.  Well,  sir,  I  will  ;  therefore,  I  will,  sir  ; 

Thus,— 

If  Alcibiades  kill  my  countrymen, 
Let  Alcibiades  know  this  of  Timon, 
That  —  Timon  cares  not.  But  if  he  sack  fair  Athens, 
And  take  our  goodly  aged  men  by  the  beards, 
Giving  our  holy  virgins  to  the  stain 
Of  contumelious,  beastly,  mad-brain'd  war  ; 
Then,  let  him  know,  —  and  tell  him,  Timon  speaks 

it, 

In  pity  of  our  aged,  and  our  youth, 
I  cannot  choose  but  tell  him,  that  —  I  care  not, 
And  let  him  tak't  at  worst  ;  for  their  knives  care 

not, 
While  you  have  tjiroats  to  answer  :  for  myself, 


b  Allow'd  "uoith  absolute  power, ]  Allowed  is  licensed,  privi- 
leged, uncontrolled.  So  of  a  buffoon,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost, 
it  is  said,  that  he  is  allotvcd,  that  is,  at  liberty  to  say  what  he 
will,  a  privileged  scoffer.  JOHNSON. 

like  a  boar,  too  savage,  doth  root  up — ]     This  image 

might  have  been  caught  from  Psdlm  Ixxx.  13  ;   "  The  "wild  boar 
out  of  the  wood  doth  root  it  up,"  &c.     STEEVENS. 


sc.  n.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  199 

There's  not  a  whittle  in  the  unruly  camp,8 

But  I  do  prize  it  at  my  love,  before 

The  reverend'st  throat  in  Athens.     So  I  leave  you 

To  the  protection  of  the  prosperous  gods,9 

As  thieves  to  keepers. 

FLAV.  Stay  not,  all's  in  vain. 

TIM.  Why,  I  was  writing  of  my  epitaph, 
It  will  be  seen  to-morrow ;  My  long  sickness1 
Of  health,  and  living,  now  begins  to  mend, 
And  nothing  brings  me  all  things.    Go,  live  still ; 
Be  Alcibiades  your  plague,  you  his, 
And  last  so  long  enough ! 

I  SEN.  We  speak  in  vain. 

TIM.  But  yet  I  love  my  country ;  and  am  not 
One  that  rejoices  in  the  common  wreck, 


8  There's  not  a  whittle  in  the  unruly  camp>~]    A  "whittle  is  still 
in  the  midland  counties  the  common  name  for  a  pocket  clasp 
knife,  such  as  children  use.     Chaucer  speaks  of  a  "  Sheffield 
thwittell"     STEEVENS. 

9  of  the  prosperous  gods,]     I  believe  prosperous  is  used 

here  with  our  poet's  usual  laxity,  in  an  active,  instead  of  a  passive, 
sense :  the  gods  ivho  are  the  authors  of  the  prosperity  of  mankind. 
So,  in  Othello: 

"  To  my  unfolding  lend  a  prosperous  car." 
I  leave  you," says  Timon,  to  the  protection  of  the  gods,  the  great 
distributors  of  prosperity,  that  they  may  so  keep  and  guard  you, 
as  jailors  do  thieves ;  i.  e.  for  final  punishment.     MALONE. 

I  do  not  see  why  the  epithet — ^prosperous,  may  not  be  employed 
here  with  its  common  signification,  and  mean — the  gods  who  are 
prosperous  in  all  their  undertakings.  Our  author,  elsewhere, 
has  blessed  gods,  clear  gods,  &c.  nay,  Euripides,  in  a  chorus  to 
his  Medea,l\as  not  scrupled  to  style  these  men  of  Athens — OEflN 
itaufes  MAKAP&N.  STEEVENS. 

1  My  Ions  sickness — ]  The  disease  of  life  begins  to  pro- 
mise me  a  period.  JOHNSON. 


'200  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  r. 

As  common  bruit2  doth  put  it. 

1  SEN.  That's  well  spoke. 

TIM.  Commend  me  to  my  loving  countrymen, — 

1  SEN.  These  words  become  your_lips  as  they 

pass  through  them. 

2  SEN.  And  enter  in  our  ears,  like  great  trium- 

phers 
In  their  applauding  gates. 

TIM.  Commend  me  to  them; 

And  tell  them,  that,  to  ease  them  of  their  griefs, 
Their  fears  of  hostile  strokes,  their  aches,  losses, 
Their  pangs  of  love,3  with  other  incident  throes 
That  nature's  fragile  vessel  doth  sustain 
In  life's  uncertain  voyage,  I  will  some  kindness  do 

them:4 
I'll  teach  them  to  prevent  wild  Alcibiades'  wrath. 

2  SEN.  I  like  this  well,  he  will  return  again. 
TIM.  I  have  a  tree,5which  grows  here  in  my  close, 

.  bruit — ]  i.  e.  report,  rumour.     So,  in  King  Henry  VI* 


Part  III: 

"  The  bruit  whereof  will  bring  you  many  friends." 

STEEVENS. 

3  Their  pangs  of  love,  &c.]    Compare  this  part  of  Timon's 
speech  with  part  of  the  celebrated  soliloquy  in  Hamlet. 

STEEVENS. 

4  /  will  some  kindness  8fc.~]     i.e.  I  will  do  them  some 

kindness,  for  such,  elliptically  considered,  will  be  the  sense  of 
these  words,  independent  of  the  supplemental — do  Ihem,  which 
only  serves  to  derange  the  metre,  and  is,  I  think,  a  certain  in- 
terpolation.    STEEVENS. 

5  /  have  a  tree,  &c.]     Perhaps  Shakspeare  was  indebted  to 
Chaucer's  Wife  of  Bath's  Prologue,  for  this  thought.    He  might, 
however,  have  found  it  in  Painter's  Palace  of  Pleasure ,  Tom.  I. 
Nov.  28,  as  well  as  in  several  other  places.     STEEVENS. 

Our  author  was  indebted  for  this  thought  to  Plutarch's  Life  of 
Antony:  "  It  is  reported  of  him  also,  that  this  Timon  on  a  time, 


sc.  n.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  201 

That  mine  own  use  invites  me  to  cut  down, 
And  shortly  must  I  fell  it ;  Tell  my  friends, 
Tell  Athens,  in  the  sequence  of  degree,6 
From  high  to  low  throughout,  that  whoso  please 
To  stop  affliction,  let  him  take  his  haste, 
Come  hither,  ere  my  tree  hath  felt  the  axe, 
And  hang  himself: — I  pray  you,  do  my  greeting. 

FLAV,  Trouble  him  no  further,  thus  you  still  shall 
find  him. 

TIM.  Come  not  to  me  again  ;  but  say  to  Athens, 
Timon  hath  made  his  everlasting  mansion 
Upon  the  beached  verge  of  the  salt  flood ; 
Which  once  a  day7  with  his  embossed  froth8 

(the  people  being  assembled  in  the  market-place,  about  dispatch 
of  some  affaires,)  got  up  into  the  pulpit  for  orations,  where  the 
orators  commonly  use  to  speake  unto  the  people ;  and  silence 
being  made,  everie  man  listeneth  to  hear  what  he  would  say,  be- 
cause it  was  a  wonder  to  see  him  in  that  place,  at  length  he  began 
to  speak  in  this  manner  :  *  My  lordes  of  Athens,  I  have  a  little 
yard  in  my  house  where  there  groweth  a  figge  tree,  on  the  which 
many  citizens  have  hanged  themselves ;  and  because  I  meane  to 
make  some  building  upon  the  place,  I  thought  good  to  let  you 
all  understand  it,  that  before  the  figge  tree  be  cut  downe,  if  any 
of  you  be  desperate,  you  may  there  in  time  go  hang  yourselves." 

MALOXE. 

0  in  the  sequence  of  degree,'}  Methodically,  from  highest 

to  lowest.    JOHNSON. 

7  Which  once  a  day — ]  Old  copy — Who.     For  the  correction 
[txhom~\   I  am  answerable.     Whom  refers  to  Timon.     All  the 
modern  editors  (following  the  second  folio )  read —  Which  once&c. 

MALONE. 

Which,  in  the  second  folio,  (and  I  have  followed  it)  is  an  ap- 
parent correction  of —  Who.  Surely,  it  is  the  everlasting  mansion, 
or  the  beach  on  which  it  stands,  that  our  author  meant  to  cover 
with  the  foam,  and  not  the  corpse  of  Timon.  Thus  we  often 
say  that  the  grave  in  a  churchyard,  and  not  the  body  within,  it, 
is  trodden  down  by  cattle,  or  overgrown  with  weeds. 

STEEVENS. 

8  — -—  embossed  Jrotli — ]     When  a  deer  was  run  hard,  and 


202  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  v. 

The  turbulent  surge  shall  cover ;  thither  come, 
And  let  my  grave-stone  be  your  oracle. — 
Lips,  let  sour  words  go  by,  and  language  end : 
What  is  amiss,  plague  and  infection  mend  ! 
Graves  only  be  men's  works ;  and  death,  their  gain  ! 
Sun,  hide  thy  beams !  Timon  hath  done  his  reign. 

[Exit  TIMON. 

1  SEN.  His  discontents  are  imremoveably 
Coupled  to  nature. 

2  SEN.  Our  hope  in  him  is  dead :  let  us  return, 
And  strain  what  other  means  is  left  unto  us 

In  our  dear  peril.9 

2  SEN.  It  requires  swift  foot.  \_Exeunt. 


foamed  at  the  mouth,  he  was  said  to  be  embossed.  See  Vol.  IX. 
p.  16,  n.  9.  The  thought  is  from  Painter's  Palace  of  Pleasure, 
Tom.  I.  Nov.  28.  STEEVENS. 

Embossed  froth,  is  swollen  froth;  from  bosse,  Fr.  a  tumour. 
The  term  embossed,  when  applied  to  deer,  is  from  embocar,  Span. 
to  cast  out  of  the  mouth.  MALONE. 

9  In  our  dear  peril."]  So  the  folios  and  rightly.  The  Oxford 
editor  alters  dear  to  dread,  not  knowing  that  dear,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  that  time,  signified  dread,  and  is  so  used  by  Shakspeare 
in  numberless  places.  WARBURTON. 

Dear,  in  Shakspeare's  language,  is  dire,  dreadful.  So,  in 
Hamlet: 

"  Would  I  had  met  my  dearest  foe  in  heaven." 

MALONE. 

Dear  may,  in  the  present  instance,  signify  immediate,  or  im- 
minent. It  is  an  enforcing  epithet  with  not  always  a  distinct 
meaning.  To  enumerate  each  of  the  seemingly  various  senses 
in  which  if  may  be  supposed  to  have  been  used  by  our  author, 
would  at  once  fatigue  the  reader  and  myself. 

In  the  following  situations,  however,  it  cannot  signify  either 
dire  or  dreadful: 

"  Consort  with  me  in  loud  and  dear  petition." 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 


sc.  in.         TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  203 

SCENE  III. 

The  Walls  of  Athens. 
Enter  Two  Senators,  and  a  Messenger. 


y.  Thou  hast  painfully  discover'd  ;  are  his 

files 
As  full  as  thy  report  ? 

MESS.  I  have  spoke  the  least  : 

Besides,  his  expedition  promises 
Present  approach. 

2  SEN.  We  stand  much  hazard,  if  they  bring  not 
Tim  on. 

MESS.  I   met   a   courier,1   one   mine   ancient 

friend  ;  2  — 

Whom,  though  in  general  part  we  were  oppos'd, 
Yet  our  old  love  made  a  particular  force, 
And  made  us  speak  like  friends:3  —  this  man  was 


riding 


Some  dear  cause 


"  Will  in  concealment  wrap  me  up  a  while."     King  Lear. 

STEEVENS. 

1  a  courier,]  The  players  read — a  currier.     STEEVENS. 

*  one  mine  ancient  friend ;]     Mr.  Upton  would  read — 

once  mine  ancient  friend.     STEEVENS. 

3  Whom,  though  in  general  part  'we  were  oppos'd, 
Yet  our  old  love  made  a  particular  Jbrcc, 
And  made  us  speak  like  friends  :~]   Our  author,  hurried  away 
by  strong  conceptions,  and  little  attentive  to  minute  accuracy, 
takes  great  liberties  in  the  construction  of  sentences.     Here  he 
means,  Whom,  though  we  were  on  opposite  sides  in  the  publick 
cause,  yet  the  force  of  our  old  affection  wrought  so  much  upon, 


204  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACT  v, 

From  Alcibiades  to  Timon's  cave, 
With  letters  of  entreaty,  which  imported 
His  fellowship  i'the  cause  against  your  city, 
In  part  for  his  sake  mov'd. 

Enter  Senators  from  TIMON. 

1  SEN.  Here  come  our  brothers. 

3  SEN.  No  talk  of  Timon,  nothing  of  him  ex- 
pect.— 

The  enemies'  drum  is  heard,  and  fearful  scouring 
Doth  choke  the  air  with  dust :  In,  and  prepare  ; 
Ours  is  the  fall,  I  fear,  our  foes  the  snare. 

\_Exeunt. 

as  to  make  him  speak  to  me  as  a  friend.     See  Vol.  XVI.  p.  188, 
n.  5.     MALONE. 

I  am  fully  convinced  that  this  and  many  other  passages  of  our 
author  to  which  similar  remarks  are  annexed,  have  been  irre- 
trieveably  corrupted  by  transcribers  or  printers,  and  could  not 
have  proceeded,  in  their  present  state,  from  the  pen  of  Shak- 
speare ;  for  what  we  cannot  understand  in  the  closet,  must  have 
been  wholly  useless  on  the  stage. — The  awkward  repetition  of 
the  verb — made,  very  strongly  countenances  my  present  obser- 
vation. STKEVENS. 


sc.  n.          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  205 


SCENE  IV. 

The  Woods.     Timon's  Cave,  and  a  Tomb-stone 
seen. 

Enter  a  Soldier,  seeking  TIMON. 

SOLD.  By  all  description  this  should  be  the  place. 
Who's  here?  speak,  ho! — No  answer? — What  is 

this? 

Timon  is  dead,  who  hath  outstretch'd  his  span  : 
Some  beast  rear'd  this ;  there  does  not  live  a  man.4 


4  Some  least  rear'd  this;  there  does  not  live  a  man.']  [Old 
copy — read  this.]  Some  beast  read  what  ?  The  Soldier  had  yet 
only  seen  the  rude  pile  of  earth  heaped  up  for  Timon's  grave, 
and  not  the  inscription  upon  it.  We  should  read : 

Some  beast  rear'd  this; . 

The  Soldier  seeking,  by  order,  for  Timon,  sees  such  an  irregular 
mole,  as  he  concludes  must  have  been  the  workmanship  of  some 
beast  inhabiting  the  woods  ;  and  such  a  cavity  as  must  either  have 
been  so  over-arched,  or  happened  by  the  casual  falling  in  of  the 
ground.  WARBURTON. 

"  The  Soldier  (says  Theobald)  had  yet  only  seen  the  rude  pile 
of  earth  heaped  up  for  Timon's  grave,  and  not  the  inscription 
upon  it."  In  support  of  his  emendation,  which  was  suggested  to 
him  by  Dr.  Warburton,  he  quotes  these  lines  from  Fletcher's 
Cupid's  Revenge: 

"  Here  is  no  food,  nor  beds ;  nor  any  house 

"  Built  by  a  better  architect  than  beasts."     MALONE. 

Notwithstanding  this  remark,  I  believe  the  old  reading  to  be 
the  right.  The  soldier  had  only  seen  the  rude  heap  of  earth. 
He  had  evidently  seen  something  that  told  him  Timon  was  dead; 
and  what  could  tell  that  but  his  tomb  ?  The  tomb  he  sees,  and 
the  inscription  upon  it,  which  not  being  able  to  read,  and  find- 
ing none  to  read  it  for  him,  he  exclaims  peevishly,  some  beast 
read  this,  for  it  must  be  read,  and  in  this  place  it  cannot  be  read 
by  man. 


206  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  v. 

Dead,  sure  ;  and  this  his  grave. — 

What's  on  this  tomb  I  cannot  read  j  the  character 

There  is  something  elaborately  unskilful  in  the  contrivance  of 
sending  a  Soldier,  who  cannot  read,  to  take  the  epitaph  in  wax, 
only  that  it  may  close  the  play  by  being  read  with  more  so- 
lemnity in  the  last  scene.  JOHNSON. 

It  is  evident,  that  the  Soldier,  when  he  first  sees  the  heap  of 
earth,  does  not  know  it  to  be  a  tomb.  He  concludes  Timon 
must  be  dead,  because  he  receives  no  answer.  It  is  likewise 
evident,  that  when  he  utters  the  words  some  beast,  &c.  he  has 
not  seen  the  inscription.  And  Dr.  Warburton's  emendation  is 
therefore,  not  only  just  and  happy,  but  absolutely  necessary. 
What  can  this  heap  of  earth  be?  says  the  Soldier;  Timon  is  cer- 
tainly dead:  some  beast  must  have  erected  this,  for  here  does  not 
live  a  man  to  do  it.  Yes,  he  is  dead,  sure  enough,  and  this  must 
be  his  grave.  What  is  this  writing  upon  it  ?  RITSON. 

I  am  now  convinced  that  the  emendation  made  by  Mr.  Theo- 
bald is  right,  and  that  it  ought  to  be  admitted  into  the  text : — 
Some  beast  reard  this.  Our  poet  certainly  would  not  make  the 
Soldier  call  on  a  beast  to  read  the  inscription,  before  he  had  in- 
formed the  audience  that  he  could  not  read  it  himself;  which 
he  does  aftertxards. 

Besides ;  from  the  time  he  asks,  "  What  is  this  ?"  [i.  e.  what 
is  this  cave,  tomb,  &c.  not  what  is  this  inscription  ?~\  to  the 
words,  "  What's  on  this  tomb," — the  observation  evidently  re- 
lates to  Timon  himself,  and  his  grave ;  whereas,  by  the  erroneous 
reading  of  the  old  copy,  *'  Some  beast  read  this," — the  Soldier 
is  first  made  to  call  on  a  beast  to  read  the  inscription,  without 
assigning  any  reason  for  so  extraordinary  a  requisition ; — then  to 
talk  of  Timon's  death  and  of  his  grave ;  and,  at  last,  to  inform 
the  audience  that  he  cannot  read  the  inscription.  Let  me  add, 
that  a  beast  being  as  unable  to  read  as  the  Soldier,  it  would  be 
absurd  to  call  on  one  for  assistance ;  whilst  on  the  other  hand, 
if  a  den  or  cave,  or  any  rude  heap  of  earth  resembling  a  tomb, 
be  found  where  there  does  not  live  a  man,  it  is  manifest  that  it 
must  have  been  formed  by  a  beast. 

A  passage  in  King  Lear  also  adds  support  to  the  emendation  : 

« this  hard  house, 

"  More  hard  than  are  the  stones  whereof  'tis  rais'd." 

MALONE. 

The  foregoing  observations  are  acute  in  the  extreme,  and  I 
have  not  scrupled  to  adopt  the  reading  they  recommend. 

STJEEVENS. 


sc.  v.  TJMON  OF  ATHENS.  207 

I'll  take  with  wax : 

Our  captain  hath  in  every  figure  skill ; 

An  ag'd  interpreter,  though  young  in  days : 

Before  proud  Athens  he's  set  down  by  this, 

Whose  fall  the  mark  of  his  ambition  is. 


SCENE  V. 

Before  the  Walls  of  Athens* 
Trumpets  sound.     Enter  ALCIBIADES,  and  Forces. 

ALOIS.  Sound  to  this  coward  and  lascivious  town 
Our  terrible  approach.  [_A  Parley  sounded. 

Enter  Senators  on  the  Walls. 

Till  now  you  have  gone  on,  and  fill'd  the  time 
With  all  licentious  measure,  making  your  wills 
The  scope  of  justice ;  till  now,  myself,  and  such 
As  slept  within  the  shadow  of  your  power, 
Have   wandered   with   our   travers'd   arms,5  and 

breath'd 

Our  sufferance  vainly :  Now  the  time  is  flush,6 
When  crouching  marrow,  in  the  bearer  strong, 
Cries,  of  itself,  No  more:1  now  breathless  wrong 

*  travers'd  arms,]   Arms  across.     JOHNSON. 


The  same  image  occurs  in  The  Tempest: 

"  His  arms  in  this  sad  knot."     STEEVENS. 

6  the  time  is  flush,]  A  bird  is  flush  when  his  feathers  are 

grown,  and  he  can  leave  the  nest.     Flush  is  mature.     JOHNSON. 

7  When  crouching  marrow,  in  the  bearer  strong, 

Cries,  of  itself,  No  more :]     The  marrow  was  supposed  to 


20&  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.         ACT  v. 

Shall  sit  and  pant  in  your  great  chairs  of  ease ; 
And  pursy  insolence  shall  break  his  wind, 
With  fear,  and  horrid  flight. 

1  SEN.  Noble,  and  young, 
When  thy  first  griefs  were  but  a  mere  conceit, 
Ere  thou  hadst  power,  or  we  had  cause  of  fear, 
We  sent  to  thee  ;  to  give  thy  rages  balm, 

To  wipe  out  our  ingratitude  with  loves 
Above  their  quantity.8 

2  SEN.  So  did  we  woo 
Transformed  Timon  to  our  city's  love, 

By  humble  message,  and  by  promis'd  means  ;9 

be  the  original  of  strength.  The  image  is  from  a  camel  kneeling 
to  take  up  his  load,  who  rises  immediately  when  he  finds  he  has 
as  much  laid  on  as  he  can  bear.  WARBURTON. 

Pliny  says,  that  the  camel  will  not  carry  more  than  his  accus- 
tomed and  usual  load.  Holland's  translation,  B.  VIII.  c.  xviii. 

REED. 

The  image  may  as  justly  be  said  to  be  taken  from  a  porter  or 
coal-heaver,  who  when  there  is  as  much  laid  upon  his  shoulders 
as  he  can  bear,  will  certainly  cry,  no  more.  MALONE. 

I  wish  the  reader  may  not  find  himself  affected  in  the  same 
manner  by  our  commentaries,  and  often  concur  in  a  similar  ex- 
clamation. STEEVENS. 

8  Above  their  quantity.'}     Their  refers  to  rages. 

WARBURTON. 

Their  refers  to  griefs.  "  To  give  thy  rages  balm,"  must  be 
considered  as  parenthetical.  '  The  modern  editors  have  substi- 
tuted ingratitudes  for  ingratitude.  MALONE. 

9  So  did  lue  'woo 

Transformed  Timon  to  our  city's  love, 

By  humble  message^  and  by  promis'd  means;]  Promis'd 
means  must  import  the  recruiting  of  his  sunk  fortunes;  but  this 
is  not  all.  The  senate  had  wooed  him  with  humble  message,  and 
promise  of  general  reparation.  This  seems  included  in  the  slight 
change  which  I  have  made : 

and  by  promis'd  mends.     THEOBALD. 

Dr.  Warburton  agrees  with  Mr.  Theobald,  but  the  old  reading 
may  well  stand.  JOHNSON. 


ac.  r»          TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  209 

We  were  not  all  unkind,  nor  all  deserve 
The  common  stroke  of  war. 

1  SEN.  These  walls  of  ours 
Were  not  erected  by  their  hands,  from  whom 
You  have  received  your  griefs : l  nor  are  they  such, 
That  these  great  towers,    trophies,   and  schools 

should  fall 
For  private  faults  in  them.2 

2  SEN.  Nor  are  they  living, 
Who  were  the  motives  that  you  first  went  out  j3 
Shame,  that  they  wanted  cunning,  in  excess 
Hath  broke  their  hearts.4    March,  noble  lord, 


By  promisd  means,  is  by  promising  him  a  competent  subsist- 
ence. So,  in  King  Henry  I V.  P.  II :  "  Your  means  are  very 
slender,  and  your  waste  is  great."  MALONE. 

1  You  have  received  your  griefs  :]  The  old  copy  has — grief; 
but  as  the  Senator  in  his  preceding  speech  uses  the  plural,  grief 
was  probably  here  an  error  of  the  press.  The  correction  was 
made  by  Mr.  Theobald.  MALONE. 

*  For  private  faults  in  them.]     That  is,  in  the  persons  from 
whom  you  have  received  your  griefs.     MALONE. 

3 the  motives  that  you  first  'went  out ;~]  i.  e.  those  who 

made  the  motion  for  your  exile.  This  word  is  as  perversely  em- 
ployed in  Troilus  and  Cressida: 

« her  wanton  spirits  look  out 

"  At  every  joint  and  motive  of  her  body."     STEEVENS. 

*  Shame,  that  they  wanted  cunning,  in  excess 

Hath  broke  their  hearts.^  Shame  in  excess  (i.  e.  extremity 
of  shame)  that  they  wanted  cunning  (i.  e.  that  they  were  not 
wise  enough  not  to  banish  you)  hath  broke  their  hearts. 

THEOBALD. 

I  have  no  wish  to  disturb  the  manes  of  Theobald,  yet  think 
some  emendation  may  be  offered  that  will  make  the  construction 
less  harsh,  and  the  sentence  more  serious.     I  read : 
Shame  that  they  wanted,  coming  in  excess, 
Hath  broke  their  hearts. 

Shame  which  they  had  so  long  wanted,  at  last  coming  in  its  ut- 
most excess.  JOHNSON. 

VOL.  XIX.  P 


210  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  v. 

Into  our  city  with  thy  banners  spread  : 

By  decimation,  and  a  tithed  death, 

(If  thy  revenges  hunger  for  that  food, 

Which  nature  1  oaths,)  take  thou  the  destin'd  tenth; 

And  by  the  hazard  of  the  spotted  die, 

Let  die  the  spotted. 

1  SEN.  All  have  not  offended ; 
For  those  that  were,  it  is  not  square,5  to  take, 
On  those  that  are,  revenges  :6  crimes,  like  lands, 
Are  not  inherited.     Then,  dear  countryman, 
Bring  in  thy  ranks,  but  leave  without  thy  rage  : 
Spare  thy  Athenian  cradle,7  and  those  kin, 
Which,  in  the  bluster  of  thy  wrath,  must  fall 
With  those  that  have  offended :  like  a  shepherd, 
Approach  the  fold,  and  cull  the  infected  forth, 
But  kill  not  all  together.8 

2  SEN.  What  thou  wilt, 
Thou  rather  shalt  enforce  it  with  thy  smile, 
Than  hew  to't  with  thy  sword. 

1  SEN.  Set  but  thy  foot 

Against  our  rampir'd  gates,  and  they  shall  ope  ; 
So  thou  wilt  send  thy  gentle  heart  before, 
To  say,  thou'lt  enter  friendly. 

I  think  that  Theobald  has,  on  this  occasion,  the  advantage  of 
Johnson.  When  the  old  reading  is  clear  and  intelligible,  we 
should  not  have  recourse  to  correction. — Cunning  was  not,  in 
Shakspeare's  time,  confined  to  a  bad  sense,  but  was  used  to  ex- 
press knowledge  or  understanding.  M.  MASON. 

4 not  square,'}  Not  regular,  not  equitable.     JOHNSON. 

6 revenges :]     Old  copy — revenge.     Corrected  by  Mr. 

Steevens.     See  the  preceding  speech.     MALONE. 

? thy  Athenian  cradle,]     Thus  Ovid,  Met.  VIII.  99 : 

" Jovis  incunabula  Crete."     STEEVENS. 

9  But  kill  not  all  together.]  The  old  copy  reads — altogether. 
Mr.  M.  Mason  suggested  the  correction  I  have  made. 

STEEVENS. 


sc.  v.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  211 

2  SEN.  Throw  thy  glove, 

Or  any  token  of  thine  honour  else, 
That  thou  wilt  use  the  wars  as  thy  redress, 
And  not  as  our  confusion,  all  thy  powers 
Shall  make  their  harbour  in  our  town,  till  we 
Have  seal'd  thy  full  desire. 

ALCIB.  Then  there's  my  glove  ; 

Descend,  and  open  your  uncharged  ports  ;* 
Those  enemies  of  Timon's,  and  mine  own, 
Whom  you  yourselves  shall  set  out  for  reproof, 
Fall,  and  no  more  :  and, — to  atone  your  fears 
With  my  more  noble  meaning,1 — not  a  man 
Shall  pass  his  quarter,2  or  offend  the  stream 
Of  regular  justice  in  your  city's  bounds, 
But  shall  be  remedied,3  to  your  publick  laws 
At  heaviest  answer. 


l} uncharged  ports;"]  That  is,  unguarded  gates. 

JOHNSON, 

So,  in  King  Henry  IF.  Part  II : 

"  That  keep'st  the  ports  of  slumber  open  wide." 

STEEVENS. 

Uncharged  means  unattached,  not  unguarded.     M.  MASON. 

Mr.  M.  Mason  is  right.     So,  in  Shakspeare's  70th  Sonnet : 
"  Thou  hast  pass'd  by  the  ambush  of  young  days, 
"  Either  not  assail'd,  or  victor,  being  charged" 

MALONE. 


to  atone  your  fears 


With  my  more  noble  meaning,']  i.  e.  to  reconcile  them  to  it. 
So,  in  Cymbeline :  "  I  was  glad  I  did  atone  my  countryman  and 
vou."  STEEVENS. 


•  not  a  man 


Shall  pass  his  quarter,"]  Not  a  soldier  shall  quit  his  station, 
or  be  let  loose  upon  you ;  and,  if  any  commits  violence,  he  shall 
answer  it  regularly  to  the  law.  JOHNSON. 

3  But  shall  he  remedied,]  The  construction  is,  But  he  shall 
be  remedied ;  but  Shakspeare  means,  that  his  offence  shall  be 
remedied,  the  word  offence  being  included  in  offend  in  a  former 
line.  The  editor  of  the  second  folio,  for  to,  in  the  last  line  but 

P  2 


212  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  ACTV. 

BOTH.  JTis  most  nobly  spoken. 

ALOIS.  Descend,  and  keep  your  words.4 

The  Senators  descend,  and  open  the  Gates* 
Enter  a  Soldier. 

SOLD.  My  noble  general,  Timon  is  dead  j 
Entomb' d  upon  the  very  hem  o'the  sea : 
And,  on  his  grave-stone,  this  insculpture ;  which 
With  wax  I  brought  away,  whose  soft  impression 
Interprets  for  my  poor  ignorance.5 

ALOIS.  [Reads.]  Here  lies  a  wretched  corse,  of 

'wretched  soul  bereft  : 

Seek  not  my  name  :  A  plague  consume  you  wicked 
caitiffs  left!6 

ULf  \J 

Here  lie  I  Timon;  who,  alive,  all  living  men  did 

hate  : 
Pass  by,  and  curse  thy  Jill;  but  pass,  and  stay  not 

here  thy  gait. 

one  of  this  speech,  substituted  by,  which  all  the  subsequent  edi- 
tors adopted.    MAI.ONE. 

I  profess  my  inability  to  extract  any  determinate  sense  from 
these  words  as  they  stand,  and  rather  suppose  the  reading  in  the 
second  folio  to  be  the  true  one.  To  be  remedied  by,  affords  a 
glimpse  of  meaning :  to  be  remedied  to,  is  "  the  blanket  of  the 
dark."  STEEVENS. 

4  Descend,  and  keep  your  'words.']  Old  copy — Defend.  Cor- 
rected by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.  MALONE. 

4 for  my  poor  ignorance, .]  Poor  is  here  used  as  a  dis- 
syllable, as  door  is  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice.  MALONE. 

6 caitiff's  left!'}     This  epitaph  is  found  in  Sir  T.  North's 

translation  of  Plutarch,  with  the  difference  of  one  word  only, 
viz.  wretches  instead  of  caitiff's.     STEEVENS. 

This  epitaph  is  formed  out  of  two  distinct  epitaphs  which 
Shakspeare  found  in  Plutarch.  The  first  couplet  is  said  by  Plu- 


sc.  v.  TIMON  OF  ATHENS. 

These  well  express  in  thee  thy  latter  spirits : 
Though  thou  abhorr'dst  in  us  our  human  griefs, 
Scorn'dst  our  brain's  flow,7  and  those  our  droplets 

which 

From  niggard  nature  fall,  yet  rich  conceit 
Taught  thee  to  make  vast  Neptune  weep  for  aye 
On  thy  low  grave,  on  faults  forgiven.8     Dead 


tarch  to  have  been  composed  by  Timon  himself  as  his  epitaph; 
the  second  to  have  been  written  by  the  poet  Callimachus. 

Perhaps  the  slight  variation  mentioned  by  Mr.  Steevens,  arose 
from  our  author's  having  another  epitaph  before  him,  which  is 
found  in  Kendal's  Flowers  of  Epigrammes,  1577,  and  in  Pain- 
ter's Palace  of  Pleasure,  Vol.  I.  Nov.  28 : 

"  TIiMON    HIS    EPITAPHE. 

"  My  wretched  caitiffe  daies  expired  now  and  past, 
"  My  carren  corps  enterred  here,  is  graspt  in  ground, 
"  In  weltring  waves  of  swelling  seas  by  sourges  caste ; 
"  My  name  if  thou  desire,  the  gods  thee  doe  confound!" 

MALONE. 

7 our  brain's  Jloiv,"]  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  and  Dr.  War- 
burton  read, — brines  flow.  Our  brain's  jiow  is  our  tears;  but 
we  may  read,  our  brine's  Jloiv,  our  salt  tears.  Either  will  serve. 

JOHNSON. 

Our  brain's  jloiu  is  right.     So,  in  Sir  Giles  Goosecap,  1606: 

"  I  shed  not  the  tears  of  my  brain." 
Again,  in  The  Miracles  of  Moses,  by  Drayton  : 

"  But  he  from  rocks  that  fountains  can  command, 
"  Cannot  yet  stay  the  fountains  of  his  brain.'' 

STEEVENS. 

8 on  faults  forgiven."]     Alcibiades's  whole  speech  is  in 

breaks,  betwixt  his  reflections  on  Timon's  death,  and  his 
addresses  to  the  Athenian  Senators  :  and  as  soon  as  he  has  com- 
mented on  the  place  of  Timon's  grave,  he  bids  the  Senate  set 
forward  ;  tells  'em,  he  has  forgiven  their  faults ;  and  promises  to 
use  them  with  mercy.  THEOBALD. 

I  suspect  that  we  ought  to  read : 

One  fault's  forgiven. — Dead 


Is  noble  Timon:  &c. 


214  T1MON  OF  ATHENS.          ACT  r. 

Is  noble  Timon  ;  of  whose  memory 
Hereafter  more. — Bring  me  into  your  city, 
And  I  will  use  the  olive  with  my  sword : 
Make  war  breed  peace ;  make  peace  stint  war ; 9 

make  each 

Prescribe  to  other,  as  each  other's  leech.1 — 
Let  our  drums  strike.  [Exeunt? 


One  fault  (viz.  the  ingratitude  of  the  Athenians  to  Timon)  is 
forgiven,  i.  e.  exempted  from  punishment  by  the  death  of  the 
injured  person.  TYRWHITT. 

The  old  reading  and  punctuation  appear  to  me  sufficiently  in- 
telligible. Mr.  Theobald  asks,  "  why  should  Neptune  weep  over 
Timon's  faults,  or  indeed  what  fault  had  he  committed  ?"  The 
faults  that  Timon  committed,  were,  1.  that  boundless  prodigality 
which  his  Steward  so  forcibly  describes  and  laments  ;  and  2.  his 
becoming  a  Misanthrope,  and  abjuring  the  society  of  all  men  for 
the  crimes  of  a  few. — Theobald  supposes  that  Alcibiades  bids  the 
Senate  set  forward,  assuring  them  at  the  same  time  that  he  for- 
gives the  wrongs  they  have  done  him.  On: — Faults  forgiven. 
But  how  unlikely  is  it,  that  he  should  desert  the  subject  imme- 
diately before  him,  and  enter  upon  another  quite  different  sub- 
ject, in  these  three  words;  and  then  return  to  Timon  again?  to  say 
nothing  of  the  strangeness  of  the  phrase— -faults  forgiven,  for 
"  faults  are  forgiven."  MALONE. 

9 stint  tvarj~]     i.  e.  stop   it.     So,   in   Spenser's  Fairy 

Queen  : 

" 'gan  the  cunning  thief 

"  Persuade  us  die,  to  stint  all  further  strife." 

STEEVENS. 

1 leech."]  i.  e.  physician.     So,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen; 

"  Her  words  prevail'd,  and  then  the  learned  leech 

'*  His  cunning  hand  'gan  to  his  wounds  to  lay ." 

STEEVENS. 

9  The  play  of  Timon  is  a  domestick  tragedy,  and  therefore 
strongly  fastens  on  the  attention  of  the  reader.  In  the  plan  there 
is  not  much  art,  but  the  incidents  are  natural,  and  the  characters 
various  and  exact.  The  catastrophe  affords  a  very  powerful 
warning  against  that  ostentatious  liberality,  which  scatters 
bounty,  but  confers  no  benefits,  and  buys  flattery,  but  not 
friendship. 


TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  21.5 

In  this  tragedy,  are  many  passages  perplexed,  obscure,  and 
probably  corrupt,  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  rectify,  or  ex- 
plain with  due  diligence ;  but  having  only  one  copy,  cannot  pro- 
mise myself  that  my  endeavours  shall  be  much  applauded. 

JOHNSON. 

This  play  was  altered  by  Shadwell,  and  brought  upon  the 
stage  in  1678.  In  the  modest  title-page  he  calls  it  Timon  of 
Athens,  or  the  Man-hater,  as  it  is  acted  at  the  Duke's  Theatre, 
made  into  a  Play.  SXEEVENS. 


OTHELLO. 


*  OTHELLO.]  The  story  is  taken  from  Cynthia's  Novels. 

POPE. 

I  have  not  hitherto  met  with  any  translation  of  this  novel  (the 
seventh  in  the  third  decad)  of  so  early  a  date  as  the  age  of  Shak- 
speare ;  but  undoubtedly  many  of  those  little  pamphlets  have 
perished  between  his  time  and  ours. 

It  is  highly  probable  that  our  author  met  with  the  name  of 
Othello  in  some  tale  that  has  escaped  our  researches ;  as  I  like- 
wise find  it  in  Reynolds's  God's  Revenge  against  Adultery,  stand- 
ing in  one  of  his  Arguments  as  follows :  "  She  marries  Othello, 
an  old  German  soldier."  This  History  (the  eighth)  is  professed 
to  be  an  Italian  one.  Here  also  occurs  fbe  name  of  lago. 

It  is  likewise  found,  as  Dr.  Farmer  observes,  in  "  The  History 
of  the  famous  Euordanus  Prince  of  Denmark,  with  the  strange 
Adventures  of  I  AGO  Prince  of  Saxonie;  bl.  1.4-to.  London,  1605." 

It  may  indeed  be  urged  that  these  names  were  adopted  from 
the  tragedy  before  us :  but  I  trust  that  every  reader  who  is  con- 
versant with  .the  peculiar  style  and  method  in  which  the  work 
of  honest  John  Reynolds  is  composed,  will  acquit  him  of  the 
slightest  familiarity  with  the  scenes  of  Shakspeare. 

This  play  was  first  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  Oct.  6,  1621, 
by  Thomas  Walkely.  STEEVENS. 

I  have  seen  a  French  translation  of  Cynthio,  by  Gabriel 
Chappuys,  Par.  1.584.  This  is  not  a  faithful  one ;  and  I  suspect, 
through  this  medium  the  work  came  into  English.  FARMER. 

This  tragedy  I  have  ascribed  (but  on  no  very  sure  ground)  to 
the  year  1611.  See  An  Attempt  to  ascertain  the  Order  oj"  Shak- 
speare s  Plays,  Vol.  II.  MALONE. 

The  time  of  this  play  may  be  ascertained  from  the  following 
circumstances :  Selymus  the  Second  formed  his  design  against 
Cyprus  in  1569,  and  took  it  in  1571.  This  was  the  only  attempt 
the  Turks  ever  made  upon  that  island  after  it  came  into  the 
hands  of  the  Venetians,  (which  was  in  the  year  1473,)  where- 
fore the  time  must  fall  in  with  some  part  of  that  interval.  We 
learn  from  the  play  that  there  was  a  junction  of  the  Turkish  fleetf 
at  Rhodes,  in  order  for  the  invasion  of  Cyprus,  that  it  first  came 
sailing  towards  Cyprus,  then  went  to  Rhodes,  there  met  another 
squadron,  and  then  resumed  its  way  to  Cyprus.  These  are  real 
historical  facts  which  happened  when  Mustapha,  Selymus's  ge- 
neral, attacked  Cyprus  in  May,  1570,  which  therefore  is  the 
true  period  of  this  performance.  See  Knolles's  History  of  the 
Turks,  p.  838,  846,  867.  REED. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 

Duke  of  Venice. 

Brabantio,  a  Senator. 

Two  other  Senators. 

Gratiano,  Brother  to  Brabantio. 

Lodovico,  Kinsman  to  Brabantio. 

Othello,  the  Moor: 

Cassio,  his  Lieutenant; 

lago,  his  Ancient: 

Roderigo,  a  Venetian  Gentleman. 

Montano,  Othello's  Predecessor  in  the  Government 

of  Cyprus.1 

Clown,  Servant  to  Othello. 
Herald. 

Desdemona,  Daughter  to  Brabantio,  and  Wife  to 

Othello. 

Emilia,  Wife  to  lago. 
Bianca,  a  Courtezan,  Mistress  to  Cassio. 

Officers,  Gentletnen,  Messengers,  Musicians,  Sailors, 
Attendants,  fyc. 

SCENE,  for  the  Jirst  Act,  in  Venice ;  during  the 
rest  of  the  Play,  at  a  Sea-Port  in  Cyprus. 

1  Though  the  rank  which  Montano  held  in  Cyprus  cannot 
be  exactly  ascertained,  yet  from  many  circumstances,  we  are 
sure  he  had  not  the  powers  with  which  Othello  was  subsequently 
invested. 

Perhaps  we  do  not  receive  any  one  of  the  Personce  Dramatis 
to  Shakspeare's  plays,  as  it  was  originally  drawn  up  by  himself. 
These  appendages  are  wanting  to  all  the  quartos,  and  are  very 
rarely  given  in  the  folio.  At  the  end  of  this  play,  however,  the 
following  enumeration  of  persons  occurs : 

"  The  names  of  the  actors. — Othello,  the  Moore. — Brabantio, 
Father  to  Desdemona. — Cassio,  an  Honourable  Lieutenant. — lago, 
a  Villaine. — Rodorigo,  a  gull'd  Gentleman. — Duke  of  Venice. 
— Senators. — Montano,  Governour  of  Cyprus. — Gentlemen  of 
Cyprus. — Lodovico,  and  Gratiano,  two  noble  Venetians. — 
Saylors — Cloivnc. — Desdemona,  Wife  to  Othello. — ^Emilia,  Wife 
to  lago. — Bianca,  a  Curtezan."  STEEVENS. 


OTHELLO, 
THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE, 


ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 

Venice.    A  Street. 
Enter  RODERIGO  and  IAGO. 

ROD.  Tush,  never  tell  me,2  I  take  it  much  un- 
kindly, 

That  thou,  lago, — who  hast  had  my  purse, 
As  if  the  strings  were  thine, — should' st  know  of 
this. 

IAGO.  'Sblood,  but  you  will  not  hear  me  :3 — 
If  ever  I  did  dream  of  such  a  matter, 
Abhor  me. 

ROD.  Thou  told'st  me,  thou  didst  hold  him  in 
thy  hate. 

IAGO.  Despise  me,  if  I  do  not.     Three  great 

ones  of  the  city, 
In  personal  suit  to  make  me  his  lieutenant, 

8  Tush,  never  tell  me,~\     Thus  the  quarto,  1622.     The  folio 
omits  the  interjection — Tush.     STEEVENS. 

3  'Sblood,  but  you  will  not  &c.]     Thus  the  quarto:  the  folio 
suppresses  this  oath.     STEEVENS. 


222  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

Oft  capp'd  to  him  ;4 — and,  by  the  faith  of  man, 

I  know  my  price,  I  am  worth  no  worse  a  place : 

But  he,  as  loving  his  own  pride  and  purposes, 

Evades  them,  with  a  bombast  circumstance,5 

Horribly  stuff' d  with  epithets  of  war ; 

And,  in  conclusion,  nonsuits 

My  mediators ;  for,  certes,6  says  he, 

/  have  already  chose  my  officer. 

And  what  was  he  ? 

Forsooth,  a  great  arithmetician,7 

4  Oft  cappd  to  him;"}  Thus  the  quarto.  The  folio  reads, — 
O^capp'd  to  him.  STEEVENS. 

In  support  of  the  folio,  Antony  and  Cleopatra  may  be  quoted: 

"  I  have  ever  held  my  cap  off"  to  thy  fortunes.'* 
This  reading  I  once  thought  to  be  the  true  one.     But  a  more 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  quarto  copies  has  convinced  me  that 
they  ought  not  without  very  strong  reason  to  be  departed  from. 

MALONE. 

-  To  cap  is  to  salute  by  taking  off  the  cap.     It  is  still  an  aca- 
demick  phrase.     M.  MASON. 

4 a  bombast  circumstance,]  Circumstance  signifies  cir- 
cumlocution. So,  in  Greene's  Tu  Quoque: 

"  You  put  us  to  a  needless  labour,  sir, 
"  To  run  and  wind  about  for  circumstance, 
"  When  the  plain  word,  I  thank  you,  would  have  serv'd." 
Again,  in  Massinger's  Picture: 

"  And  therefore,  without  circumstance,  to  the  point, 
"  Instruct  me  what  I  am." 

Again,  in  Knolles's  History  of  the  Turks,  p.  576  :  "  —  where- 
fore I  will  not  use  many  words  to  persuade  you  to  continue  in 
your  fidelity  and  loyalty ;  neither  long  circumstance  to  encourage 
you  to  play  the  men."  REED. 

6 certes,']  i.  e.  certainly,  in  truth.  Obsolete.  So,  Spenser, 

in  The  Fairy  Queen,  Book  IV.  c.  ix : 

"  Certes,  her  losse  ought  me  to  sorrow  most." 

STEEVENS. 

7  Forsooth,  a  great  arithmetician,]  So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
Mercutio  says :  "  — one  that  fights  by  the  book  of  arithmetick" 

STEEVENS. 

lago,  however,  means  to  represent  Cassio,  not  as  a  person 


sc.  r.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          225 

One  Michael  Cassio,  a  Florentine,8 

A  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  wife ;' 

whose  arithmetick  was  "  one,  two,  and  the  third  in  your  bosom," 
but  as  a  man  merely  conversant  with  civil  matters,  and  who 
knew  no  more  of  a  squadron  than  the  number  of  men  it  con- 
tained. So  afterwards  he  calls  him  this  counter-caster, 

MALONE. 

• a  Florentine,]    It  appears  from  many  passages  of  this 

play  (rightly  understood)  that  Cassio  was  a  Florentine,  andlago 
a  Venetian.  HANMER. 

9  Afellova  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  ix>lfe;~].  Sir  Thomas  Han* 
mer  supposed  that  the  text  must  be  corrupt,  because  it  appears 
from  a  following  part  of  the  play  that  Cassio  was  an  unmarried 
man.  Mr.  Steevens  has  clearly  explained  the  words  in  a  subse- 
quent note :  I  have  therefore  no  doubt  that  the  text  is  right ; 
and  have  not  thougr.it  it  necessary  to  insert  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  note, 
in  which  he  proposed  to  read — "  a  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair 
life"  Shakspeare,  he  conceived,  might  allude  to  the  judgment 
denounced  in  the  gospel  against  those  of  whom  all  men  speak 
well.  MALONE. 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  conjecture  is  ingenious,  but  cannot  be  right ; 
for  the  malicious  lago  would  never  have  given  Cassio  the  highest 
commendation  that  words  can  convey,  at  the  very  time  that  he 
wishes  to  depreciate  him  to  Roderigo ;  though  afterwards,  in 
speaking  to  himself,  [Act  V.  sc.  i.]  he  gives  him  his  just 
character.  M.  MASON. 

That  Cassio  was  married  is  not  sufficiently  implied  in  the 
words,  a  jelloiv  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  wife,  since  they  mean, 
according  to  lago's  licentious  manner  of  expressing  himself,  no 
more  than  a  man  very  near  being  married.  This  seems  to  have 
been  the  case  in  respect  of  Cassio. — Act  IV.  sc.  i,  lago  speaking 
to  him  of  Bianca,  says, —  Why,  the  cry  goes,  that  you  shall 
marry  her.  Cassio  acknowledges  that  such  a  report  had  been 
raised,  and  adds,  This  is  the  monkey's  own  giving  out :  she  is 
persuaded  I  will  marry  her,  out  of  her  own  love  and  self jlatteryt 
not  out  of  my  promise.  lago  then,  having  heard  this  report  be- 
fore, very  naturally  circulates  it  in  his  present  conversation  with 
Roderigo.  If  Shakspeare,  however,  designed  Bianca  for  a  cour- 
tezan of  Cyprus,  (where  Cassio  had  not  yet  been,  and  had 
therefore  never  seen  her, )  lago  cannot  be  supposed  to  allude  to 
the  report  concerning  his  marriage  with  her,  and  consequently 
this  part  of  my  argument  must  fall  to  the  ground. 

Had  Shakspeare,  consistently  with  lago's  character,  meant  to 


224  OTHELLO,  ACTI< 

That  never  set  a  squadron  in  the  field, 


make  him  say  that  Cassio  was  actually  damri'd  in  being  married 
to  a  handsome  woman,  he  would  have  made  him  say  it  outright, 
and  not  have  interposed  the  palliative  almost.  Whereas  what  he 
says  at  present  amounts  to  no  more  than  that  (however  near  his 
marriage )  he  is  not  yet  completely  damned,  because  he  is  not  ab- 
solutely married.  The  succeeding  parts  of  lago's  conversation 
sufficiently  evince,  that  the  poet  thought  no  mode  of  conception 
or  expression  too  brutal  for  the  character.  STEEVENS. 

There  is  no  ground  whatsoever  for  supposing  that  Shakspeare 
designed  Bianca  for  a  courtezan  of  Cyprus.  Cassio,  who  was  a 
Florentine,  and  Othello's  lieutenant,  sailed  from  Venice  in  a  ship 
belonging  to  Verona,  at  the  same  time  with  the  Moor;  and 
what  difficulty  is  there  in  supposing  that  Bianca,  who,  Cassio 
himself  informs  us,  "  haunted  him  every  where,"  took  her  pas- 
sage in  the  same  vessel  with  him  ;  or  followed  him  afterwards  ? 
Othello,  we  may  suppose,  with  some  of  the  Venetian  troops, 
sailed  in  another  vessel ;  and  Desdemona  and  lago  embarked  in 
a  third. 

lago,  after  he  has  been  at  Cyprus  but  one  day,  speaks  of 
Bianca,  (Act  IV.  sc.  i.)  as  one  whom  he  had  long  known:  he 
must  therefore  (if  the  poet  be  there  correct)  have  known  her  at 
Venice: 

"  Now  will  I  question  Cassio  of  Bianca, 

"  A  husivife,  that,  by  selling  her  desires, 

"  Buys  herself  bread  and  clothes:  it  is  a  creature, 

"  Thai  dotes  on  Cassio; — as  'tis  the  strumpet's  plague, 

"  To  beguile  many,  and  be  beguil'd  by  one." 

MALONE. 

Ingenious  as  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  conjecture  may  appear,  it  but  ill 
accords  with  the  context.  lago  is  enumerating  the  disqualifica- 
tions of  Cassio  for  his  new  appointment ;  but  surely  his  being 
uell  spoken  of  by  all  men  could  not  be  one  of  them.  It  is  evi- 
dent from  what  follows  that  a  report  had  prevailed  at  Venice  of 
Cassio's  being  soon  to  be  married  "  to  the  most  fair  Bianca.'* 
Now  as  she  was  in  Shakspeare's  language  "  a  customer,"  it  was 
with  a  view  to  such  a  connection  that  lago  called  the  new  Lieu- 
tenant a  fellow  almost  damned.  It  may  be  gathered  from  various 
circumstances  that  an  intercourse  between  Cassio  and  Bianca  had 
existed  before  they  left  Venice  ;  for  Bianca  is  not  only  well  known 
to  lago  at  Cyprus,  but  she  upbraids  Cassio  (Act  III.  sc.  iv.)  with 
having  been  absent  a  week  from  her,  when  he  had  not  been  two 
days  on  the  island.  Hence,  and  from  what  Cassio  himself  re- 


sc.  I.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          225 
Nor  the  division  of  a  battle  knows 


lates,  (Act  IV.  sc.  i.)  I  voas  the  other  day  talking  on  the  SEA- 
BANK  WITH  CERTAIN  VENETIANS,  and  THITHER  COMCS  the 

bauble  ;  by  this  hand,  she  falls  thus  about  my  neck  ; — it  may  be 
presumed  she  had  secretly  followed  him  to  Cyprus ;  a  conclu- 
sion not  only  necessary  to  explain  the  passage  in  question,  but 
to  preserve  the  consistency  of  the  fable  at  large. — The  sea-bank 
on  which  Cassio  was  conversing  with  certain  Venetians,  was  at 
Venice ;  for  he  bad  never  till  the  day  before  been  at  Cyprus  :  he 
specifies  those  with  whom  he  conversed  as  Venetians,  because  he 
was  himself  a  Florentine ;  and  he  mentions  the  behaviour  of 
Bianca  in  their  presence,  as  tending  to  corroborate  the  report 
she  had  spread  that  he  was  soon  to  marry  her.  HENLEY. 

I  think,  as  I  have  already  mentioned,  that  Bianca  was  a  Ve- 
netian courtezan  :  but  the  sea-bank  of  which  Cassio  speaks,  may 
have  been  the  shore  of  Cyprus.  In  several  other  instances  be- 
side this,  our  poet  appears  not  to  have  recollected  that  the  per- 
sons of  his  play  had  only  been  one  day  at  Cyprus.  I  am  aware, 
however,  that  this  circumstance  may  be  urged  with  equal  force 
against  the  concluding  part  of  my  own  preceding  note  ;  and  the 
term  sea-bank  certainly  adds  support  to  what  Mr.  Henley  has 
suggested,  being  the  very  term  used  by  Lewkcnor,  in  his  account 
of  the  Lito  mnggior  of  Venice.  See  p.  24-2,  n.  8.  MALONE. 

Thus  far  our  commentaries  on  this  obscure  passage  are  ar- 
ranged as  they  stand  in  the  very  succinct  edition  of  Mr.  Malone. 
Yet  I  cannot  prevail  on  myself,  in  further  imitation  of  him,  to 
suppress  the  note  of  my  late  friend  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  a  note  that 
seems  to  be  treated  with  civilities  that  degrade  its  value,  and 
with  a  neglect  that  few  of  its  author's  opinions  have  deserved. 
My  inability  to  offer  such  a  defence  of  his  present  one,  as  he 
himself  could  undoubtedly  have  supplied,  is  no  reason  why  it 
should  be  prevented  from  exerting  its  own  proper  influence  on 
the  reader.  STEEVENS. 

The  poet  has  used  the  same  mode  of  expression  in  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,  Act  I.  sc.  i : 

O  my  Antonio,  I  do  know  of  those 
Who  therefore  only  are  reputed  wise, 
For  saying  nothing;  who,  I'm  very  sure, 
If  they  should  speak,  would  almost  damn  those  ears, 
Which,  hearing  them,  would  call  their  brothers  fools." 
And  there  the  allusion  is  evident  to  the  gospel-judgment  against 

VOL.  xix.  Q 


226  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

More  than  a  spinster;  unless  the  bookish  theorick,1 

those,  who  call  their  brothers  fools.  I  am  therefore  inclined  to 
believe,  that  the  true  reading  here  is : 

A  fellffw  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  life  ; 

and  that  Shakspeare  alludes  to  the  judgment  denounced  in  the 
gospel  against  those  of  whom  all  men  speak  well. 

The  character  of  Cassio  is  certainly  such,  as  would  be  very 
likely  to  draw  upon  him  all  the  peril  of  this  denunciation, 
literally  understood.  Well-bred,  easy,  sociable,  good  natured ; 
with  abilities  enough  to  make  him  agreeable  and  useful,  but  not 
sufficient  to  excite  the  envy  of  his  equals,  or  to  alarm  the  jea- 
lousy of  his  superiors.  It  may  be  observed  too,  that  Shakspeare 
has  thought  it  proper  to  make  lago,  in  several  other  passages, 
bear  his  testimony  to  the  amiable  qualities  of  his  rival.  In 
Act  V.  sc.  i.  he  speaks  thus  of  him : 

" if  Cassio  do  remain, 

"  He  hath  a  daily  beauty  in  his  life, 
"  That  makes  me  ugly." 

I  will  only  add,  that,  however  hard  or  far-fetched  this  allusion 
(whether  Shakspeare's  or  only  mine)  may  seem  to  be,  Arch- 
bishop Sheldon  had  exactly  the  same  conceit,  when  he  made 
that  singular  compliment,  as  the  writer  calls  it,  [Biograph.  Bri- 
tan.  Art.  TEMPLE,]  to  a  nephew  of  Sir  William  Temple,  that 
"  he  had  the  curse  of  the  gospel,  because  all  men  spoke  well  of 
him."  TYRWHITT. 

That  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  has  given  us  Shakspeare's  genuine  word 
and  meaning  I  have  not  the  least  doubt.  Bianca  is  evidently 
a  courtezan  of  Cyprus,  and  Cassio,  of  course,  not  yet  acquainted' 
with  her.  But  even  admitting  that  she  might  have  followed  him 
thither,  and  got  comfortably  settled  in  a  "  house,"  still,  I  think, 
the  improbability  of  his  having  any  intention  to  marry  her  is  too 
gross  for  consideration.  What !  the  gallant  Cassio,  the  friend 
and  favourite  of  his  general,  to  marry  a  "  customer,"  a  "  fit- 
chew," a  "  huswife  who  by  selling  her  desires  buys  herself 
bread  and  clothes  !"  lago,  indeed,  pretends  that  she  had  given 
out  such  a  report,  but  it  is  merely  with  a  view  to  make  Cassio 
laugh  the  louder.  There  can  be  no  reason  for  his  practising 
any  similar  imposition  upon  Roderigo.  RITSOX. 

1  theorick,']    Theorick,  for  theory.     So,  in  The  Proceed* 

ings  against  Garnet  on  the  Powder- Plot:  " — as  much  deceived 
in  the  theoricke  of  trust,  as  the  lay  disciples  were  in  the  prac- 
ticke  of  conspiracie."  STEEVENS. 

This  was  the  common  language  of  Shakspeare's  time.  Sec 
Vol.  VIII.  p.  354,  n.  7.  MALONE, 


sc.  t.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          227 

Wherein  the  toged  consuls9  can  propose 
As  masterly  as  he  :  mere  prattle,  without  practice,3 
Is  all  his  soldiership.   But  he,  sir,  had  the  election: 
And  I, — of  whom  his  eyes  had  seen  the  proof, 
At  Rhodes,  at  Cyprus ;  and  on  other  grounds 
Christian   and   heathen, — must  be  be-lee'd  and 
calm'd4 

s  Wherein  the  toged  consuls — ]    Consuls,  for  counsellors. 

WARBURTON. 

Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads,  council.  Mr.  Theobald  would 
have  us  read,  counsellors.  Venice  was  originally  governed  by 
consuls :  and  consuls  seems  to  have  been  commonly  used  for 
counsellors,  as  afterwards  in  this  play.  In  Albion's  Triumph,  a 
Masque,  1631,  the  Emperor  Albanact  is  said  to  be  "  attended  by 
fourteen  consuls."  Again  :  "  — the  habits  of  the  consuls  were 
after  the  same  manner."  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  and  Matthew- 
Paris  after  him,  call  both  dukes  and  earls,  consuls.  STEEVENS. 

The  rulers  of  the  state,  or  civil  governours.  The  word  is  used 
by  Marlowe,  in  the  same  sense,  in  Tamburlaine,  a  tragedy, 
1590: 

"  Both  we  will  raigne  as  consuls  of  the  earth." 

MALONE. 

By  toged  perhaps  is  meant  peaceable,  in  opposition  to  the  war- 
like qualifications  of  which  he  had  been  speaking.  He  might 
have  formed  the  word  in  allusion  to  the  Latin  adage, — Cedant 
arma  togce.  STEEVENS. 

3  More  than  a  spinster ;  unless  the  bookish  theorick, 
Wherein  the  toged  consuls  can  propose 

As  masterly  as  he:  mere  prattle,  without  practice,']  This 
play  has  many  redundant  lines,  like  the  first  and  third  of  the 
foregoing.  I  cannot  help  regarding  the  words  distinguished  by 
the  Roman  character,  as  interpolations.  In  the  opening  scene 
of  Kins;  Henry  V.  Shakspeare  thought  it  unnecessary  to  join 
an  epithet  to  theorick ;  and  if  the  monosyllables — as  he,  were 
omitted,  would  lago's  meaning  halt  for  want  of  them  ? 

STEEVENS. 

4  must  be  be-lee'd  and  calm'd — ]     The  old  quarto — led. 

The  first  folio  reads,  be-lee'd:  but  that  spoils  the  measure.     I 
read,  let,  hindered.     WARBURTON. 

Be-lee'd  suits  to  calm'd,  and  the  measure  is  not  less  perfect 
than  in  many  other  places.  JOHNSON. 

Q  2 


'228  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

By  debitor3  and  creditor,  this  counter-caster;6 

Be-lec'd  and  be-calm'd  are  terms  of  navigation. 

I  have  been  informed  that  one  vessel  is  said  to  be  in  the  lee  of 
another,  when  it  is  so  placed  that  the  wind  is  intercepted  from 
it.  lago's  meaning  therefore  is,  that  Cassio  had  got  the  wind  of 
him,  and  be-calm'd  him  from  going  on. 

To  be-calrn  (as  I  learn  from  Falconer's  Marine  Dictionary,') 
is  likewise  to  obstruct  the  current  of  the  wind  in  its  passage  to 
a  ship,  by  any  contiguous  object.  STEEVENS. 

The  quarto,  1622,  reads  : 

must  be  led  and  calm'd — . 

I  suspect  therefore  that  Shakspeare  wrote — must  be  lee'd  and 
cahn'd.  The  fee-side  of  a  ship  is  that  on  which  the  wind  blows. 
To  lee,  or  to  be  lee'd,  may  mean,  to  fall  to  leeward,  or  to  lose 
the  advantage  of  the  wind. 

The  reading  of  the  text  is  that  of  the  folio.  I  doubt  whether 
there  be  any  such  sea-phrase  as  to  be-lce;  and  suspect  the  word 
be  was  inadvertently  repeated  by  the  compositor  of  the  folio. 

Mr.  Steevens  has  explained  the  word  be-calm'd,  but  where  is 
it  found  in  the  text  ?  MALONE. 

•  Mr.  Malone  is  unfortunate  in  his  present  explanation.  The 
lee-side  of  a  ship  is  directly  contrary  to  that  on  which  the  wind 
blows,  if  I  may  believe  a  skilful  navigator  whom  I  have  con- 
sulted on  this  occasion. 

Mr.  Malone  asks  where  the  word  bc-calmd  is  to  be  found  in 
the  text.  To  this  question  I  must  reply  by  another.  Is  it  not 
evident,  that  the  prefix — be  is  to  be  continued  from  the  former 
naval  phrase  to  the  latter  ?  Shakspeare  would  have  written  be- 
calm'd  as  well  as  be-lce'd,  but  that  the  close  of  his  verse  would 
not  admit  of  a  dissyllable. — Should  we  say  that  a  ship  was  lee'd, 
or  calm'd,  we  should  employ  a  phrase  unacknowledged  by  sailors. 

STEEVENS. 

*  By  debitor — ]   All  the  modern  editors  read — By  debtor;  but 
debitor  (the  reading  of  the  old  copies)  was  the  word  used  in 
Shakspeare's  time.     So,  in  Sir  John  Davies's  Epigrams,  1598: 
"  There  stands  the  constable,  there  stands  the  whore, — 
"  There  by  the  Serjeant  stands  the  debitor.'" 
St:e  also  the  passage  quoted  from  Cymbclinc,  n.  6.    MALONE. 

this  counter-caster ;]    It  was  anciently  the  practice  to 

reckon  up  sums  with  counter--;.  To  this  Shakspeare  alludes  again 
in  L'ymbeiinc,  Act  V:  "  — it  sums  up  thousands  in  a  trice:  you 
have  no  true  debitor  and  creditor,  but  it;  of  what's  past,  is, 
and  to  come,  the  discharge.  Your  neck,  sir,  is  pen,  book,  and 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          229 

He,  in  good  time,  must  his  lieutenant  be, 
And  I,  (God  bless  the  mark  !7)  his  Moor-ship's8 
ancient. 

ROD.  By  heaven,  I  rather  would  have  been  his 
hangman. 

IAGO.  But  there's  no  remedy,  'tis  the  curse  of 

service ; 

Preferment  goes  by  letter,9  and  affection, 
Not  by  the  old  gradation,1  where  each  second 
Stood  heir  to  the  first.     Now,  sir,  be  judge  your- 
self, 


counters;"  &c.     Again,  in  Acolastus,  a  comedy,  1540:  "  I  wyl 
cast  my  counters,  or  with  counters  make  all  my  reckenynges." 

STEEVENS. 

So,   in   The   Winter's  Tale:   " — fifteen  hundred  shorn,— 
What  comes  the  wool  to  ? — I  cannot  do't  without  counters." 

MALONE. 

7  bless  the  mark !~]     Kelly,  in  his  comments  on  Scots 

proverbs,  observes,  that  the  Scots,  when  they  compare  person 
to  person,  use  this  exclamation. 

I  find,  however,  this  phrase  in  Churchyard's  Tragical  Dis- 
fourse  of  a  dolorous  Gentlewoman,  &c.  1593: 

"  Not  beauty  here  I  claime  by  this  my  talke, 

"  For  browne  and  blacke  I  was,  God  blesse  the  marke  ! 

"  Who  calls  me  fair  dooth  scarce  know  cheese  from 

chalke : 

"  For  I  was  form'd  when  winter  nights  was  darke, 

"  And  nature's  workes  tooke  light  at  little  sparke ; 

"  For  kinde  in  scorne  had  made  a  moulde  of  jette, 

"  That  shone  like  cole,  wherein  my  face  was  set." 

It  is  singular  that  both  Churchyard  and  Shakspeare  should 

have  used  this  form  of  words  with  reference  to  a  black  person. 

STEEVENS. 

8  his  Moorship's — ]     The  first  quarto  reads — his  wor- 
ship's.    STEEVENS. 

9  by  letter, ,]  By  recommendation  from  powerful  friends. 

JOHNSON. 

1  Not  by  the  old  gradation,"}     Old  gradation,  is  gradation 
established  by  ancient  practice.     JOHNSON. 


230  OTHELLO,  ACT  i, 

Whether  I  in  any  just  term  am  affin'd2 
To  love  the  Moor. 

ROD.  I  would  not  follow  him  then. 

IAGO.  O,  sir,  content  you ; 
I  follow  him  to  serve  my  turn  upon  him : 
We  cannot  all  be  masters,  nor  all  masters 
Cannot  be  truly  foilow'd.     You  shall  mark 
Many  a  duteous  and  knee-crooking  knave, 
That,  doting  on  his  own  obsequious  bondage, 
Wears  out  his  time,  much  like  his  master's  ass, 
For  nought  but  provender ;  and,  when  he's  old, 

cashier'd  ;3 

Whip  me  such  honest  knaves  :4  Others  there  are, 
Who,  trimm'd  in  forms  and  visages  of  duty, 
Keep  yet  their  hearts  attending  on  themselves  ; 
And,  throwing  but  shows  of  service  on  their  lords, 
Do  well  thrive  by  them,  and,  when  they  have  lin'd 

their  coats, 
Do  themselves  homage :  these  fellows  have  some 

soul ; 

And  such  a  one  do  I  profess  myself. 
For,  sir,5 

5  Whether  I  in  any  just  term  am  affin'd — ~]  Affined  is  the 
reading  of  the  third  quarto  and  the  first  folio.  The  second  quar- 
to and  all  the  modern  editions  have  assigned.  The  meaning  is, 
— Do  I  stand  within  any  such  terms  of  propinquity,  or  relation 
to  the  Moor,  as  that  it  is  my  duty  to  love  him  ?  JOHNSON. 

The  original  quarto,  1622,  has  assigned,  but  it  was  manifestly 
an  error  of  the  press.  MALONE. 

3  For  nought  but  provender ;  and,  tvfien  he's  old,  cashier'd  ;"] 
Surely,  this  line  was  originally  shorter.  We  might  safely  read — 

For  nought  but  provender;  ivhen  old,  cashier'd. 

STEEVENS. 

4  . honest  knaves  :]    Knave  is  here  for  servant,  but  with  a 

sly  mixture  of  contempt.     JOHNSON. 

5  For,  sir,']    These  words,  which  are  found  in  all  the  ancient 
copies,  are  omitted  by  Mr.  Pope,  and  most  of  our  modern  edi- 
tors.    STEEVENS. 


sc.  /.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          231 

It  is  as  sure  as  you  are  Roderigo, 

Were  I  the  Moor,  I  would  not  be  lago : 

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  compliment  extern,6  'tis  not  long  after 

But  I  will  wear  my  heart  upon  my  sleeve 

For  daws  to  peck  at:7  I  am  not  what  I  am. 

ROD.    What  a  full  fortune  does  the  thick-lips 
owe,8 

6  In  compliment  extern,]  In  that  which  I  do  only  for  an  out- 
ward show  of  civility.  JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Sir  W.  D'Avenant's  Albovine,  1629: 

" that  in  sight  extern 

"  A  patriarch  seems."     STEEVENS. 

"  For  daws  #c.]     The  first  quarto  reads, — For  doves — . 

STEEVENS. 

I  have  adhered  to  the  original  copy,  because  I  suspect  Shak- 
speare  had  in  his  thoughts  a  passage  in  Lyly's  Euphues  and  his 
England,  1580:  "  As  all  coynes  are  not  good  that  have  the 
image  of  Caesar,  nor  all  gold  that  is  coyned  with  the  kings 
stampe,  so  all  is  not  truth  that  beareth  the  shew  of  godlinesse, 
nor  all  friends  that  beare  a  faire  face.  If  thou  pretend  such 
love  to  Euphues,  carry  thy  heart  on  the  backe  of  thy  hand,  and 
thy  to-ague  in  thy  palme,  that  I  may  see  what  is  in  thy  minde, 
and  thou  with  thy  finger  claspe  thy  mouth. — I  can  better  take  a 
blister  of  a  nettle,  than  a  pricke  of  a  rose ;  more  willing  that  a 
raven  should  peck  out  mine  eyes,  than  a  turtle  peck  at  them." 

MALONE. 

I  read  with  the  folio.  lago  certainly  means  to  say,  he  would 
expose  his  heart  as  a  prey  to  the  most  worthless  of  birds,  i.  e. 
daws,  which  are  treated  with  universal  contempt.  Our  author 
would  scarcely  have  degraded  the  amiable  tribe  of  doves  to  such 
an  office  ;  nor  is  the  mention  of  them  at  all  suitable  to  the  harsh 
turn  of  lago's  speech.  STEEVENS. 

8  What  a  full  fortune  does  the  thick-lips  owe,]  Full  fortune 
is,  I  believe,  a  complete  piece  of  good  fortune,  as  in  another 


232  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

If  he  can  carry5!  thus ! 

IAGO.  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. 

IAGO.  Do ;  with  like  timorous  accent,  and  dire 

yell, 

As  when,  by  night  and  negligence,  the  fire 
Is  spied  in  populous  cities.9 

scene  of  this  play  a,  full  soldier  is  put  for  a  complete  soldier. 
So,  in  Cymbeline: 

"  Our  pleasure  his  full  fortune  doth  confine." 
Again,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  fourth  Book  of  Homer's 
Odyssey ,  we  have — 

"  Jove  did  not  only  \\isjulljhte  adorn, 
"  When  he  was  wedded." 
To  owe,  is  in  ancient  language,  to  own,  to  possess. 

STEEVENS. 

So,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 

" not  the  imperious  show 

"  Ofthefullfortun'd  Caesar—." 
Full  is  used  by  Chaucer  in  the  same  sense  in  his  Troilus,  B.  L: 

"  Suffice  th  this,  my  full  friend  Pandare, 

"  That  I  have  said— ." 
See  also  Vol.  XVII.  p.  189,  n.  3.     MALONE. 

9  As  when,  by  nig/it  and  negligence,  the  fire 

Is  spied  in  populous  cities."]  The  particle  is  used  equivocally: 
the  same  liberty  is  taken  by  writers  more  correct : 

"  The  wonderful  creature  !  a  woman  of  reason  ! 

"  Never  grave  out  oj  pride,  never  gay  out  oj  season." 

JOHNSON. 

By  night  and  negligence  means,  during  the  time  of  night  and 
negligence.     M.  MASON. 

The  meaning,  as  Mr.  Edwards  has  observed,  is,  "  not  that  the 
fire  was  spied  by  negligence,  but  the  fire,  which  came  by  night 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          253 

ROD.  What  ho !   Brabantio !   signior  Brabantio, 
ho! 

IAGO.  Awake  !  what,  ho !   Brabantio !  thieves ! 

thieves !  thieves ! 

Look  to  your  house,  your  daughter,  and  your  bags ! 
Thieves !  thieves ! 

BRABANTIO,  above,  at  a  Window. 

BRA.  What  is  the  reason  of  this  terrible  sum- 
mons ? 
What  is  the  matter  there  ? 

ROD.  Signior,  is  all  your  family  within  ? 

IAGO.  Are  your  doors  lock'd?1 

BRA.  Why  ?  wherefore  ask  you  this  ? 

IAGO.  'Zounds,  sir,  you  are  robb'd  j  for  shame, 

put  on  your  gown  ; 

Your  heart  is  burst,2  you  have  lost  half  your  soul ; 
Even  now,  very  now,  an  old  black  ram 
Is  tupping  your  white  ewe.3     Arise,  arise  ; 

and  negligence,  was  spied.  And  this  double  meaning  to  the 
same  word  is  common  to  Shakspeare  with  all  other  writers, 
especially  where  the  word  is  so  familiar  a  one,  as  this  is  in 
question.  Ovid  seems  even  to  have  thought  it  a  beauty  instead 
of  a  defect."  MALONE. 

1  Are  your  doors  lock'd?~]   The  first  quarto  reads — 

Are  all  doors  lock'd?     STEEVENS. 

2  is  burst,  3  i.  e.  broken.     Burst  for  broke  is  used  in  our 

author's  King   Henry  IV.  P.  II:  " — and  then  he  burst  his 
head  for  crouding  among  the  marshal's  men."     See  Vol.  XII. 
p.  152,  n.  5.     STEEVENS. 

See  also  Vol.  IX.  p.  13,  n.  5 ;  and  p.  126,  n.  6.     MALONE. 

3  tupping  your  "white  eive."]   In  the  north  of  England  a 

ram  is  called  a  tup.     MALONE. 

I  had  made  the  same  observation  in  the  third  Act  of  this  play, 
scene  iii.     STEEVENS. 


234  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

Awake  the  snorting  citizens  with  the  bell, 

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  worse  welcome  : 

I  have  charg'd  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,4 
Upon  malicious  bravery,  dost  thou  come 
To  start  my  quiet. 

ROD.  Sir,  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. 

BRA.  What  tell'st  thou  me  of  robbing  ?  this  is 

Venice ; 
My  house  is  not  a  grange.5 

your  white  ewe.]   It  appears  from  a  passage  in  Decker's 

O  per  se  O,  4to.  1612,  that  this  was  a  term  in  the  cant  language 
used  by  vagabonds :  "  As  the  men  haue  nicke-names,  so  like- 
wise haue  the  women :  for  some  of  them  are  called  the  ivhite 
eme,  the  lambe,"  &c.  STEEVENS. 

*  distempering   draughts,']      To   be   distempered   with 

liquor,  was,  in  Shakspeare's  age,  the  phrase  for  intoxication.  In 
Hamlet  the  King  is  said  to  be  "  marvellous  distempered  with 
wine."  MALONE. 

See  Vol.  XII.  p.  334,  n.  6.     STEEVENS. 

4  this  is  Venice; 

My  house  is  not  a  grange.]   That  is,  "  you  are  in  a  populous 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          235 

ROD.  Most  grave  Brabantio, 

In  simple  and  pure  soul  I  come  to  you. 

IAGO.  'Zounds,  sir,  you  are  one  of  those,  that 
will  not  serve  God,  if  the  devil  bid  you.  Because 
we  come  to  do  you  service,  you  think  we  are  ruf- 
fians :  You'll  have  your  daughter  covered  with  a 
Barbary  horse  ;  you'll  have  your  nephews  neigh  to 
you : 6  you'll  have  coursers  for  cousins,  and  gennets 
for  germans.7 

city,  not  in  a  lone  house,  where  a  robbery  might  easily  be  com- 
mitted." Grange  is  strictly  and  properly  the  farm  of  a  monastery, 
where  the  religious  reposited  their  corn.  Grangia,  Lat.  from 
Granum.  But  in  Lincolnshire,  and  in  other  northern  counties, 
they  call  every  lone  house,  or  farm  which  stands  solitary,  a 
grange.  T.  WARTON. 

So,  in  T.  Hey  wood's  English  Traveller,  1633 : 

" to  absent  himself  from  home, 

"  And  make  his  father's  house  but  as  a  grange  ?"  &c. 
Again,  in  Daniel's  Complaint  of  Rosamond,  1599: 

" soon  was  I  train'd  from  court 

"  To  a  solitary  grange,"  &c. 

Again,  in  Measure  for  Measure:  "  —  at  the  moated  grange  re- 
sides this  dejected  Mariana."  STEEVENS. 

0  your  nephews  neigh  to  you:~\   Nephew,  in  this  instance, 

has  the  power  of  the  Latin  word  nepos,  and  signifies  a  grandson, 
or  any  lineal  descendant,  however  remote.     So,  A.  of  Wyntown, 
in  his  Cronykil,  B.  VIII.  ch.  iii.  v.  119: 
"  Hyr  swne  may  be  cald  newu: 
"  This  is  of  that  word  the  wertu." 
Thus,  also,  in  Spenser: 

"  And  all  the  sons  of  these  five  brethren  reign'd 
"  By  due  success,  and  all  their  nephews  late, 
"  Even  thrice  eleven  descents  the  crown  obtain'd." 
Again,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  Odyssey,  B.  XXIV.  Laertes 
says  of  Telemachus  his  grandson: 

" to  behold  my  son 

"  And  nephew  close  in  such  contention." 
Sir  W.  Dugdale  very  often  employs  the  word  in  this  sense ; 
and  without  it,  it  would  not  be  very  easy  to  show  how  Brabantio 
could  have  nephews  by  the  marriage  of  his  daughter.     Ben  Jon- 


236  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

BRA.  What  profane  wretch  art  thou  ?s 

I  AGO.  I  am  one,  sir,  that  comes  to  tell  you,  your 

daughter  and  the  Moor  are  now  making  the  beast 

with  two  backs.9 

BRA.  Thou  art  a  villain. 

IAGO.  You  are — a  senator. 

son  likewise  uses  it  with  the  same  meaning.     The  alliteration  in 
this  passage  caused  Shakspeare  to  have  recourse  to  it. 

STEEVENS. 

See  Vol.  XIV.  p.  426,  n.  1.     MALONE. 

7  gennets^/or  germans.']     A  jennet  is  a  Spanish  horse. 

So,  in  Heywood's  Rape  qfLucrece,  1630: 

" there  stays  within  my  tent 

"  A  winged  jennet."     STEEVENS. 

6  What  profane  wretch  art  thou?~\  That  is,  what  wretch  of 
gross  and  licentious  language?  In  that  sense  Shakspeare  often 
uses  the  word  profane.  JOHNSON. 

It  is  so  used  by  other  writers  of  the  same  age : 

"  How  far  off  dwells  the  house-surgeon? 

" You  are  a  profane  fellow,  i'faith." 

Again,  in  Ben  Jonson's  Tale  of  a  Tub: 

"  By  the  sly  justice,  and  his  clerk  profane" 
James  Hovvell,  in  a  dialogue  prefixed  to  his  edition  of  Cot- 
grave's  Dictionary,  in  1673,  has  the  following  sentence: 
"  J'aimerois  mieux  estre  trop  ceremonieux,  que  trop prophane :" 
which  he  thus  also  anglicises — "  1  had  rather  be  too  ceremonious, 
than  too  prophane ."  STEEVENS. 

9  your  daughter  and  the  Moor  are  now  making  the  beast 

with  two  ba^ks.]  This  is  an  ancient  proverbial  expression  in  the 
French  language,  whence  Shakspeare  probably  borrowed  it ;  for 
in  the  Dictionaire  dcs  Proverbes  Francoises,  par  G.  D.  B.  Brus- 
selles,  1710,  li'mo.  I  find  the  following  article:  "  Faire  la  bete 
a  deux  dos,  pour  dire,  faire  1'amour."  PERCY. 

In  the  Dictionaire  Comique,  par  le  Roux,  1750,  this  phrase  is 
more  particularly  explained  under  the  article  Bete:  "  Faire  la 
bete  a  deux  dos. — Maniere  de  parler  qui  signifie  etre  couche  avec 
une  femme ;  faire  le  deduit." — "  Et  faisoient  tous  deux  souvent 
ensemble  la  bete  a  deux  dos  joyeusement."  Rabelais,  Liv.  I. 
There  was  a  translation  of  Rabelais  published  in  the  time  of 
Shakspeare.  MALONE. 


sc.  i.          THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.        237 

BRA.  This  thou  shalt  answer ;  I  know  thee,  Ro- 
derigo. 

ROD.  Sir,  I  will  answer  any  thing.  But  I  beseech 

you, 

[If't  be  your  pleasure,1  and  most  wise  cons'ent, 
(As  partly,  I  find,  it  is,)  that  your  fair  daughter, 
At  this  odd-even  and  dull  watch  o'the  night,2 
Transported — with  no  worse  nor  better  guard, 
But  with  a  knave  of  common  hire,  a  gondolier, — 
To  the  gross  clasps  of  a  lascivious  Moor, — 

1  [_If't  be  your  pleasure,  &c.]    The  lines  printed  in  crotchets 
are  not  in  the  first  edition,  but  in  the  folio  of  1623.     JOHNSON. 

2  At  this  odd-even  and  dull  watch  o'the  night, ~\     The  even  of 
night  is  midnight,  the  time  when  night  is  divided  into  even  parts. 

JOHNSON. 

Odd  is  here  ambiguously  used,  as  it  signifies  strange,  uncouth, 
or  unwonted;  and  as  it  is  opposed  to  even. 

But  this  expression,  however  explained,  is  very  harsh. 

STEEVENS. 

This  ODD  EVEN  is  simply  the  interval  between  twelve  at  night 
and  one  in  the  morning.  HENLEY. 

By  this  singular  expression, — "  this  odd-even  of  the  night," 
our  poet  appears  to  have  meant,  that  it  was  just  approaching  to, 
or  just  past,  that  it  was  doubtful  whether  at  that  moment  it  stood 
at  the  point  of  midnight,  or  at  some  other  less  equal  division  of 
the  twenty-four  hours ;  which  a  few  minutes  either  before  or 
after  midnight  would  be. 

So,  in  Macbeth  : 

" What  is  the  night  ? 

"  Lady  M.  Almost  at  odds  ivith  morning,  which  is  'which" 

Shakspeare  was  probably  thinking  of  his  boyish  school-play, 
odd  or  even,  MALONE. 

Surely,  "  almost  at  odds  with  morning"  signifies,  almost  en- 
tering into  conflict  with  it.  Thus,  in  Timon  of  Athens: 

"  'Tis  honour,  with  most  lands  to  be  at  odds, — ." 
In  King  Henry  VI.  P.  III.  we  find  an  idea  similar  to  that  in 
Macbeth  : 

" like  the  morning  s  war, 

"  When  dying  clouds  contend  with  growing  light." 

STEEVENS. 


238  OTHELLO, 

If  this  be  known  to  you,  and  your  allowance,3 

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,4 

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, 

In  an  extravagant5  and  wheeling  stranger,6 

Of  here  and  everywhere:  Straight  satisfyyourselfij 

If  she  be  in  her  chamber,  or  your  house, 

Let  loose  on  me  the  justice  of  the  state 

•  and your  allowance,]  i.  e.  done  with  your  approbation t 


See  Vol.  XV.  p.  321,  n.  4  ;  and  Vol.  XVII.  p.  435,  n.  6. 

MALONE. 

4  That,  from  the  sense  of  all  civility,']  That  is,  in  opposition 
to,  or  departing  from,  the  sense  of  all  civility.  So,  in  Twelfth- 
Night: 

"  But  this  is  from  my  commission — ." 
Again,  in  The  Mayor  of  Qiiinborough,  by  Middleton,  1661 : 

"  But  this  is  from  my  business."     MALONE. 

6  In  an  extravagant — ]  Extravagant  is  here  used  in  its  Latin 
signification,  for  "wandering.  Thus,  in  Hamlet:  "  The  extra- 
vagant, and  erring  spirit, — ."  STEEVENS. 

6  Tying  her  duty,  beauty,  loit,  and  J or  tunes, 

In  an  extravagant  and  "wheeling  stranger, ~\  Thus  the  old 
copies,  for  which  the  modern  editors,  following  Mr.  Pope,  have 
substituted — To  an  extravagant  &c.  In  King  Lear,  we  find — 
"  And  hold  our  lives  in  mercy ;"  (not  at  mercy ;)  in  The  Win- 
ter's Tale — "  he  was  torn  to  pieces  with  a  bear,"  not  "  by  a 
bear;"  and  in  Hamlet: 

"  To  let  this  canker  of  our  nature  come 
"  In  further  evil." 

So,  in  the  next  scene,  we  have  " in  your  part,"  not 

" on  your  part."     We  might  substitute  modern  for  ancient 

phraseology  in  all  these  passages  with  as  much  propriety  as  in  the 
present.     We  yet  say,  "  she  is  vwapp'd  up  in  him." 

MALONE. 


sc.  I.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          239 

For  thus  deluding  you.7 

BRA.  Strike  on  the  tinder,  ho ! 

Give  me  a  taper ; — call  up  all  my  people  : — 
This  accident  is  not  unlike  my  dream, 
Belief  of  it  oppresses  me  already : — 
Light,  I  say !  light !  \_Exit^jrQm  above. 

I  AGO.  Farewell ;  for  I  must  leave  you : 

It  seems  not  meet,  nor  wholesome  to  my  place, 
To  be  produc'd8  (as,  if  I  stay,  I  shall,) 
Against  the  Moor :  For,  I  do  know,  the  state, — • 
However  this  may  gall  him  with  some  check,9 — 
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, 
Another  of  his  fathom  they  have  not, 
To  lead  their  business  :  in  which  regard, 
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  Sagittary2  the  rais'd  search  ; 
And  there  will  I  be  with  him.     So,  farewell. 

[Exit. 


7  For  thus  deluding  you.]     The  first  quarto  reads, — For  this 

delusion.     STEEVENS. 

*  To  be  produc'd — ]     The  folio  reads, — -producted. 

STEEVEN'S. 

9  some  check,]     Some  rebuke.     JOHNSON. 

1  cast  him;~\     That  is,   dismiss  him;  reject  him.     We 

still  say,  a  cast  coat,  and  a  cast  serving-man.     JOHNSON. 

the  Sagittary — ]     Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto,  1622r 

reads, — the  Sagiitctr — .    I  have  chosen  the  undipped  reading. 

STEEVENS- 


240  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

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,3 
Is  nought  but  bitterness. — Now,  Roderigo, 
Where  didst  thou  see  her  ? — O,  unhappy  girl ! — 
With  the  Moor,  say'st  thou  ? — Who  would  be  a 

father  ?-. 
How  didst  thou  know  'twas  she  ? — O,  thou  de- 

ceiv'st  me 
Past  thought  !4 — What  said  she  to  you  ? — Get  more 

tapers ; 
Raise  all  my  kindred. — Are  they  married, think  you? 

ROD.  Truly,  I  think,  they  are. 

BRA.  O  heaven  ! — How  got  she  out ! — O  treason 
of  the  blood ! — 


3  And  ivhat's  to  come  of  my  despised  time,~]     Despised  time,  is 
time  of  no  value;  time  in  which — 

There's  nothing  serious  in  mortality. 

The  wine  of  life  is  drawn,  and  the  mere  dregs 

Are  left  this  vault  to  brag  of."     Macbeth.     JOHNSON. 


Again 


in  Romeo  and  Juliet: 


•  expire  the  term 


Of  a  despised  life  clos'd  in  my  breast." 
As  the  quotation  in  the  preceding  note  belongs  to  our  steady 
moralist,  Dr.  Johnson,  it  could  not  have  been  more  uncharacter- 
istically vitiated,  than  by  the  compositor,  in  Mr.  Mai  one's  edi- 
tion, where  it  appears  thus  : 

"  There's  nothing  serious  in  morality"     STEEVENS. 

4  0,  thou  deceiv'st  me 

Past  thought  /]     Thus  the  quarto,  1622.     The  folio,  1623, 
and  the  quartos,  1630  and  1655,  read: 
O,  she  deceives  me 


Past  thought  /- 


I  have  chosen  the  apostrophe  to  his  absent  daughter,  as  the 
most  spirited  of  the  two  readings.     STEEVENS 


sc.t.         THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          241 

Fathers,  from  hence  trust  notyour  daughters'  minds 
By  what  you  see  them  act. — Are  there  not  charms,5 
By  which  the  property  of  youth  and  maidhood 
May  be  abus'd?6  Have  you  not  read,  Roderigo, 
Of  some  such  thing  ? 

HOD.  Yes,  sir ;  I  have  indeed. 

BRA.  Call  up  my  brother. — O,  that  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.7  At  every  house  I'll  call; 
I  may  command  at  most; — Get  weapons,  ho! 
And  raise  some  special  officers  of  night.8 — 
On,  good  Roderigo; — I'll  deserve  your  pains. 

[Exeunt. 

5 Are  there  not  charms,']     Thus  the  second  folio.    The 

first,  and  the  quarto,  ungrammatically  read, — Is  there  not  &c. 
Mr.  Malone  follows  the  oldest  copies,  and  observes  that  the 
words — Is  there  not  charms,  &c.  mean — Is  there  not  such  a 
Iking  as  charms  ?  STEEVENS. 

6  I$y  ixliich  the  'property  of  youth  and  maidhood 

May  be  abus'd  ?]  By  which  the  faculties  of  a  young  virgin 
may  be  infatuated,  and  made  subject  to  illusions  and  false  ima- 
gination : 

" wicked  dreams  abuse 

"  The  curtain'd  sleep."     Macbeth.     JOHNSON. 

and  maidhood — ]     The  quartos  read — and  manhood — . 

STEEVENS. 

7  Pray  you,  lead  on.~|     The  first  quarto  reads, — Pray  lead  me 
on.     STEEVENS. 

8 o/"night.]     Thus  the  original  quarto,  1622;  for  which 

the  editor  of  the  folio  substituted — officers  of  might ;  a  reading 
which  all  the  modern  editors  have  adopted.     I  have  more  than 
once  had  occasion  to  remark  that  the  quarto  readings  were 
VOL.  XIX.  n 


242  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

SCENE  II. 

The  same.     Another  Street. 
Enter  OTHELLO,  IAGO,  and  Attendants. 


IAGO.    Though  in  the  trade  of  war  I  have  slain 
men, 


sometimes  changed  by  the  editor  of  the  folio,  from  ignorance  of 
our  poet's  phraseology  or  meaning. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  Shakspeare,  before  he  wrote  this  play, 
read  The*  Commonwealth  and  Government  of  Venice,  translated 
from  the  Italian  by  Lewes  Lewkenor,  and  printed  in  quarto, 
1599;  a  book  prefixed  to  which  we  find  a  copy  of  verses  by 
Spenser.  This  treatise  furnished  our  poet  with  the  knowledge 
of  those  officers  of  night,  whom  Brabantio  here  desires  to  be 
called  to  his  assistance. 

"  For  the  greater  expedition  thereof,  of  these  kinds  of  judge- 
ments, the  heades  or  chieftaines  of  the  officers  by  night  do  ob- 
taine  the  authority  of  which  the  advocators  are  deprived.  These 
officers  of  the  night  are  six,  and  six  likewise  are  those  meane  of- 
ficers, that  have  only  power  to  correct  base  vagabonds  and  tri- 
fling offences. 

"  Those  that  do  execute  this  ofiice  are  called  heades  of  the 
tribes  of  the  city,  because  out  of  every  tribe,  (for  the  city  is  di- 
vided into  six  tribes,)  there  is  elected  an  officer  of  the  night,  and 
a  head  of  the  tribe. — The  duty  of  eyther  of  these  officers  is,  to 
keepe  a  watch  every  other  night  by  turn,  within  their  tribes ; 
and,  now  the  one,  and  then  the  other,  to  make  rounds  about  his 
quarter,  till  the  dawning  of  the  day,  being  always  guarded  and 
attended  on  with  weaponed  officers  and  Serjeants,  and  to  see  that 
there  be  not  any  disorder  done  in  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
which  alwaies  emboldeneth  men  to  naughtinesse  ;  and  that  there 
be  not  any  houses  broken  up,  nor  theeves  nor  rogues  lurking  in 
corners  with  intent  to  do  violence."  Commonwealth  of  Venice, 
pp.  97,  99.  MALONE. 

It  has  been  observed  by  Mr.  Malone,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
(See  Act  V.  sc.  iii.  Vol.  XX.)  that  there  is  no  watch  in 
Italy.  How  does  that  assertion  quadrate  with  the  foregoing 
account  of"  officers  of  ike  night?"  STKKVF.XS. 


5C-.  //.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          243 

Yet  do  I  hold  it  very  stuff  o'the  conscience,9 
To  do  no  contriv'd  murder ;  I  lack  iniquity 
Sometimes,  to  do  me  service :  Nine  or  ten  times 
I  had  thought  to  have  yerk'd  him  here  under  the 
ribs. 

OTH.  'Tis  better  as  it  is. 

I  AGO.  Nay,  but  he  prated,  * 

And  spoke  such  scurvy  and  provoking  terms 
Against  your  honour, 
That,  with  the  little  godliness  I  have, 
I  did  full  hard  forbear  him.     But,  I  pray,  sir, 
Are  you  fast  married  ?  for,  be  sure  of  this, — 
That  the  magnifico2  is  much  beloved ; 
And  hath,  in  his  effect,  a  voice  potential 
As  double  as  the  duke's j3  he  will  divorce  you ; 


9 stuff o' the  conscience,]     This  expression  to  common 

readers  appears  harsh.  Stitff  of  the  conscience  is,  substance  or 
essence  of  the  conscience.  Stujfis  a  word  of  great  force  in  the 
Teutonick  languages.  The  elements  are  called  in  Dutch, 
Hoe/cl stoffen,  or  head  stuffs.  JOHNSON. 

Again,  in  King  Henry  Fill: 

"  You're  full  of  heavenly  stuff"  &c. 

Frisch's  German  Dictionary  gives  this  explanation  of  the  word 
staff:  "  —  materies  ex  qua  aliquid  fieri  poterit."  STEEVENS. 

Shakspeare  in  Macbeth  uses  this  word  in  the  same  sense,  and 
in  a  manner  yet  more  harsh  : 

"  Cleanse  the  stuff- 'd  bosom  of  that  perilous  stuff" 

HOLT  WHITE. 

; he  prated,"]   Of  whom  is  this  said  ?  Of  Roderigo  ? 

STEEVENS. 

" the  magnifico — ]     "  The  chief  men  of  Venice  are  by 

a  peculiar  name  called  Magnifies,  i.  e.  magnificoes."  Minshea  s 
Dictionary.  See  too  Volpone.  TOLLET. 

3 a  voice  potential 

As  double  as  the  duke's;~\  It  appears  from  Thomas's  History 
of  Italy,  4to.  1560,  to  have  been  a  popular  opinion,  though  a 
false  one,  that  the  duke  of  Venice  had  a  double  voice:  "  Where- 
as," says  he,  "  many  have  reported,  the  duke  in  ballotyng  should 

R  2 


244  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

Or  put  upon  you  what  restraint  and  grievance 
The  law  (with  all  his  might,  to  enforce  it  on,) 


have  two  voices;  it  is  nothirrge  so;  for  in  giving  his  voice  he 
hath  but  one  ballot,  as  all  others  have."  Shakspeare,  therefore, 
might  have  gone  on  this  received  opinion,  which  he  might  have 
found  in  some  other  book.  Supposing,  however,  that  he  had 
learned  from  this  very  passage  that  the  duke  had  not  a  double 
voice  in  the  Council  of  Seven,  yet  as  he  has  a  vote  in  each  of  the 
various  councils  of  the  Venetian  state,  (a  privilege  which  no 
other  person  enjoys,)  our  poet  might  have  thought  himself  justi- 
fied in  the  epithet  which  he  has  here  used;  and  this  circumstance, 
which  he  might  have  found  in  a-  book  already  quoted,  Contareno's 
Commonwealth  and  Government  of  Venice,  4to.  1599,  was,  I  be- 
lieve, here  in  his  thoughts. 

"  The  duke  himself  also,  if  he  will,  may  use  the  authority  of 
an  advocator  or  president,  and  make  report  to  the  councell  of 
any  offence,  and  of  any  amercement  or  punishment  that  is 
thereupon  to  be  inflicted ; — for  so  great  is  the  prince's  authoritie, 
that  he  may,  in  whatsoever  court,  ADJOINE  himselfe  to  the  magis- 
trate therein,  being  president,  as  his  colleague  and  companion,  and 
have  EQUAL  POWER  WITH  THE  OTHER  PRESIDENTS,  that  he 
might  so  by  this  means  be  able  to  look  into  all  things,''  p.  41. 
Again,  ibidem,  p.  42:  "  Besides  this,  this  prince  [i.  e.  the  duke,~] 
hath  in  every  councell  equal  authoritie  with  any  of  them,  for  one 
suffrage  or  lotte."  Thus  we  see,  though  he  had  not  a  double 
voice  in  any  one  assembly,  yet  as  he  had  a  vote  in  all  the  various 
assemblies,  his  voice,  thus  added  to  the  voice  of  each  of  the 
presidents  of  those  assemblies,  might  with  strict  propriety  be 
called  double,  and  potential. — Potential,  Dr.  Johnson  thinks, 
means  operative,  having  the  effect,  (by  weight  and  influence,) 
without  the  external  actual  property.  It  is  used,  he  conceives, 
"  in  the  sense  of  science ;  a  caustick  is  called  potential  fire."  I 
question  whether  Shakspeare  meant  more  by  the  word  than  ope- 
rative, or  poiverjul.  MALONE. 

Double  and  single  anciently  signified  strong  and  weak,  when 
applied  to  liquors,  and  perhaps  to  other  objects.  In  this  sense 
the  former  epithet  may  be  employed  by  Brabantio,  and  the  latter 
by  the  Chief  Justice  speaking  to  Falstaff:  "  Is  not  your  wit 
single?"  When  Macbeth  also  talks  of  his  "single  state  of  man," 
he  may  mean  no  more  than  his  weak  and  debile  state  of  mind. 

*'  —  a  voice  potential 

"  As  double  as  the  duke's," 
may  therefore  only  signify,  that  Brabantio's  voice,  as  a  magni- 


K.  n.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          245 

Will  give  him  cable. 

OTH.  Let  him  do  his  spite : 

My  services,  which  I  have  done  the  signiory, 
Shall  out-tongue  his  complaints.  'Tis  yet  to  know, 
(Which,  when  I  know  that  boasting  is  an  honour, 
I  shall  promulgate,4)  I  fetch  my  life  and  being 
From  men  of  royal  siege;5  and  my  demerits6 


fico,  was  as  forcible  as  that  of  the  duke.     See  Vol.  X.  p.  49,  n. 
6;  and  Vol.  XII.  p.  37,  n.  2.     STEEVENS. 

The  DOUBLE  voice  of  Brabantio  refers  to  the  opinion,  which 
(as  being  a  magnified,  he  was  no  less  entitled  to,  than  the  duke 
himself,)  EITHER,  of  nullifying  the  marriage  of  his  daughter, 
contracted  without  his  consent ;  OR,  of  subjecting  Othello  to  fine 
and  imprisonment,  for  having  seduced  an  heiress.  HENLEY. 

4 'Tis  yet  to  know, 

(  Which,  taken  I  know  that  boasting  is  an  honour, 
I  shall  promulgate,]']     Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto,  1622, 
reads — 

"  • 'Tis  yet  to  know 

"  That  boasting  is  an  honour. 
"  I  shall  promulgate,  I  fetch,"  &c. 

Some  words  certainly  were  omitted  at  the  press  ;  and  perhaps 
they  have  been  supplied  in  the  wrong  place.  Shakspeare  might 
have  written — 

" 'Tis  yet  to  know 

"  That  boasting  is  an  honour;  which  when  I  know, 
"  I  shall  promulgate,  I  fetch  my  life,"  &c. 
I  am  yet  to  learn  that  boasting  is  honourable,  which  yhen  I 
have  learned,  I  shall  proclaim  to  the  world  that  I  fetch  my  life 
&c.     MALONE. 

I  am  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  reading  in  the  text,  which 
appears  not  to  have  been  suspected  of  disarrangement  by  any  of 
our  predecessors.  STEEVENS. 

5 men  of  royal  siege  ;]     Men  who  have  sat  upon  royal 

thrones. 

The  quarto  has — men  of  royal  height.  Siege  is  used  for  seat 
by  other  authors.  So,  in  Stowe's  Chronicle,  p.  575 :  "  there 
v/as  set  up  a  throne  or  siege  roi/all  for  the  king." 

Again,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  II.  c.  vii : 

"  A  stately  siege  of  soveraignc  majestye."     STEEVEXS. 


246  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

May  speak,  unbonneted,7  to  as  proud  a  fortune 
As  this  that  I  have  reach'd:  For  know,  lago, 


So,  in  Grafton's  Chronicle,  p.  443  :  "  Incontinent  after  that 
he  was  placed  in  the  royal  siege"  &c.  MALONE. 

6 and  my  demerits  — ]    Demerits  has  the  same  meaning 

in  our  author,  and  many  others  of  that  age,  as  merits  : 
"  Opinion,  that  so  sticks  on  Martius,  may 
"  Of  his  demerits  rob  Cominius.''     Coriolanus. 
Again,  in  Dugdale's  Warwickshire,  p.  850,  edit.  1730:  "  Henry 
Conway,  esq.  for  his  singular  demerits  received  the  dignity  of 
knighthood." 

Mereo  and  demereo  had  the  same  meaning  in  the  Roman  lan- 
guage. STEEVENS. 

7  May  speak,  unbonneted,]  Thus  all  the  copies  read.  It 
should  be — unbonneting,  i.  e.  without  putting  off  the  bonnet. 

POPE. 

I  do  not  see  the  propriety  of  Mr.  Pope's  emendation,  though 
adopted  by  Dr.  Warburton.  Unbonneling  may  as  well  be,  not 
putting  on,  as  not  putting  off",  the  bonnet.  Hanmer  reads  e'en 
bonneted.  JOHNSOX. 

To  speak  unbonnetted,  is  to  speak  tvith  the  cap  off,  which  is 
directly  opposite  to  the  poet's  meaning.  Othello  means  to  say, 
that  his  birth  and  services  set  him  upon  such  a  rank,  that  he 
may  speak  to  a  senator  of  Venice  with  his  hat  on  ;  i.  e.  \sithout 
showing  any  marks  of  deference  or  inequality.  I  therefore  am 
inclined  to  think  Shakspeare  wrote — 

May  speak,  and,  bonnetted,  Sfc.     THEOBALD. 

Bonneter  (says  Cotgrave)  is  to  put  off  one's  c&p.  So,  in  Co- 
riolanus: "  Those  who  are  supple  and  courteous  to  the  people, 
bonneted  without  any  further  deed  to  heave  them  at  all  into  their 
estimation."  Unbonneted  may  therefore  signify,  •without  taking 
the  cap  off".  We  might,  I  think,  venture  to  read  imbonneted. 
It  is  common  with  Shakspeare  to  make  or  use  words  compounded 
in  the  same  manner.  Such  are  impawn,  impaint,  impale,  and  im- 
mask.  Of  all  the  readings  hitherto  proposed,  that  of  Mr.  The- 
obald is,  I  think,  the  best.  STEEVENS. 

The  objection  to  Mr.  Steevens's  explanation  of  unbonneted, 
i.  e.  without  taking  the  cap.  off,  is,  that  Shakspeare  has  himself 
used  the  word  in  King  Lear,  Act  III.  sc.  i.  with  the  very  con- 
trary signification,  namely,  for  one  ivhose  cap  is  fff: 

« Unbounded  he  runs, 

"  And  Lias  what  ;vi!i  take  all." 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.  247 

But  that  I  love  the  gentle  Desdemona, 
I  would  not  my  unhoused8  free  condition 
Put  into  circumscription  and  confine 
For  the  sea's  worth.9  But,  look  !  what  lights  come 
yonder  ? 


He  might,  however,  have  employed  the  word  here  in  a  dif- 
ferent sense.  MALONE. 

Unbounded,  is  uncovered,  revealed,  made  known.  In  the 
second  Act  and  third  scene  of  this  play  we  meet  with  an  expres- 
sion similar  to  this  :  "  —  you  unlace  your  reputation  ;"  and  an- 
other in  As  you.  like  it,  Act  IV.  sc.  i:  "  Now  unmuzzle  your 
wisdom."  A.  C. 

Mr.  Fuseli  (and  who  is  better  acquainted  with  the  sense  and 
spirit  of  our  author?)  explains  this  contested  passage  as  follows: 

"  /  am  his  equal  or  superior  in  rank;  and  were  it  not  so,  such 
arc  my  demerits,  that,  unbonneted,  without  the  addition  of  patri- 
cian or  senatorial  dignity,  they  may  speak  to  as  proud  a  fortune 
&c. 

"  At  Venice,  the  bonnet,  as  well  as  the  toge,  is  a  badge  of  ari- 
stocratick  honours  to  this  day."  STEEVENS. 

8 unhoused — ~]     Free  from  domestick  cares.     A  thought 

natural  to  an  adventurer.     JOHNSON. 

Othello  talking  as  a  soldier,  unhoused  may  signify  the  having 
no  settled  house  or  habitation.  WHALLEY. 

9  For  the  seas  worth.']  I  would  not  many  her,  though  she 
were  as  rich  as  the  Adriatick,  which  the  Doge  annually  marries. 

JOHNSON. 

As  the  gold  ring  annually  thrown  by  the  Doge  into  the  Adria- 
tick, cannot  be  said  to  have  much  enriched  it,  I  believe  the 
common  and  obvious  meaning  of  this  passage  is  the  true  one. 

The  same  words  occur  in  Sir  W.  D'  Avenant's  Cruel  Brother, 
1630: 

" he  would  not  lose  that  privilege 

"  For  the  sea's  worth" 
Perhaps  the  phrase  is  proverbial. 

Pliny  the  naturalist  has  a  chapter  on  the  riches  of  the  sea, 
Again,  in  The  Winter's  Tale: 

" for  all  the  sun  sees,  or 

"  The  close  earth  wombs,  or  the  profound  sea  hides 
"  In  unknown  fathoms,"  &c. 
Again,  in  King  Henry  V.  Act  I : 


248  OTHELLO,  ACT 


Enter  CASSIO,  at  a  distance ,  and  certain  Officers 
with  Torches. 

I  AGO.  These  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  ? 

I  AGO.  By  Janus,  I  think  no. 

OTH.  The  servants  of  the  duke,  and  my  lieute- 
nant. 

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,2 
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  gallies 
Have  sent  a  dozen  sequent  messengers3 

« As  rich  with  praise, 

"  As  is  the  ooze,  and  bottom  of  the  sea, 

"  With  sunken  wreck,  and  sumless  treasuries." 

STEEVENS. 

1  The  goodness  of  the  night  upon  you,  friends !~]  So,  in  Mea- 
sure for  Measure : 

"  The  best  and  wholesomest  spirits  of  the  night 
*?  Envellop  you,  good  Provost !"     STEEVEXS. 

~ your  haste-post-haste  appearance,"]  The  comma,  hither- 
to placed  after  haste,  should  be  a  hyphen.  Your  haste-post" 
haste  appearance  is  your  immediate  appearance.  The  words 
"  Haste,  post,  haste,"  were  in  our  author's  time  usually  written 
on  the  cover  of  packets,  or  letters,  sent  express.  RITSON. 

s sequent  •messengers-^-']  The  first  quarto  reads— -frequent 

messengers.     STJEEVENS. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.  249 

This  very  night  at  one  another's  heels ; 

And  many  of  the  consuls,4  rais'd,  and  met, 

Are  at  the  duke's  already :  You  have  been  hotly 

call'd  for ; 

When,  being  not  at  your  lodging  to  be  found, 
The  senate  hath  sent  about5  three  several  quests, 
To  search  you  out. 

OTH.  'Tis  well  I  am  found  by  you. 

I  will  but  spend  a  word  here  in  the  house, 
And  go  with  you.  \_Exlt. 

CAS.  Ancient,  what  makes  he  here  ? 

IAGO.  'Faith,  he  to-night  hath  boarded  a  land 
carack  ;6 


4 the  consuls,']     See  p.  227,  n.  2.     STEEVENS. 

5  The  senate  hath  sent  about — ]  The  early  quartos,  and  all 
the  modern  editors,  have — 

The  senate  sent  above  three  several  quests, — 
The  folio— 

The  senate  hath  sent  about  Sfc. 

That  is,  about  the  city.     I  have  adopted  the  reading  of  the  folio. 

JOHNSON. 

Quests  are,  on  this  occasion,  searches.  So,  in  Heywood's 
Brazen  Age,  1613: 

"  Now,  if  in  all  his  quests,  he  be  witheld." 

An  ancient  MS.  entitled  "  The  Boke  of  Huntyng  that  is  cleped 
Mayster  of  Game,"  has  the  following  explanation  of  the  word 
quest :  "  This  word  quest  is  a  terme  of  herte  hunters  of  beyonde 
the  see ;  and  is  thus  moche  to  say  as  whan  the  hunter  goth  to 
fynde  of  the  hert  and  to  herborow  him."  STEEVENS. 

0 a  land  carack;]   A  carack  is  a  ship  of  great  bulk,  and 

commonly  of  great  value;  perhaps  what  we  now  call  a.  galleon. 

JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Coxcomb  : 

" they'll  be  freighted ; 

"  They're  made  like  caracks,  all  for  strength  and  stowage." 

STEEVEXS. 

The  first  ships  that  came  richly  laden  from  the  West  Indies  to 
Europe  vrere  those  from  the  Cameras,  part  of  the  Spanish  settle- 


250  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

If  it  prove  lawful  prize,  he's  made  for  ever. 
CAS.  I  do  not  understand. 
IAGO.  He's  married. 

CAS.  To  who?7 

Rc-enler  OTHELLO. 

IAGO.  Marry,  to — Come,  captain,  will  you  go  ? 
OTH.  Have  with  you.8 

ments ;  and  some  years  ago  a  Caracca  ship  generally  proved  a 
very  rich  prize.  M.  MASON. 

A  carack,  or  carick,  (for  so  it  was  more  frequently  written  in 
Shakspeare's  time,)  is  of  higher  origin,  and  was  denominated 
from  the  Spanish  word,  caraca,  which  signifies  a  vessel  of  great 
bulk,  constructed  to  carry  a  heavy  burthen.  The  Spanish  cara- 
ca,  Minsheu  thinks,  may  have  been  formed  from  the  Italian  carico, 
a  lading,  or  freight.  MALONE. 

7  To  'who  ?~]  It  is  somewhat  singular  that  Cassio  should  ask  this 
question.  In  the  3d  scene  of  the  3d  Act,  lago  says: 

"  Did  Michael  Cassio,  when  you  woo'd  my  lady, 
"  Know  of  your  love  ? 

"  Oth.  Fromfo-st  to  last." 

He  who  was  acquainted  with  the  object  courted  by  his  friend, 
could  have  little  reason  for  doubting  to  whom  he  would  be  mar- 
ried. STEEVENS. 

Cassio's  seeming  ignorance  of  Othello's  courtship  or  marriage 
might  only  be  affected;  in  order  to  keep  his  friend's  secret,  till  it 
became  publickly  known.  BLACKSTONE. 

Or  he  might  fear  that  Othello  had  proved  false  to  the  gentle 
Desdemona,  and  married  another.  MALONE. 

How  far  this  suspicious  apprehension  would  have  become  the 
benevolent  Cassio,  the  intimate  friend  of  Othello,  let  the  reader 
judge.  STEEVENS. 

s  Have  iKith  you.~\  This  expression  denotes  readiness.  So, 
in  the  ancient  Interlude  of  Nature,  bl.  1.  no  date : 

"  And  saw  that  Glotony  wold  nedys  begone  ; 

"  Have  ixith  thee,  Glotony,  quoth  he  anon, 

"  For  I  must  go  wyth  thee." 
See  Vol.  XIV.  p.  380,  n.  I.     STEEVENS. 


sc.  n.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          251 
CAS.  Here  comes  another  troop  to  seek  for  you. 

Enter    BRABANTIO,    RODERIGO,    and  Officers    of 
night,  with  Torches  and  Weapons. 

I  AGO.  It  is  Brabantio : — general,  be  advis'd  ;9 
He  comes  to  bad  intent. 

OTH.  Hola !  stand  there  ! 

ROD.  Signior,  it  is  the  Moor. 

BRA.  Down  with  him,  thief ! 

\_They  draw  on  both  sides. 

IAGO.  You,  Roderigo !  come,  sir,  I  am  for  you. 

OTH.  Keep  up  your  bright  swords,  for  the  dew 

will  rust  them. — 

Good  signior,  you  shall  more  command  with  years, 
Than  with  your  weapons. 

BRA.  O  thou  foul  thief,  where  hast  thou  stow'd 

my  daughter  ? 

Damn'd  as  thou  art,  thou  hast  enchanted  her : 
For  I'll  refer  me  to  all  things  of  sense, 
If  she  in  chains  of  magick  were  not  bound, 
Whether  a  maid — so  tender,  fair,  and  happy ; 
So  opposite  to  marriage,  that  she  shunn'd 
The  wealthy  curled  darlings  of  our  nation, J 

6 be  advis'd;]  That  is,  be  cool ;  be  cautious ;  be  discreet. 

JOHNSON. 

1  The  "wealthy  curled  darlings  of  our  nation^]  Curled  is  ele- 
gantly and  ostentatiously  dressed.  He  had  not  the  hair  particu- 
larly in  his  thoughts.  JOHNSON. 

On  another  occasion  Shakspeare  employs  the  same  expression, 
and  evidently  alludes  to  the  hair: 

"  If  she  first  meet  the  curled.  Antony,"  &c. 
Sir  W.  D' Avenant  uses  the  same  expression  in  his  Just  Italian, 
1630:  ' 

"  The  curl'd  and  silken  nobles  of  the  town." 


252  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

Would  ever  have,  to  incur  a  general  mock, 
Run  from  her  guardage  to  the  sooty  bosom 
Of  such  a  thing  as  thou :  to  fear,  not  to  delight.2 
£  Judge  me  the  world,3  if  'tis  not  gross  in  sense, 
That  thou  hast  practis'd  on  her  with  foul  charms; 
Abus'd  her  delicate  youth  with  drugs,  or  minerals, 

Again : 

"  Such  as  the  curled  youth  of  Italy." 

I  believe  Shakspeare  has  the  same  meaning  in  the  present  in- 
stance. Thus,  Turnus,  in  the  IQth.jtEneid,  speaking  of  -/Eneas: 

" foedare  in  pulvere  crines 

"  Vibratos  calidojerro, ."     STEEVENS. 

That  Dr.  Johnson  was  mistaken  in  his  interpretation  of  tin's 
line,  is  ascertained  by  our  poet's  Rape  ofLucrece,  where  the 
hair  is  not  merely  alluded  to,  but  expressly  mentioned,  and  the 
epithet  curled  is  added  as  characteristick  of  a  person  of  the 
highest  rank : 

"  Let  him  have  time  to  tear  his  curled  hair." 

Tarquin,  a  king's  son,  is  the  person  spoken  of.  Edgar,  when 
he  was  "  proud  in  heart  and  mind,"  curled  his  hair.  M ALONE. 

2  Of  such  a  thing  as  thou  :  to  fear,  not  to  delight.']     To  fear, 
in  the  present  instance,  may  mean — to  terrify.     So,  in  King 
Henry  VI.  P.  Ill : 

"  For  Warwick  was  a  bug  that  feard  us  all." 
The  line  spoken  by  Brabantio  is  redundant  in  its  measure.     It 
might  originally  have  ran — 

Of  such  as  tliou  ;  to  fear •,  not  to  delight. 

Mr.  Rowe,  however,  seems  to  have  selected  the  words  I  would 
omit,  as  proper  to  be  put  into  the  mouth  of  Horatio,  who  applies 
them  to  Lothario : 

"  To  be  the  prey  of  such  a  thing  as  thou  art." 

STEEVENS. 

to  fear,  not  to  delight.']     To  one  more  likely  to  terrify 

ihan  delight  her.  So,  in  the  next  scene  (Brabantio  is  again  the 
.speaker) : 

"  To  fall  in  love  with  what  shefear'd  to  look  on." 

Mr.  Steevens  supposes/ear  to  be  a  verb  here,  used  in  the  sense 
of  to  terrify;  a  signification  which  it  formerly  had.  But  fear, 
I  apprehend,  is  a  substantive,  and  poetically  used  for  the  object 
of  fear.  MALONE. 

3  [Judge  me  the  ivorld,  &c.]    The  lines  following  in  crotchets 
are  not  in  the  first  edition,  [1622.]     POPE. 


*:.  //.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE. 

That  waken  motion  :4 — I'll  have  it  disputed  on  ; 
'Tis  probable,  and  palpable  to  thinking. 


4  Abusd  her  delicate  youth  with  drugs,  or  mineral*, 

That  waken  motion:]    [Old  copy — weaken."]   Hanmcr  1'cads 
with  probability : 

That  waken  motion : .     JOHNSON. 

Motion  in  a  subsequent  scene  of  this  play  is  used  in  the  very 
sense  in  which  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  would  employ  it : — "  But 
we  have  reason  to  cool  our  raging  motions,  our  carnal  stings,  our 
unbitted  lusts."  STEEVENS. 

To  weaken  motion  is,  to  impair  the  faculties.  It  was  till  very 
lately,  and  may  with  some  be  still  an  opinion,  that  philtres  or 
love  potions  have  the  power  of  perverting,  and  of  course 
weakening  or  impairing  both  the  sight  and  judgment,  and  of 
procuring  fondness  or  dotage  toward  any  unworthy  object  who 
administers  them.  And  by  motion,  Shakspeare  means  the 
senses  which  are  depraved  and  weakened  by  these  fascinating 
mixtures.  HIT  SON. 

The  folio,  where  alone  this  passage  is  found,  reads  : 

That  weaken  motion  : . 

I  have  adopted  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  emendation,  because  I 
have  a  good  reason  to  believe  that  the  words  weaken  and  waken 
were  in  Shakspeare's  time  pronounced  alike,  and  hence  the  mis- 
take might  easily  have  happened.  Motion  is  elsewhere  used  !>\ 
our  poet  precisely  in  the  sense  required  here.  So,  in  Ci/wbclitic  • 

" for  there's  no  motion 

"  That  tends  to  vice  in  man,  but  I  affirm 

"  It  is  the  woman's  part." 
Again,  in  Hamlet: 

" sense  sure  you  have, 

"  Else  could  you  not  have  motion." 
Again,  in  Measure  for  Measure  : 

" one  who  never  feels 

"  The  wanton  stings  and  motions  of  the  sense." 
So  also,  in  A  mad  World  mi/  Masters,  by  Middleton,  1608; 

"  And  in  myself  sooth  up  adulterous  motions, 

"  And  such  an  appetite  as  I  know  damns  me." 
We  have  in  the  play  before  us — waken  d  wrath,  and  I  think  in 
some  other   play  of  Shakspeare  —  waken  d  love.     So,  in   our 
poet's  117th  Sonnet: 

"  But  shoot  not  at  me  in  your  wakened  hate," 
Ben  Jonson  in  his  preface  to  Volpone  has  asimilar  phraseology: 


254  OTHELLO,  ACT  /. 

I  therefore  apprehend  and  do  attach  thee,] 

" it  being  the  office  of  the  comick  poet  to  stir-re  up  gentle 

affections" 

Mr.  Theobald  reads — That  weaken  notion,  i.  e.  says  he,  her 
right  conception  and  idea  of  things  ;  understanding,  judgment. 

This  reading,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  derives  some  support 
from  a  passage  in  King  Lear,  Act  II.  sc.iv: — "  cither  his  notion 
weakens,  or  his  discernings  are  lethargy'd."     But  the  objection 
to  it  is,  that  no  opiates  or  intoxicating  potions  or  powders  of  any 
sort  can  distort  or  pervert  the  intellects,  but  by  destroying  them 
for  a  time  ;  nor  was  it  ever  at  any  time  believed  by  the  most  cre- 
dulous, that  love-powders,  as  they  were  called,  could  weaken  the 
understanding,  though  it  was  formerly  believed  that  they  could 
fascinate  the  affections :  or  in  other  words,  waken  motion. 
Brabantio  afterwards  asserts : 

"  That  with  some  mixtures  powerful  o'er  the  Mood 

"  He  wrought  upon  her." 

(Our  post,  it  should  be  remembered,  in  almost  all  his  plays  uses 
Mood  for  passion.  See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  275,  n.  7;  and  Vol.  XV. 
p.  314,  n.  5;  and  Vol.  XIX.  p.  127,  n.  3.)  And  one  of  the  Se- 
nators asks  Othello,  not,  whether  he  had  weaken* d  Desdemonu's 
understanding,  but  whether  he  did — 

" by  indirect  and  forced  courses 

"  Subdue  and  poison  this  young  maid's  affections" 
The  notion  of  the  efficacy  of  love-powders  was  formerly  so 
prevalent,  that  in  the  parliament  summoned  by  King  Richard 
the  Third,  on  his  usurping  the  throne,  it  was  publickly  urged  as 
a  charge  against  lady  Grey,  that  she  had  bewitched  King  Edward 
the  Fourth,  "  by  strange  potions  and  amorous  charms.1'  See 
Fabian,  p.  495;  Speed,  p.  913,  edit.  1632;  and  Habington's 
History  of  King  Edward  the  Fourth,  p.  35.  MALOKE. 

In  the  passages  adduced  by  Mr.  Steevens  and  Mr.  Malone,  to 
prove  that  motion  signifies  lustful  desires,  it  may  be  remarked 
that  the  word  derives  this  peculiar  meaning,  either  from  some 
epithet,  or  restrictive  mode  of  expression,  with  which  it  stands 
connected.  But,  had  it  been  used  absolutely,  in  that  sense,  with 
what  consistency  could  Brabantio  attribute  the  emotions  of  lust 
in  hisdaughter,  to  the  irritation  of  those  very  philtres,  which  he, 
in  the  seK'-same  breath,  represents  as  abating  it? 

The  drugs  or  minerals,  with  which  Othello  is  charged  as  hav- 
ing abused  the  delicate  youth  of  Desdemona,  were  supposed  to 
have  accomplished  his  purpose,- by 

"  Charming  her  blood  with  pleasing  heaviness," 


so.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          2,55 

For  an  abuser  of  the  world,5  a  practiser 
Of  arts  inhibited  and  out  of  warrant : — 
Lay  hold  upon  him ;  if  he  do  resist, 
Subdue  him  at  his  peril. 

OTH.  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, 
Call  tliee  to  answer. 

OTH.  What  if  I  do  obey  ? 

How  may  the  duke  be  therewith  satisfied  j 
Whose  messengers  are  here  about  my  side, 
Upon  some  present  business  of  the  state, 
To  bring6  me  to  him  ? 

OFF.  JTis  true,  most  worthy  signior, 

The  duke's  in  council ;  and  your  noble  self, 
I  urn  sure,  is  sent  for. 


thereby  weakening  MOTION,  that  is,  subduing  her  MAIDEN  PU- 
DENCY, and  lulling  her  WONTED  COYNESS  into  a  state  of  acqui- 
escence. 

That  this  is  the  sense  of  the  passage,  is  further  evident  from 
what  follows  ;  for  so  bashful  was  she  of  disposition, 
that  her  MOTION 


and,  th 


Blush'd  at  herself:" 
refore,  adds  Brabantio  : 


I  vouch  again, 


That  with  some  mixtures  powerful  o'er  the  blood, 
Or  with  some  dram  conjur'd  to  this  effect, 
He  wrought  upon  her."     HENLEY. 

;  For   an   abuser   &c.]       The   first   quarto   reads — Such   an 
abuser  &c.     STEEVENS. 

"  To  bring — ]     The  quartos  read — To  bear.     STEEVENS. 


256  OTHELLO,  ACTT. 

BRA.  How!  the  duke  in  council ! 

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,7  shall  our  statesmen  be. 

[Exeunt. 

7  Bond-slaves,  and  pagans,]  Mr.  Theobald  alters  pagans  to 
pageants,  for  this  reason,  "  That  pagans  are  as  strict  and  moral 
all  the  world  over,  as  the  most  regular  Christians,  in  the  preser- 
vation of  private  property."  But  what  then  ?  The  speaker  had 
not  this  high  opinion  of  pagan  morality,  as  is  plain  from  hence, 
that  this  important  discovery,  so  much  to  the  honour  of  pagan- 
ism, was  first  made  by  our  editor.  WARBUKTON. 

The  meaning  of  these  expressions  of  Brabantio  seem  to  have 
been  mistaken.  I  believe  the  morality  of  either  Christians  or 
pagans  was  not  in  our  author's  thoughts.  He  alludes  to  the 
common  condition  of  all  blacks,  who  come  from  their  own 
country  both  slaves  and  pagans ;  and  uses  the  word  in  con- 
tempt of  Othello  and  his  complexion. — If  this  Moor  is  now  suf- 
fered to  escape  with  impunity,  it  will  be  such  an  encouragement 
to  his  black  countrymen,  that  we  may  expect  to  see  all  the  first 
offices  of  our  state  filled  up  by  the  pagans  and  bond-slaves  of 
Africa.  STEEVENS. 

In  our  author's  time  pagan  was  a  very  common  expression  of 
contempt.  So,  in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II: 

"  What  pagan  may  that  be  ?" 
See  Vol.  XII.  p.  69,  n.  3.     MA  LONE. 


sc.  m.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          257 

SCENE  III. 

The  same.     A  Council-Chamber. 

The  Duke,  and  Senators,  sitting  at  a  Table ;  Offi- 
cers attending. 

DUKE.  There  is  no  composition8  in  these  news,9 
That  gives  them  credit. 

1  SEN.  Indeed,  they  are  disproportion'd; 
My  letters  say,  a  hundred  and  seven  gallies. 

DUKE.  And  mine,  a  hundred  and  forty. 

2  SEN.  And  mine,  two  hundred : 
But  though  they  jump  not  on  a  just  account, 
(As  in  these  cases,  where  the  aim  reports,1 

B  There  is  no  composition — ]  Composition,  for  consistency, 
concordancy ,  WARBUIITON. 

9  these  neivs,~\     Thus  the  quarto,  1622,  and  such  was 

frequently  the  phraseology  of  Shakspeare's  age.     So,  in  The 
Spanish  Tragedy,  1610: 

"  The  news  are  more  delightful  to  his  soul, ." 

See  also  Vol.  XIII.  p.  301,  n.  8.     The  folio  reads — this  news. 

M  ALONE. 

1  As  in  these  cases,  where  the  aim  reports,']  The  folio  has — 
the  aim  reports.  But,  they  aim  reports,  [the  reading  of  the 
quarto]  has  a  sense  sufficiently  easy  and  commodious.  Where 
men  report  not  by  certain  knowledge,  but  by  aim  and  conjecture. 

JOHNSON. 

To  aim  is  to  conjecture.  So,  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona  : 

11  But  fearing  lest  my  jealous  aim  might  err." 
Again,  in  the  manuscript  known  by  the  title  of  William  and  the 
Werwolf,  in  the  library  of  King's  College,  Cambridge:  "  No 
man  upon  mold,  might  ay  me  the  number."     P.  56. 

STEEVENS. 

ixkere  the  aim  reports,']  In  these  cases  where  conjecture 


VOL.  XIX.  S 


258  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

'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.  [Wifliin.~}   What  ho!   what  ho!   what 
ho! 

Enter  an  Officer,  with  a  Sailor. 

OFF.  A  messenger  from  the  gallies. 

DUKE.  Now  ?  the  business  ? 

SAIL.  The  Turkish  preparation  makes  for  Rhodes ; 
So  was  I  bid  report  here  to  the  state, 
By  signior  Angelo.2 

DUKE.  How  say  you  by  this  change  ? 

1  SEN.  This  cannot  be, 

By  no  assay  of  reason  ;3  'tis  a  pageant, 
To  keep  us  in  false  gaze :  When  we  consider 
The  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  question4  bear  it, 

or  suspicion  tells  the  tale.     Aim  is  again  used  as  a  substantive, 
in  this  sense,  in  Julius  Caesar; 

"  What  you  would  work  me  to,  I  have  some  aim." 

MALONE. 

-  By  signior  Angelo.~]     This  hemistich  is  wanting  in  the  first 
quarto.     STEEVENS. 

3  By  no  assay  of  reason  ;~]     Bring  it  to  the  test,  examine  it 
by  reason  as  we  examine  metals  by  the  assay,  it  will  be  found 
counterfeit  by  all  trials.     JOHNSON. 

4  with  more  facile  question — ]    Question  is  for  the  act  of 

seeking*     With  more  easy  endeavour.     JOHNSON. 


A7.  ///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          259 

For  that  it  stands  not5  in  such  warlike  brace,6 

But  altogether  lacks  the  abilities 

That  Rhodes  is  dress'd  in: — if  we  make  thought 

of  this, 

We  must  not  think,  the  Turk  is  so  unskilful, 
To  leave  that  latest  which  concerns  him  first  5 
Neglecting  an  attempt  of  ease,  and  gain, 
To  wake,  and  wage,  a  danger  profitless.7 

DUKE.   Nay,   in   all  confidence,  he's  not  for 
Rhodes. 

OFF.  Here  is  more  news. 


Enter  a  Messenger. 

MESS.  The  Ottomites,  reverend  and  gracious, 
Steering  with  due  course  toward  the  isle  of  Rhodes, 
Have  there  injointed  them  with  an  after  fleet. 

1  SEN.  Ay,  so  I  thought : 8 — How  many,  as  you 
guess  ? 

So  may  he  with  more  facile  question  bear  it,"]  That  is,  he 
may  carry  it  with  less  dispute,  with  less  opposition.  I  don't  see 
how  the  word  question  can  signify  the  act  of  seeking,  though  the 
word  guest  may.  M.  MASON. 

s  For  that  it  stands  not  &c.]  The  seven  following  lines  are 
added  since  the  first  edition.  POPE. 

•  warlike  brace,]   State  of  defence.     To  arm  was  called 


to  brace  on  the  armour.     JOHNSON. 

7  To  wake,  and  wage,  a  danger  profitless."]  To  wage  here, 
as  in  many  other  places  in  Shakspeare,  signifies  to  nght,  to 
combat. 

Thus,  in  King  Lear: 

"  To  wage  against  the  enmity  of  the  air.'* 
It  took  its  rise  from  the  common  expression,  to  wage  war. 

STEEVENS. 

9  Ay,  so  &c.]   This  line  is  not  in  the  first  quarto.  STEEVENS. 

S  2 


260  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

MESS.  Of  thirty  sail :  and  now  do  they  re-stem9 
Their  backward  course,  bearing  with  frank  ap- 
pearance 

Their  purposes  toward  Cyprus. — Signior  Montano, 
Your  trusty  and  most  valiant  servitor, 
With  his  free  duty  recommends  you  thus, 
And  prays  you  to  believe  him.1 

DUKE.  'Tis  certain  then  for  Cyprus. — 
Marcus  Lucchese,2  is  he  not  in  town  ? 

1  SEN.  He's  now  in  Florence. 

DUKE.   Write  from  us;    wish  him3  post-post- 
haste :  despatch.* 

l  SEN.  Here  comes  Brabantio,  and  the  valiant 
Moor. 


9  do  they  re-stem — ]     The  quartos  mean  to  read,— re- 

sterne,  though  in  the  first  of  them  the  word  is  misspelt. 

STEEVENS. 

1  And  prays  you  to  believe  him.']     He  entreats  you  not  to 
doubt  the  truth  of  this  intelligence.     JOHNSON. 

2  Marcus  Lucchese, 3     The  old  copies  have  Luccicos.     Mr. 
Steevens  made  the  correction.     MALONE. 

3  icish  him — ]    i.  e.  recommend,  desire  him.     See  Vol. 

VI.  p.  79,  n.  6,  and  other  places.     REED. 

4  'wish  him  post-post-haste :  despatch.]   i.  e.  tell  him  we 

wish  him  to  make  all  possible  haste.     Post-haste  is  before  in  this 
play  used  adjectively : 

"  And  he  requires  your  haste-post-haste  appearance." 
All  messengers  in  the  time  of  Shakspeare  were  enjoined, 
*'  Haste  haste  ;  for  thy  life,  post  haste." 

The  reading  of  the  text  is  that  of  the  quarto,  1622.     The 
folio  reads : 

Write  from  us  to  him,  post ,  post-haste,  dispatch. 

MALONE. 


Sc.m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          261 


Enter  BRABANTIO,  OTHELLO^  IAGO,  RODERIGO, 
and  Officers. 

DUKE.  Valiant  Othello,  we  must  straight  em- 
ploy you 

Against  the  general  enemy  Ottoman.5 
I  did  not  see  you ;  welcome,  gentle  signior ; 

[To  BRABANTIO. 

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  rais'd  me  from  my  bed ;  nor  doth  the  gene- 
ral care6 


*    Valiant  Othello,  tvc  must  straight  employ  you 

Against  the  general  enemy  Ottoman.^  It  is  part  of  the  policy 
of  the  Venetian  state  never  to  entrust  the  command  of  an  army 
to  a  native.  "  To  exclude,  therefore,  (says  Contareno,  as  trans- 
lated by  Lewkenor,  4-to.  1599,)  out  of  our  estate  the  danger  or 
occasion  of  any  such  ambitious  enterprises,  our  ancestors  held  it 
a  better  course  to  defend  the  dominions  on  the  continent  with 
foreign  mercenary  soldiers,  than  with  their  homebred  citizens :" 
Again :  "  Their  charges  and  yearly  occasions  of  disbursement 
are  likewise  very  great ;  for  alwaies  they  do  entertain  in  ho- 
nourable sort  with  gueat  provision  a  capiaine  general?,  who  al- 
waies is  a  stranger  borne."  MALONE. 

It  was  usual  for  the  Venetians  to  employ  strangers  and  even 
Moors  in  their  wars.  See  The  White  Devil,  or  Viitoria  Co- 
rombona,  Act  V.  sc.  i.  See  also  Ho  well's  Letters,  B.  I.  S.  1. 
Letter  xxviii.  REED. 

0  general  care — ]  The  word  care,  which  encumbers  the 

verse,  was  probably  added  by  the  players.     Shakspeare  uses  the 
general  as  a  substantive,  though,  1  think,  not  in  this  sense. 

JOHNSON. 

The  word  general,  when  used  by  Shakspeare  as  a  substantive, 
always  implies  the  populace,  not  the  publick :  and  if  it  were 
used  here  as  an  adjective,  without  the  word  care,  it  must  refer 
to  grief'm  the  following  line,  a  word  which  may  properly  denote 


262  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

Take  hold7  on  me  ;  for  my  particular  grief 
Is  of  so  flood-gate  and  o'er-bearing  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 ! 
SEN.  Dead  ? 

BRA.  Ay,  to  me ; 

She  is  abus'd,  stol'n  from  me,  and  corrupted 
By  spells  and  medicines  bought  of  mountebanks  :8 


a  private  sorrow,  but  not  the  alarm  which  a  nation  is  supposed 
to  feel  on  the  approach  of  a  formidable  enemy.  M.  MASON. 

I  suppose  the  author  wrote : 

Rais'd  me  from  bed;  nor  doth  the  general  care . 

and  not — 

Hath  raised  me  from  my  bed;  &c. 

The  words  in  the  Roman  character  I  regard  as  playhouse  inter- 
polations, by  which  the  metre  of  this  tragedy  is  too  frequently 
deranged.  STEEVENS. 

general  care — ] 

" juvenumque  prodis, 

"  Publica  cura."     Hor.     STEEVENS. 

7  Take  hold — ]   The  first  quarto  reads — Take  any  hold. 

STEEVENS. 

*  By  spells  and  medicines  bought  of  mountebanks  :~\  Rymer  has 
ridiculed  this  circumstance  as  unbecoming  (both  for  its  weak- 
ness and  superstition,)  the  gravity  of  the  accuser,  and  the  dignity 
of  the  tribunal :  but  his  criticism  only  exposes  his  own  ignorance. 
The  circumstance  was  not  only  exactly  in  character,  but  urged 
with  the  greatest  address,  as  the  thing  chiefly  to  be  insisted  on. 
For,  by  the  Venetian  law,  the  giving  love  potions  was  very  cri- 
minal, as  Shakspeare,  without  question,  well  understood.  Thus 
the  law,  Dei  malcjicii  et  herlmrie,  cap.  xvii.  of  the  code,  in- 
titled,  "  Delia  promission  del  maleficio."  "  Statuimo  etiamdio, 
che-.se  alcun  homo,  o  femina,  harra  fatto  maleficii,  iquali  se  di- 
mandano  vulgannente  amatorie,  o  veramente  alcuni  altri  male- 
ficii, che  alcun  homo  o  femiaa  se  havesson  in  odio,  sia  frusta  et 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          263 

For  nature  so  preposterously  to  err, 

Being  not  deficient,  blind,  or  lame  of  sense,9 

Sans  witchcraft  could  not1 

DUKE.  Whoe'er  he  be,  that,  in  this  foul  pro- 
ceeding, 
Hath  thus  beguil'd  your  daughter  of  herself, 

bollado,  et  che  hara  consegliado  patisca  simile  pena."     And 
therefore  in  the  preceding  scene  Brabantio  calls  them : 

" arts  inhibited,  and  out  of  warrant." 

WARBURTON. 

Though  I  believe  Shakspeare  knew  no  more  of  this  Venetian 
law  than  I  do,  yet  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  edicts  of  that 
sapient  prince,  King  James  the  First,  against — 

" practisers 

"  Of  arts  inhibited,  and  out  of  warrant."     STEEVENS. 
See  p.  253,  n.  4.     MALONE. 

9  Being  not  &c.]     This  line  is  wanting  in  the  first  quarto. 

STEEVENS. 

1  For  nature  so  preposterously  to  err, 

Sans  witchcraft  could  not — ]     The  grammar  requires  we 
should  read : 

For  nature  so  preposterously  err,  &c. 

without  the  article  to;  and  then  the  sentence  will  be  complete. 

M.  MASON. 

Were  I  certain  that  our  author  designed  the  sentence  to  be 
complete,  and  not  to  be  cut  short  by  the  Duke's  interruption,  I 
should  readily  adopt  the  amendment  proposed  by  Mr.  M.  Mason. 

STEEVENS. 

Omission  is  at  all  times  the  most  dangerous  mode  of  emenda- 
tion, and  here  assuredly  is  unnecessary.  We  have  again  and 
again  had  occasion  to  observe,  that  Shakspeare  frequently  begins 
to  construct  a  sentence  in  one  mode,  and  ends  it  in  another. 
See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  94,  n.  9.  Here  he  uses  could  not,  as  if  he 
had  written,  has  not  the  power  or  capacity  to,  &c.  It  is  not  in 
nature  so  to  err;  she  knows  not  how  to  do  it.  MALONE. 

Mr.  Malone's  opinion  relative  to  omissions,  is  contradicted  by 
an  ancient  canon  of  criticism, — Praeferatur  lectio  brevior.  I 
think  it,  in  respect  to  Shakspeare,  of  all  other  modes  of  emen- 
dation the  least  reprehensible.  See  the  Advertisement  prefixed 
to  this  edition  of  our  author,  and  Vol.  IV.  p.  71,  n.  2. 

STEEVENS. 


264  OTHELLO,  ACT  /. 

And  you  of  her,  the  bloody  book  of  law 
You  shall  yourself  read  in  the  bitter  letter, 
After  your  own  sense  ;  yea,  though  our  proper  son 
Stood  in  your  action.2 

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  <§r  SEN.  We  are  very  sorry  for  it. 

DUKE.  What,  in  your  own  part,  can  you  say  to 
this?  [To  OTHELLO. 

BRA.  Nothing,  but  this  is  so. 

OTH.  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  offending3 
Hath  this  extent,  no  more.     Rude  am  I  in  my 

speech, 
And  little  bless'd  with  the  set  phrase  of  peace  ;4 

s  Stood  in  your  action.~\     Were  the  man  exposed  to  your 
charge  or  accusation.     JOHNSON. 

3  The  veni  head  and  front  of  mi/  offending — "]   The  main,  the 
77  IT         j     y  jj          o      -i 

"whole,  unextenuated.     JOHNSON. 

"  Frons  causoe  non  satis  honesta  est,"  is  a  phrase  used  by 
Quintilian.     STEEVENS. 

A  similar  expression  is  found  in  Marlowe's  Tambtirlaine,159Q: 
"  The  man  that  in  the  forehead  of  his  fortunes 
"  Beares  figures  of  renowne  and  miracle." 
Again,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida: 

"  So  rich  advantage  of  a  promis'd  glory, 

"  As  smiles  upon  the  forehead  of  this  action." 

MA  LONE. 

4  And  little  bless' 'd  tvith  the  set  phrase  of  'peace  ;]     Soft  is  the 
reading  of  the  folio.    JOHNSON. 

This  apology,  if  addressed  to  his  mistress,  had  been  well  ex- 


56'.  ///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          265 

For  since  these  arms  of  mine  had  seven  years'  pith, 
Till  now  some  nine  moons  wasted,  they  have  us'd 
Their  dearest  action5  in  the  tented  field ; 
And  little  of  this  great  world  can  I  speak, 
More  than  pertains  to  feats  of  broil  and  battle  ; 
And  therefore  little  shall  I  grace  my  cause, 
In  speaking  for  myself:  Yet,  by  your  gracious  pa- 
tience, 
I  will  a  round  unvarnish'd6  tale  deliver 


pressed.  But  what  he  wanted,  in  speaking  before  a  Venetian 
senate,  was  not  the  soft  blandishments  of  speech,  but  the  art 
and  method  of  masculine  eloquence.  The  old  quarto  reads  it, 
therefore,  as  I  am  persuaded  Shakspeare  wrote : 

the  set  phrase  of  peace.     WARBURTON. 

Soft  may  have  been  used  for  still  r.nd  calm,  as  opposed  to  the 
clamours  of  war.     So,  in  Coriolanus: 
Say  to  them, 


Again, 


Thou  art  their  soldier,  and,  being  bred  in  broils, 
Hast  not  the  soft  way,  which  thou  dost  confess 
Were  fit  for  thee  to  use." 

n  Antony  and  Cleopatra  : 


'Tis  a  worthy  deed, 


And  shall  become  you  well,  to  entreat  your  captain 
To  soft  and  gentle  speech."     MALONE. 

5  Their  dearest  action — ]  That  is,  dear,  for  which  much  is 
paid,  whether  money  or  labour ;  dear  action,  is  action  performed 
at  great  expence,  either  of  ease  or  safety.  JOHNSON. 

Their  dearest  action  is  their  most  important  action.  See 
p.  202,  n.  9.  MALONE. 

Instead  of  their  dearest  action,  we  should  say  in  modern  lan- 
guage, their  best  exertion.  STEEVENS. 

I  should  give  these  words  a  more  natural  signification,  and  sup- 
pose that  they  mean — their  favourite  action,  the  action  most  dear 
to  them.  Othello  says  afterwards : 

" I  do  agnize 

"  A  natural  and  prompt  alacrity 

"  I  find  in  hardness."     M.  MASON. 

'      unvarnished — ]    The  second  quarto  reads — unrdvished. 

STEEVENS. 


266  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

Of  my  whole  course  of  love ;  what  drugs,  what 

charms, 

What  conjuration,  and  what  mighty  magick, 
(For  such  proceeding  I  am  charg'd  withal,) 
I  won  his  daughter  with.7 

BRA.  A  maiden  never  bold  ; 

Of  spirit  so  still  and  quiet,  that  her  motion 
Blush'd  at  herself;8  And  she, —  in  spite  of  nature, 
Of  years,  of  country,  credit,  every  thing, — 
To  fall  in  love  with  what  she  fear'd  to  look  on  ? 
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 
To  find  out  practices  of  cunning  hell, 
Why  this  should  be.     I  therefore  vouch  again, 

7 1 'won  Ms  daughter  tvith. — ]  [The  first  quarto  and  folio — Itvon 
Ms  daughter. ~\  i.  e.  I  won  his  daughter  with :  and  so  all  the  mo- 
dern editors  read,  adopting  an  interpolation  made  by  the  editor 
of  the  second  folio,  who  was  wholly  unacquainted  with  our  poet's 
metre  and  phraseology.  In  Timon  of  Athens  we  have  the  same 
elliptical  expression  : 

"  Who  had  the  world  as  my  confectionary, 
"  The  mouths,  the  tongues,  the  eyes,  and  hearts  of  men, 
"  At  duty,  more  than  I  could  frame  employment  [_Jbr~]." 
See  also  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  647,  n.  2,  where  several  other  in- 
stances of  a  similar  phraseology  are  collected.    MALONE. 

As  my  sentiments  concerning  the  merits  of  the  second  folio 
are  diametrically  opposite  to  Mr.  Malone's  opinion  of  it,  I  have 
not  displaced  a  grammatical  to  make  room  for  an  ungrammatical 
expression. 

What  Mr.  Malone  has  styled  "  similar  phraseology,"  I  should 
not  hesitate  to  call,  in  many  instances,  congeniality  of  omissions 
and  blunders  made  by  transcribers,  players,  or  printers. 

The  more  I  am  become  acquainted  with  the  ancient  copies, 
less  confidence  I  am  disposed  to  place  in  their  authority,  as  often 
as  they  exhibit  anomalous  language,  and  defective  metre. 

STEEVENS. 

8  Blush'd  at  herself;}  Mr.  Pope  reads — at  itself,  but  without 
necessity.  Shakspeare,  like  other  writers  of  his  age,  frequently 
uses  the  personal,  instead  of  the  neutral  pronoun.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          267 

That  with  some  mixtures  powerful  o'er  the  blood, 
Or  with  some  dram  conjur'd  to  this  effect, 
He  wrought  upon  her. 

DUKE.  To  vouch  this,  is  no  proof;9 

Without  more  certain  and  more  overt  test,1 
Than  these  thin  habits,  and  poor  likelihoods 
Of  modern  seeming,2  do  prefer  against  him. 

1  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  ? 

OTH.  I  do  beseech  you, 

Send  for  the  lady  to  the  Sagittary,3 
And  let  her  speak  of  me  before  her  father : 
If  you  do  find  me  foul  in  her  report, 

9  To  vouch  &c.]  The  first  folio  unites  this  speech  with  the 
preceding  one  of  Bralantio;  and  instead  of  certain  reads  wider. 

STEEVENS. 

1  overt  test,"]     Open  proofs,  external  evidence. 

JOHNSON. 

2  thin  halits, 

Of  modern  seeming,']     Weak  show  of  slight  appearance. 

JOHNSON. 

So  modern  is  generally  used  by  Shakspeare.  See  Vol.  VIII. 
p.  276,  n.  5 ;  and  Vol.  X.  p.  24*5,  n.  5.  MALONE. 

The  first  quarto  reads  : 

"  These  are  thin  habits,  and  poore  likelyhoods 
"  Of  modern  seemings  you  prefer  against  him." 

STEEVENS. 

3  the  Sagittary,]    So  the  folio  here  and  in  a  former  pas- 
sage.    The  quarto  in  both  places  reads — the  Sagittar. 

MALONE. 

The  Sagittary  means  the  sign  of  the  fictitious  creature  so 
called,  i.  e.  an  animal  compounded  of  man  and  horse,  and  armed 
with  a  bow  and  quiver.  See  Vol.  XV.  p.  46.1,  n.  7. 

STEEVENS. 


OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

The  trust,  the  office,  I  do  hold  of  you,4 
Not  only  take  away,  but  let  your  sentence 
Even  fall  upon  my  life. 

DUKE.  Fetch  Desdemona  hither. 

OTH.  Ancient,  conduct  them;  you  best  know 
the  place.— 

[Exeunt  I  AGO  and  Attendants. 
And,  till  she  come,  as  truly5  as  to  heaven 
I  do  confess6  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. 

OTH.  Her  father  lov'd  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  through,  even  from  my  boyish  days, 
To  the  very  moment  that  he  bade  me  tell  it. 
Wherein  I  spoke  of  most  disastrous  chances, 
Of  moving  accidents,  by  flood,  and  field ; 
Of  hair-breadth   scapes  i'   the  imminent  deadly 

breach ; 

Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe, 
And  sold  to  slavery ;  of  my  redemption  thence, 
And  portance  in  my  travel's  history:7 

4  The  trust,  &c.]    This  line  is  wanting  in  the  first  quarto. 

STEEVENS. 

4  as  truly — ]   The  first  quarto  reads — as  faithful. 

STEEVENS. 

*  I  do  confess  &c.]   This  line  is  omitted  in  the  first  quarto. 

STEEVENS. 

7  And  portance  fyc."]  I  have  restored — 
And  "with  it  all  my  travel's  history, 
from  the  old  edition.     It  is  in  the  rest: 

And  portance  in  my  travels  history. 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          269 

Wherein  of  antres  vast,8  and  desarts  idle,9 


Rymer,  in  his  criticism  on  this  play,  has  changed  it  to  portents, 
instead  of  portance.  POPE. 

Mr.  Pope  has  restored  a  line  to  which  there  is  a  little  objection, 
but  which  has  no  force.  I  believe  portance  was  the  author's 
word  in  some  revised  copy.  I  read  thus : 

Of  being sold 

To  slavery,  of  my  redemption  thence, 
And  portance  in't ;  my  travel's  history. 
My  redemption  from  slavery,  and  behaviour  in  it.     JOHNSON". 

J  doubt  much  whether  this  line,  as  it  appears  in  the  folio, 
came  from  the  pen  of  Shakspeare.  The  reading  of  the  quarto 
may  be  iveafc,  but  it  is  sense ;  but  what  are  we  to  understand  by 
my  demeanour,  or  my  sufferings,  (which  ever  is  the  meaning,) 
in  my  travel's  history  ?  MALONE. 

By — my  portance  in  my  travel's  history,  perhaps  our  author 
meant — my  behaviour  in  my  travels  as  described  in  my  history  of 
them. 

Portance  is  a  word  already  used  in  Coriolanus: 

" took  from  you 

"  The  apprehension  of  his  present  portance, 
"  Which  gibingly,  ungravely,  he  did  fashion,"  &c. 
Spenser,  in  the  third  Canto  of  the  second  Book  of  the  Fairy 
Queen,  likewise  uses  it : 

"  But  for  in  court  gay  portaunce  he  perceiv'd." 

STEEVENS. 

8  Wherein  of  antres  vast,  &c.]  Discourses  of  this  nature  made 
the  subject  of  the  politest  conversations,  when  voyages  into,  and 
discoveries  of,  the  new  world  were  all  in  vogue.  So,  when  the 
Bastard  Faulconbridge  in  King  John,  describes  the  behaviour  of 
upstart  greatness,  he  makes  one  of  the  essential  circumstances 
of  it  to  be  this  kind  of  table-talk.  The  fashion  then  running 
altogether  in  this  way,  it  is  no  wonder  a  young  lady  of  quality 
should  be  struck  with  the  history  of  an  adventurer.  So  that 
Rymer,  who  professedly  ridicules  this  whole  circumstance,  and 
the  noble  author  of  the  Characteristic's,  who  more  obliquely 
sneers  at  it,  only  expose  their  own  ignorance.  WARBURTON. 

Whoever  ridicules  this  account  of  the  progress  of  love,  shows 
his  ignorance,  not  only  of  history,  but  of  nature  and  manners. 
It  is  no  wonder  that,  in  any  age,  or  in  any  nation,  a  lady,  re- 
cluse, timorous,  and  delicate,  should  desire  to  hear  of  events  and 
scenes  which  she  could  never  see,  and  should  admire  the  man 


270  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

Rough  quarries,  rocks,  and  hills  whose  heads  touch 

heaven, 
It  was  my  hint  to  speak,1  such  was  the  process ; 

who  had  endured  dangers,  and  performed  actions,  which,  how- 
ever great,  were  yet  magnified  by  her  timidity.  JOHNSON. 

antres — ]  French,  grottos.     POPE. 

Caves  and  dens.     JOHNSON. 

9  and  desarts  idle,]  Every  mind  is  liable  to  absence  and 

inadvertency,  else  Pope  [who  reads — desarts  ivild,~\  could  never 
have  rejected  a  word  so  poetically  beautiful.  Idle  is  an  epithet 
used  to  express  the  infertility  of  the  chaotick  state,  in  the  Saxon 
translation  of  the  Pentateuch.  JOHNSON. 

So,  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors: 

"  Usurping  ivy,  briar,  or  idle  moss." 

Mr.  Pope  might  have  found  the  epithet  ixild  in  all  the  three 
last  folios.  STEEVENS. 

The  epithet,  idle,  which  the  ignorant  editor  of  the  second 
folio  did  not  understand,  and  therefore  changed  to  wild,  is  con- 
firmed by  another  passage  in  this  Act:  " — either  to  have  it 
steril  with  idleness,  or  manured  with  industry."  MALONE. 

Virgil  employs  ignavus  in  the  same  way : 

" Iratus  sylvam  devexit  arator, 

"  Et  nemora  evertit  multos  ignava  per  annos." 

Georg.  II.  v.  207.     HOLT  WHITE. 

1  It  ivas  my  hint  to  speak,~\  This  implies  it  as  done  by  a  trap 
laid  for  her :  but  the  old  quarto  reads  hent,  i.  e.  use,  custom. 
[Hint  is  the  reading  of  the  folio.]  WARBURTONT. 

Hent  is  not  use  in  Shakspeare,  nor,  I  believe,  in  any  other 
author.  Hint,  or  cue,  is  commonly  used  for  occasion  of  speech, 
which  is  explained  by,  such  is  the  process,  that  is,  the  course  of 
the  tale  required  it.  If  hent  be  restored,  it  may  be  explained  by 
handle.  I  had  a  handle,  or  opportunity,  to  speak  of  cannibals. 

JOHNSON. 

Hent  occurs  at  the  conclusion  of  the  4th  Act  of 'Measure  for 
Measure.  It  is  derived  from  the  Saxon  Hentan,  and  means,  to 
take  hold  of,  to  seize: 

" the  gravest  citizens 

"  Have  hent  the  gates." 
But  in  the  very  next  page  Othello  says : 

" Upon  this  hint  I  spake." 

It  is  certain  therefore  that  change  is  unnecessary.    STEEVENS. 


x.  in.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          271 

And  of  the  Cannibals  that  each  other  eat, 

The  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose  heads 

Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders.2    These  things  to 

hear, 

Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline  : 
But  still  the  house  affairs  would  draw  her  thence ; 
Which  ever  as  she  could  with  haste  despatch, 
She'd  come  again,  and  with  a  greedy  ear 
Devour  up  my  discourse  :3  Which  I  observing, 

* men  whose  heads 

Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders.]  Of  these  men  there  is  an 
account  in  the  interpolated  travels  of  Mandeville,  a  book  of  that 
time.  JOHNSON. 

The  Cannibals  and  Anthropophagi  were  known  to  an  English 
audience  before  Shakspeare  introduced  them.  In  The  History 
of  Orlando  Furioso,  played  for  the  entertainment  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, they  are  mentioned  in  the  very  first  scene ;  and  Raleigh 
speaks  of  people  whose  heads  appear  not  above  their  shoulders. 

Again,  in  the  tragedy  of  Locrine,  1595  : 

"  Or  where  the  bloody  Anthropophagi, 

"  With  greedy  jaws  devour  the  wandring  wights." 

The  poet  might  likewise  have  read  of  them  in  Pliny's  Natural 
History,  translated  by  P.  Holland,  1601,  and  in  Stowe's  Chro- 
nicle. STEEVENS. 

Histories  (says  Bernard  Gilpin,  in  a  Sermon  before  Ed- 
ward VI.)  make  mention  of  a  "  people  called  Anthropophagi, 
eaters  of  men."  REED. 

Our  poet  has  again  in  The  Tempest  mentioned  "  men  whose 
heads  stood  in  their  breasts."  He  had  in  both  places  probably 
Hackluyt's  Voyages,  1598,  in  view: — "  On  that  branch  which 
is  called  Caora,  are  a  nation  of  a  people  whose  heades  appears 
not  above  their  shoulders : — they  are  reported  to  have  their  eyes 
in  their  shoulders,  and  their  mouthes  in  the  middle  of  their 
breasts." 

Raleigh  also  has  given  an  account  of  men  whose  heads  do  grow 
beneath  their  shoulders,  in  his  Description  of  Guiana,  published 
in  1596,  a  book  that  without  doubt  Shakspeare  had  read. 

MALONF,. 

3  and  with  a  greedy  ear 

Devour  up  my  discourse:^  So,  in  Marlowe's  Lust's  Domi- 
nion, written  before  1593: 


272  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

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  :4  I  did  consent ; 

"  Hang  both  your  greedy  ears  upon  my  lips ; 
"  Let  them  devour  my  speech." 
Again,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  VI.  c.  ix : 

"  Whylest  thus  he  talkt,  the  knight  'with  greedy  eare 
"  Hong  still  upon  his  melting  mouth  attent." 

MALOXE. 

Both  these  phrases  occur  in  Tully.  "  Non  semper  implet  aures 
meas,  ita  sunt  avidtz  &  capaces."  Or  at.  104.  "  Nos  hinc  vora- 
mus  literas — ."  Ad.  Attic,  iv.  14.  Auribus  avidis  captare,  may 
also  be  found  in  Ovid,  De  Ponto.  STEEVENS. 

"  Iliacosque  iterum  demens  audire  labores 
"  Exposcit,  pendetque  iterum  narrantis  ab  ore."      Virg. 

M.  MASON. 

4  But  not  intentively :]  Thus  the  eldest  quarto.  The  first  folio 
reads — instinctively ;  the  second, — distinctively. 

The  old  word,  however,  may  stand — Intention  and  attention 
were  once  synonymous.  So,  in  a  play  called  The  Isle  of  Gulls, 
1606 :  "  Grace !  at  sitting  down,  they  cannot  intend  it  for  hun- 
ger," i.  e.  attend  to  it.  Desdemona,  who  was  often  called  out 
of  the  room  on  the  score  of  house-affairs,  could  not  have  heard 
Othello's  tale  intentively,  i.  e.  with  attention  to  all  its  parts. 
Again,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  Iliad,  B.  VI : 

"  Hector  intends  his  brother's  will ;  but  first"  &c. 
Again,  in  the  tenth  Book : 

" all  with  intentive  ear 

"  Converted  to  the  enemies'  tents — • — " 
Again,  in  the  eighth  Book  of  the  Odyssey: 

"  For  our  ships  know  th'  expressed  minds  of  men ; 
"  And  will  so  most  intentively  retaine 
"  Their  scopes  appointed,  that  they  never  erre." 
Again,  in  a  very  scarce  book  entitled  A  courtlie  Controversic 
of  Cupids    Cautels:    Contemning  Jiue   Tragicall  Histories,  &c. 
Translated  out  of  French  &c.  by  H.  W.  [Henry  Wotton]  4to. 
1578  :  "  These  speeches  collected  ententively  by  a  friend"  &c. 

STEEVENS. 

Shakspeare  has  already  used  the  word  in  the  same  sense  in  his 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor:  "  — she  did  course  over  my  exteriors 
with  such  a  greedy  intention."  See  p.  74,  n.  2. 


sc.  m.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         273 

Arid  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 : 5 
She  swore, — In  faith,  'twas  strange,6  'twas  passing 

strange ; 

'Twas  pitiful,  'twas  wondrous  pitiful : 
She  wish'd,  she  had  not  heard  it ;  yet  she  wish'd 


Distinctively  was  the  conjectural  emendation  of  the  editor  of 
the  second  folio,  who  never  examined  a  single  quarto  copy. 

MALONE. 

s a  ivorld  of  sighs :]    It  was  kisses  in  the  later  editions : 

but  this  is  evidently  the  true  reading.  The  lady  had  been  for- 
ward indeed  to  give  him  a  "world  of  kisses  upon  a  bare  recital  of 
his  story ;  nor  does  it  agree  with  the  following  lines.  POPE. 

Sighs  is  the  reading  of  the  quarto,  1622 ;  kisses  of  the  folio. 

MALONE. 

c  She  swore, — In  faith,  '/teas  strange,  &c.]  Here  (as  on  a 
former  occasion  respecting  the  prophecies  that  induced  the  ruin 
of  Macbeth,)  the  reader  must  be  indebted  to  Mr.  Whitaker's 
zealous  and  powerful  Vindication  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  8vo. 
Vol.  II.  p.  487,  edit.  1790 :  "  Let  not  the  modern  reader  be  hurt 
here  and  in  paragraph  X,  at  a  Lady,  a  Queen,  and  a  Mary, 
smearing.  To  aver  upon  Jaith  and  honour,  was  then  called 
swearing^  equally  with  a  solemn  appeal  to  GOD  ;  and  considered 
as  the  same  with  it."  This  is  plain  from  the  passage  immediately 
before  us :  "I  swear, — upon  my  faith  and  honour,"  she  says 
expressly.  She  also  says  she  does  this  "  again ;"  thus  referring 
to  the  commencement  of  this  letter,  where  she  "  appeals  to  her 
God  as  witness."  And  thus  Shakspeare  makes  Othello  to  re- 
present Desdemona,  as  acting ;  in  a  passage  that  I  have  often 
condemned,  before  I  saw  this  easy  explanation  of  it,  as  one 
among  many  proofs  of  Shakspeare's  inability  to  exhibit  the 
delicate  graces  of  female  conversation : 
She  swore,  Sfc. 

This  remark,  therefore,  serves  at  once  to  justify  Desdemona 
and  Queen  Mary,  and  to  show  what  kind  of  swearing  is  used  by 
both  ;  not  a  bold  and  masculine  oath  put  into  the  mouth  of  Des- 
demona, such  as  Elizabeth  frequently  used,  but  a  more  earnest 
affirmation  upon  her  faith  and  honour,  which  she  considered  as 
the  same  with  a  solemn  appeal  to  God.  STEEVENS. 
VOL.  XIX.  T 


274  OTHELLO,  ACT  r. 

That  heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man :  she  thank*d 

me  ; 

And  bade  me,  if  I  had  a  friend  that  lov'd  her, 
I  should  but  teach  him  how  to  tell  my  story, 
And  that  would  woo  her.     Upon  this  hint,  I  spake : 
She  lov'd  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  pass'd ; 
And  I  lov'd  her,  that  she  did  pity  them. 
This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  us'dj 
Here  comes  the  lady,  let  her  witness  it. 


Enter  DESDEMONA,  IAGO,  and  Attendants. 

DUKE.  I  think,  this  tale  would  win  my  daughter 

too.— 

Good  Brabantio, 

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  -y 

If  she  confess,  that  she  was  half  the  wooer, 
Destruction  on  my  head,7  if  my  bad  blame 
Light  on  the  man  ! — Come  hither,  gentle  mistress ; 
Do  you  perceive  in  all  this  noble  company, 
Where  most  you  owe  obedience  ? 

DES.  My  noble  father, 

I  do  perceive  here  a  divided  duty : 
To  you,  I  am  bound  for  life,  and  education ; 
My  life,  and  education,  both  do  learn  me 
How  to  respect  you ;  you  are  the  lord  of  duty,8 
I  am  hitherto  your  daughter :  But  here's  my  hus-, 
band; 

7  Destruction  &c.]     The  quartos  read — Destruction  light  on 
me.     STEEVENS. 

8  — ; — you  are  the  lord  of  duty, ,]   The  first  quarto  reads — you 
are  lord  of  all  my  duty.     STEEVENS. 


Sc.ni.      THE  MODE  OF  VENICE.         275 

And  so  much  duty  as  my  mother  show'd 
To  you,  preferring  you  before  her  father,9 
So  much  I  challenge  that  I  may  profess 
Due  to  the  Moor,  my  lord. 

BRA.  God  be  with  you ! — I  have  done :— ^ 

Please  it  your  grace,  on  to  the  state  affairs  ; 
I  had  rather  to  adopt  a  child,  than  get  it. — 
Gome  hither,  Moor : 

I  here  do  give  thee  that  with  all  my  heart, 
Which,1  but  thou  hast  already,  with  all  my  heart 
I  would  keep  from  thee. — For  your  sake,  jewel, 
I  am  glad  at  soul  I  have  no  other  child ; 
For  thy  escape  would  teach  me  tyranny, 
To  hang  clogs  on  them. — I  have  done,  my  lord. 

DUKE.  Let  me  speak  like  yourself;2  and  lay  a 

sentence, 
Which,  as  a  grise,3  or  step,  may  help  these  lovers 


9  And  so  much  duty  as  my  mother  sho'vo'd 

To  you,  preferring  you  before  her  father,  &c.~]  Perhaps 
Shakspeare  had  here  in  his  thoughts  the  answer  of  the  youngest 
daughter  of  Ina,  King  of  the  West  Saxons,  to  her  father,  which 
he  seems  to  have  copied  in  King  Lear.  See  Vol.  XVII.  p.  302. 

MALONK. 

1  Whicky  &c.]   This  line  is  omitted  in  the  first  quarto. 

STEEVENS. 

8  Let  me  speak  like  yourself ;~]  The  Duke  seems  to  mean, 
when  he  says  he  will  speak  like  Brabantio,  that  he  will  speak 
sententiously.  JOHNSOX. 

Let  me  speaJc  like  yourself ;~\  i.  e.  let  me  speak  as  yourself 
would  speak,  were  you  not  too  much  heated  with  passion. 

SIR  J.  REYNOLDS. 

3 as  a  grise, J     Grize  from  degrees.     A  grize  is  a  step. 

So,  in  Timon: 

" for  every  grize  of  fortune 

"  Is  smoothed  by  that  below." — 
Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Sejanus,  gives  the  original  word: 

"  Whom  when  he  saw  lie  spread  on  the  degrees.'* 
In  the  will  of  King  Henry  VI.  where  the  dimensions  of  King's 

T  2 


276  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

Into  your  favour.4 

When  remedies  are  past,  the  griefs  are  ended,5 

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.6 

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  :7 
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  bruis'd  heart  was  pierced  through  the 
ear.8 

College  chapel  at  Cambridge  are  set  down,  the  word  occurs,  as 
spelt  in  some  of  the  old  editions  of  Shakspeare:  "  — from  the 
provost's  stall,  unto  the  greece  called  Gradus  Chori,  90  feet." 

STEEVENS* 

4  Into  your  favour."]  This  is  wanting  in  the  folio,  but  found 
in  the  quarto.  JOHNSON. 

3  When  remedies  are  past,  the  griefs  are  ended,"]  This  our 
poet  has  elsewhere  expressed  [In  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  Act  V. 
sc.  ii.]  by  a  common  proverbial  sentence,  Past  cure  is  still  past 
care.  MALONE. 

a new  mischief  on.~\    The  quartos  read — more  mischief. 

STEEVENS. 

7  But  the  free  comfort  ivliich  from  thence  he  hears  :~\  But  the 
moral  precepts  of  consolation,  which  are  liberally  bestowed  on 
occasion  of  the  sentence.  JOHNSON. 

*  But  "words  are  luords  ;  I  never  yet  did  hear 
That  the  bruis'd  heart  tvas  pierced  through  the  ear.~\     The 


ac.  in.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.        277 

I  humbly  beseech  you,  proceed  to  the  affairs  of 
state. 


Duke  had  by  sage  sentences  been  exhorting  Brabantio  ta 
patience,  and  to  forget  the  grief  of  his  daughter's  stolen 
marriage,  to  which  Brabantio  is  made  very  pertinently  to  reply 
to  this  effect :  "  My  lord,  I  apprehend  very  well  the  wisdom  of 
your  advice ;  but  though  you  would  comfort  me,  words  are  but 
words;  and  the  heart,  already  bruised,  was  never  pierced,  or 
•mounded,  through  the  ear."  It  is  obvious  that  the  text  must  be 
restored  thus : 

That  the  bruis'd  heart  tuas  pieced  through  the  ear. 
i,  e.  that  the  wounds  of  sorrow  were  ever  cured,  or  a  man  made 
heart-whole  merely  by  the  words  of  consolation. 

WARBURTON. 

Shakspeare  was  continually  changing  his  first  expression  for 
another,  either  stronger  or  more  uncommon ;  so  that  very  often 
the  reader  who  has  not  the  same  continuity  or  succession  of  ideas, 
is  at  a  loss  for  its  meaning.  Many  of  Shakspeare's  uncouth 
strained  epithets  may  be  explained,  by  going  back  to  the  obvious 
and  simple  expression,  which  is  most  likely  to  occur  to  the  mind 
in  that  state.  I  can  imagine  the  first  mode  of  expression  that 
occurred  to  the  poet  was  this : 

"  The  troubled  heart  was  never  cured  by  words." 
To  give  it  poetical  force,  he  altered  the  phrase : 

"  The  wounded  heart  was  never  reached  through  the  ear." 

Wounded  heart  he  changed  to  broken,  and  that  to  bruised,  as 
a  more  common  expression.  Reached  he  altered  to  touched,  and 
the  transition  is  then  easy  to  pierced,  i.  e.  thoroughly  touched. 
\Vhen  the  sentiment  is  brought  to  this  state,  the  commentator, 
without  this  unravelling  clue,  expounds  piercing  the  heart  in  its 
common  acceptation  wounding  the  heart,  which  making  in  this 
place  nonsense,  is  corrected  to  pieced  the  heart,  which  is  very 
stiff,  and,  as  Polonius  says,  is  a  vile  phrase.  SIR  J.  REYNOLDS. 

Pierced  may  be  right.  The  consequence  of  a  bruise  is  some- 
times matter  collected,  and  this  can  no  way  be  cured  without 
piercing  or  letting  it  out.  Thus,  in  Hamlet: 

It  will  but  skin  and  film  the  ulcerous  place, 
Whiles  rank  corruption  mining  all  within, 
Infects  unseen." 


Again 


This  is  th*  imposthume  of  much  wealth  and  peace, 
That  inward  breaks,  and  shows  no  cause  without, 
Why  the  man  dies." 


278  OTHELLO, 


The  Turk  with  a  most  mighty  prepara- 
tion makes  for  Cyprus  :  —  Othello,  the  fortitude  of 

Our  author  might  have  had  in  his  memory  the  following 
quaint  title  of  an  old  book  :  i.  e.  "  A  lytell  treatyse  called  the 
dysputacyon,  or  the  complaynte  of  the  herte  through  p'erced  with 
the  lokynge  of  the  eye.  Imprynted  at  Londo  in  Fletestrete  at  ye 
sygne  of  the  sonne  by  Wynkyn  de  Worde." 

Again,  in  A  newe  and  a  mery  Interlude  concernyng  Pleasure 
and  Payne  in  Love,  made  by  Ihon.  Heywood  :  Fol.  Rastal, 
1534: 

"  Thorough  myne  erys  dyrectly  to  myne  harte 
"  Percyth  his  wordys  evyn  lyke  as  many  sperys." 

STEEVEKS. 

But  words  are  words;  I  never  yet  did  hear, 
That  the  bruis'd  heart  mas  pierced  through  the  ear.  ~]  These 
moral  precepts,  says  Brabantio,  may  perhaps  be  founded  in  wis- 
dom, but  they  are  of  no  avail.  Words  after  all  are  but  words  ; 
and  I  never  yet  heard  that  consolatory  speeches  could  reach  and 
penetrate  the  afflicted  heart,  through  the  medium  of  the  ear. 

Brabantio  here  expresses  the  same  sentiment  as  the  father  of 
Hero  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  when  he  derides  the  attempts 
of  those  comforters  who  in  vain  endeavour  to  — 

"  Charm  ache  with  air,  and  agony  with  words." 
Our  author  has  in  various  places  shown  a  fondness  for  this 
antithesis  between  the  heart  and  ear.     Thus,  in  his  Venus  and 
Adonis: 

"  This  dismal  cry  rings  sadly  in  her  ear, 
"  Through  which  it  enters,  to  surprise  her  heart" 
Again,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing:   "  My  cousin  tells  him 
in  his  ear,  that  he  is  in  her  heart." 
Again,  in  Cymbeline: 

"  -  1  have  such  a  heart  as  both  mine  ears 
"  Must  not  in  haste  abuse." 
Again,  in  his  Rape  of  Lucrece: 

*'  His  ear  her  prayers  admits,  but  his  heart  granteth 
"  No  penetrable  entrance  to  her  plaining." 

A  doubt  has  been  entertained  concerning  the  word  pierced, 
which  Dr.  Warburton  supposed  to  mean  wounded,  and  therefore 
substituted  pieced  in  its  room.  But  pierced  is  merely  a  figura- 
tive expression,  and  means  not  wounded,  but  penetrated,  in  a 
metaphorical  sense;  thoroughly  affected;  as  in  the  following 
passage  in  Shakspeare's  46th  Sonnet  : 

"  My  heart  doth  plead,  that  thou  in  him  dost  lie  ; 
"  A  closet  never  piercd  with  crystal  eyes." 


sc.m.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.        279 

tlie  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 
n  more  safer  Voice  on  you  :  you  must  therefore  be 
content  to  slubber  the  gloss  of  your  new  fortunes9 

So  also,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost: 

"  Honest  plain  words  best  pierce  the  ear  of  grief." 
Again,  in  his  Rape  of  Lucrece: 

"  With  sweetest  touches  pierce  your  mistress'  ear." 
In  a  word,  a  heart  pierced  through  the  ear,  is  a  heart  which  (to 
use  our  poet's  words  elsewhere,)  has  granted  a  penetrable  en- 
trance to  the  language  of  consolation.     So,  in  The  Mirrour  for 
Magistrates,  1575: 

"  My  piteous  plaint  —  the  hardest  heart  may  pierce." 
Spenser  has  used  the  word  exactly  in  the  same  figurative  sense 
in  which  it  is  here  employed  ;  Fairy  Queen,  B.  VI.  c.  ix  : 

"  Whylest  thus  he  talkt,  the  knight  with  greedy  eare 

"  Hong  still  upon  his  melting  mouth  atteht  ; 

"  Whose  sensefull  ivords  empierst  his  hart  so  neare, 

"  That  he  was  rapt  with  double  ravishment." 
And,  in  his  fourth  Book,  c.  viii.  we  have  the  vety  words  of  the 
text: 

"Her 


"  Which,  passing  through  the  eares,   would  pierce   the 

hart." 

Some  persons  have  supposed  that  pierced  when  applied  meta- 
phorically to  the  heart,  can  only  be  used  to  express  pain  ;  that 
the  poet  might  have  said,  pierced  with  grief,  or  pierced  with 
plaints,  &c.  but  that  to  talk  of  piercing  a  heart  with  consolatory 
speeches,  is  a  catachresis  :  but  the  passage  above  quoted  from 
Spenser's  sixth  Book  shows  that  there  is  no  ground  for  the  ob- 
jection.    So  also,  in  Marlowe's  Tamburlaine,  1590,  we  find  — 
"  Nor  thee  nor  them,  thrice  noble  Tamburlaine, 
"  Shall  want  my  heart  to  be  -with  gladness  pierc'd." 

MALONE. 

9  -  to  slubber  the  gloss  of  your  new  fortunes  —  ~\  To  slub- 
ber, on  this  occasion,  is  to  obscure.  So,  in  the  First  Part  of 
Jeronimo,  &c.  1605: 

"  The  evening  too  begins  to  slubber  day." 
The  latter  part  of  this  metaphor  has  already  occurred  in  Macbeth  : 
"  —  -  --  -~-  golden  opinions  - 
"  Which  should  be  worn  now  in  their  newest  gloss." 

STEEVENS. 


280  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

with  this  more  stubborn  and  boisterous  expedi- 
tion. 

OTH.  The  tyrant  custom,  most  grave  senators, 
Hath  made  the  flinty  and  steel  couch  of  war 
My  thrice-driven  bed  of  down  : l  I  do  agnize  ~ 
A  natural  and  prompt  alacrity, 
I  find  in  hardness ;  and  do  undertake 
These  present  wars3  against  the  Ottomites. 
Most  humbly  therefore  bending  to  your  state, 
I  crave  fit  disposition  for  my  wife  ; 
Due  reference  of  place,  and  exhibition  j* 

•  thrice  driven  bed  of  down  :~\  A  driven  bed,  is  a  bed  for 


which  the  feathers  are  selected,  by  driving  with  a  fan,  which 
separates  the  light  from  the  heavy.  JOHNSON. 

* I  do  agnize — ]  i.  e.  acknowledge,  confess,  avow.    So, 

in  A  Summarie  Report,  &c.  of  the  Speaker  relative  to  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots,  4to.  1586:  "  —  a  repentant  convert,  agnising 
her  Maiesties  great  mercie"  &c.  Again,  in  the  old  play  of 
Cambyses  : 

"  The  tenor  of  your  princely  will,  from  you  for  to  agnize." 
In  this  instance,  however,  it  signifies  to  know ;  as  likewise  in 
the  following,  from  the  same  piece : 

"  Why  so  ?  I  pray  you  let  me  agnize."     STEEVENS. 

It  is  so  defined  [i.  e.  to  acknowledge]  in  Bullokar's  English 
Expositor,  Svo.  1616.     MALONE. 

3  These  present  ivars — ]   The  quarto,  1622,  and  the  folio,  by 
an  error  of  the  press,  have — this  present  wars.     For  the  emen- 
dation I  am  responsible.     MALONE. 

4  I  crave  Jit  disposition  for  my  'wife; 

Due  reference  of  place,  and  exhibition  ;  &.c.~]  I  desire,  that 
proper  disposition  be  made  for  my  wife,  that  she  may  have  pre- 
cedency and  revenue,  accommodation  and  company,  suitable  to 
her  rank. 

For  reference  of  place,  the  old  quartos  have  reverence,  which 
Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  has  received.     I  should  read : 
Due  preference  of  place, .     JOHNSON. 

Exhibition  is  allowance.     The  word  is  at  present  used  only  at 
the  universities. 

So,  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona: 


'K.m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          281 

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. 

OTH.  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  my  unfolding  lend  a  gracious  ear  ;5 
And  let  me  find  a  charter  in  your  voice,6 
To  assist  my  simpleness.7 

DUKE.  What  would  you,  Desdemona? 

DES.  That  I  did  love  the  Moor  to  live  with  him, 
My  downright  violence  and  storm  of  fortunes8 


"  What  maintenance  he  from  his  friends  receives, 
"  Like  exhibition  thou  shalt  have  from  me." 
Again,  in  King  Edward  IV.  by  Heywood,  1626 : 
"  Of  all  the  exhibition  yet  bestow'd, 
"  This  woman's  liberality  likes  me  best."     STEEVENS. 

See  Vol.  XVII.  p.  336,  n.  7.    MA  LONE. 

s  -. Most  gracious  duke, 

To  my  unfolding  lend  a  gracious  ear;~\  Thus  the  quarto, 
1622.  The  folio,  to  avoid  the  repetition  of  the  same  epithet, 
reads — your  prosperous  ear ;  i.e.  your  propitious  ear.  STEEVENS. 

G. a  charter  in  your  voice,"}     Let  your  favour  privilege 

me.    JOHNSON. 

7  To  assist  my  simpleness. ]  The  first  quarto  reads  this  as  an 
unfinished  sentence : 

And  if  my  simpleness .     STEEVENS. 

9  My  downright  -violence  and  storm  of  fortunes — J  Violence 
is  not  violence  suffered,  but  violence  acted.  Breach  of  common 
rules  and  obligations.  The  old  quarto  has  scorn  of  fortune, 
which  is  perhaps  the  true  reading.  JOHNSON. 

The  same  mistake  of  scorn  for  storm  had  also  happened  in  the 
old  copies  of  Troilus  and  Cressida  ; 


282  OTHELLO,  ACT  L 

May  trumpet  to  the  world ;  my  heart's  subdued9 
Even  to  the  very  quality  of  my  lord:1 

as  when  the  sun  doth  light  a  scorn," 


instead  of  a— storm.  See  Vol.  XV.  p.  235,  ft.  8;  and  Vol.  XVII. 
p.  445,  n.  3. 

I  am  also  inclined  to  read  —  storm  of  fort  unes,  on  account  of 
the  words  that  follow,  viz.  "  May  trumpet  to  the  world." 

So,  in  King  Henry  IV.  Part  I : 

" the  southern  tuind 

"  Doth  play  the  trumpet  to  his  purposes.** 

I  concur  with  Dr.  Johnson  in  his  explanation  of  the  passage 
before  us.  Mr.  M.  Mason  is  of  the  same  opinion,  and  properly 
observes,  that  by  the  storm  of  fortune,  "  the  injuries  of  fortune" 
are  not  meant,  "  but  Desdemona's  high-spirited  braving  of 
her.'*  STEEVENS. 

So,  in  King  Henry  VIII ; 

"  An  old  man  broken  with  the  storms  of  state." 

The  expression  in  the  text  is  found  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen, 
Book  VI.  c.  ix: 

"  Give  leave  awhile,  good  father,  in  this  shore 
"  To  rest  my  barcke,  which  hath  bene  beaten  late 
"  With  stormes  of  fortune  and  tempestuous  fate." 
And  Bacon,  in  his  History  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh,  has  used 
the  same  language :  "  The  king  in  his  account  of  peace  and 
calms  did  much  overcast  Misfortunes,  which  proved  for  many 
years  together  full  of  broken  seas,  tides,  and  tempests" 

Mr.  M.  Mason  objects,  that  Mr.  Steevens  has  not  explained 
these  words.  Is  any  explanation  wanting  ?  or  can  he,  who  has 
read  in  Hamlet,  that  a  judicious  player  "  in  the  tempest  and 
tvhirhvind  of  his  passion  should  acquire  and  beget  a  tempe- 
rance ;"  who  has  heard  Falstaff  wish  for  a  tempest  of  provoca- 
tion ;  and  finds  in  Troilus  and  Crcssida — "  in  the  wind  and  tem- 
pest of  her  frown,"  be  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  meaning  of  a 
storm  of  fortunes?  By  her  downright  violence  and  storm  of 
fortunes,  Desdemona  without  doubt  means,  the  bold  and  decisive 
measure  she  had  taken,  of  following  the  dictates  of  passion,  and 
giving  herself  to  the  Moor ;  regardless  of  her  parent's  displea- 
sure, the  forms  of  her  country,  and  the  future  inconvenience 
she  might  be  subject  to,  by  "  tying  her  duty,  beauty,  wit,  and 
fortunes,  in  an  extravagant  and  wheeling  stranger,  of  here  and 
every  where." 

On  looking  into  Mr.  Edwards's  remarks,  I  find  he  explains 
these  words  nearly  in  the  same  manner.  "  Downright  violence, 
(says  he,)  means,  the  unbridled  impetuosity  with  which  her  pas- 


so.  HI.  THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.  283 
I  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind;3 

sion  hurried  her  on  to  this  unlawful  marriage ;  and  storm  of  for- 
tunes may  signify  the  hazard  she  thereby  ran,  of  making  ship- 
wreck of  her  worldly  interest.  Both  very  agreeable  to  what 
she  says  a  little  lower — 

" to  his  honours,  and  his  valiant  parts 

"  Did  I  my  soul  and fortunes  consecrate."     MALONE. 

All  I  can  collect  from  Mr.  Malone's  explanation  is,  that  Shak- 
speare  has  made  use  of  the  word  tempest  in  three  different  pas- 
sages, none  of  which  are  applicable  to  that  in  question. 

M.  MASON. 

9 my  heart's  subdued 

Even  to  £c.]  So,  in  one  of  the  Letters  falsely  imputed  to 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots :  "  —  and  my  thoghtes  are  so  willyngly 
subduit  unto  yours"  &c.  STEEVENS. 

1  Even  to  the  very  quality  of  my  lord:~\  The  first  quarto 
reads — 

Even  to  the  utmost  pleasure,  $c.     STEEVENS. 

Quality  here  means  profession.  "  I  am  so  much  enamoured 
of  Othello,  that  I  am  even  willing  to  endure  all  the  inconvenien- 
cies  incident  to  a  military  life,  and  to  attend  him  to  the  wars."— 
"  I  cannot  mervaile,  (said  Lord  Essex  to  Mr.  Ashton,  a  Puritan 
preacher  who  was  sent  to  him  in  the  Tower,)  though  my  protes- 
tations are  not  believed  of  my  enemies,  when  they  so  little  pre- 
vailed with  a  man  of  your  quality." 

That  this  is  the  meaning,  appears  not  only  from  the  reading  of 
the  quarto, — "  my  heart's  subdued,  even  to  the  utmost  pleasure 
of  my  lord,  i.  e.  so  as  to  prompt  me  to  go  with  him  wherever  he 
wishes  I  should  go,"  but  also  from  the  whole  tenour  of  Desde- 
mona's  speech ;  the  purport  of  which  is,  that  as  she  had  married 
a  soldier,  so  she  was  ready  to  accompany  him  to  the  wars,  and  to 
consecrate  her  soul  and  fortunes  to  his  honours,  and  his  valiant 
parts  ;  i.  e.  to  attend  him  wherever  his  military  character  and  his 
love  of  fame  should  call  him.  MALONE. 

That  quality  here  signifies  the  Moorish  complexion  of  Othello, 
and  not  his  military  profession,  is  obvious  from  what  immediately 
follows  : 

"  I  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind :" 
$nd  also  from  what  the  Duke  says  to  Brabantio: 
"  If  virtue  no  delighted  beauty  lack, 
"  Your  son-in-law  is  far  more  fair  than  black" 
Desdemdna,  in  this  speech  asserts,  that  the  virtues  of  Othello 
Uad  subdued  her  heart,  in  spite  of  his  visage ;  and  that,  to  his 


284  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

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 

By  his  dear  absence :  Let  me  go  with  him. 

0 TH.  Your  voices,  lords : 3 — -'beseech  you,  let 

her  will 

Have  a  free  way. 

Vouch  with  me,  heaven;4  I  therefore  beg  it  not, 
To  please  the  palate  of  my  appetite ; 
ISIor  to  comply  with  heat,  the  young  affects, 
In  my  distinct  and  proper  satisfaction  j 5 

rank  and  accomplishments  as  a  soldier,  she  had  consecrated  her 
soul  and  her  fortunes.     HENLEY. 

*  I sato  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind;~\  It  must  raise  no  won- 
der, that  I  loved  a  man  of  an  appearance  so  little  engaging  ;  I 
saw  his  face  only  in  his  mind ;  the  greatness  of  his  character 
reconciled  me  to  his  form.  JOHNSON. 

3  Your  voices,  lords :]     The  folio  reads, — Let  her  have  your 
voice.     STEEVENS. 

4  Vouch  tvith  me,  heaven;"]     Thus  the  second  quarto  and  the 
folio.     STEEVENS. 

These  words  are  not  in  the  original  copy,  1622.     MALONE. 

4  Nor  to  comply  tvith  heat,  the  young  affects, 

In  my  distinct  and  proper  satisfactions']  [Old  copies — 
defunct.']  As  this  has  been  hitherto  printed  and  stopped,  it  seems 
to  me  a  period  of  as  stubborn  nonsense  as  the  editors  have  obtru- 
ded upon  poor  Shakspeare  throughout  his  works.  What  a  pre- 
posterous creature  is  this  Othello  made,  to  fall  in  love  with  and 
marry  a  fine  young  lady,  when  appetite  and  heat,  and  proper  sa- 
tisfaction, are  dead  and  defunct  in  him !  (For,  defunct  signifies 
nothing  else,  that  I  know  of,  either  primitively  or  metaphorical- 
ly:) But  if  we  may  take  Othello's  own  word  in  the  affair,  he  was 
not  reduced  to  this  fatal  state  : 

" or,  for  I  am  declin'd 

"  Into  the  vale  of  years ;  yet  that's  not  much" 
Again,  Why  should  our  poet  say,  (for  so  he  says  as  the  passage 


x.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          285 
But  to  be  free  and  bounteous  to  her  mind  : 


has  been  pointed)  that  the  young  affect  heat  ?  Youth,  certainly, 
has  it,  and  has  no  occasion  or  pretence  of  affecting  it.  And, 
again,  after  defunct,  would  he  add  so  absurd  a  collateral  epithet 
as  proper  ?  But  affects  was  not  designed  here  as  a  verb,  and  de- 

Jiinct  was  not  designed  here  at  all.  I  have  by  reading  distinct 
for  defunct,  rescued  the  poet's  text  from  absurdity ;  and  this  I 
take  to  be  the  tenor  of  what  he  would  say :  "  I  do  not  beg  her 
company  with  me,  merely  to  please  myself;  nor  to  indulge  the 
heat  and  affects  (i.  e.  affections)  of  a  new-married  man,  in  my 
own  distinct  and  proper  satisfaction  ;  but  to  comply  with  her  in 
her  request,  and  desire,  of  accompanying  me."  Affects  for  of 

fections,  our  author  in  several  other  passages  uses.   THEOBALD. 

Nor  to  comply  with  heat,  the  young  affects 

In  my  defunct  and  proper  satisfaction:^  \.  e.  with  that  heat 
and  new  affections  which  the  indulgence  of  my  appetite  has 
raised  and  created.  This  is  the  meaning  of  defunct,  which  has 
made  all  the  difficulty  of  the  passage.  WARBURTON. 

I  do  not  think  that  Mr.  Theobald's  emendation  clears  the  text 
from  embarrassment,  though  it  is  with  a  little  imaginary  im- 
provement received  by  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  who  reads  thus : 

Nor  to  comply  with  heat  affects  the  young 

In  my  distinct  and  proper  satisfaction. 

Dr.  Warburton's  explanation  is  not  more  satisfactory :  what 
made  the  difficulty  will  ^continue  to  make  it.  I  read : 

/  beg  it  not, 

To  please  the  palate  of  my  appetite, 

Nor  to  comply  with  heat  (the  young  affects 

In  me  defunct)  and  proper  satisfaction; 

But  to  be  free  and  bounteous  to  her  mind. 

Affects  stands  here,  not  for  love,  but  for  passions,  for  that  by 
which  any  thing  is  affected.  /  ask  it  not,  says  he,  to  please  ap- 
petite, or  satisfy  loose  desires,  the  passions  of  youth  which  I  have 
now  outlived,  or  for  any  particular  gratification  of  myself,  but 
merely  that  I  may  indulge  the  wishes  of  my  wife. 

Mr.  Upton  had,  before  me,  changed  my  to  me;  but  he  has 
printed  young  effects,  not  seeming  to  know  that  affects  could  be 
a  noun.  JOHNSON. 

Mr.  Theobald  has  observed  the  impropriety  of  making  Othello- 
confess,  that  all  youthful  passions  were  defunct  in  him ;  and  Sir 
Thomas  Hanmer's  reading  [distinct~\  may,  I  think,  be  received 
with  only  a  slight  alteration.  I  would  read: 


286  OTHELLO, 

And  heaven  defend6  your  good  souls,  that  you  think 

/  beg  it  not, 

To  please  the  palate  of  my  appetite, 

Nor  to  comply  with  heat,  and  young  affects, 

In  my  distinct  and  proper  satisfaction  ; 

But  to  be  &c. 

Affects  stands  for  affections,  and  is  used  in  that  sense  by  Ben 
Jonson,  in  The  Case  is  Altered,  1609: 

" I  shall  not  need  to  urge 

"  The  sacred  purity  of  our  affects.1* 
Again,  in  Loves  Labours  Lost : 

"  For  every  man  with  his  affects  is  born." 
Again,  in  The  Wars  of  Cyrus,  1594: 

"  The  frail  affects  and  errors  of  my  youth." 
Again,  in  Middleton's  Inner  Temple  Masque,  1619: 

"  No  doubt  affects  will  be  subdu'd  by  reason." 
There  is,  however,  in  The  Bondman,  by  Massinger,  a  passage 
which  seems  to  countenance  and  explain — 

the  young  affects 

In  me  defunct  fyc. 

" youthful  heats, 

"  That  look  no  further  than  your  outward  form, 

"  Are  long  since  buried  in  me." 
Timoleon  is  the  speaker. 
In  King  Henry  V.  also,  we  have  the  following  passage : 

"  The  organs,  though  defunct  and  dead  before, 

"  Break  up  their  drowsy  grave, ."     STEEVENS. 

I  would  venture  to  make  the  two  last  lines  change  places : 

I  therefore  beg  it  not, 

To  please  the  palate  of  my  appetite, 

Nor  to  comply  'with  heat,  the  young  affects; 

But  to  be  free  and  bounteous  to  her  mind, 

In  my  defunct  and  proper  satisfaction. 

And  would  then  recommend  it  to  consideration,  whether  the 
word  defunct  (which  would  be  the  only  remaining  difficulty,)  is 
not  capable  of  a  signification,  drawn  from  the  primitive  sense  of 
its  Latin  original,  which  would  very  well  agree  with  the  context. 

TYRWHITT. 

I  would  propose  to  read — In  my  defend,  or  dcfencd,  &c.  i.  e. 
I  do  not  beg  her  company  merely  to  please  the  palate  of  my  ap- 
petite, nor  to  comply  with  the  heat  of  lust  which  the  young  man 
affects,  i.  e.  loves  and  is  fond  of,  in  a  gratification  which  I  have 
by  marriage  defencd,  or  inclosed  and  guarded,  and  made  my  own 


sc.  in.     THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          287 

I  will  your  serious  and  great  business  scant, 

property.  Unproper  beds,  in  this  play,  means,  beds  not  peculiar 
or  appropriate  to  the  right  owner,  but  common  to  their  occu- 
piers. In  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  the  marriage  vow  was 
represented  by  Ford  as  the  ward  and  defence  of  purity  or  conju- 
gal fidelity:  "  I  could  drive  her  then  from  the  ward  of  her  pu- 
rity, her  reputation,  and  a  thousand  other  her  defences,  which 
are  now  too  strongly  embattled  against  me."  The  word  affect 
is  more  generally,  among  ancient  authors,  taken  in  the  construc- 
tion which  I  have  given  to  it,  than  as  Mr.  Theobald  would  in- 
terpret it.  It  is  so  in  this  very  play:  "  Not  to  affect  many  pro- 
posed matches,"  means  not  to  like,  or  be  fond  of  many  proposed 
matches. 

I  am  persuaded  that  the  word  defunct  must  be  at  all  events 
ejected.  Othello  talks  here  of  his  appetite,  and  it  is  very  plain 
that  Desdemona  to  her  death  was  fond  of  him  after  wedlock,  and, 
that  he  loved  her.  How  then  could  his  conjugal  desires  be  dead 
or  defunct  ?  or  how  could  they  be  defunct  or  discharged  and  per- 
formed when  the  marriage  was  consummated  ?  TOLLET. 

Othello  here  supposes,  that  his  petition  for  the  attendance  of 
his  bride,  might  be  ascribed  to  one  of  these  two  motives: — 
either  solicitude  for  the  enjoyment  of  an  unconsummated  and 
honourable  marriage  ; — or  the  mere  gratification  of  a  sensual  and 
selfish  passion.  But,  as  neither  was  the  true  one,  he  abjures 
them  both : 

"  Vouch  with  me  heaven,  I  therefore  beg  it  NOT 

"  To  please  the  palate  of  my  appetite; 

*'  NOR  to  comply  with  heat  ( 

" )  and  proper  satisfaction." 

The  former,  having  nothing  in  it  unbecoming,  he  simply  dis- 
claims ;  but  the  latter,  ill  according  with  his  season  of  life  (for 
Othello  was  now  declined  into  the  vale  of  years}  he  assigns  a  rea- 
son for  renouncing — 

the  young  affects, 

In  me  defunct. 

As  if  he  had  said,  "  I  \\si\- e  outlined  that  wayward  impulse  of  pas* 
sion,  by  'which  younger  men  are  stimulated:  those 

** youthful  heats, 

"  That  look  no  further  than  the  OUTWARD  FORM", 

"  Are  long  since  buried  in  me." 
The  supreme  object  of  my  heart  is — 

to  be  free  and  bounteous  to  her  MIND. 

By  YOUNG  affects,  the  poet  clearly  means  those  "  YOUTHFUL 
fasts"  Era^NEIiTEPIKA^  ETfdw^c,  cupiditates  rei  novae,  thence 


288  OTHELLO,  ACTL 

For  she  is  with  me :  No,  when  light-wing'd  toys 


JUVENILES,  and  therefore  EFFRENES  cupiditates,'}  which  St. 
Paul  admonishes  Timothy  to  flee  from,  and  the  Romans  to 
MORTIFY.  HENLEY. 

For  the  emendation  now  offered,  [disjunct"]  I  am  responsible. 
Some  emendation  is  absolutely  necessary,  and  this  appears  to  me 
the  least  objectionable  of  those  which  have  been  proposed.  Dr. 
Johnson,  in  part  following  Mr.  Upton,  reads  and  regulates  the 
passage  thus : 

Not  to  comply  with  heat  (the  young  affects 
In  me  defunct}  and  proper  satisfaction. 

To  this  reading  there  are,  I  think,  three  strong  objections. 
The  first  is,  the  suppression  of  the  word  being  before  defunct, 
which  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  sense,  and  of  which  the 
omission  is  so  harsh,  that  it  affords  an  argument  against  the  pro- 
bability of  the  proposed  emendation.  The  second  and  the 
grand  objection  is,  that  it  is  highly  improbable  that  Othello  should 
declare  on  the  day  of  his  marriage  that  heat  and  the  youthful  af- 
fections were  dead  or  defunct  in  him;  that  he  had  outlived  the 
passions  of  youth.  He  himself  ( as  Mr.  Theobald  has  observed, ) 
informs  us  afterwards,  that  he  is  "  declined  into  the  vale  of 
years ;"  but  adds,  at  the  same  time,  "  yet  that's  not  much." 
This  surely  is  a  decisive  proof  that  the  text  is  corrupt.  My  third 
objection  to  this  regulation  is,  that  by  the  introduction  of  a  pa- 
renthesis, which  is  not  found  in  the  old  copies,  the  words  and 
proper  satisfaction  are  so  unnaturally  disjoined  from  those  with 
which  they  are  connected  in  sense,  as  to  form  a  most  lame 
and  impotent  conclusion  ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  aukwardness  of 
using  the  word  proper  without  any  possessive  pronoun  prefixed 
to  it. 

All  these  difficulties  are  done  away,  by  retaining  the  original 
word  my,  and  reading  disjunct,  instead  of  defunct;  and  the 
meaning  will  be,  I  ask  it  not  for  the  sake  of  my  separate  and  pri- 
vate enjoyment,  by  the  gratification  of  appetite,  but  that  I  may 
indulge  the  wishes  of  my  wife. 

The  young  affects,  may  either  mean  the  affections  or  passions 
of  youth,  ( considering  affects  as  a  substantive, )  or  these  words 
may  be  connected  with  heat,  which  immediately  precedes :  "  I 
ask  it  not,  for  the  purpose  of  gratifying  that  appetite  which  pe- 
culiarly stimulates  the  young."  So,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen, 
B. V.  c.  ix  : 

"  Layes  ofsweete  love,  and  youth's  delightful  heat" 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt  "  recommends  it  to  consideration,  whether  the 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          289 
Of  featherM  Cupid  seel  with  wanton  dulness 


word  defunct,  is  not  capable  of  a  signification,  drawn  from  the 
primitive  sense  of  its  Latin  original,  which  would  very  well 
agree  with  the  context." 

The  mere  English  reader  is  to  be  informed,  that  defunctus  in. 
Latin  signifies  performed,  accomplished,  as  well  as  dead  :  but  is 
it  probable  that  Shakspeare  was  apprized  of  its  bearing  that  sig- 
nification ?  In  Bullokar's  English  Expositor,  8vo.  1616,  the 
work  of  a  physician  and  a  scholar,  defunct  is  only  defined  by  the 
word  dead;  nor  has  it,  I  am  confident,  any  other  meaning  an- 
nexed to  it  in  any  dictionary  or  book  of  the  time.  Besides ; 
how,  as  Mr.  Toilet  has  observed,  could  his  conjugal  duties  be 
said  to  be  discharged  or  performed,  at  a  time  when  his  marriage 
was  not  yet  consummated  ? — On  this  last  circumstance,  how-, 
ever,  I  do  not  insist,  as  Shakspeare  is  very  licentious  in  the  use 
of  participles,  and  might  have  employed  the  past  for  the  pre- 
sent :  but  the  former  objection  appears  to  me  fatal. 

Proper  is  here  and  in  other  places  used  for  peculiar.  In  this 
play  we  have  improper  beds  ;  not  peculiar  to  the  rightful  owner, 
but  common  to  him  and  others. 

In  the  present  tragedy  we  have  many  more  uncommon  words 
than  disjunct :  as  facile,  agnize,  acerb,  sequestration,  injointed, 
congregated,  guttered,  sequent,  extincted,  exsufflicate,  indignt 
segregated,  &c. — lago  in  a  subsequent  scene  says  to  Othello, 
"  let  us  be  conjunctive  in  our  revenge ;"  and  our  poet  has  con- 
junct in  King  Lear,  and  disjoin  and  disjunctive  in  two  other 
plays.  In  King  John  we  have  adjunct  used  as  an  adjective : 

"  Though  that  my  death  be  adjunct  to  the  act, — ." 
and  in  Hamlet  we  find  disjoint  employed  in  like  manner : 

"  Or  thinking 

"  Our  state  to  be  disjoint,  and  out  of  frame." 

MALONE. 

As  it  is  highly  probable  this  passage  will  prove  a  lasting  source 
of  doubt  and  controversy,  the  remarks  of  all  the  commentators 
are  left  before  the  publick.  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  distinct,  how- 
ever, appearing  to  me  as  apposite  a  change  as  Mr.  Malone's  sy- 
nonymous disjunct,  I  have  placed  the  former  in  our  text,  though 
perhaps  the  old  reading  ought  not  to  have  been  disturbed,  as  in 
the  opinion  of  more  than  one  critick  it  has  been  satisfactorily 
explained  by  Dr.  Johnson  and  Mr.  Henley.  STEEVENS. 

6  defend  &c.]   To  defend,  is  to  forbid.    So,  in  Chaucer's 

Wife  of  Bathes  Prologue,  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  edit.  ver.  5641 : 

VOL.  xix.  y 


290  OTHELLO, 

My  speculative  and  active  instruments,7 
That  my  disports  corrupt  and  taint  my  business, 
Let  housewives  make  a  skillet  of  my  helm, 
And  all  indign  and  base  adversities 
Make  head  against  my  estimation  !8 

"  Wher  can  ye  seen  in  any  maner  age 
"  That  highe  God  defended  mariage, 
"  By  expresse  word  ?" 
From  defendre,  Fr.     STEEVENS. 

7  •  when  ligkt-tving'd  toys 

Offeather'd  Cupid  seel  toith  wanton  dulness 
My  speculative  and  active  instruments, ]  Thus  the  folio,  ex« 
cept  that  instead  of  active  instruments,  it  has  qffic'd  instrument. 

MALONE, 

For  a  particular  explanation  of  the  verb — to  seel,  the  reader 
is  referred  to  Vol.  X.  p.  167,  n.  1. 
The  quarto  reads : 

token  light-winged  toys 

And  feather* d  Cupid  foils  with  wanton  dulness 
My  speculative  and  active  instruments — . 

All  these  words  (in  either  copy)  mean  no  more  than  this: — 
When  the  pleasures  and  idle  toys  of  love  make  me  unfit  either 
for  seeing  the  duties  of  my  office,  or  for  the  ready  performance 
of  them,  Sfc. 

So,  in  Chapman's  translation  of  the  eighteenth  Book  of  Ho- 
mer's Odyssey: 

" and  were  palsied 

"  In  his  mind's  instruments — ."     STEEVENS. 

Speculative  instruments,  in  Shakspeare's  language,  are  the 
eyes  ;  and  active  instruments,  the  hands  and  feet.  So,  in  Co- 
riolanus : 

" where,  the  other  instruments 

"  Did  see,  hear,  devise,  instruct,  walk,  feel,"  &c. 
To  seel  is  to  close  the  eyelids  of  a  hawk  by  running  a  thread 
through  them.    As  it  is  here  metaphorically  used,  it  applies  very 
properly  to  the  speculative  instruments ;  but  foils,  the  reading 
of  the  quarto,  agrees  better  with  active  instruments. 

Wanton  dulness  is  dulness  arising  from  wanton  indulgences. 

MALONE. 

my  estimation  !]    Thus  the  folio ;  the  quarto — reputa* 


tion.     STEEVENS. 


sc.m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         291 

DUKE.  Be  it  as  you  shall  privately  determine, 
Either  for  her  stay,  or  going:  the  affair  cries — 

haste, 

And  speed  must  answer  it;  you  must  hence  to- 
night. 

DBS.  To-night,  my  lord  ? 

DUKE.  This  night. 

OTH.  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, 
As  doth  import  you. 

OTH.  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. — And,  noble  signior, 

[To  BRABANTIO. 

If  virtue  no  delighted  beauty  lack,9 
Your  son-in-law  is  far  more  fair  than  black. 


9  If  virtue  no  delighted  beauty  lack,"]  The  meaning,  I  be- 
lieve, is,  if  virtue  comprehends  every  thing  in  itself,  then  your 
virtuous  son-in-law  of  course  is  beautiful :  he  has  that  beauty 
which  delights  every  one.  Delighted,  for  delighting;  Shak- 
speare  often  uses  the  active  and  passive  participles  indiscrimi- 
nately. Of  this  practice  I  have  already  given  many  instances. 
The  same  sentiment  seems  to  occur  in  Twelfth- Night.- 

"  In  nature  is  no  blemish,  but  the  mind; 

"  None  can  be  call'd  deform'd,  but  the  unkind: 

"  Virtue  is  beauty ."     STEEVENS. 

U  2 


292  OTHELLO  ACT  i. 


.  Adieu,  brave  Moor!  use  Desdemona  well. 

BRA.  Look  to  her,  Moor  j  have  a  quick  eye  to 

see  ;x 
She  has  deceiv'd  her  father,  and  may  thee. 

\_Exeunt  Duke,  Senators,  Officers,  8$c. 

OTH.  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  after2  in  the  best  advantage.5  — 
Come,  Desdemona  ;  I  have  but  an  hour 
Of  love,  of  worldly  matters  and  direction, 
To  spend  with  thee  :  we  must  obey  the  time. 

[Exeunt  OTHELLO  and  DESDEMONA. 

ROD.  lago. 

IAGO.  What  say'st  thou,  noble  heart  ? 
ROD.  What  will  I  do,  thinkest  thou  ? 
IAGO.  Why,  go  to  bed,  and  sleep. 
ROD.  I  will  incontinently  drown  myself. 

IAGO.  Well,  if  thou  dost,  I  shall  never  love  thee 
after  it.  Why,  thou  silly  gentleman  ! 

ROD.  It  is  silliness  to  live,  when  to  live  is  a  tor- 
ment: and  then  have  we  a  prescription  to  die,  when 
death  is  our  physician. 

IAGO.  O  villainous  !    I  have  looked  upon  the 

Delighted  is  used  by  Shakspeare  in  the  sense  of  delighting,  or 
delightful.  See  Cymbeline,  Act  Vr 

"  Whom  best  I  love,  I  cross,  to  make  my  gift, 
"  The  more  delay'd,  delighted."     TYRWHITT. 

1  -  have  a  quick  eye  to  see;~\  Thus  the  eldest  quarto.  The 
folio  reads: 

-  if  thou  hast  eyes  to  see.     STEEVENS. 

8  And  bring  them  after  —  ]  Thus  the  folio.  The  quarto, 
1622,  reads  —  and  bring  her  after.  MALONE. 

3  -  best  advantage.']    Fairest  opportunity.     JOHNSON. 


sc.m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         29a 

world  for  four  times  seven  years : 4  and  since  I  could 
distinguish  between  a  benefit  and  an  injury,  I  never 
found  a  man  that  knew  how  to  love  himself.  Ere 
I  would  say,  I  would  drown  myself  for  the  love  of 
a  Guinea-hen,5  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  virtue  to  amend  it. 

IAGO.  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 

4  I  have  looked  upon  the  world  for  four  times  seven  years :  J 
From  this  passage  lago's  age  seems  to  be  ascertained ;  and  it 
corresponds  with  the  account  in  the  novel  on  which  Othello  is 
founded,  where  he  is  described  as  a  young,  handsome  man.  The 
French  translator  of  Shakspeare  is,  however,  of  opinion,  that 
lago  here  only  speaks  of  those  years  of  his  life  in  which  he  had 
looked  on  the  world  with  an  eye  of  observation.  But  it  would 
be  difficult  to  assign  a  reason  why  he  should  mention  the  precise 
term  of  twenty -eight  years ;  or  to  account  for  his  knowing  so 
accurately  when  his  understanding  arrived  at  maturity,  and  the 
operation  of  his  sagacity,  and  his  observations  on  mankind, 
commenced. 

That  lago  meant  to  say  he  was  but  twenty-eight  years  old,  is 
clearly  ascertained,  by  his  marking  particularly,  though  indefi- 
nitely, a  period  within  that  time,  ["  and  since  I  could  distin- 
guish," &c.]  when  he  began  to  make  observations  on  the  cha- 
racters of  men. 

Waller  on  a  picture  which  was  painted  for  him  in  his  youth, 
by  Cornelius  Jansen,  and  which  is  now  in  the  possession  of  his 
heir,  has  expressed  the  same  thought ;  "  Anno  aetatis  23 ;  vitee 
vix  primo."  MALONE. 

•*  a  Guinea-hen,']   A  showy  bird  with  fine  feathers. 

JOHNSON. 

A  Guinea-hen  was  anciently  the  cant  term  for  a  prostitute. 
So,  in  Albertus  Wallenstein,  1640: 

" Yonder's  the  cock  o'the  game, 

"  About  to  tread  yon  Guinea-hen  ;  they're  billing." 

STEEVENS; 


294  OTHELLO,  ACT  r. 

weed  up  thyme ;  supply  it  with  one  gender  of  herbs, 
or  distract  it  with  many ;  either  to  have  it  steril 
with  idleness,6  or  manured  with  industry ;  why,  the 
power  and  corrigible  authority  of  this  lies  in  our 
wills.  If  the  balance7  of  our  lives  had  not  one 
scale  of  reason  to  poise  another  of  sensuality,  the 
blood  and  baseness  of  our  natures  would  conduct 
us  to  most  preposterous  conclusions :  But  we  have- 
reason  to  cool  our  raging  motions,  our  carnal 
stings,  our  unbitted  lusts;8  whereof  I  take  this, 
that  you  call — love,  to  be  a  sect,  or  scion.9 

ROD.  It  cannot  be. 

I  AGO.  It  is  merely  a  lust  of  the  blood,  and  a  per- 
mission of  the  will.  Come,  be  a  man:  Drown  thy- 
self? drown  cats,  and  blind  puppies.  I  have  pro- 
fessed me  thy  friend,  and  I  confess  me  knit  to  thy 

6  either  to  have  it  steril  with  idleness,']   Thus  the  anthers 

tick  copies.     The  modern  editors  following  the  second  folio, 
have  omitted  the  word  to. — I  have  frequently  had  occasion  to 
remark  that  Shakspeare  often  begins  a  sentence  in  one  way,  and 
ends  it  in  a  different  kind  of  construction.     Here  he  has  made 
lago  say,  if  we  trill  plant,  &c.  and  he  concludes,  as  if  he  had 
written — if  our  will  is — either  to  have  it,  &c.     See  p.  263,  n.  1. 

MALONE, 

See  Vol.  IV.  p.  13,  n.  6,  where  the  remark  on  which  the 
foregoing  note  is  founded  was  originally  made.  STEEVENS. 

7  If  the  balance  S$c.~\     The  folio  reads — If  the  brain.     Pro- 
bably a  mistake  for — beam.     STEEVENS. 

8  reason,  to  cool — our  carnal  stings,  our  unbitted  lusts  ;~] 

So,  in  A  Knack  to  know  an  Honest  Man,  1596: 

" Virtue  never  taught  thee  that ; 

"  She  sets  a  bit  upon  her  bridled  lusts" 
See  also  As  you  like  it,  Act  II.  sc.  vi : 

"  For  thou  thyself  hast  been  a  libertine ; 

"  As  sensual  as  the  brutish  sting  itself."     MALONE. 

0  a  sect,  or  scion.~\     Thus  the  folio  and  quarto.     A  sect 

is  what  the  more  modern  gardeners  call  a  cutting.  The  modern 
editors  read — a  set.  STEEVENS. 


se.  IIL      THE  MOOH  OF  VENICE.         295 

deserving  with  cables  of  perdurable  toughness;1  I 
could  never  better  stead  thee  than  now.  Put  money 
in  thy  purse  ;  follow  these  wars;  defeat  thy  favour 
with  an  usurped  beard;2  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  com- 
mencement, and  thou  shalt  see  an  answerable  se- 
questration ; 3 — put  but  moneyin  thy  purse. — These 


1  I  confess  me  knit  to  thy  deserving  tvith  cables  of  per  - 

dutcible  toughness ;]    So,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra : 

"  To  make  you  brothers,  and  to  knit  your  hearts 

"  With  an  unslipping  knot." 
Again,  in  our  author's  26th  Sonnet: 

"  Lord  of  my  love,  to  whom  in  vassalage 

"  Thy  merit  hath  my  duty  strongly  knit."     M ALONE. 

'*  defeat  thy  favour  with  an  usurped  beard  ;"]     To  defeat, 

is  to  undo,  to  change.     JOHNSON. 

Defeat  is  from  defairc,  Fr.  to  undo.  Of  the  use  of  this  word 
I  have  already  given  several  instances.  STEEVENS. 

Favour  here  means  that  combination  of  features  which  gives 
the  face  its  distinguishing  character.  Defeat,  from  defaire,  in 
French,  signifies  to  unmake,  decompose,  or  give  a  different  ap- 
pearance to,  either  by  taking  away  something,  or  adding.  Thus, 
in  Don  Quixote,  Cardenio  defeated  his  favour  by  cutting  off  his 
beard,  and  the  Barber  his,  by  putting  one  on.  The  beard  which 
Mr.  Ashton  usurped  when  he  escaped  from  the  Tower,  gave  so 
different  an  appearance  to  his  face,  that  he  passed  through  his 
guards  without  the  least  suspicion.  In  The  Winter's  Tale,  Au- 
tolycus  had  recourse  to  an  expedient  like  Cardenio's,  (as  ap- 
pears from  the  pocketing  up  his  pedlar's  excrement, )  to  prevent 
his  being  known  in  the  garb  of  the  prince.  HEXLEY. 

To  defeat,  Minsheu,  in  his  Dictionary,  1617,  explains  by  the 
words — "  to  abrogate,  to  undo."  See  also  Florio's  Italian  Dic- 
tionary, 1598:  "  Disfacere.  To  undoe,  to  marre,  to  unmake, 
to  defeat."  MALONE. 

3  it  ivas  a  violent  commencement,  and  thou  shalt  see  an 

answerable  sequestration ;]  There  seems  to  be  an  opposition 
of  terms  here  intended,  which  has  been  lost  in  transcription, 
\Ve  may  read,  it  was  a  violent  conjunction,  and  ihou  shalt  sec 


296  OTHELLO,  ACT.I. 

Moors  are  changeable  in  their  wills; — fill  thy  purse 
with  money:  the  food  that  to  him  now  is  as  luscious 
as  locusts,  shall  be  to  him  shortly  as  bitter  as  colo- 
quintida.4  She  must  change  for  youth :  when  she 

tin  answerable  sequestration  ;  or,  what  seems  to  me  preferable, 
it  was  a  violent  commencement,  and  thoii  shalt  see  an  answerable 
sequel.  JOHNSON. 

•  .  I  believe  the  poet  uses  sequestration  for  sequel.  He  might 
conclude  that  it  was  immediately  derived  from  sequor.  Seques- 
tration, however,"  may  mean  no  more  than  separation.  So,  in 
this  play — "  a  sequester  from  liberty."  STEEVENS. 

Surely  sequestration  was  used  in  the  sense  of  separation  only, 
or  in  modern  language,  parting.     Their  passion  began  with  vio- 
lence, and  it  shall  end  as  quickly,  of  which  a  separation  will  be 
the  consequence.    A  total  and  voluntary  sequestration  necessarily 
includes  the  cessation  or  end  of  affection. — We  have  the  same 
thought  in  several  other  places.     So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet: 
"  These  violent  delights,  have  violent  ends, 
"  And  in  their  triumph  die." 
Again,  in  The  Rape  ofLucrece: 

"  Thy  violent  vanities  can  never  last." 

I  have  here  followed  the  first  quarto.  The  folio  reads — it  was 
a  violent  commencement  in  her,  &c.  The  context  shows  that 
the  original  is  the  true  reading.  Othello's  love  for  Desdemona 
has  been  just  mentioned,  as  well  as  her's  for  the  Moor.  MALONE. 

4  as  luscious  as  locusts, as  bitter  as  coloquintida."] 

The  old  quarto  reads — as  acerb  as  coloquintida. 

At  Tonquin  the  insect  locusts  are  considered  as  a  great  deli- 
cacy, not  only  by  the  poor  but  by  the  rich ;  and  are  sold  in  the 
markets,  as  larks  and  quails  are  in  Europe.  It  may  be  added, 
that  the  Levitical  law  permits  four  sorts  of  them  to  be  eaten. 

An  anonymous  correspondent  informs  me,  that  the  fruit  of 
the  locust-tree,  (which,  I  believe,  is  here  meant,)  is  a  long  black 
pod,  that  contains  the  seeds,  among  which  there  is  a  very  sweet 
luscious  juice  of  much  the  same  consistency  as  fresh  honeyi 
This  (says  he)  I  have  often  tasted.  STEEVENS. 

That  viscous  substance  which  the  pod  of  the  locust  contains, 
is,  perhaps,  of  all  others,  the  most  luscious.  From  its  likeness  to 
honey,  in  consistency  and  flavour,  the  locust  is  called  -the  lioney- 
tree  also.  Its  seeds,  enclosed  in  a  long  pod,  lie  buried  in  the 
juice.  HENLEY. 

Mr.Daines  Barrington  suggests  to  me,  that  Shakspeare  perhaps 
had  the  third  chapter  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel  in  his  thoughts, 


sc.  in.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          297 

is  sated  with  his  body,  she  will  find  the  error  of  her 
choice. — She  must  have  change,  she  must :  there- 
fore put  money  in  thy  purse. — If  thou  wilt  needs 
damn  thyself,  do  it  a  more  delicate  way  than  drown- 
ing. Make  all  the  money  thou  canst :  If  sancti- 
mony and  a  frail  vow,  betwixt  an  erring  barbarian5 
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  thy- 

in  which  we  are  told  that  John  the  Baptist  lived  in  the  wilderness 
on  locusts  and  wild  honey.  MALONE. 

"  Coloquyntida,"  says  Bullein,  in  his  Bulwark  of  Defence, 
1579,  "  is  most  bitter,  white  like  a  baule,  full  of  seedes,  leaves 
lyke  to  cucummers,  hoat  in  the  second,  dry  in  the  third  degree.*' 
He  then  gives  directions  for  the  application  of  it,  and  concludes, 
"  and  thus  I  do  end  of  coloquyntida,  which  is  most  bitter,  and 
must  be  taken  with  discretion.  The  Arabians  do  call  it  chandell." 

REED. 

5 betwixt  an  erring  barbarian — ]   We  should  read  errant; 

that  is,  a  vagabond,  one  that  has  no  house  nor  country. 

WARBURTOX. 
Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads,  arrant.     Erring  is  as  well  as  either. 

JOHNSON. 
So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Th*  extravagant  and  erring  spirit  hies 
"  To  his  confine."     STEEVENS. 

An  erring  Barbarian  perhaps  means  a  rover  from  Barbary. 
He  had  before  said :  "  You'll  have  your  daughter  covered  with 
a  Barbary  horse."  MALONE. 

I  rather  conceive  barbarian  to  be  here  used  with  its  primitive 
sense  of — a  foreigner,  as  it  is  also  in  Coriolanus: 

"  I  would  they  were  barbarians,  (as  they  are, 
'*  Though  in  Rome  litter'd. )"     STEEVENS. 
The  word  erring  is  sufficiently  explained  by  a  passage  in  the 
first  scene  of  the  play,  where  Roderigo  tells  Brabantio  that  his 
daughter  was — 

"  Tying  her  duty,  beauty,  wit  and  fortune, 
"  To  an  extravagant  and  wheeling  stranger.'* 
.Erring  is  the  same  as  erraticus  in  Latin. 
The  word  erring  is  used  in  the  same  sense  in  some  of  Orlando's 
verses  in  As  you  like  it: 

"  Tongues  I'll  hang  on  every  tree, 

"  That  shall  civil  sayings  show. 

"  Some,  kow  brief  the  life  of  man 

"  Runs  his  erring  pilgrimage; — ."     M.  MASON. 


298  OTHELLO,  ACT  i. 

self!  it  is  clean  out  of  the  way :  seek  thou  rather 
to  be  hanged  in  compassing  thy  joy,  than  to  be 
drowned  and  go  without  her. 

ROD.  Wilt  thou  be  fast  to  my  hopes,  if  I  depend 
on  the  issue?6 

IAGO.  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  ;7 
thine  hath  no  less  reason  :  Let  us  be  conjunctive8 
in  our  revenge  against  him :  if  thou  canst  cuckold 
him,  thou  dost  thyself  a  pleasure,  and  me  a  sport. 
There  are  many  events  in  the  womb  of  time,  which 
will  be  delivered.  Traverse ; 9  go  ;  provide  thy 
money.  We  will  have  more  of  this  to-morrow. 
Adieu. 

ROD.  Where  shall  we  meet  i'the  morning  ? 

IAGO.  At  my  lodging. 

ROD.  I'll  be  with  thee  betimes. 

IAGO.  Go  to ;  farewell.  Do  you  hear,  Roderigo  r 5 

6  . if  I  depend  on  the  issue?"]     These  words  are  wanting 

in  the  first  quai'to.     STEEVENS. 

7  hearted;]     This  adjective  occurs  again  in  Act  III: 

«  — hearted  throne."     Dr.  Johnson  in  his  Dictionary  has  un- 
guardedly said,  that  it  is  only  used  in  composition :  as,  for  in- 
stance, hard-hearted.     STEEVENS. 

8  conjunctive — ]    The  first  quarto  reads,  communicative. 

STEEVENS. 

9  Traverse;"]   This  was  an  ancient  military  word  of  command. 
So,  in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II.  Bardolph  says:  "  Hold,  Wart, 
traverse;  thus,  thus,  thus."     STEEVENS. 

1  Do  you  hear,  Roderigo?]    In  the  folio,  instead  of  this 

and  the  following  speeches,  we  find  only  these  words : 

lago.  Go  to ;  farewell.     Do  you  hear,  Roderigo  ? 

Rod.  I'll  sell  all  my  land.  [Exit. 

lago.  Thus  do  I  ever,  &c. 
The  quarto,  1622,  reads: 

lago.  Go  to ;  farewell : — do  you  hear,  Roderigo  ? 

Rod.  What  say  you  ? 

lago.  No  more  of  drowning,  do  you  hear. 

Rod.  I  am  chang'd.  [Exit  Rod, 


sc.  ill.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          299 

j?oz>.  What  say  you  ? 

/4GO.  No  more  of  drowning,  do  you  hear. 

ROD.  I  am  changed.     I'll  sell  all  my  land. 

I  AGO.  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,2 
But  for  my  sport  and  profit.     I  hate  the  Moor ; 
And  it  is  thought  abroad,  that  'twixt  my  sheets 
He  has  done  my  office  :  I  know  not  if 't  be  true  ; 
But  I,  for  mere  suspicion  in  that  kind, 
Will  do,  as  if  for  surety.3     He  holds  me  well  ;4 
The  better  shall  my  purpose  work  on  him. 
Cassio's  a  proper  man  :  Let  me  see  now ; 
To  get  his  place,  and  to  plume  up  my  will  ;5 
A  double  knavery, — How  ?  how  ? — Let  me  see  : — 
After  some  time,  to  abuse  Othello's  ear, 
That  he  is  too  familiar  with  his  wife  : — 
He  hath  a  person,  and  a  smooth  dispose, 
To  be  suspected ;  fram'd  to  make  women  false. 

lago.  Go  to ;  farewell :  put  money  enough  in  your  purse. 
Thus  do  I  ever,  &c. 
The  reading  of  the  text  is  formed  out  of  the  two  copies. 

MA  LONE. 

1  -a  snipe,]    Woodcock  is  the  term  generally  used  by 

Shakspeare  to  denote  an  insignificant  fellow ;  but  lago  is  more 
sarcastick,  and  compares  his  dupe  to  a  smaller  and  meaner  bird 
of  almost  the  same  shape.  STEEVENS. 

3  as  if  for  surety.']     That  is,  "I  will  act  as  if  I  were 

certain  of  the  fact."     M.  MASON. 

4  He  holds  me  iKell;~\  i.  e.  esteems  me.     So,  in  St.  Mat- 
t/tew, xxi.  26  :  "  — all  hold  John  as  a  prophet." 

Again,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Hold  it  a  fashion,  and  a  toy  in  blood."     REED. 

5  to  plume  up  &c.~\    The  first  quarto  reads — to  make  up 

&c.     STEEVENS. 


300  OTHELLO,  ACT  n. 

The  Moor  is  of  a  free  and  open  nature,6 
That  thinks  men  honest,  that  but  seems  to  be  so  ^ 
And  will  as  tenderly  be  led  by  the  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  II.     SCENE  I. 

A  Sea-port  Town  in  Cyprus.7     A  Platform. 

Enter  MONTANO  and  Two  Gentlemen. 

MON.  What  from  the  cape  can  you  discern  at 
sea? 

1  GENT.  Nothing  at  all :  it  is  a  high-wrought 
flood  ; 

6  The  Moor  is  of  a  free  and  open  nature,"}     The  first  quarto 
reads ; 

The  Moor,  a  free  and  open  nature  too, 
That  thinks  &c.     STEEVENS. 

7  in  Cyprus.]    All  the  modern  editors,  following  Mr. 

Rovve,  have  supposed  the  capital  of  Cyprus  to  be  the  place  where 
the  scene  of  Othello  lies  during  four  Acts :  but  this  could  not 
have  been  Shakspeare's  intention  ;  NICOSIA,  the  capital  city  of 
Cyprus,  being  situated  nearly  in  the  center  of  the  island,  and 
thirty  miles  distant  from  the  sea.    The  principal  sea-port  town  of 
Cyprus  was  FAMAGUSTA  ;  where  there  was  formerly  a  strong 
fort  and  commodious  haven,  the  only  one  of  any  magnitude  in 
the  island ;  and  there  undoubtedly  the  scene  should  be  placed. 
"  Neere  unto  the  haven  (says  Knolles,)  standeth  an  old  CASTLE, 
with  four  towers  after  the  ancient  manner  of  building."     To  this 
castle,  we  find  Othello  presently  repairs. 


ac.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          301 

I  cannot,  'twixt  the  heaven8  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,9 

It  is  observable  that  Cinthio  in  the  novel  on  which  this  play  isL 
founded,  which  was  first  published  in  1565,  makes  no  mention 
of  any  attack  being  made  on  Cyprus  by  the  Turks.  From  our 
poet's  having  mentioned  the  preparations  against  this  island, 
which  they  first  assaulted  and  took  from  the  Venetians  in  1570,  we 
may  suppose  that  he  intended  that  year  as  the  era  of  his  tragedy ; 
but  by  mentioning  Rhodes  as  also  likely  to  be  assaulted  by  the 
Turks,  he  has  fallen  into  an  historical  inconsistency  ;  for  they 
were  then  in  quiet  possession  of  that  island,  of  which  they  be- 
came masters  in  December,  1522;  and  if,  to  evade  this  diffi- 
culty, we  refer  Othello  to  an  era  prior  to  that  year,  there  will  be 
an  equal  incongruity;  for  from  1473,  when  the  Venetians  first 
became  possessed  of  Cyprus,  to  1522,  they  had  not  been  molested 
by  any  Turkish  armament.  MALONE. 

8  'twixt  the  heaven — ]   Thus  the  folio;  but  perhaps  our 

nuthor  wrote — the  heavens.     The  quarto,  1622,  probably  by  a 
printer's  error,  has — haven.     STEEVENS. 

The  reading  of  the  folio  affords  a  bolder  image ;  but  the  article 
prefixed  strongly  supports  the  original  copy  ;  for  applied  to  hea- 
ven, it  is  extremely  aukward.  Besides ;  though  in  The  Win- 
ter's Tale  our  poet  has  made  a  Clown  talk  of  a  ship  boring  the 
moon  icith  her  mainmast,  and  say  that  "  between  the  sea  and  the 
Jirmament  you  cannot  thrust  a  bodkin's  point,"  is  it  probable, 
that  he  should  put  the  same  hyperbolical  language  into  the  mouth 
of  a  gentleman,  answering  a  serious  question  on  an  important 
occasion  ?  In  a  subsequent  passage  indeed  he  indulges  himself 
without  impropriety  in  the  elevated  diction  of  poetry. 

Of  the  haven  of  Famagusta,  which  was  defended  from  the 
main  by  two  great  rocks,  at  the  distance  of  forty  paces  from 
each  other,  Shakspeare  might  have  found  a  particular  account 
in  Knolles's  History  of  the  Turks,  ad  ann.  1570,  p.  863. 

MALONE. 

9  If  it  hath  ruffian'd  so  upon  the  sea,^     So,  in  Troilus  and 
Crcssida  : 

"  But  let  the  ruffian  Boreas  once  enrage 
"  The  gentle  Thetis, — ."     MALONE. 


302  OTHELLO,  ACT  IT.. 

What  ribs  of  oak,  when  mountains  melt  on  them,1 
Can  hold  the  mortise  ?  what  shall  we  hear  of  this  ? 


1  'when  mountains  melt  on  them,  J    Thus  the  folio.     The 

quarto  reads : 

" -when  the  huge  mountain  melts.'* 

This  latter  reading  might  be  countenanced  by  the  following 
passage  in  The  Second  Part  of  King  Henry  IV : 
" the  continent 


"  Weary  of  solid  firmness,  melt  itself 

"  Into  the  sea ." 

This  phrase  appears  to  have  been  adopted  from  the  Book  of 
Judges,  ch.  v.  5 :  "  The  mountains  melted  from  before  the 
Lord,"  &c.  STEEVENS. 

The  quarto  is  surely  the  better  reading ;  it  conveys  a  more 
natural  image,  more  poetically  expressed.  Every  man  who  has 
been  on  board  a  vessel  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  or  in  any  very  high 
sea,  must  know  that  the  vast  billows  seem  to  melt  away  from  the 
ship,  not  on  it.  M.  MASON. 

I  would  not  wilfully  differ  from  Mr.  M.  Mason  concerning  the 
value  of  these  readings  ;  yet  surely  the  mortise  of  a  ship  is  in 
greater  peril  when  the  watry  mountain  melts  upon  it,  than  when 
it  melts  from  it.  When  the  waves  retreat  from  a  vessel,  it  is 
safe.  When  they  break  over  it,  its  structure  is  endangered. 
So,  in  Pericles  Prince  of  Tyre  : 

" a  sea 

"  That  almost  burst  the  deck."     STEEVENS. 

The  quarto,  1622,  reads — when  the  huge  mountaine  melts; 
the  letter  s,  which  perhaps  belongs  to  mountain,  having  wander- 
ed at  the  press  from  its  place. 

I  apprehend,  that  in  the  quarto  reading  ( as  well  as  in  the  folio, ) 
by  mountains  the  poet  meant  not  land-mountains,  which  Mr, 
Steevens  seems  by  his  quotation  to  have  thought,  but  those  huge 
surges,  (resembling  mountains  in  their  magnitude,)  which, 
"  with  high  and  monstrous  main  seem'd  to  cast  water  on  the 
burning  bear." 

So,  in  a  subsequent  scene : 

"  And  let  the  labouring  bark  climb  hills  of  seas, 

"  Olympus  high, ." 

Again,  in  Troihi-s  and  Cressida: 

" and  anon  behold 

"  The  strong-ribb'd  bark  through  liquid  mountains  cuts." 

MALONE. 


sc.  i.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          303 

2  GENT.  A  segregation  of  the  Turkish  fleet : 
For  do  but  stand  upon  the  foaming  shore,2 
The  chiding  billow  seems  to  pelt  the  clouds ; 
The  wind-shak'd  surge,  with  high  and  monstrous 

main, 

Seems  to  cast  water  on  the  burning  bear, 
And  quench  the  guards  of  the  ever-fixed  pole  :2 
I  never  did  like  molestation  view 
On  th'  enchafed  flood. 

MON.  If  that  the  Turkish  fleet 

Be  not  inshelter'd  and  embay'd,  they  are  drown'd ; 
It  is  impossible  they  bear  it  out. 

Enter  a  third  Gentleman. 

3  GENT.  News,  lords !  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? 


My  remark  on  Mr.  M.  Mason's  preceding  note  will  show  that 
I  had  no  such  meaning  as  Mr.  Malone  has  imputed  to  me.  AU 
I  aimed  at  was  to  parallel  the  idea  in  the  quarto,  of  one  moun- 
tain melting,  instead  of  many.  STEEVENS. 

*  the  foaming  shore,~]    The  elder  quarto  reads — banning 

shore,  which  offers  the  bolder  image ;  i.  e.  the  shore  that  exe- 
crates the  ravage  of  the  waves.     So,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  I : 
"  Fell,  banning  hag,  enchantress,  hold  thy  tongue." 

STEEVENS. 

3  And  quench  the  guards  of  the  ever-fixed  pole:~]  Alluding,  to 
the  star  Arctophylax.  JOHNSON. 

I  wonder  that  none  of  the  advocates  for  Shakspeare's  learn- 
ing, has  observed  that  Arctophylax  literally  signifies — the  guard 
of  the  bear. 

The  elder  quarto  reads — ever^ra/  pole.    STEEVENS. 


OTHELLO,  ACT  if, 

3  GENT.  The  ship  is  here  put  in, 
A  Veronese  ;  Michael  Cassio,4 
Lieutenant  to  the  warlike  Moor,  Othello, 
Is  come  on  shore :  the  Moor  himself  *s  at  sea, 
And  is  in  full  commission  here  for  Cyprus. 

4  The  ship  is  here  put  in, 

A  Veronese;  Michael  Cassio,  &c.~]  [Old  copies- — Veronessa.J 
Mr.  Heath  is  of  opinion,  that  the  poet  intended  to  inform  us, 
that  Othello's  lieutenant  Cassio  was  of  Verona,  an  inland  city 
of  the  Venetian  state  ;  and  adds,  that  the  editors  have  not  been 
pleased  to  say  what  kind  of  ship  is  here  denoted  by  a  Veronessa. 
By  a  Veronessa,  or  Veronese,  (for  the  Italian  pronunciation  must 
be  retained,  otherwise  the  measure  will  be  defective,}  a  ship  of 
Verona  is  denoted ;  as  we  say  to  this  day  of  ships  in  the  river, 
such  a  one  is  a  Dutchman,  a  Jamaica-man,  &c.  I  subjoin  Mr. 
Warton's  note,  as  a  confirmation  of  my  own.  STEEVENS. 

The  true  reading  is  Veronese,  pronounced  as  a  quadrisyllable: 

The  ship  is  here  put  in, 

A  Veronese. 

It  was  common  to  introduce  Italian  words,  and  in  their 
proper  pronunciation  then  familiar.  So  Spenser  in  The  Fairy 
Queen,  B.  III.  c.  xiii.  10: 

"  With  sleeves  dependant  Albanesc  wise" 
Mr.  Heath  observes,  that  "  the  editors  have  not  been  pleased 
to  inform  us  what  kind  of  ship  is  here  denoted  by  the  name  of  a 
Veronessa"  But  even  supposing  that  Veronessa  is  the  true  read- 
ing, there  is  no  sort  of  difficulty.  He  might  just  as  well  have 
inquired,  what  kind  of  a  ship  is  a  Hantburgher.  This  is  exactly 
a  parallel  form.  For  it  is  not  the  species  of  the  ship  which  is 
implied  in  this  appellation.  Our  critick  adds,  "  the  poet  had 
not  a  ship  in  his  thoughts. — He  intended  to  inform  us,  that 
Othello's  lieutenant,  Cassio,  was  of  Verona.  We  should  cer- 
tainly read : 

The  ship  is  here  put  in. 

A  Veronese,  Michael  Cassio,  (&c.) 

Is  come  on  shore. — 

This  regulation  of  the  lines  is  ingenious.  But  I  agree  with 
Sir  T.  Hanmer,  and  I  think  it  appears  from  many  parts  of  the 
play,  that  Cassio  was  a  Florentine.  In  this  speech,  the  third 
Gentleman,  who  brings  the  news  of  the  wreck  of  the  Turkish 
fleet,  returns  to  his  tale,  and  relates  the  circumstances  more  dis- 
tinctly. In  his  former  speech  he  says,  "  A  noble  ship  of  Venice^ 
saw  the  distress  of  the  Turks."  And  here  he  adds,  "  The  very 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          305 

MON.  I  am  glad  on't ;  'tis  a  worthy  governor. 

3  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  heaven  he  be  ; 

For  I  have  serv'd  him,  and  the  man  commands 
Like  a  full  soldier.5     Let's  to  the  sea-side,  ho ! 
As  well  to  see  the  vessel  that's  come  in, 
As  throw  out  our  eyes  for  brave  Othello ; 
Even  till  we  make  the  main,6  and  the  aerial  blue, 


ship  is  just  now  put  into  our  port,  and  she  is  a  Veronese."  That 
is,  a  ship  fitted  out  or  furnished  by  the  people  of  Verona,  a  city 
of  the  Venetian  state.  T.  WARTON. 

I  believe  we  are  all  wrong.  Verona  is  an  inland  city.  Every 
inconsistency  may,  however,  be  avoided,  if  we  read — 27/eVero- 
nessa,  i.  e.  the  name  of  the  ship  is  the  Veronessa.  Verona, 
however,  might  be  obliged  to  furnish  ships  towards  the  general 
defence  of  Italy.  STEEVENS. 

The  emendation  proposed  by  Mr.  Steevens  is  acute ;  but 
Shakspeare's  acquaintance  with  the  topography  of  Italy  (as 
appears  from  The  Tempest]  was  very  imperfect.  HENLEY. 

In  Thomases  History  of  Italy,  already  quoted,  the  people  of 
Verona  are  called  the  Veronesi. 

This  ship  has  been  already  described  as  a  ship  of  Venice.  It 
is  now  called  "  a  Veronese ;"  that  is,  a  ship  belonging  to  and 
furnished  by  the  inland  city  of  Verona,  for  the  use  of  the  Vene- 
tian state ;  and  newly  arrived  from  Venice.  "  Besides  many 
other  towns,  (says  Contareno,)  castles,  and  villages,  they  [the 
Venetians,]  possess  seven  faire  cities :  as  Trevigi,  Padoua,  Vi- 
cenza,  Varona,  Brescia,  Bergamo,  and  Crema."  Commonwealth 
of  Venice,  1399.  MALONE. 

-  *  Like  a  full  soldier."]  Like  a  complete  soldier.  So,  before* 
p.  231  : 

"  What  a  full  fortune  doth  the  thick  lips  owe." 

MALONE. 

6  Even  till  rvf  make  the  main,    &c.~]     This  line  and  half  is 
wanting  in  the  eldest  quarto.     STEEVENS. 
VOL.  XIX.  X 


306  OTHELLO,  ACT  ir. 

An  indistinct  regard. 

3  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,7 
That  so  approve  the  Moor ;  O,  let  the  heavens 
Give  him  defence  against  the  elements, 
For  I  have  lost  him  on  a  dangerous  sea ! 

M ON.  Is  he  well  shipp'd  ? 

CAS.  His  bark  is  stoutly  timber'd,  and  his  pilot 
Of  very  expert  and  approv'd  allowance ; 8 
Therefore  my  hopes,  not  surfeited  to  death, 
Stand  in  bold  cure.9 

•  warlike  z'sfe,]Thus  the  folio.     The  first  quarto  reads — 

worthy  isle.     STEEVENS. 

8  Of  very  expert  and  approved  allowance;']  I  read — : 

Very  expert,  and  of  approv'd  allowance.     JOHNSON. 

Expert  and  approv'd  allowance  is  put  for  allow' d  and  approv'd 
cxpertness.  This  mode  of  expression  is  not  unfrequent  in  Shak- 
speare.  STEEVENS. 

9  Therefore  my  hopes,  not  surfeited  to  death, 

Stand  in  bold  cure.']  I  do  not  understand  these  lines.  I 
know  not  how  hope  can  be  surfeited  to  death,  that  is,  can  be  in- 
creased, till  it  be  destroyed;  nor  what  it  is  to  stand  in  bold  cure  ; 
or  why  hope  should  be  considered  as  a  disease.  In  the  copies 
there  is  no  variation.  Shall  we  read  : 

Therefore  my  fears,  not  surfeited  to  death, 

Stand  in  bold  cure  ? 

This  is  better,  but  it  is  not  well.  Shall  we  strike  a  bolder 
stroke,  and  read  thus : 

Therefore  my  hopes,  not  forfeited  to  death, 

Stand  bold,  not  sure  ?     JOHNSON. 

Presumptuous  hopes,  which  have  no  foundation  in  probability, 
may  poetically  be  said  to  surfeit  themselves  to  death,  or  forward 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.  307 

A  sail,  a  sail,  a  sail! 

Enter  another  Gentleman. 
CAS.  What  noise  ? 

their  own  dissolution.  To  stand  in  bold  cure,  is  to  erect  them- 
selves in  confidence  of  being  fulfilled.  A  parallel  expression 
occurs  in  King  Lear,  Act  III.  sc.  vi : 

"  This  rest  might  yet  have  balm'd  his  broken  senses, 
"  Which,  if  conveniency  will  not  allow, 
"  Stand  in  hard  cure." 
Again : 

" his  life,  with  thine,  &c. 

"  Stand  in  assured  loss." 
In  bold  cure  means,  in  confidence  of  being  cured. 

STEEVENS. 

Dr.  Johnson  says,  "  he  knows  not  why  hope  should  be  consi- 
dered as  a  disease."  But  it  is  not  hope  which  is  here  described 
as  a  disease;  those  misgiving  apprehensions  which  diminish  hope, 
are  in  fact  the  disease,  and  hope  itself  is  the  patient. 

A  surfeit  being  a  disease  arising  from  an  excessive  overcharge 
of  the  stomach,  the  poet  with  his  usual  licence  uses  it  for  any 
species  of  excess. — Therefore,  says  Cassio,  my  hopes,  which, 
though  faint  and  sickly  with  apprehension,  are  not  totally  de- 
stroyed by  an  excess  of  despondency,  erect  themselves  with 
some  degree  of  confidence  that  they  will  be  relieved,  by  the 
safe  arrival  of  Othello,  from  those  ill-divining  fears  under  which 
they  now  languish. 

The  word  surfeit  having  occurred  to  Shakspeare,  led  him  to 
consider  such  a  hope  as  Cassio  entertained,  not  a  sanguine,  but 
a  faint  and  languid  hope,  ("  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of 
thought,")  as  a  disease,  and  to  talk  of  its  cure. 

A  passage  in  Twelfth-Night,  where  a  similar  phraseology  is 
used,  may  serve  to  strengthen  this  interpretation : 
"  Give  me  excess  of  it ;  that,  surfeiting, 
"  The  appetite  may  sicken,  and  so  die." 
Again,  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona: 

"  O,  I  have  fed  upon  this  ixoe  already, 

"  And  now  CJLCCSS  of  it  will  make  me  surfeit,99 

MALONE. 

I  believe  that  Solomon,  upon  this  occasion,  will  be  found  the 
best  interpreter :  "  Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick." 

HENLEY. 
X  2 


308  OTHELLO,  ACT  11. 

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  governour. 

2  GENT.  They  do  discharge  their  shot  of  cour- 
tesy :     ,  [Guns  heard. 
Our  friends,  at  least. 

,   CAS.  I  pray  you,  sir,  go  forth, 

Arid  give  us  truth  who  'tis  that  is  arriv'd. 

2  GENT.  I  shall.  [Exit. 

MON.   But,   good  lieutenent,   is   your  general 
wiv'd  ? 

CAS.  Most  fortunately:  he  hath  achieved  a  maid 
That  paragons  description,  and  wild  fame ; 
One  that  excels  the  quirks  of  blazoning  pens,1 
And  in  the  essential  vesture  of  creation, 
Does  bear  all  excellency.2 — How  now  ?  who  has 
put  in  ? 

1  One  that  excels  the  quirks  of  blazoning  pens,~]     So,  in  our 
poet's  103d  Sonnet : 

" •  a  face 

"  That  over-goes  my  blunt  invention  quite, 
"  Dulling  my  lines,  and  doing  me  disgrace."    MALONE. 
*  And  in  the  essential  vesture  of  creation, 

Does  bear  all  excellency. ~\  The  author  seems  to  use  essential, 
for  existent,  real.  She  excels  the  praises  of  invention,  says  he, 
and  in  real  qualities,  with  which  creation  has  invested  her,  bears 
all  excellency.  JOHNSON. 

Does  bear  all  excellency.'}   Such  is  the  reading  of  the  quartos ; 
for  which  the  folio  has  this : 

And  in  the  essential  vesture  of  creation 
Do's  tyre  the  ingeniuer. 
Which  I  explain  thus  : 

Does  tire  the  ingenious  verse. 

This  is  the  best  reading,  and  that  which  the  author  substituted 
in  his  revisal.     JOHNSON. 

The  reading  of  the  quarto  is  so  flat  and  unpoetical,  when 
compared  with  that  sense  which  seems  meant  to  have  been  given 


ye.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          309 

He-enter  second  Gentleman. 
2  GENT.  'Tis  one  lago,  ancient  to  the  general. 

in  the  folio,  that  I  heartily  wish  some  emendation  could  be  hit 
on,  which  might  entitle  it  to  a  place  in  the  text.  I  believe  the 
word  tire  was  not  introduced  to  signify — to  fatigue,  but  to 
attire,  to  dress.  The  verb  to  attire,  is  often  so  abbreviated. 
Thus,  in  Holland's  Leaguer,  1633  : 

" Cupid's  a  boy, 

"  And  would  you  tire  him  like  a  senator:1" 
Again,  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors,  Act  II.  sc.  ii : 

" To  save  the  money  he  spends  in  tiring,"  &c. 

The  essential  vesture  of  creation  tempts  me  to  believe  it  was  so 
used  on  the  present  occasion.     I  would  read  something  like  this : 
And  in  the  essential  vesture  of  creation 
Does  tire  the  ingenuous  virtue. 

i.  e.  invests  her  artless  virtue  in  the  fairest  form  of  earthly  sub- 
stance. 

In  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  V.  Lorenzo  calls  the  body 
— "  the  muddy  vesture  of  decay." 

It  may,  however,  be  observed,  that  the  word  ingener  did  not 
anciently  signify  one  taho  manages  the  engines  or  artillery  of  an 
army,  but  any  ingenious  person,  any  master  of  liberal  science. 

As  in  the  following  instance  from  the  ancient  metrical  romance 
of  The  Sowdon  of  Babyloyne,  p.  55  : 

He  called  forth  Mabon  his  engynour 
And  saide,  I  charge  thee 
To  throwe  a  magnelle  to  yon  tour 
And  breke  it  down  on  thre." 


So,  in 


Ben  Jonson's  Sejanus,  Act  I.  sc.  i : 


No,  Silius,  we  are  no  good  ingeners, 
We  want  the  fine  arts,"  &c. 
Ingener,  therefore,  may  be  the  true  reading  of  this  passage : 
and  a  similar  thought  occurs  in  The  Tempest,  Act  IV.  sc.  i : 
"  For  thou  shalt  find  she  will  outstrip  all  praise, 
"  And  make  it  halt  behind  her." 

In  the  argument  of  Sejanus,  Ben  Jonson  likewise  says  that 
his  hero  "  worketh  with  all  his  ingene,"  apparently  from  the 
Latin  ingenium.  STEEVENS. 

Perhaps  the  words  intended  in  the  folio,  were — 

Does  tire  the  ingene  ever. 
Ingene  is  used  for  ingenium  by  Puttenham,  jn  his  Arte  of 


310  OTHELLO,  ACT  JA 

CAS.-  He  has  had  most  favourable  and  happy 
speed : 


Poesie,  1589:  "  — such  also  as  made  most  of  their  workes  by 
translation  out  of  the  Latin  and  French  tongue,  and  few  or  none 
of  their  owne  engine."  Engine  is  here  without  doubt  a  misprint 
for  ingene. — I  believe,  however,  the  reading  of  the  quarto  is  the 
true  one. — If  tire  was  used  in  the  sense  of  weary,  then  ingener 
must  have  been  used  for  the  ingenious  person  who  should  attempt 
to  enumerate  the  merits  of  Desdemona.  To  the  instance  pro- 
duced by  Mr.  Steevens  from  Sejanus,  may  be  added  another  in 
Fleckno's  Discourse  of  the  English  Stage,  1664  :  "  Of  this  cu- 
rious art  the  Italians  (this  latter  age)  are  the  greatest  masters, 
the  French  good  proficients,  and  we  in  England  only  schollars 
and  learners,  yet,  having  proceeded  no  further  than  to  bare 
painting,  and  not  arrived  to  the  stupendous  wonders  of  your  great 
tngeniers.*'  In  one  of  Daniel's  Sonnets,  we  meet  with  a  similar 
imagery  to  that  in  the  first  of  these  lines : 

"  Though  time  doth  spoil  her  of  the  fairest  vaile 
"  That  ever  yet  mortalitie  did  cover.1"     MALONE. 

The  reading  of  the  folio,  though  incorrectly  spelled,  appears 
to  have  been — 

Does  tire  the  engineer ; 

which  is  preferable  to  either  of  the  proposed  amendments ;  and 
the  meaning  of  the  passage  would  then  be,  "  One  whose  real 
perfections  were  so  excellent,  that  to  blazon-thcm  would  exceed 
the  abilities  of  the  ablest  masters." 

The  sense  attributed  to  the  word  tirey  according  to  this  read- 
ing, is  perfectly  agreeable  to  the  language  of  poetry.  Thus 
Dryden  says : 

"  For  this  an  hundred  voices  I  desire, 
"  To  tell  thee  what  an  hundred  tongues  would  tire; 
"  Yet  never  could  be  worthily  exprest, 
"  How  deeply  those  are  seated  in  my  breast." 
And  in  the  last  Act  of  The  Winter's  Tale,  the  third  Gentle- 
man says:  "  I  never  heard  of  such  another  encounter,  which 
lames  report  to  follow  it,  and  undoes  description  to  do  it."    The 
objection  to  the  reading  of  inginer,  is,  that  although  we  find 
the  words  ingine,  inginer,  and  inginous  in  Jonson,  they  are  not 
the  language  of  Shakspeare ;  and  I  believe  indeed  that  Jonson  is 
singular  in  the  use  of  them.     M.  MASON. 

Whoever  shall  reject  uncommon  expressions  in  the  writings  of 
Shakspeare,  because  they  differ  either  from  the  exact  rules  of 
orthography,  or  from  the  unsettled  mode  of  spelling  them  by 


sc.i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          31 1. 

Tempests   themselves,   high   seas,   and  howling 

winds, 

The  gutter'd  rocks,  and  congregated  sands, — 
Traitors  ensteep'd3  to  clog  the  guiltless  keel, 
As  having  sense  of  beauty,  do  omit 


other  writers,  will  be  found  to  deprive  him  no  less  of  his  beauties, 
than  that  of  the  ornithologist  would  the  peacock,  who  should  cut 
out  every  eye  of  his  train  because  it  was  either  not  circular,  or 
else  varied  from  some  imaginary  standard. — Ingenieur  is  no  doubt 
of  the  same  import  with  ingener  or  ingeneer,  though  perhaps 
differently  written  by  Shakspeare  in  reference  to  ingenious,  and 
to  distinguish  it  from  ingeneer,  which  he  has  elsewhere  used  in  a 
military  sense.  Mr.  M.  Mason's  objection,  that  it  is  not  the  lan- 
guage of  Shakspeare,  is  more  than  begging  the  question  ;  and  to 
affirm  that  Jonson  is  singular  in  the  use  of  ingine,  ingincr,  and 
inginous,  is  as  little  to  the  purpose.  For  we  not  only  have  those 
expressions  in  other  writers,  but  others  from  the  same  root,  as 
ingene,  en  gene,  &c.  in  Holinshed,  and  Sir  T.  More;  and  Daniel 
uses  ingeniate: 

"  Th*  adulterate  beauty  of  a  falsed  cheek 

"  Did  Nature  (for  this  good)  ingeniate, 

"  To  shew  in  thee  the  glory  of  her  best."     HENLEY. 

3  Traitors  ensteep'd — ]  Thus  the  folio  and  one  of  the  quartos. 
The  first  copy  reads — enscerped,  of  which  every  reader  may  make 
what  he  pleases.  Perhaps  escerpedwas  an  old  English  word  bor- 
rowed from  the  French  escarpe,  which  Shakspeare  not  finding 
congruous  to  the  image  of  clogging  the  keel,  afterwards  changed. 

I  once  thought  that  the  poet  had  written — Traitors  enscarf'd, 
i.  e.  muffled  in  their  robes,  as  in  Julius  Caesar.  So,  in  Hamlet: 
"  My  sea-gown  scarf  d  about  me ;"  and  this  agrees  better  with 
the  idea  of  a  traitor  ;  yet  whatever  is  gained  one  way  is  lost  ano- 
ther. Our  poet  too  often  adopts  circumstances  from  every  image 
that  arose  in  his  mind,  and  employing  them  without  attention  to 
the  propriety  of  their  union,  his  metaphorical  expressions  be- 
come inextricably  confused.  STEEVEJTS. 

Mr.  Steevens's  difficulty  respecting  ensteep'd,  would,  perhaps, 
have  been  removed,  if  he  had  but  recollected  the  passage  of  the 
fourth  Act,  where  Othello  alludes  to  the  fate  of  Tantalus : 

"  Had  it  pleas'd  heaven 

"  To  try  me  with  affliction ;  had  he  rain'd 

"  All  kind  of  sores,  and  shames  on  my  bare  head ; 

"  Steep1  d  me  in  poverty  to  the  very  lips — ."     HEXLEY. 


312  OTHELLO,  ACT  n. 

Their  mortal  natures,4  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  Jove,5  Othello  guard, 
And  swell  his  sail  with  thine  own  powerful  breath  j 
That  he  may  bless  this  bay  with  his  tall  ship, 
Make  love's  quick  pants  in  Desdemona's  arms,6 
Give  renewed  fire  to  pur  extincted  spirits, 
And  bring  all  Cyprus  comfort!7 — O,  behold. 


Enter   DESDEMONA,    EMILIA,    IAGO,    RODERIGO, 
and  Attendants. 

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 ! 


4  Their  mortal  natures,"]  i.  e.  their  deadly,  destructive  natures. 
So,  in  Macbeth  : 

"  That  tend  on  mortal  thoughts." 
See  Dr.  Johnson's  note,  Vol.  X.  65,  n.  5.     REED. 

* Great  Jove,  #c.]     For  this  absurdity  I  have  not  the 

smallest  doubt  that  the  Master  of  the  Revels,  and  not  our  poet, 
is  answerable.  See  The  Historical  Account  of  the  English  Stage, 
Vol.  III.  MALONE. 

6  Make  love's  quick  pants  in  Desdemona's  arms,]     Thus  the 
folio.     The  quarto  with  less  animation  : 

And  swiftly  come  to  Desdemona's  arms.     STEEVENS. 

7  And  bring  all  Cyprus  comfort  /]    This  passage  is  only  found 
in  the  quartos.     STEEVENS. 


sc.  I.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          313 

DES.  I  thank  you,  valiant  Cassio. 

What  tidings  can  you  tell  me  of  my  lord  ? 

CAS.  He  is  not  yet  arriv'd ;  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. 

{Cry  within,  A  sail,  a  sail !  Then  Guns  heard. 

2  GENT.  They  give  their  greeting  to  the  citadel  j 
This  likewise  is  a  friend. 

CAS.  See  for  the  news.8 — 

[Exit  Gentleman. 

Good  ancient,  you  are  welcome  j — Welcome,  mis- 
tress:—  [To  EMILIA. 
Let  it  not  gall  your  patience,  good  lago, 
That  I  extend  my  manners  ;  'tis  my  breeding 
That  gives  me  this  bold  show  of  courtesy. 

[Kissing  her. 

I  AGO.  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. 

I  AGO.  In  faith,  too  much  ; 9 
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. 


8  See  for  the  news.']     The  first  quarto  reads — So  speaks  this 
voice.     STEEVENS. 

9  In  Jaith,  too  much;~]  Thus  the  folio.     The  first  quarto  thus: 

/  knoui  too  much  ; 

J Jind it,  I;  for  when,  &c.     STEEVENS. 


314-  OTHELLO,  ACT  IT., 


EMIL.  You  have  little  cause  to  say  so. 

IAGO.  Come  on,  come  on ;  you  are  pictures  out 

of  doors, 

Bells  in  your  parlours,  wild  cats  in  your  kitchens, 
Saints  in  your  injuries,1  devils  being  offended, 
Players  in  your  housewifery,  and  housewives  in 

your  beds. 

DES.  O,  fye  upon  thee,  slanderer ! 2 

IAGO.  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. 

IAGO.  No,  let  me  not. 


1  Saints  in  your  injuries,  &c.]  When  you  have  a  mind  to  do 
injuries,  you  put  on  an  air  of  sanctity.  JOHNSON. 

In  Puttenham's  Art  of  Poesie,  1580,  I  meet  with  almost  the 
same  thoughts:  "  We  limit  the  comely  parts  of  a  woman  to 
consist  in  four  points ;  that  is,  to  be,  a  shrew  in  the  kitchen,  a 
Saint  in  the  church,  an  angel  at  board,  and  an  ape  in  the  bed ; 
as  the  chronicle  reports  by  mistress  Shore,  paramour  to  King 
Edward  the  Fourth." 

Again,  in  a  play  of  Middleton's,  called  Blurt  Master  Consta- 
ble; or,  The  Spaniard's  Night-walk,  1602:  " — according  to 
that  wise  saying  of  you,  you  be  saints  in  the  church,  angels  in 
the  street,  devils  in  the  kitchen,  and  apes  in  your  beds." 

Again,  in  The  Miseries  of  inforc'd  Marriage,  1607  :  "  Wo- 
men are  in  churches  saints,  abroad  angels,  at  home  devils." 

Puttenham,  who  mentions  all  other  contemporary  writers,  has 
not  once  spoken  of  Shakspeare  ;  so  that  it  is  probable  he  had  not 
produced  any  thing  of  so  early  a  date. 

The  truth  is,  that  this  book  appears  to  have  been  written 
several  years  before  its  publication.  See  p.  115,  116,  where  the 
author  refers  to  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  who  died  in  1579,  and  re- 
counts a  circumstance,  from  his  own  knowledge,  that  happened 
in  1553.  STEEVENS. 

See  also  Meres's  Wit's  Treasury,  p.  48.     REE!). 

3  ®ifye  upon  thee,.  slanderer /]  This  short  speech  is,  in  the 
quarto,  unappropriated ;  and  may  as  well  belong  to  Emilia  as  to 
Desdemona.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  x.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          315 

DES.  What  would'st  thou  write  of  me,  if  thou 
should'st  praise  me  ? 

I  AGO.  O  gentle  lady,  do  not  put  me  to't ; 
For  I  am  nothing,  if  not  critical.3 

DES.  Come  on,  assay: — There's  one  gone  ta 
the  harbour  ? 

I  AGO.  Ay,  madam. 

DES.  I  am  not  merry ;  but  I  do  beguile 
The  thing  I  am,  by  seeming  otherwise. — 
Come,  how  would* st  thou  praise  me  ? 

IAGO.  I  am  about  it ;  but,  indeed,  my  invention 
Comes  from  my  pate,  as  birdlime  does  from  frize,* 
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  prais'd !  How  if  she  be  black  and 
witty  ? 

IAGO.  If  she  be  black,  and  thereto  have  a  wit, 
She'll  find  a  white  that  shall  her  blackness  fit.5 

DES.  Worse  and  worse. 


•  critical.'}   That  is,  censorious.     JOHNSON. 


So,  in  our  author's  122d  Sonnet : 

" my  adder's  sense 

"  To  criticlc  and  to  flatterer  stopped  are."     MALONE. 


my  invention 


Comes  from  my  pate,  as  birdlime  does  from  frize,]  A  simi- 
lar thought  occurs  in  The  Puritan:  "  The  excuse  stuck  upon 
my  tongue,  like  ship-pilch  upon  a  manner's  goivn."  STEEVENS. 

5 her  blackness  fit.]   The  first  quarto  reads — hit.     So,  in 

King  Lear:  "  I  pray  you,  let  us  hit  together."  I  believe  hit, 
in  the  present  instance  also,  to  be  the  true  reading,  though  it 
will  not  bear,  as  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  explanation.  See 
Vol.  VII.  p.  82.  STEIIVEXS. 


316  OTHELLO,  ACT  //.. 

EMIL*  How,  if  fair  and  foolish  ? 

IAGO.  She  never  yet  was  foolish  that  was  fair  ;6 
For  even  her  folly  help'd  her  to  an  heir. 

DES.  These  are  old  fond  paradoxes,  to  make 
fools  laugh  i'the  alehouse.  What  miserable  praise 
hast  thou  for  her  that's  foul  and  foolish  ? 

IAGO.  There's  none  so  foul,  and  foolish  there- 

unto, 
But  does  foul  pranks  which  fair  and  wise  ones  do. 

DES.  O  heavy  ignorance  !  —  thou  praisest  the 
worst  best.  But  what  praise  could'st  thou  bestow 
on  a  deserving  woman  indeed  ?7  one,  that,  in  the 
authority  of  her  merit,  did  justly  put  on  the  vouch 
of  very  malice  itself?8 


6  She  never  yet  uas  foolish  &c.]   We  may  read  : 

She  ne'er  ixas  yet  so  foolish  that  tvas  fair  , 

But  even  her  folly  help'd  her  to  an  heir, 

Yet  I  believe  the  common  reading  to  be  right  :  the  law  makes 
the  power  of  cohabitation  a  proof  that  a  man  is  not  a  natural; 
therefore,  since  the  foolishest  woman,  if  pretty,  may  have  a 
child,  no  pretty  woman  is  ever  foolish.  JOHNSON. 

7  But  what  praise  could'st  thou  bestow  on  a  deserving  "woman 
indeedf]     The  hint  for  this  question,  and  the  metrical  reply  of 
lago,  is  taken  from  a  strange  pamphlet,  called  Choice,  Chance, 
and  Change.,    or  Conceits  in  their  Colours,    1606;   when  after 
Tidero   has    described   many   ridiculous    characters    in   verse, 
Arnofilo  asks  him,  "  But,  I  pray  thee,  didst  thou  write  none  in 
commendation  of  some  worthy  creature  ?"     Tidero  then  pro- 
ceeds, like  lago,  to  repeat  more  verses.     STEEVENS. 

8  -  one,  that,  in  the  authority  of  her  merit,  did  justly  put 
on  the  vouch  of  very  malice  itself?]    The  sense  is  this,  one  that 
was  so  conscious  of  her  own  merit,  and  of  the  authority  her 
character  had  with  every  one,  that  she  durst  venture  to  call  upon 
malice  itself  to  vouch  for  her.     This  was  some  commendation. 
And  the  character  only  of  clearest  virtue;  which  could  force 
malice,  even  against  its  nature,  to  do  justice.     WARBURTON. 

To  put  on  the  vouch  of  malice,   is  to  assume  a  character 
vouched  by  the  testimony  of  malice  itself.    JOHNSON. 


sc.  /.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          317 

I  AGO.  She  that  was  ever  fair,  and  never  proud ; 
Had  tongue  at  will,  and  yet  was  never  loud ; 
Never  lack'd  gold,  and  yet  went  never  gay ; 
Fled  from  her  wish,  and  yet  said, — ?iow  I  may  ; 
She  that,  being  anger'd,  her  revenge  being  nigh, 
Bade  her  wrong  stay,  and  her  displeasure  fly : 
She  that  in  wisdom  never  was  so  frail, 
To  change  the  cod's  head  for  the  salmon's  tail  j9 
She  that  could  think,  and  ne'er  disclose  her  mind, 
See  suitors  following,  and  not  look  behind ; 1 
She  was  a  wight, — if  ever  such  wight  were, — 

DES.  To  do  what  ? 

IAGO.  To  suckle  fools,  and  chronicle  small  beer.2 

DES.  O  most  lame  and  impotent  conclusion  1 — 


To  put  on  is  to  provoke,  to  incite.     So,  in  Macbeth: 

" the  powers  above 

"  Put  on  their  instruments."     STEEVENS. 

-'  To  change  the  cod's  head  for  the  salmon's  tail ;]  i.  e.  to  ex* 
change  a  delicacy  for  coarser  tare.  See  Queen  Elizabeth's 
Household  Book  for  the  4>3d  Year  of  her  Reign:  "  Item,  the 
Master  Cookes  have  to  fee  all  the  salmon's  tailes"  &c.  p.  296. 

STEEVENS. 

Surely  the  poet  had  a  further  allusion,  which  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  explain.  The  word  frail  in  the  preceding  line  shows 
that  viands  were  not  alone  in  his  thoughts.  MALONE. 

A  frail  judgment,  means  only  a  'weak  one.  I  suspect  no 
equivoque.  STEEVEXS. 

1  See  Suitors Jblloixing,  and  not  look  behind  ;~\  The  first  quarto 
omits  this  line.  STEEVENS. 

4  To  suckle  fools,  and  chronicle  small  beer.'}  After  enumera- 
ting the  perfections  of  a  woman,  lago  adds,  that  if  ever  there 
was  such  a  one  as  he  had  been  describing,  she  was,  at  the  best, 
of  no  other  use,  than  to  suckle  children,  and  keep  the  accounts 
of  a  household.  The  expressions  to  suckle  fools,  and  chronicle 
small  beer,  are  only  instances  of  the  want  of  natural  affection, 
and  the  predominance  of  a  critical  censoriousness  in  lago, 
which  he  allows  himself  to  be  possessed  of,  where  he  says,  0! 
I  am  nothing,  if  not  critical.  STEEVENS. 


31  a  OTHELLO,  ACT  n. 

Do  not  learn  of  him,  Emilia,  though  he  be  thy 
husband. — How  say  you,  Cassio?  is  he  not  a  most 
profane3  and  liberal  counsellor  ?4 

CAS.  He  speaks  home,  madam  ;  you  may  relish 
him  more  in  the  soldier,  than  in  the  scholar. 

IAGO.  [_Aside.~\  He  takes  her  by  the  palm :  Ay, 
well  said,  whisper :  with  as  little  a  web  as  this,  will 
I  ensnare  as  great  a  fly  as  Cassio.  Ay,  smile  upon 
her,  do ;  I  will  gyve  thee5  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  kissed  your  three  fingers  so  oft, 
which  now  again  you  are  most  apt  to  play  the  sir 
in.6  Very  good ;  well  kissed !  an  excellent  cour- 

3 profane — ~]     Gross  of  language,  of  expression  broad 

and  brutal.  So,  Brabantio,  in  the  first  Act,  calls  lago  profane 
wretch.  JOHNSON. 

Ben  Jonson,  in  describing  the  characters  in  Every  Man  out 
of  his  Humour,  styles  Carlo  Buffone,  a  publick,  scurrilous,  and 
profane  jester.  STEEVENS. 

4 . liberal  counsellor  f]  Liberal  for  licentious. 

WARBURTON. 

So,  in  The  Fair  Maid  of  Bristow,  1605,  bl.  1 : 
"  But  Vallenger,  most  like  a  liberal  villain, 
"  Did  give  her  scandalous,  ignoble  terms."     STEEVENS. 

See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  316,  n.  9.     MALONE. 

Counsellor  seems  to  mean,  not  so  much  a  man  that  gives 
counsel,  as  one  that  discourses  fearlessly  and  voiubty.  A  talker. 

JOHNSON. 

Counsellor  is  here  used  in  the  common  acceptation.  Desde- 
mona  refers  to  the  answers  she  had  received  from  lago,  and  par- 
ticularly her  last.  HENLEY. 

5 /  will  gyve  thee — ]   i.  e.  catch,  shackle.     POPE. 

The  first  quarto  reads — I  will  catch  you  in  your  own  courtsies; 
the  second  quarto — I  will  catch  you  in  your  own  courtship. 
The  folio  as  it  is  in  the  text.  STEEVENS. 

6 to  play  the  sir  in.'}  That  is,  to  show  your  good  breed- 
ing and  gallantry.  HENLEY. 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          319 

tesy!7  'tis  so,  indeed.  Yet  again  your  fingers  to 
your  lips  ?  would,  they  were  clyster-pipes  for  your 
sake!— — [Trumpet.^  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,  and  Attendants. 
OTH.  O  my  fair  warrior!8 


1 well  kissed!    an   excellent    courtesy!']     Spoken  when 

Cassio  kisses  his  hand,  and  Desdemona  courtsies.     JOHNSON, 

This  reading  was  recovered  from  the  quarto,  1622,  by  Dr. 
Johnson.  The  folio  has — and  excellent  courtesy. 

I  do  not  believe  that  any  part  of  these  words  relates  to  Des- 
demona. In  the  original  copy,  we  have  just  seen,  the  poet 
wrote  — "  ay,  smile  upon  her,  do  ;  I  will  catch  you  in  your  own 
courtesies.'"  Here  therefore  he  probably  meant  only  to  speak  of 
Cassio,  while  kissing  his  hand.  "  Well  kissed !  an  excellent 
courtesy !"  i.  e.  an  excellent  salute.  Courtesy,  in  the  sense  of 
obeisance  or  salute,  was  in  Shakspeare's  time  applied  to  men  as 
well  as  women.  See  Vol.  XI.  p.  34-1,  n.  1.  MALONE. 

8  0  my  fair  warrior!]  Again,  in  Act  III.  Desdemona  says  : 
"  —  unhandsome  warrior  as  I  am."  This  phrase  was  introduced 
by  our  copiers  of  the  French  Sonnetteers.  Ronsard  frequently 
calls  his  mistresses  guerrieres;  and  Southern,  his  imitator,  is  not 
less  prodigal  of  the  same  appellation.  Thus,  in  his  fifth  Sonnet: 

"  And,  my  learner,  my  light  shines  in  thy  fayre  eyes." 
Again,  in  his  sixth  Sonnet : 

"  I  am  not,  my  cruell  carrier,  the  Thebain,"  &c. 
Again,  ibid: 

"  I  came  not,  my  ivarrier,  of  the  blood  Lidain." 
Had  I  not  met  with  the  word  thus  fantastically  applied,  I 
should  have  concluded  that  Othello  called  his  wife  a  warrior, 
because  she  had  embarked  with  him  on  a  warlike  expedition,  and 
not  in  consequence  of  Ovid's  observation — 

"  Militat  omnis  amans,  et  habet  sua  castra  Cupido." 

STEEVENS. 


320  OTHELLO, 

DES.  My  dear  Othello ! 

OTH.  It  gives  me  wonder  great  as  my  content, 
To  see  you  here  before  me.     O  my  soul's  joy  ! 
If  after  every  tempest  come  such  calms,9 
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 ! l  If  it  were  now  to  die, 
'Twere  now  to  be  most  happy  ; 2  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  I3 


9 come  such  calms,]   Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto,  1622, 

reads — calmness.     STEEVENS. 

1  And  let  the  labouring  bark  climb  hills  of  seas, 

Olympus-high;  and  duck  again  as  loiv 

As  hell's  from  heaven.1']  So,  in  Sidney's  Arcadia,  B.I: 
"  The  sea,  making  mountaines  of  itself,  over  which  the  tossed 
and  tottering  ship  should  climbe,  to  be  straight  carried  downe 
againe  to  a  pit  of  hellish  darknesse."  STEEVENS. 

* . If  it  "were  now  to  die, 

'Tivere  notv  to  be  most  happy  ;~\  So,  Cherea,  in  The  Eunuch 
of  Terence,  Act  III.  sc.  v : 

"  . Proh  Jupiter ! 

"  Nunc  tempus  profecto  est,  cum  perpeti  me  possum  in- 

terfeci, 

"  Ne  vita  aliqua  hoc  gaudium  contaminet  aegritudine."  • 

MALONE. 

a  Even  as  our  days  do  grow !]  Here  is  one  of  those  evident 
interpolations  which  abound  in  our  author's  dramas.  Who  does 
not  perceive  that  the  words — Even  as  our  days,  refer  to  the 
verb— increase  in  the  foregoing  line  ?  Omit  therefore  the  pro- 
saick — do  grow,( which  is  perfectly  useless)  and  the  metre  will 
be  restored  to  its  original  regularity. 


sc.i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          321 

OTH.  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 ! 

I  AGO.  O,  you  are  well  tun'd  now  ! 

But  I'll  set  down5  the  pegs  that  make  this  musick, 
As  honest  as  I  am.  [Aside. 

OTH.  Come,  let's  to  the  castle. — 

News,  friends ; 6  our  wars  are  done,  the  Turks  are 
drown'd. 


Fenton  has  adopted  this  thought  in  his  Mariamne: 
"  And  mutual  passion  with  our  years  increase !" 

STEEVENS. 

4  And  this,  and  this,  &c.  Kissing  her.~\     So,  in  Marlowe's 
Lust's  Dominion  : 

"  I  pri'thee,  chide,  if  I  have  done  amiss, 
"  But  let  my  punishment  be  this  and  this."  [Kissing  the 
Moor.    MALONE. 

Marlowe's  play  was  written  before  that  of  Shakspeare,  who 
might  possibly  have  acted  in  it.  STEEVENS. 

5  I'll  set  down — ]     Thus  the  old  copies,  for  which  the 

modern  editors,  following  Mr.  Pope,  have  substituted — let  down. 
But  who  can  prove  that  to  set  down  was  not  the  language  of 
Shakspeare's  time,  when  a  viol  was  spoken  of? — To  set  formerly 
signified  to  tune,  though  it  is  no  longer  used  in  that  sense.     "  It 
was  then,"  says  Anthony  Wood  in  his  Diary,  "  that  I  set  and 
tuned  in  strings  and  fourths,"  &c.     So,  in  Skialetheia,  a  Col- 
lection of  Satires,  &c.  1598: 

" to  a  nimbler  key 

"  Set  thy  wind  instrument."     MALONE. 

To  "  set  down"  has  this  meaning  in  no  other  part  of  our  au- 
thor's works.  However,  virtus  post  nummos:  we  have  secured 
the  phrase,  and  the  exemplification  of  it  may  follow  when  it 
will.  STEEVENS. 

6  News,  friends ;~]  The  modern  editors  read  (after  Mr.  Rowe) 
A7otu friends.     I  would  observe  once  for  all,  that  (in  numberless 

VOL.  XIX.  Y 


322  OTHELLO,  ACT  It. 

How  do  our  old  acquaintance  of  this  isle  ? — 
Honey,  you  shall  be  well  desir'd  in  Cyprus,7 
I  have  found  great  love  amongst  them.  O  my 

sweet, 

I  prattle  out  of  fashion,8  and  I  dote 
In  mine  own  comforts. — I  pr'ythee,  good  lago, 
Go  to  the  bay,  and  disembark  my  coffers : 
Bring  thou  the  master9  to  the  citadel ; 
He  is  a  good  one,  and  his  worthiness 
Does  challenge  much  respect. — Come,  Desdemona, 
Once  more  well  met  at  Cyprus. 

\_~Rxeunt  OTHELLO,  DESDEMONA,  and  At- 
tendants. 

IAGO.  Do  thou  meet  me  presently  at  the  harbour. 
Come  hither.  If  thou  be'st  valiant  as  (they  say) 
base  men,  being  in  love,  have  then  a  nobility  in 


instances  in  this  play,  as  well  as  in  others,)  where  my  prede- 
cessors had  silently  and  without  reason  made  alterations,  I  have 
as  silently  restored  the  old  readings.  STEEVENS. 

7  well  desir'd  in  Cyprus,"]  i.  e.  much  solicited  by  invita- 
tion. So,  in  The  Letters  of  the  Paston  Family,  Vol.  I.  p.  299 : 
"  —  at  the  whych  weddyng  I  was  with  myn  hostes,  and  also  de- 
syryd  by  ye  jentylman  hymselfe."  STEEVENS. 

8 1  prattle  out  offashion,']  Out  of  method,  without  any  settled 
order  of  discourse.  JOHNSON. 

9  the  master — 3     Dr.  Johnson  supposed,  that  by  the 

master  was  meant  the  pilot  of  a  ship,  and  indeed  had  high  au- 
thority for  this  supposition ;  for  our  poet  himself  seems  to  have 
confounded  them.  See  Act  III.  sc.  ii.  1.  1.  But  the  master  is  a 
distinct  person,  and  has  the  principal  command,  and  care  of  the 
navigation  of  the  ship,  under  the  captain,  where  there  is  a  cap- 
tain ;  and  in  chief,  where  there  is  none.  The  pilot  is  employed 
only  in  navigating  the  ship  into  or  out  of  port.  MALONE. 

"  The  master  (says  Smith  in  his  Sea-Grammar,  1627,)  and 
his  mates,  are  to  direct  the  course,  command  all  the  sailors,  for 
Steering,  trimming,  and  sailing  the  ship,"  &c.  STBEVENS. 


sc.  2.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          323 

their  natures1  more  than  is  native  to  them, — list 
me.  The  lieutenant  to-night  watches  on  the  court 
of  guard:2 — First,  I  must  tell  thee  this — Desde- 
mona  is  directly  in  love  with  him. 

ROD.  With  him  !  why,  'tis  not  possible. 

I  AGO.  Lay  thy  finger — thus,3  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  love  him  still  for 
prating?4  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,5  and  to  give  satiety  a  fresh  appetite, 
— loveliness  in  favour;  sympathy  in  years, manners, 
and  beauties ;  all  which  the  Moor  is  defective  in  i 
Now,  for  want  of  these  required  conveniences,  her 
delicate  tenderness  will  find  itself  abused,  begin  to 
heave  the  gorge,  disrelish  and  abhor  the  Moor ; 

1  base  men,  being  in  love,  have  then  a  nobility  in  their 

natures — ]      So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Nature  is  fine  in  love."     MALONE. 

Dryden  has  imparted  lago's  present  sentiment  to  Dorax : 
"  Why  love  does  all  that's  noble  here  below." 

STEEVENS. 

3  the  court  of  'guard :]    i.  e.  the  place  where  the  guard 

musters.     So,  in  The  Family  of  Love,  1608: 

"  Thus  have  I  pass'd  the  round  and  court  of  guard?' 
Again,  in  The  Beggar's  Bush,  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher : 
"  Visit  your  courts  of  guard,  view  your  munition." 

STEEVENS. 

3  Lay  thy  finger — thus,']   On  thy  mouth,  to  stop  it  while  thou 
art  listening  to  a  wiser  man.     JOHNSON. 

4  And  will  she  love  him  still  for  prating?']     The  folio  reads 
To  love  him  still  for  prating !     STEEVENS. 

*  again  to  inflame  it,"]     Thus  the  quarto3  1622*     The 

folio  reads — a  game.    STEEVENS. 

Y  2 


324  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

very  nature  will  instruct  her  in  it,  and  compel  her 
to  some  second  choice.  Now,  sir,  this  granted,  (as 
it  is  a  most  pregnant  and  unforced  position,)  who 
stands  so  eminently  in  the  degree  of  this  fortune, 
as  Cassio  does  ?  a  knave  very  voluble  ;  no  further 
conscionable,  than  in  putting  on  the  mere  form  of 
civil  and  humane  seeming,6  for  the  better  com- 
passing of  his  salt  and  most  hidden  loose  affection  ? 
why,  none ;  why,  none :  A  slippery  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 
minds7  look  after :  A  pestilent  complete  knave ; 
and  the  woman  hath  found  him  already. 

ROD.  I  cannot  believe  that  in  her ;  she  is  full 
of  most  blessed  condition.8 

IAGO.  Blessed  fig's  end !  the  wine  she  drinks  is 
made  of  grapes  :  if  she  had  been  blessed,  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  ? 

ROD.  Yes,  that  I  did ;  but  that  was  but  courtesy. 

IAGO.  Lechery,  by  this  hand ;  an  index,  and 
obscure  prologue  to  the  history  of  lust  and  foul 
thoughts.9  They  met  so  nearwiththeirlips,thattheir 


0  and  humane  seeming,']     Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto, 

1622,  reads — and  hand-seeming,     MALONE. 

7  green  minds — ]     Minds  unripe,  minds  not  yet  fully 

formed.     JOHNSON. 

s  condition.']    Qualities,  disposition  of  mind.    JOHNSON. 

See  Vol.  XII.  p.  521,  n.  7.    MALONE. 

9 an  index,  and  obscure  prologue  &c.]  That  indexes  were 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          325 

breaths  embraced  together.  Villainous  thoughts, 
Roderigo !  when  these  mutualities  sp  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 
not  be  far  from  you :  Do  you  find  some  occasion  to 
anger  Cassio,  either  by  speaking  too  loud,  or  taint- 
ing1 his  discipline;  or  from  what  other  course2 
you  please,  which  the  time  shall  more  favourably 
minister. 

ROD.  Well. 

I  AGO.  Sir,  he  is  rash,  and  very  sudden  in  choler;3 
and,  haply,  with  his  truncheon  may  strike  at  you : 
Provoke  him,  that  he  may :  for,  even  out  of  that, 


formerly  prefixed  to  books,  appears  from  a  passage  in  Troilus 
and  Cressida.  See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  241,  n.  3;  and  Vol.  XV. 
p.  236,  n.  3.  MALONE. 

1  tainting — ]     Throwing  a  slur  upon  his  discipline. 

JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida: 

"  In  taint  of  our  best  man." 

Again,  in  Chapman's  translation  of  the  22d  Odyssey: 
"  Ctesippus,  over  good  Eumseus'  shield 
"  His  shoulder's  top  did  taint." 

To  taint,  in  this  instance,  means — to  htftict  a  slight  mound. 
Again,  in  the  3d  Iliad,  4to.  1598,  by  the  same  translator: 

"  Eight  shafts  I  shot 

"  Yet  this  wilde  dogge,  with  all  my  aime,  I  have  no 
power  to  taint"     STEEVENS. 

1  other  course — ]   The  first  quarto  reads — cause. 

STEEVENS. 

3  sudden  in  choler  ;]    Sudden,  is  precipitately  violent. 

JOHNSON. 

So,  Malcolm,  describing  Macbeth : 
"  I  grant  him  bloody ,- 


"  Sudden,  malicious."     STEEVENS. 


326  OTHELLO,  ACT  n. 

will  I  cause  these  of  Cyprus  to  mutiny ;  whose 
qualification  shall  come  into  no  true  taste  again,4 
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  ;5  and  the  impedi- 
ment most  profitably  removed,  without  the  which 
there  were  no  expectation  of  our  prosperity. 

ROD.  I  will  do  this,  if  I  can  bring  it  to  any  op- 
portunity.6 

IAGO.  I  warrant  thee.  Meet  me  by  and  by  at 
the  citadel :  I  must  fetch  his  necessaries  ashore. 
Farewell. 

ROD.  Adieu.  [Exit. 

IAGO.  That  Cassio  loves  her,  I  do  well  believe  it; 
That  she  loves  him,  'tis  apt,  and  of  great  credit : 
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, 

4  whose  qualification  shall  come  &c.]  Whose  resentment 

shall  not  be  so  qualified  or  tempered,  as  to  be  well  tasted,  as  not 
to  retain  some  bitterness.  The  phrase  is  harsh,  at  least  to  our 
ears.  JOHNSON. 

Johnson's  explanation  is  confirmed  by  what  Cassio  says  in  the 
next  scene :  "  I  have  drunk  but  one  cup  to-night,  and  that  was 
craftily  qualified"  i.  e.  allayed  by  water.  M.  MASON. 

no  true  taste — ]  So  the  folio.  The  quarto,  1 622,  reads 

- — no  true  trust.  MA  LONE. 

*  to  prefer  them;']  i.  e.  to  advance  them.  So,  in  A  Mid- 
summer-Night's Dream  :  "  The  short  and  the  long  is,  our  play 
is  preferred.'1  MALONE. 

See  Vol.  XVI.  p.  421 ,  n.  9.     STE EVENS. 

6  if  I  can  bring  it  to  any  opportunity.']  Thus  the  quarto.. 

1622.  The  folio  reads — if  you  can  bring  it,  &c.  MALONE. 


sc.  r.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          327 

For  that  I  do  suspect  the  lusty  Moor 

Hath  leap'd  into  my  seat :  the  thought  whereof 

Doth,  like  a  poisonous  mineral,7  gnaw  my  inwards; 

And  nothing  can  or  shall  content  my  soul, 

Till  I  am  even  with  him,8  wife  for  wife ; 

Or,  failing  so,  yet  that  I  put  the  Moor 

At  least  into  a  jealousy  so  strong 

That  judgment  cannot  cure.  Which  thing  to  do, — 

If  this  poor  trash  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash 

For  his  quick  hunting,  stand  the  putting  on,9 


7  like  a  poisonous  mineral,']     This  is  philosophical.    Mi- 
neral poisons  kill  by  corrosion.     JOHNSON. 

*  Till  I  am  even  ivith  him,']  Thus  the  quarto,  1622;  the  first 
folio  reads : 

Till  I  am  even'd  -with  him. 
i.  e.  Till  I  am  on  a  level  with  him  by  retaliation. 
So,  in  Hey  wood's  Iron  Age,  1632,  Second  Part: 

"  The  stately  walls  he  rear'd,  levell'd,  and  even'd." 
Again,  in  Tancred  and  Gismund,  1592: 

"  For  now  the  walls  are  even'd  with  the  plain." 
Again,  in  Stanyhurst's  translation  of  the  first  Book  of  Virgil's 
JEneid,  1582: — "  numerum  cum  navibus  cequat — ." 

" with  the  ships  the  number  is  even'd." 

STEEVENS. 

*  Which  thing  to  do, — 

If  this  poor  trash  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash 
For  his  quick  hunting,  stand  the  putting  on,~]     The  quarto, 
1622,  has — crush,  the  folio  reads — trace,  an  apparent  corruption 
of — trash  ;  for  as  to  the  idea  of  crushing  a  dog,  to  prevent  him 
from  quick  hunting,  it  is  too  ridiculous  to  be  defended. 

To  trash,  is  still  a  hunter's  phrase,  and  signifies  ( See  Vol.  IV. 
p.  17,  n.  5,)  to  fasten  a  weight  on  the  neck  of  a  dog,  when  his 
speed  is  superior  to  that  of  his  companions.  Thus,  says  Cara- 
tach,  in  The  Bonduca  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  (the  quotation 
was  the  late  Mr.  T.  Warton's,  though  misunderstood  by  him  as 
to  its  appropriate  meaning) : 
-I  fled  too, 


"  But  not  so  fast ;  your  jewel  had  been  lost  then, 
"  Young  Hengo  there:  he  trash' d  me,  Nennius, — ,' 
e.  he  was  the  clog  that  restrained  my  activity. 


328  OTHELLO,       .  ACT  II. 

I'll  have  our  Michael  Cassio  on  the  hip;1 
Abuse  him  to  the  Moor  in  the  rank  garb,2 — 


This  sense  of  the  word — trash  has  been  so  repeatedly  confirm- 
ed to  me  by  those  whom  I  cannot  suspect  of  wanting  informa- 
tion relative  to  their  most  favourite  pursuits,  that  I  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  throw  off  the  load  of  unsatisfactory  notes  with  which  the 
passage  before  us  has  hitherto  been  oppressed. 

The  same  idea  occurs  also  in  the  epistle  dedicatory  to  Dry- 
den's  Rival  Ladies :  "  Imagination  in  a  poet  is  a  faculty  so  wild 
and  lawless,  that,  like  a  high-ranging  spaniel,  it  must  have  clogs 
tied  to  it,  lest  it  outrun  the  judgement," 

Trash,  in  the  first  instance,  (though  Dr.  Warburton  would 
change  it  into — brack,)  may  be  used  to  signify  a  worthless 
hound,  as  the  same  term  is  afterwards  employed  to  describe  a 
worthless  female : 

"  Gentlemen  all,  I  do  suspect  this  trash." 

It  is  scarce  necessary  to  support  the  present  jingle  of  the 
word — trash,  by  examples,  it  is  so  much  in  our  author's  man- 
ner, although  his  worst. 

Stand  the  putting  on,  may  mean — does  not  start  too  soon 
after  Desdemona,  and  so  destroy  my  scheme  by  injudicious  pre- 
cipitation. But  I  rather  think,  these  words  have  reference  to 
the  enterprize  of  provoking  Cassio,  and  will  then  imply — if  he 
has  courage  enough  for  the  attempt  to  txitiich  I  have  just  incited, 
or  put  him  on.  For  an  example  of  the  latter  phrase,  see  p.  316, 
n.  8.  STEEVENS. 

That  Mr.  Steevens  has  given  the  true  explanation  of — to 
trash,  is  fixed  by  the  succeeding  authority  from  Harrington, 
where  it  unquestionably  means  to  impede  the  progress:  "  — pro- 
longation of  magistracy,  trashing  the  wheel  of  rotation,  destroys 
the  life  or  natural  motion  of  a  commonwealth."  Works,  p.  303, 
fol.  1747.  HOLT  WHITE. 

1  'I'll  have  our  Michael  Cassio  on  the  hip;~\  A  phrase  from 
the  art  of  wrestling.  JOHNSON. 

8  in  the  rank  garb,']     Thus  the  quarto,  and,  I  think, 

rightly.      Rank  garb,   I  believe,  means  grossly,   i.  e.  without 
mincing  the  matter.     So,  in  Marston's  Dutch  Courtezan,  1604: 
"  Whither,  in  the  rank  name  of  madness,  whither?'* 

The  term — garb  (employed  perhaps  in  the  sense  here  re- 
quired) occurs  in  the  eighteenth  Book  of  Homer's  Odyssey,  as 
translated  by  Chapman : 


8C..II.-      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          329 

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  confus'd; 
Knavery's  plain  face  is  never  seen,3  till  us'd. 


SCENE    II. 

A  Street. 

Enter  a  Herald,  'with  a  Proclamation;  People  fol- 
lowing. 


O  ' 


HER.  It  is  Othello's  pleasure,  our  noble  and  va- 
liant general,  that,upon  certain  tidings  now  arrived, 
importing  the  mere  perdition4  of  the  Turkish  fleet, 


But  li-jre  you  must  take  confidence  to  prate 

Before  all  these ;  for  fear  can  get  no  state 

In  your  wine-hard)'  stomach.     Or  tis  like 

To  prove  your  native  garb,  your  tongue  will  strike 

On  this  side  of  your  mouth  still."     STEEVENS. 

The  folio  reads — in  the  right  garb.  Rank,  perhaps,  means 
not  only  gross,  but  lascivious.  So,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice: 

" the  ewes,  being  rank, 

"  In  end  of  autumn,"  &c.    MALONE. 

3  Knavery's  plain  Jace  is  never  seen,']  An  honest  man  acts 
upon  a  plan,  and  forecasts  his  designs;  but  a  knave  depends 
upon  temporary  and  local  opportunities,  and  never  knows  his 
own  purpose,  but  at  the  time  of  execution.  JOHNSON. 

mere  perdition — ]     Mere  in  this  place  signifies  entire. 

So,  in  Hamlet: 

" possess  it  merely."     STEEVENS. 


330  OTHELLO,  ACT  n. 

every  man  put  himself  into  triumph  ;5  someto  dance, 
some  to  make  bonfires,  each  man  to  what  sport  and 
revels  his  addiction6  leads  him  ;  for,  besides  these 
beneficial  news,  it  is  the  celebration  of  his  nuptials: 
So  much  was  his  pleasure  should  be  proclaimed. 
All  offices  are  open  ;7  and  there  is  full  liberty  of 
feasting,8  from  this  present  hour  of  five,  till  the 
bell  hath  told  eleven.  Heaven  bless  the  isle  of 
Cyprus,  and  our  noble  general,  Othello !  \_Exeunt. 


SCENE  III. 

A  Hall  in  the  Castle. 

Enter  OTHELLO,  DESDEMONA,  CASSIO,  and  At- 
tendants. 

OTH.  Good  Michael,  look  you  to  the  guard  to- 
night : 

Let's  teach  ourselves  that  honourable  stop. 
Not  to  out-sport  discretion. 

CAS.  lago  hath  direction  what  to  do ; 

5  put  himself  into  triumph;'}  This  whimsical  phraseology 

occurs  again  in  Pericles,  Prince  of'  Tyre: 

"  So  puts  himself  into  the  shipman's  toil."     STEEVENS. 

6  his  addiction — ]  The  first  quarto  reads — his  mind. 

STEEVENS. 

7  All  offices  are  open;}  i.  e.  all  rooms,  or  places,  in  the  castle, 
at  which  refreshments  are  prepared,  or  served  out.     So,  in 
Macbeth  ; 

"  Sent  forth  great  largess  to  your  offices." 
See  Vol.  X.  p.  94°,  n.  8.     STEEVENS. 

8  of  feasting,'}  These  words  are  not  in  the  original  quarto, 

1622.     M  ALONE. 


ae.  in.     THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          331 

But,  notwithstanding,  with  my  personal  eye 
Will  I  look  to't. 

OTH.  lago  is  most  honest. 

Michael,  good  night :  To-morrow,  with  our  earliest, 
Let  me  have  speech  with  you. — Come,  my  dear  love. 
The  purchase  made,  the  fruits  are  to  ensue ; 

[To  DESDEMONA. 

That  profit's  yet  to  come  'twixt  me  and  you. — 
Good  night.  \_Exeunt  OTH.  DES.  and  Attend* 

Enter  I  AGO. 

CAS,  Welcome,  lago :  We  must  to  the  watch. 

IAGO.  Not  this  hour,  lieutenant ;  'tis  not  yet  ten 
o'clock :  Our  general  cast  us9  thus  early,  for  the 
love  of  his  Desdemona ;  whom  let  us  not  therefore 
blame  ;  he  hath  not  yet  made  wanton  the  night  with 
her :  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  is  a  most  fresh  and  delicate 

creature. 


9  Our  general  cast  us — ]  That  is,  appointed  us  to  our  sta- 
tions. To  cast  the  play,  is,  in  the  style  of  the  theatres,  to  assign 
to  every  actor  his  proper  part.  JOHNSON*. 

We  have  just  now  been  assured  by  the  Herald,  that  there  was 
"  full  liberty  of  feasting  &c.  till  eleven" 

Perhaps  therefore  cast  us  only  means  dismissed  us,  or  got  rid 
of  our  company.  So,  in  one  of  the  following  scenes:  "  You  are 
but  now  cast  in  his  mood;"  i.  e.  turned  out  of  your  office  in  his 
anger;  and  in  the  first  scene  it  means  to  dismiss. 

So,  in  The  WITCH,  a  MS.  tragi-comedy,  by  Middleton : 
"  She  cast  off" 
"  My  company  betimes  to-night,  by  tricks,"  &c. 

STEEVENS, 


332  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

I  AGO.  What  an  eye  she  has  1  methinks  it  sounds 
a  parley  of  provocation.1 

CAS.  An  inviting  eye ;  and  yet  methinks  right 
modest. 

I  AGO.  And,  when  she  speaks,  is  it  not  an  alarm2 
to  love  ?3 

CAS.  She  is,  indeed,  perfection.4 

I  AGO.  Well,  happiness  to  their  sheets !  Come, 
lieutenant,  I  have  a  stoop  of  wine  ;  and  here  with- 
out are  a  brace  of  Cyprus  gallants,  that  would 
fain  have  a  measure  to  the  health  of  the  black 
Othello. 

'CAS.  Not  to-night,  good  lago  ;  I  have  very  poor 
and  unhappy  brains  for  drinking :  I  could  well  wish 
courtesy  would  invent  some  other  custom  of  enter- 
tainment. 

I  AGO.  O,  they  are  our  friends ;  but  one  cup  :  I'll 
drink  for  you. 

CAS.  I  have  drunk  but  one  cup  to-night,  and 


1  a  parley  of  provocation.']    So  the  quarto,  1622.     Folio 

— to  provocation.     MALONE. 

4  an  alarm — ]  The  voice  may  sound  an  alarm  more  pro- 
perly than  the  eye  can  sound  &  parley.  JOHNSON. 

The  eye  is  often  said  to  speak.  Thus  we  frequently  hear  of 
the  language  of  the  eye.  Surely  that  which  can  talk  may,  with- 
out any  violent  stretch  of  the  figure  be  allowed  to  sound  a  parley. 
The  folio  reads — parley  to  provocation.  RITSON. 

So,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida: 

"  There's  language  in  her  eye,"  &c. 
See  Vol.  XV.  p.  406,  n.  3.     STEEVENS. 

3  is  it  not  an  alarm  to  love ?~]    The  quartos  read — 'tis  an 

alarm  to  love.     STEEVENS. 

4  She  is,  indeed,  perfection.^     In  this  and  the  seven  short 
speeches  preceding,  the  decent  character  of  Cassio  is  most  power- 
fully contrasted  with  that  of  the  licentious  lago.     STEEVENS. 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          333 

that  was  craftily  qualified5  too,  and,  behold,  what 
innovation  it  makes  here  :  I  am  unfortunate  in  the 
infirmity,  and  dare  not  task  my  weakness  with  any 
more. 

IAGO.  What,  man !  'tis  a  night  of  revels ;  the 
gallants  desire  it. 

CAS.  Where  are  they  ? 

IAGO.  Here  at  the  door ;  I  pray  you,  call  them 
in. 

CAS.  I'll  do't ;  but  it  dislikes  me. 

\_Exit  CASSIO. 

IAGO.  If  I  can  fasten  but  one  cup  upon  him, 
With  that  which  lie  hath  drunk  to-night  already, 
He'll  be  as  full  of  quarrel  and  offence 
As  my  young  mistress'  dog.     Now,  my  sick  fool, 

lloderigo, 

Whom  love  has  turn'd  almost  the  wrong  side  out- 
ward, 

To  Desdemona  hath  to-night  carous'd 
Potations  pottle  deep ;  and  he's  to  watch  : 
Three  lads  of  Cyprus,6 — noble  swelling  spirits, 
That  hold  their  honours  in  a  wary  distance, 
The  very  elements7  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  mav  offend  the  isle  : — But  here  thev  come  : 


*  craftily  qualified — ]     Slily  mixed  with  water. 

JOHNSON. 

6  Three  lads  of  Cyprus,"]    The  folio  reads — Three  else  of  Cy- 
prus.    STEEVENS. 

7  The  very  elements — ]      As  quarrelsome  as  the  discordia 
semina  rerum;  as  quick  in  opposition  as  fire  and  water. 

JOHNSON. 


OTHELLO,  ACT  u. 

If  consequence  do  but  approve  my  dream,8 
My  boat  sails  freely,  both  with  wind  and  stream. 

Re-enter  CASSIO,  with  him  MONTANO,  and  Gen- 
tlemen. 

CAS.  Tore  heaven,  they  have  given  me  a  rouse 
already.9 

MON.  Good  faith,  a  little  one  ;  not  past  a  pint, 
as  I  am  a  soldier.1 

IAGO.  Some  wine,  ho ! 

And  let  me  the  canaldn?  clink,  clink;      [Sings. 
And  let  me  the  canakin  clink: 

A  soldier's  a  man;- 

A  life's  but  a  span  / 3 
Why  then,  let  a  soldier  drink. 


6  If  consequence  do  lut  approve  my  dream,]  Every  scheme; 
subsisting  only  in  the  imagination  may  be  termed  a  dream. 

JOHNSON. 

9  given  me  a  rouse  $c.~]  A  rouse  appears  to  be  a  quan- 
tity of  liquor  rather  too  large. 

So,  in  Hamletj  and  in  The  Christian  turn'd  Turk,  1612: 

"  our  friends  may  tell 

"  We  drank  a  rouse  to  them." 
See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  61,  n.  1.     STEEVENS. 

1  As  I  am  a  soldier.']  If  Montano  was  Othello's  predecessor 
in  the  government  of  Cyprus,  (as  we  are  told  in  the  Persona; 
Dramatis,)  he  is  not  very  characteristically  employed  in  the 
present  scene,  where  he  is  tippling  with  people  already  flustered, 
and  encouraging  a  subaltern  officer  who  commands  a  midnight 
guard,  to  drink  to  excess.  STEEVENS. 

2 the  canakin — ~]   So,  in  Barclay's  Ship  of  Fools,  fol.  229  : 

"  — some  quafes  ye  canakin  halfe  full"  &c.     STEEVENS. 

3  A  life's  Lut  a  span;~\     Thus  the  quarto.     The  folio  reads — 
Oh  man's  life  lut  a  span.     STEEVENS. 


ac.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          335 

Some  wine,  boys !  [  Wine  brought  in. 

CAS.  'Fore  heaven,  an  excellent  song. 

IAGO.  I  learned  it  in  England,  where  (indeed) 
they  are  most  potent  in  potting :  *  your  Dane,  your 
German,5  and  your  swag-bellied  Hollander, — 
Drink,  ho  ! — are  nothing  to  your  English. 

CAS.  Is  your  Englishman  so  expert  in  his  drink- 
ing?6 

IAGO.  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  filled. 

CAS.  To  the  health  of  our  general. 

MON.  I  am  for  it,  lieutenant;  and  I'll  do  you 
justice.7 

IAGO.  O  sweet  England ! 


4  in  England,  where  (indeed)  they  are  most  potent  in  pot- 
ting:'] Les  meilleurs  buveurs  en  Angleterre, is  an  ancient  French 
proverb.     STEEVENS. 

5  most  potent  in  potting:  your  Dane,  your  German,  #c.J 

"  Enquire  at  ordinaries :  there  must  be  sallets  for  the  Italian, 
tooth-picks  for  the  Spaniard, pots  for  the  German!"     Prologue 
to  Lyly's  Midas,  1592.     MALONE. 

your  Dane,]    See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  66,  n.  6.     STEEVENS. 

6  50  expert  in  his  drinking?]     Thus  the  quarto,  1622. 

Folio — so  exquisite.     This  accomplishment  in  the  English  is  like- 
wise mentioned  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  in  The  Captain: 

"  Lod.  Are  the  Englishmen 
"  Such  stubborn  drinkers  ? 

"  Piso. not  a  leak  at  sea 

"  Can  suck  more  liquor ;  you  shall  have  their  children 
"  Christen'd  in  mull'd  sack,  and  at  five  years  old 
"  Able  to  knock  a  Dane  down."     STEEVENS. 

7  I'll  do  you  justice.]     i.  e.  drink  as  much  as  you  do, 

See  Vol.  XII.  p.  237,  n.  5.     STEEVENS. 


336  OTHELLO, 


King  Stephen8  'was  a  worthy  peer,9 
His  breeches  cost  him  but  a  crown; 

He  held  them  sixpence  all  too  dear, 
With  that  he  call'd  the  tailor — lown.1 

He  was  a  wight  of  high  renown, 
And  thou  art  but  of  low  degree : 

'Tis  pride  that  pulls  the  country  down, 
Then  take  thine  auld  cloak  about  thee. 

Some  wine,  ho ! 

CAS.  Why,  this  is  a  more  exquisite  song  than  the 
other. 

IAGO.  Will  you  hear  it  again  ? 

CAS.  No ;  for  I  hold  him  to  be  unworthy  of  his 
place,  that  does  those  things. — Well, — Heaven's 
above  all ;  and  there  be  souls  that  must  be  saved, 
and  there  be  souls  must  not  be  saved. 


8  King  Stephen  &c.]     These  stanzas  are  taken  from  an  old 
song,  which  the  reader  will  find  recovered  and  preserved  in  a 
curious  work  lately  printed,  entitled,  Relicks  of  Ancient  Poetry, 
consisting  of  old  heroick  ballads,  songs,  &c.  3  Vols.  12mo. 

JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Greene's  Quip  for  an  upstart  Courtier:  "King  Ste- 
phen wore  a  pair  of  cloth  breeches  of  a  noble  a  pair,  and  thought 
them  passing  costly."  STEEVENS. 

9  a  worthy  peer,]    i.e.  a  worthy  fellow.     In  this  sense 

peer,  fere,  pheere,  are  often  used  by  the  writers  of  our  earliest 
romances.     STEEVENS. 

A  worthy  peer  is  a  worthy  lord,  a  title  frequently  bestowed 
upon  kings  in  our  old  romances.  So,  in  Amadis  de  Gaule,  1619  : 
"  Sir,  although  you  be  a  king  and  a  great  lord."  Spenser  con- 
stantly uses  the  word  peer  in  this  sense.  Pheere  is  in  every  re- 
spect a  very  different  word.  RITSON. 

1  loivn.']     Sorry  fellow,  paltry  wretch.    JOHNSON. 


sc.  in.     THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          337 

IAGO.  It's  true,  good  lieutenant. 
CAS.  For  mine  own  part, — no  offence  to  the  gene- 
ral, nor  any  man  of  quality, — I  hope  to  be  saved. 

IAGO.  And  so  do  I  too,  lieutenant. 

CAS.  Ay,  but,  by  your  leave,  not  before  me ;  the 
lieutenant  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,  gentlemen,  I  am  drunk ;  this  is  my 
ancient ; — this  is  my  right  hand,  and  this  is  my  left 
hand : — I  am  not  drunk  now ;  I  can  stand  well 
enough,  and  speak  well  enough. 

ALL.  Excellent  well. 

CAS.  Why,  very  well,  then  :  you  must  not  think 
tli en  that  I  am  drunk.  \JExit. 

MON.  To  the  platform,  masters ;  come,  let's  set 
the  watch. 

IAGO.  You  see  this  fellow,  that  is  gone  before ; — 
He  is  a  soldier,  fit  to  stand  by  Caesar 
And  give  direction  :  and  do  but  see  his  vice ; 
'Tis  to  his  virtue  a  just  equinox, 
The  one  as  long  as  the  other :  'tis  pity  of  him. 
I  fear,  the  trust  Othello  puts  him  in, 
On  some  odd  time  of  his  infirmity, 
Will  shake  this  island. 

MON.  But  is  he  often  thus  ? 

IAGO.  'Tis  evermore  the  prologue  to  his  sleep : 
He'll  watch  the  horologe  a  double  set,2 


*  He'll  watch  the  horologe  a  double  set,  &c.]  If  he  have  no 
drink,  he'll  keep  awake  while  the  clock  strikes  two  rounds,  or 
four-and-twenty  hours. 

Chaucer  uses  the  word  horologe  in  more  places  than  one ; 
"  Well  sickerer  was  his  crowing  in  his  loge 
"  Than  is  a  clok  or  any  abbey  orloge."     JOHNSON. 
xTOL.  XIX.  Z 


338  OTHELLO,  ACT  11. 

If  drink  rock  not  his  cradle. 

MON.  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  j  Is  not  this  true  ? 

Enter  RODERIGO. 

I  AGO.  How  now,  Roderigo?  \_Aslde. 

I  pray  you,  after  the  lieutenant ;  go. 

[Exit  RODERIGO. 

MON.  And  'tis  great  pity,  that  the  noble  Moor 
Should  hazard  such  a  place,  as  his  own  second, 
With  one  of  an  ingraft  infirmity:3 


So,  Hey  wood,  in  his  Epigrams  on  Proverbs,  1562 : 
"  The  divell  is  in  thorologe,  the  houres  to  trye, 
"  Searche  houres  by  the  sunne,  the  devyl's  dyal  wyll 

lye: 

"  The  devyl  is  in  thorologe,  nowe  cheere  in  bowles, 
"  Let  the  devyl  keepe  our  clockes,  while  God  keepe  our 
soules." 

Again,  in  The  Devil's  Charter,  1607 : 

" my  gracious  lord, 

"  By  Sisto's  horologe  'tis  struck  eleven."     STEEVENS. 

•ingraft  infirmity :]     An  infirmity  rooted,  settled  in  his 


constitution.     JOHNSON. 

Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  seems  to  fall  short  of  the  poet's 
meaning.  The  qualities  of  a  tree  are  so  changed  by  being  en- 
grafted, that  its  future  fruits  are  not  such  as  would  have  natu- 
rally sprung  from  the  stock,  but  derive  their  qualities  from  the 
graft  inserted  into  it.  Conformably  to  this  idea,  is  the  assertion 
of  Hamlet  concerning  the  same  vice  in  his  countrymen  : 
"  They  clepe  us  drunkards,"  &c. 

See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  66.     HENLEY. 

Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  is  certainly  just,  though  it  has  been 
controverted.     So,  in  King  Lear;  " — then  must  we  look  to 


so.  in.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          339 

It  were  an  honest  action,  to  say 
So  to  the  Moor. 

I  AGO.  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? 

[Cry  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.4 

ROD.  Beat  me ! 

CAS.  Dost  thou  prate,  rogue  ? 

[Striking  RODERIGO. 

MON.  Nay,  good  lieutenant ; 

[Staying  Mm. 
I  pray  you,  sir,  hold  your  hand. 

CAS.  Let  me  go,  sir, 

Or  I'll  knock  you  o'er  the  mazzard. 

MON.  Come,  come,  you're  drunk. 

CAS.  Drunk  !  [They jight. 

IAGO.  Away,  I  say !  go  out,  and  cry — a  mutiny. 
[Aside  to  ROD.  who  goes  out. 
Nay,  good  lieutenant, — alas,  gentlemen, — 
Help,  ho  ! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — sir ; — 
Help,  masters ! — Here's  a  goodly  watch,  indeed ! 

[Bell  rings. 

receive  from  his  age  not  alone  the  imperfection  of  long  ingrafted 
condition,  but  there-withal,"  &c.     MALONE. 

4  into  a  tuiiggen  bottle. ]    A  twiggen  bottle  is  a  wickered 

bottle;  and  so  the  quarto  read*.     STEEVENS. 

z  2 


340  OTHELLO,  ACT  u. 


Who's  that  that  rings  the  bell  ?— Diablo,5  ho ! 
The  town  will  rise :  God's  will,  lieutenant !  hold  -7 
You  will  be  sham'd  for  ever. 

Enter  OTHELLO,  and  Attendants. 

OTH.  What  is  the  matter  here  ? 

MON.  I  bleed  still,  I  am  hurt  to  the  death  ; — he 

dies.6 
OTH.  Hold,  for  your  lives. 

IAGO.  Hold,  hold,  lieutenant,7 — sir,  Montano, — 
gentlemen, — 

DiaUo,~]     I  meet  with  this  exclamation  in  Marlowe's 


King  Edward  II.  1598:  "Diablo?  what  passions  call  you 
these?" 

It  is,  as  Mr.  M.  Mason  observes,  a  mere  contraction  ofDiavolo, 
the  Italian  word  for  the  Devil.  STEEVENS. 

c  I  bleed  still,  I  am  hurl  to  the  death; — he  dies.]  The  first 
quarto  reads — 'Zounds,  I  bleed  &c.  STEEVENS. 

The  editor  of  the  folio,  thinking  it  necessary  to  omit  the  first 
word  in  the  line,  absurdly  supplied  its  place  by  adding  at  the  end 
of  the  line,  He  dies. 

I  had  formerly  inadvertently  said,  that  the  marginal  direction,, 
He  faints,  was  found  in  the  quarto,  1622:  but  this  was  a  mis- 
take. It  was  inserted  in  a  quarto  of  no  value  or  authority, 
printed  in  1630.  MALONE. 

1  am  hurt  to  the  death; — he  dies.]     Montana  thinks  he 

is  mortally  wounded,  yet  by  these  words  he  seems  determined  to 
continue  the  duel,  and  to  kill  his  antagonist  Cassio.  So,  when 
Roderigo  runs  at  Cassio  in  the  fifth  Act,  he  says, — "  Villain, 
thou  diest."  TOLLET. 

He  dies,  i.  e.  he  shall  die.  He  may  be  supposed  to  say  this 
as  he  is  offering  to  renew  the  fight. 

Thus  likewise  Othello  himself,  in  his  very  next  speech  : 

"  . he  dies  upon  his  motion." 

I  do  not  therefore  regard  these  words,  when  uttered  by  Montano, 
as  an  absurd  addition  in  the  first  folio.  STEEVENS. 

7  Hold,  hold,  lieutenant,]  Thus  the  original  quarto.  The 
folio  reads — Hold  ho,  lieutenant.  MALONE. 


«c.  ///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          341 

Have  you  forgot  all  sense  of  place  and  duty?8 
Hold,  hold !  the  general  speaks  to  you ;  hold,  for 
shame ! 

OTH.  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,9 
Holds  his  soul  light ;  he  dies  upon  his  motion. — 
Silence  that  dreadful  bell,1  it  frights  the  isle 
From  her  propriety.2 — What  is  the  matter,  mas> 

ters  ? — 
Honest  lago,  that  look'st  dead  with  grieving, 


s  all  sense  of  place  and  duty  ?~\   So  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer. 

The  rest : 

all  place  of  sense  and  duty?     JOHNSON. 

9  to  carve  for  his  own  rage,~\   Thus  the  folio,  1623.    The 

quarto,  1622,  has  forth;  which  I  apprehend  to  be  little  better 
than  nonsense. 

To  "  c&r\eforth"  <Src.  can  only  signify — to  cut  or  portion  out 
his  resentment ;  whereas,  the  phrase  I  have  placed  in  the^text, 
affords  the  obvious  and  appropriate  meaning — to  supply  food  or 
gratification  for  his  own  anger. 

The  same  phrase  occurs  in  Hamlet: 

"  He  may  not,  as  unvalued  persons  do, 
"  Carve  for  himself."     STEEVENS. 

1  Silence  that  dreadful  lell,~\  It  was  a  common  practice  for- 
merly,  when  any  great  aft'ray  happened  in  a  town,  to  ring  the 
alarum  bell.  When  David  Rizzio  was  murdered  at  Edinburgh, 
the  Provost  ordered  the  common  bell  to  be  rung,  and  five  hun- 
dred persons  were  immediately  assembled.  See  Saunderson's 
History  of  Queen  Mary,  p.  41.  MALONE. 

At  Paris  the  Tocsin  is  still  rung  as  often  as  fires  or  disturbances 
break  out.  STEEVENS. 

*  it  frights  the  isle 

From  her  propriety.]     From  her  regular  and.  proper  state. 

JOHNSON. 


342  OTHELLO,  ACT  u. 

Speak,  who  began  this  ?  on  thy  love,  I  charge  thee. 

I  AGO.  I  do  not  know ; — friends  all  but  now,  even 

now, 
In  quarter,3  and  in  terms  like  bride  and  groom 

3  In  quarter,'}  In  their  quarters  ;  at  their  lodging.    JOHNSON. 

Rather  at  peace,  quiet.  They  had  been  on  that  very  spot  ( the 
court  or  platform,  it  is  presumed  before  the  castle,)  ever  since 
Othello  left  them,  which  can  scarcely  be  called  being  in  their 
quarters,  or  at  their  lodging.  RITSON. 

So,  in  The  Dumb  Knight,  Act  III.  sc.  i : 
"  Did  not  you  hold  fair  quarter  and  commerce  with  all  the 
spies  of  Cypres  ?"     REED. 

It  required  one  example,  if  no  more,  to  evince  that  in  quar- 
ter ever  signified  quiet,  at  peace.  But  a  little  attention  would 
have  shown,  that  the  them,  whom  he  speaks  of  Othello's  having 
left,  was  only  Cassio ;  who,  being  joined  by  lago,  where  Othello 
(but  not  on  the  platform]  had  just  left  him,  is  dissuaded  from 
setting  the  watch  immediately ;  entreated  to  partake  of  a  stoop 
of  wine,  in  company  with  a  brace  of  Cyprus  gallants,  then 
waiting  without ;  and  prevailed  upon,  though  reluctantly,  to  in- 
vite them  in.  In  this  apartment  the  carousal  happens,  and  wine 
is  repeatedly  called  for,  till  at  last  Cassio,  finding  its  too  powerful 
effects,  goes  out  to  set  the  watch.  At  the  proposal  of  Montano, 
himself  and  lago  follow  Cassio  towards  the  platform,  and  the 
latter  sets  on  Roderigo  to  insult  him.  The  scuffle  ensues ;  an 
alarm  is  given,  and  Othello  comes  forth  to  inquire  the  cause. 
When,  therefore,  lago  answers  : 

"  I  do  not  know : — friends  all  but  now,  even  now 

"  In  quarter, " 

it  is  evident  the  quarter  referred  to,  was  that  apartment  of  the 
castle  assigned  to  the  officers  on  guard,  where  Othello,  after  giving 
Cassio  his  orders,  had,  a  little  before,  left  him  ;  and  where  lago, 
with  His  companions,  immediately  found  him.  HENLEY. 

In  quarter,]  i.e.  on  our  station.     So,  in  Timon  of  Athens: 

"  —    to  atone  your  fears 

"  With  my  more  noble  meaning,  not  a  man 
"  Shall  pass  his  quarter." 

Their  station  or  quarter  in  the  present  instance,  was  the  guard- 
room in  Othello's  castle.  In  CijmbeUne  we  have — "  their  quar- 
ter'd  fires,"  i.  e.  their  fires  regularly  disposed. 

In  quarter  Dr.  Johnson  supposed  to  mean,  at  their  lodging*; 


sc.  in.     THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          343 

Devestfng  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 
Any  beginning  to  this  peevish  odds ; 
And  'would  in  action  glorious  I  had  lost 
These  legs,  that  brought  me  to  a  part  of  it ! 

OTH.  How  comes  it,  Michael,  you  are  thus  for- 
got ?4 

CAS.  I  pray  you,  pardon  me,  I  cannot  speak. 

OTH.  Worthy  Montano,  you  were  wont  be  civil ; 
The  gravity  and  stillness  of  your  youth 
The  world  hath  noted,  and  your  name  is  great 
In  mouths  of  wisest  censure ;   What's  the  matter, 
That  you  unlace5  your  reputation  thus, 
And  spend  your  rich  opinion,6  for  the  name 
Of  a  night-brawler  ?  give  me  answer  to  it. 

MON.  Worthy  Othello,  I  am  hurt  to  danger  j 


but  that  cannot  be  the  meaning,  for  Montano  and  the  Gentlemen 
who  accompanied  him,  had  continued,  from  the  time  of  their 
entrance,  in  the  apartment  of  Othello's  castle,  in  which  the 
carousal  had  been  ;  and  Cassio  had  only  gone  forth  for  a  short 
time  to  the  platform,  to  set  the  watch.  On  his  return  from  the 
platform  into  the  apartment,  in  which  he  left  Montano  and  lago, 
he  meets  Roderigo;  and  the  scuffle,  first  between  Cassio  and 
Roderigo,  and  then  between  Montano  and  Cassio,  ensues. 

MALONE. 

you  are  thus  forgot  ?"]  i.  e.  you  have  thus  forgot  your- 


self.    STEEVENS. 

5  That  you  unlace — ]     Slacken,  or  loosen.     Put  in  danger  of 
dropping;  or  perhaps  strip  off  its  ornaments.     JOHNSON. 

A  similar  phrase  occurs  in  Twelfth-Night.' 

"  I  pr'ythee  now,  ungird  thy  strangeness."     STEEVENS. 

6  spend  your  rich  opinion,']     Throw  away  and  squander 

a  reputation  so  valuable  at  yours.     JOHNSON. 


344  OTHELLO,  ACT  n. 

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-charity7  be  sometime  a  vice ; 
And  to  defend  ourselves  it  be  a  sin, 
When  violence  assails  us. 

OTH.  Now,  by  heaven, 

My  blood  begins  my  safer  guides  to  rule  ; 
And  passion,  having  my  best  judgment  collied,8 
Assays  to  lead  the  way :  If  I  once  stir, 
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  ; 


7  self-charity — ]  Care  of  one's  self.     JOHNSON. 

8  And  passion,  having  my  best  judgment  collied,]     Thus  the 
folio  reads,  and  I  believe  rightly.     Othello  means,  that  passion 
has  discoloured  his  judgment.     The  word  is  used  in  A  Midsum- 
mer-Night's Dream : 

11 like  lightning  in  the  collied  night." 

To  colly  anciently  signified  to  besmut,  to  blacken  as  with  coal. 
So,  in  a  comedy  called  The  Family  of  Love,  1608:  " — carry 
thy  link  a't'other  side  the  way,  thou  collovost  me  and  my  ruffe." 
The  word  (as  I  am  assured)  is  still  used  in  the  midland  counties. 
Mr.  Toilet  informs  me  that  Wallis's  History  of  Northumber- 
land, p.  46,  says  :  "  — in  our  northern  counties  it  \_\.  e.  a  fine 
black  clay  or  ochre]  is  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  collotv 
or  killoiv,  by  which  name  it  is  known  by  Dr.  Woodward,"  &c. 
The  Doctor  says  it  had  its  name  from  kollow,  by  which  name,  in 
the  North,  the  smut  or  grime  on  the  top  of  chimneys  is  so  called. 
Colly,  however,  is  from  coal,  as  collier.  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer 
reads — choler'd.  STEEVENS. 

Cole,  in  his  Dictionary,  1679,  renders  "  collotud  by  deni- 
gratus: — to  colly,"  denigro. 

The  quarto,  1622,  reads — having  my  best  judgement  cool'd. 
A  modern  editor  supposed  that  qucll'd  was  the  vrord  intended. 

MALONE. 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          345 

And  he  that  is  approv'd  in  this  offence,9 
Though  he  had  twinn'd  with  me,  both  at  a  birth, 
Shall  lose  me. — What !  in  a  town  of  war, 
Yet  wild,  the  people's  hearts  brimful  of  fear, 
To  manage  private  and  domestick  quarrel, 
In  night,  and  on  the  court  and  guard  of  safety  I1 


9  he  that  is  approv'd  in  this  offence,"]  He  that  is  con- 
victed by  proof,  of  having  been  engaged  in  this  offence. 

JOHNSON. 

1  In  night,  and  on  the  court  and  guard  of  safety!"]  Thus  the 
old  copies.  Mr.  Malone  reads : 

In  night,  and  on  the  court  of  guard  and  safety  ! 

STEEVENS. 

These  words  have  undoubtedly  been  transposed  by  negligence 
at  the  press.  For  this  emendation,  of  which  I  am  confident  every 
reader  will  approve,  I  am  answerable.  The  court  of  guard  was 
the  common  phrase  of  the  time  for  the  guard  room.  It  has  al- 
ready been  used  by  lago  in  a  former  scene ;  and  what  still  more 
strongly  confirms  the  emendation,  lago  is  there  speaking  of 
Cassia,  and  describing  him  as  about  to  be  placed  in  the  very 
station  where  he  now  appears  :  "  The  lieutenant  to-night  watches 
on  the  court  of  guard." 

Again,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra : 

"  If  we  be  not  reliev'd  within  this  hour, 
"  We  must  return  to  the  court  of  guard" 

The  same  phrase  occurs  in  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  1600,  and  in 
many  other  old  plays.  A  similar  mistake  has  happened  in  the 
present  scene,  where  in  the  original  copy  we  find : 

"  Have  you  forgot  all  place  of  sense  and  duty?" 
instead  of — all  sense  of  place  and  duty  ? 

I  may  venture  to  assert  with  confidence  that  no  editor  of  Shak- 
spcare  has  more  sedulously  adhered  to  the  ancient  copies  than 
1  have  done,  or  more  steadily  opposed  any  change  grounded 
merely  on  obsolete  or  unusual  phraseology.  But  the  error  in 
the  present  case  is  so  apparent,  and  the  phrase,  the  court  of  guard, 
so  established  by  the  uniform  usage  of  the  poets  of  Shakspeare's 
time,  that  not  to  have  corrected  the  mistake  of  the  compositor 
in  the  present  instance,  would  in  my  apprehension  have  been 
unwarrantable.  If  the  phraseology  of  the  old  copies  had  merely 
been  unusual,  I  should  not  have  ventured  to  make  the  slightest 
change :  but  the  frequent  occurrence  of  the  phrase,  the  court  of 


346  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

'Tis  monstrous.2 — lago,  who  began  it  ? 

A/OJV.  If  partially  affin'd,3  or  leagu'd  in  office,4 
Thou  dost  deliver  more  or  less  than  truth, 
Thou  art  no  soldier. 

IAGO.  Touch  me  not  so  near : 


guard,  in  all  our  old  plays,  and  that  being  the  tvord  of  art,  leave 
us  not  room  to  entertain  a  doubt  of  its  being  the  true  reading. 

Mr.  Steevens  says,  a  phraseology  as  unusual  occurs  in  A  Mid- 
summer-Night's Dream  ;  but  he  forgets  that  it  is  supported  by 
the  usage  of  contemporary  writers.  When  any  such  is  produced 
in  support  of  that  before  us,  it  ought  certainly  to  be  attended  to. 

I  may  add,  that  the  court  of  safety  may  in  a  metaphorical 
sense  be  understood ;  but  who  ever  talked  of  the  guard  [i.  e.  the 
safety']  of  safety?  MALONE. 

As  a  collocation  of  words,  as  seemingly  perverse,  occurs  in 
A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,  and  is  justified  there,  in  the  fol- 
lowing instance : 

"  I  shall  desire  you  of  more  acquaintance  ;" 
I  forbear  to  disturb  the  text  under  consideration. 

If  Safety,  like  the  Roman  Salus,  or  Recovery  in  King  Lear, 
be  personified,  where  is  the  impropriety  of  saying — under  the 
guard  of  Safety?  Thus,  Plautus,  in  his  Captiii :  "  Neque  jam 
servare  Salus,  si  vult,  me  potest." 

Mr.  Malone  also  appears  to  forget  that,  on  a  preceding  occa- 
sion, he  too  has  left  an  unexemplified  and  very  questionable 
phrase,  in  the  text  of  this  tragedy,  hoping,  we  may  suppose,  (as 
I  do,)  that  it  will  be  hereafter  countenanced  by  example.  See 
p.  321,  n.  5.  STEEVENS. 

*  'Tis  monstrous.]  This  word  was  used  as  a  trisyllable,  as  if 
it  were  written  monsterous.  MALONE. 

It  is  again  used  as  a  trisyllable  in  Macbeth.  See  Vol.  X. 
p.  196,  n.  1.  STEEVENS. 

3  If  partially  affin'd,]    Affin'd  is  bound  by  proximity  of  rela- 
tionship ;  but  here  it  means  related  by  nearness  of  office.    In  the 
first,  scene  it  is  used  in  the  former  of  these  senses : 

"  If  I,  in  any  just  term,  am  qffin'd 
"  To  love  the  Moor."     STEEVENS. 

4  leagu'd  in  office,']   Old  copies — league.     Corrected  by 

Mr.  Pope.    MALONE. 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          347 

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  him6  with  determin'd  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  part  them. 
More  of  this  matter  can  I  not  report : — 
But  men  are  men  ;  the  best  sometimes  forget : — 
Though  Cassio  did  some  little  wrong  to  him, — 
As  men  in  rage  strike  those  that  wish  them  best, — 
Yet,  surely,  Cassio,  I  believe,  receiv'd, 
From  him  that  fled,  some  strange  indignity, 
Which  patience  could  not  pass. 

OTH.  I  know,  lago, 

Thy  honesty  and  love  doth  mince  this  matter, 
Making  it  light  to  Cassio : — Cassio,  I  love  thee  j 
But  never  more  be  officer  of  mine. — 


cntfrom  my  month,"]     Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto, 

162:2,  reads — this  tongue  out  from  my  mouth.     MALONE. 

6  And  Cassio  following  him — ]  The  word  him  in  this  line 
seems  to  have  crept  into  it  from  the  compositor's  eye  glancing- 
on  that  below.  MALONE. 


348  OTHELLO,  ACT  //. 


Enter  DESDEMONA,  attended. 

Look,  if  my  gentle  love  be  not  rais'd  up  ; — 
I'll  make  thee  an  example. 

DES.  What's  the  matter,  dear? 

OTH.  All's  well  now,  sweeting  ;7  Come  away  to 

bed. 

Sir,  for  your  hurts, 
Myself  will  be  your  surgeon  :  Lead  him  off.8 

[_To  MONTANO,  who  is  led  off. 
lago,  look  \vith  care  about  the  town ; 
And  silence  those  whom  this  vile  brawl  distracted. — 
Come,  Desdemona ;  'tis  the  soldiers'  life, 
To  have  their  balmy  slumbers  wak'd  with  strife. 
\_Eoceunt  all  but  IAGO  and  CASSIO. 

I  AGO.  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,  sir,  of  myself,  and  what  remains  is  bestial. — 
My  reputation,  lago,  my  reputation. 

IAGO.  As  I  am  an  honest  man,  I  thought  you  had 
received  sorne  bodily  wound  ;  there  is  more  offence 


7  sweeting;"]     This  surfeiting  vulgar  term  of  fondness 

originates  from  the  name  of  an  apple  distinguished  only  by  its 
insipid  sweetness.     STEEVENS. 

8  Lead  him  off.~]  I  am  persuaded,  these  words  were  originally 
a  marginal  direction.     In  our  old  plays  all  the  stage-directions 
were  couched  in   imperative  terms  : — Play  musick — Ring  the 
Bell. — Lead  him  off.     MALONE. 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          349 

in  that,  than  in  reputation.9  Reputation  is  an  idle 
and  most  false  imposition  ;  oft  got  without  merit, 
and  lost  without  deserving :  You  have  lost  no  re- 
putation at  all,  unless  you  repute  yourself  such  a 
loser.  What,  man  !  there  are  ways  to  recover  the 
general  again  :  You  are  but  now  cast  in  his  mood,1 
a  punishment  more  in  policy  than  in  malice  ;  even 
so  as  one  \vould  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,2  so 
drunken,  and  so  indiscreet  an  officer.  Drunk  ?  and 
speak  parrot  ?3  and  squabble  ?  swagger  ?  swear  ? 
and  discourse  fustian  with  one's  own  shadow  ? — O 
thou  invisible  spirit  of  wine,  if  thou  hast  no  name 
to  be  known  by,  let  us  call  thee — devil ! 

I  AGO.  What  was  he  that  you  followed  with  your 
sword  ?  What  had  he  done  to  you  ? 

CAS.  I  know  not. 

9  there  is  more  offence  #c.]     Thus  the  quartos.     The 

folio  reads — there  is  more  sense,  &c.     STEEVENS. 

1  cast  in  his  mood,~\   Ejected  in  his  anger.     JOHNSOX. 

—  so  slight,]     Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto,  1622,  reads 
—so  light.     MALONE. 

3  and  speak  parrot  ?]  A  phrase  signifying  to  act  fool- 
ishly and  childishly.  <So  Skelton  : 

"  These  maidens,  full  mekely  with  many  a  divers  flour, 
"  Freshly  they  dress  and  make  sweete  my  boure, 
"  With  spake  parrot  I  pray  you  full  courteously  thei 
saye."     WARBURTON. 

So,  in  Lyly's  Woman  in  the  Moon,  1597: 
"  Thou  pretty  parrot,  speak  a  while." 
These  lines  are  wanting  in  the  first  quarto.     STEBVENS. 

From  Drunk,  &c.  to  shadow,  inclusively,  is  wanting  in  the 
quarto,  1622.  By  "  speak  parrot,"  surely  the  poet  meant, 
"  talk  idly,"  and  not,  a1?  Dr.  Warburton  supposes,  "  act  fool- 
ishly." MALONE. 


3.50  OTHELLO,  ACT  n. 

IAGO.  Is  it  possible  ? 

CAS.  I  remember  a  mass  of  things,  but  nothing 
distinctly  ;  a  quarrel,  but  nothing  wherefore. — O, 
that  men  should  put  an  enemy  in  their  mouths,  to 
steal  away  their  brains !  that  we  should,  with  joy, 
revel,  pleasure,  and  applause,  transform  ourselves 
into  beasts ! 

IAGO.  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. 

IAGO.  Come,  you  are  too  severe  a  moraler :  As 
the  time,  the  place,  and  the  condition  of  this  coun- 
try stands,  I  could  heartily  wish  this  had  not  be- 
fallen ;  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  ! — Every  inordinate 
cup  is  unblessed,  and  the  ingredient  is  a  devil. 

IAGO.  Come,  come,  good  wine  is  a  good  fami- 
liar 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 ! 

IAGO.  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  h  imself  to  the  contemplation,  mark,  and 


5c\  ///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          351 

denotement  of  her  parts  and  graces : 4 — confess 
yourself  freely  to  her ;  importune  her ;  she'll  help 
to  put  you  in  your  place  again :  she  is  of  so  free, 
so  kind,  so  apt,  so  blessed  a  disposition,  that  she 
holds  it  a  vice  in  her  goodness,  not  to  do  more  than 
she  is  requested  :  This  broken  joint,5  between  you 
and  her  husband,  entreat  her  to  splinter  ;  and,  my 
fortunes  against  any  lay6  worth  naming,  this  crack 
of  your  love  shall  grow  stronger  than  it  was  before. 

CAS.  You  advise  me  well. 

» 

IAGO.  I  protest,  in  the  sincerity  of  love,  and  ho- 
nest kindness. 

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  for- 
tunes, if  they  check  me  here. 

IAGO.  You  are  in  the  right.  Good  night,  lieu- 
tenant ;  I  must  to  the  watch. 

-for  that  he  hath  devoted  and  given  up  himself  to  the 


contemplation,  mark,  and  denotement  of  her  parts  and  graces : 
POld  copies — det'otement.]     I  remember,  it  is  said  of  Antony, 
in  the  beginning  of  his  tragedy,  that  he  who  used  to  fix  his  eyes 
altogether  on  the  dreadful  ranges  of  war : 

" now  bends,  now  turns, 

"  The  office  and  devotion  of  their  view 
'  "  Upon  a  tawny  front." 

This  is  finely  expressed ;  but  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that 
our  poet  would  ever  have  said,  any  one  devoted  himself  to  the 
denotement  of  any  thing.  All  the  copies  agree  ;  but  the  mistake 
certainly  arose  from  a  single  letter  being  turned  upside  down  at 
press.  THEOBALD. 

The  same  mistake  has  happened  in  Hamlet,  and  in  several 
other  places.  See  Vol.  V.  p.  191,  n.  3.  MALONE. 

5  This  broken  joint,]   Thus  the  folio.  The  original  copy 

reads — This  braixl.     MALONE. 

0  any  lay — ]  i.  e.  any  bet,  any  wager.     RITSOV. 

So,  in  Cymbeline;  "  I  will  have  it  no  lay."     STEEVEN*.?. 


352  OTHELLO,  ACT  u. 

CAS.  Good  night,  honest  lago.      \_Exit  CASSIO. 

IAGO.  And  what's  he  then,  that  says, — I  play 

the  villain  ? 

When  this  advice  is  free,7  I  give,  and  honest, 
Probal8  to  thinking,  and  (indeed)  the  course 
To  win  the  Moor  again  ?  For  'tis  most  easy 
The  inclining  Desdemona9  to  subdue 
In  any  honest  suit ;  she's  fram'd  as  fruitful1 
As  the  free  elements.2     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,3 

7 this  advice  is  free, ~\   This  counsel  has  an  appearance  of 

honest  openness,  of  frank  good-will.     JOHNSON. 

Rather  gratis,  not  paid  for,  as  his  advice  to  Roderigo  was. 

HENLEY. 

8  Probal — ]     Thus  the  old  editions.     There  may  be  such  a 
contraction  of  the  word  probable,  but  I  have  not  met  with  it  in 
any  other  book.     Yet  abbreviations  as  violent  occur  in  our  an- 
cient writers,  and  especially  in  the  works  of  Churchyard. 

STEEVENS. 

9  The  inclining  Desdemona — ]      Inclining  here  signifies  com- 
pliant.    MALONE. 

1  fruitful — 3    Corresponding  to  benignus,  apSovof. 

HENLEY. 

9  as  fruitful 

As  the  free  elements.'}     Liberal,  bountiful,  as  the  elements, 
out  of  which  all  things  are  produced.     JOHNSON. 

3  to  this  parallel  course,~]     Parallel,  for  even;  because 

parallel  lines  run  even  and  equidistant.     WARBURTON. 

So,  in  our  author's  70th  Sonnet : 

"  Time  doth  transfix  the  flourish  set  on  youth, 
"  And  delves  the  parallel*  in  beauty's  brow." 

MALONE. 


ac.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          353 

Directly  to  his  good  ?  Divinity  of  hell  1 

When  devils  will  their  blackest  sins  put  on, 

They  do  suggest4  at  first  with  heavenly  shows, 

As  I  do  now  :  For  while  this  honest  fool 

Plies  Desdemona  to  repair  his  fortunes, 

And  she  for  him  pleads  strongly  to  the  Moor, 

I'll  pour  this  pestilence5  into  his  ear, — 

That  she  repeals  him6  for  her  body's  lust  j 

And,  by  how  much  she  strives  to  do  him  good, 

She  shall  undo  her  credit  with  the  Moor. 

So  will  I  turn  her  virtue  into  pitch ; 

And  out  of  her  own  goodness  make  the  net, 

That  shall  enmesh  them  all.7 — Hownow,  Roderigo? 

Enter  RODERIGO. 

ROD.  I  do  follow  here  in  the  chace,  not  like  a 
hound  that  hunts,  but  one  that  fills  up  the  cry. 
My  money  is  almost  spent ;  I  have  been  to-night 
exceedingly  well  cudgelled ;  and,  I  think,  the  issue 
will  be — I  shall  have  so  much  experience  for  my 


Parallel  course;  i.  e.  course  level,  and  even  with  his  design. 

JOHNSON. 

4  When  devils  tvill  their  blackest  sins  put  on, 

Thei/  do  suggest — ]    When  devils  mean  to  instigate  men  to 
commit  the  most  atrocious  crimes.     So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Of  deaths  put  on  by  cunning  and  forc'd  cause." 
To  put  on  has  already  occurred  twice  in  the  present  play,  in 
this  sense.     To  suggest  in  old  language  is  to  tempt. 
See  Vol.  IV.  p.  232,  n.  5.     MA  LONE. 

5  I1  II  pour  this  pestilence — ]  Pestilence,  for  poison. 

WARBURTON. 

6  That  she  repeals  him — ]  That  is,  recalls  him.     JOHNSON. 

7  That  shall  enmesh  them  all.]    A  metaphor  from  taking  birds 
in  meshes.     POPE. 

Why  not  from  the  taking  fish,  for  which  purpose  nets  are 
more  frequently  used?     M.  MASON, 

VOL.  XIX.  2  .A 


354  OTHELLO,  ACT  n. 

pains :  and  so,  with  no  money  at  all,  and  a  little 
more  wit,8  return  to  Venice. 

IAQQ.  How  poor  are  they,  that  have  not  pa- 
tience ! — 

What  wound  did  ever  heal,  but  by  degrees  ? 
Thou  know'st,  we  work  by  wit,  and  not  by  witch- 
craft; 

And  wit  depends  on  dilatory  time. 
Boes't  not  go  well  ?  Gassio  hath  beaten  thee, 
And  thou,  by  that  small  hurt,  hast  cashier'd  Cassio  i 
Though  other  things  grow  fair  against  the  sun, 
Yet  fruits,  that  blossom  first,  will  first  be  ripe  :9 
Content  thyself  a  while. — By  the  mass,  'tis  morn- 
ins:  ;l 


*  a  little  more  IK it,]     Thus  the  folio.     The  first  quarto 

reads — and  with  that  wit.     STEEVENS. 

9  Though  other  things  grow  fair  against  the  sun, 

Yet  fruits,  that  blossom  first,  will  Jlrst  be  ripe:]  Of  many 
different  things,  all  planned  with  the  same  art,  and  promoted 
with  the  same  diligence,  some  must  succeed  sooner  than  others, 
by  the  order  of  nature.  Every  thing  cannot  be  done  at  once  ; 
we  must  proceed  by  the  necessary  gradation.  We  are  not  to 
despair  of  slow  events  any  more  than  of  tardy  fruits,  while  the 
causes  are  in  regular  progress,  and  the  fruits  grow  fair  against 
the  sun.  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  has  not,  I  think,  rightly  con- 
ceived the  sentiment ;  for  he  reads : 

Those  fruits  which  blossom  Jirst,  are  not  first  ripe. 
I  have  therefore  drawn  it  out  at  length,  for  there  are  few  to. 
whom  that  will  be  easy  which  was  difficult  to  Sir  T.  Hanmer. 

JOHNSON. 

The  blossoming^  or  fair  appearance  of  things,  to  which  lago 
alludes,  is,  the  removal  of  Cassio.  As  their  plan  had  already 
blossomed,  so  there  was  good  ground  for  expecting  that  it  would 
soon  be  ripe.  lago  does  not,  I  think,  mean  to  compare  their 
scheme  to  tardy  fruits,  as  Dr.  Johnson  seems  to  have  supposed. 

MALONE, 

1  By  the  mass,  'tis  morning;]    Here  we  have  one  of  the 

numerous  arbitrary  alterations  made  by  the  Master  of  the  Revels 
in  the  playhouse  copies,  from  which  a  great  part  of  the  folio  was 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          355 

Pleasure,  and  action,  make  the  hours  seem  short. — 
Retire  thee ;  go  where  thou  art  billeted : 
Away,  I  say ;  thou  shalt  know  more  hereafter : 
Nay,  get  thee  gone.  [Exit  ROD.]  Two  things  are 

to  be  done, — 

My  wife  must  move  for  Cassio  to  her  mistress ; 
I'll  set  her  on  ; 

Myself,  the  while,  to  draw2  the  Moor  apart, 
And  bring  him  jump  when3  he  may  Cassio  find 
Soliciting  his  wife  : — Ay,  that's  the  way  ; 
Dull  not  device  by  coldness  and  delay.         [Exit, 
i 

printed.     It  reads — In  troth,  'tis  morning.     See  The  Historical 
Account  of  the  English  Stage,  Vol.  III.     MA  LONE. 

2  to  draw — ]    Thus  the  old  copies  ;  and  this  reading  is 

consistent  with  the  tenor  of  the  present  interrupted  speech.   lago 
is  still  debating  with  himself  concerning  the  means  to  perplex 
Othello.     STEEVENS. 

Myself,  the  while,  to  draw — ]  The  old  copies  have  awhile. 
Mr.  Theobald  made  the  correction. 

The  modern  editors  read — Myself,  the  while,  will  draw.  But 
the  old  copies  are  undoubtedly  right.  An  imperfect  sentence 
was  intended.  lago  is  ruminating  on  his  plan.  MALONE. 

3  bring  him  jump  when — ]      Unexpectedly: — an  expres- 
sion taken  from  the  bound,  or  start,  with  which  we  are  shocked, 
at  the  sudden  and  unlooked-for  appearance  of  any  offensive 
object.     HENLEY. 

Jump  ivheny  I  believe,  signifies  no  more  than  just  at  the  time 
:ohen.  So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Thus  twice  before,  and  jump  at  this  dead  hour." 
See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  12,  n.  7.     STEEVENS. 


356  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

ACT  III.     SCENE  I. 

Before  the  Castle. 
Enter  CASSIO,  and  some  Musicians. 

CAS.  Masters,  play  here,   I  will  content  your 

pains, 

Something  that's  brief;   and  bid — good-morrow, 
general.4  \_Musick. 

Enter  Clown. 

CLO.  Why,  masters,  have  your  instruments  been 
at  Naples,  that  they  speak  i'the  nose  thus  ?5 

1  M  us.  How,  sir,  how ! 

CLO.  Are  these,  I  pray  you,  called  wind  instru- 
ments ? 

I  Mus.  Ay,  marry,  are  they,  sir. 

4  and  bid — good-morrow,  general.']  It  is  the  usual  prac- 
tice of  the  waits,  or  nocturnal  minstrels,  in  several  towns  in  the 
North  of  England,  after  playing  a  tune  or  two,  to  cry,  "  Good- 
morrow,  maister  such  a  one,  good-morrow,  dame,"  adding  the 
hour,  and  state  of  the  weather.  It  should  seem  to  have  prevailed 
at  Stratford-upon-Avon.  They  formerly  used  hautboys,  which 
are  the  wind-instruments  here  meant.  RITSON. 

3   Why,  masters,  have  your  instruments  been  at  Naples,  that 
they  speak  i'the  nose  thus  ?]  So,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice: 
"  And  others,  when  the  bagpipe  sings  i'the  nose, ." 

Rabelais  somewhere  speaks  of  "  a  blow  over  the  nose  with  a 
Naples  cowl-staff."  STEEVENS. 

The  venereal  disease  first  appeared  at  the  siege  of  Naples. 

JOHNSON. 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          3tf 

CLO.  O,  thereby  hangs  a  tail. 

1  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  musick,  that  he  desires 
you,  of  all  loves,6  to  make  no  more  noise  with  it. 

1  Mus.  Well,  sir,  we  will  not. 

CLO.  If  you  have  any  musick  that  may  not  be 
heard,  to't  again  :  but,  as  they  say,  to  hear  musick, 
the  general  does  not  greatly  care. 

1  Mus.  We  have  none  such,  sir. 

CLO.  Then  put  up  your  pipes  in  your  bag,  for  I'll 
away:v  Goj  vanish  into  air ; 8  away. 

\_Exeunt  Musicians. 

CAS.  Dost  thou  hear,  my  honest  friend  ? 

CLO.  No,  I  hear  not  your  honest  friend  j  I  hear 
you. 

CAS.  Pr'ythee,  keep  up  thy  quillets.9  There's  a 
poor  piece  of  gold  for  thee  :  if  the  gentlewoman 
that  attends  the  general'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.  [Exit. 

6  of  all  loves,"]    The  folio  reads— -for  love's  sake.     The 

phrase  in  the  text  occurs  also  in  The  Merry  JVives  of  Windsor. 
See  Vol.  V.  p.  88,  n.  3.     STEEVENS. 

7  for  I'll  aicay:~\  Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads — and  hie  avray. 

JOHNSON, 

8 vanish  into  air;]    So,  the  folio  and  one  of  the  quartos. 

The  eldest  quarto  reads — Vanish  away.     STEEVENS. 

0 %  quillets.]   See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  S27,  n.  7.  MAI.OSE. 


358  OTHELLO,  ACT  in. 


Enter  IAGO. 

CAS.  Do,  good  my  friend. — In  happy  time,  lago. 
IAGO.  You  have  not  been  a-bed  then  ? 

CAS.  Why,  no ;  the  day  had  broke 
Before  we  parted.     I  have  made  bold,  lago, 
To  send  in  to  your  wife  :  My  suit  to  her 
Is,  that  she  will  to  virtuous  Desdemona 
Procure  me  some  access* 

IAGO.  I'll  send  her  to  you  presently  j 

And  I'll  devise  a  mean  to  draw  the  Moor 
Out  of  the  way,  that  your  converse  and  business 
May  be  more  free.  [Exit, 

CAS.  I  humbly  thank  you  for't.     I  never  knew 
A  Florentine  more  kind  and  honest.1 

Enter  EMILIA. 
EMIL.  Good  morrow,  good  lieutenant :  I  am  sorry 

1  1  never  knew 

A  Florentine  more  kind  and  honest.~]  In  consequence  of  this 
line,  a  doubt  has  been  entertained  concerning  the  country  of 
lago.  Cassio  was  undoubtedly  a  Florentine,  as  appears,  by  the 
first  scene  of  the  play,  where  he  is  expressly  called  one.  That 
lago  was  a  Venetian,  is  proved  by  a  speech  in  the  third  scene  of 
this  Act,  and  by  what  he  says  in  the  fifth  Act,  after  having 
stabbed  Roderigo : 

"  lago.  Alas,  my  dear  friend  and  countryman,  Roderigo  ! 
"  Gra.  What,  of  Venice  ? 
"  lago.  Yes." 

All  that  Cassio  means  to  say  in  the  passage  before  us  is,  I 
never  experienced  more  honesty  and  kindness  even  in  any  one 
of  my  own  countrymen,  than  in  this  man. 

Mr.  Steevens  has  made  the  same  observation  in  another  place. 

MALONE. 

It  was  made  in  edit.  1778.     STEEVENS* 


sa  i.         THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          359 

For  your  displeasure ; 2  but  all  will  soon  be  well. 
The  general,  and  his  wife,  are  talking  of  it; 
And  she  speaks  for  you  stoutly:  The  Moor  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  heeds  no  other  suitor,  but  his  likings, 
To  take  the  saf 'st  occasion  by  the  front,3 
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  Desdeinona  alone. 

EMIL.  Pray  you,  come  in  ; 

I  will  bestow  you  where  you  shall  have  time 
To  speak  your  bosom  freely. 

CAS.  I  am  much  bound  to  you.4 

[Exeunt* 

2  For  your  displeasure ;]  i.  e.  the  displeasure  you  have  in- 
curred from  Othello.     STEEVENS. 

3  To  take  the  saf'st  occasion   by  the  front,'}      This  line  is 
wanting  in  the  folio.     STEEVENS. 

*  I  am  much  bound  to  you.']   This  speech  is  omitted  in  the  first 
quarto.     STEEVENS.- 


360  OTHELLO,  ACT  m, 

SCENE  II. 

A  Room  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  OTHELLO,  IAGO,  and  Gentlemen, 

OTH.  These  letters  give,  lago,  to  the  pilot  -y 
And,  by  him,  do  my  duties  to  the  state  :5 
That  done,  I  will  be  walking  on  the  works, 
Repair  there  to  me. 

IAGO.  Well,  my  good  lord,  111  do't. 

OTH.  This  fortification,  gentlemen, — shall  we 
see't  ? 

GENT.  We'll  wait  upon  your  lordship.    [Exeunt, 

SCENE  III. 

Before  the  Castle. 
Enter  DESDEMONA,  CASSIO,  and  EMILIA. 

DES.  Be  thou  assur'd,  good  Cassio,  I  will  do 
All  my  abilities  in  thy  behalf. 

EMIL.  Good  madam,  do ;  I  know  it  grieves  my 

husband, 
As  if  the  case  were  his.6 


4  to  the  state:]  Thus  the  quarto,  1622.    Folio, — to  the 

senate.    MALONE. 

6  As  if  the  case  were  his.~]     The  folio  reads— As  if  the  cause 
were  his.     STEEVENS. 


sc.m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          361 

DES.  O,  that's  an  honest  fellow. — Do  not  doubt, 

Cassio, 
But  I  will  have  my  lord  and  you  again 

A          f    •  11  *  J  & 

As  friendly  as  you  were. 

CAS.  Bounteous  madam, 

Whatever  shall  become  of  Michael  Cassio, 
He's  never  any  thing  but  your  true  servant. 

DES.  O,  sir,  I  thank  you  :7  You  do  love  my  lord : 
You  have  known  him  long;  and  be  you  well  assur'd, 
He  shall  in  strangeness  stand  no  further  off 
Than  in  a  politick  distance. 

CAS.  Ay,  but,  lady, 

That  policy  may  either  last  so  long,8 
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. 
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,9  and  talk  him  out  of  patience; 

7  O,  sir,  I  thank  you:']     Thus  the  quarto,  1622.     The  folio 
reads — /  knoiu't,  I  thank  you.     MALONE. 

8  That  policy  may  either  last  so  long,~\   He  may  either  of  him- 
self think  it  politick  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  re-admission  at  that  time  improper,  that  I 
may  be  quite  forgotten.     JOHNSON. 

9  I'll  natch  him  tame,~]    It  is  said,  that  the  ferocity  of  beasts, 
insuperable  and  irreclaimable  by  any  other  means,  is  subdued  by 
keeping  them  from  sleep.     JOHNSON. 

Hawks  and  other  birds  are  tamed  by  keeping  them  from  sleep, 
and  it  is  to  the  management  of  these  that  Shakspeare  alludes. 
So,  in  Cartwright's  Lady  Errant : 

"  . we'll  keep  you, 

"  As  they  do  hawks,  matching  until  you  leave 

"  Your  wildness." 


362  OTHELLO,  AC*  tn* 

His  bed  shall  seem  a  school,  his  board  a  shrift; 

I'll  intermingle  every  thing  he  does 

With  Cassio's  suit :  Therefore  be  merry,  Cassio; 

For  thy  solicitor  shall  rather  die, 

Than  give  thy  cause  away. 

Enter  OTHELLO  and  IAGO,  at  a  distance. 

EMIL.  Madam,  here  comes 

My  lord. 

CAS.        Madam,  I'll  take  my  leave, 

DE$.  Why,  stay^ 

And  hear  me  speak. 

CAS.  Madam,  not  now ;  I  am  very  ill  at  ease, 
tlnfit  for  mine  own  purposes. 

DES.  Well,  well,1 

Do  your  discretion.  [Exit  CASSIO,, 

IAGO.  Ha !  I  like  not  that. 

OTH.  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. 

Again,  in  Monsieur  D'Olive,  1606:  "  — your  only  way  to  deal 
with  women  and  parrots,  is  to  keep  them  unking." 

Again,  in  Sir  W.  D'Avenant's  Just  Italian,  1630: 
"  They've  watch'd  my  hardy  violence  so  tame." 

Again,  in  The  Booke  of  Haukynge,  Huntyng,  &c.  bl.  1.  n<r 
date :  "  Wake  her  all  nyght,  and  on  the  morrowe  all  daye,  and 
then  she  will  be  previ  enough  to  be  reclaymed."  STEEVENS. 

1  Well,  well,]  The  adverb — ivell,  has  been  repeated  for  the 
sake  of  measure.  STEEVENS. 


sc.ni.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         363 

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  power  to  move  you, 
His  present  reconciliation  take  j2 
For,  if  he  be  not  one  that  truly  loves  you, 
That  errs  in  ignorance,  and  not  in  cunning, '; 
I  have  no  judgment  in  an  honest  face  : 
I  pr'ythee,  call  him  back. 

OTH.  Went  he  hence  now  r 

DES.  Ay,  sooth  ;  so  humbled, 
That  he  hath  left  part  of  his  grief  with  me ; 
I  suffer  with  him.4     Good  love,  call  him  back. 

OTH.  Not  now,  sweet  Desdemona ;  some  othe? 
time. 

DES.  But  shall't  be  shortly  ? 

OTH.  The  sooner,  sweet,  for  you. 


*  His  present  reconciliation  take ;]  Cassio  was  to  be  reconciled 
to  his  general,  not  his  general  to  him,  therefore  take  cannot  be 
right.  We  should  read — make.  WARBURTON. 

To  take  his  reconciliation,  may  be  to  accept  the  submission- 
which  he  makes  in  order  to  be  reconciled.  JOHNSON. 

3  and  not  in  cunning,]   Cunning,  for  design,  or  purpose, 

simply.    WARBURTON. 

Perhaps  rather  for  knowledge,  the  ancient  sense  of  the  word. 
So,  in  Measure  for  Measure:  "  In  the  boldness  of  my  cunning 
I  will  lay  myself  in  hazard.'*  The  opposition  which  seems  to 
have  been  intended  between  cunning  and  ignorance,  favours 
this  interpretation.  MALONE. 

4  I  suffer  ivith  him.']   Thus  the  quarto,  1622.    The  folio  reads- 
— To  suffer  with  him.     MALONE. 


364-  OTHELLO,  ACTIIL 

DBS.  Shall't  be  to-night  at  supper  ? 

OTH.  No,  not  to-night. 

DES.  To-morrow  dinner  then  ? 

OTH.  I  shall  not  dine  at  home  ; 

I  meet  the  captains  at  the  citadel. 

DES.  Why  then,  to-morrow  night ;  or  Tuesday 

morn ; 

Or  Tuesday  noon,  or  night;  or  Wednesday  morn ; — 
I  pray  thee,  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  their  best,5)  is  not  almost  a  fault 
To  incur  a  private  check  :   When  shall  he  come  ? 
Tell  me,  Othello.     I  wonder  in  my  soul, 
AVhat  you  could  ask  me,  that  I  should  deny, 
Or  stand  so  mammering  on.6  What!  Michael Cassio, 

3  the  ivars  must  make  examples 

Out  of  their  best,]  The  severity  of  military  discipline  must 
not  spare  the  best  men  of  their  army,  when  their  punishment 
may  afford  a  wholesome  example.  JOHNSON. 

The  old  copies  read — her  best.  Mr.  Rowe  made  this  neces- 
sary emendation.  MALONE. 

G  so  mammering  on.~\    To  hesitate,  to  stand  in  suspense. 

The  word  often  occurs  in  old  English  writings,  and  probably 
takes  its  original  from  the  French  M*  Amour,  which  men  were 
apt  often  to  repeat  when  they  were  not  prepared  to  give  a  direct 
answer.  HANMER. 

I  find  the  same  word  in  Acolastus,  a  comedy,  1540:  "  I  stand 
in  doubt,  or  in  a  mamorynge  between  hope  and  fear." 

Again,  in  Thomas  Drant's  translation  of  the  third  satire  of 
the  second  Book  of  Horace,  1567 : 

'*  Yea,  when  she  daygnes  to  send  for  him,  then  mamer- 

yng  he  doth  doute." 

Again,  Henry  Wotton's  address  "  to  the  favorable  and  well 
willing  reader,"  prefixed  to  A  courtlie  Controversie  of  Cupid's 
Cautels,  &c.  4to.  1578 :  "  My  quill  remained  (as  men  say)  in  a 


sc.  ///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          36,5 

That  came  a  wooing  with  you;7  and  many  a  time,8 
When  I  have  spoke  of  you  dispraisingly, 
Hath  ta'en  your  part ;  to  have  so  much  to  do 
To  bring  him  in !  Trust  me,  I  could  do  much,' — 

OTH.  Pr'ythee,  no  more :  let  him  come  when 

he  will ; 
I  will  deny  thee  nothing. 

DES.  Why,  this  is  not  a  boon  ; 

JTis  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  full  of  poize9  and  difficulty, 
And  fearful  to  be  granted. 

mamorie,  quivering  in  my  quaking  fingers,  before  I  durst  pre- 
sume to  publishe  these  my  fantasies." 

Again,  in  Arthur  Hall's  translation  of  the  fourth  Iliad,  (4-tov 
1581): 

"  Hector  himself 

"  Doth  mamer  eke  what's  best  to  do,  least"  &c. 

STEEVENS. 

Again,  in  Lyly's  Euphues,  1580:  " — neither  stand  in  a 
mamer  ing,  whether  it  be  best  to  depart  or  not."  The  quarto, 
J622,  reads — muttering.  Mammering  is  the  reading  of  the 
folio.  M  ALONE. 

7  What !  Michael  Cassio, 

That  came  a  wooing  with  you  ;~]  And  yet  in  the  first  Act 
Cassio  appears  perfectly  ignorant  of  the  amour,  and  is  indebted 
to  lago  for  the  information  of  Othello's  marriage,  and  of  the 
person  to  whom  he  is  married.  STEEVEXS. 

See  the  notes  on  the  passage  alluded  to,  p.  250,  n.  7. 

MALONE. 

8  many  a  time, ,]    Old  copies,  redundantly,  and  without 

the  least  improvement  of  the  sense, — so  many  a  time.  The  com- 
positor had  accidentally  repeated — 50,  from  the  preceding  line. 

STEEVENS. 

-full  of  poize — ]   i.  e.  of  weight.     So,  in   The  Dumb 


Knight,  1633:' 

"  They  are  of  poize  sufficient 


366  OTHELLO,  ACT  in. 

OTH.  I  will  deny  thee  nothing : 

Whereon,  I  do  beseech  thee,  grant  me  this, 
To  leave  me  but  a  little  to  myself. 

DES.  Shall  I  deny  you  ? .  no :  Farewell,  my  lord. 

OTH.  Farewell,  my  Desdemona :  I  will  come  to 
thee  straight. 

DES.  Emilia,  come  : — >be  it  as  your  fancies  teach 

you; 
Whate'er  you  be,  I  am  obedient. 

\JExit)  with  EMILIA. 

OTH.  Excellent  wretch !  Perdition  catch  my  soul, 
But  I  do  love  thee ! l  and  when  I  love  thee  not, 
Chaos  is  come  again.2 

Again : 

"  But  we  are  all  prest  down  with  other  poize." 

STEEVENS. 

1  Excellent  wretch  ! — Perdition  catch  my  soul, 

But  I  do  love  thee!  &c.]  The  meaning  of  the  word  wretch, 
is  not  generally  understood.  It  is  now,  in  some  parts  of  Eng- 
land, a  term  of  the  softest  and  fondest  tenderness.  It  expresses 
the  utmost  degree  of  amiableness,  joined  with  an  idea  which 
perhaps  all  tenderness  includes,  of  feebleness,  softness,  and  want 
of  protection.  Othello,  considering  Desdemona  as  excelling  in 
beauty  and  virtue,  soft  and  timorous  by  her  sex,  and  by  her  si- 
tuation absolutely  in  his  power,  calls  her,  Excellent  wretch  !  It 
may  be  expressed : 

"  Dear,  harmless,  helpless  excellence.     JOHNSON. 

Sir  W.  D' Avenant  uses  the  same  expression  in  his  Cruel  Bro- 
ther, 1630,  and  with  the  same  meaning.  It  occurs  twice :  "  Ex- 
cellent "wretch !  with  a  timorous  modesty  she  stifleth  up  her  ut- 
terance." 

1  am  assured  by  Dr.  Farmer,  that  wretch  is  provincial  in  Staf- 
fordshire for  a  young  woman.     STEEVENS. 

2  when  I  love  thee  not, 

Chaos  is  come  again.']  When  my  love  is  for  a  moment  sus- 
pended by  suspicion,  I  have  nothing  in  my  mind  but  discord, 
tumult,  perturbation,  and  confusion.  JOHNSON. 

when  I  love  thee  not, 

Chaos  is  come  again.']    There  is  another  meaning  possible : 


sc.  in.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          367 

IAGO.  My  noble  lord, *• 

OTH.  What  dost  thou  say,  lago  ? 

IAGO.  Did  Michael  Cassio,  when  you  woo'd  my 

lady, 
Know  of  your  love  ? 

OTH.  He  did,  from  first  to  last :  Why  dost  thou 
ask? 

IAGO.  But  for  a  satisfaction  of  my  thought ; 
No  further  harm. 

When  I  cease  to  love  thee,  the  "world  is  at  an  end ;  i.  e.  there  re- 
mains nothing  valuable  or  important.     The  first  explanation 
may  be  more  elegant,  the  second  is  perhaps  more  easy.     Shak- 
speare has  the  same  thought  in  his  Venus  and  Adonis: 
"  For  he  being  dead,  with  him  is  beauty  slain, 
"  And,  beauty  dead,  black  Chaos  comes  again." 

STEEVENS. 

Tliis  passage  does  not  strike  me  in  the  same  light  in  which  it 
appeared  to  Dr.  Johnson ;  as  Othello  had  not  yet  any  experience 
of  that  perturbation  and  discord,  by  which  he  afterwards  is  so 
fatally  agitated.  He  means,  I  think,  to  say, — and  ere  I  cease  io 
love  thee,  the  world  itself  shall  be  reduced  to  its  primitive  chaos, 
Shakspeare  probably  preferred — "  chaos  is  come  again,"  to 
"  chaos  shall  come  again,"  as  more  bold  and  expressive.  Mu- 
retus,  a  poet  of  the  16th  century,  has  exactly  the  same  thought : 
"  Tune  meo  elabi  possis  de  pectore,  Lacci, 

"  Aut  ego,  dum  vivam,  non  meminisse  tui  ? 
"  Ante,  vel  istius  mundi  compage  soluta, 

"  Tetras  in  antiquum  sit  reditura  Chaos" 
The  meaning  of  Shakspeare  appears  very  clearly  from  the 
following  passage  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  where  the  same  thought 
is  more  fully  expressed : 

"  It  cannot  fail,  but  by 

"  The  violation  of  my  faith, — and  then 

"  Let  nature  crush  the  sides  o'the  earth  together, 

"  And  mar  the  seeds  within !"     MALONE. 

There  is  the  same  thought  in  Buchanan : 

"  Cesset  amor,  pariter  cessabunt  foedera  rerum  ; 
"  In  chaos  antiquum  cnncta  elcmenta  ruent" 

Vol.  II.  400,  1725,  -ko.     HOLT  WHITE. 


368  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

OTH.  Why  of  thy  thought,  lago  ? 

IAGO.  I  did  not  think,  he  had  been  acquainted 
with  her. 

OTH.  O,  yes  ;  and  went  between  us  very  oft. 
IAGO.  Indeed? 

OTH.    Indeed  !    ay,   indeed : — Discern'st   thou 

aught  in  that  ?4 
Is  he  not  honest? 

IAGO.  Honest,  my  lord  ? 

OTH.  Ay,  honest.5 

IAGO.  My  lord,  for  aught  I  know. 

OTH.  What  dost  thou  think  ? 

IAGO.  Think,  my  lord  ? 

OTH.  Think,  my  lord ! 

By  heaven,  he  echoes  me, 
As  if  there  were  some  monster  in  his  thought 
Too  hideous  to  be  shown.6 — Thou  dost  mean  some- 
thing : 


*  lago.  Indeed? 

Oth.  Indeed!  ay,  indeed:  &c.]     I  cannot  help  supposing 
that  this  passage  is  interpolated,  and  originally  stood  thus : 
lago.  Indeed! 

Oth.  Indeed: — Discern'st  thou  aught  in  that  ? 

See  the  next  note.     STEEVENS. 

*  Ay,  honest."]   The  old  copies,  violating  the  measure,  read: 

Honest  ?  ay,  honest. 

It  appears  from  many  instances,  that  where  words  were  to  be 
repeated  at  all,  our  old  blundering  printers  continued  the  repe- 
tition beyond  propriety.  Mr.  Malone  has  elsewhere  the  same 
remark.  STEEVENS. 

''  By  heaven,  he  echoes  me. 

As  if  there  were  some  monster  in  his  thought  &c.]    Thus  the 
eldest  quarto.     The  second  quarto  reads : 

Why  dost  thou  echo  me, 

As  if  there  'were  some  monster  in  thy  thought  &c. 


sc.m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          369 

I  heard  thee  say  but  now, — Thou  lik'dst  not  that, 
When  Cassio  left  my  wife ;  What  did'st  not  like  ? 
And,  when  I  told  thee — he  was  of  my  counsel 
In  my  whole  course  of  wooing,  thou  cry'dst,  In- 

deed? 

And  did'st  contract  and  purse  thy  brow  together, 
As  if  thou  then  had'st  shut  up  in  thy  brain 
Some  horrible  conceit :  If  thou  dost  love  me, 
Show  me  thy  thought. 

IAGO.  My  lord,  you  know  I  love  you. 

OTH.  I  think,  thou  dost ; 

And, — for  I  know  thou  art  full  of  love  and  honesty, 
And  weigh'st  thy  words  before  thou  giv'st  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  are  close  denotements,  working  from  the  heart. 
That  passion  cannot  rule.7 


The  folio  reads : 

Alas,  thou  echost  me, 

As  if&c. .     STEEVENS. 

This  is  one  'of  the  numerous  alterations  made  in  the  folio  copy 
by  the  licenser.  MALONE. 

7  They  are  close  denotements,  "working from  the  heart, 

That  passion  cannot  rule.~\  Thus  the  earliest  quarto.  But 
fet  Dr.  Warburton  be  heard  in  defence  of  "  cold  dilations,"  the 
reading  of  the  second  folio. 

I  should  willingly,  however,  have  adopted  an  emendation  pro- 
posed by  Dr.  Johnson,  in  the  subsequent  note,  could  I  have  dis- 
covered that  the  word — delation  was  ever  used  in  its  Roman 
sense  of  accusation,  during  the  time  of  Shakspeare.  Bacon  fre- 
quently employs  it,  but  always  to  signify  carriage  or  conveyance. 

STEEVENS. 

These  stops  and  breaks  are  cold  dilations,  or  cold  keeping  back 
a  secret,  which  men  of  phlegmatick  constitutions,  whose  hearts 
are  not  swayed  or  governed  by  their  passions,  we  find,  can  do : 
VOL.  XIX.  2  B 


370  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

I  AGO.  For  Michael  Cassio,— 

I  dare  be  sworn,  I  think  that  he  is  honest. 
OTH.  I  think  so  too. 

while  more  sanguine  tempers  reveal  themselves  at  once,  and 
without  reserve.    WARBURTON. 

That  dilations  anciently  signified  delays,  may  be  ascertained, 
by  the  following  passage  in  the  Golden  Legend,  Wynken  de 
Worde's  edit.  fo.  186:  "  And  ye  felony  of  this  kyng  suffred  not 
to  abyde  only  dilacyon  of  vengeance.  For  the  nexte  daye 
folowynge  he  made  to  come  the  kepers  for  to  begyn  to  turment 
them"  &c. 

Again,  ibid.  p.  199  :  "  And  Laurence  demaunded  dylacyon  of 
thre  dayes."  Again,  in  Candlemas  Day,  &c.  p.  9 : 

" 1  warne  you  without  delacion, 

"  That  ye  make  serch  thurgh  out  all  my  region." 

STEEVENS. 

The  old  copies  give, — dilations,  except  that  the  earlier  quarto 
has — denotements;  which  was  the  author's  first  expression,  after- 
wards  changed  by  him,  not  to  dilations,  but  to  delations;  to 
occult  and  secret  accusations,  working  involuntarily  from  the 
heart,  which,  though  resolved  to  conceal  the  fault,  cannot  rule 
(ts  passion  of  resentment.  JOHNSON. 

They  are  close  denotements,  &c.]  5.  e.  indications,  or  reco- 
veries, not  openly  revealed,  but  involuntarily  working  from  the 
heart,  which  cannot  rule  and  suppress  its  feelings. 

The  folio  reads — They  are  close  dilations;  but  nothing  is  got 
by  the  change,  for  dilations  was  undoubtedly  used  in  the  sense  of 
dilatcments,  or  large  and  full  expositions.  See  Minsheu's  Diet, 
1617  :  "  To  dilate  or  make  large." 

Dilatement  is  used  in  the  sense  of  dilation  by  Lodge,  our 
poet's  contemporary  :  "  After  all  this  foul  weather  follows  a  calm 
dilatement  of  others  too  forward  harmfulness."  Rosalynde,  or 
Euphues  Golden  Legacie,  4to.  1592. 

Dr.  Johnson  very  elegantly  reads — They  are  close  delations. 

But  the  objection  to  this  conjectural  reading  is,  that  there  is 
strong  ground  for  believing  that  the  word  was  not  used  in  Shak- 
speare's  age.  It  is  not  found  in  any  Dictionary  of  the  time,  that 
I  have  seen,  nor  has  any  passage  been  quoted  in  support  of  it. 
On  the  contrary,  we  find  in  Minsheu  the  verb,  "  To  delate" 
not  signifying,  to  accuse,  but  thus  interpreted :  "  to  speak  at  large 
of  any  thing,  vid.  to  dilate:"  so  that  if  even  delations  were  the 
word  of  the  old  copy,  it  would  mean  no  more  than  dilations.  To- 
the  reading  of  the  quarto  no  reasonable  objection  can  be  made. 

MALONE. 


sc.m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          371 

I  AGO.  Men  should  be  what  they  seem  ; 

Or,  those  that  be  not, 'would  they  might  seem  none  I8 

OTH.  Certain,  men  should  be  what  they  seem. 

IAGO.  Why  then, 

I  think  that  Cassio9  is  an  honest  man. 

OTH.  Nay,  yet  there's  more  in  this : 
I  pray  thee,  speak  to  me  as  to  thy  thinkings, 
Asthoudostruminatejandgivethyworstofthoughts 
The  worst  of  words. 

IAGO.  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.1 
Utter  my  thoughts  ?    Why,  say,  they  are  vile  and 

false, — 

As  where's  that  palace,  whereinto  foul  things 
Sometimes  intrude  not  ?2  who  has  a  breast  so  pure, 
But  some  uncleanly  apprehensions 
Keep  leets,  and  law-days,  and  in  session  sit 

8  Or,  those  that  be  not,  'would  they  might  seem  none !]     I  be- 
lieve the  meaning  is,  'would  they  might  no  longer  seem,  or  bear 
the  shape  of  men.    JOHNSON. 

May  not  the  meaning  be :  'Would  they  might  not  seem  honest! 

MALONE. 

9  that  Cassio — ]    For  the  sake  of  measure,  I  have  ven- 
tured to  insert  the  pronoun — that.     STEEVENS. 

1  to  that  all  slaves  are  free  to.]     I  am  not  bound  to  do 

that,  which  even  slaves  are  not  bound  to  do.     MALONE. 

So,  in  Cymbeline: 

" O,  Pisanio, 

"  Every  good  servant  does  not  all  commands, 
"  No  bond  but  to  do  just  ones."     STEEVENS. 

•  there's  that  palace,  whereinto  foul  things 

Sometimes  intrude  not?"]  So,  in  The  Rape  ofLucrece: 

" no  perfection  is  so  absolute, 

"  That  some  impurity  doth  not  pollute."    MALONE. 

2  B  2 


372  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

With  meditations  lawful  ?3 

OTH.Thou  dost  conspire  against  thyfriend,  lago, 
If  thou  but  think'st  him  wrong' d,  and  mak'st  his  ear 
A  stranger  to  thy  thoughts. 

IAGO.  I  do  beseech  you, — 

Though  I,  perchance,  am  vicious  in  my  guess,4 

3  toko  has  a  breast  so  pure, 

But  some  uncleanly  apprehensions 

Keep  leets,  and  law-days,  and  in  session  sit 
With  meditations  lawful  ?~\  Leets,  and  law-days,  are  syno- 
nymous terms:  "  Leet  (says  Jacob,  in  his  Law  Dictionary,)  is 
otherwise  called  a  law-day."  They  are  there  explained  to  be 
courts,  or  meetings  of  the  hundred,  "  to  certify  the  king  of  the 
good  manners,  and  government,  of  the  inhabitants,"  and  to  en- 
quire of  all  offences  that  are  not  capital.  The  poet's  meaning 
will  now  be  plain:  Who  has  a  breast  so  little  apt  to  form  ill 
opinions  of  others,  but  that  foul  suspicion  will  sometimes  mix  with 
his  fairest  and  most  candid  thoughts,  and  erect  a  court  in  his  mind, 
to  enquire  of  the  offences  apprehended.  STEEVENS. 

Who  has  so  virtuous  a  breast  that  some  uncharitable  surmises 
and  impure  conceptions  will  not  sometimes  enter  into  it ;  hold  a 
session  there  as  in  a  regular  court,  and  "  bench  by  the  side"  of 
authorised  and  lawful  thoughts  ? — In  our  poet's  30th  Sonnet  we 
find  the  same  imagery : 

"  When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought 
"  I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past." 

*'  A  leet,"  says  Bullokar,  in  his  English  Expositor,  1616,  "  is 
a  court  or  law-day,  holden  commonly  every  half  year."  To  keep 
a  leet  was  the  verbum  juris;  the  title  of  one  of  the  chapters  in 
Kitchin's  book  on  Courts,  being,  "  The  manner  of  keeping  a 
court-leet."  The  leet,  according  to  Lambard,  was  a  court  or 
jurisdiction  above  the  wapentake  or  hundred,  comprehending 
three  or  four  hundreds.  The  jurisdiction  of  this  court  is  now  in 
most  places  merged  in  that  of  the  County  Court.  MALONE. 

4  I  do  beseech  you, — 

Though  7,  perchance,  am  vicious  in  my  guess,  ~]  Not  to  men- 
tion that,  in  this  reading,  the  sentence  is  abrupt  and  broken,  it 
is  likewise  highly  absurd.  I  beseech  you  give  yourself  no  un- 
easiness from  my  unsure  observance,  though  I  am  vicious  in  my 
guess.  For  his  being  an  ill  guesser  was  a  reason  why  Othello 
should  not  be  uneasy  :  in  propriety,  therefore,  it  should  either 
have  been,  though  I  am  not  vicious,  or  because  I  am  vicious.  It 
appears  then  we  should  read : 


sc.  ///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          373 

As,  I  confess,  it  is  my  nature's  plague 
To  spy  into  abuses ;  and,  oft>  my  jealousy 

/  do  beseech  you, 

Think,  /,  perchance,  am  vicious  in  my  guess, . 

Which  makes  the  sense  pertinent  and  perfect.  WARBURTON. 

That  abruptness  in  the  speech  which  Dr.  Warburton  complains 
of,  and  would  alter,  may  be  easily  accounted  for.  lago  seems 
desirous  by  this  ambiguous  hint,  Though  I — to  inflame  the  jea- 
lousy of  Othello,  which  he  knew  would  be  more  effectually  done 
in  this  manner,  than  by  any  expression  that  bore  a  determinate 
meaning.  The  jealous  Othello  would  fill  up  the  pause  in  the 
speech,  which  lago  turns  off  at  last  to  another  purpose,  and  find 
a  more  certain  cause  of  discontent,  and  a  greater  degree  of  tor- 
ture arising  from  the  doubtful  consideration  how  it  might  have 
concluded,  than  he  could  have  experienced  had  the  whole  of  what 
lie  enquired  after  been  reported  to  him  with  every  circumstance 
of  aggravation. 

We  may  suppose  him  imagining  to  himself,  that  lago  mentally 
continued  the  thought  thus,  Though  I — knoiv  more  than  I  choose 
to  speak  of. 

Vicious  in  my  guess  does  not  mean  that  he  is  an  ill  guesser, 
but  that  he  is  apt  to  put  the  worst  construction  on  every  thing 
he  attempts  to  account  for. 

Out  of  respect  for  the  subsequent  opinions  of  Mr.  Henley  and 
Mr.  Malone,  I  have  altered  my  former  regulation  of  this  passage ; 
though  I  am  not  quite  convinced  that  any  change  was  needful. 

STEEVENS. 

I  believe  nothing  is  here  wanting,  but  to  regulate  the  punc- 
tuation : 

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 
Shapes  faults  that  are  not, —  &c.     HENLEY. 

The  reader  should  be  informed,  that  the  mark  of  abruption 
which  I  have  placed  after  the  word  you,  was  placed  by  Mr. 
Steevens  after  the  word  perchance :  and  his  note,  to  which  I  do 
not  subscribe,  is  founded  on  that  regulation.  I  think  the  poet 
intended  that  lago  should  break  off  at  the  end  of  the  first  hemi- 
stich, as  well  as  in  the  middle  of  the  fifth  line.  What  he  would 
have  added,  it  is  not  necessary  very  nicely  to  examine. 

The  adversative  particle,  though,  in  the  second  line,  does  not 
indeed  appear  very  proper ;  but  in  an  abrupt  and  studiously 


374  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

Shapes  faults  that  are  not, — I  entreat  you  then,5 
From  one  that  so  imperfectly  conjects, 
You'd  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. 

OTH.  What  dost  thou  mean  ? 

IAGO.  Good  name,  in  man,  and  woman,  dear  my 

lord, 

Is  the  immediate  jewel  of  their  souls :  ( 

Who  steals  my  purse,  steals  trash  j  'tis  something, 

nothing;6 

clouded  sentence  like  the  present,  where  more  is  meant  to  be 
conveyed  than  meets  the  ear,  strict  propriety  may  well  be  dis- 
pensed with.  The  word  perchance,  if  strongly  marked  in  speak- 
ing, would  sufficiently  show  that  the  speaker  did  not  suppose 
himself  vicious  in  his  guess. 

By  the  latter  words,  lago,  I  apprehend,  means  only,  "  though 
I  perhaps  am  mistaken,  led  into  an  errour  by  my  natural  dispo- 
sition, which  is  apt  to  shape  faults  that  have  no  existence." 

MALONE. 

5  /  entreat  you  then,  &c.]   Thus  the  quarto,  1622.     The 

folio  reads : 

-  •    —  •  and  of,  my  jealousy 
Shapes  faults  that  are  not]  that  your  wisdom 
From  one  that  so  imperfectly  conceits, 
Would  take  no  notice.     MALONE. 

To  conject,  i.  e.  to  conjecture,  is  a  word  used  by  other  writers. 
So,  in  Acolastus,  a  comedy,  1540: 

"  Now  reason  I,  or  conject  with  myself." 
Again : 

"  I  cannot  forget  thy  saying,  or  thy  conjecting  words." 

STEEVENS. 

0  Good  name,  in  man,  and  'woman,  dear  my  lord, 
Is  the  immediate  jewel  of  their  souls: 

Who  steals  my  purse,  steals  trash  ;  &c.]  The  sacred  writings 
were  here  perhaps  in  our  poet's  thoughts :  "  A  good  name  is 
rather  to  be  chosen  than  great  riches,  and  loving  favour  than 
silver  and  gold ."  Proverbs,  ch.  xxii.  1.  MALONE. 


47.  ///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          375 

'Twas  mine,  'tis  his,  and  has  been  slave  to  thou- 
sands ; 

But  he,  that  filches  from  me  my  good  name, 
Robs  me  of  that,  which  not  enriches  him, 
And  makes  me  poor  indeed. 

OTH.  By  heaven,  I'll  know  thy  thought. 

IAGO.  You  cannot,  if  my  heart  were  in  your 

hand; 
Nor  shall  not,  whilst  'tis  in  my  custody. 

OTH.  Ha ! 

IAGO.  O,  beware,  my  lord,  of  jealousy ; 
It  is  the  green-ey'd  monster,  which  doth  mock 
The  meat  it  feeds  on  :7  That  cuckold  lives  in  bliss, 

7  'which  doth  mock 

The  meat  it  feeds  on:~\  i.  e.  loaths  that  which  nourishes  and 
sustains  it.  This  being  a  miserable  state,  lago  bids  him  beware 
of  it.  The  Oxford  editor  reads : 

ivhich  doth  make 

The  meat  it  feeds  on. 

Implying  that  its  suspicions  are  unreal  and  groundless,  which  is 
the  very  contrary  to  what  he  would  here  make  his  general  think, 
as  appears  from  what  follows  : 

That  cuckold  lives  in  bliss,  &c. 

In  a  word,  the  villain  is  for  fixing  him  jealous :  and  therefore 
bids  him  beware  of  jealousy,  not  that  it  was  an  unreasonable,  but 
a  miserable  state ;  and  this  plunges  him  into  it,  as  we  see  by  his 
reply,  which  is  only  : 

"  O  misery !"     WARBURTON. 

I  have  received  Hamner's  emendation  ;  because  to  mock,  does 
not  signify  to  loath;  and  because,  when  lago  bids  Othello  be- 
ware of  jealousy,  the  green-ey'd  monster,  it  is  natural  to  tell  why 
he  should  beware,  and  for  caution  he  gives  him  two  reasons, 
that  jealousy  often  creates  its  own  cause,  and  that,  when  the 
causes  are  real,  jealousy  is  misery.  JOHNSON. 

In  this  place,  and  some  others,  to  mock  seems  the  same  with 
to  mammock.  FARMER. 

If  Shakspeare  had  written — a  green-ey'd  monster,  we  might 
have  supposed  him  to  refer  to  some  creature  existing  only  in  his 


376  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

Who,  certain  of  his  fate,  loves  not  his  wronger ; 

particular  imagination ;  but  the  green-ey'd  monster  seems  to  have 
reference  to  an  object  as  familiar  to  his  readers  as  to  himself. 

It  is  known  that  the  tiger  kind  have  green-eyes,  and  always 
play  with  the  victim  to  their  hunger,  before  they  devour  it.  So, 
in  our  author's  Tarquin  and  Lucrece: 

"  Like  foul  night-waking  cat,  he  doth  but  dally, 

<(  While  in  his  hold-fast  foot  the  weak  mouse  panteth— .'r 
Thus,  a  jealous  husband,  who  discovers  no  certain  cause  why 
he  may  be  divorced,  continues  to  sport  with  the  woman  whom 
he  suspects,  and,  on  more  certain  evidence,  determines  to  punish. 
There  is  no  beast  that  can  be  literally  said  to  make  its  own  food, 
and  therefore  I  am  unwilling  to  receive  the  emendation  of  Sir 
Thomas  Hanmer,  especially  as  I  flatter  myself  that  a  glimpse  of 
meaning  may  be  produced  from  the  old  reading. 

One  of  the  ancient  senses  of  the  verb — to  mock,  is  to  amuse, 
to  play  with.  Thus,  in  A  Discourse  of  Gentlemen  lying  in  Lon- 
don that  were  better  keep  Home  at  Home  in  their  Country,  1593  : 

"  A  fine  deuise  to  keepe  poore  Kate  in  health, 

"  A  pretty  toy  to  mock  an  ape  withal." 

i.  e.  a  pretty  toy  to  divert  an  ape,  for  an  ape  to  divert  himself 
with.  The  same  phrase  occurs  in  Marston's  Satires,  the  ninth 
of  the  third  Book  being  intitled  "  — Here's  a  toy  to  MOCKE  an 
ape,"  &c.  i.  e.  afford  an  ape  materials  for  sport,  furnish  him  with 
a  plaything,  though  perhaps  at  his  own  expence,  as  the  phrase 
may  in  this  instance  be  ironically  used. 

In  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  the  contested  word — mock,  occurs 
again : 

« tell  him 

"  He  mocks  the  pauses  that  he  makes." 

i.  e.  he  plays  wantonly  with  those  intervals  of  time  which  he 
should  improve  to  his  own  preservation. 

Should  such  an  explanation  be  admissible,  the  advice  given 
by  lago  will  amount  to  this ; — Beware,  my  lord,  of  yielding  to  a 
passion  which  as  yet  has  no  proofs  to  justify  its  excess.  Think 
how  the  interval  between  suspicion  and  certainty  must  be  Jilled. 
Though  you  doubt  her  Jidelity,  you  cannot  yet  refuse  her  your 
bed,  or  drive  her  from  your  heart ;  but,  like  the  capricious  savage, 
must  continue  to  sport  with  one  whom  you  wait  for  an  opportunity 
to  destroy. 

A  similar  idea  occurs  in  All's  well  that  ends  well: 

" so  lust  doth  play 

"  With  what  it  loaths." 
Such  is  the  only  sense  I  am  able  to  draw  from  the  original  text. 


sc.  in.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          377 
But,  O,  what  damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er, 


What  I  have  said,  may  be  liable  to  some  objections,  but  I  have 
nothing  better  to  propose.  That  jealousy  is  a  monster  which 
often  creates  the  suspicions  on  which  it  feeds,  may  be  well  ad- 
mitted, according  to  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  proposition ;  but  is 
it  the  monster?  (i.e.  the  well-known  and  conspicuous  animal) 
or  whence  has  it  green  eyes  ?  Yellow  is  the  colour  which  Shak- 
speare  usually  appropriates  to  jealousy.  It  must  be  acknow- 
ledged, that  he  afterwards  characterizes  it  as — 

"  . a  monster, 

"  Begot  upon  itself,  born  on  itself." 
but  yet — 

" What  damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er,"  &c. 

is  the  best  illustration  of  my  attempt  to  explain  the  passage.  To 
produce  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  meaning,  a  change  in  the  text  is- 
necessary.  I  am  counsel  for  the  old  reading.  STEEVENS. 

It  is  so  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  extract  any  sense  from 
this  passage  as  it  stands,  even  by  the  most  forced  construction 
of  it,  and  the  slight  amendment  proposed  by  Hanmer,  renders  it 
so  clear,  elegant,  and  poetical,  that  I  am  surprized  the  editors 
hesitate  in  adopting  it,  and  still  more  surprized  they  should  re- 
ject it.  As  for  Steevens's  objection,  that  the  definite  article  is 
used,  not  the  indefinite,  he  surely  need  not  be  told  in  the  very 
last  of  these  plays,  that  Shakspeare  did  not  regard  such  minute 
inaccuracies,  which  may  be  found  in  every  play  he  wrote. 

When  Steevens  compares  the  jealous  man,  who  continues  to 
sport  with  the  woman  he  suspects,  and  is  determined  to  destroy, 
to  the  tiger  who  plays  with  the  victim  of  his  hunger,  he  forgets 
that  the  meat  on  which  jealousy  is  supposed  to  feed,  is  not  the 
woman  who  is  the  object  of  it,  but  the  several  circumstances  of 
suspicion  which  jealousy  itself  creates,  and  which  cause  and 
nourish  it.  So  Emilia,  at  the  end  of  the  third  Act  in  answer  to 
Desdemona,  who,  speaking  of  Othello's  jealousy,  says  : 

"  Alas  the  day !  I  never  gave  him  cause ;" 
replies, — 

"  But  jealous  fools  will  not  be  answer'd  so; 

"  They  are  not  jealous  ever  for  the  cause, 

"  But  jealous,  for  they  are  jealous ;  'tis  a  monster, 

"  Begot  upon  itself,  born  on  itself" 

This  passage  is  a  strong  confirmation  of  Hanmer's  reading. 
The  same  idea  occurs  in  Massinger's  Picture,  where  Matthias, 
speaking  of  the  groundless  jealousy  he  entertained  of  Sophia's 
possible  inconstancy,  says : 


378  OTHELLO,  ACT  in* 

"Who  dotes,  yet  doubts;  suspects,  yet  strongly  loves!8 

" but  why  should  I  nourish, 

"  A  fury  here,  and  with  imagined  food, 
"  Holding  no  real  ground  on  which  to  raise 
"  A  building  of  suspicion  she  was  ever, 
"  Or  can  be  false  ?" 

Imagind  food,  is  food  created  by  imagination,  the  food  that 
jealousy  makes  and  feeds  on.  M.  MASON. 

In  order  to  make  way  for  one  alteration,  Mr.  M.  Mason  is 
forced  to  foist  in  another ;  or  else  poor  Shakspeare  must  be  ar- 
raigned for  a  blunder  of  which  he  is  totally  guiltless.  This  gen- 
tleman's objections  both  to  the  text  in  its  present  state,  and  to 
Mr.  Steevens's  most  happy  illustration  of  it,  originate  entirely  in 
his  own  misconception,  and  a  jumble  of  figurative  with  literal 
expressions.  To  have  been  consistent  with  himself  he  should 
have  charged  Mr.  Steevens  with  maintaining,  that  it  was  the 
property  of  a  jealous  husband,  first  to  mock  his  WIFE,  and  after- 
wards to  eat  her. 

In  Act  V.  the  word  mocks  occurs  in  a  sense  somewhat  similar 
to  that  in  the  passage  before  us : 

"  Emil.  O  mistress,  villainy  hath  made  mocks  with  love  !" 

HENLEY. 

I  think  myself  particularly  indebted  to  Mr.  Henley  for  the 
support  he  has  given  to  my  sentiments  concerning  this  difficult 
passage ;  and  shall  place  more  confidence  in  them  since  they 
have  been  found  to  deserve  his  approbation.  STEEVENS. 

I  have  not  the  smallest  doubt  that  Shakspeare  wrote  make,  and 
have  therefore  inserted  it  in  my  text.  The  words  make  and 
mocke  (for  such  was  the  old  spelling)  are  often  confounded  in 
these  plays,  and  I  have  assigned  the  reason  in  a  note  on  Mea- 
sure for  Measure,  Vol.  VI.  p.  219,  n.  2. 

Mr.  Steevens  in  his  paraphrase  on  this  passage  interprets  the 
word  mock  by  sport ;  but  in  what  poet  or  prose-writer,  from 
Chaucer  and  Mandeville  to  this  day,  does  the  verb  to  mode  sig- 
nify to  sport  with  ?  In  the  passage  from  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
I  have  proved,  I  think,  incontestably,  from  the  metre,  and  from 
our  poet's  usage  of  this  verb  in  other  places,  (in  which  it  is 
followed  by  a  personal  pronoun,)  that  Shakspeare  must  have 
written— 

"  Being  so  frustrate,  tell  him,  he  mocks  us  by 
"  The  pauses  that  he  makes." 
See  Vol.  XVII.  p.  257,  n.  5. 

Besides;  is  it  true  as  a  general  position,  that  jealousy  (as  jea- 
lousy) sports  or  plays  faith  the  object  of  love  (allowing  this  not 


x.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          379 
OTH.  O  misery ! 

very  delicate  interpretation  of  the  words,  the  meat  it  feeds  on,  to 
be  the  true  one)  ?  The  position  certainly  is  not  true.  It  is  Love, 
not  Jealousy,  that  sports  with  the  object  of  its  passion ;  nor  can 
those  circumstances  which  create  suspicion,  and  which  are  the 
meat  it  feeds  on,  with  any  propriety  be  called  the  food  of  LOVE, 
when  the  poet  has  clearly  pointed  them  out  as  the  food  or  cause 
of  JEALOUSY;  giving  it  not  only  being,  but  nutriment. 

"  There  is  no  beast,"  it  is  urged,  "  that  can  literally  be  said 
to  make  its  own  food."  It  is  indeed  acknowledged,  that  jea- 
lousy is  a  monster  which  often  creates  the  suspicions  on  which 
it  feeds,  but  is  it,  we  are  asked,  "  the  monster  ?  ( i.  e.  a  •well- 
known  and  conspicuous  animal ;  )  and  whence  has  it  green  eyes  ? 
bellow  is  the  colour  which  Shaksptare  appropriates  to  jealousy.'* 

To  this  I  answer,  that  yellow  is  not  the  only  colour  which 
Shakspeare  appropriates  to  jealousy,  for  we  have  in  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice: 

ff shuddering  fear,  and  green-ey'd  jealousy." 

and  I  suppose  it  will  not  be  contended  that  he  was  there  think- 
ing of  any  of  the  tiger  kind. 

If  our  poet  had  written  only — "  It  is  the  green-ey'd  monster ; 
beware  of  it ;"  the  other  objection  would  hold  good,  and  some 
particular  monster,  x;ar'  s^o^v,  must  have  been  meant ;  but  the 
words,  "  It  is  the  green-ey'd  monster,  which  doth,"  &c.  in  my 
apprehension  have  precisely  the  same  meaning,  as  if  the  poet 
had  written,  "  It  is  that  green-ey'd  monster,  which,"  &c.  or, 
"  it  is  a  green-ey'd  monster."  He  is  the  man  in  the  world 
whom  I  would  least  wish  to  meet, — is  the  common  phraseology 
of  the  present  day. 

When  Othello  says  to  lago  in  a  former  passage,  "  By  heaven, 
he  echoes  me,  as  if  there  were  some  monster  in  his  thought," 
does  any  one  imagine  that  any  animal  whatever  was  meant  ? 

The  passage  in  a  subsequent  scene,  to  which  Mr.  Steevens 
has  alluded,  strongly  supports  the  emendation  which  has  been 
made: 

" jealousy  will  not  be  answer'd  so  ; 

"  They  are  not  ever  jealous  for  the  cause, 

"  But  jealous,  for  they  are  jealous ;  'tis  a  monster, 

"  Begot  upon  itself,  born  on  itself" 

It  is,  strictly  speaking,  as  false  that  any  monster  can  be  begot, 
•or  born,  on  itself,  as  it  is,  that  any  monster  (whatever  may  be 
the  colour  of  its  eyes,  whether  green  or  yellow,)  can  make  its 
own  food ;  but,  poetically,  both  are  equally  true  of  that  mon- 
ster, JEALOUSY.  Mr.  Steevens  seems  to  have  been  aware  of 


380  OTHELLO,  ACT  lit. 

I  AGO.  Poor,  and  content,  is  rich,  and  rich  enough  j9 
But  riches,  fineless,1  is  as  poor  as  winter,2 

this,  and  therefore  has  added  the  word  literally:   "  No  monster 
can  be  literally  said  to  make  its  own  food." 

It  should  always  be  remembered,  that  Shakspeare's  allusions 
scarcely  ever  answer  precisely  on  both  sides ;  nor  had  he  ever 
any  care  upon  this  subject.  Though  he  has  introduced  the  word 
jnonster, — when  he  talked  of  its  making  its  oivn  food,  and  being 
"begot  by  itself,  he  was  still  thinking  of  jealousy  only,  careless 
whether  there  was  any  animal  in  the  world  that  would  corre- 
spond with  this  description. 

That  by  the  words,  the  meat  it  feeds  on,  is  meant,  not  Desde- 
mona  herself,  as  has  been  maintained,  but  pabulum  zelolypice, 
may  be  likewise  inferred  from  a  preceding  passage  in  which  a 
kindred  imagery  is  found : 

"  That  policy  may  either  last  so  long, 
"  Or  feed  upon  such  nice  and  waterish  diet,"  &c. 
And  this  obvious  interpretation  is  still  more  strongly  con- 
firmed by  Daniel's  Rosamond,  1592,  a  poem  which  Shakspeare 
had  diligently  read,  and  has  more  than  once  imitated  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet : 

"  O  Jealousy 

"  Feeding  upon  suspect  that  doth  renew  thee, 
"  Happy  were  lovers,  if  they  never  knew  thee.'* 
In  this  and  the  few  other  places  in  which  I  have  ventured  to 
depart  from  the  ancient  copies,  I  have  thought  it  my  duty  to 
state  in  the  fullest  and  clearest  manner  the  grounds  on  which 
the  emendation  stands :  which  in  some  cases  I  have  found  not 
easily  accomplished,  without  running  into  greater  prolixity  than 
would  otherwise  be  justifiable.     MA  LONE. 

8  strongly  loves  !]     Thus  the  quarto ;  the  folio — soundly 

loves.     STEEVENS. 

9  Poor,  and  content,  is  rich,    and  rich  enough ;]      So,  in 
Dorastus  and  Fawnia,  (the  novel  on  which  The  Winter  s  Tale 
is  formed,)  1592:  "  We  are  rich,  in  that  we  are  poor  with  con- 
tent."    MALONE. 

The  same  sentiment,  which  is  sufficiently  common,  is  ampli- 
fied by  Dryden  in  his  Indian  Emperor: 

"  We  to  ourselves  will  all  our  wishes  grant ; 

"  For  nothing  coveting,  we  nothing  want."    STEEVENS. 

1  But  riches,  Jtneless,~]  Unbounded,  ondless,  unnumbered 
treasures.  JOHNSON. 


*?.///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         381 

To  him  that  ever  fears  he  shall  be  poor : — 
Good  heaven,  the  souls  of  all  my  tribe  defend 
From  jealousy ! 

OTH.  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  resolv'd :  Exchange  me  for  a  goat, 
When  I  shall  turn  the  business  of  my  soul 
To  such  exsufflicate  and  blown  surmises,3 
Matching  thy  inference.4     '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  j 

*  as  poor  as  winter,]  Finely  expressed:  winter  pro- 
ducing no  fruits.  WARBURTON. 

3  To  such  exsufflicate  and  blown  surmises,^   [  Sir  Thomas  Han- 
mer — exsuffblate.']  This  odd  and  far-fetched  word  was  made  yet 
more  uncouth  in  all  the  editions  before  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's, 
by  being  printed — exsufflicate.   The  allusion  is  to  a  bubble.   Do 
not  think,  says  the  Moor,  that  I  shall  change  the  noble  designs 
that  now  employ  my  thoughts,  to  suspicions  which,  like  bubbles 
blown  into  a  wide  extent,  have  only  an  empty  show  without  so- 
lidity ;  or  that,  in  consequence  of  such  empty  fears,  I  will  close 
with  thy  inference  against  the  virtue  of  my  wife.    JOHNSON. 

Whether  our  poet  had  any  authority  for  the  word  exsiiffUcate, 
which  I  think  is  used  in  the  sense  of  swollen,  and  appears  to  have 
been  formed  from  sufflatus,  I  am  unable  to  ascertain:  but  I 
have  not  thought  it  safe  to  substitute  for  it  another  word  equally 
unauthorised.  Suffblare  in  Italian  signifies  to  whistle.  How 
then  can  Dr.  Johnson's  interpretation  of  exstiffblate  be  support- 
ed ?  The  introducer  of  this  word  explains  it,  by  "  whispered, 
buzz'd  in  the  ears."  MALONE. 

4  blown  surmises. 

Matching  thy  inference.'}    That  is, — such  as  you  have  men- 
tioned in  describing  the  torments  of  jealousy.  The  part  of  lago's: 
speech  particularly  alluded  to,  is  that  where  he  says : 
"  But,  O,  what  damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er, 
"  Who  dotes,  yet  doubts ;  suspects,  yet  strongly  loves !'* 

M.  MASON, 


382  OTHELLO,  ACT  in. 

Where  virtue  is,  these  are  more  virtuous  :5 
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. 

I  AGO.  I  am  glad  of  this ;  for  now  I  shall  have 

reason 

To  show  the  love  and  duty  that  I  bear  you 
With  franker  spirit :  therefore,  as  I  am  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 : 
I  would  not  have  your  free  and  noble  nature, 
Out  of  self-bounty,  be  abus'd  ;6  look  to't : 
I  know  our  country  disposition  well ; 
In  Venice7  they  do  let  heaven  see  the  pranks 


*  Where  virtue  is,  these  are  more  virtuous  :~\  An  action  in 
itself  indifferent,  grows  virtuous  by  its  end  and  application. 

JOHNSON. 

I  know  not  why  the  modern  editors,  in  opposition  to  the  first 
quarto  and  folio,  read  most  instead  of  more. 

A  passage  in  All's  well  that  ends  well,  is  perhaps  the  best 
comment  on  the  sentiment  of  Othello :  "  I  have  those  good 
hopes  of  her,  education  promises:  his  disposition  she  in- 
herits :  which  makes  fair  gifts  fairer"  Gratior  e  pulchro  ve- 
niens  et  corpore  "virtus.  STEEVENS. 

Most  is  the  reading  of  the  second  folio.     RITSON. 

0  Out  of  self-bounty,  be  abus'd;~]  Self-bounty  for  inherent  ge- 
nerosity. WARBURTON. 

7  our  country  disposition 

In  Venice — ]    Here  lago  seems  to  be  a  Venetian. 

JOHNSON. 

There  is  nothing  in  any  other  part  of  the  play,  properly  un- 
derstood, to  imply  otherwise.  HENLEY. 

Various  other  passages,  as  well  as  the  present,  prove  him  to 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          383 

They  dare  not  show  their  husbands;  their  best 

conscience 
Is — not  to  leave  undone,  but  keep  unknown.8 

OTH.  Dost  thou  say  so  ? 

I  AGO.  She  did  deceive  her  father,  marrying  you; 
And,  when  she  seem'd9  to  shake,  and  fear  your 

looks, 
She  lov'd  them  most. 

OTH.  And  so  she  did. 

I  AGO.  Why,  go  to,  then ; 

She  that,  so  young,  could  give  out  such  a  seeming, 
To  seel  her  father's  eyes  up,  close  as  oak,1 — 

have  been  a  Venetian,  nor  is  there  any  ground  for  doubting  the 
poet's  intention  on  this  head.     See  p.  358,  n.  1.     MALONE. 

8  Js — not  to  leave  undone,  but  keep  unknown."]     The  folio 
perhaps  more  clearly  reads : 

/*  not  to  leav't  undone,  but  keep't  unknown.     STEEVENS. 

The  folio,  by  evident  error  of  the  press,  reads — kept  un- 
known. MALONE. 

9  And,  ivhen  she  seem'd — ]    This  and  the  following  argument 
of  lago  ought  to  be  deeply  impressed  on  every  reader.     Deceit 
and  falsehood,  whatever  conveniences  they  may  for  a  time  pro- 
mise or  produce,  are  in  the  sum  of  life,  obstacles  to  happiness. 
Those,  who  profit  by  the  cheat,  distrust  the  deceiver,  and  the  act 
by  which  kindness  is  sought,  puts  an  end  to  confidence. 

The  same  objection  may  be  made  with  a  lower  degree  of 
strength  against  the  imprudent  generosity  of  disproportionate 
marriages.  When  the  first  heat  of  passion  is  over,  it  is  easily 
succeeded  by  suspicion,  that  the  same  violence  of  inclination, 
•which  caused  one  irregularity,  may  stimulate  to  another ;  and 
those  who  have  shewn,  that  their  passions  are  too  powerful  for 
their  prudence,  will,  with  very  slight  appearances  against  them, 
be  censured,  as  not  very  likely  to  restrain  them  by  their  virtue. 

JOHNSON. 

1  To  seel  her  father's  eyes  up,  close  as  oak,]  The  oak  is  (I  be- 
lieve) the  most  close-grained  wood  of  general  use  in  England. 
Close  as  oak,  means,  close  as  the  grain  of  oak. 

To  seel  is  an  expression  from  falconry.  So,  in  Ben  Jonson's- 
Catiline : 


384  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

He  thought,  'twas  witchcraft : — But  I  am  much 

to  blame ;  . 

I  humbly  do  beseech  you  of  your  pardon, 
For  too  much  loving  you. 

OTH.  I  am  bound  to  thee  for  ever. 

IAGO.  I  see,  this  hath  a  little  dash'dyour  spirits. 
OTH.  Not  a  jot,  not  a  jot. 

IAGO.  Trust  me,  I  fear  it  has. 

I  hope,  you  will  consider,  what  is  spoke 
Comes  from  my  love ; — But,   I  do  see  you  are 

mov'd : — 

I  am  to  pray  you,  not  to  strain  my  speech 
To  grosser  issues,2  nor  to  larger  reach, 
Than  to  suspicion. 

OTH.  I  will  not. 

IAGO.  Should  you  do  so,  my  lord, 

My  speech  should  fall  into  such  vile  success3 


•  would  have  kept 


"  Both  eyes  and  beak  seel'd  up,  for  six  sesterces." 

STEEVENS. 

To  seel  a  hawk  is  to  sew  up  his  eye-lids.  See  Vol.  XVII. 
p.  281,  n.  3. 

In  The  Winter's  Tale,  Paulina  says : 

"  The  root  of  his  opinion,  which  is  rotten 

"  As  ever  oak,  or  stone,  was  sound."     MA  LONE. 

2  To  grosser  issues,]    Issues,  for  conclusions.    WARBURTON. 

3  My  speech  should  Jail  into  such  vile  success — ]      Success, 
tor  succession,  i.  e.  conclusion  ;  not  prosperous  issue. 

WARBURTON. 

I  rather  think  there  is  a  depravation,  and  would  read : 

My  speech  will  Jail  into  such  vile  excess. 

If  success  be  the  right  word,  it  seems  to  mean  consequence  or 
event,  as  successo  is  used  in  Italian.     JOHNSON. 

I  think  success  may,  in  this  instance,  bear  its  common  inter- 
pretation. What  lago  means  seems  to  be  this  :  "  Should  you 
do  so,  my  lord,  my  words  would  be  attended  by  such  an  infa- 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          385 

As  my  thoughts  aim  not  at.     Cassio's  my  worthy 

friend : — 
My  lord,  I  see  you  are  mov'd. 

OTH.  No,  not  much  mov'd : — 

I  do  not  think  but  Desdemona's  honest. 

IAGO.  Long  live  she  so  !  and  long  live  you  to 
think  so ! 

OTH.  And  yet,  how  nature  erring  from  itself, — 

IAGO.  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,4 
Foul  disproportion,  thoughts  unnatural. — 
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  (hapily)  repent. 

OTH.  Farewell,  farewell : 


mous  degree  of  success,  as  my  thoughts  do  not  even  aim  at." 
lago,  who  counterfeits  the  feelings  of  virtue,  might  have  said 
Jail  into  success,  and  vile  success,  because  he  would  appear  to 
Othello,  to  wish  that  the  enquiry  into  Desdemona's  guilt  might 
prove  fruitless  and  unsuccessful.  See  Hamlet,  Vol.  XVIII. 
p.  115.  STEEVENS. 

The  following  passages  will  perhaps  be  considered  as  proofs 
of  Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  : 

"•  Then  the  poor  desolate  women,  fearing  least  their  case 

would  sorte  to  some  pitifull  successe."     Palace  of  Pleasure,  bl.  1. 

"  God  forbyd  all  hys  hope  should  turne  to  such  successe." 

Promos  and  Cassandra,  1578.     HENDERSOK. 

a  will  most  rank,]      Will,  is  for  wilfulness.     It  is  so 

\ised  by  Aschain.     A  rank  will,  is  self-ivill  overgrown  and  exu- 
berant.    JOHNSON. 

'•or.  xix.  2  c 


386  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

If  more  thou  dost  perceive,  let  me  know  more; 
Set  on  thy  wife  to  observe  :  Leave  me,  lago. 

IAGO.  My  lord,  I  take  my  leave.  [Going. 

OTII.  Why  did  I  marry  ? — This  honest  creature, 

doubtless, 
Sees  and  knows  more,  much  more,  than  he  unfolds. 

IAGO.  My  lord,  I  would,  I  might  entreat  your 

honour 

To  scan  this  thing  no  further;  leave  it  to  time : 
And  though  it  be  fit  that  Cassio  have  his  place, 
(For,  sure,  he  fills  it  up  with  great  ability,) 
Yet,  if  you  please  to  hold  him  off  a  while, 
You  shall  by  that  perceive  him  and  his  means  :5 
Note,  if  your  lady  strain  his  entertainment6 
With  any  strong  or  vehement  opportunity ; 
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. 

OTH.  Fear  not  my  government.7 

IAGO.  I  once  more  take  my  leave.  [Exit. 

OTH.  This  fellow's  of  exceeding  honesty, 
And  knows  all  qualities,  with  a  learned  spirit,8 

•*  You  shall  by  that  perceive  him  and  his  means:]  You  shall 
discover  whether  he  thinks  his  best  means,  his  most  powerful  in- 
terest, is  by  the  solicitation  of  your  lady.  JOHNSON. 

6 strain  his  entertainment — ]  Press  hard  his  re-admissiou 

to  his  pay  and  office.  Entertainment  was  the  military  term  for 
admission  of  soldiers.  JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Coriolanus :  "  —  the  centurions,  and  their  charges, 
distinctly  billeted,  and  already  in  the  entertainment." 

STEEVENS. 

7  Fear  not  my  government."]  Do  not  distrust  my  ability  to  con- 
Jain  my  passion.     JOHNSON. 

8  = ivitk  a  learned  spirit,]     Learned^  for  experienced- 

WARBURTOX. 


sc.  in.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          387 

Of  human  dealings :  If  I  do  prove  her  haggard,9 
Though  that  her  jesses  were  my  dear  heart-strings,1 
I'd  whistle  her  off,  and  let  her  down  the  wind, 
To  prey  at  fortune.2     Haply,  for  I  am  black ; 


The  construction  is,  He  knows  with  a  learned  spirit  all  qua- 
lities of  human  dealings.  JOHNSON. 

9 If  I  do  prove  her  haggard,]     A  haggard  hawk,  is  a 

noild  hawk,  a  hawk  unreclaimed,  or  irreclaimable.     JOHNSON. 

A  haggard  is  a  particular  species  of  hawk.  It  is  difficult  to 
be  reclaimed,  but  not  irreclaimable. 

From  a  passage  in  The  White  Devil,  or  Vittoria  Corombona, 
1612,  it  appears  that  haggard  was  a  term  of  reproach  sometimes 
applied  to  a  wanton  :  "  Is  this  your  perch,  you  haggard?  fly  to 
the  stews." 

Turbervile  says,  that  "  haggart  falcons  are  the  most  excellent 
birds  of  all  other  falcons."  Latham  gives  to  the  haggart  only 
the  second  place  in  the  valued  jile.  In  Holland's  Leaguer,  a 
comedy,  by  Shakerly  Marmyon,  1633,  is  the  following  illustra- 
tive passage : 

"  Before  these  courtiers  lick  their  lips  at  her, 
"  I'll  trust  a  wanton  haggard  in  the  wind." 
Again : 

"  For  she  is  ticklish  as  any  haggard, 
"  And  quickly  lost." 

Again,  in  Two  Wise  Men,  and  all  the  rest  Fools,  1619: 
"  —  the  admirable  conquest  the  faulconer  maketh  in  a  hawk's 
nature;  bringing  the  wild  haggard,  having  all  the  earth  and  seas 
to  scour  over  uncontroulably,  to  attend  and  obey,"  &c.  Hag- 
gard, however,  had  a  popular  sense,  and  was  used  for  wild  by 
those  who  thought  not  on  the  language  of  falconers.  STEEVENS. 
1  Though  that  her  jesses  were  my  dear  heart-strings,']  Jesses 
are  short  straps  of  leather  tied  about  the  foot  of  a  hawk,  by 
which  she  is  held  on  the  fist.  HANMER. 

In  Hey  wood's  comedy,  called,  A  Woman  killed  with  Kindness, 
1617,  a  number  of  these  terms  relative  to  hawking  occur  to- 
gether : 

"  Now  she  hath  seiz'd  the  fowl,  and  'gins  to  plume  her ; 
"  Rebeck  her  not ;  rather  stand  still  and  check  her. 
"  So:  seize  her  gets,  her  jesses,  and  her  bells." 

STEEVENS. 

*  I'd  whistle  her  off",  and  let  her  down  the  wind, 
To  prey  at  fortune.']     The  falconers  always  let  fly  the  hawk 

2  c  2 


S&8  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

And  have  not  those  soft  parts  of  conversation3 
That  chamberers4  have  :  Or,  for  I  am  declin'd 
Into  the  vale  of  years  •, — yet  that's  not  much  ;— 


against  the  wind  ;  if  she  flies  with  the  wind  behind  her,  she  sel- 
dom returns.  If  therefore  a  hawk  was  for  any  reason  to  be  dis- 
missed, she  was  let  down  the  wind,  and  from  that  time  shifted  for 
herself,  and  preyed  at  fortune.  This  was  told  me  by  the  late 
Mr.  Chirk.  JOHNSON. 

This  passage  may  possibly  receive  illustration  from  a  similar 
one  in  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  p.  2,  sect.  i.  mem.  3 : 
"  As  a  long-winged  hawke,  when  he  is  first  whistled  off  the  fat, 
mounts  aloft,  and  for  his  pleasure  fetcheth  many  a  circuit  in  the 
ayre,  still  soaring  higher  and  higher,  till  he  comes  to  his  full  pitch, 
and  in  the  end,  when  the  game  is  sprung,  comes  down  amaine, 
and  stoupes  upon  a  sudden."  PERCY. 

Again,  in  The  Spanish  Gipsie,  1653,  by  Middleton  and 
Rowley : 

" That  young  lannerd, 

"  Whom  you  have  such  a  mind  to;  if  you  can  whistle 

her 

"  To  come  tojist,  make  trial,  play  the  young  falconer." 
A  lannerd  is  a  species  of  a  hawk. 

Again,  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Bonduca : 

"  _ he  that  basely 

"  Whistled  his  honour  offto  the  wind,"  &c.    STEEVENS. 
parts  of  conversation — ]   Parts  seems  here  to  be  syno- 


nymous with  arts,  as  in'  Tis  Pity  she's  a  Whore,  Act  II.  speak- 
ing of  singing  and  musick  : 

"  They  are  parts  I  love."     REED. 

4 chamberers  — ~]     i.   e.  men   of  intrigue.     So,   in  the 

Countess  of  Pembroke's  Antonius,  1590: 

"  Fal'n  from  a  souldier  to  a  chamberer" 
Again,  in  Chaucer's  Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  ver.  4935: 

"  Only  through  youth  the  chamberere." 
Thus,  in  the  French  Poem: 

"  Par  la  jeunesse  la  chambriere."     STEEVENS. 

The  sense  of  chamberers  may  be  ascertained  from  Rom.  xiii. 
13,  where  tj^r/   KOITAIS  is  rendered,  in  the  common  version, 

"  not  in  CHAMBERING."       HENLEY. 

Chambering  and  wantonness  are  mentioned  together  in  the 
»acred  writings.    MALONE. 


«?.  ///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          339 

She's  gone  ;  I  am  abus'd;  and  my  relief 
Must  be — to  loath  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  others*  uses.  Yet,  'tis  the  plague  of  great  ones ; 
Prerogativ'd  are  they  less  than  the  base  ;5 
'Tis  destiny  unshunnable,  like  death  j6 
JEven  then  this  forked  plague7  is  fated  to  us, 

4  Prerogativ'd  are  they  less  than  the  base;~]  In  asserting  that 
the  base  have  more  prerogative  in  this  respect  than  the  great, 
that  is,  that  the  base  or  poor  are  less  likely  to  endure  this  forked 
plague,  our  poet  has  maintained  a  doctrine  contrary  to  that  laid 
down  in  As  you  like  it : — "  Horns  ?  even  so. — Poor  men  alone  ? 
No,  no;  the  noblest  deer  has  them  as  huge  as  the  rascal" 
Here  we  find  all  mankind  are  placed  on  a  level  in  this  respect, 
and  that  it  is  "  destiny  unshunnable,  like  death." 

S'hakspeare  would  have  been  more  consistent,  if  he  had 
written — 

Prerogativ'd  are  they  more  than  the  base  ? 
Othello  would  then  have  answered  his  own  question:  [No  ;~\ 
6Tis  destiny,  &c.     MALONE. 

Allowance  must  be  made  to  the  present  state  of  Othello's 
mind :  passion  is  seldom  correct  in  its  effusions.  STEEVENS. 

6'Tis  destiny  unshunnable,  like  death ;]  To  be  consistent, 
Othello  must  mean,  that  it  is  destiny  unshunnable  by  great  ones, 
not  by  all  mankind.  MALONE. 

7 forked  plague — ]  In  allusion  to  a  barbed  or  forked  ar- 
row, which,  once  infixed,  cannot  be  extracted.  JOHNSON. 

Or  rather,  the  forked  plague  is  the  cuckold's  horns.     PERCY, 

Dr.  Johnson  may  be  right.  I  meet  with  the  same  thought  iu 
Middleton's  comedy  of  A  Mad  World  my  Masters,  1608: 

"  While  the  broad  arrow,  with  the  forked  head, 

"  Misses  his  brows  but  narrowly." 
Again,  in  King  Lear: 

" though  the  fork  invade 

"  The  region  of  my  heart."     STEEVENS. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  Dr.  Percy's  interpretation  is  the  true  one. 
JLet  our  poet  speak  for  himself.  "  Quoth  she,"  says  Pandarus, 


390  OTHELLO,  ACT  in. 

When  we  do  quicken.     Desdemona  comes:8 

Enter  DESDEMONA  and  EMILIA. 

If  she  be  false,  O,  then  heaven  mocks  itself!9 — . 
I'll  not  believe  it. 

DES.  How  now,  my  dear  Othello  f 

Your  dinner,  and  the  generous  islanders l 

in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  "  which  of  these  hairs  is  Paris,  my  hus- 
band ?  The  forked  one,"  quoth  he ;  "  pluck  it  out,  and  give  it 
him."  Again,  in  The  Winter's  Tale  : 

" o'er  head  and  ears  afork'd  one." 

So,  in  Tarleton's  News  out  of  Purgatorie  :  *'  — but  the  old 
squire,  knight  of  the  forked  order, — ." 

One  of  Sir  John  Harrington's  Epigrams,  in  which  our  poet's 
very  expression  is  found,  puts  the  matter  beyond  a  doubt: 

*  Actaeon  guiltless  unawares  espying 

*  Naked  Diana  bathing  in  her  bowre, 

'  Was  plagu'd  with  homes  ;  his  dogs  did  him  devoure ; 

*  Wherefore  take  heed,  ye  that  are  curious,  prying, 

*  With  some  such  forked  plague  you  be  not  smitten, 
"  And  in  your  foreheads  see  your  faults  be  written." 

MALONE, 

8 Desdemona  comes :]   Thus  the  quartos.  The  folio  reads 

— Look  where  she  comes.     STEEVENS. 

9  If  she  be  false,  O,  then  heaven  mocks  itself!']  i.  e.  renders  its 
own  labours  fruitless,  by  forming  so  beautiful  a  creature  as  Des- 
demona, and  suffering  the  elegance  of  her  person  to  be  dis- 
graced and  sullied  by  the  impurity  of  her  mind. — Such,  Ithink, 
is  the  meaning. — The  construction,  however,  may  be  different. 
If  she  be  false,  O,  then  even  heaven  itself  cheats  us  with  "  un- 
real mockeries,"  with  false  and  specious  appearances,  intended 
only  to  deceive.  MALONE. 

The  first  of  the  foregoing  explanations,  is,  I  believe,  the  true 
one. — If  she  be  false,  heaven  disgraces  itself  by  creating  woman 
after  its  otun  image.  To  have  made  the  resemblance  perfect,  she 
should  have  been  good  as  well  as  beautiful.  STEEVENS. 

1 the  generous  islanders — ]     Are  the  islanders  of  rank t 

distinction.  So,  in  Measure  for  Measure  : 
"  The  generous  and  gravest  citizens 
"  Have  hent  the  gates." 


«?.///.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          391 

By  you  invited,  do  attend  your  presence. 
OTH.  I  am  to  blame. 

DES.  Why  is  your  speech  so  faint  ?  are  you  not 
well  ? 

OTH.  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. 

OTH.  Your  napkin  is  too  little;2 

\_He  puts  the  Handkerchief  from  him,  and  it 

drops. 
Let  it  alone.     Come,  I'll  go  in  with  you. 

DES.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  are  not  well. 

\_Exeunt  OTH.  and  DES. 

EMIL.  I  am  glad  I  have  found  this  napkin  ; 
This  was  her  first  remembrance  from  the  Moor  : 
My  wayward  husband  hath  a  hundred  times 
Woo'd  me  to  steal  it :  but  she  so  loves  the  token, 
(For  he  conjur'd  her,  she  would  ever  keep  it,) 
That  she  reserves  it  evermore  about  her, 


Generous  has  here  the  power  of  generosus,  Lat.  This  expla- 
nation, however,  may  be  too  particular.  STEEVENS. 

a  Your  napkin  #c.]  Ray  says,  that  a  pocket  handkerchief  is 
so  called  about  Sheffield  in  Yorkshire.  So,  in  Greene's  Never  too 
Late,  1616:  "  I  can  wet  one  of  my  new  lockeram  napkins  with 
weeping." 

Napery  signifies  linen  in  general.  So,  in  Decker's.  Honest 
Whore,  1635 :  "  — prythee  put  me  into  wholesome  napery" 
Again,  in  Chapman's  May  Day,  1611:  "  Besides  your  muni- 
tion of  manchet,  napery,  plates,"  &c.  Again,  in  Hide  Park,  by 
Shirley,  1637:  "  A  gentleman  that  loves  clean  napery"  Na- 
peria,  Ital.  STEEVENS. 

In  the  North  of  England,  and  in  Scotland,  this  term  for  a 
handkerchief  is  still  used.  The  word  has  already  often  occurred. 
See  Vol.  X.  p.  121,  n.  6  ;  and  Vol.  XVI.  p.  356,  n.  8.  MALONE. 


392  OTHELLO,  ACTin. 

To  kiss,  and  talk  to.     I'll  have  the  work  ta'en  out,3 
And  give  it  lago : 

What  he'll  do  with  it,  heaven  knows,  not  I; 
I  nothing,  but  to  please  his  fantasy.4 


Enter  I  AGO. 

IAGO.  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 

3 I'll  have  the  txorlc  ta'en  out,]     That  is,  copied.     Her 

first  thoughts  are,  to  have  a  copy  made  of  it  for  her  husband, 
and  restore  the  original  to  Desdemona.  But  the  sudden  coming 
in  of  lago,  in  a  surly  humour,  makes  her  alter  her  resolution,  to 
please  him.  The  same  phrase  afterwards  occurs  between  Cas- 
sio  and  Bianca,  in  scene  iv.  BLACKSTONE. 

This  scheme  of  getting  the  work  of  this  valued  handkerchief 
copied,  and  restoring  the  original  to  Desdemona,  was,  I  suppose, 
introduced  by  the  poet,  to  render  Emilia  less  unamiable. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  when  she  perceives  Othello's  fury  on  the 
loss  of  this  token,  though  she  is  represented  as  affectionate  to 
her  mistress,  she  never  attempts  to  relieve  her  from  her  distress; 
which  she  might  easily  have  done  by  demanding  the  handkerchief 
from  her  husband,  or  divulging  the  story,  if  he  refused  to  restore 
it. — But  this  would  not  have  served  the  plot. 

Shakspeare  fell  into  this  incongruity  by  departing  from  Cin- 
thio's  novel ;  for  there,  while  the  artless  Desdemona  is  caressing 
the  child  of  Othello's  ancient,  (the  lago  of  our  play, )  the  villain 
steals  the  handkerchief  which  hung  at  her  girdle,  without  the 
knowledge  of  his  wife.  MALONE. 

J  I  nothing,  but  to  please  1m  fantasy. ~\  Thus  the  folio.  The 
quarto,  1622,  reads: 

/  nothing  know  but  for  his  fantasy.     STEEVENS, 


sc.  m.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         395 

For  that  same  handkerchief? 
I  AGO.  What  handkerchief? 

EMIL.  What  handkerchief? 
Why,  that  the  Moor  first  gave  to  Desdemona ; 
That  which  so  often  you  did  bid  me  steal. 

I  AGO.  Hast  stolen  it  from  her  ? 

EMIL.  No,  faith  ;  she  let  it  drop  by  negligence ; 
And,  to  the  advantage,  I,  being  here,  took't  up.5 
Look,  here  it  is. 

IAGO.  A  good  wench  ;  give  it  me. 

EMIL.  What  will  you  do  with  it,  that  you  have 

been  so  earnest 
To  have  me  filch  it  ? 

IAGO.  Why,  what's  that  to  you  ? 

\_Snatching  it. 

EMIL.  If  it  be  not  for  some  purpose  of  import, 
Give  it  me  again  :  Poor  lady !  she'll  run  mad, 
When  she  shall  lack  it. 

IAGO.  Be  not  you  known  oft  j6  I  have  use  for  it. 

4  to  the  advantage,  &c.~]  I  being  opportunely  here,  took 

it  up.     JOHNSON. 

So,  Marlowe's  King  Edward  II : 

"  And  there  stay  time's  advantage  with  your  son." 

REED. 

6  Be  not  you  known  oft ;]  i.  e.  seem  as  if  you  knew  nothing 
of  the  matter.  The  folio  reads — Be  not  acknown  ont ;  meaning, 
perhaps, — "  do  not  acknowledge  any  thing  of  the  matter." 

This  word  occurs  also  in  the  seventh  Book  of  Golding's  trans- 
lation of  Ovid's  Metamorphosis : 

"  Howbeit  I  durst  not  be  so  bolde  of  hope  acknoivne  to 
be." 

Again,  in  Puttenham's  Arte  of  English  Poesie,  1589,  p.  212: 
"  —  so  would  I  not  have  a  translatour  be  ashamed  to  be  acknoiven 
of  his  translation."  STEEVENS. 

,     Again,  in  The  Life  of  Ariosto,  subjoined  to  Sir  John  Harring- 


394  OTHELLO,  ACTIII. 

Go,  leave  me.  \JExit  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  : 7 — 

Dangerous  conceits  are,  in  their  natures,  poisons, 

Which,  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:* — 

ton's  translation  of  Orlando,  p.  418,  edit.  1607:  "  Some  say, 
he  was  married  to  her  privilie,  but  durst  not  be  acknowne  of  it." 

PORSON. 

Be  not  you  known  oft ;]  Thus  the  quarto,  except  that  it  has 
on't ,  the  vulgar  corruption  in  speaking  and  writing,  of  of't  or  of 
it;  as  is  proved  by  various  passages  in  these  plays  as  exhibited  in 
the  folio  and  quarto,  where  in  one  copy  we  find  the  corrupt  and 
in  the  other  the  genuine  words:  and  both  having  the  same 
meaning. 

The  participial  adjective,  found  in  the  folio,  is  used  by  Thomas 
Kyd,  in  his  Cornelia,  a  tragedy,  1594- : 

"  Our  friends'  misfortune  doth  increase  our  own. 
"  Cic.  But  ours  of  others  will  not  be  acknoun." 

MALONE. 

7  The  Moor  already  &c.~]  Thus  the  folio.  The  line  is  not  in 
the  original  copy,  1622.  MALONE. 

8 /  did  say  so.-]  As  this  passage  is  supposed  to  be  ob- 
scure, I  shall  attempt  an  explanation  of  it. 

lago  first  ruminates  on  the  qualities  of  the  passion  which  he 
is  labouring  to  excite ;  and  then  proceeds  to  comment  on  its 
effects.  Jealousy  (says  he)  'with  the  smallest  operation  on  the 
blood,  Jlames  out  with  all  the  violence  of  sulphur,  &c. 

" 1  did  say  so  ; 

"  Look  where  he  comes !" 

i.  e.  I  knew  that  the  least  touch  of  such  a  passion  would  not  per- 
mit the  Moor  to  enjoy  a  moment  of  repose : — I  have  just  said  that 
jealousy  is  a  restless  commotion  of  the  mind;  and  look  where 
Othello  approaches,  to  confirm  the  propriety  and  justice  of  my 
observation.  STEEVENS. 

As  Mr.  Steevens  has  by  his  interpretation  elicited  some  mean- 
ing (though  I  still  think  an  obscure  one)  out  of  this  difficult 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         395 

Enter  OTHELLO. 

Look,  where  he  comes !  Not  poppy,  nor  mandra- 

gora,9 

Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world, 
Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
Which  thou  ow'dst  yesterday.1 

OTH.  Ha !  ha !  false  to  me  ? 

To  me  ? 

I  AGO.  Why,  how  now,  general  ?  no  more  of  that. 

OTH.  Avaunt !  be  gone  !  thou  hast  set  me  on  the 

rack : — 

I  swear,  'tis  better  to  be  much  abus'd, 
Than  but  to  know't  a  little. 

I  AGO.  How  now,  my  lord  ? 

OTH.  What  sense  had  I  of  her  stolen  hours  of 
lust?2 

hemistich,  I  readily  retract  an  amendment  I  had  formerly  pro- 
posed, being  of  opinion  that  such  bold  and  licentious  conjectures 
can  never  be  warranted,  unless  where  the  sense  is  quite  despe- 
rate. BLACKSTONE. 

9 nor  mandr agora,]     The  mandragoras  or  mandrake  has 

a  soporifick  quality,  and  the  ancients  used  it  when  they  wanted 
an  opiate  of  the  most  powerful  kind. 
So  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act  I.  sc.  vi : 

" give  me  to  drink  mandragora, 

"  That  I  may  sleep  out  this  great  gap  of  time 
"  My  Antony  is  away."     STEEVENS. 

See  Vol.  XVII.  p.  51,  n.  9.     MALONE. 

1  Which  thou  ow'dst  yesterday.^  To  otxe  is,  in  our  author, 
oftener  to  possess,  than  to  be  indebted,  and  such  is  its  meaning 
here.  JOHNSON. 

See  Vol.  X.  p.  386,  n.  8.     MALONE. 

*  What  sense  had  I  £c.]  A  similar  passage  to  this  and  what 
follows  it,  is  found  in  an  unpublished  tragi-comedy  by  Thomas 
Middleton,  called  The  Witch .- 


396  OTHELLO,  ACTIU. 

I  saw  it  not,  thought  it  not,  it  harm'd  not  me : 
I  slept  the  next  night  well,  was  free  and  merry  ;3 
I  found  not  Cassio's  kisses  on  her  lips : 
He  that  is  robb'd,  not  wanting  what  is  stolen, 
Let  him  not  know  it,  and  he's  not  robb'd  at  all. 

*'  I  feele  no  ease ;  the  burthen's  not  yet  off, 

"  So  long  as  the  abuse  sticks  in  my  knowledge. 

"  Oh,  'tis  a  paine  of  hell  to  know  one's  shame ! 

"  Had  it  byn  hid  and  don,  it  had  been  don  happy, 

"  For  he  that's  ignorant  lives  long  and  merry." 
Again : 

"  Had'st  thou  byn  secret,  then  had  I  byn  happy, 

"  And  had  a  hope  (like  man)  of  joies  to  come. 

"  Now  here  I  stand  a  stayne  to  my  creation ; 

"  And,  which  is  heavier  than  all  torments  to  me, 

"  The  understanding  of  this  base  adultery,"  &c. 
This  is  uttered  by  a  jealous  husband  who  supposes  himself  to 
have  just  destroyed  his  wife. 
Again,  lago  says : 

"  Dangerous  conceits,  &c. 

" with  a  little  act  upon  the  blood, 

"  Burn  like  the  mines  of  sulphur." 
Thus  Sebastian,  in  Middleton's  play : 

"  When  a  suspect  doth  catch  once,  it  burnes  maynely." 

A  scene  between  Francisca  and  her  brother  Antonio,  when 

she  first  excites  his  jealousy,  has  likewise  several  circumstances 

in  common  with  the  dialogue  which  passes  between  lago  and 

Othello  on  the  same  subject. 

This  piece  also  contains  a  passage  very  strongly  resembling 
another  in  Hamlet,  who  says :  "  I  am  but  mad  north-north- 
west :  when  the  wind  is  southerly,  I  know  a  hawk  from  a  hand- 
saw."— Thus,  Almachildes  :  "  There  is  some  difference  betwixt 
my  joviall  condition  and  the  lunary  state  of  madnes.  I  am  not 
quight  out  of  my  witts  :  I  know  a  bawd  from  an  aqua-vitae  shop, 
a  strumpet  from  wild-fire,  and  a  beadle  from  brimstone," 

For  a  further  account  of  this  MS.  play,  see  in  Vol.  II.  a  note 
on  Mr.  Malone's  Attempt  to  ascertain  the  Order  in  which  the 
Pieces  of  Shakspeare  "were  'written : — Article,  Macbeth. 

STEEVENS. 

3  I  slept  the  next  night  well,  was  free  and  merry  ;~\  Thus  the 
quartos.  The  folio  reads — 

"  I  slept  the  next  night  well ;  fed  well;  was  free  and 
merry."     STEEVENS. 


sc.  m.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.        397 

I  AGO.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  this. 

OTH.  I  had  been  happy,  if  the  general  camp, 
Pioneers  and  all,4  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,5  and  the  shrill  trump, 

4 if  the  general  camp, 

Pioneers  and  «/7,]  That  is,  the  most  abject  and  vilest  of 
the  camp.  Pioneers  were  generally  degraded  soldiers,  appointed 
to  the  office  of  pioneer,  as  a  punishment  for  misbehaviour. 

"  A  soldier  ought  ever  to  retaine  and  keepe  his  arms  in  saftie  ,, 
and  forth  comming,  for  he  is  more  to  be  detested  than  a  coward, 
that  will  lose  or  play  away  any  part  thereof,  or  refuse  it  for  his 
ease,  or  to  avoid  paines ;  wherefore  such  a  one  is  to  be  dismissed 
with  punishment,  or  to  be  made  some  abject  pioner."  The  Art 
of  War  and  England  Trainings,  &c.  by  Edward  Davies,  Gent. 
LG19. 

So,  in  The  Lmvs  and  Ordinances  of  War,  established  by  the 
Earl  of  Essex,  printed  in  1640:  "  If  a  trooper  shall  loose  his 
horse  or  hackney,  or  a  footman  any  part  of  his  arms,  by  negli- 
gence or  lewdnesse,  by  dice  or  cardes  ;  he  or  they  shall  remain 
in  qualitie  of  pioners,  or  scavengers,  till  they  be  furnished  with 
as  good  as  were  lost,  at  their  own  charge."  GROSE. 

5  Fareivcll  the  plumed  troop,  and  the  big  "wars, 

Farewell  the  neighing  steed,  &c.~\  In  a  very  ancient  drama 
entitled  Common  Conditions,  printed  about  1576,  Sedmond,  who 
has  lost  his  sister  in  a  wood,  thus  expresses  his  grief: 

"  But  farewell  now,  my  coursers  brave,  attraped  to  the 

ground ! 
"  Farewell !  adue  all  pleasures  eke,  with  comely  hauke 

and  hounde ! 

"  Fai'ewell,  ye  nobles  all,  farewell  eche  marsial  knight, 
"  Farewell,  ye  famous  ladies  all,  in  whom  I  did  delight! 
"  Adue,  my  native  soile,  adue,  Arbaccus  kyng, 
"  Adue,  eche  wight,  and  marsial  knight,   adue,  eche 

living  thyng !" 

One  is  almost  tempted  to  think  that  Shakspeare  had  read  this 
f>kl  play.  MALONE. 

I.  know  not  why  we  should  suppose  that  Shakspeare  borrowed 


398  OTHELLO,  ACT  ni. 

The  spirit-stirring  drum,  the  ear-piercing  fife,6 

so  common  a  repetition  as  these  diversified  farewells  from  any 
preceding  drama.  A  string  of  adieus  is  perhaps  the  most  tempt- 
ing of  all  repetitions,  because  it  serves  to  introduce  a  train 
of  imagery,  as  well  as  to  solemnify  a  speech  or  composition. 
Wolsey,  like  Othello,  indulges  himself  in  many  farewells ;  and 
the 

"  Valete,  aprica  montium  cacumina ! 

"  Valetc,  opaca  vallium  cubilia !"  &c. 

are  common  to  poets  of  different  ages  and  countries.  I  have 
now  before  me  an  ancient  MS.  English  Poem,  in  which  sixteen 
succeeding  verses  begin  with  the  word  farewell,  applied  to  a 
Variety  of  objects  and  circumstances : 

"  Farewell  prowesse  in  purpell  pall"  &c.     STEEVENS. 

6  The  spirit-stirring  dnim,  the  ear-piercing  Jife,"]     In  mention- 
ing the  Jife  joined  with  the  drum,  Shakspcare,  as  usual,  paints 
from  the  life ;  those  instruments  accompanying  each  other  being 
used  in  his  age  by  the  English  soldiery.     The  fife,  however,  as 
a  martial  instrument,  was  afterwards  entirely  discontinued  among 
our  troops  for  many  years,  but  at  length  revived  in  the  war  be- 
fore the  last.     It  is  commonly  supposed  that  our  soldiers  borrow- 
ed it  from  the  Highlanders  in  the  last  rebellion :  but  I  do  not 
know  that  the  jife  is  peculiar  to  the  Scotch,  or  even  used  at  all 
by  them.     It  was  first  used  within  the  memory  of  man  among 
our  troops  by  the  British  guards,  by  order  of  the  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland, when  they  were  encamped  at  Maestricht,  in  the  year 
174-7,  and  thence  soon  adopted  into  other  English  regiments  of 
infantry.     They  took  it  from  the  Allies  with  whom  they  served. 
This  instrument,  accompanying  the  drum,  is  of  considerable 
antiquity  in  the  European  armies,  particularly  the  German.    In 
a  curious  picture  in  the  Ashmolean  Museum  at  Oxford,  painted 
1525,   representing  the  siege  of  Pavia  by  the  French  King 
where  the  Emperor  was  taken  prisoner,  we  see  fifes  and  drums. 
In  an  old  English  treatise  written  by  William  Garrard  before 
1587,  and  published  by  one  Captain  Hichcock  in  1591,  intituled 
The  Art  of  IVarre,  there  are  several  wood  cuts  of  military  evo- 
lutions, in  which  these  instruments  are  both  introduced.     In 
Rymer's  Fcedera,  in  a  diary  of  King  Henry's  siege  of  Bulloigne, 
1544,  mention  is  made  of  the  drommes  and  vfficurs  marching  at 
the  head  of  the  King's  army.     Tom.  XV.  p.  53. 

The  drum  and  Jife  were  also  much  used  at  ancient  festivals, 
shows,  and  processions.  Gerard  Leigh,  in  his  Accidence  of  Ar- 
morie,  printed  in  1576,  describing  a  Christmas  magnificently 
celebrated  at  the  Inner  Temple,  says,  "  We  entered  the  prince 
his  hall,  where  anon  we  heard  the  noyse  of  drum  and  Jife." 


sc.  in.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         399 

The  royal  banner ;  and  all  quality, 

Pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war!7 

p.  119.  At  a  stately  masque  on  Shrove-Sunday,  1510,  in  which 
King  Henry  VIII.  was  an  actor,  Holinshed  mentions  the  entry 
"  of  a  drum  an&jife  apparelled  in  white  damaske  and  grene 
bonnettes."  Chron.  III.  805,  col.  2.  There  are  many  more  in- 
stances in  Holinshed  and  Stowe's  Survey  of  London. 

From  the  old  French  vrordviffleur,  above-cited,  came  the  Eng- 
lish word  ivhiffler,  which  anciently  was  used  in  its  proper  literal 
sense.  Strype,  speaking  of  a  grand  tilting  before  the  court  in 
Queen  Mary's  reign,  1554-,  says,  from  an  old  journal,  that  King 
Philip  and  the  challengers  entered  the  lists,  preceded  by  "  their 
whifflers,  their  footmen,  and  their  armourers."  Eccles.  Memor. 
III.  p.  211.  This  explains  the  use  of  the  word  in  Shakspeare, 
where  it  is  also  literally  applied.  King  Henri/  V.  Act  IV.  sc.  ult : 

. behold  the  British  beach 

Pales  in  the  flood  with  men,  with  wives  and  boys, 
Whose  shouts  and  claps  out-voice  the  deep-mouth'd  sea, 
Which,  like  a  mighty  whiffler  'fore  the  king, 
Seems  to  prepare  his  way." 
By  degrees,  the  word  uvhiffler  hence  acquired  the  metapho- 
rical meaning,  which  it  at  present  obtains  in  common  speech,  and 
became  an  appellation  of  contempt.     Whiffler,   a  light  trivial 
character,  a  fellow  hired  to  pipe  at  processions.     T.  WARTON. 

In  the  old  dramatick  piece,  intitled,  Wine,  Beer,  Ale,  and 
Tobacco,  2d  edit.  1630,  Tobacco  says  to  Beer; 

** . it  will  become  your  duty  to  obey  me." 

To  which  Wine  replies : 

"  You  our  sovereign !  a  mere  vohiffler!" 
Again,  in  Ram- Alley,  or  Merry  Tricks,  1611: 

" he  was  known 

"  But  only  for  a  swaggering  whiffler."     STEEVENS. 

~  Pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  tear/]     Sir  W. 
D' Avenant  does  not  appear  to  have  been  scrupulous  of  adopting 
almost  Shakspeare's  own  words.     So,  in  Albovine,  1629 : 
"  Then  glorious  war,  and  all  proud  circumstance 
"  That  gives  a  soldier  noise,  for  evermore  farewell" 

STEEVENS. 

Fletcher  has  parodied  this  passage  of  Othello,  in  his  Prophetess, 
which  was  first  represented  in  May,  1622  : 

" and  to  keep 

"  My  faith  untainted,  farewel  pride,  and  pomp, 
"  And  circumstance  of  glorious  majesty, 
"  Farewel,  for  ever !"     MALONE. 


400  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

And  O  you  mortal  engines,  whose  rude  throats8 
The  immortal  Jove's  dread  clamours  counterfeit, 
Farewell !  Othello's  occupation's  gone ! 

I  AGO.  Is  it  possible  ? — My  lord, 

OTH.  Villain,   be  sure  thou  prove  my  love  a 

whore  ; 
Be  sure  of  it ;  give  me  the  ocular  proof; 

[Taking  him  by  the  Throat* 
Or,  by  the  worth  of  mine  eternal  soul,9 
Thou  hadst  been  better  have  been  born  a  dog,1 
Than  answer  my  wak'd  wrath. 

IAGO.  Is  it  come  to  this  ? 

OTH.  Make  me  to  see  it ;  or  (at  the  least)  so 

prove  it, 

That  the  probation  bear  no  hinge,  nor  loop, 
To  hang  a  doubt  on :  or,  woe  upon  thy  life  ! 

IAGO.  My  noble  lord, 

OTH.  If  thou  dost  slander  her,  and  torture  me, 
Never  pray  more  :  abandon  all  remorse ; 2 
On  horror's  head  horrors  accumulate : 

9 ivhose  rude  throats — ]     So,   Milton,  Paradise  Lost, 

B.  VI: 

"  From  those  deep-throated  engines,"  £c. 
The  quarto,  1622,  reads — whose  wide  throats.     STEEVENS. 

9 mine  eternal  soul,~\     Perhaps  the  quarto,  1622,  more 

forcibly  reads — 

man's  eternal  soul, . 

Shakspeare  might  have  designed  an  opposition  between  man 
and  dog.     STEEVENS. 

1  Thou  hadst  been  better  have  been  born  a  dog,~\     Thus,  in 
Chapman's  translation  of  the  sixth  Iliad: 

" that  had  been  better  born 

"  A  dog,  than  such  a  horrid  dame."     STEEVENS. 

•abandon  all  remorse;]     All  tenderness  of  nature,  all 


pity ;  in  which  sense,  as  Mr.  Steevens  has  justly  observed,  the 
word  was  frequently  used  in  Shakspeare's  time.  See  p.  409,  n.  1, 
The  next  line  shows  it  is  used  in  this  sense  here.  MALONE. 


set  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          401 

Do  deeds  to  make  heaven  weep,3  all  earth  amaz'd, 
For  nothing  canst  thou  to  damnation  add, 
Greater  than  that. 

IAGO.  O  grace  !  O  heaven  defend  me  ! 

Are  you  a. man  ?  have  you  a  soul,  or  sense  ? — 
God  be  wi'you;  take  mine  office. — O  wretched  fool, 
That  liv'st4  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,  since5  love  breeds  such  offence. 

OTH.  Nay,  stay : — Thou  should' st  be  honest. 

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

OTH.  By  the  world,6 

I  think  my  wife  be  honest,  and  think  she  is  not  j 
I  think  that  thou  art  just,  and  think  thou  art  not ; 
I'll  have  some  proof:  Her  name,7  that  was  as  fresh 

3  Do  deeds  to  make  heaven  ixeep,~]     So,  in  Measure  for  Mea- 
sure: 

11  Plays  such  fantastick  tricks  before  high  heaven 
"  As  make  the  angels  iveep."     STEEVENS. 

4  That  liv'st—]    Thus  the  quarto.     The  folio— that  lov'st—. 

STEEVENS. 

5  since — ]    Thus  the  quarto.     The  folio, — sith,  an  anti- 
quated word,  with  the  same  meaning.     It  occurs  again  in  p.  404, 
1.  2.     STEEVENS. 

*  By  the  world,  &c.]   This  speech  is  not  in  the  first  edition. 

POPE. 

7  Her  name,  &c.]    The  folio,  where  alone  this  speech  is 

found — My  name.  Mr.  Pope  and  all  the  subsequent  editors  read 
— Her  name  :  but  this,  like  a  thousand  other  changes  introduced 
by  the  same  editor,  was  made  without  either  authority  or  necessity. 
Shakspeare  undoubtedly  might  have  written — Her  name ;  but 
the  word  which  the  old  copy  furnishes,  affords  also  good  sense. 
Othello's  name  or  reputation,  according  to  the  usual  unjust  de*«r- 
mination  of  the  world,  would  be  sullied  by  the  infidelity  of  his 
VOL.  XIX.  2  D 


402  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

As  Dian's  visage,  is  now  begrim'd  and  black 
As  mine  own  face. — If  there  be  cords,  or  knives, 
Poison,  or  fire,  or  suffocating  streams, 
I'll  not  endure  it.8 — Would,  I  were  satisfied ! 

IAGO.  I  see,  sir,  you  are  eaten  up  with  passion  : 
I  do  repent  me,  that  I  put  it  to  you. 
You  would  be  satisfied  ? 

OTH.  Would  ?  nay,  I  will. 

IAGO.  And  may :  But,  how  ?  how  satisfied,  my 

lord? 

Would  you,  the  supervisor,  grossly  gape  on  ? 
Behold  her  tupp'd?9 

wife.     Besides,  how  could  either  transcriber  or  printer  have 
substituted  My  for  Her?    MALONE. 

I  have  adopted  Mr.  Pope's  emendation,  which,  in  my  judg- 
ment, is  absolutely  necessary. 

Othello  would  scarce  have  said — "  My  name,"  and  immedi- 
ately after — "  mine  oiun  face."  The  words — "  mine  own,"  very 
plainly  point  out  that  an  opposition  was  designed  between  the 
once  unsullied  reputation  of  Desdemona,  and  the  blackness  of  his 
own  countenance.  The  same  thought  occurs  in  Titus  Andro- 
nicus  : 

"  . your  swart  Cimmerian 

"  Doth  make  your  honour  of  his  body's  hue." 

I  may  add — Would  a  man  have  compared  his  own  reputation 
to  the  face  of  a  goddess  ? 

The  query  with  which  Mr.  Malone's  note  concludes,  is  easily 
answered.  In  three  late  proof  sheets  of  this  work,  a  couple  of 
the  most  accurate  compositors  in  general,  had  substituted^>a/ace, 
less,  and  catch,  instead  of  tragedy,  more,  and  ensnare. 

STEEVENS, 

8  If  there  be  cords,  or  knives, 

Poison,  or  fire,  or  suffocating  streams, 
I'll  not  endure  it.~\   So,  in  Pericles: 

"  If  fires  be  hoi,  knives  sharp,  or  waters  deep, 

"  Untied  I  still  my  virgin  knot  will  keep."     MALONE. 

9  Behold  her  tupp'd  ?]    A  ram  in  Staffordshire  and  some  other 
counties  is  called  a  tup.     So,  in  the  first  Act : 

" an  old  black  ram 

"  Is  tupping  your  white  ewe."     STEEVENS. 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          403 

OTH.  Death  and  damnation  !  O ! 

IA&O.  It  were  a  tedious  difficulty,  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  ? 
What  shall  I  say  ?  Where's  satisfaction  ? 
It  is  impossible,  you  should  see  this, 
Were  they  as  prime  as  goats,1  as  hot  as  monkeys, 
As  salt  as  wolves  in  pride,  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  it. 

OTH.  Give  me  a  living  reason2  she's  disloyal. 

The  old  copies  have — topp'd.  Mr.  Theobald  made  the  cor- 
rection. MALONE. 

1  Were  they  as  prime  as  goats,"]  Prime  is  prompt,  from  the 
Celtick  or  British  prim.  HANMER. 

From  prim,  forward  ;  French.     RITSON. 

So,  in  The  Vow-breaker,  or  the  fair  e  Maide  of  Clifton,  1636: 

"  More  prime  than  goats  or  monkies  in  their  prides." 
Again,  in  Churchyard's  Dreame,  1593  : 

"  Colde  fortune  may  torment  me  sore, 

"  And  so  may  shifts  some  time : 
"  Not  hatred  troubles  men  much  more 

"  Than  Venus  in  her  prime.1'     STEEVENS. 

1  Give  me  a  living  reason — ]  Living,  for  speaking,  manifest. 

WARBURTON. 

Give  me  a  living  reason  that  she's  disloyal.']  Thus  the  quarto, 
1622.  The  folio  omits  the  word  that,  probably  for  the  sake  of 
the  metre  ;  but  our  poet  often  uses  such  words  as  reason,  as  a 
monosyllable.  MALONE. 

How  such  words  as  reason  can  be  pronounced  as  monosyllables, 
I  am  yet  to  learn.  STEEVENS. 

A  living  reason  is  a  reason  founded  on  fact  and  experience, 
not  on  surmise  or  conjecture  :  a  reason  that  convinces  the  under- 
standing as  perfectly  as  if  the  fact  were  exhibited  to  the  life. 

2  J>2 


404  OTHELLO,  ACT  'in.. 

IAGO.  I  do  not  like  the  office  : 
But,  sith  I  am  enter*  d  in  this  cause  so  far,  — 
Prick*  d  to  it  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  their  affairs  ; 
One  of  this  kind  is  Cassio  : 
In  sleep  I  heard  him  say,  —  Sweet  Desdemona, 
Let  us  be  wary,  let  us  hide  our  loves  ! 
And  then,  sir,  would  he  gripe,  and  wring  my  hand) 
Cry,  —  0,  sweet  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  sigli'd,  and  kiss'd  ;  and  then 
Cry'd,3  —  Cursed  fate!  that  gave  thee  to  the  Moor! 

OTH.  O  monstrous  !  monstrous  ! 

IAGO.  Nay,  this  was  but  his  dream. 

OTH.  But  this  denoted  a  foregone  conclusion;4 
*Tis  a  shrewd  doubt,  though  it  be  but  a  dream.5 


What  Othello  here  demands  is  actual  proof,  arisiug  from  some 
positive  FACT.     HENLEY. 

:!  -  and  sigh'  A,  and  kiss'd.  ;  and  then 
Cry'd,']  Thus  the  quarto,  1622.     The  folio  reads: 
"  -  then  lay'd  his  leg  o'er  my  thigh, 
"  And  sigh,  and  kiss,  and  then  cry,  cursed  fate,"  &c. 
The  omission  of  the  personal  pronoun  before  lay'd  is  much  in 
our  author's  manner.     See  Vol.  XVII.  p.  420,  n.  8.     MALONE. 

4  -  a  foregone  conclusion;]   Conclusion,  for  fact. 

WARBURTON. 

A  conclusion  in  Shakspeare's  time  meant  an  experiment  or  trial. 
See  Vol.  XVII.  p.  298,  n.  5.     MALONE. 

5  'Tis  a  shreivd  doubt,  &c.]     The  old  quarto  gives  this  line, 
with  the  two  following,  to  lago  ;  and  rightly.     WARBURTON. 

In  the  folio  this  line  is  given  to  Othello.     MALONE. 


rfc,  ///.      THE  MOOR  OF  'VENICE.          405 

I  AGO.  And  this  may  help  to  thicken  other  proofs, 
That  do  demonstrate  thinly. 

OTH.  I'll  tear  her  all  to  pieces. 

IAGO.  Nay,  but  be  wise :    yet  we  see  nothing 

done;6 

She  may  be  honest  yet.     Tell  me  but  this, — 
Have  you  not  sometimes  seen  a  handkerchief, 
Spotted  with  strawberries,  in  your  wife's  hand  ? 

OTH.  I  gave  her  such  a  one  ;  'twas  my  first  gift. 

IAGO.  I  know  not  that :  but  such  a  handkerchief, 
(I  am  sure  it  was  your  wife's,)  did  I  to-day 
See  Cassio  wipe  his  beard  with. 

OTH.  If  it  be  that,— 

IAGO.  If  it  be  that,  or  any  that  was  hers,7 
It  speaks  against  her  with  the  other  proofs. 

OTH.  O,  that  the  slave  had  forty  thousand  lives ; 
One  is  too  poor,  too  weak  for  my  revenge ! 
Now  do  I  see  'tis  true.8 — Look  here,  lago ; 


I  think  it  more  naturally  spoken  by  Othello,  who,  by  dwelling 
so  long  upon  the  proof,  encouraged  lago  to  inforce  it. 

JOHNSON. 

6  yet  IKC  see  not/ting  done  ;]    This  is  an  oblique  and  secret 

rnock  at  Othello's  saying, — Give  me  the  ocular  proof. 

WARBUHTON. 

7  thattras  liers,~\  The  only  authentick  copies,  the  quarto, 

1622,  and  the  folio,  read — or  any,  it  was  hers.     For  the  emen- 
dation I  am  answerable.     The  mistake  probably  arose  from  yt 
only  being  written  in  the  manuscript.     The  modern  editors,  fol- 
lowing an  amendment  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio, 
read — if'tivas  her's.     MALONE. 

I  prefer  Mr.  Malone's  correction  to  that  of  the  second  folio, 
though  the  latter  gives  sense  where  it  was  certainly  wanting. 

STEEVENS. 

9  Noiv  do  I  see  'tis  true.]  The  old  quarto  reads : 

Now  do  I  see  'tis  time. 
And  this  is  Shakspeare's,  and  has  in  it  much  more  force  and 


406  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

All  my  fond  love  thus  I  do  blow  to  heaven  :9 

'Tis  gone. — 

Arise,  black  vengeance,  from  thy  hollow  cell!1 


solemnity,  and  preparation  for  what  follows :  as  alluding  to  what 
he  had  said  before : 


—  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." 
This  time  was  now  come.     WARBURTON. 

9  All  my  fond  love  thus  do  I  blow  to  heaven:]  So,  in  Mar- 
lowe's Lust's  Dominion,  1657: 

"  Are  these  your  fears  ?  thus  blow  them  into  air." 

MALONE. 

Marlowe's  idea  was  perhaps  caught  from  Horace : 
"  Tradam  protervis  in  mare  Creticum 
"  Portare  ventis."     STEEVENS. 

1  -from  thy  hollow  cell !]     Thus  the  quarto,  1622.     The 

folio  reads — from  the  hollow  hell.     Hollow,  Dr.  Warburton  con- 
siders as  "  a  poor  unmeaning  epithet."     MALONE. 

I  do  not  perceive  that  the  epithet  hollow  is  at  all  unmeaning, 
when  applied  to  hell,  as  it  gives  the  idea  of  what  Milton  calls- — 

" the  void  profound 

"  Of  unessential  night," 
Or  the  inane  prnfundum  of  Lucretius. 

The  same  phrase  indeed  occurs  in  Jasper  Heywood's  transla- 
tion of  Seneca's  Thycstes,  1560: 

"  Where  most  prodigious  ugly  things  the  hollow  hell 

doth  hide." 

Again,  in  Goulart's  Admirable  Histories,  1607,  p,  626 : 
"  —  cast  headlong  into  places  under-ground  that  were  wonder- 
ful hollow where  he  had  seen  the  persons  of  the  wicked, 

their  punishments,"  &c. 

Again,  in  Arthur  Hall's  translation  of  the  eighth  Iliad: 

"  Into  the  hollow  dreadful  hole  which  Tartare  men  do 
tel."     STEEVENS. 

Again,  in  Paradise  Lost,  B.  I.  v.  314,  the  same  epithet  and 
subject  occur : 

"  He  call'd  so  loud,  that  all  the  hollow  deep 
"  Of  hell  resounded."     HOLT  WHITE. 

Milton  was  a  great  reader  and  copier  of  Shakspeare,  and  he 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          407 


2 

3 


Yield  up,  O  love,  thy  crown,  and  hearted  throne, 
To  tyrannous  hate!  swell,  bosom,  with  thy  fraught, 
For  'tis  of  aspicks*  tongues ! 

IAGO.  Pray,  be  content. 

OTH.  O,  blood,  lago,  blood ! 

IAGO.  Patience,  I  say ;  your  mind,  perhaps,  may 
change. 

OTH.  Never,  lago.4    Like  to  the  Pontick  sea,5 

undoubtedly  read  his  plays  in  the  folio,  without  thinking  of  ex- 
amining the  more  ancient  quartos.  In  the  first  Book  of  Paradise 
Lost,  we  find : 

" the  universal  host  up  sent 

"  A  shout  that  tore  hell's  concave."    MALONE. 

See  Vol.  XX.  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  II.  sc.  ii.      STEEVENS. 

2  hearted  throne,']   Hearted  throne,  is  the  heart  on  which 

thou  wast  enthroned.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Twelfth-Night: 

"  It  gives  a  very  echo  to  the  seat, 

"  Where  love  is  thron'd." 
See  also  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Vol.  XX.  Act  V.  sc.  i. 

MALONE. 

3  swell,  bosom,  &c.~]  i.  e.  swell,  because  the  fraught  is  of 

poison.     WARBURTON. 

4  Never,  lago.]     From  the  word,  Like,  to  marble  heaven,  in- 
clusively, is  not  found  in  the  quarto,  1622.     MALONE. 

*  Like  to  the  Pontick  sea,  &c.]  This  simile  is  omitted  in  the 
first  edition :  I  think  it  should  be  so,  as  an  unnatural  excursion 
in  this  place.  POPE. 

Every  reader  will,  I  durst  say,  'abide  by  Mr.  Pope's  censure 
on  this  passage.  When  Shakspeare  grew  acquainted  with  such 
particulars  of  knowledge,  he  made  a  display  of  them  as  soon,  as 
opportunity  offered,  tie  found  this  in  the  2d  Book  and  97th 
Chapter  of  Pliny's  Natural  History,  as  translated  by  Philemon 
Holland,  1601 :  "  And  the  sea  Pontus  evermore  floweth  and 
runneth  out  into  Propontis,  but  the  sea  never  retireth  backe 
againe  within  Pontus." 

Mr.  Edwards,  in  his  MS.  notes,  conceives  this, simile  to  allude 


408  OTHELLO,  ACT  in. 

Whose  icy  current  and  compulsive  course 

Ne'er  feels  retiring  ebb,6  but  keeps  due  on 

To  the  Propontick,  and  the  Hellespont ; 

]Sven  so  my  bloody  thoughts,  with  violent  pace, 

Shall  ne'er  look  back,  ne'er  ebb  to  humble  love, 

Till  that  a  capable  and  wide  revenge7 

Swallow  them  up. — Now,  by  yond'  marble  heaven,8 

In  the  due  reverence  of  a  sacred  vow        \_Kneels. 

I  here  engage  my  words. 


to  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  device,  whose  impress,  Camden,  in  his 
Remains,  says,  was  the  Caspian  sea,  with  this  motto,  Sine 
refiuxu.  STEEVENS. 

6  Ne'er  feels  retiring  ebb,~]  The  folio,  where  alone  this  passage 
is  found,  reads — Ne'er  keeps  retiring  ebb,  &c.     Many  similar 
mistakes  have  happened  in  that  copy,  by  the  compositor's  re- 
peating a  word  twice  in  the  same  line.     So,  in  Hamlet: 

(t  My  news  shall  be  the  news  [r.  fruit]  to  that  great  feast." 
Again,  ibidem: 

"  The  spirit,  upon  whose  spirit  depend  and  rest,"  &c. 
instead  of  upon  whose  weal.     The  correction  was  made  by  Mr. 
Pope.     MALONE. 

7  a  capable  and  wide  revenge — ]    Capable  perhaps  signi- 
fies ample,  capacious.     So,  in  As  yon  like  it  : 

"  The  cicatrice  and  capable  impressure." 
Again,  in  Pierce  Pennilesse  his  Supplication  to  the  Devil,  by 
Nashe,  1592:  "Then  belike,  quoth  I,  you  make  this  word, 
Daemon,  a  capable  name,  of  Gods,  of  men,  of  devils." 

It  may,  however,  mean  judicious.     In  Hamlet  the  word  is 
often  used  in  the  sense  of  intelligent.     What  Othello  says  in 
another  place  seems  to  favour  this  latter  interpretation : 
"  Good;  good; — \hejustice  of  it  pleases  me." 

MALONE. 

Capable,  means,  I  suppose,  capacious,  comprehensive. 

STEEVENS. 

8  by  yond'  marble  heaven,']    In  Soliman  and  Perseda> 

J  599,  I  find  the  same  expression : 

"  Now  by  the  marble  face  of  the  welkin,"  &c. 

STEEVENS. 

So,  in  Marston's  Antonio  and  Mellida,  1602: 

"  And  pleas'd  the  marble  heavens."     MALONE. 


sc.  in.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          409 

I  AGO.  Do  not  rise  yet. — 

[Kneels. 

Witness,  you  ever-burning  lights  above ! 
You  elements  that  clip  us  round  about ! 
Witness,  that  here  lago  doth  give  up 
The  execution9  of  his  wit,  hands,  heart, 
To  wrong' cl  Othello's  service !  let  him  command, 
And  to  obey  shall  be  in  me  remorse, 
What  bloody  work  soever.1 

OTH.  I  greet  thy  love, 


9  The  execution — ]  The  first  quarto  reads — excellency. 

STEEVENS. 

By  execution  Shakspeare  meant  employment  or  exercise.  So, 
in  Love's  Labour's  Lost: 

"  Full  of  comparisons  and  wounding  flouts, 
"  ^yhich  you  on  all  estates  will  execute." 

The  quarto,  1622,  reads — hand.     MALONE. 

Again,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida: 

"  In  fellest  manner  execute  your  arms."     STEEVENS. 

1  let  him  command, 

And  to  obey  shall  be  in  me  remorse, 

What  bloody  work  soever.]  lago  devotes  himself  to  wronged 
Othello,  and  says,  Let  him  command  whatever  bloody  business, 
and  in  me  it  shall  be  an  act,  not  of  cruelty,  but  of  tenderness, 
to  obey  him;  not  of  malice  to  others,  but  of  tenderness  for  him. 
If  this  sense  be  thought  too  violent,  I  see  nothing  better  than  to 
follow  Mr.  Pope's  reading,  as  it  is  improved  by  Mr.  Theobald. 

JOHNSON. 

The  quarto,  1622,  has  not  the  words — in  me.  They  first  ap- 
peared in  the  folio.  Theobald  reads — Nor  to  obey,  Sfc. 

MALONE. 

Dr.  Johnson's  interpretation  is  undoubtedly  the  true  one ;  and 
I  can  only  claim  the  merit  of  supporting  his  sense  of  the  word 
remorse,  i.  e.  pity,  by  the  following  instances. 

In  Lord  Surrey's  translation  of  the  fourth  jEneid,  Dido  says 
to  her  sister : 

"  Sister  I  crave  thou  have  remorse  of  me." 

Again,  in  King  Edward  III.  1599,  that  Prince  speaking  to 
the  citizens  of  Calais : 


410  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

Not  with  vain  thanks,  but  with  acceptance  boun- 
teous, 


*'  But  for  yourselves,  look  you  for  no  remorse." 
Again,  in  Sir  Clyomon  Knight  of  the  Golden  Shield,  1599: 

"  Who  taketh  no  remorse  of  womankind." 
Again,  in  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  1600: 

"  Here  stand  I,  craving  no  remorse  at  all." 
I  could  add  many  more  instances,  but  shall  content  myself  to 
observe  that  the  sentiment  of  lago  bears  no  small  resemblance 
to  that  of  Arviragus  in  Cymbeline: 

**  I'd  let  a  parish  of  such  Clotens  blood, 

"  And  praise  myself  for  charity."     STEEVENS. 

Before  I  saw  Dr.  Johnson's  edition  of  Shakspeare,  my  opinion 
of  this  passage  was  formed,  and  written,  and  thus  I  understood 
it :  "  Let  him  command  any  bloody  business,  and  to  obey  him 
shall  be  in  me  an  act  of  pity  and  compassion  for  wrong'd  Othello." 
Remorse  frequently  signifies  pity,  mercy,  compassion,  or  a  ten- 
derness of  heart,  unattended  with  the  stings  of  a  guilty  conscience. 
So,  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  Act  IV.  sc.  iii.  the  crime- 
less  Eglamour  is  called  remorseful.  So,  in  King  Richard  III. 
Act  III.  sc.  vii : 

"  As  well  we  know  your  tenderness  of  heart, 
"  And  gentle,  kind,  effeminate  remorse." 

So,  in  Holinshed's  Conquest  of  Ireland,  p.  13:  "  —  to  have 
remorse  and  compassion  upon  others  distresses ;"  and  in  the  De- 
dication, "  to  have  regard  and  remorse  to  your  said  land." 

TOLLET. 

Some  of  the  examples  quoted  by  Mr.  Steevens  I  have  omitted, 
as  I  think  those  already  inserted  are  sufficient  to  prove  the  mean- 
ing of  the  word.  Mr.  M.  Mason  says,  he  may  venture  to  assert, 
that  Shakspeare  seldom,  if  ever,  uses  the  word  in  any  other  sense. 

REED. 

If  I  am  not  deceived,  this  passage  has  been  entirely  mistaken. 
I  read : 

let  him  command, 

An'  to  obey  shall  be  in  me  remorse, 
What  bloody  business  ever — . 

And  for  if  is  sufficiently  common :  and  Othello's  impatience 
breaks  off  the  sentence,  I  think,  with  additional  beauty. 

FARMER. 

What  bloody  work  soever.]   So  the  quartos.     The  folio  : 

What  bloody  business  ever.     STEEVENS.  ; 


sc.  iv..      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         411 

And  will  upon  the  instant  put  thee  to't : 
Within  these  three  days  let  me  hear  thee  say, 
That  Cassio's  not  alive. 

I  AGO.  My  friend  is  dead  j  'tis  done,  at  your  re- 
quest : 2 
But  let  her  live. 

OTH.        Damn  her,  lewd  minx !  O,  damn  her!3 
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. 

IAGO.  I  am  your  own  for  ever.  \_Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV. 

The  same. 
Enter  DESDEMONA,  EMILIA,  and  Clown. 

DES.  Do  you  know,  sirrah,  where  lieutenant 
Cassio  lies  ? 

CLO.  I  dare  not  say,  he  lies  any  where. 
DES.  Why,  man  ? 

CLO.  He  is  a  soldier  j  and  for  me  to  say  a  soldier 
lies,  is  stabbing. 

DES.  Go  to ;  Where  lodges  he  ? 

CLO.  To  tell  you4  where  he  lodges,  is  to  tell  you 
where  I  lie. 

2  at  your  request:^  Thus  the  folio.    The  quarto,  1622, 

reads — as  you  request.     MALONE. 

3  0,  damn  her!']     Thus  the  quarto,  1622.     Folio:  O  damn 
her,  damn  her.     MALONE. 

4  To  tell  you  &c.]    This  and  the  following  speech  are  wanting 
in  the  first  quarto.     STEEVENS. 


4 1 2  OTHELLO,  ACT  in. 

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  my  own  throat. 

DES.  Can  you  enquire  him  out,  and  be  edified 
by  report  ? 

CLO.  I  will  catechize  the  world  for  him ;  that  is, 
make  questions,  and  by  them  answer.5 

DES.  Seek  him,  bid  him  come  hither :  tell  him, 
I  have  moved  my  lord  in  his  behalf,  and  hope,  all 
will  be  well. 

CLO.  To  do  this,  is  within  the  compass  of  man's 
wit  j  and  therefore  I  will  attempt  the  doing  it.6 

[Exit. 

s  Clown.  /  will  catechize  the  world  for  him;  that  is,  make 
questions,  and  by  them  answer.']  This  Clown  is  a  fool  to  some 
purpose.  He  was  to  go  seek  for  one ;  he  says,  he  will  ask  for 
him,  and  by  his  own  questions  make  answer.  Without  doubt 
we  should  read — and  bid  them  answer;  i.  e.  the  world ;  those 
whom  he  questions.  WAUBURTON. 

There  is  no  necessity  for  changing  the  text.  It  is  the  Clown's 
play  to  wrench  what  is  said,  from  its  proper  meaning.  Sir  T. 
More  hath  briefly  worked  his  character :  "  he  plaieth  the  iester, 
nowe  with  skoffinge,  and  nowe  with  his  ovcrthwarte  woords,  to 
prouoke  all  to  laughter."  His  design  here  was  to  propose  such 
questions  as  might  elicit  the  information  sought  for  from  him,  and 
therefore,  BY  his  questions  he  might  be  enabled  to  answer. 

HENLEY, 

and  J)ij  them  answer.]  i.  e.  and  by  them,  when  answered, 

form  my  own  answer  to  you.  The  quaintness  of  the  expression 
is  in  character.  By  is  found  both  in  the  quarto,  1622,  and  the 
folio. 

The  modern  editors,  following  a  quarto  of  no  authority, 
printed  in  1630,  read — and  make  them  answer.  MA!LONE. 

6  To  do  this,  is  within  the  compass  of  man's  wit ;  and  there- 
fore &c.]   So,  in  King  Lear: 

"  I  cannot  draw  a  cart,  nor  eat  wild  oats ; 
"  If  it  be  man's  work,  I'll  do  it."    MALONE. 


sc.  iv.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          413 

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  cruzadoes.7     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. 

EMIL.  Is  he  not  jealous  ? 

DES.  Who,  he  ?  I  think,  the  sun,  where  he  was 

born, 
Drew  all  such  humours  from  him. 

EMIL.  Look,  where  he  comes. 

DES.  I  will  not  leave  him  now,  till  Cassio 
Be  calPd  to  him.8 — How  is't  with  you,  my  lord  ? 

Enter  OTHELLO. 

OTH.  Well,  my  good  lady : — [_Aside.~]  O,  hard- 
ness to  dissemble ! — 
How  do  you,  Desdemona  ? 

DES.  Well,  my  good  lord. 

7  cruzadoes."]  A  Portuguese  coin,  in  value  three  shillings 

sterling.     GREY. 

So  called  from  the  cross  stamped  upon  it.     JOHNSON. 

The  exact  value  of  a  cruzado  is  here  of  no  importance,  nor 
does  it  appear  precisely  what  it  was  in  Shakspeare's  time.  By  a 
mercantile  friend  I  am  informed,  that  there  are  at  present  thre,e 
sorts.  The  imaginary  one  of  the  value  of  2s.  or  2s.  £ ,  like  the 
English  pound,  is  only  a  denomination,  and  not  a  coin.  The 
two  other  sorts  are  really  coins,  and  all  the  three  differ  in  value. 

REED. 

8 till  Cassio 


Be  call'd  to  him.']  Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto,  1622,  reads 
— Let  Cassio  be  call'd  to  him.    MALONE. 


414.  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

OTH.  Give  me  your  hand:  This  hand  is  moist, 
my  lady. 

DES.  It  yet  has  felt  no  age,  nor  known  no  sor- 
row. 

OTH.    This    argues    fruitfulness,    and    liberal 

heart ; — 

Hot,  hot,  and  moist  :9  This  hand  of  yours  requires 
A  sequester  from  liberty,  fasting  and  prayer, 
Much  castigation,  exercise  devout ; l 
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. 

OTH.  A  liberal  hand :   The  hearts  of  old,  gave 

hands ; 
But  our  new  heraldry  is — hands,  not  hearts.2 

9  Hot,  hot,  and  moist:']  Ben  Jonson  seems  to  have  attempted 
a  ridicule  on  this  passage,  in  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour, 
Act  V.  sc.  ii.  where  Sogliardo  says  to  Saviolina :  "  How  does 
my  sweet  lady  ?  hot  and  moist  ?  beautiful  and  lusty  ?" 

STEEVENS. 

Ben  Jonson  was  ready  enough  on  all  occasions  to  depreciate 
and  ridicule  our  author,  but  in  the  present  instance,  I  believe, 
he  must  be  acquitted ;  for  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour  was 
printed  in  1600,  and  written  probably  in  the  preceding  year ;  at 
which  time,  we  are  almost  certain  that  Othello  had  not  been  ex- 
hibited. MALONE. 

1  exercise  devout ;]    Exercise  was  the  religious  term. 

Henry  the  Seventh  (says  Bacon)  "had  the  fortune  of  a  true 
Christian  as  well  as  of  a  great  king,  in  living  exercised,  and  dying 
repentant." 

So,  Lord  Hastings  in  King  Richard  III.  says  to  a  priest : 

"  I  am  in  debt  for  your  last  exercise" 
See  Vol.  XIV.  390,  n.  5.     MALONE. 

2  The  hearts,  of  old,  gave  hands  ; 

But  our  new  heraldry  is — hands,  not  hearts. 3    It  is  evident 
the  first  line  should  be  read  thus : 


se.  iv.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          415 

DES.  I  cannot  speak  of  this.     Come  now  your 
promise. 

The  hands  of  old  gave  hearts; 
otherwise  it  would  be  no  reply  to  the  preceding  words, 

"  For  'twas  that  hand  that  gave  away  my  heart" 
Not  so,  says  her  husband:  The  hands  of  old  indeed  gave  hearts; 
but  the  custom  now  is  to  give  hands  without  hearts.  The  ex- 
pression of  new  heraldry  was  a  satirical  allusion  to  the  times. 
Soon  after  King  James  the  First  came  to  the  crown,  he  created 
the  new  dignity  of  baronets  for  money.  Amongst  their  other 
prerogatives  of  honour,  they  had  an  addition  to  their  paternal 
arms,  of  a  hand  gules  in  an  escutcheon  argent.  And  we  are 
riot  to  doubt  but  that  this  was  the  new  heraldry  alluded  to  by  our 
author:  by  which  he  insinuates,  that  some  then  created  had 
hands  indeed,  but  not  hearts;  that  is,  money  to  pay  for  the 
creation,  but  no  virtue  to  purchase  the  honour.  But  the  finest 
part  of  the  poet's  address  in  this  allusion,  is  the  compliment  he 
pays  to  his  old  mistress  Elizabeth.  For  James's  pretence  for 
raising  money  by  this  creation,  was  the  reduction  of  Ulster,  and 
other  parts  of  Ireland ;  the  memory  of  which  he  would  perpe- 
tuate by  that  addition  to  their  arms,  it  being  the  arms  of  Ulster.- 
Now  the  method  used  by  Elizabeth  in  the  reduction  of  that 
kingdom  was  so  different  from  this,  the  dignities  she  conferred 
being  on  those  who  employed  their  steel,  and  not  their  gold,  in 
this  service,  that  nothing  could  add  more  to  her  glory,  than  the 
being  compared  to  her  successor  in  this  point  of  view :  nor  was 
it  uncommon  for  the  dramatick  poets  of  that  time  to  satirize  the 
ignominy  of  James's  reign.  So,  Fletcher,  in  The  Fair  Maid  of 
the  Inn.  One  says,  /  ivill  send  thee  to  Amboyna  in  the  East 
Indies  for  pepper.  The  other  replies,  To  Amboyna  ?  so  I  might 
be  pepper*  a.  Again,  in  the  same  play,  a  Sailor  says,  Despise 
not  this  pitch'd  canvas,  the  time  was,  we  have  known  them  lined 
with  Spanish  ducats.  WARBURTON. 

The  historical  observation  is  very  judicious  and  acute,  but  of 
the  emendation  there  is  no  need.  She  says,  that  her  hand  gave 
away  her  heart.  He  goes  on  with  his  suspicion,  and  the  hand 
which  he  had  before  called  frank,  he  now  terms  liberal;  then 
proceeds  to  remark,  that  the  hand  was  formerly  given  by  the 
heart ;  but  now  it  neither  gives  it,  nor  is  given  by  it. 

JOHNSON. 

I  think,  with  Dr.  Warburton,  that  the  new  order  of  baronets 
is  here  again  alluded  to.  See  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor, 
Vol.  V.  p.  63,  and  Spelman's  Epigram  there  cited : 


416  OTHELLO,  ACT  in, 

OTH.  What  promise,  chuck  ? 

DES.  I  have  sent  to  bid  Cassio  come  speak  with 
you. 


•  florentis  nomen  honoris 


"  Indicat  in  clypei  fronte  cruenta  manus. 
"  Non  quod  saevi  aliquid,  aut  stricto  fortiter  ense 

"  Hostibus  occisis  gesserit  iste  cohors."  BLACKSTONE. 

The  reader  will  not  find  the  Epigram  alluded  to  by  Sir  William 
Blackstone,  in  the  page  to  which  he  has  referred  [in  my  edition], 
for  I  have  omitted  that  part  of  his  note,  (an  omission  of  which  I 
have  there  given  notice,)  because  it  appeared  to  me  extremely 
improbable  that  any  passage  in  that  play  should  allude  to  an  event 
that  did  not  take  place  till  1611.  The  omitted  words  I  add  here, 
(  distinguishing  them  by  Italick  characters, )  as  they  may  appear 
to  add  weight  to  his  opinion  and  that  of  Dr.  Warburton. 

"  /  suspect  this  is  an  oblique  reflection  on  the  prodigality  of 
James  the  First  in  bestowing  these  honours,  and  erecting  a  new 
order  of  knighthood  called  baronets;  which  Jew  of  the  ancient 
gentry  would  condescend  to  accept.  See  Sir  Henry  Spelmans 
epigram  on  them,  GLOSS. p.  76,  which  ends  thus: 

"  dum  cauponare  recusant 

"  Ex  vera  geniti  nobilitate  virij 
"  Interea  e  caulis  hie  prorepit,  ille  tabernis, 

"  Et  modo  Jit  dominus,  qui  modo  servus  crat. 
See  another  stroke  at  them  in  Othello."     MALONE. 

My  respect  for  the  sentiments  of  Sir  William  Blackstone  might 
have  induced  me  to  print  both  them,  and  the  epigram  referred  to, 
in  both  places,  even  if  the  preceding-  remark  of  Mr.  Malone  had 
not,  in  this  second  instance,  afforded  them  an  apt  introduction. 

STEEVENS. 

our  new  heraldry  &>c.~\  I  believe  this  to  be  only  a  figu- 
rative expression,  without  the  least  reference  to  King  James's 
creation  of  baronets.  The  absurdity  of  making  Othello  so  fami- 
liar with  British  heraldry,  the  utter  want  of  consistency  as  well 
as  policy  in  any  sneer  of  Shakspeare  at  the  badge  of  honours  in- 
stituted by  a  Prince  whom  on  all  other  occasions  he  was  solicitous 
to  flatter,  and  at  whose  court  this  very  piece  was  acted  in  1613, 
most  strongly  incline  me  to  question  the  propriety  of  Dr.  War- 
burton's  historical  explanation.  STEEVENS. 

To  almost  every  sentence  of  Dr.  Warburton's  note,  an  objec- 
tion may  be  taken ;  but  I  have  preserved  it  as  a  specimen  of  this 
commentator's  manner. 


sc.  iv.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          417 
OTH.  I  have  a  salt  and  sullen  rheum9  offends  me; 

It  is  not  true  that  King  James  created  the  order  of  baronets 
soon  after  he  came  to  the  throne.  It  was  created  in  the  year 
1611. — The  conceit  that  by  the  word  hearts  the  poet  meant  to 
allude  to  the  gallantry  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  in  which  men 
distinguished  themselves  by  their  steel,  and  that  by  hands  those 
courtiers  were  pointed  at,  who  served  her  inglorious  successor 
only  by  their  gold,  is  too  fanciful  to  deserve  an  answer. 
.  Thus  Dr.  Warburton's  note  stood  as  it  appeared  originally  in 
Theobald's  edition ;  but  in  his  own,  by  way  of  confirmation  of 
his  notion,  we  are  told,  that  "  it  was  not  uncommon  for  the  sa- 
tirical poets  of  that  time  to  satirise  theignominy  of  James's  reign;" 
and  for  this  assertion  we  are  referred  to  Fletcher's  Fair  Maid  of 
the  Lm.  But,  unluckily,  it  appears  from  the  office-book  of  Sir 
Henry  Herbert,  a  MS.  of  which  an  account  is  given  in  Vol.  III. 
that  Fletcher's  plays  were  generally  performed  at  court  soon 
after  they  were  first  exhibited  at  the  theatre,  and  we  may  be  as- 
sured that  he  would  not  venture  to  offend  his  courtly  auditors. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  the  Inn,  indeed,  never  was  performed  before 
King  James,  being  the  last  play  but  one  that  Fletcher  wrote, 
and  not  produced  till  the  22d  of  Jan.  1625-6,  after  the  death 
both  of  its  author  and  King  James;  but  when  it  was  written,  he 
must,  from  the  circumstances  already  mentioned,  have  had  the 
court  before  his  eyes. 

In  various  parts  of  our  poet's  works  he  has  alluded  to  the  cus- 
tom of  plighting  troth  by  the  union  of  hands. 
So,  in  Hamlet : 

"  Since  love  our  hearts,  and  Hymen  did  our  hands 
"  Unite  co-mutual  in  most  sacred  bands." 
Again,  in  The  Tempest,  which  was  probably  written  at  no 
great  distance  of  time  from  the  play  before  us: 
"  Mir.  My  husband  then? 
"  Fer.  Ay,  with  a  heart  as  willing 
"  As  bondage  e'er  of  freedom.     Here's  my  hand. 
"  Mir.  And  mine,  with  my  heart  in't." 

The  hearts  of  old,  sa)rs  Othello,  dictated  the  union  of  hands, 
which  formerly  were  joined  with  the  hearts  of  the  parties  in  them; 
but  in  our  modern  marriages,  hands  alone  are  united,  without 
hearts.  Such  evidently  is  the  plain  meaning  of  the  words.  I  do 
not,  however,  undertake  to  maintain  that  the  poet,  when  he  used 
the  word  heraldry,  had  not  the  new  order  of  baronets  in  his 
thoughts,  without  intending  any  satirical  allusion.  MALONE. 

' salt  and  sullen  rheum — ]   Thus  the  quarto,  1622.  The 

folio,  for  sullen,  has  sorry.     MALONE. 

VOL.   XIX.  2  E 


418  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 

Lend  me  thy  handkerchief. 
DBS.  Here,  my  lord. 

OTH.  That  which  I  gave  you. 
DES.  I  have  it  not  about  me. 

OTH.  Not? 
DES.  No,  indeed,  my  lord. 

OTH.  That  is  a  fault : 

That  handkerchief 
Did  an  Egyptian  to  my  mother  give;1 

Sullen,  that  is,  a  rheum  obstinately  troublesome.  I  think  this 
better.  JOHNSON. 

1  That  handkerchief 

Did  an  Egyptian  to  my  mother  give ;]  In  the  account  of 
this  tremendous  handkerchief,  are  some  particulars,  which  lead 
me  to  think  that  here  is  an  allusion  to  a  fact,  heightened  by  po- 
etical imagery.  It  is  the  practice  in  the  eastern  regions,  for 
persons  of  both  sexes  to  carry  handkerchiefs  very  curiously 
wrought.  In  the  MS.  papers  of  Sir  John  Chardin,  that  great 
oriental  traveller,  is  a  passage  which  fully  describes  the  custom : 
"  The  mode  of  wrought  handkerchiefs  (says  this  learned  enqui- 
rer,) is  general  in  Arabia,  in  Syria,  in  Palestine,  and  generally 
in  all  the  Turkish  empire.  They  are  wrought  with  a  needle,  and 
it  is  the  amusement  of  the  fair  sex  there,  as  among  us  the 
making  tapestry  and  lace.  The  young  women  make  them  for  their 
lathers,  their  brothers,  and  by  way  of  preparation  before  hand 
for  their  spouses,  bestowing  them  as  favours  on  their  lovers. 
They  have  them  almost  constantly  in  their  hands  in  those  warm 
countries,  to  wipe  off  sweat."  But  whether  this  circumstance 
ever  came  to  Shakspeare's  knowledge,  and  gave  rise  to  the  in- 
cident, I  am  not  able  to  determine.  WHALLEY. 

Shakspeare  found  in  Cinthio's  novel  the  incident  of  Desde- 
mona's  losing  a  handkerchief  finely  wrought  in  Morisco  work, 
which  had  been  presented  to  her  by  her  husband,  or  rather  of  its 
being  stolen  from  her  by  the  villain  who  afterwards  by  his  ma- 
chinations robbed  her  of  her  life.  The  eastern  custom  of  brides 
presenting  such  gifts  to  their  husbands,  certainly  did  not  give 
rise  to  the  incident  on  which  this  tragedy  turns,  though  Shak- 
speare should  seem  to  have  been  apprized  of  it.  However,  the 
preceding  note  is  retained  as  illustrative  of  the  passage  before 
us.  MALONE. 


sc.  iv.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         419 

She  was  a  charmer,2  and  could  almost  read 

The  thoughts  of  people :  she  told  her,  while  she 

kept  it, 

'Twould  make  her  amiable,  and  subdue  my  father 
Entirely  to  her  love ;  but  if  she  lost  it, 
Or  made  a  gift  of  it,  my  father's  eye 
Should  hold  her  loathly,  and  his  spirits  should  hunt 
After  new  fancies :  She,  dying,  gave  it  me  ; 
And  bid  me,  when  my  fate  would  have  me  wive, 
To  give  it  her.     I  did  so :  and  take  heed  oft, 
Make  it  a  darling  like  your  precious  eye  ; 
To  lose  or  give't  away,3  were  such  perdition, 
As  nothing  else  could  match. 

DES.  Is  it  possible  ? 

OTH.  'Tis  true  :  there's  magick  in  the  web  of  it: 
A  sibyl,4  that  had  number'd  in  the  world 


*  She  "vans  a  charmer,]  In  Deut.  xviii.  11,  there  is  an  injunc- 
tion :  "  Let  none  be  found  among  you  that  is  a  charmer."  In 
Perkins's  Discourse  of  the  damned  Art  of  Witchcraft,  8vo. 
1610,  it  is  said  that "  Inchantment  is  the  working  of  wonders  by 
a  charme;"  and  a  charm  is  afterwards  defined,  "a  spell  or  verse, 
consisting  of  strange  words,  used  as  a  signe  or  watchword  to 
the  Devil  to  cause  him  to  worke  wonders."  In  this  Discourse 
is  an  enumeration  of  the  wonders  done  by  inchanters,  as  raising 
storms  and  tempests,  &c.  and  at  the  conclusion  it  is  said :  "  — by 
witches  we  understand  not  those  only  which  kill  and  torment, 
but  all  diviners,  charmers,  jugglers,  all  wizzards,  commonly  called 
wise  men  and  wise  women;  yea,  whosoever  do  any  thing 
(knowing  what  they  do)  which  cannot  be  effected  by  nature  or 
art."  REED. 

3  To  lose  or  give' t  aivay,~\    Thus  the  quarto,  1622.     The  fo- 
lio— To  lose'*  &c.     STEEVENS. 

4  A  sibyl,  &c.]  This  circumstance  perhaps  is  imitated  by  Ben 
Jonson  in  The  Sad  Shepherd: 


"  A  Gypsan  lady,  and  a  right  beldame, 
"  Wrought  it  by  moonshine  for  me,  and 


star-light,"  &c. 
STEEVENS. 


2  E  2 


420  OTHELLO,  ACT  in. 

The  sun  to  make5  two  hundred  compasses, 

In  her  prophetick  fury  sew'd  the  work : 

The  worms  were  hallow'd,  that  did  breed  the  silk; 

And  it  was  died  in  mummy,6  which  the  skilful 

Conserv'd  of  maidens'  hearts.7 

5  -~- number  d 

The. sun  to  make  #c.]     Thus  the  quarto,  1622.     The  folio 
— to  course.     STEEVENS. 

That  ^,  numbered  the  sun's  courses:  badly  expressed. 

WARBURTON. 

The  expression  is  not  very  infrequent:  we  say,  /  counted  the 
clock  to  strike  four ;  so  she  numbered  the  sun  to  course,  to  run 
two  hundred  compasses,  two  hundred  annual  circuits. 

JOHNSON. 

I  have  preferred  the  original  reading,  because  we  have  in 
Hamlet  : 

"  When  yon  same  star,  that's  eastward  from  the  pole, 
"  Had  made  his  course,  to  illume  that  part  of  heaven." 

MALONE. 

6  And  it  tons  died  in  mummy,  #c.]     The  balsamick  liquor 
running  from  mummies,  was  formerly  celebrated  for  its  anti-epi- 
leptick  virtues.     We  are  now  wise  enough  to  know,  that  the 
qualities  ascribed  to  it  are  all  imaginary ;  and  yet  this  fanciful 
medicine  still  holds  a  place  in  the  principal  shops  where  drugs 
are  sold.     So,  in  The  Bird  in  a  Cage,  by  Shirley,  1633: 

*' make  mummy  of  my  flesh,  and  sell  me  to  the 

apothecaries." 
Again,  in  The  Honest  Latvyer,  1616: 

"  That  I  might  tear  their  flesh  in  mammocks,  raise 
"  My  losses,  from  their  carcases  turn'd  mummy." 
Mummy,  however,  is  still  much  coveted  by  painters,  as  a 
transparent  brown  colour  that  throws  a  warmth  into  their  sha- 
dows.    STEEVENS. 

7 which  the  skilful 

Conserv'd  of  maidens' hearts."]   Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto 
reads  : 

with  the  skilful 

Conserves,  &c. 

So,  in  the  Microcosmos  of  John  Davies  of  Hereford,  4to. 
1605: 

" Mummy  made  of  the  mere  hart  of  love." 

STEEVENS. 


SC.IF.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          421 

DES.  Indeed !  is't  true  ? 

OTH.  Most  veritable ;  therefore  look  to't  well. 

DES.  Then  'would  to  heaven,  that  I  had  never 
seen  it. 

OTH.  Ha  !  wherefore  ? 

DES.  Why  do  you  speak  so  startingly  and  rash  ?8 

OTH.  Is't  lost  ?  is't  gone  ?  speak,  is  it  out  of  the 
way  ? 

DES.  Heaven  bless  us  i 

OTH.  Say  you  ? 

DES.  It  is  not  lost  j  But  what  an  if  it  were  ? 

OTH.  Ha! 

DES.  I  say,  it  is  not  lost. 

OTH.  Fetch't,  let  me  see  it. 

DES.  Why,  so  I  can,  sir,  but  I  will  not  now ; 
This  is  a  trick,  to  put  me  from  my  suit ; 
I  pray,  let  Cassio  be  received  again. 

OTH.  Fetch  me  that  handkerchief:  my  mind 
misgives. 

DES.  Come,  come ; 
You'll  never  meet  a  more  sufficient  man, 

OTH.  The  handkerchief, 

DES.                           I  pray,  talk  me  of  Cassio.9 
OTH.  The  handkerchief, 

DES.                              A  man  that,  all  his  time, 
Hath  founded  his  good  fortune  on  your  love ; 
Shar'd  dangers  with  you ; 


8 rysh?~]   is  vehement,  violent.     JOHNSON. 

9  I  pray,  talk  me  of  Cassio. ,]  This  and  the  following  short 
speech,  are  omitted  in  all  the  ancient  editions  but  the  first 
quarto.  STEEVENS. 


422  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

OTH.  The  handkerchief, 

DES.  In  sooth, 
You  are  to  blame. 

OTH.  Away !  [Exit  OTHELLO. 

EMIL.  Is  not  this  man  jealous  ? 

DES.  I  ne'er  saw  this  before. 
Sure,  there's  some  wonder  in  this  handkerchief: 
I  am  most  unhappy  in  the  loss  of  it. 

EMIL.  'Tis  not  a  year  or  two  shows  us  a  man:1 
They  are  all  but  stomachs,  and  we  all  but  food ; 
They  eat  us  hungerly,  and  when  they  are  full, 
They  belch  us.  Look  you!  Cassio,  and  my  husband. 

1  'Tis  not  a  year  or  two  shoixs  us  a  man  „•]  From  this  line  it 
may  be  conjectured,  that  the  author  intended  the  action  of  this 
play  to  be  considered  as  longer  than  is  marked  by  any  note  of 
time.  Since  their  arrival  at  Cyprus,  to  which  they  were  hur- 
ried on  their  wedding-night,  the  fable  seems  to  have  been  in  one 
continual  progress,  nor  can  I  see  any  vacuity  in  which  a  year 
or  two,  or  even  a  month  or  two,  could  be  put.  On  the  night  of 
Othello's  arrival,  a  feast  was  proclaimed ;  at  that  feast  Cassio 
was  degraded,  and  immediately  applies  to  Desdemona  to  get  him 
restored.  lago,  indeed,  advises  Othello  to  hold  him  off  a  while, 
but  there  is  no  reason  to  think,  that  he  has  been  held  off  long. 
A  little  longer  interval  would  increase  the  probability  of  the 
story,  though  it  might  violate  the  rules  of  the  drama.  See 
Act  V.  sc.  ii.  JOHNSON. 

This  line  has  no  reference  to  the  duration  of  the  action  of  this 
play,  or  to  the  length  of  time  that  Desdemona  had  been  mar- 
ried. What  Emilia  says,  is  a  sort  of  proverbial  remark,  of  ge- 
neral application,  where  a  definite  time  is  put  for  an  indefinite. 
Besides,  there  is  no  necessity  for  fixing  the  commencement  of 
Emilia's  year  or  two,  to  the  time  of  the  marriage  or  the  opening 
of  the  piece.  She  would  with  more  propriety  refer  to  the  be- 
ginning of  the  acquaintance  and  intimacy  between  the  married 
couple,  which  might  extend  beyond  that  period.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  iv.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          423 


Enter  IAGO  and  CASSIO. 

I  AGO.  There  is  no  other  way;  'tis  she  must  do't; 
And,  lo,  the  happiness  !  go,  and  importune  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  duty  of  my  heart,2 
Entirely  honour;  I  would  not  be  delay'd: 
If  my  offence  be  of  such  mortal  kind, 
That  neither  service  past,  nor  present  sorrows, 
Nor  purpos'd  merit  in  futurity, 
Can  ransome  me  into  his  love  again, 


the  duty  of  my  heart,~]     The  elder  quarto  reads: 
•  the  duty  of  my  heart, - 


The  author  used  the  more  proper  word,  and  then  changed  it,  I 
suppose,  for  fashionable  diction  ;  ["  \he  office  of  my  heart,"  the 
reading  of  the  folio;]  but,  as  fashion  is  a  very  weak  protectress, 
the  old  word  is  now  ready  to  resume  its  place.  JOHNSON. 

A  careful  comparison  of  the  quartos  and  folio  incline  me  to 
believe  that  many  of  the  variations  which  are  found  in  the  later 
copy,  did  not  come  from  the  pen  of  Shakspeare.  See  Vol.  XVIII. 
p.  335,  n.  3.  That  duty  was  the  word  intended  here,  is  highly 
probable  from  other  passages  in  his  works.  So,  in  his  26th  Son- 
net: 

"  Lord  of  my  love,  to  whom  in  vassalage 
"  Thy  merit  has  my  duty  strongly  knit." 

Again,  in  his  Dedication  of  Lucrece,  to  Lord  Southampton : 
"  Were  my  worth  greater,  my  duty  would  shew  greater ;  mean 
time,  as  it  is,  it  is  bound  to  your  lordship."  MALONE. 

Office  may  be  the  true  reading.  So,  in  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra : 

" his  goodly  eyes — now  turn 

"  The  office  and  devotion  of  their  view,"  &c. 

STEEVENS. 


424  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

But  to  know  so  must  be  my  benefit  ;3 
So  shall  I  clothe  me  in  a  forc'd  content, 
And  shut  myself  up  in  some  other  course, 
To  fortune's  alms.4 

3  But  to  know  so  must  Ic  my  benefit ;] 

"  Si  nequeo  placidas  affari  Caesaris  aures, 

"  Saltern  aliquis  veniat,  qui  niihi  dicat,  abi."     JOHNSON. 

*  And  shut  myself  up  in  some  other  course, 

To  fortune  s  alms."]      Shoot  is  the  reading  of  one  of  the  early 
quartos.     The  folio,  and  all  the  modern  editions,  have — 
And  shut  myself  up — — .     JOHNSON. 

I  cannot  help  thinking  this  reading  to  be  the  true  one.  The 
idea  seems  taken  from  the  confinement  of  a  monastick  life.  The 
words,  forced  content,  help  to  confirm  the  supposition.  The 
meaning  will  therefore  be,  "  I  will  put  on  a  constrained  appear- 
ance of  being  contented,  and  shut  myself  up  in  a  different  course 
of  life,  no  longer  to  depend  on  my  own  efforts,  but  to  wait  for 
relief  from  the  accidental  hand  of  charity." 

Shakspeare  uses  the  same  expression  in  Macbeth ; 

" and  shut  up 

"  In  measureless  content." 
Again,  in  All's  well  that  ends  well: 

"  Whose  basest  stars  do  shut  us  up  in  wishes." 

STEEVENS. 

The  quarto,   1622,   reads — And  shoot  myself  &c.     I  think, 
with  Mr.  Steevens,  that  it  was  a  corruption,  and  that  the  read- 
ing of  the  folio  is  the  true  one. 
Hanmer  reads: 

And  shoot  myself  upon  some  other  course, 
To  fortune's  alms. 

To  fortune  s  alms  means,  waiting  patiently  for  whatever 
bounty  fortune  or  chance  may  bestow  upon  me. 

We  have  the  same  uncommon  phrase  in  King  Lear  : 

"  . Let  your  study 

"  Be  to  content  your  lord,  who  hath  receiv'd  you 
"  At  fortune's  alms"     MALONE. 

I  cannot  agree  with  Steevens  in  approving  of  the  present 
reading,  nor  of  course,  in  his  explanation  of  this  passage,  but 
think  the  quarto  right,  which  reads  shoot  instead  of  shut. — To 
say  that  a  man  will  shut  himself  up  in  a  course  of  life,  is  lan- 
guage such  as  Shakspeare  would  never  make  use  of,  even  in  his 
most  whimsical  or  licentious  moments. 


sc.  iv.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         425 

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,5  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,6 
For  my  free  speech !  You  must  a  while  be  patient : 
What  I  can  do,  I  will ;  and  more  I  will, 
Than  for  myself  I  dare :  let  that  suffice  you. 

I  AGO.  Is  my  lord  angry  ? 

EMIL.  He  went  hence  but  now, 

And,  certainly,  in  strange  unquietness. 

I  AGO.  Can  he  be  angry  ?  I  have  seen  the  cannon, 
When  it  hath  blown  his  ranks  into  the  air  j7 


One  of  the  meanings  of  the  verb  to  shoot,  is  to  push  suddenly, 
or  to  push  forward;  and  in  that  sense  it  is  used  in  this  place. 
Cassio  means  to  say,  that  if  he  finds  he  has  no  chance  of  regain- 
ing the  favour  of  the  general,  he  will  push  forward  into  some 
other  line  of  life,  and  seek  his  fortune ;  but  I  think  it  probable 
we  ought  to  read : 

And  shoot  myself  upon  some  other  course, 
instead  of  up  in  some  other  course.     M.  MASON. 

Mr.  M.  Mason's  explanation  is  a  very  forced  one. — It  appears 
from  the  information  of  lago,  that  Cassio  had  not  long  been  a 
soldier.  Before  Othello  promoted  him,  for  his  good  offices  in  re- 
spect to  Desdemona,  he  was  "  a  great  arithmetician,,  a  counter- 
caster;"  and  now,  being  discarded  from  the  military  line,  he 
purposes  to  confine  or  shut  himself  up,  as  he  formerly  had,  with- 
in the  limits  of  a  new  profession.  HENLEY. 

5 in  favour,]   In  look,  in  countenance.     JOHNSON. 

See  p.  295,  n.  2.     STEEVENS. 

6 ixiihin  the  blank  of  his  displeasure,']     Within  the  shot 

of  his  anger.     JOHNSON. 

See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  262,  n.  9.     STEEVENS. 

7 /  have  seen  the  cannon, 

When  it  hath  bloivn  &c.]     In  lago's  speech  something  is 


426  OTHELLO,  ACT  in. 

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.  —  Something,  sure,  of 
state,  —  \_Exit  IAGO. 

Either  from  Venice  ;  or  some  unhatch'd  practice,8 
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  ev'n  to  that  sense 
Of  pain  :  9  Nay,  we  must  think,  men  are  not  gods  j 

suppressed.  He  means  to  say,  I  have  seen  his  ranks  blown  into 
the  air,  and  his  own  brother  puff'd  from  his  side,  —  and  mean 
"while  have  seen  him  cool  and  unruffled.  And  can  he  now  be 
angry  ?  MALONE. 

some  unhatch'd  practice,']      Some  treason  that  has  not 


taken  effect.    JOHNSON. 

9  For  let  our  finger  ache,  and  it  indues 
Our  other  healthful  members  ev'n  to  that  sense 
Of  pain  :~]  I  believe  it  should  be  rather,  Subdues  our  other 
liealthful  members  to  a  sense  of  pain.     JOHNSON. 

Dr.  Johnson's  conjecture  may  be  supported  by  a  passage  in 
one  of  Desdemona's  speeches  to  the  Senate  : 

"  My  heart's  subdued 

"  Even  to  the  very  quality  of  my  lord." 
Again,  in  p.  419: 

"  -  and  subdue  my  father 

"  Entirely  to  her  love."     STEEVENS. 

To  indue  appears  to  have  signified  in  Shakspcare's  time,  to 
tincture,  to  embrue,  and  is  so  used  here.  See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  317, 
n.  3. 

The  words  —  'Tis  even  so,  relate  to  what  Desdemona  has  jusl 
conjectured.  "  This  is  certainly  the  case;  some  state  affair  has 
disturbed  him."  MALONE. 

How  a  member  is  to  be  tinctured  or  embretved  to  any  particular 
sensation,  I  am  glad  it  is  not  my  office  to  explain.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  iv.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         427 

Nor  of  them  look  for  such  observances 
As  fit  the  bridal.1 — Beshrew  me  much,  Emilia, 
I  was  (unhandsome  warrior  as  I  am,2) 
Arraigning  his  unkindness  with  my  soul ; 
But  now  I  find,  I  had  suborn'd  the  witness, 
And  he's  indited  falsely. 

EMIL.  Pray  heaven,  it  be  state  matters,  as  you 

think ; 

And  no  conception,  nor  no  jealous  toy, 
Concerning  you. 

DES.  Alas,  the  day !  I  never  gave  him  cause. 

EMIL.  But  jealous  souls  will  not  be  answer'd  so  j 
They  are  not  ever  jealous  for  the  cause, 
But  jealous  for  they  are  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  here- 
about : 

If  I  do  find  him  fit,  I'll  move  your  suit, 
And  seek  to  effect  it  to  my  uttermost. 

CAS.  I  humbly  thank  your  ladyship. 

[Exeunt  DESDEMONA  and  EMILIA. 


1 the  bridal.]     i.  e.  the  nuptial  feast ;   a  Saxon  word. 

Thus,  in  the  ancient  romance  of  Ytvain  and  Gatvain: 

"  The  bridal  sat,  for  soth  to  tell 

"  Till  king  Arthur  come"  &c. 
Again,  in  Gamelyn,  or  the  Cokes  Tale: 

"  At  every  bridale  he  would  sing  and  hop."  STEEVENS. 

* ( unhandsome  warrior  as  /  am, )  ~]    Unhandsome  warrior, 

is  evidently  unfair  assailant.     JOHNSON. 

See  note  on  the  same  expression,  Act  II.  sc.  i.     STEEVENS. 


428  OTHELLO,  ACT  m. 


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. 

BIAN.  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  with  leaden  thoughts  been  press'd  j 
But  I  shall,  in  a  more  continuate  time,3 

Strike  off  this  score  of  absence.     Sweet  Bianca, 

\_Giving  her  DESDEMONA'S  Handkerchief* 
Take  me  this  work  out.4 


3 in  a  more  continuate  time,']  Thus  the  folio.  The 

quarto,  1622,  has — a  more  convenient  time.  MALONE. 

A  more  continuate  time  is  time  less  interrupted,  time  which 
I  can  call  more  my  own.  It  gives  a  more  distinct  image 
than  convenient.  JOHNSON. 

The  word  occurs  again  in  Timon  of  Athens,  sc.  i ; 

" breath'd,  as  it  were, 

"  To  an  untirable  and  continuate  goodness." 
See  p.  6.  n.  5.     STEEVENS. 

4  Take  me  this  work  out.'}  The  meaning  is  not,  "  Pick  out  the 
work,  and  leave  the  ground  plain ;"  but,  "  Copy  this  work  in 
another  handkerchief."  JOHNSON. 

So,  in  a  comedy,  by  Middleton,  called,  Women  beware  of 
Women : 

" she  intends 

"  To  take  out  other  works  in  a  new  sampler." 
Again,  in  the  preface  to  P.  Holland's  Pliny,  1601 :  "  Nicophanes 
(a  famous  painter)  gave  his  mind  wholly  to  antique  pictures, 
partly  to  exemplifie  and  take  out  their  patterns,  after  that  in  long 


sc.  iv.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          429 

BIAN.  O,  Cassio,  whence  came  this  ? 

This  is  some  token  from  a  newer  friend. 
To  the  felt  absence  now  I  feel  a  cause : 
Is  it  come  to  this  ?  Well,  well. 

CAS.  Woman,  go  to  !5 

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  remem- 
brance : 
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 !  wrherefore  ? 

CAS.  I  do  attend  here  on  the  general ; 
And  think  it  no  addition,  nor  my  wish, 
To  have  him  see  me  woman'd. 

BIAN.  Why,  I  pray  you  ?6 

CAS.  Not  that  I  love  you  not. 

BIAN.  But  that  you  do  not  love  me. 


continuance  of  time  they  were  decaied."  Again,  in  Sidney's 
Arcadia,  Book  II :  "  — why  doest  thou  in  thy  beautiful  sampler 
set  such  a  work  for  my  desire  to  take  out?"  STEEVENS. 

So,  in  Hearne's  Liber  Niger  Scaccarii,  Vol.  II.  p.  578,  581, 
and  585 :  "  to  take  out  the  arms,"  means,  to  copy  them. 

TOLLET. 

5  Woman,  go  to!']     Old  copies,  unmetrically — 

Goto,  woman!     STEEVENS. 

6  Why,  I  pray  you  ?]     This  and  the  following  speech  are 
wanting  in  the  first  quarto.     STEEVFNS. 


430  OTHELLO,  ACT  IT. 

I  pray  you,  bring  me  on  the  way  a  little ; 
And  say,  if  I  shall  see  you  soon  at  night. 

CAS.  'Tis  but  a  little  way,  that  I  can  bring  you, 
For  I  attend  here  :  but  Til  see  you  soon. 

BIAN.    *Tis  very  good ;    I   must  be   circum- 
stanc'd.7  \_Exeunt. 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  1. 

The  same. 

Enter  OTHELLO  and  IAGO. 

I  AGO.  Will  you  think  so  ? 

OTH.  Think  so,  lago  ? 

IAGO.  What, 

To  kiss  in  private  ? 

OTH.  An  unauthoriz'd  kiss. 

IAGO.  Or  to  be  naked  with  her  friend  abed, 
An  hour,  or  more,  not  meaning  any  harm  ? 

OTH.  Naked  abed,  lago,  and  not  mean  harm  ? 
It  is  hypocrisy  against  the  devil : 8 

7 /  must  be  circumstancd.']  i.  e.  your  civility  is  now 

grown  conditional.  WARBURTON. 

Rather,  I  must  give  way  to  circumstances.     M.  MASON. 

Particular  circumstances  and  your  own  convenience  have,  I 
see,  more  weight  with  you  than  Bianca  has.  I  must  be  post- 
poned to  these  considerations.  MA  LONE. 

8  Naked  abed,  lago,  and  not  mean  harm? 
It  is  hypocrisy  against  the  devil:']     This  observation  seems 


sc.  /.         THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         431 

They  that  mean  virtuously,  and  yet  do  so, 
The  devil  their  virtue  tempts,    and  they  tempt 
heaven.9 


strangely  abrupt  and  unoccasioned.  We  must  suppose  that  lago 
had,  before  they  appeared  in  this  scene,  been  applying  cases 
of  false  comfort  to  Othello ;  as  that  though  the  parties  had  been 
even  found  in  bed  together,  there  might  be  no  harm  done ;  it 
might  be  only  for  the  trial  of  their  virtue ;  as  was  reported  of 
the  Romish  saint,  Robert  D' Arbrissel  and  his  nuns :  To  this  we 
must  suppose  Othello  here  replies ;  and  like  a  good  protestant. 
For  so  the  sentiment  does  but  suit  the  character  of  the  speaker, 
Shakspeare  little  heeds  how  these  sentiments  are  circum- 
stanced. WARBURTON. 

Hypocrisy  against  the  devil,  means  hypocrisy  to  cheat  the 
devil.  As  common  hypocrites  cheat  men,  by  seeming  good, 
and  yet  living  wickedly,  these  men  would  cheat  the  devil,  by 
giving  him  flattering  hopes,  and  at  last  avoiding  the  crime  which 
he  thinks  them  ready  to  commit.  JOHNSON. 

9  The  devil  their  virtue  tempts,  and  they  tempt  heaven.^  The 
true  key  to  the  explanation  of  this  passage  may  be  found  in  St. 
Maltheiv,  iv.  7.  The  poet's  idea  is,  that  the  devil  tempts  their 
virtues,  by  stirring  up  their  passions,  and  they  tempt  heaven,  by 
placing  themselves  in  such  a  situation  as  makes  it  scarcely 
possible  to  avoid  fulling  by  the  gratification  of  them.  HENLEY. 

As  the  devil  makes  a  trial  of  their  virtue  by  often  throwing 
temptation  in  their  way,  so  they  presumptuously  make  a  trial 
whether  the  divine  goodness  will  enable  them  to  resist  a  tempta- 
tion which  they  have  voluntarily  created  for  themselves,  or  aban- 
don them  to  the  government  of  their  passions.  MALONE. 

Shakspeare  had  probably  in  view  a  very  popular  book  of  his 
time,  The  Beehive  of  the  Roman  Church:  "  There  was  an  old 
wife,  called  Julia,  which  would  take  the  young  men  and  maides, 
and  lay  them  together  in  a  bed.  And  for  that  they  should  not 
one  byte  another,  nor  kicke  backewardes  with  their  heeles,  slie 
did  lay  a  crucifix  between  them."  FARMER. 

More  probably  from  Fabian's  Chronicle,  Part  IV.  ch.  Ill': — 
"  Of  hyrn  [Bishop  Adhelme]  it  is  wrytten  that  when  he  was 
styred  by  his  gostly  enemy  to  the  synne  of  the  fleshe,  he  to  do 
the  more  tormente  to  hym  selfe  and  of  his  body,  wolde  holde 
within  his  bedde  by  him  a  fayre  mayden,  by  so  longe  tyme  as  he 
myght,  say  over  the  hole  sauter,  albeit  that  suche  holynes  is  no 


432  OTHELLO, 

IAGO.  So  they  do  nothing,  'tis  a  venial  slip : 

But  if  I  give  my  wife  a  handkerchief, 

OTH.  What  then  ? 

IAGO.  Why,  then  'tis  hers,  my  lord ;  and,  being 

hers, 
She  may,  I  think,  bestow't  on  any  man. 

OTH.  She  is  protectress  of  her  honour  too ; 
May  she  give  that  ? 

IAGO.  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  have  for- 
got it : — 

Thou  said'st, — O,  it  comes  o'er  my  memory, 
As  doth  the  raven  o'er  the  infected  house, 
Boding  to  all,1 — he  had  my  handkerchief. 

artycle  of  saynte  Bennetis  lore,  nor  yet  for  dyverse  inconveny- 
ence  mooste  alowed  by  holye  doctours." 

Again,  and  yet  more  appositely,  in  Bale's  Actes  of  Englysh 
Fotaryes,  1548:  "  This  Adhelmus  never  refused  women,  but 
wold  have  them  commonly  both  at  borde  and  at  bedde,  to  mockc 
the  devyll  ivith,"  &c. — "  he  layed  by  hym  naked  the  fayrost 
mayde  he  coude  get"  &c.     STEEVENS. 
1  As  doth  the  raven  o'er  the  infected  house, 
Boding  to  all,~\     So,  in  King  John: 

" confusion  waits, 

"  As  doth  the  raven  on  a  sick-fallen  beast, — ." 

STEEVENS. 

boding  to  all — ]     Thus  all  the  old  copies.     The  moderns 

less  grammatically — 

Boding  to  ill .     JOHNSON. 

The  raven  was  thought  to  be  a  constant  attendant  on  a  house, 
in  which  there  was  infection.  So,  in  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta, 
1633: 

"  Thus  like  the  sad  presaging  raven,  that  tolls 
"  The  sick  man's  passport  in  her  hollow  beak, 
"  And  in  the  shadow  of  the  silent  night 
"  Does  shake  contagion  from  her  sable  wing." 

MALONE. 


sc.  /.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          433 

IAGO.  Ay,  what  of  that  ? 

OTH.  That's  not  so  good,  now. 

IAGO.  What,  if  I  had  said,  I  had  seen  him  do 

you  wrong  ? 

Or  heard  him  say, — As  knaves  be  such  abroad, 
Who  having,  by  their  own  importunate  suit, 
Or  voluntary  dotage  of  some  mistress, 
Convinced  or  supplied  them,2  cannot  choose 


2  Convinced  or  supplied  them,']  I  cannot  understand  the  vulgar 
reading.  I  read — convinc'd  or  suppled.  My  emendation  makes 
the  sense  of  the  passage  easy  and  intelligible :  that  there  are  some 
such  long-tongued  knaves  in  the  world,  who,  if  they  through 
the  force  of  importunity  extort  a  favour  from  their  mistress,  or 
if  through  her  own  fondness  they  make  her  pliant  to  their  desires, 
cannot  help  boasting  of  their  success.  To  convince,  here,  is  not, 
as  in  the  common  acceptation,  to  make  sensible  of  the  truth  of 
any  thing  by  reasons  and  arguments ;  but  to  overcome,  get  the 
better  of,  &c.  THEOBALD. 

So,  in  Macbeth : 

" his  two  chamberlains 

"  Will  I,  with  wine  and  wassel  so  convince." 
Again,  in  the  same  play  : 

" their  malady  convinces 

"  The  great  assay  of  art." 

Dr.  Farmer  is  of  opinion  that  supplied  has  here  the  same 
meaning  as  supplicated.  STEEVENS. 

Theobald's  emendation  evidently  hurts,  instead  of  improving, 
the  sense;  for  what  is  suppled,  but  convinced,  i.  e.  subdued. 
Supplied  relates  to  the  words — "  voluntary  dotage,"  as  convinced 
does  to  "  their  own  importunate  suit."  Having  by  their  impor- 
tunacy  conquered  the  resistance  of  a  mistress,  or,  in  compliance 
with  her  own  request,  and  in  consequence  of  her  unsolicited 
fondness,  gratified  her  desires.  MALONE. 

Supplied  is  certainly  the  true  reading,  and  with  a  sense  that 
may  be  collected  from  the  following  passage  in  Measure  for 
Measure  : 

"  And  did  supply  thee  at  the  garden-house :" 

Or,  rather,  as  may  be  inferred  from  the  following  sentence  in 
Sir  R.  Cotton's  View  of  the  Raigne  of  Henry  III.  1627  :  "  De- 

VOL.  XIX.  2  F 


434  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

But  they  must  blab  -  - 

OTH.  Hath  he  said  any  thing  ? 

I  AGO.  He  hath,  my  lord;  but  be  you  well  assur'd, 
No  more  than  he'll  unswear. 

OTH.  What  hath  he  said  ? 

IAGO.  'Faith,  that  he  did,  —  I  know  not  what  he 


OTH.  What?  what? 

IAGO.  Lie  - 

OTH.        With  her  ? 

IAGO.  With  her,  on  her  ;  what  you  will. 

OTH.  Lie  with  her  !  lie  on  her  !  —  We  say,  lie  on 
her,  when  they  belie  her  :  Lie  with  her  !  that's 
fulsome.  —  Handkerchief,  —  confessions,  —  hand- 
kerchief. —  To  confess,  and  be  hanged*  for  his 
labour.  —  First,  to  be  hanged,  and  then  to  confess  : 
—  I  tremble  at  it.  Nature  would  not  invest  her- 
self in  such  shadowing  passion,5  without  some  in- 

nials  from  Princes  must  bee  supplied  with  gracious  usage,  that 
though  they  cure  not  the  sore,  yet  they  may  abate  the  sence  of 
it."  P.  12.  Supplied  is  the  old  spelling  of  suppled,  i.  e.  soft- 
ened. STEEVENS. 

3  'Faith,  that  he  did,  —  I  knoiv  not  tuJiat  he  did.~]  I  believe 
that  the  line  should  be  pointed  thus  : 

'Faith,  that  he  did  I  knotv  not  tvhat;  —  he  did. 

M.  MASON. 


*  -  To  confess,  and  be  hanged  —  3     ^'s  ls  a  proverbial 
sayiug.     It  is  used  by  Marlowe,  in  his  Jem  of  Malta,  1633  : 
"  Blame  us  not,  but  the  proverb  —  Confess*  and  be  hang'd." 

It  occurs  again,  in  The  Travels  of  the  Three  English  Brothers, 
1  607  :  And  in  one  of  the  old  collections  of  small  poems  there  is 
an  epigram  on  it.  All  that  remains  of  this  speech,  including  the 
words  to  confess,  is  wanting  in  the  first  quarto.  STEEVENS. 

shadowing  passion,"]  The  modern  editions  have  left  out 


nasnoti.     JOHNSON. 


sc.  I.  .      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          435 
struction.6    It  is  not  words,  that  shake  me  thus : — 

6 without  some  instruction.]  The  starts  and  broken  re- 
flections in  this  speech  have  something  very  terrible,  and  show 
the  mind  of  the  speaker  to  be  in  inexpressible  agonies.  But  the 
words  we  are  upon,  when  set  right,  have  a  sublime  in  them  that 
can  never  be  enough  admired.  The  ridiculous  blunder  of  writing 
instruction  for  induction  (for  so  it  should  be  read)  has  indeed 
sunk  it  into  arrant  nonsense.  Othello  is  just  going  to  fall  into  a 
swoon ;  and  as  is  common  for  people  in  that  circumstance,  feels 
an  unusual  mist  and  darkness,  accompanied  with  horror,  coming 
upon  him.  This,  with  vast  sublimity  of  thought,  is  compared 
to  the  season  of  the  sun's  eclipse,  at  which  time  the  earth  be- 
comes shadowed  by  the  induction  or  bringing  over  of  the  moon 
between  it  and  the  sun.  This  being  the  allusion,  the  reasoning 
stands  thus :  "  My  nature  could  never  be  thus  overshadowed, 
and  falling,  as  it  were,  into  dissolution,  for  no  cause.  There 
must  be  an  induction  of  something :  there  must  be  a  real  cause. 
My  jealousy  cannot  be  merely  imaginary.  Ideas,  ivords  only, 
could  not  shake  me  thus,  and  raise  all  this  disorder.  My  jealousy 
therefore  must  be  grounded  on  matter  of  fact."  Shakspeare  uses 
this  word  in  the  same  sense  in  King  RicJiard  III; 
"  A  dire  induction  am  I  witness  to." 

Marston  seems  to  have  read  it  thus  in  some  copy,  and  to 
allude  to  it  in  these  words  of  his  Fame: 

"  Plots  ha'  you  laid?  inductions  dangerous!" 

WARBURTON. 

This  is  a  noble  conjecture,  and  whether  right  or  wrong  does 
honour  to  its  author.  Yet  I  am  in  doubt  whether  there  is  aay 
necessity  of  emendation.  There  has  always  prevailed  in  the 
world  an  opinion,  that  when  any  great  calamity  happens  at  a 
distance,  notice  is  given  of  it  to  the  sufferer  by  some  dejection 
or  perturbation  of  mind,  of  which  he  discovers^no  external  cause. 
This  is  ascribed  to  that  general  communication  of  one  part  of 
the  universe  with  another,  which  is  called  sympathy  and  anti- 
pathy ;  or  to  the  secret  monition,  instruction^  and  influence  of  a 
Superior  Being,  which  superintends  the  order  of  nature  and  of 
life.  Othello  says,  Nature  coidd  not  invest  herself  in  suck 
shadowing  passion  without  instruction.  It  is  not  ivords  that 
shake  me  thus.  This  passion,  which  spreads  its  clouds  over  me, 
is  the  effect  of  some  agency  more  than  the  operation  of  words; 
it  is  one  of  those  notices,  which  men  have,  of  unseen  calami- 
ties. JOHNSON. 

Nature  could  not  invest  herself  in  such  shadowing  passion 
without  some  instruction.]  However  ingenious  Dr.  Warburton's 

2  F  2 


436  OTHELLO,  ACT  iv. 

Pish ! — Noses,  ears,  and  lips : 7 — Is  it  possible  ? — 
Confess  ! — Handkerchief! — O  devil ! — 

[Falls  in  a  Trance. 

IAGO.  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 ! 

note  may  be,  it  is  certainly  too  forced  and  far-fetched.  Othello 
alludes  only  to  Cassio's  dream,  which  had  been  invented  and 
told  him  by  lago.  When  many  confused  and  very  interesting 
ideas  pour  in  upon  the  mind  all  at  once,  and  with  such  rapidity 
that  it  has  not  time  to  shape  or  digest  them,  if  it  does  not  re- 
lieve itself  by  tears  (which  we  know  it  often  does,  whether  for 
joy  or  grief)  it  produces  stupefaction  and  fainting. 

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  over-powers  it, 
that  he  falls  into  a  trance,  the  natural  consequence. 

SIR  J.  REYNOLDS. 

If  Othello,  by  the  words  shadowing  passion  alludes  to  his  own 
feelings,  and  not  to  Cassio's  dream,  Dr.  Warburton's  interpre- 
tation, if  we  substitute  instruction  for  induction,  (which  was  in- 
troduced merely  to  usher  in  the  image  of  an  eclipse)  is  perhaps 
nearly  correct.  Induction,  in  Shakspeare's  time,  meant  intro- 
duction, or  prelude,  (as  in  the  instance  quoted  from  King  Rich- 
ard III.)  and  at  no  time  signified  bringing  over,  as  Dr.  War- 
burton  interprets  it.  MALONE. 

I  believe,  the  text,  as  it  stands,  is  perfectly  right,  and  that 
Othello's  allusion  is  to  his  present  and  uncommon  sensations. 

STEEVENS. 

7  Noses,  ears,  and  lips :]  Othello  is  imagining  to  himself  the 
familiarities  which  he  supposes  to  have  passed  between  Cassio 
and  his  wife.  So,  in  The  Winter'' s  Tale: 

"  Cheek  to  cheek, — meeting  noses — 
"  Kissing  with  inside  lip,"  &c. 

If  this  be  not  the  meaning,  we  must  suppose  he  is  meditating 
a  cruel  punishment  for  Desdemona  and  her  suspected  paramour : 

" raptis 

"  Auribus,  et  truncas  inhonesto  vulnere  nares." 

STEEVENS. 


ac.  /.          THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.        43? 


Enter  CASSIO. 

My  lord,  I  say !  Othello ! — How  now,  Cassio  ? 
CAS.  What  is  the  matter  ? 

I  AGO.  My  lord  is  fallen  into  an  epilepsy; 
This  is  his  second  fit ;  he  had  one  yesterday. 

CAS.  Rub  him  about  the  temples. 

I  AGO.  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  head  ? 

•    OTH.  Dost  thou  mock  me  ? 

I  AGO.  I  mock  you !  no,  by  heaven : 

'Would,  you  would  bear  your  fortunes  like  a  man. 

OTH.  A  horned  man's  a  monster,  and  a  beast. 

IAGO.  There's  many  a  beast  then  in  a  populous 

city, 
And  many  a  civil  monster. 

OTH.  Did  he  confess  it  ? 

IAGO.  Good  sir,  be  a  man  ; 

Think,  every  bearded  fellow,  that's  but  yok'd, 
May  draw  with  you :  there's  millions  now  alive, 
That  nightly  lie  in  those  unproper  beds,8 

5 in  those  unproper  beds,~]    Unproper,  for  common. 

WARBURTON. 

So,  in  The  Arcadia,  by  Shirley,  1640: 
"  Every  woman  shall  be  common. — 


438  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

Which  they  dare  swear  peculiar;  your  case  isbetter. 
O,  'tis  the  spite  of  hell,  the  fiend's  arch-mock, 
To  lip  a  wanton9  in  a  secure  couch,1 
And  to  suppose  her  chaste  !  No,  let  me  know ; 
And,  knowing  what  I  am,  I  know  what  she  shall 
be.2 

OTH.  O,  thou  art  wise;  'tis  certain. 

1  AGO.  Stand  you  awhile  apart ; 
Confine  yourself  but  in  a  patient  list.3 

"  Every  woman  common !  what  shall  we  do  with  all  the 

proper  women  in  Arcadia  ? 
"  They  shall  be  common  too." 
Again,  in  Gower  De  Confessione  Amantis,  B.  II.  fol: — 

"  And  is  his  proper  by  the  lawe." 

Again,  in  The  Mastive,  &c.  an  ancient  collection  of  Epigrams 
and  Satires,  no  date : 

"  Rose  is  a  fayre,  but  not  a  proper  woman  ; 

"  Can  any  creature  proper  be,  that's  common  ?" 

STEEVENS. 

9  To  lip  a  wanton — ~]  This  phrase  occurs  in  Eastward  Hoe, 
Act  I: 

" lip  her,  lip  her,  knave."     REED. 

1 in  a  secure  couch,"]  In  a  couch  in  which  he  is  lulled 

into  a  false  security  and  confidence  in  his  wife's  virtue.  A 
Latin  sense. 

So,  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor:  "  Though  Page  be  a 
secure  fool,  and  stands  so  firmly  on  his  wife's  frailty,"  &c. 

See  also  Vol.  XV.  p.  409,  n.  8.     MALONE. 

2  And,  knowing  'what  I  am,  I  know  what  she  shall  be.~]      Re- 
dundancy of  metre,  without  improvement  of  sense,  inclines  me 
to.  consider  the  word  she,  in  this  line,  as  an  intruder.     lago  is 
merely  stating  an  imaginary  case  as  his  own.      When  I  know 
what  I  am  (says  he)  /  knmv  what  the  result  of  that  conviction 
shall  be.     To  whom,  indeed,  could  the  pronoun  she,  gramma- 
tically refer?     STEEVENS. 

3 list.^     List,  or  lists,  is  barriers,  bounds.     Keep  your 

temper,  says  lago,  within  the  bounds  of  patience. 
So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  The  ocean  over-peering  of  his  list, 

"  Eats  not  the  flats  with  more  impetuous  haste,"  &c. 

COLLINS, 


sc.  i,        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          439 

Whilst  you  were  here,  ere  while  mad  with  your 

grief,4 

(A  passion  most  unsuiting  such  a  man,) 
Cassio  came  hither :  I  shifted  him  away, 
And  laid  good  'scuse  upon  your  ecstasy ; 
Bade  him  anon  return,  and  here  speak  with  me ; 
The  which  he  promis'd.     Do  but  encave  yourself,5 
And  mark  the  fleers,  the  gibes,  and  notable  scorns, 
That  dwell  in  every  region  of  his  face  ; G 
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  ; 


Again,  in  King  Henry  V.  Act  V.  sc.  ii :  "  — you  and  I  can- 
not be  confined  within  the  weak  list  of  a  country  fashion." 
Again,  in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  I : 

"  The  very  list,  the  very  utmost  bound, 
"  Of  all  our  fortunes." 

Again,  in  All's  well  that  ends  "well,  Act  II.  sc.  i :  "  —  you 
have  restrained  yourself  within  the  list  of  too  cold  an  adieu." 

Chapman,  in  his  translation  of  the  16th  Book  of  Homer's 
Odyssey,  has  thus  expressed  an  idea  similar  to  that  in  the  text : 

" ; let  thy  heart 

"  Beat  in  fix'd  confines  of  thy  bosom  still."     STEEVENS. 

ere  while  mad  with  your  grief, ~\     Thus  the  first  quarto. 


The  folio  reads : 

o'ervshelmed  with  your  grief.     STEEVENS. 


s encave  yourself,'}   Hide  yourself  in  a  private  place. 

JOHNSON. 

6  That  dwell  in  every  region  of  his  face;"]  Congreve  might 
have  had  this  passage  in  his  memory,  when  he  made  Lady 
Touchwood  say  to  Maskwell — "  Ten  thousand  meanings  lurk 
in  each  corner  of  that  various  face."  STEEVENS. 

region  of  his  face ;~\     The  same  uncommon  expression 

occurs  again  in  King  Henry  VIII: 

" The  respite  shook 

"  The  bosom  of  my  conscience 

" and  made  to  tremble 

"  The  region  of  my  breast."     MALONE. 


440  OTHELLO,  ACT  iv. 

Or  I  shall  say,  you  are  all  in  all  in  spleen,8 
And  nothing  of  a  man. 

OTH.  Dost  thou  hear,  lago  ? 

I  will  be  found  most  cunning  in  my  patience ; 
But  (dost  thou  hear  ?)  most  bloody. 

IAGO.  That's  not  amiss ; 

But  yet  keep  time  in  all.     Will  you  withdraw  ? 

[OTHELLO  withdraws. 
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  beguil'd  by  one  ; — 
He,  when  he  hears  of  her,  cannot  refrain 
From  the  excess  of  laughter : — Here  he  comes : — 

Re-enter  CASSIO. 

As  he  shall  smile,  Othello  shall  go  mad ; 
And  his  unbookish  jealousy9  must  construe 
Poor  Cassio's  smiles,  gestures,  and  light  behaviour, 
Quite  in  the  wrong. — How  do    you  now,  lieu- 
tenant ? 

CAS.  The  worser,  that  you  give  me  the  addition, 
Whose  want  even  kills  me. 

Or  I  shall  say,  you  are  all  in  all  in  spleen,"]   I  read: 

Or  shall  I  say,  you're  all  in  all  a  spleen, . 

I  think  our  author  uses  this  expression  elsewhere.  JOHNSON. 

**  A  hare-brain'd  Hotspur,  govern'd  by  a  spleen.1' — The  old 
reading,  however,  is  not  inexplicable.     We  still  say,  such  a  one 
is  in  wrath,  in  the  dumps,  &c.     The  sense  therefore  is  plain. 
Again,  in  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream: 

"  That,  in  a  spleen,  unfolds  both  heaven  and  earth — " 

STEEVENS. 

9  And  his  unbookish  jealousy—']    Unbookish,  for  ignorant. 

WARBURTON. 


sc.i.         THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          441 

I  AGO.  Ply  Desdemona  well,  and  you  are  sure  of't. 
Now,  if  this  suit  lay  in  Bianca's  power, 

[Speaking  lower. 
How  quickly  should  you  speed  ? 

CAS.  Alas,  poor  .caitiff! 

OTH.  Look,  how  he  laughs  already  !        [Aside. 

JAGO.  I  never  knew  a  woman  love  man  so. 

CAS.  Alas,  poor  rogue !  I  think  i'faith,  she  loves 
me. 

OTH.  Now  he  denies  it  faintly,  and  laughs  it  out. 

[Aside. 

I  AGO.  Do  you  hear,  Cassio  ? 

OTH.  Now  he  importunes  him 

To  tell  it  o'er :  Go  to ;  well  said,  well  said. 

[Aside. 

I  AGO.  She  gives  it  out,  that  you  shall  marry  her: 
Do  you  intend  it  ? 

CAS.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

OTH.  Do  you  triumph,  Roman  ?  do  you  tri- 
umph ?  1  [Aside. 

CAS.  I  marry  her  ! — what  ?  a  customer  !2  I  pr'y- 
thee,  bear  some  charity  to  my  wit ;  do  not  think 
it  so  unwholesome.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

OTH.  So,  so,  so,  so  :  They  laugh  that  win. 

[Aside. 

1  Do  you  triumph,  Roman?  do  you  triumph?]  Othello  calls 
him  Roman  ironically.  Triumph,  which  was  a  Roman  cere- 
mony, brought  Roman  into  his  thoughts.  What  (says  he)  you 
are  noiv  triumphing  as  great  as  a  Roman  ?  JOHNSON.' 

s a  customer  !]     A  common  woman,  one  that  invites 

custom.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  All's  'well  that  ends  well: 

"  I  think  thee  now  some  common  customer." 

STEEVEXS, 


OTHELLO,  ACTIV. 

IAGO.  'Faith,  the  cry  goes,  that  you  shall  marry 
her. 

CAS.  Pr'ythee,  say  true. 

IAGO.  I  am  a  very  villain  else. 

OTH.  Have  you  scored  me  ?3  Well.         [Aside. 

CAS.  This  is  the  monkey's  own  giving  out  :  she 
is  persuaded  I  will  marry  her,  out  of  her  own  love 
and  flattery,  not  out  of  my  promise. 

OTH.  lago  beckons  me  ;  now  he  begins  the  story. 

[Aside. 

CAS.  She  was  here  even  now  ;  she  haunts  me  in 
every  place.  1  was,  the  other  day,  talking  on  the 

3  Have  you  scored  me?~\  Have  you  made  my  reckoning  ?  have 
you  settled  the  term  of  my  life  ?  The  old  quarto  reads  —  stored 
me  ?  Have  you  disposed  of  me  ?  have  you  laid  me  up  ? 

JOHNSON. 

To  score  originally  meant  no  more  than  to  cut  a  notch  upon  a 
tally,  or  to  mark  out  a  form  by  indenting  it  on  any  substance. 
Spenser,  in  the  first  canto  of  his  Fairy  Queen,  speaking  of  the 
Cross,  says  : 

"  Upon  his  shield  the  like  was  also  scored." 
Again,  in  Book  II.  c.  ix  : 


why  on  your  shield,  so  goodly  scor'd, 


"  Bear  you  the  picture  of  that  lady's  head  ?" 
But  it  was  soon  figuratively  used  for  setting  a  brand  or  mark  of 
disgrace  on  any  one.  "  Let  us  score  their  backs,"  says  Scarus, 
in  Antony  and  Cleopatra;  and  it  is  employed  in  the  same  sense 
on  the  present  occasion.  STEEVENS. 

In  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  we  find  : 
"  ---  I  know  not 

"  What  counts  harsh  fortune  casts  upon  my  face,"  &c. 
But  in  the  passage  before  us  our  poet  might  have  been  thinking 
of  the  ignominious  punishment  of  slaves.     So,  in  his  Rape  of 
Lucrece: 

"  Worse  than  a  slavish  tripe,  or  birth-hour's  blot." 

MALONE. 

I  suspect  that  —  ivipe,  in  the  foregoing  passage  from  The  Rape 
of  Lucrece,  was  a  typographical  depravation  of  —  wispe.  See 
Vol.  XIV.  p.  68,  n.  2.  STEEVENS. 


so.  /.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          443 

sea-bank  with  certain  Venetians ;  and  thither 
comes  this  bauble;4  by  this  hand,5  she  falls  thus 
about  my  neck ; 

OTH.  Crying,  O  dear  Cassio !  as  it  were :  his 
gesture  imports  it.  [Aside. 

CAS.  So  hangs,  and  lolls,  and  weeps  upon  me  j 
so  hales,  and  pulls  me  :  ha,  ha,  ha ! — 

OTH.  Now  he  tells,  how  she  plucked  him  to  my 
chamber :  O,  I  see  that  nose  of  yours,  but  not 
that  dog  I  shall  throw  it  to.  [Aside. 

CAS.  Well,  I  must  leave  her  company. 
IAGO.  Before  me !  look,  where  she  comes. 

Enter  BIANCA. 

CAS.  'Tis  such  another  fitchew!6  marry,  a  per- 
fumed one. — What  do  you  mean  by  this  haunting 
of  me  ? 

BIAN.  Let  the  devil  and  his  dam  haunt  you ! 

*  this  bauble ;]    So  the  quarto.     The  folio — the  bauble. 

STEEVENS. 

'  ly  this  hand,"]  This  is  the  reading  of  the  first  quarto. 

STEEVENS. 

Instead  of  which,  the  editor  of  the  folio,  or  rather  the  licenser 
of  plays,  substituted — thither  comes  the  bauble,  and  falls  me 
thus,  &c.  MALONE. 

6  Jltcheiv  /]     A  pole-cat.     POPE. 

Shakspeare  has  in  another  place  mentioned  the  lust  of  this 
animal.  He  tells  lago,  that  she  is  as  lewd  as  the  polecat,  but  of 
better  scent,  the  polecat  being  a  very  stinking  animal. 

JOHNSON. 

By  "  another  place,"  Dr.  Johnson  means— ATzwg-  Lear: 
"  Thejitchetv,  nor  the  soiled  horse,  goes  to't 
"  With  a  more  riotous  appetite." 

A  polecat  therefore  was  anciently  one  of  the  cant  terms  for  a 
strumpet.     STEEVENS. 


444  OTHELLO,  ACT  ir. 

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  whole  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  r 
how  now  ? 

OTH.  By  heaven,  that  should  be  my  handker- 
chief! [Aside. 

BIAN.  An  you'll  come  to  supper  to-night,  you 
may :  an  you  will  not,  come  when  you  are  next 
prepared  for.  [Exit. 

I  AGO.  After  her,  after  her. 
CAS.  'Faith  I  must,  she'll  rail  in  the  street  else. 
IAGO.  Will  you  sup  there  ? 
•    CAS.  'Faith,  I  intend  so. 

IAGO.  Well,  I  may  chance  to  see  you ;  for  I 
would  very  fain  speak  with  you. 

CAS.  Pr'ythee,  come;  Will  you  ? 
IAGO.  Go  to ;  say  no  more.  [Exit  CASSIO. 

OTH.  How  shall  I  murder  him,  lago  ? 
IAGO.  Did  you  perceive  how  he  laughed  at  his 
vice? 

OTH.  O,  lago ! 

IAGO.  And  did  you  see  the  handkerchief? 

OTH.  Was  that  mine  ? 

IAGO.  Yours,  by  this  hand  :7  and  to  see  how  he 

7.  Yours,  by  this  hand:']     This  speech  is  not  in  the  original 
quarto,  1622.     MALONE. 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          445 

prizes  the  foolish  woman,  your  wife !  she  gave  it 
him,  and  he  hath  given  it  his  whore. 

OTH.  I  would  have  him  nine  years  a  killing: — 
A  fine  woman  !  a  fair  woman  !  a  sweet  woman ! 

IAGO.  Nay,  you  must  forget  that. 

OTH.  Ay,  let  her  rot,  and  perish,  and  be  damned 
to-night ;  for  she  shall  not  live  :  No,  my  heart  is 
turned  to  stone  ;  I  strike  it,  and  it  hurts  my  hand.8 
O,  the  world  hath  not  a  sweeter  creature:  she 
might  lie  by  an  emperor's  side,  and  command  him 
tasks. 

IAGO.  Nay,  that's  not  your  way. 

OTH.  Hang  her !  I  do  but  say  what  she  is  : — So 
delicate  with  her  needle ! — An  admirable  musician  1 
O,  she  will  sing  the  savageness  out  of  a  bear  !9 — Of 
so  high  and  plenteous  wit  and  invention  ! — 

IAGO.  She's  the  worse  for  all  this. 

OTH.  O,  a  thousand,  a  thousand  times : — And 
then,  of  so  gentle  a  condition!1 

IAGO.  Ay,  too  gentle. 


8  No,  my  heart  is  turned  to  stone ;,  I  strike  it,  and  it  hurts  my 
hand.]  This  thought,  as  often  as  it  occurs  to  Shakspeare,  is  sure 
to  be  received,  and  as  often  counteracts  his  pathos.  So,  in  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra,  Act  IV.  sc.  viii : 

" throw  my  heart 

"  Against  the  flint  and  hardness  of  my  fault, 

**  Which,  being  dried  with  grief,  will  break  to  powder, 

"  And  finish  all  foul  thoughts."     STEEVENS. 

O,  she  "will  sing  the  savageness  out  of  a  bear  /]     So,  in 


Venus  and  Adonis  : 

" when  he  hath  sung 

"  The  tiger  would  be  tame."     MA  LONE. 

1  And  then,  of  so  gentle  a  condition  !]      i.  e.  of  so  sweet 

a  disposition.     So,  in  King  Henry  V :  "  Our  tongue  is  rough, 
coz,  and  my  condition  is  not  smooth."     MALONE. 


446  OTHELLO^  ACT  iv. 

OTH.  Nay,  that's  certain :  But  yet  the  pity  of  it, 
lago ! — O,  lago,  the  pity  of  it,  lago ! 

I  AGO.  If  you  are  so  fond  over  her  iniquity,  give 
her  patent  to  offend  ;2  for,  if  it  touch  not  you,  it 
comes  near  nobody. 

OTH.  I  will  chop  her  into  messes :-— Cuckold  nie ! 
IAGO.  O,  'tis  foul  in  her. 
OTH.  With  mine  officer ! 
IAGO.  That's  fouler. 

OTH.  Get  me  some  poison,  lago ;  this  night  :• — 
I'll  not  expostulate  with  her,  lest  her  body  and 
beauty  unprovide  my  mind  again :— - this  night, 
lago. 

IAGO.  Do  it  not  with  poison,  strangle  her  in  her 
bed,  even  the  bed  she  hath  contaminated. 

OTH.  Good,  good :  the  justice  of  it  pleases ; 
very  good. 

IAGO.  And,  for  Cassio, — let  me  be  his  under- 
taker :  You  shall  hear  more  by  midnight. 

\_A  Trumpet  within. 

OTH.  Excellent  good. — What  trumpet  is  that 
same? 

IAGO.  Something  from  Venice,  sure.     'Tis  Lo- 

dovico, 

Come  from  the  duke :  and,  see,  your  wife  is  with 
him. 

*  If  you  are  Kofond  over  her  iniquity,  give  her  patent  to  of- 
fend ;]  So,  in  King  Edward  III.  a  tragedy,  1596: 

"  Why  then  give  sin  a  passport  to  offend,"     MALONE. 


so.  i.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE. 


Enter  LODOVICO,  DESDEMONA,  and  Attendants. 

LOD.  'Save  you,  worthy  general ! 

OTH.  With  all  my  heart,  sir.3 

LOD.  The  duke  and  senators  of  Venice  greet 
you.  {Gives  him  a  Packet. 

OTH.  I  kiss  the  instrument  of  their  pleasures. 
{Opens  the  Packet,  and  reads. 

DES.  And  what's -the  news,  good  cousin  Lodo- 
vico  ? 

I  AGO.  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  signior ; 
Welcome  to  Cyprus. 

LOD.  I  thank  you:  How  does  lieutenant  Cassio? 


3  With  all  my  heart,  sir,"]  This  does  not  relate  to  what  Lo- 
dovico  has  just  said,  but  is  spoken  by  Othello  while  he  salutes 
him.  MA  LONE. 

I  know  not  how  the  meaning  of  this  speech  can  be  ascertain- 
ed, unless  by  reference  to  the  salutation  of  Lodovico. 

The  distracted  Othello,  considering  his  own  happiness  at  an 
end  in  this  world,  readily  catches  at  the  idea  of  future  felicity 
suggested  by  the  words — "  'Save  you,  general !" 

In  his  present  reply,  therefore,  he  must  be  supposed  to  wel- 
come the  pious  wish  expressed  on  his  behalf. 

In  Measure  for  Measure,  two  replies  of  Angelo,  equally  equi- 
vocal, are  derived  from  similar  premises  : 

"  Isab.  Heaven  keep  your  honour  safe ! 
"  Ang.  Amen !" 

Again,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  same  scene  : 
"  Isab,  'Save your  honour! 
"  Ang.  From  thee :  even  from  thy  virtue  t" 
If  it  be  urged,  that  *'  save  you"  only  means  preserve  you  m 
this  world,  my  sense  of  the  passage  will  not  be  much  weakened: 
as  our  protection, 

"  Even  here,  upon  this  bank  and  shoal  of  time," 
depends  on  the  Almighty.     STEEVENS. 


448  OTHELLO,  ACT  IT. 

IAGO.  Lives,  sir, 

DES.  Cousin,  there's  fallen  between  him  and 

my  lord 

An  unkind  breach  :  but  you  shall  make  all  well. 
OTH.  Are  you  sure  of  that? 
DES.  My  lord? 

OTH.  This  fail  you  not  to  do,  as  you  will — 

[Reads. 

LOD.  He  did  not  call ;  he's  busy  in  the  paper. 
Is  there  division  'twixt  thy  lord  and  Cassio  ? 

DES.  A  most  unhappy  one ;  I  would  do  much 
To  atone  them,4  for  the  love  I  bear  to  Cassio. 

OTH.  Fire  and  brimstone ! 

DES.  My  lord  ? 

OTH.  Are  you  wise  r 

DES.  What,  is  he  angry  ? 

LOD.  'May  be,  the  letter  mov'd  him  ; 

For,  as  I  think,  they  do  command  him  home, 
Deputing  Cassio  in  his  government. 

DES.  By  my  troth,  I  am  glad  on't. 
OTH.  Indeed  ? 

DES.  My  lord  ? 

OTH.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  mad. 


4  atone  them,"]  Make  them  one  ;  reconcile  them. 

JOHNSON. 

The  expression  is  formed  by  the  coalescence  of  the  words  at 
one,  the  verb  to  set,  or  some  equivalent  being  omitted.  Thus, 
in  the  Acts:  " — he  showed  himself  to  them  as  they  strove,  and 
would  have  set  them  AT  ONE  again."  And  in  The  Beehive  of 
the  Romish  Church :  "  — through  which  God  is  made  AT  ONE 
with  us,  and  hath  forgiven  us  our  sins."  HENLEY, 

See  Vol.  XVI.  p.  199,  n.  8,     MALONI*. 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          449 

DES.  How,  sweet  Othello  ? 

OTH.  Devil!  [Striking her. 

DES.  I  have  not  deserved  this. 

LOD.  My  lord,  this  would  not  be  believ'd  in 

Venice, 

Though  I  should  swear  I  saw  it :  'Tis  very  much  ; 
Make  her  amends,  she  weeps. 

OTH.  O  devil,  devil ! 

If  that  the  earth  could  teem  with  woman's  tears,5 
Each  drop  she  falls6  would  prove  a  crocodile : — 
Out  of  my  sight ! 

DES.  I  will  not  stay  to  offend  you. 

[Going. 

LOD.  Truly,  an  obedient  lady : — 
I  do  beseech  your  lordship,  call  her  back. 

OTH.  Mistress, 


*  If  that  the  earth  could  teem  &c.]  If  women's  tears  could 
impregnate  the  earth.  By  the  doctrine  of  equivocal  generation, 
new  animals  were  supposed  producible  by  new  combinations  of 
matter.  See  Bacon.  JOHNSON. 

Shakspeare  here  alludes  to  the  fabulous  accounts  of  crocodiles. 
Each  tear,  says  Othello,  which  falls  from  the  false  Desdemona, 
would  generate  a  crocodile,  the  most  deceitful  of  all  animals,  and 
whose  own  tears  are  proverbially  fallacious.  "  It  is  written," 
says  Bullokar,  "  that  he  will  weep  over  a  man's  head  when  he 
hath  devoured  the  body,  and  then  he  will  eat  up  the  head  too. 
Wherefore  in  Latin  there  is  a  proverbe,  crocodili  lachrymce,  cro- 
codile's tears,  to  signifie  such  tears  as  are  fained,  and  spent  only 
with  intent  to  deceive,  or  doe  harme."  English  Expositor,  8vo. 
1616.  It  appears  from  this  writer,  that  a  dead  crocodile,  "but 
in  perfect  forme,"  of  about  nine  feet  long,  had  been  exhibited 
in  London,  in  our  poet's  time.  MALONE. 

0  Each  drop  she  falls — ]  To  Jail  is  here  a  verb  active.  So, 
in  The  Tempest:  ,. 

" when  I  rear  my  hand,  do  you  the  like, 

"  To  Jail  it  on  Gonzalo."     STEEVENS. 
VOL.  XIX.  2  G 


450  OTHELLO,  ACT  jr. 


My  lord  ? 

OTH.  What  would  you  with  her,  sir  ? 

LOD.  Who,  I,  my  lord  ? 

OTH.  Ay  ;  you  did  wish,  that  I  would  make  her 

turn  : 

Sir,  she  can  turn,  and  turn,  and  yet  go  on, 
And  turn  again  ;  7  and  she  can  weep,  sir,  we'ep  ; 
And  she's  obedient,  as  you  say,  —  obedient,  — 
Very  obedient  ;  —  Proceed  you  in  your  tears.8  — 
Concerning  this,  sir,  —  O  well-painted  passion  ! 
I  am  commanded  home  :9  —  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.1    And,  —  sir,  to-night, 

7  Sir,  she  can  turn,  &c.]   So,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  I: 

"  Done  like  a  Frenchman  ;  turn  and  turn  again" 

STEEVENS. 

8  -  Proceed  you  in  your  tears."]     I  cannot  think  that  the 
poet  meant  to  make  Othello  bid  Desdemona  to  continue  weeping, 
which  proceed  you  in  your  tears,  (as  the  passage  is  at  present 
pointed)  must  mean.     He  rather  would  have  said  : 

-  Proceed  you  in  your  tears  t 

What!  will  you  still  continue  to  be  a  hypocrite  by  a  display  of 
this  "well-painted  passion  ?    WARNER. 

I  think  the  old  punctuation  the  true  one.     MAI/ONE. 

*  I  am  commanded  home:}  Thus  the  folio.  The  quarto, 
1622,  reads,  perhaps  better  : 

/  am  commanded  here  —  Gel  you  away,  Sec. 
The  alteration,  I  suspect,  was  made,  from  the  editor  of  the  folio 
not  perceiving  that  an  abrupt  sentence  was  intended.     MALONE. 

/  am  commanded  here,  (without  the  least  idea  of  an  abrupt 
sentence,  )  may  be  an  indignant  sentiment  of  Othello  :  —  "  I  have 
an  officer  here  placed  over  my  head  :  I  am  now  under  the  com- 
mand of  another  :"  i.  e.  of  Cassio,  to  whom  the  government  of 
Cyprus  was  just  transferred.  STEEVEXS. 

1  Cassio  shall  have  n\y  place."]  Perhaps  this  is  addressed  to 
Desdemona,  who  had  just  expressed  her  joy  on  hearing  Cassio  was 


K.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          451 

I  do  entreat  that  we  may  sup  together. 
You  are  welcome,   sir,   to   Cyprus. — Goats  and 
monkies!2  [Exit. 

LOD.  Is  this  the  noble  Moor  whom  our  full 

senate 

Call — all-in-all  sufficient  ? — This  the  noble  nature 
Whom  passion  could  not  shake  ?  whose  solid  virtue 
The  shot  of  accident,  nor  dart  of  chance, 
Could  neither  graze,  nor  pierce?3 


deputed  in  the  room  of  her  husband.  Her  innocent  satisfaction 
in  the  hope  of  returning  to  her  native  place,  is  construed  by 
Othello  into  the  pleasure  she  received  from  the  advancement  of 
his  rival.  STEEVENS. 

4  Goats  and  monkies  !~]    In  this  exclamation  Shakspeare 

has  shown  great  art.  lago,  in  the  first  scene  in  which  he  endea- 
vours to  awaken  his  suspicion,  being  urged  to  give  some  evident 
proof  of  the  guilt  of  Cassio  and  Desdemona,  tells  him  it  were 
impossible  to  have  ocular  demonstration  of  it,  though  they  should 
be  "  as  prime  as  goats,  as  hot  as  monkies." — These  words,  we 
may  suppose,  still  ring  in  the  ears  of  Othello,  who  being  now 
fully  convinced  of  his  wife's  infidelity,  rushes  out  with  this  em- 
phatick  exclamation  : — lago's  words  vrere  but  too  true ;  now  in- 
deed I  am  convinced  that  they  are  as  hot  as  "goats  and  monkies." 

MA  LOWE. 


Though  the  words  of  Othello,  cited  by  Mr.  Malone,  could  not 
have  escaped  the  deliberate  reader's  memory,  a  reference  to  a 
distant  scene,  but  ill  agrees  with  the  infuriation  of  Othello's  mind. 
His  fancy,  haunted  by  still  growing  images  of  lewdness,  would 
scarce  have  expressed  its  feelings  in  recollected  phraseology. 

STEEVENS. 

3  whose  solid  virtus 

The  shot  o/'accident,  nor  dart  of  chance, 

Could  neither  graze,  nor  pierce  ?]  I  cannot  see,  for  my 
heart,  the  difference  betwixt  the  shot  of  accident  ami  dart  of 
chance.  The  words  and  things  they  imply  are  purely  synony- 
mous ;  but  that  the  poet  intended  two  different  things  seems  plain 
from  the  discretive  adverb.  Chance  may  afflict  a  man  in  Some 
circumstances ;  but  other  distresses  are  to  be  accounted  for  from 
a  different  cause.  I  am  persuaded  our  author  wrote : 

2  G  2 


452  OTHELLO,  ACT  ir. 

IAGO.  He  is  much  chang'd. 

LOD.  Are  his  wits  safe  ?  is  he  not  light  of  brain  ? 

IAGO.  He  is  that  he  is ;  I  may  not  breathe  my 

censure. 

What  he  might  be, — if,  what  he  might,  he  is  not, — 
I. would  to  heaven,  he  were. 

LOD.  What,  strike  his  wife ! 

IAGO.  'Faith,  that  was  not  so  well ;  Yet  'would  I 

knew, 
That  stroke  would  prove  the  worst. 

LOD.  Is  it  his  use  ? 

Or  did  the  letters  work  upon  his  blood, 
And  new-create  this  fault  ? 

IAGO.  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, 


The  shot  of  accident,  nor  dart  of  change,  Sfc. 
And,  in  a  number  of  other  places,  our  poet  industriously  puts 
these  two  words  in  opposition  to  each  other.     THEOBALD. 

To  graze  is  not  merely  to  touch  superficially,  [as  Dr.  War- 
burton  has  stated,]  but  to  strike  not  directly,  not  so  as  to  bury 
the  body  of  the  thing  striking  in  the  matter  struck. 

Theobald  trifles,  as  is  usual.  Accident  and  chance  may  admit 
a  subtle  distinction  ;  accident  may  be  considered  as  the  act,  and 
chance  as  the  poiver  or  agency  of  fortune ;  as,  It  was  by  chance 
that  this  accident  befel  me.  At  least,  if  we  suppose  all  corrupt 
that  is  inaccurate,  there  will  be  no  end  of  emendation. 

JOHNSON. 

I  do  not  see  the  least  ground  for  supposing  any  corruption  in 
this  passage.  As  pierce  relates  to  the  dart  of  chance,  so  graze  is 
referred  to  the  shot  of  accident.  The  expression  is  still  used; 
we  still  say — he  was  grazed  by  a  bullet. 

F«r  graze,  Dr.  Warburton  arbitrarily  substituted — raze. 

MALONK. 


sc.  n.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          453 

That  I  may  save  my  speech  :  Do  but  go  after, 
And  mark  how  he  continues. 

LOD.  I  am  sorry,  that  I  am  deceived  in  him. 

{Exeunt, 


SCENE  II. 

A  Room  in  the  Castle.' 
Enter  OTHELLO  and  EMILIA. 

OTH.  You  have  seen  nothing  then  ? 

EMIL.  Nor  ever  heard ;  nor  ever  did  suspect. 

4  A  Room  in  the  Castle.~\  There  are  great  difficulties  in  ascer- 
taining the  place  of  this  scene.  Near  the  close  of  it,  lago  says 
to  Desdemona,  "  Go  in,  and  weep  not,"  which  would  lead  us 
to  place  it  in  the  court  before  Othello's  castle.  These  words  may 
indeed  be  explained  to  mean,  "Go  into  the  supper-room" 
(though  I  do  not  think  that  the  meaning)  :  but  immediately 
afterwards  Roderigo  enters,  and  converses  with  lago,  which  de- 
cisively ascertains  the  scene  not  to  be  in  Othello's  house :  for 
Roderigo,  who  had  given  the  first  intelligence  to  Brabantio,  of 
his  daughter's  flight,  and  had  shortly  afterwards  drawn  his  sword 
on  Othello  and  his  partisans,  certainly  would  not  take  the  liberty 
of  walking  into  his  house  at  pleasure. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  Othello  says  early  in  the  scene  to 
Emilia — 

"  Leave  procreants  alone,  and  shut  the  door;" 
and  his  subsequent  address  to  her  as  he  goes  out,  as  decisively 
point  out  a  room  in  Othello's  castle  as  the  place  of  the  scene ; 
and  compel  us  to  place  the  several  interlocutors  there,  however 
inconsistent  M'ith  Roderigo's  entry,  and  lago's  address  to  Des- 
demona. 

The  truth  is,  that  our  poet  and  his  audience,  in  this  instance, 
as  in  many  others,  were  content,  from  want  of  scenery,  to  con- 
sider the  very  same  spot,  at  one  and  at  the  same  time,  as  the  out- 
side and  inside  of  a  house.  See  The  Historical  Account  of  the 
English  Stage,  &c.  Vol.  III.  MALONE. 


454  OTHELLO,  ACTIV. 

OTH.  Yes,  you  have  seen  Cassio  and  she  toge- 
ther. 

EMIL.  But  then  I  saw  no  harm  j  and  then  I 

heard 
Each  syllable,  that  breath  made  up  between  them. 

OTH.  What,  did  they  never  whisper  ? 
EMIL.  Never,  my  lord. 

OTH.  Nor  send  you  out  o'the  way  ? 
EMIL.  Never. 

OTH.  To  fetch  her  fan,  her  gloves,  her  mask,  nor 
nothing  ? 

EMIL.  Never,  my  lord. 

OTH.  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. 
If  any  wretch  hath  put  this  in  your  head, 
Let  heaven  requite  it  with  the  serpent's  curse ! 
For,  if  she  be  not  honest,  chaste,  and  true, 
There's  no  man  happy  ;  the  purest  of  their  wives5 
Is  foul  as  slander. 

OTH.  Bid  her  come  hither : — 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 ;  1  have  seen  her  do't. 


4 of  their  'wives — ]    Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto,  1622, 

reads — of  her  sex.    MALONE. 


sc.n.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          455 


Re-enter  EMILIA,  with  DESDEMONA. 

DES.  My  lord,  what  is  your  will  ? 

OTH.  Pray,  chuck,  come  hither. 

DES.  What  is  your  pleasure  ? 

OTH.  Let  me  see  your  eyes  j 

Look  in  my  face. 

DES.  What  horrible  fancy's  this  ? 

OTH.  Some  of  your  function,  mistress  ; 

[To  EMILIA. 

Leave  procreants  alone,  and  shut  the  door  ; 
Cough,  or  cry  —  hem,  if  any  body  come  : 
Your  mystery,  your  mystery  j  —  nay,  despatch. 

[Exit  EMILIA. 

DES.  Upon  my  knees,  what  doth  your  speech 

import  ? 

I  understand  a  fury  in  your  words, 
But  not  the  words.6 

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  them- 

selves 
Should  fear  to  seize  thee  :  therefore  be  double- 

damn'd, 
Swear  —  thou  art  honest. 

DES.  Heaven  doth  truly  know  it. 

OTH.  Heaven  truly  knows,  that  thou  art  false  as 
hell. 


But  not  the  ioords.~\    This  line  is  added  out  of  the  fii'st  edition. 

POPE. 


456  OTHELLO,         .          ACT  iv. 

DES.  To  whom,  my  lord  ?  with  whom  ?  How  am 
I  false  ? 

OTH.  O  Desdemona  ! — away !  away !  away ! 

DES.  Alas,  the  heavy  day ! — Why  do  you  weep  ? 
Am  I  the  occasion  of  these  tears,  my  lord  ? 
If,  haply,  you  my  father  do  suspect, 
An  instrument  of  this  your  calling  back, 
Lay  not  your  blame  on  me  ;  if  you  have  lost  him, 
Why,  I  nave  lost  him  too. 

OTH.  Had  it  pleas'd  heaven 

To  try  me  with  affliction  ;  had  he  rain'd 
All  kinds  of  sores,  and  shames,  on  my  bare  head  j 
Steep'd  me  in  poverty  to  the  very  lips ; 
Given  to  captivity  me  and  my  utmost  hopes ; 
I  should  have  found  in  some  part  of  my  soul 
A  drop  of  patience  :  but  (alas!)  to  make  me 
A  fixed  figure,  for  the  time  of  scorn7 


7  time  of  scorn  &c.]    The  reading  of  both  the  eldest 

quartos  and  the  folio  is — 

for  the  time  of  scorn. 

Mr.  Howe  reads — hand  of  scorn  ;  and  succeeding  editors  have 
silently  followed  him. 

I  would  ( though  in  opposition  to  so  many  great  authorities  in 
favour  of  the  change )  continue  to  read  with  the  old  copy : 

the  time  of  scorn. 

We  call  the  hour  in  which  we  are  to  die,  the  hour  of  death — 
the  time  when  we  are  to  be  judged — the  day  of  judgment — the 
instant  when  we  suffer  calamity — the  moment  of  evil;  and  why 
may  we  not  distinguish  the  time  which  brings  contempt  along 
with  it,  by  the  title  of  the  time  of  scorn  ?  Thus,  in  King  Richard 
III: 

"  Had  you  such  leisure  in  the  time  of  death  ?" — 
Again,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  Ill : 

"  To  help  king  Edward  in  his  time  of  storm." 
Again,  in  Soliman  and  Perseda,  1599: 

"  So  sings  the  mariner  upon  the  shore, 
"  When  he  hath  past  the  dangerous  time  of  storms." 
Again,  in  Marston's  Insatiate  Countess,  1613: 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          457 

To  point  his  slow  unmoving  finger  at, — 
O!  O! 

"  I'll  poison  thee ;  with  murder  curbe  thy  paths, 
"  And  make  thee  know  a  time  of  infamy." 
Othello  takes  his  idea  from  a  clock.     To  make  me  (says  he)  a 
Jlxed  Jigure  (on  the  dial  of  the  world)  for  the  hour  of  scorn  to 
point  and  make  a  full  stop  at ! 

By  slow  unmoving  finger  our  poet  could  have  meant  only — 
so  slow  that  its  motion  was  imperceptible.  Thus,  in  Antony  and 
Cleopatra  the  Messenger,  describing  the  gait  of  the  demure 
Octavia,  says — 

" she  creeps ; 

"  Her  motion  and  her  station  are  as  one:" 
i.  e.  she  moved  so  slowly,  that  she  appeared  as  if  she  stood  still. 

STEEVENS. 

Might  not  Shakspeare  have  written : 

" for  the  scorn  of  time 

"  To  point  his  slow  unmoving  finger  at," — 
i.  e.  the  marked  object  for  the  contempt  of  all  ages  and  all  time. 
So,  in  Hamlet  : 

"  For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time?" 
However,  in  support  of  the  reading  of  the  old  copies,  it  may 
be  observed,  that  our  author  has  personified  scorn  in  his  88th 
Sonnet : 

"  When  thou  shalt  be  dispos'd  to  set  me  light, 
"  And  place  my  merit  in  the  eye  of  scorn — ." 
The  epithet  unmoving  may  likewise  derive  some  support  from 
Shakspeare's  104th  Sonnet,  in  which  this  very  thought  is  ex- 
pressed : 

"  Ah  !  yet  doth  beauty,  like  a  dial-hand, 
"  Steal  from  his  Jigure,  and  no  pace  perceived; 
"  So  your  sweet  hue,  which  methinks  still  doth  standy 
"  Hath  motion,  and  mine  eye  may  be  deceiv'd." 
In  the  clocks  of  the  last  age  there  was,  I  think,  in  the  middle 
of  the  dial-plate  a  figure  of  time,  which,  I  believe,  was  in  our 
poet's  thoughts,  when  he  wrote  the  passage  in  the  text.     [See 
Vol.  XL  p.  162,  n.  7.] 

The  foiger  of  the  dial  was  the  technical  phrase.     So,  in  Albo* 
vine  King  of  the  Lombards,  by  D'Avenant,  1629: 
**  Even  as  the  slow  finger  of  the  dial 
**  Doth  in  its  motion  circular  remove 
"  To  distant  figures, — ." 
D'Avenant  was  a  great  reader  of  Shakspeare,  and  probably 


458  OTHELLO,  ACT  iv. 

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

had  read  his  plays,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  time,  in  the 
folio,  without  troubling  himself  to  look  into  the  quarto  copies. 

Unmoving  is  the  reading  of  the  quarto,  1622.  The  folio  reads 
— and  moving ;  and  this  certainly  agrees  with  the  image  pre- 
sented and  its  counterpart,  better  than  unmoving,  which  can  be 
applied  to  a  clock,  only  by  licence  of  poetry,  ( not  appearing  to 
move,)  and  as  applied  to  scorn,  has  but  little  force  :  to  say 
nothing  of  the  superfluous  epithet  slow ;  for  there  needs  no 
ghost  to  tell  us,  that  that  which  is  unmoving  is  slow.  Slow  im- 
plies some  sort  of  motion,  however  little  it  may  be,  and  there- 
fore appears  to  me  to  favour  the  reading  of  the  folio. 

I  have  given  the  arguments  on  both  sides,  and,  from  respect 
to  the  opinion  of  others,  have  printed  unmoving,  though  1  am 
very  doubtful  whether  it  was  the  word  intended  by  Shakspeare. 
The  quarto,  1622,  has— -fingers  ;  the  folio— fager.  MALONE. 

Perhaps  we  should  read — slowly  moving  jtnger  at,  I  should 
wish  to  reject  the  present  reading,  for  even  the  word  slow  implies 
some  degree  of  motion,  though  that  motion  may  not  be  percep- 
tible to  the  eye.  The  time  of  acorn  is  a  strange  expression,  to 
which  I  cannot  reconcile  myself;  I  have  no  doubt  but  it  is  erro- 
neous, and  wish  we  had  authority  to  read — hand  of  scorn,  in- 
stead of  time.  M.  MASON. 

If  a  certain  culprit,  in  one  of  his  soliloquies  (after  the  execu- 
tion of  a  late  sentence  in  the  com  market)  had  been  heard  to 
exclaim : 

" but,  alas  !  to  make  me 

"  A  fixed  figure,  for  the  time  of  scorn 

"  To  point  his  slow  unmoving  finger  at, 

"  O!  O!" 

he  would,  at  once,  have  been  understood,  by  the  TIME  of  scorn, 
to  mean  the  HOUR  of  his  exposure  in  the  pillory  ;  and  by  its  slow 
unmoving  FINGER,  the  HOUR-INDEX  oj  the  dial  tliat  fronted 
him. — 

Mr.  Malone,  in  a  subsequent  note,  hath  remarked  that  "  his 
for  its  is  common  in  our  author ;"  and  in  respect  to  the  epithet 
unmoving,  it  may  be  observed,  with  Rosalind,  not  only  that 
time  travels  in  divers  places  with  divers  persons,  but,  that  for 
the  same  reason,  it  GALLOPS  with  the  thief  to  the  gallows,  it 
apparently  STANDS  STILL  with  the  perjured  in  the  pillory. 
Whatever  were  the  precise  instance  of  disgrace  to  which  Othello 
alluded,  the  text  in  its  present  state,  is  perfectly  intelligible;  and, 
therefore,  should  be  preserved  from  capricious  alterations. 

HEN  LEY. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         459 

But  there,  where  I  have  garner' d  up  my  heart  j8 

Where  either  I  must  live,  or  bear  no  life  ;9 

The  fountain  from  the  which  my  current  runs, 

Or  else  dries  up  ;  to  be  discarded  thence ! 

Or  keep  it  as  a  cistern,  for  foul  toads1 

To  knot  and  gender  in ! — turn  thy  complexion 

there ! 

Patience,  thou  young  and  rose-lipp'd  cherubin ; 
Ay,  there,  look  grim  as  hell  !2 

DES.  I  hope,  my  noble  lord  esteems  me  honest. 

OTH.  O,  ay ;  as  summer  flies  are  in  the  sham- 
bles, 
That  quicken  even  with  blowing.     O  thou  weed,3 

8 — : — garner d  up  my  heart ;~\  That  is,  treasured  up;  the 
garner  and  \\iefountain  are  improperly  conjoined.  JOHNSON. 

9  Where  either  I  must  live,  or  bear  no  life  ;~]  So,  in  K.  Lear; 
"  Whereby  we  do  exist,  or  cease  to  be."     STEEVENS. 

1 a  cistern,  for  foul  toads  &c.]  So,  in  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra : 

"  So  half  my  Egypt  were  submerg'd,  and  made 

"  A  cistern  for  scal'd  snakes ."     STEEVENS. 

s turn  thy  complexion  there  !  &c.]   At  such  an  object  do 

thou,  patience,  thyself  change  colour ;  at  this  do  thou,  even 
thou,  rosy  cherub  as  thou  art,  look  as  grim  as  hell.  The  old  edi- 
tions and  the  new  have  it : 

"  /  here  look  grim  as  hell." 
Jwas  written  for  ay,  and  not  since  corrected.     JOHNSON. 

Here  in  the  old  copies  was  manifestly  an  error  of  the  press. 
See  the  line  next  but  one  above.  Mr.  Theobald  made  the  cor- 
rection. MALONE. 

3 O  thou  weed,']  Dr.  Johnson  has,  on  this  occasion,  been 

unjustly  censured  for  having  stifled  difficulties  where  he  could 
not  remove  them.  I  would  therefore  observe,  that  Othello's 
speech  is  printed  word  for  word  from  the  folio  edition,  though 
the  quarto  reads : 

"  O  thou  black  weed!" 

Had  this  epithet,  black,  been  admitted,  there  would  still  have 
remained  an  incomplete  verse  in  the  speech:  no  additional  beauty 


460  OTHELLO,  ACT  ir. 

Who  art  so  lovely  fair,  and  smell'st  so  sweet, 
That  the  sense  aches  at  thee. — 'Would,  thou  had'st 
ne'er  been  born ! 

DES.  Alas,  what  ignorant  sin  have  I  committed? 

OTH.  Was  this  fair  paper,  this  most  goodly  book, 
Made  to  write  whore  upon  ?4  What  committed ! 
Committed!5 — O  thou  publick  commoner! 
I  should  make  very  forges  of  my  cheeks, 
That  would  to  cinders  burn  up  modesty, 

would  have  been  introduced ;  but  instead  of  it,  a  paltry  antithesis 
between  the  words  black  andjair.     STEEVENS. 
The  quarto,  1622,  reads  : 

"  O  .thou  black  weed,  'why  art  so  lovely  fair  ? 
"  Thou  smell'st  so  sweet,  that  the  sense  aches  at  thee,'* 
&c.     MALONE. 

4  Was  this  fair  paper,  £c.]  Massinger  has  imitated  this  pas- 
sage in  The  Emperor  of  the  East : 

" can  you  think 

"  This  master  piece  of  heaven,  this  precious  vellum 
"  Of  such  a  purity  and  virgin  whiteness, 
"  Could  be  design'd  to  have  perjury  and  whoredom 
"  In  capital  letters  writ  upon't  ?"     STEEVENS. 
4  Committed  !~\   This  and  the  three  following  lines,  are  omitted 
in  the  first  quarto.     For  the  peculiar  sense  in  which  the  word — 
committed,  is  here  used,  see  Vol.  XVII.  p.  466,  n.  8.     See  also, 
Decker's  Bell-mans  Night  Walkes,  &c  :  "  But  what  doe  they  ? 
marrie,  they  doe  that  which  the  Constable  should  have  done  for 
them  both  in  the  streets ;  that  is  to  say,  commit,  commit !" 

STEEVENS. 

This  word  in  Shakspeare's  time,  beside  its  general  significa- 
tion, seems  to  have  been  applied  particularly  to  unlawful  acts  of 
love. — Hence  perhaps  it  is  so  often  repeated  by  Othello. 

So,  in  Sir  Thomas  Overbury's  CHARACTERS,  (A  Very  Woman} 
1614:  "  She  commits  with  her  ears  for  certain;  after  that,  she 
may  go  for  a  maid,  but  she  has  been  lain  with  in  her  understand- 
ing." The  word  is  used  in  the  same  sense  in  King  Lear: 

"  Commit  not  with  man's  sworn  spouse." 
Again,  in  Decker's  Honest  Whore,  P.  I: 

" if  all  committers  stood  in  a  rank, 

"  They'd  make  a  lane,  in  which  your  shame  might  dwell." 

MALONE. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          461 

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,6 
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. 

OTH.  Are  not  you  a  strumpet  ? 

DES.  No,  as  I  am  a  Christian : 

If  to  preserve  this  vessel  for  my  lord,7 
From  any  other8  foul  unlawful  touch, 
Be — not  to  be  a  strumpet,  I  am  none. 

OTH.  What,  not  a  whore  ? 

DES.  No,  as  I  shall  be  saved. 

OTH.  Is  it  possible  ? 

DES.  O,  heaven  forgive  us ! 

OTH.  I  cry  you  mercy,  then ; 

I  took  you  for  that  cunning  whore  of  Venice, 
That  married  with  Othello. — You,  mistress, 

Re-enter  EMILIA. 

That  have  the  office  opposite  to  Saint  Peter, 
And  keep  the  gate  of  hell  ;  You  !  you  !  ay,  you  ! 

6  The  bawdy  ivind,  that  kisses  all  it  meets,"]   So,  in  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice  : 

"  Hugg'd  and  embraced  by  the  strumpet  wind." 

MA  LONE. 

7  If  to  preserve  this  vessel  for  my  lord,]  This  expression,  as 
well  as  many  others,  our  author  has  borrowed  from  the  sacred 
writings:  "  — to  possess  his  vessel  in  sanctification," — 1  Thess. 
iy.  4.    MALONE. 

• any  other — ]  Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto  reads— any 

hated.    STKIVENS. 


462  OTHELLO,  ACT ir. 

We  have  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  con- 
ceive ? — 
How  do  you,  madam  ?  how  do  you,  my  good  lady  ? 

DES.  'Faith,  half  asleep. 

EMIL.  Good  madam,  what's  the  matter  with  my 

lord? 

Zto..  With  who? 

EMIL.  Why,  with  my  lord,  madam. 

DES.  Who  is  thy  lord  ?9 
EMIL.  He  that  is  yours,  sweet  lady. 

DES.  I  have  none  :  Do  not  talk  to  me,  Emilia ; 
I  cannot  weep  ;  nor  answer  I  have  none, 
But  what  should  go  by  water.1     Pr'ythee,  to-night 
Lay  on  my  bed  my  wedding  sheets, — remember; — 
And  call  thy  husband  hither. 

EMIL.  Here  is  a  change,  indeed ! 

[Exit. 

9  Who  is  thy  lord?]  This,  and  the  following  speech,  are 
omitted  in  the  first  quarto.  STEEVENS. 

1 answer  I  have  none, 

But  ivhat  should  go  by  water.]  Camden  has  preserved  an 
Epitaph  on  Queen  Elizabeth,  which  concludes  with  a  similar 
conceit : 

"  I  think  the  barge-men  might  with  easier  thighs 

"  Have  rowed  her  thither  in  her  people's  eyes : 

"  For  how-so-ere,  thus  much  my  thoughts  have  scann'd , 

*'  Sh'ad  come  by  iwter,  had  she  come  by  land." 

Sl'EEVKNS. 

These  lines  are  to  be  found  in  Decker's  Wonderful  Yeare, 
1603,  and  probably  were  written  by  him.  They  are  not  as  an 
epitaph.  REED. 


sc.  n.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          463 

DES.  'Tis  meet  I  should  be  us'd  so,  very  meet. 
How  have  I  been  behav'd,  that  he  might  stick 
The  smallest  opinion  on  my  great'st  abuse  ?2 

Re-enter  EMILIA,  with  IAGO. 

I  AGO.  What  is  your  pleasure,  madam  ?  How  is 
it  with  you  ? 

DES.  I  cannot  tell.    Those,  that  do  teach  young 

babes, 

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  ? 

EMIL.  Alas,  lago,  my  lord  hath  so  bewhor'd  her, 
Thrown  such  despite  and  heavy  terms  upon  her, 
As  true  hearts  cannot  bear. 

DES.  Am  I  that  name,  lago  ? 

IAGO.  What  name,  fair  lady  ? 

DES.  Such  as,  she  says,  my  lord  did  say  I  was. 

EMIL.  He  call'd  her,  whore ;  a  beggar,  in  his 

drink, 
Could  not  have  laid  such  terms  upon  his  callet.3 

* on  my  great'st  abuse?~\   This  is  the  reading  of  the 

quarto,  1622,  which  Dr.  Johnson  thought  preferable  to  the  read- 
ing of  the  folio — on  my  least  misuse.     MALONE. 

3  — ' —  upon  his  callet.]  Callet  is  a  lewd  woman ;  so  called 
(says  Dr.  Grey)  from  the  French  calote,  which  was  a  sort  of 
head-dress  worn  by  country  girls.  This  head-dress  is  mentioned 
by  Ben  Jonson  in  his  Magnetick  Lady  : 

"  The  wearing  the  callot>  the  politick  hood." 
The  word  is  likewise  found  in  Cocke  Lorelles  Bote,  a  satyre, 
bl.  1.  printed  by  Wynkyn  de  Worde,  no  date  : 

"  Yf  he  call  her  calat,  she  calleth  hym  knave  agayne." 
On  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company  is  the  following 


464  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

I  AGO.  Why  did  he  so  ? 

DES.  I  do  not  know;  I  am  sure,  I  am  none  such. 

I  AGO.  Do  not  weep,  do  not  weep;  Alas,  the  day! 

EMIL.  Has  she  forsook  so  many  noble  matches, 
Her  father,  and  her  country,  and  her  friends, 
To  be  calPd — whore  ?  would  it  not  make  one  weep  ? 

DES.  It  is  my  wretched  fortune. 

I  AGO.  Beshrew  him  for  it ! 

How  comes  this  trick  upon  him  ? 

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  office, 
Have  not  devis'd  this  slander ;  I'll  be  hang'd  else. 

IAGO.  Fye,  there  is  no  such  man ;  it  is  impos- 
sible. 

DES.  If  any  such  there  be,  heaven  pardon  him ! 

EMIL.  A  halter  pardon  him !  and  hell  gnaw  his 
bones ! 

entry :   "  Recevyd  of  Alexandre  Lucye  for  his  lycence  for 

printinge   of  a   boke   intituled  the orders    of   Callets  or 

drabbys."     1563.     STEEVENS. 

suck  terms  upon  his  callet.]  This  word  is  of  great  anti- 
quity in  the  English  language.  Chaucer  has  it  in  his  Remedy  of 
Love : 

"  C,  for  calet,  for  of,  we  have  O, 

"  L,  for  leude,  D,  for  demeanure,"  &c.     PERCY. 

I  meet  with  this  word  in  the  translation  of  Ariosto,  1591 : 

"  And  thus  this  old  ill-favour'd  spiteful  callet — ." 
Harrington,  in  a  note  on  that  line,  says  that  "  callet  is  a  nick- 
name used  to  a  woman,"  and  that  "  in  Irish  it  signifies  a  witch." 
I  have  no  faith  in  Dr.  Grey's  etymology  of  this  word.  Calotc 
is  a  coif  or  light  cap,  worn  by  others  beside  country  girls. 

MALONE. 

Dr.  Grey's  etymology  is  taken  from  the  Glossary  to  Urry'a 
Chaucer.  REED. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          465 

Why  should  he  call  her,  whore  ?  who  keeps  her 

company  ? 

What  place  ?  what  time  ?  what  form  ?  what  likeli- 
hood ? 

The  Moor's  abus'd  by  some  most  villainous  knave,4 
Some  base  notorious 5  knave,  some  scurvy  fellow : — 
O,  heaven,  that  such  companions6  thou'dst  unfold ; 
And  put  in  every  honest  hand  a  whip, 
To  lash  the  rascal7  naked  through  the  world, 
Even  from  the  east  to  the  west ! 

I  AGO.  Speak  within  door.8 

EMIL.  O,  fye  upon  him !  some  such  squire  he  was, 
That  turn'd  your  wit  the  seamy  side  without,9 

4  some  most  villainous  knave,']     Thus  the  folio.     The 

quarto,  1622,  reads — some  outrageous  knave.     MALONE. 

" notorious — ]    For  gross,  not  in  its  proper  meaning  for 

known.     JOHNSON. 

0  suck  companions — 3    The  same  term  of  degradation 

has  already  occurred  and  been  explained  in  Julius  Cccsar.  See 
Vol.  XVI.  p.  384,  n.  7.  In  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II.  Vol.  XII. 
p.  86,  Dol  Tearsheet  also  says  to  Pistol : — "  I  scorn  you,  scurvy 
companion."  STEEVENS. 

Companion,  in  the  time  of  Shakspeare,  was  used  as  a  word  of 
contempt,  in  the  same  sense  as  fellow  is  at  this  day. 

So,  in  The  Widow's  Tears,  by  Chapman,  1612:  "  How  now, 
base  companion  ?" 

Again,  in  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  1605: 

"  And  better  'tis,  that  base  companions  die, 
"  Than  by  their  life  to  hazard  our  good  haps." 

MALONE. 

7  the  rascal — 1     Thus  the  quarto,  1622;  folio — rascals. 

Emilia  first  wishes  that  all  base  fellows  were  detected,  and  then 
that  heaven  would  put  a  whip  in  every  honest  hand  to  punish  in 
a  signal  manner  that  villainous  knave,  particularly  in  her  thoughts, 
who  had  abused  the  too  credulous  Moor.     MALONE. 

8  Speak  within  door."]     Do  not  clamour  so  as  to  be  heard 
beyond  the  house.     JOHNSON. 

°  the  seamy  side  ivithoui,~\     That  is,  inside  out. 

JOHNSON. 

VOL.  XIX.  2  H 


466  OTHELLO,  ACT  iv. 

And  made  you  to  suspect  me  with  the  Moor. 
IAGO.  You  are  a  fool ;  go  to. 

DES.  O  good  lago, 

What  shall  I  do  to  win  my  lord  again  ? 
Good  friend,  go  to  him ;  for,  by  this  light  of  heaven, 
I  know  not  how  I  lost  him.     Here  I  kneel : ' — 
If  e'er  my  will  did  trespass  'gainst  his  love, 
Either  in  discourse  of  thought,  or  actual  deed;2 
Or  that  mine  eyes,  mine  ears,  or  any  sense, 
Delighted  them  in  any  other  form  ; 
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  imkindness  may  defeat  my  life, 
But  never  taint  my  love.     I  cannot  say,  whore ; 
It  does  abhor  me,  now  I  speak  the  word ; 
To  do  the  act  that  might  the  addition  earn, 
Not  the  world's  mass  of  vanity  could  make  me. 

This  idea  has  already  occurred.     In  a  former  scene,  lago 
speaks  of  Roderigo  as  of  one — 

"  Whom  love  hath  turn'd  almost  the  wrong  side  outward." 

STEEVENS. 

1  Here  I  kneel:  £c.]   The  first  quarto  omits  these  words  and 
the  rest  of  the  speech.     STEEVENS. 

2  Either  in  discourse  of  thought,  or  actual  deed;~\     Thus  the 
old  copies.     So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  O  heaven !  a  beast,  that  wants  discourse  of  reason, 
"  Would  have  mourn'd  longer." 

The  modern  editors,  following  Mr.  Pope,  read — discourse,  or 
thought.     MALONE. 

Notwithstanding  the  instance  given  in  favour  of  the  old  read- 
ing, I  suspect,  on  the  authority  of  the  following  note,  that  Mr. 
.Pope's  correction  is  defensible.     STEEVENS. 

The  three  ways  of  committing  sin  mentioned  in  the  Catholick 
catechisms  are — -in  thought,  "word,  and  deed.     C. 

The  same  words  remain  in  our  Liturgy. 


sc.  n.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          467 

I  AGO.  I  pray  you,  be  content;  'tis  but  his  hu- 
mour ; 

The  business  of  the  state  does  him  offence, 
And  he  does  chide  with  you.3 

DES.  If  'twere  no  other, — 

I  AGO.  It  is  but  so,  I  warrant  you.       [Trumpets. 
Hark,  how  these  instruments  summon  to  supper ! 
And  the  great  messengers  of  Venice  stay  :4 
Go  in,  and  weep  not ;  all  things  shall  be  well. 

[  Exeunt  DESDEMONA  and  EMILIA. 


Enter  RODERIGO. 

How  now,  Roderigo  ? 

ROD.  I  do  not  find,  that  thou  deal'st  justly  with 
me. 

IAGO.  What  in  the  contrary  ? 

ROD.  Every  day  thou  doff'st  me  with  some  de- 
vice, lago ;  and  rather  (as  it  seems  to  me  now,) 
keep'st  from  me  all  conveniency,  than  suppliest  me 
with  the  least  advantage  of  hope.  I  will,  indeed, 
no  longer  endure  it :  Nor  am  I  yet  persuaded,  to 
put  up  in  peace  what  already  I  have  foolishly  suf- 
fered. 

3  and  he  does  chide  with  you.~\     This  line  is  from  the 

quarto,  1622.     STEF.VENS. 

To  chide  tvith  was  the  phraseology  of  the  time.  We  have,  I 
think,  the  same  phrase  in  one  of  our  poet's  Sonnets.  MALONE. 

The  same  phrase  indeed  occurs  in  p.  313,  but  perhaps  with  a 
somewhat  different  construction : 

"  And  chides  ivith  thinking."     STEEVENS. 

4  And  the  great  messengers  of  Venice  stay:]  Thus  the  quarto. 
The  folio  poorly  reads : 

The  messengers  of  Venice  stay  the  meat.     STEEVENS. 

2  H  2 


468  OTHELLO,  ACT  iv. 

IAGO.  Will  you  hear  me,  Roderigo  ? 

Ron.  'Faith,  I  have  heard  too  much ;  for  your 
words,  and  performances,  are  no  kin  together. 

IAGO.  You  charge  me  most  unjustly. 

ROD.  With  nought  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 
has  received  them,  and  returned  me  expectations 
and  comforts  of  sudden  respect  and  acquittance  ;5 
but  I  find  none. 

IAGO.  Well ;  go  to  ;  very  well. 

ROD.  Very  well !  go  to !  I  cannot  go  to,  man ; 
nor  'tis  not  very  well :  By  this  hand,  I  say,  it  is 
very  scurvy  ;  and  begin  to  find  myself  fobbed  in  it. 

IAGO.  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. 

IAGO.  You  have  said  now. 

ROD.  Ay,  and  I  have  said  nothing,  but  what  I 
protest  intendrnent  of  doing. 

IAGO.  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 

5  • and  acquittance;]     This  is  the  reading  of  the  original 

quarto,  1622.     The  folio  reads — and  acquaintance. 

Acquittance  is  requital.     So,  in  King  Henri/  V : 
"  And  shall  forget  the  office  of  our  hand 
"  Sooner  than  'quittance  of  desert  and  merit." 

See  also  Hamlet,  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  352,  n.  1.     MALONB, 

See  also  Vol.  IX.  p.  16,  n.  7.     >STEEVENS. 


sc.  if.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          469 

hand,  Roderigo :  Thou  hast  taken  against  me  a  most 
just  exception ;  but,  yet,  I  protest,  I  have  dealt  most 
directly  in  thy  affair. 

ROD.  It  hath  not  appeared. 

I  AGO.  I  grant,  indeed,  it  hath  not  appeared  ;  and 
your  suspicion  is  not  without  wit  and  judgment.6 
But,  Roderigo,  if  thou  hast  that  within  thee  indeed, 
which  I  have  greater  reason  to  believe  now  than 
ever, — I  mean,  purpose,  courage,  and  valour, — this 
night  show  it :  if  thou  the  next  night  following 
enjoyest  not  Desdemona,  take  me  from  this  world 
with  treachery,  and  devise  engines  for  my  life.7 

ROD.  Well,  what  is  it  ?  is  it  within  reason,  and 
compass  ? 

I  AGO.  Sir,  there  is  especial  commission 8  come  from 
Venice,  to  depute  Cassio  in  Othello's  place. 

ROD.  Is  that  true  ?  why,  then  Othello  and  Des- 
demona  return  again  to  Venice. 

IAGO.  O,  no  ;  he  goes  into  Mauritania,  and  takes 
away  with  him  the  fair  Desdemona,  unless  his  abode 
be  lingered  here  by  some  accident ;  wherein  none 
can  be  so  determinate,  as  the  removing  of  Cassio. 

c  your  suspicion  is  not  without  wit  and  judgment.]   Shak- 

speare  knew  well,  that  most  men  like  to  be  flattered  on  account 
of  those  endowments  in  which  they  are  most  deficient.  Hence 
lago's  compliment  to  this  snipe  on  his  sagacity  and  shrewdness. 

MALONE 

7  lake  me  from   this  world  nvith  treachery,  and  devise 

engines  for  my  life."]     To  devise  engines,  seems   to  mean,  to 
contrive  racks,  tortures,  &c.     RITSON. 

So,  in  King  Lear : 

" like  an  engine,  wrench'd  my  frame  of  nature." 

STEEVENS. 

8  there  is  especial  commission — ]      Shakspcare  probably 

wrote — a  special — .     MALONE. 


470  OTHELLO,  ACT  IY. 

ROD.  How  do  you  mean — removing  of  him  ? 

I  AGO.  Why,  by  making  him  uncapable  of  Othel- 
lo's place  ;  knocking  out  his  brains. 

ROD.  And  that  you  would  have  me  do  ? 

I  AGO.  Ay ;  if  you  dare  do  yourself  a  profit,  and 
a  right.  He  sups  to-night  with  a  harlot,9  and  thi- 
ther will  I  go  to  him ; — he  knows  not  yet  of  his 
honourable  fortune :  if  you  will  watch  his  going 
thence,  (which  I  will  fashion  to  fall  out  between 
twelve  and  one,)  you  may  take  him  at  your  plea- 
sure ;  I  will  be  near  to  second  your  attempt,  and 
he  shall  fall  between  us.  Come,  stand  not  amazed 
at  it,  but  go  along  with  me ;  I  will  show  you 
such  a  necessity  in  his  death,  that  you  shall  think 
yourself  bound  to  put  it  on  him.  It  is  now  high 
supper-time,1  and  the  night  grows  to  waste  :2  about 
it. 


9  He  sups  to-night  with  a  harlot,]  The  folio  reads — a  harlotry, 
which  may  be  right.  Our  author  has  the  expression — "  a  peevish 
self-will'd  harlotry"  in  two  plays.  RITSON. 

1  It  is  now  high  supper-time,^   I  believe  we  should  read : 

It  is  now  nigh  supper-time, — .     M.  MASON. 

The  old  reading  is  the  true  one.  There  is  no  phrase  more 
common  than — "  high  time  to  go  to  bed — to  get  up,"  &c.  High 
time,  isjfullf  complete  time. 

Thus  Spenser,  in  his  Fairy  Queen: 

"  High  time  now  'gan  it  wax  for  Una  fair 

"  To  think  of  those  her  captive  parents ." 

Again: 

"  High  time  it  is  this  war  now  ended  were." 
Clarendon  is  frequent  in  his  use  of  this  expression. 

STEEVENS. 

2  and  the  night  grows  to  waste:]    I  suppose  lago  means 

to  say,  that  it  is  near  midnight.     Perhaps  we  ought  to  print — 
waist.     Both  the  old  copies,  the  quarto,  1622,  and  the  folio, 
1623,  read — yeast,  which  was  the  old  spelling  of  Waist. 

So,  Hamlet: 

"  In  the  dead  wast  [wairf]  and  middle  of  the  night.'* 


ac.  in.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          471 

ROD.  I  will  hear  further  reason  for  this. 

IAGO.  And  you  shall,  be  satisfied.         [Exeunt. 


SCENE  III. 

Another  Room  in  the  Castle. 

/ 

Enter  OTHELLO,  LODOVICO,  DESDEMONA,  EMILIA, 
and  Attendants. 

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 
returned  forthwith  :  dismiss  your  attendant  there  j 
look,  it  be  done. 

DES.  I  will,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt  OTHELLO,  LODOVICO,  and  Attendants. 


See  note  on  that  passage,  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  45,  n.  3. 
See  also,  The  Puritan,  a  comedy,  1607  : 

"  . ere  the  day 

"  Be  spent  to  the  girdle,  thou  shalt  be  free." 
The  words,  however,  may  only  mean — the  night  is  wasting 
apace.     MALONE. 

The  last  is  certainly  the  true  explanation.     So,  in  Julius 
: 
"  Sir,  March  is  wasted  fourteen  days."     STEEVENS. 


472  OTHELLO,  ACT  IF. 

EMIL.  How  goes  it  now  ?  he  looks  gentler  than 
he  did. 

DES.  He  says,  he  will  return  incontinent ; 
He  hath  commanded  me  to  go  to  bed, 
And  bade  me  to  dismiss  you. 

EMIL.  Dismiss  me ! 

DES.  It  was  his  bidding ;  therefore,  good  Emilia, 
Give  me  my  nightly  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  stubbornness,his  checks,and  frowns, — 
Pr'ythee,  unpin  me, — have  grace  and  favour  in 
them. 

EMIL.  I  have  laid  those  sheets  you  bade  me  on 
the  bed. 

DES.  All's  one : — Good  father  !3  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, 

DES.  My  mother  had  a  maid  call'd — Barbara ; 

She  was  in  love ;  and  he,  she  lov'd,  prov'd  mad, 

And  did  forsake  her  :4  she  had  a  song  of — willow, 

3  Good  father .']     Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto,  1622, 

reads — all's  one,  good  faith.     MALONE. 

4  and  he,  she  lov'd,  prov'd  mad, 

And  did  for  sake  her:']   I  believe  that  mad  only  signifies  wild, 
frantick,  uncertain.     JOHNSON. 

Mad,  in  the  present  instance,  ought  to  mean — inconstant. 

RlTSON. 

We  still  call  a  wild  giddy  girl  a  mad-cap:  and,  in  The  First 
Part  of  King  Henry  VI.  are  mentioned: 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         473 

An  old  thing  'twas,  but  it  express'd  her  fortune, 
And  she  died  singing  it :  That  song,  to-night, 
Will  not  go  from  my  mind ;  I  have  much  to  do, 
But  to  go  hang  my  head5  all  at  one  side, 
And  sing  it  like  poor  Barbara.    Pr'ythee,  despatch. 

EMIL.  Shall  I  go  fetch  your  night-gown  ? 

DES.  No,  unpin  me  here. — 

This  Lodovico  is  a  proper  man. 

EMIL.  A  very  handsome  man. 

DES.  And  he  speaks  well. 

EMIL.  I  know  a  lady  in  Venice,  who  would  have 
walked  barefoot  to  Palestine,  for  a  touch  of  his 
nether  lip. 

"  Mad,  natural  graces  that  extinguish  art." 
Again,  in  The  ZW  Gentlemen  of  Verona : 

"  Come  on,  you  mad-cap." 

Again,    in   Love's  Labour's  Lost:    "Do  you  hear,   my  mad 
wenches  ?"     STEEVENS. 

s  I  have  much  to  do, 

But  to  go  hang  my  head — ~\    I  have  much  ado  to  do  any 
thing  but  hang  my  ^head.     We  might  read : 
Not  to  go  hang  my  head. 

This  is  perhaps  the  only  insertion  made  in  the  latter  editions 
which  has  improved  the  play.  The  rest  seem  to  have  been  added 
for  the  sake  of  amplification,  or  of  ornament.  When  the  ima- 
gination had  subsided,  and  the  mind  was  no  longer  agitated  by 
the  horror  of  the  action,  it  became  at  leisure  to  look  round  for 
specious  additions.  This  addition  is  natural.  Desdemona  can 
at  first  hardly  forbear  to  sing  the  song ;  she  endeavours  to  change 
her  train  of  thoughts,  but  her  imagination  at  last  prevails,  and 
she  sings  it.  JOHNSON. 

From  /  have  much  to  do,  to  Nay,  that's  not  next,  was  inserted 
after  the  first  edition,  as  was  likewise  the  remaining  part  of  the 
song.  STEEVENS. 


474  OTHELLO,  ACTIV. 

I. 

DBS.  The  poor  soul6  sat  sighing"*  by  a  sycamore 
tree,  [Singing. 

Sing  all  a  green  willow ; 8 
Her  hand  on  her  bosom ,  her  head  on  her  knee, 

Sing  willow,  willow,  willow  : 
The  fresh  streams'*  ran  by  her,  and  murmur*  d  her 

moans  • 

Sing  willow,  fyc. 
Her  salt  tears  fell  from  her,  and  softened  the  stones; 

Lay  by  these : 

Sing  willow,  willow,  willow; 
Pr'ythee,  hie  thee  ;  he'll  come  anon. — 

Sing  all  a  green  willow  must  be  my  gar- 
land. 


8  The  poor  soul  &c.]  This  song,  in  two  parts,  is  printed  in  a 
late  collection  of  old  ballads ;  the  lines  preserved  here  differ 
somewhat  from  the  copy  discovered  by  the  ingenious  collector. 

JOHNSON. 

7  sat  sighing — ]  The  folio  reads — singing.    The  passage, 

as  has  been  already  observed,  is  not  in  the  original  copy  printed 
in  1622.     The  reading  of  the  text  is  taken  from  a  quarto  of  no 
authority  printed  in  1630.     Sighing,  as  Mr.  Steevens  has  ob- 
served, is  also  the  reading  in  the  black-letter  copy  of  this  ballad, 
in  the  Pepys  Collection,  which  Dr.  Percy  followed.     See  The 
Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry,  Vol.  1. 192.     MALONE. 

8  Sing  all  a  green  tvilloiu;  &c.]     In  the  Gallery  of  Gorgious 
Inuentions,  &c.  4to.  1578,  there  is  also  a  song  to  which  the 
burden  is — 

"  Willow,  willow,  willow,  sing  all  of  green  willlow; 
"  Sing  all  of  greene  willow  shall  be  my  garland." 
Sig.  L.  ii.     STEEVENS. 

5  The  Jresh  streams  &c.]  These  lines  are  formed  with  some 
additions  from  two  couplets  of  the  original  song : 


sc.  m.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         475 

II. 

Let  nobody  blame  him,  his  scorn  I  approve^ — 

Nay,  that's  not  next. — Hark !  who  is  it  that  knocks? 
EMIL.  It  is  the  wind. 

DES.  /  call'd  my  love,  false  love  ;2  but  what  said 

he  then? 
Sing  willow,  fyc. 
If  I  court  mo  women,  you'll  couch  with  mo  men.3 

So,  get  thee  gone ;  good  night.    Mine  eyes  do  itch  ; 
Doth  that  bode  weeping  ? 

EMIL.  'Tis  neither  here  nor  there. 

"  The  cold  streams  ran  by  him,  his  eyes  wept  apace  ; 
O  willow,  &c. 

The  salt  tears  fell  from  him,  which  drowned  his  face ; 
O  willow,  &c. 

The  mute  birds  sate  by  him,  made  tame  by  his  mones; 
O  willow,  &c. 

The  salt  tears  fell  from  him,  which  soft  end  the  stones." 

MALONE. 

1  Let  nobody  blame  him,  his  scorn  I  approve,"]  in  the  original: 
"  Let  nobody  blame  me,  her  scorns  I  do  prove, 
"  O  willow,  &c. 
"  She  was  born  to  be  fair  ;  I  to  die  for  her  love." 

MALONE. 

*  /  call'd  my  love,  fahc  loves']  This  couplet  is  not  in  the 
ballad,  which  is  the  complaint,  not  of  a  woman  forsaken,  but 
of  a  man  rejected.  These  lines  were  properly  added  when  it 
was  accommodated  to  a  woman.  JOHNSON. 

3  you'll  couch  'with  mo  men.']    This  verb  is  found  also  in 

The  Tivo  Noble  Kinsmen,  1634: 

" O,  if  thou  couch 

"  But  one  night  with  her, ."     MALONE. 

It  is  used  likewise  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice: 

" couching  with  the  lawyer's  clerk."     STEEVEXS. 


476  OTHELLO,  ACT  iv. 

DES.  I  have  heard  it  said  so.4 — 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.  Would'st  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the 
world  ? 

EMIL.  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.  Would'st  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the 
world  ? 

EMIL.  The  world  is  a  huge  thing  :  'Tis  a  great 

price 
For  a  small  vice. 

DES.         Good  troth,  I  think  thou  would'st  not. 

EMIL.  By  my  troth,  I  think  I  should ;  and  un- 
do't,  when  I  had  done.  Marry,  I  would  not  do 
such  a  thing  for  a  joint-ring  ;5  nor  for  measures  of 

4  I  have  heard  it  said  so.~]    This,  as  well  as  the  following 
speech,  is  omitted  in  the  first  quarto.     STEEVENS. 

5  for  a  joint-ring  ;]     Anciently  a  common  token  among 

lovers.     They  are  mentioned  by  Burton  in  his  Anatomy  of  Me- 
lancholy, edit.  163^,  544 :   "  With  tokens,  hearts  divided,  and 
halfe  rings." 

The  nature  of  these  rings  will  be  best  explained  by  a  passage 
in  Dryden's  Don  Sebastian: 

" a  curious  artist  wrought  them, 

"  With  joints  so  close  as  not  to  be  perceiv'd  ; 

"  Yet  are  they  both  each  other's  counterpart : 

"  Her  part  had  Juan  inscrib'd,  and  his  had  Xayda, 

"  (You  know  those  names  are  theirs)  and,  in  the  midst, 

"  A  heart  divided  in  two  halves  was  plac'd. 

**  Now  if  the  rivets  of  those  rings  inclos'dj 


sc.  m.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE,         477 

lawn ;  nor  for  gowns,  petticoats,  nor  caps,  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  purgatorv 
for't. 

DES.  Beshrew  me,  if  I  would  do  such  a  wrong 
for  the  whole  world. 

EMIL.  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,6  as  would  store  the  world  thev 

O      y  »l 

play'd  for. 

.But,  I  do  think,7  it  is  their  husbands'  faults, 
If  wives  do  fall :  Say,  that  they  slack  their  duties, 
And  pour  our  treasures  into  foreign  laps  ; s 
Or  else  break  out  in  peevish  jealousies, 
Throwing  restraint  upon  us ;  or,  say,  they  strike  us, 
Or  scant  our  former  having9  in  despite  ; 
Why,  we  have  galls ;  and,  though  we  have  some 

grace, 
Yet  we  have  some  revenge.     Let  husbands  know, 

"  Fit  not  each  other,  I  have  forg'd  this  lye : 

"  But  if  they  join,  you  must  for  ever  part."    STEEVENS. 

fi  To  the  vantage,"]   i.  e.  to  boot,  over  and  above.     STEEVENS. 

7  But,  I  do  think,  &c.]    The  remaining  part  of  this  speech  is 
omitted  in  the  first  quarto.-    STEEVENS. 

8  And  pour  our  treasures  into  foreign  laps;"]   So,  in  one  of  our 
author's  Poems : 

"  Robb'd  other  beds'  revenues  of  their  rents." 

MA  LONE. 

9  our  former  having  — ]   Our  former  allowance  of  ex- 
pence.     JOHNSON. 


478  OTHELLO,  ACT  ir. 

Their  wives  have  sense  like  them : l  they  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  dotli  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  to.2 

DES.  Good  night,  good  night :  Heaven  me  such 

usage  send,3 
Not  to  pick  bad  from  bad ;  but,  by  bad,  mend ! 

\_Exeunt. 

1  have  sense  like  them:']     Sense  is  used  here,  as  in 

Hamlet,  for  sensation,  or  sensual  appetite.  See  Vol.  XVIII. 
p.  244,  n.  2.  MALONE. 

*  instruct  us  to.]     Mr.  Malone,  in  the  following  note, 

has  described  and  rejected  a  correction  which  I  have  received 
on  the  authority  of  the  following  passage  in  Pericles.  Till  this 
instant  I  had  supposed  this  passage  itself  to  need  amendment : 

"  Your  honour  and  your  goodness  teach  me  to  it." 
Perhaps  no  rhyme  was  intended.     STEEVENS. 

This  passage,  [in  Othello,']  as  has  been  already  observed,  is  not 
in  the  quarto,  1622.  The  reading  of  my  text  [so]  is  that  of  the 
folio,  1623.  The  modern  editors,  following  an  alteration  made 
by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  read — instrust  us  to.  Our  poet, 
for  the  sake  of  rhyme,  often  uses  an  uncommon  phraseology ;  I 
have  therefore  adhered  to  the  authentick  copy.  MALONE. 

1  Heaven  me  such  usage  send,~]   Such  uses  is  the  reading 

of  the  folio,  and  of  the  subsequent  editions;  but  the  old  quarto 
has, — such  usage  send.  Usage  is  an  old  word  for  custom,  and, 
I  think,  better  than  uses.  JOHNSON. 


ACT  v.      THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.  479 

ACT  V.     SCENE  I. 

A  Street. 
Enter  IAGO  and  RODERIGO. 

I  AGO.  Here,  stand  behind  this  bulk  ;  straight  will 

he  come : 

Wear  thy  good  rapier  bare,  and  put  it  home ; 
Quick,  quick  ;  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  near  at  hand  ;  I  may  miscarry  in't. 

IAGO.  Here,  at  thy  hand  ;  be  bold,  and  take  thy 
sword.          \_Retires  to  a  little  distance. 

ROD.  I  have  no  great  devotion  to  the  deed ; 
And  yet  he  has  given  me  satisfying  reasons  : — 
'Tis  but  a  man  gone  : — forth,  my  sword ;  he  dies. 

[Goes  to  his  stand. 

IAGO.  I  have  rubb'd  this  young  quat  almost  to 

the  sense, 
And  he  grows  angry.4  Now,  whether  he  kill  Cassio, 

4  /  have  rubb'd  this  young  quat  almost  to  the  sense, 

And  he  grows  angry. ~\  This  is  a  passage  much  controverted 
among  the  editors.  Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads  quab,  a  gudgeon;  not 
-that  a  gudgeon  can  be  rubbed  to  much  sense,  but  that  a  man 
grossly  deceived  is  often  called  a  gudgeon.  Mr.  Upton  reads — 
quail,  which  he  proves,  by  much  learning,  to  be  a  very  cho- 
lerick  bird.  Dr.  Warburton  retains  gnat,  which  is  found  in  the 
early  quarto.  Theobald  would  introduce  knot,  a  small  bird  of 
that  name.  I  have  followed  the  text  of  the  folio,  and  third  and 
fourth  quartos. 

A  quat  in  the  midland  counties  is  a  pimple,  which  by  rubbing 
is  made  to  smart,  or  is  rubbed  to  sense.     Roderigo  is  called  a 


480  OTHELLO,  ACT  7. 

Or  Cassio  him,  or  each  do  kill  the  other, 
Every  way  makes  my  gain  :5  Live  Roderigo, 
He  calls  me  to  a  restitution  large 
Of  gold,  and  jewels,  that  I  bobb'd  from  him,6 
As  gifts  to  Desdemona  ; 
It  must  not  be :  if  Cassio  do  remain, 
He  hath  a  daily  beauty  in  his  life, 
That  makes  me  ugly ;  and,  besides,  the  Moor 
May  unfold  me  to  him ;  there  stand  I  in  much 
peril : 

quat  by  the  same  mode  of  speech,  as  a  low  fellow  is  now  termed 
in  low  language  a  scab.  To  rub  to  the  sense,  is  to  rub  to  the 
quick.  JOHNSON. 

The  same  explanation  appeared  in  The  British  Magazine, 
p.  425,  in  the  year  1748.  REED. 

So,  in  The  Devil's  Law  Case,  1623 :  "  O  young  quat !  incon- 
tinence is  plagued  in  all  creatures  in  the  world." 

Again,  in  Decker's  Gul's  Hornbook,  1609:  "  —  whether  he 
be  a  yong  quat  of  the  first  yeeres  revennew,  or  some  austere  and 
sullen-fac'd  steward,"  &c. 

Such  another  thought  occurs  in  Ben  Jonson's  Catiline: 

" must  have  their  disgraces  still  new  rubb'd, 

"  To  make  them  smart,"  &c. 

Again,  in  the  Preface  to  Robert  Dallington's  Method  of 
Travel,  shelved  by  taking  the  Vieiu  of  France,  as  it  stood  in  the 
Yeare  of  our  Lord,  1598:  "  —  and  be  assured  that  where  it 
rubbeth  the  French  itche  till  it  smart,  &c. 

Again,  in  Chapman's  translation  of  Homer's  Batrachomuo- 
machia: 

"  And  this  it  is  that  rubs  the  angry  sore 
"  Of  my  offence ."     STEEVENS. 

s  my  gain:]    The  quartos  read — my  game.     STEEVENS. 

0  that  I  bobb'd  from  him~]     That  \fooTd  him  out  of. 

A  bob  formerly  signified  a  mock,  or  jeer.  Cole  renders  it  in  his 
Dictionary,  1679,  by  xanna,  as  he  does  bobb'd  b}'  illusus. 

MALONE. 

To  bob  for  fish  is  likewise  a  technical  term  among  those  who 
delight  in  angling.  Thus,  in  a  well-known  line  describing  a 
giant's  occupation : 

"  He  sat  upon  a  rock,  and  bobb'd  for  whales." 

STEEVENS. 


sc.i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          481 

No,  he  must  die : — But  so,  I  hear  him  coming. 

Enter  CASSIO. 

< 

ROD.  I  knowhis  gait,'tishe; — Villain,  thou  diest. 
[Rushes  from  his  post,  and  makes  a  pass  at 
CASSIO. 

CAS.  That  thrust  had  been  mine  enemy  indeed, 
But  that  my  coat  is  better  than  thou  think'st ; 
I  will  make  proof  of  thine. 

[Draws,  and  wounds  RODERIGO. 

ROD.  O,  I  am  slain ! 

[I AGO  rushes  from  his  post,  cuts  CASSIO  behind 
in  the  Leg,1  and  exit. 

CAS.  I  am  maim'd  for  ever : — Help,  ho !  murder! 
murder !  [Falls. 

Enter  OTHELLO,  at  a  distance. 

OTH.   The  voice  of  Cassio : — lago  keeps  his 
word. 

ROD.  O,  villain  that  I  am  ! 

OTH.  Hark !  'tis  even  so. 

CAS.  O,  help  !  ho !  light !  a  surgeon ! 

OTH.  'Tis  he; — O  brave  lago,  honest,  and  just, 
That  hast  such  noble  sense  of  thy  friend's  wrong ! 
Thou  teachest  me, — Minion,  your  dear  lies  dead, 
And  your  fate  hies  apace  : 8 — Strumpet,  I  come  : 

7 in  the  leg,~\  lago  maims  Cassio  in  the  leg,  in  conse- 
quence of  what  he  had  just  heard  him  say,  from  which  he  sup- 
posed that  his  body  was  defended  by  some  secret  armour. 

MALONE. 

8  And  your  fate  hies  apace :]  Thus  the  first  quarto.  The 
second  quarto  and  the  folio  read — And  your  unblest  fate  hies. 

STKEVENS. 

^'OL,  XIX.  2  I 


482  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

Forth  of  nay  heart9  those  charms,  thine  eyes  are 

blotted ; 
Thy  bed,  lust-stain'd,  shall  with  lust's  blood  be 

spotted.  [Exit  OTHELLO. 


Enter  LODOVICO  and  GRATIANO,  at  a  distance. 

CAS.  What,  ho !  no  watch  ?  no  passage  ? !  mur- 
der! murder! 

GRA.  'Tis  some  mischance ;  the  cry  is  very  dire- 
ful. 


9  Forth  of  my  heart  &c.]  Thus  the  first  quarto.  The  folio 
reads — For  •of,  STEEVENS. 

Mr,  Whalley  observes  to  me  that  the  reading  of  the  quarto  is 
the  true  one.  Forth  signifies  both  out  and  from.  So,  in  Hamlet : 

"  Forth  at  your  eyes  your  spirits  wildly  peep.'* 
Again,  in  Jonson*s  Volpone: 

**  Forth  the  resolved  corners  of  his  eyes." 
•Mr.  Henley  tad  ulso  made  the  same  observation,  and  in  proof 
of  it  produced  the  following  passages  from  King  Richard  III: 
"  I  clothe  my  naked  villainy 
"  With  old  odd  ends,  stol'n  forth  of  holy  writ." 
Again: 

"  'Faith,  none  but  Humphrey  Houre,  that  call'd  your 

grace, 
"  To  breakfast  once,  forth  of  my  company."     REED. 

For  off  [once  proposed  by  Mr.  Steevens]  is  the  conjectural 
reading  introduced  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  and  is  one 
of  a  thousand  proofs  of  capricious  alterations  made  in  that  copy, 
without  any  regard  to  the  most  ancient  editions.  The  original 
reading  is  undoubtedly  the  true  one.  So,  in  Mount  Tabor,  or 
the  Private  Exercises  of  a  Penitent  Sinner,  1639 :  **  —  whilst 
all  this  was  acting,  there  came  forth  of  another  door  at  the  far- 
thest end  of  the  stage,  two  old  men,"  &c.  MALONE. 

1 no  passage  f]  No  passengers  ?  nobody  going  by  ? 

JOHNSON. 

So,  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors  : 

"  Now  in  the  stirring  passage  of  the  day."     STEEVENS. 


sc.  /.         THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE. 

> 

CAS.  O,  help ! 

Lop.  Hark ! 

MOD.  O  wretched  villain  ! 

Lox>.  Two  or  three  groans ; — it  is  a  heavy  night:2 
These  may  be  counterfeits ;  let's  think't  unsafe 
To  come  in  to  the  cry,  without  more  help. 

ROD.  No  body  come?  then  shall  I  bleed  to  death. 

Enter  IAGO,  with  a  flight. 

LOD.  Hark! 

GRA.  Here's  one  comes  in  his  shirt,  with  light 
and  weapons. 

IAGO.  Who's  there  ?  whose  noise  is  this,  that 
cries  on  murder  ?3 

8 a  heavy  night:"]     A  thick  cloudy  night,  in  which  an 

ambush  may  be  commodiously  laid.     JOHNSON. 

So,  in  Measure  for  Measure; 

"  Upon  the  heavy  middle  of  the  night.'*     STEEVENS. 

3 "whose  noise  is  this,  that  cries  on  murder?"]     Thus  the 

quarto,  1622,  and  the  folio,  1623 ;  and  such  was  the  phrase- 
ology of  Shakspeare's  age.  So,  in  Eastward  Hoe,  a  comedy, 
1605: 

"  Who  cries  on  murder  ?  lady,  was  it  you  ?" 

That  line  is  a  parody  on  one  in  The  Spanish  Tragedy. — The 
editor  of  the  second  folio,  who  altered  whatever  he  did  not  un- 
derstand, for  cries  on,  substituted  cries  out,  and  has  been  fol- 
lowed by  all  the  modern  editors.  MALONE. 

To  "  cry  on"  any  thing,  is  not,  I  believe,  a  phrase  more  an- 
cient than  to  "  cry  out"  on  any  thing.  In  King  Henry  IF.  P. 
II.  these  prepositions  act  together  in  one  line : 

"  And  that  same  word  even  now  cries  out  on  us." 
Perhaps  they  would  both  also  have  been  employed  in  the  passage 
under  consideration,  but  that  the  structure  of  our  author's  verse 
required  only  one  of  them. — I  mention  these  circumstances, 
that  the  enormous  guilt  of  the  second  folio,  and  its  copiers,  may 
be  in  some  degree  extenuated.  STEEVENS. 

2  I  2 


484  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

LOD.  We  do  not  know. 

I  AGO.  Did  you  not  hear  a  cry  ? 

CAS.  Here,  here ;  for  heaven's  sake,  help  me. 
IAGO.  What's  the  matter  ? 

GRA.  This  is  Othello's  ancient,  as  I  take  it. 
LOD.  The  same,  indeed ;  a  very  valiant  fellow. 
IAGO.  What  are  you  here  that  cry  so  grievously  ? 

CAS.  lago  ?  O,  I  am  spoil'd,  undone  by  villains ! 
Give  me  some  help. 

IAGO.  O  me,  lieutenant !  what  villains  have  done 
this  ? 

CAS.  I  think,  that  one  of  them  is  hereabout, 
And  cannot  make  away. 

IAGO.  O  treacherous  villains ! — 

What  are  you  there  ?  come  in,  and  give  some  help, 

[To  LODOVICO  and  GRATIANO. 

HOD.  O,  help  me  here ! 
CAS.  That's  one  of  them. 

IAGO.  O  murderous  slave  !  O  villain ! 

[!AGO  stabs  RODERIGO. 

ROD.  O  damn'd  lago !  O  inhuman  dog ! — 
O!  O!  O! 

IAGO.    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. 

IAGO*  Signior  Lodovico  ? 


—  are  you  of  good,  or  evil?']   So,  in  Hamlet: 
"  Art  thou  a  spirit  of'health ?  or  goblin  damn'd?" 

STEEVENS. 


sc.  i.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          485 

LOD.  He,  sir. 

IAGO.        I  cry  you  mercy  j  Here's  Cassio  hurt 
By  villains. 

GRA.        Cassio  ? 

IAGO.  How  is  it,  brother  ? 

CAS.  My  leg  is  cut  in  two. 
IAGO.  Marry,  heaven  forbid ! — 

Light,  gentlemen ;  I'll  bind  it  with  my  shirt. 

Enter  BIANCA. 

BIAN.  What  is  the  matter,  ho?  who  is't  that 
cry'd  ? 

IAGO.  Who  is't  that  cry'd  ? 

BIAN.  O  my  dear  Cassio !  my  sweet  Cassio ! 
O  Cassio !  Cassio !  Cassio ! 

IAGO.  O  notable  strumpet ! — Cassio,  may  you 

suspect 
Who  they  should  be,  that  have  thus  mangled  you  ? 

CAS.  No. 

GRA.  I  am  sorry,  to  find  you  thus  :  I  have  been 
to  seek  you. 

IAGO.  Lend  me  a  garter  :5  So. — O,  for  a  chair, 
To  bear  him  easily  hence ! 

BIAN.  Alas,  he  faints: — O  Cassio!  Cassio!  Cassio! 

IAGO.  Gentlemen  all,  I  do  suspect  this  trash 
To  be  a  party  in  this  injury.6 — 

*  Lend  me  a  garter:  &c.]    This  speech  is  omitted  in  the  first 
quarto.     STEEVENS. 

6  To  be  a  party  in  this  injury.']   Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto, 
1622,  reads — to  bear  a  part  in  this.     STEEVENS. 


486  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

Patience  a  while,  good  Cassio. — Come,  come ; 
Lend  me  a  light.—  Know  we  this  face,  or  no  ? 
Alas !  my  friend,  and  my  dear  countryman,7 
Roderigo  ?  no : — Yes,  sure  ;  O  heaven  !  Roderigo. 

GRA.  What,  of  Venice  ? 

IAGO.  Even  he,  sir ;  did  you  know  him  ? 

GRA.  Know  him  ?  ay. 

IAGO.  Signior  Gratiano  ?  I  cry  you  gentle  par- 
don; 

These  bloody  accidents  must  excuse  my  manners, 
That  so  neglected  you. 

GRA.  I  am  glad  to  see  you. 

IAGO.  How  do  you,  Cassio  ?< — O,  a  chair,  a  chair! 

GRA.  Roderigo! 

IAGO.  He,  he,  'tis  he: — O,  that's  well  said; — 
the  chair : —         \_A  Chair  brought  in. 
Some  good  man  bear  him  carefully  from  hence ; 
I'll  fetch  the  general's  surgeon. — For  you,  mistress, 

[To  BIANCA. 
Save  you  your  labour. — He  that  lies  slain  here, 

Cassio, 

Was  my  dear  friend :  What  malice  was  between 
you? 

CAS.  None  in  the  world;  nor  do  I  know  the  man. 

IAGO.  [To  BIAK.]  What,  look  you  pale? — O, 
bear  him  out  o'the  air. — 

[CASSIO  and  ROD.  are  borne  off. 
Stay  you,  good  gentlemen  :* — Look  you  pale,  mis- 
tress ? 

7  Alas!  my  friend,  and  my  dear  countryman,]   This  passage 
incontestably  proves  that  Jago  was  meant  for  a  Venetian. 

STEEVEKS. 

8 good  gentlemen :]     Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto  reads 

— gentlewoman.     STEEVENS. 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          487 

Do  you  perceive  tbe  gastaess9  of  her  eye  ?rm 
Nay,  if  you  stare,1  we  shall  hear  moire-  anon  : — 
Behold  her  well  j  I  pray  you,  look  upon  her ; 
Do  you  see,  gentlemen  ?  nay,  guiltiness  will  speak, 
Though  tongues  were  out  of  use.2 

Enter  EMILIA. 

EMIL.  'Las,  what's  the  matter ;  what's  the  mat- 
ter, husband  ? 

IAGO.  Cassio  hath  here  been  set  on  in  the  dark, 
By  Roderigo,  and  fellows  that  are  scap'd ; 
He's  almost  slain,  and  Roderigo  dead. 

EMIL.  Alas,  good  gentlemen !  alas,  good  Cassio ! 

That  the  original  is  the  true  reading,  may  be  collected  from 
the  situation  and  feelings  of  the  parties  on  the  scene.  No  reason 
can  be  assigned  why  Lodovico  and  Gratiano  should  immediately 

Juit  the  spot  where  they  now  are,  before  they  had  heard  from 
ago  further  particulars  of  the  attack  on  Cassio,  merely  because 
Cassio  was  borne  off:  whereas,  on  the  other  hand,  his  mistress, 
Bianca,  who  has  been  officiously  offering  him  assistance,  would 
naturally  endeavour  to  accompany  him  to  his  lodgings. 

M  ALONE. 

There  seems  to  me  to  be  a  very  good  reason  assignable  why 
these  two  gentlemen  should  immediately  quit  the  spot  on  Cassio's 
being  borne  off,  viz.  to  assist  him  or  see  him  properly  taken  care 
of,  rather  than  to  stay  and  gratify  their  curiosity.  Respect  for 
the  person  appointed  Othello's  successor,  if  not  personal  regard, 
would,  I  should  think,  naturally  have  dictated  such  a  proceed- 
ing, had  they  not  been  stopped  by  lago's  desiring  them  not  to 
go.  REED. 

9 the  gastness — ]     So,  the  folio.     The  quartos  read — 

jestures.     STEEVENS. 

1  Nay,  if  you  stare,]  So,  the  folio.     The  quartos  read — stirre. 

STEEVENS. 

*         •  guiltiness  will  speak , 

Though  tongues  were  out  of  use.~]   So,  in  Hamlet: 
"  For  murder,  though  it  have  no  tongue,  will  speak 
"  With  most  miraculous  organ."     .STEEVENS. 


488  OTHELLO,  ACT  r. 

IAGO.  This  is  the  fruit  of  whoring. — Pr'ythee, 

Emilia, 

Go  know  of  Cassio  where  he  supp'd  to-night:3 — 
What,  do  you  shake  at  that  ? 

BIAN.  He  supp'd  at  my  house ;  but  I  therefore 
shake  not. 

IAGO.  O,  did  he  so  ?  I  charge  you,  go  with  me. 
EMIL.  Fye,  fye  upon  thee,  strumpet ! 

BIAN.  I  am  no  strumpet ;  but  of  life  as  honest, 
As  you  that  thus  abuse  me. 

EMIL.  As  I  ?  foh  !  fye  upon  thee ! 

IAGO.  Kind  gentlemen,  let's  go  see  poor  Cassio 

dress' d : — 

Come,  mistress,  you  must  tell  us  another  tale.— 
Emilia,  run  you  to  the  citadel, 
And  tell  my  lord  and  lady  what  has  happ'd. — 


3  — —  Pr'ythee,  Emilia, 

Go  Icnoui  of  Cassio  where  he  supp'd  to-night:"]  In  the  last 
scene  of  the  preceding  Act  lago  informs  Roderigo,  that  Cassio 
was  to  sup  with  Bianca  ;  that  he  would  accompany  Cassio  to  her 
house,  and  would  take  care  to  bring  him  away  from  thence  be- 
tween twelve  and  one.  Cassio  too  had  himself  informed  lago, 
Act  IV.  sc.  i.  that  he  would  sup  with  Bianca,  and  lago  had  pro- 
mised to  meet  him  at  her  house.  Perhaps,  however,  here  lago 
chose  to  appear  ignorant  of  this  fact,  conscious  that  he  had  way- 
laid Cassio,  and  therefore  desirous  of  being  thought  ignorant  of 
his  motions  during  the  evening.  MALONE. 

Yet,  how  happens  it,  that  Bianca,  instead  of  replying — He 
supp'd  &c.  did  not  answer,  addressing  herself  to  lago : 

Why^  you  well  know, 
He  supp'd  Sfc  ? 

The  former  line  being  imperfect,  some  such  words  might  have 
been  omitted.  Or  perhaps,  our  author  was  unwilling  that  Bianca 
should  say  in  the  presence  of  lago's  wife,  that  he  too  had  been 
of  Cassio's  supper-party ;  and  hence  this  seeming  inconsistency. 

STEEVENS. 


ac.  n.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         489 

Will  you  go  on,  I  pray  ? — This  is  the  night,  [Aside. 
That  either  makes  me,  or  fordoes  me  quite.4 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 

A  Bedchamber:   DESDEMONA  in  bed  asleep.    A 
Light  burning. 

Enter  OTHELLO. 

OTH.  It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause,  my  soul, — 
Let  me  not  name  it5  to  you,  you  chaste  stars  !6 — 

4  or  fordoes  me  guite.~]     To  fordo,  is  to  undo,  to  ruin, 

to  destroy.     So,  in  Hamlet: 

" did,  with  desperate  hand, 

"  Fordo  its  own  life."  * 

Again,  in  the  Interlude  of  Jacob  and  Esau,  1578  : 

"  If  God  were  so  pleased,  I  would  that  werefordonne." 

STEEVENS. 

See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  102,  n.  2.     MALONE. 

*  It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause,  my  soul, — 

Let  me  not  name  it — ]  The  abruptness  of  this  soliloquy 
makes  it  obscure.  The  meaning,  I  think,  is  this : — I  am  here 
(says  Othello  in  his  mind)  overwhelmed  with  horror.  What  is 
the  reason  of  this  perturbation  ?  Is  it  want  of  resolution  to  do 
justice?  Is  it  the  dread  of  shedding  blood?  No;  it  is  not  the 
action  that  shocks  me,  but  it  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause,  my 
soul;  let  me  not  name  it  to  you, ye  chaste  stars!  it  is  the  cause. 

JOHNSON. 

Othello,  full  of  horror  at  the  cruel  action  which  he  is  about 
to  perpetrate,  seems  at  this  instant  to  be  seeking  his  justification, 
from  representing  to  himself  the  cause,  i.  e.  the  greatness  of  the 
provocation  he  had  received.  He  may,  however,  mean — It  is 
the  cause  of  chastity  and  virtue,  that  I  maintain.  STEEVENS. 

6  you  chaste  stars!']     For  the  epithet — chaste,  applied 

to  the  stars,  there  is  perhaps  no  classical  authority.  Statius, 
when  Achilles,  disguised  in  a  female  habit,  had  proved  his  man- 
hood on  Deidamia,  observes  that — 


490  OTHELLO,  ACT  r, 

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. 

[Takes  off  his  Sword. 

Yet  she  must  die,  else  she'll  betray  more  men.7 
Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light  :8 

" risit  chorus  omnis  ab  alto 

"  Astrorum,  et  tenerae  rubuerunt  cornua  Lunce." 
Hence  we  may  infer  that  an  occurrence  offensive  to  the  moon, 
was  anciently  supposed  to  put  the  less  prudish  stars  ( "  Diana's 
waiting-women")  in  good  humour.     STEEVENS. 

7  Yet  she  must  die,  else  she'll  betray  more  men."]     This  is  the 
second  attempt  of  Othello  to  justify  Avhat  he  has  undertaken. 
First  he  says,  It  is  the  cause,  i.  e.  his  own  cause;  now  he  is 
willing  to  suppose  himself  the  preventer  of  mischief  to  others. 

STEEVENS. 

8  Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light  .•]    It  should  be 
thus  printed : 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then — Put  out  the  light! 
The  meaning  is,  I  will  put  out  the  light,  and  then  proceed  to  the 
execution  of  my  purpose.  But  the  expression  of  putting  out  the 
light,  bringing  to  mind  the  effects  of  the  extinction  of  the  light 
of  life,  he  breaks  short,  and  questions  himself  about  the  effects 
of  this  metaphorical  extinction,  introduced  by  a  repetition  of  his 
first  words,  as  much  as  to  say, — But  hold,  let  me  first  weigh  the 
reflections  which  this  expression  so  naturally  excites. 

WARBURTON. 

This  has  been  considered  as  a  very  difficult  line.  Fielding 
makes  Betterton  and  Booth  dispute  about  it  with  the  author  hint' 
self  in  the  other  world.  The  punctuation  recommended  by  Dr. 
Warburton,  gives  a  spirit,  to  it  which  I  fear  was  not  intended. 
It  seems  to  have  been  only  a  play  upon  words.  To  put  the  light 
out  was  a  phrase  for  to  kill.  In  The  Maid's  Tragedy,  Melantius 
says: 

" 'Tis  a  justice,  and  a  noble  one, 

"  To  put  the  light  out  of  such  base  offenders." 

FARMER. 

This  phrase  is  twice  used  in  Sidney's  Arcadia,  for  killing  a 
lady,  p.  460  and  470,  edit.  1633. 

Again,  in  an  unpublished  play  called  The  Second  Maiden's 
Tragedy,  by  George  Chapman,  licensed  by  Sir  George  Buc, 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          491 

If  I  quench  thee,  thou  flaming  minister, 
I  can  again  thy  former  light  restore, 


October  3l5t,   1611:  (now  in  the  library  of  the  Marquis  of 
Lansdowne,  who  honoured  me  with  the  use  of  it:) 

O  soul  of  cunning ! 

Came  that  arch  subtilty  from  thy  lady's  counsel, 
Or  thine  own  sudden  craft?  confess  to  me 
How  oft  thou  hast  been  a  bawd  to  their  close  actions, 
Or  all  thy  light  goes  out."     STEEVENS. 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light:']  This  is  one  of 
the  passages  to  which  1  alluded  in  a  note  on  As  you  like  it, 
Vol.  VIII.  p.  191,  in  which,  by  a  modern  regulation,  our  poet's 
words  have  obtained  a  meaning,  which  in  my  opinion  was  not  in 
his  thoughts.  Mr.  Upton  was  the  first  person  who  introduced 
the  conceit  in  this  line,  which  has  been  adopted  since  his  book 
appeared,  by  pointing  it  thus : 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then — Put  out  the  light!  &c. 
I  entirely  agree  with  Dr.  Farmer,  that  this  regulation  gives  a 
spirit  to  this  passage  that  was  not  intended.  The  poet,  I  think, 
meant  merely  to  say, — "  I  will  now  put  out  the  lighted  taper 
which  I  hold,  and  then  put  out  the  light  of  life  ;"  and  this  in- 
troduces  his  subsequent  reflection  and  comparison,  just  as  aptly, 
as  supposing  the  latter  words  of  the  line  to  be  used  in  the  same 
sense  as  in  the  beginning  of  it,  which  cannot  be  done  without 
destroyin^  that  equivoque  and  play  of  words  of  which  Shakspeare 
was  so  fond. 

There  are  few  images  which  occur  more  frequently  in  his 
Works  than  this.  Thus,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  III.  the  dying 
Clifford  says : 

"  Here  burns  my  candle  out,  ay,  here  it  dies." 
Again,  in  Macbeth: 

"  Out,  out,  brief  candle!" 
Again,  in  King  Henry  VIII: 

"  This  candle  burns  not  clear ;  'tis  I  must  snuff  it ; 

"  Then  out  it  goes." 
Again,  in  his  Rape  of  Lucrece  : 

"  Fair  torch,  burn  out  thy  light,  and  lend  it  not 

"  To  darken  her,  whose  light  excelleth  thine !" 
Let  the  words  —  put  out  her  light,  stand  for  a  moment  in  the 
place  of — darken  her,  and  than  the  sentence  will  run — Burn  out 
thy  light,  fair  torch,  and  lend  it  not  to  put  out  her  light,  whose 
light  is  more  excellent  than  thine.  In  the  very  same  strain,  says 
Othello,  let  mejirst  extinguish  the  light  I  now  hold,  and  then 


492  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

Should  I  repent  me  : — but  once  put  out  thine,9 
Thou  cunning* st  pattern  of  excelling  nature,1 
I  know  not  where  is  that  Promethean  heat, 
That  can  thy  light  relume.2  When  I  have  pluck*  d 

thy  rose,3 

I  cannot  give  it  vital  growth  again, 
It  needs  must  wither : — I'll  smell  it  on  the  tree. — 

[Kissing  her. 

O  balmy  breath,  that  dost  almost  persuade 
Justice  to  break  her  sword ! — One  more,  one  more, — 

put  out  the  light  of  life.  But  how  different  in  effect  and  impor- 
tance are  these  two  acts!  The  extinguished  taper  can  be  lighted 
again,  but  the  light  of  life,  when  once  extinguished,  can  never, 
alas,  be  relumined! 

The  question  is  not,  which  regulation  renders  the  passage  most 
elegant  and  spirited,  but  what  was  the  poet's  idea. — I  believe, 
however,  that  Shakspeare  wrote — and  then  put  out  thy  light; 
and  the  reading  of  the  original  copy  in  a  subsequent  line,  " — but 
once  put  out  thine"  seems  to  me  to  countenance  this  emendation. 

In  The  Merchant  of  Venice  the  word  light  is  used  with  equal 
ambiguity: 

"  Let  me  give  light,  but  let  me  not  be  light." 

MALONE. 

9 put  out  thine,]     Thus  the  quarto.     The  folio  reads — 

put  out  thy  light.  I  have  chosen  the  former  reading  for  the  sake 
of  measure,  and  to  escape  a  useless  repetition  of  the  word — light. 

STEEVENS. 

1  Thou  cunning' st pattern  of  excelling  nature,"]  So,  in  Palme- 
rin  D 'Olivia,  1.588,  p.  1 :  " — those  that  beheld  her,  esteemed 
her  for  the  chiefest  piece  of  workmanshipp  that  ever  nature 
framed."  REED. 

*  That  can  thy  light  relume.]     Thus   the  folio.     The  first 
quarto — return:  the  second  quarto — relumine.     STEEVENS. 
Our  poet  has  illume  for  illuminate,  in  Hamlet : 

"  Had  made  his  course,  to  illume  that  part  of  heaven, 
"  Where  now  it  burn's."     MALONE. 

3 thy  rose,"]  Thus  the  folio.  The  quarto  reads, — the  rose. 

Again,  the  quarto  reads  : 

" I'll  smell  it  on  the  tree." 

The  folio : 

"  I'll  smell  thee  on  the  tree."     STEEVENS. 


sc.  n.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         49* 

Be  thus  when  thou  art  dead,  and  I  will  kill  thee, 
And  love  thee  after : — One  more,  and  this  the 

last : 

So  sweet  was  ne'er  so  fatal.     I  must  weep, 
But  they  are  cruel  tears :  This  sorrow's  heavenly,4 
It  strikes,  where  it  doth  love. — She  wakes — 

DES.  Who's  there  ?  Othello  ? 

OTH.  Ay,  Desdemona. 

DES.  .Will  you  come  to  bed,  my  lord  ? 

OTH.  Have  you  pray'd  to-night,  Desdemona  ? 

DES.  Ay,  my  lord. 

OTH.  If  you  bethink  yourself  of  any  crime, 
Unreconcil'd  as  yet  to  heaven  and  grace, 
Solicit  for  it  straight. 

DES.  Alas,  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  forefend! — I  would  not  kill  thy  soul.5 

4 This  sorrow's  heavenly  ;~]  This  tenderness,  with  which 

I  lament  the  punishment  which  justice  compels  me  to  inflict,  is 
a  holy  passion. 

I  wish  .these  two  lines  could  be  honestly  ejected.  It  is  the 
fate  of  Shakspeare  to  counteract  his  own  pathos.  JOHNSON. 

Perhaps  the  poet  would  not  have  retained  both  these  images, 
had  he  published  the  play  himself,  though  in  the  hurry  of  com- 
position he  threw  them  both  upon  paper.  The  first  seems 
adopted  from  the  fabulous  history  of  the  crocodile,  the  second 
from  a  passage  in  the  scripture.  STEEVENS. 

"  Whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth."     M.  MASON. 

5 I  ivould  not  kill  thy  soul.']  So,  in  the  First  Part  of  the 

Straunge  and  Wonderful  Adventures  of  Don  Simonides,  &c. 
bl.  1.  4to.  1581  :  "  —  for  that  her  Master  would  putte  her  Mistris 
to  shrifte,  before  he  destroyed  her  bodie,  yet  to  the  savegarde  of 
her  .wide." 

Sir  W.  D' Avenant  has  also  borrowed  this  thought  in  his  Albo- 
vine  King  of  Lombardy,  1629  : 


4,94  OTHELLO,  ACT  7. 

DES.  Talk  you  of  killing  ? 

OTH.  Ay,  I  do. 

DES.  Then,  heaven 

Have  mercy  on  me ! 

OTH.  Amen,  with  all  my  heart ! 

DES.  If  you  say  so,  I  hope  you  will  not  kill  me. 

OTH.  Humph  ! 

DES.  And  yet  I  fear  you ;  for  you  are  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.6 

OTH.  Think  on  thy  sins. 

DES.  They  are  loves  I  bear  to  you. 

OTH.  Ay,  and  for  that  thou  diest. 

DES.   That   death's   unnatural,   that  kills  for 
loving.7 — 

"  I  am  not  fraught  with  devil's  spleen ;  I  would 

"  Not  hurt  thy  soul." 

Othello  appears  to  have  been  a  favourite  of  his  author ;  for  he 
has  bestowed  on  him  that  piety  which  he  had  refused  to  Hamlet. 
See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  231,  n.  1.  STEEVENS. 

*  Since  guiltiness  /  knotv  not;  but  yet,  I  feel,  I  fear.'}  Read : 
Since  guilt  /  knmo  not ;  but  yet,  I  feel,  I  fear. 

Guiltiness  has  been  already  misprinted  for  guilt.  [See  p.  487, 
line  4.]  It  is  impossible  that  Shakspeare  should  lengthen  a  word 
merely  to  spoil  his  metre.  RITSON. 

The  chivalry  of  criticism  does  not,  in  my  opinion,  require  us 
to  defend  the  old  copies  (those  grannams  of  the  stage,  balbade 
nare  locutce)  when  they  so  grossly  offend  against  the  laws  of 
metre.  In  the  earlier  part  of  this  work  I  have  got  rid  of  some 
of  their  deformities,  but  in  this  and  a  few  of  the  latter  plays  I 
have  been  content  with  exposing  them,  being  certain  that  their 
notoriety  will  hereafter  prove  the  means  of  securing  a  privilege 
which,  respecting  the  present  editors,  may  be  litigated. 

STEEVENS. 

7  That  deaths  unnatural,  that  kills  for  loving.']  This  thought 


se.  Ji.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         495 

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  ? 

OTH.  That  handkerchief,  which  I  so  lov'd,  and 

gave  thee, 
Thou  gav'st  to  Cassio. 

DES.  No,  by  my  life  and  soul  j 

Send  for  the  man,  and  ask  him. 

OTH.  Sweet  soul,  take  heed, 

Take  heed  of  perjury ;  thou'rt  on  thy  death-bed. 

DES.  Ay,  but  not  yet  to  die. 

OTH.  Yes,  presently : 

Therefore  confess  thee  freely  of  thy  sin  5 
For  to  deny  each  article  with  oath, 
Cannot  remove,  nor  choke,  the  strong  conception, 
That  I  do  groan  withal.     Thou  art  to  die. 

DES.  Then,  Lord  have  mercy  on  me ! 

OTH.  I  say,  amen. 

DES.  And  have  you  mercy  too ! — I  never  did 
Offend  you  in  my  life ;  never  lov'd  Cassio, 
But  with  such  general  warranty  of  heaven 
As  I  might  love  :  I  never  gave  him  token. 

OTH.  By  heaven,  I  saw  my  handkerchief  in  his 
hand. 


is  likewise  found  in  The  Legend  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  a 
poem,  by  H.  L.  16mo.  1597: 

**  Unnatural,  which  kill  where  you  should  kisse." 
Again,  in  our  poet's  King  Richard  III : 

**  It  is  a  quarrel  most  unnatural, 

"  To  be  reveng'd  on  him  that  loveth  thee."     MALONS. 


496  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

0  perjur'd  woman !  thou  dost  stone  my  heart, 
And  mak'st  me  call,  what  I  intend  to  do,— 
A  murder,  which  I  thought  a  sacrifice  :8 

1  saw  the  handkerchief. 

DES.  He  found  it  then ; 

I  never  gave  it  him  : — Send  for  him  hither, 
And  let  him  confess  a  truth. 

OTH.  He  hath  confess'd. 

DES.  What,  my  lord  ? 

OTH.  That  he  hath— us'd  thee.9 

DES.  How  ?  unlawfully  ? 

OTH.  Ay. 

DES.          He'll  not  say  so. 

OTH.  No,  his  mouth  is  stopp'd ; 

Honest  lago  hath  ta'en  order  for't.1 


8  A  murder,  ivhich  I  thought  a  sacrifice:"]     This  line  is  diffi- 
cult.    Thou  hast  hardened  my  heart,  and  makest  me  kill  thee 
with  the  rage  of  a  murderer,  when  /  thought  to  have  sacrificed 
thee  to  justice  with  the  calmness  of  a  priest  striking  a  victim. 

It  must  not  be  omitted,  that  one  of  the  elder  quartos  reads, — 
thou  dost  stone  thy  heart;  which  I  suspect  to  be  genuine.  The 
meaning  then  will  be, — thou  forcest  me  to  dismiss  thee  from  the 
world  in  the  state  of  the  murdered  without  preparation  for  death, 
"when  I  intended  that  thy  punishment  should  have  been  a  sacrifice 
atoning  for  thy  crime. 

I  am  glad  that  I  have  ended  my  revisal  of  this  dreadful  scene. 
It  is  not  to  be  endured.  JOHNSON. 

Thy  heart,  is  the  reading  of  the  original  quarto,  1622. 

MALONE. 

9  That  he  hath—us'd  thee.]     The  quarto,  1622,  exhibits  this 
line  thus : 

That  he  hath — uds  death.     MALONE. 

1  — —hath  ta'en  order  for't.']  i.  e.  has  taken  measures.  So, 
in  Holihshed's  Reign  of  King  John:  "  —  he  took  such  order  for 
him,  that  he  was  despoiled  of  all  his  goods  and  benefices." 
p.  174-.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          497 

DES.  My  fear  interprets  then, — What,  is  he 
dead  ? 

OTH.  Had  all  his  hairs  been  lives,2  my  great  re- 
venge 
Had  stomach  for  them  all. 

DES.  Alas  !  he  is  betray'd,  and  I  undone. 

OTH.  Out,  strumpet !  Weep'st  thou  for  him  to 
my  face  ? 

DES.  O,  banish  me,  my  lord,  but  kill  me  not. 

OTH.  Down,  strumpet ! 

DES.  Kill  me  to-morrow,  let  me  live  to-night. 

OTH.  Nay,  if  you  strive, 

DES.  But  half  an  hour. 

OTH.  Being  done, 

There  is  no  pause.3 

Again,  in  Dido,  Queen  of  Carthage,  by  Marlowe  and  Nashe, 
1594: 

"  I  will  take  order  for  that  presently."     MALONE. 
a  Had  all  his  hairs  been  lives,~\  This  thought  appears  to  have 
been  very  common,  as  it  occurs  frequently  in  dramatick  per- 
formances prior  to  Shakspeare's  Othello.     So,  in  The  Devil's 
Charter,  by  Barnaby  Barnes,  1607 : 

"  Know,  Caesar,  had  1  now  as  many  lives 

"  As  there  are  stones,  or  hairs  upon  my  head, 

"  I  would,"  &c. 
Again,  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  King  and  no  King  : 

" but  if  all 

"  My  hairs  ivere  lives,  I  would  not  be  engaged 

"  In  such  a  cause." 
Again,  in  Hieronymo  : 

"  Had  I  as  many  lives  as  there  be  stars — "     STEEVENS. 

King  and  no  King,  as  appears  by  Sir  Henry  Herbert's  papers, 
was  produced  in  1611.  See  The  Historical  Account  of  the  Eng- 
lish Stage,  Vol.  III.  MALONE. 

3  Being  done, 
There  is  no  pause.'}  The  first  quarto  omits  this  speech. 

STEEVENS. 

vor.  xix.  i?  K 


498  OTHELLO,  ACT  r. 

DBS.  But  while  I  say  one  prayer. 

OTH.  It  is  too  late.4  \_He  smothers  her, 

EMIL.  \Within.~\  My  lord,  my  lord !  what  ho! 
my  lord !  my  lord ! 

OTH.  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. 

EMIL.  [Within^  What  ho !  my  lord,  my  lord  ! 
OTH.  Who's  there  ? 

EMIL.  \lVitliin.~\    O,  good  my  lord,  I  would 
speak  a  word  with  you. 

OTH.   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  ? 

4  It  is  too  late.~\  After  this  speech  of  Othello,  the  elder  quarto 
adds  an  invocation  from  Desdemona,  consisting  only  of  the  sa- 
cred name  thrice  repeated.  As  this  must  be  supposed  to  have 
been  uttered  while  she  is  yet  struggling  with  death,  I  think  an 
editor  may  be  excused  from  inserting  such  a  circumstance  of 
supererogatory  horror,  especially  as  it  is  found  in  but  one  of  the 
ancient  copies.  STEEVENS. 

This  alteration  was  probably  made  in  consequence  of  the  sta- 
tute of  the  3d  of  James  I.  c.  21,  which  lays  a  penalty  for  the 
profane  use  of  the  name  of  God,  &c.  in  stage-plays,  interludes, 
May-games,  &c.  TOLLET. 

The  statute  was  necessary ;  for  not  only  the  ancient  moralities, 
but  the  plays  (those  of  Chapman  in  particular)  abound  with  the 
most  wanton  and  shocking  repetitions  of  a  name  which  never 
ought  to  be  mentioned  in  such  an  irreverend  manner  on  the  stage. 

STEEVEXS. 

The  alteration  was  undoubtedly  made  by  the  Master  of  the 
Hevels.  MALONE. 


K.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          49Q 

Still  as  the  grave.  Shall  she  come  in?  Were't  good? 
I  think,  she.  stirs  again  :• — No. — What's  the  bsst  ? 
If  she  come  in,  she'll  sure  speak  to  my  wife  : 
My  wife !  my  wife  !  what  wife  ? — I  have  no  wife,  :5. 
O,  insupportable !  O  heavy  hour  !5 
Methinks  it  should  be  now  a  huge  eclipse 
Of  sun  and  moon ;  and  that  the  affrighted  globe 
Should  yawn  at  alteration. 

EMIL.  \_Within.~]  I  do  beseech  you  I  may  apeak 

with  you, 
O,  good  my  lord ! 

OTH.  I  had  forgot  thee :  O,  come  in,  Emilia  :— 

Soft, — by  and  by : — Let  me  the  curtains  draw.— 

Where  art  thou?    What's  the  matter  with  thee 

now  ?  [  IJnlQcks  tfi&  J}gvr. 


EMILIA. 


EMIL.  O,  good  my  lord,  yonder's  foul  murder 
done. 

OTH.  What?  now? 

EMIL.  But  now,  my  lord  ! 

OTH.  It  is  the  very  error  of  the  moon  ; 
She  comes  more  near  the  earth  than  she  was  wont  ; 


*  My  ixifel  my  wife  !  ixhat  ivife  ? — I  have  no  'wife:']  "  Fi- 
lium  unicum  adolescentulum  baboo  :  ah  !  quid  dixi  habere  me  ? 
imo  habui,  Chrome."  Ter,  Heautont.  STEEVEN$. 

6  0  heavy  hour  /]    In  the  first  scene  of  this  act  we  have 

" a  heavy  night."     This  epithet  likewise  occurs  in  a  sense 

somewhat  unusual  in  Letters  from  the  Paston  Family,  Vol.  IL 
p.  193 :  "  — it  is  dernyd  y1  my  Lady  wolde  herafter  be  the  ra- 
ther myn  hevy  Lady  for  yl  delyng — ."  STEEVENS. 

2  K  2 


500  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

And  makes  men  mad.7 

EMIL.  Cassio,  my  lord,  has  kill'd  a  young  Ve- 
netian, 
Call'd — Roderigo. 

OTH.  Roderigo  kill'd ! 

And  Cassio  kilPd  ? 

EMIL.  No,  Cassio  is  not  kuTd. 

OTH.  Not  Cassio  kill'd  ?  Then  murder's  out  of 

tune, 
And  sweet  revenge  grows  harsh. 

DES.  O,  falsely,  falsely  murder'd!8 


7  It  is  the  very  error  of  the  moon  ; 
She  comes  more  near  the  earth  than  she  ivas  ivont ; 
And  makes  men  mad.~]   So,  in  The  Play  of  the  Wether,  by 
John  Hey  wood,  4°.  bl.  1: 

"  On  my  fayth  I  thynke  the  moone  be  at  the  full, 
"  For  frantyke  fansyes  be  then  most  plentefull." 

STEEVENS. 

8  O,  falsely,  falsely  murder'd!~\  It  cannot  be  supposed  that 
a  person  who  had  been  effectually  strangled  or  smothered,  could 
speak  again ;  for  if  the  power  of  breathing  returned  after  the 
instrument  of  suffocation  was  removed,  no  act  of  violence  had 
"in  reality  taken  place  by  which  the  conclusion  of  life  could  be 
brought  on.  But  such  is  the  peculiar  fate  of  Desdemona, 
that  she  is  supposed  to  be  smothered,  revives  to  acquaint  us 
that  she  smothered  herself,  and  then  dies  without  any  ostensible 
cause  of  death.  I  am  of  opinion  that  some  theatrical  direction 
has  been  omitted  ;  and  that  when  Othello  says — 

«  . Not  dead?  not  yet  quite  dead  ? 

"  I,  that  am  cruel,  am  yet  merciful ; 

"  I  would  not  have  thee  linger  in  thy  pain: — 

"  So,  so." 

He  then  stabs  her,  repeating  the  two  last  words,  as  he  repeats 
the  blow.  Thus,  Virgil: 

" sic,  sic  juvat  ire  sub  umbras." 

After  the  repetition  of  wounds,  Desdemona  might  speak  again, 
with  propriety,  and  yet  very  soon  expire;  as  says  Cassio  of  Ro- 
derigo : 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          501 

EMIL.  Alas !  what  cry  is  that  ? 

OTH.  That!  what? 

EMIL.  Out,  and  alas!  that  was  my  lady's  voice  I—- 
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. 


"  After  long  seeming  dead." 
The  first  resolution  of  Othello  was  to  poison  her,  but  from  this 
measure  he  is  dissuaded  by  the  policy  of  lago.  He  is  next  de- 
termined to  use  the  poniard ;  but,  his  tenderness  awaking,  he 
cannot  bear  to  deform  those  beauties  which  he  had  so  often 
approached  with  other  sensations,  and  for  different  purposes. 
Therefore,  says  he, 

" I'll  not  shed  her  blood, 

"  Nor  scar  that  whiter  skin  of  her's  than  snow, 
"  And  smooth  as  monumental  alabaster :" 
And  this  resolution  we  are  to  imagine  he  would  have  kept,  but 
that  he  was  averse  to  employing  those  means  again,  which  had 
already  appeared  to  be  uncertain  in  their  effect. 

If  this  apparent  want  of  a  play-house  direction  had  occasioned 
an}'  absurdity  in  the  original  representation  of  the  play,  probably 
it  is  glanced  at  by  Ben  Jonson  in  The  Alchemist,  Act  V: 
"  Didst  hear  a  cry,  said'st  thou  ?  Yes,  sir,  like  unto  a  man  that 
had  been  strangled  an  hour,  and  could  not  speak."  STEEVENS. 

The  Alchemist  was  first  represented  in  the  year  1610,  and 
this  passage  is  found  in  the  original  copy  printed  in  that  year. 

MALONF. 


OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

OTH.  She's,  like  a  liar,  gone  to  burning  hell  j9 
'Twas  I  that  kill'd  her. 

EMIL.  O,  the  more  angel  she, 

And  you  the  blacker  devil ! 

OTH.  She  turn'd  to  folly,  and  she  was  a  whore.1 
EMIL.  Thou  dost  belie  her,  and  thou  art  a  devil. 
OTH>,  She  was  false  as  water.2 

EMIL.  Thou  art  rash  as  fire,  to  say 

That  she  was  false  ;  O,  she  was  heavenly  true  ! 

OTH.  Cassio  did  tup  her ;  ask  thy  husband  else. 
O,  I  were  damn'd  beneath  all  depth  in  hell, 
But  that  I  did  proceed  upon  just  grounds 
To  this  extremity  ;3  Thy  husband  knew  it  all. 

EMIL.  My  husband  ? 
OTH.  Thy  husband. 

9  She's,  like  a  liar,  gone  to  burning  hell ;}  Here  is  nothing 
faulty  in  this  passage,  but  it  may  be  read — 
She's,  like  a  liar,  gone  to  burn  in  hell. 

The  vulgar  denunciation  of  future  vengeance  is, — I  think, 
you'll  burn  in  hell  for  this.  WHALLEY. 

So,  in  King  Richard  II  ; 

"  That  hand  shall  burn  in  never-quenching  fire, — " 

STEEVENS. 

1  She  turned  to  folly,  and  she  teas  a  tvhore.~]  Folly,  signifies 
here,  as  in  the  sacred  writings,  depravity  of  mind.  So,  in  our 
author's  Rape  of  Lucrece  : 

"  Her  sad  behaviour  feeds  his  vulture  Jolly."    MALONE. 
So,  in  Deuteronomy,  xxii.  21  :  "  —  she  hath  wrought  folly  in 
Israel,  to  play  the  whore"  &c.     STEEVENS. 

*  -false  as  u-ater.~]   As  water  that  will  support  no  weight, 

•nor  keep  any  impression.     JOHNSON. 

3  this  extremity;]  Perhaps  our  author  wrote — to  this 

•extreme.  The  measure  demands  a  shorter  word  than  the  former. 
Thus,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  : 

"  'Twixt  my  extremes  ami  me  this  bloody  knife 

*'  Shall  play  the  umpire."     STEEVENS. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          503 

EMIL.  That  she  was  false  to  wedlock  ? 

OTH.  Ay,  with  Cassio. 

Nay,  had  she  been  true, 
If  heaven  would  make  me  such  another  world 
Of  one  entire  and  perfect  chrysolite, 
I'd  not  have  sold  her  for  it. 

EMIL.  My  husband  ? 

OTH.  Ay,  'twas  he  that  told  me  first  j4 

An  honest  man  he  is,  and  hates  the  slime 
That  sticks  on  filthy  deeds. 

EMIL.  My  husband  ? 

OTH.  What  needs  this  iterance,5  woman  ?  I  say, 
thy  husband. 

EMIL.6  O  mistress,  villainy  hath  made  mocks 

with  love  !7 — 
My  husband  say,  that  she  was  false  ? 

OTH.  He,  woman ; 

I  say,  thy  husband ;  Dost  understand  the  word  ? 
My  friend,  thy  husband,  honest,  honest  lago. 

EMIL.  If  he  say  so,  may  his  pernicious  soul 

that  told  me  Jlrst ;  ]  The  folio  reads — that  told  me  on 


her  first.     STEEVEXS. 

5  iterance,']  Thus  the  folio.    The  quarto  reads — iteration. 

STEEVENS. 

6  Emit."]  The  first  quarto  omits  this  and  the  following  speech. 

STEEVENS. 

7 villainy  hath  made  mocks  ivith  love .'"]      Villainy  has 

taken  advantage  to  play  upon  the  weakness  of  a  violent  passion. 

JOHNSON. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  that  these  words  might  mean,  that 
"  villainy  hath  play'd  on  its  object  under  a  pretence  of  kindness.'* 
So,  in  Macbeth  : 

" the  surfeited  grooms 

"  Do  mock  their  charge  with  snores" 
But  in  this  I  have  very  little  confidence.     MALONE. 


504  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

Rot  half  a  grain  a  day !  he  lies  to  the  heart ; 
She  was  too  fond  of  her  most  filthy  bargain. 

OTH.  Ha! 

EMIL.  Do  thy  worst : 

This  deed  of  thine  is  no  more  worthy  heaven, 
Than  thou  wast  worthy  her. 

OTH.  Peace,  you  were  best. 

EMIL.  Thou  hast  not  half  the  power  to  do  me 

harm, 

As  I  have  to  be  hurt.8     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  has  kill'd  my  mistress ;  Murder !  mur- 
der! 

Enter  MONTANO,  GRATIANO,  and  IAGO. 

MON.  What  is  the  matter  ! — How  now,  gene- 
ral ? 

EMIL.  O,  are  you  come,  lago  ?  you  have  done 

well, 
That  men  must  lay  their  murders  on  your  neck, 

GRA.  What  is  the  matter  ? 

*  Thou  hast  not  half  the  power  to  do  me  harm, 

As  I  have  to  be  hurt.~\    She  means  to  say, — /  have  in  this 
cause  power  to  endure  more  than  thou  hast  power  to  inflict. 

JOHNSON, 

This  sentiment  is  more  expanded  in  King  Henry  VIII : 

" 1  am  able  now,  methinks, 

"  (Out  of  a  fortitude  of  soul  I  feel,) 
"  To  endure  more  miseries  and  greater  far, 
"  Than  my  weak-hearted  enemies  dare  offer." 
Again,  in  King  Henry  VI.  Part  II : 

"  More  can  I  bear  than  you  dare  execute." 
Of  this  last  line  there  is  no  trace  in  the  old  play  on  which  Shak- 
gpeare  formed  The  Second  Part  of  King  Henry  VI.    MALONE, 


sc.  n.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          50.5 

EMIL.  Disprove  this  villain,  if  tbou  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  j 
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  did  you  ever  tell  him,  she  was  false  ? 
IAGO,  I  did. 

EMIL.  You  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  your 
tongue.9 

EMIL.  I  will  not  charm  my  tongue  ;  I  am  bound 
to  speak  j 

9  charm  your  tongue.']     By  this  expression,  Charm  your 

tongue,  the  poet  meant  no  more  than  to  make  lago  say, — "  Apply 
some  power,  strong  as  a  charm  would  be,  to  your  tongue ;  for 
nothing  less  can  stop  its  volubility."  So,  in  Kins;  Henry  VI. 
Part  III : 

"  Peace,  wilful  boy,  or  I  will  charm  your  tongue." 
Again,  Ben  Jonson,  in  Cynthia's  Revels: 

" charm  your  skipping  tongue." 

Again,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  V.  c.  ix  : 

"  That  well  could  charm  his  tongue,  and  time  his  speech," 
Again,  in  The  Yorkshire  Tragedy,  1608: 

"  The  surest  way  to  c/iarm  a  woman's  tongue, 
"  Is — break  her  neck  : — a  politician  did  it." 
The  same  phrase  is  also  employed  by  Chapman  in  his  version 
of  the  fifth  Iliad: 

11  Downe  from  the  chariot  he  fell,  his  gay  arms  shin'd  and 

rung, 
"  The  swift  horse  trembled,  and  his  soule  for  ever  charm'd 

his  tongue." 

Pliny  informs  us,  that  Jcivete  linguis  was  the  constant  exclama- 
tion before  any  religious  charm  was  applied.  From  this  circum- 
stance the  phrase,  to  charm  a  tongue,  might  have  originated. 

STEEVENS. 


.506  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

My  mistress1  here  lies  murder'd  in  her  bed. 
ALL.  O  heavens  forefend ! 
EMIL.  And  your  reports  have  set  the  murder  on* 
OTH.  Nay,  stare  not,  masters ;  it  is  true,  indeed, 
GRA.  JTis  a  strange  truth. 
MON.  O  monstrous  act ! 

EMIL.  Villainy,  villainy,  villainy ! — 

I  think  upon't, — I  think, — I  smell't; — O  villainy! 
J  thought  so  then  ;2 — I'll  kill  myself  for  grief. — 

0  villainy,  villainy ! 

IAGO.  What,  are  you  mad  ?    I  charge  you,  get 
you  home. 

EMIL.  Good  gentlemen,  let  me  have  leave  to 

speak ; 

*Tis  proper  I  obey  him,  but  not  now : — 
Perchance,  lago,  I  will  ne'er  go  home. 

OTH.  O !  O !  O !  [Hanging  over  his  Wife. 

EMIL.  Nay,  lay  thee  down,  and  roar ; 

For  thou  hast  kill'd  the  sweetest  innocent, 
That  e'er  did  lift  up  eye. 

OTH.  O,  she  was  foul ! — 

[Rising. 

1  scarce  did  know  you,  uncle :   There  lies  your 

niece, 

1  My  mistress  &c.]  This  line,  and  the  following  six  speeches, 
are  wanting  in  the  first  quarto.  STEEVENS. 

-  I  thought  so  then  ;]  i.  e.  at  the  instant  when  she  gave  Des- 
deinona's  handkerchief  to  lago  :  for  even  then  Emilia  appears  to 
have  suspected  it  was  sought  after  for  no  honest  purpose,  and 
therefore  asks  her  husband — 

"  What  will  you  do  with  it  ?"  &c. 
See  p.  393.     STEEVENS. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          507 

Whose  breath,  indeed,  these  hands  have  newly 

stopp'd : 
I  know,  this  act  shows  horrible  and  grim. 

GRA.  Poor  Desdemona !  I  am  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  him  do  a  desperate  turn, 
Yea,  curse  his  better  angel  from  his  side, 
And  fall  to  reprobation.3 

OTH.  'Tis  pitiful :  but  yet  lago  knows, 
That  she  with  Cassio  hath  the  act  of  shame 
A  thousand  times  committed  ;4  Cassio  confessed  it : 


3  Yea,  curse  his  better  angel  from  his  side, 

And  fall  to  reprobation.']   So,  in  our  author's  144th  Sonnet: 

" my  female  evil 

"  Tempteth  my  better  angel  from  my  side"     MALONE. 

reprobation.']  Both  the  first  and  second  folio  read — repro- 

bance.     STEEVENS. 

4  A  thousand  times  committed ;~\   This  is  another  passage  which 
seems  to  suppose  a  longer  space  comprised  in  the  action  of  this 
play  than  the  scenes  include.     JOHNSON. 

That  she  to?'//?  Cassio  hatk  the  act  of  shame 

A  thousand  times  committed; . 

And  again : 

'Tis  not  a  -year  or  tivo  sJiotvs  us  a  man. 

I  am  not  convinced  from  these  passages  only,  that  a  longer  space 
is  comprised  in  the  action  of  this  play  than  the  scenes  include. 

What  Othello  mentions  in  the  first  instance,  might  have  passed 
still  more  often,  before  they  were  married,  when  Cassio  went 
between  them ;  for  she,  who  could  find  means  to  elude  the  vigi- 
lance of  her  father  in  respect  of  Othello,  might  have  done  so  in 
respect  of  Cassio,  when  there  was  time  enough  for  the  occurrence 
supposed  to  have  happened.  A  jealous  person  will  aggravate  all 
he  thinks,  or  speaks  of;  and  might  use  a  thousand  for  a  much 
less  number,  only  to  give  weight  to  his  censure :  nor  would  it 
have  answered  any  purpose  to  have  made  Othello  a  little  nearer 
or  further  off  from  truth  in  his  calculation.  We  might  apply 
the  poet's  own  words  in  Cymbelinei 


JOS  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

And  she  did  gratify  his  amorous  works 
With  that  recognizance  and  pledge  of  love 
Which  I  first  gave  her  ;  I  saw  it  in  his  hand  -7 
It  was  a  handkerchief,5  an  antique  token 

•  spare  your  arithmetick ; 


"  Once,  and  a  million." 
The  latter  is  a  proverbial  expression,  and  might  have  been 
Introduced  with  propriety,  had  they  been  married  only  a  day  or 
two.  Emilia's  reply  perhaps  was  dictated  by  her  own  private 
experience ;  and  seems  to  mean  only,  "  that  it  is  too  soon  to 
judge  of  a  husband's  disposition ;  or  that  Desdemona  must  not 
be  surprised  at  the  discovery  of  Othello's  jealousy,  for  it  is  not 
even  a  year  or  two  that  will  display  all  the  failings  of  a  man." 

Mr.  Toilet,  however,  on  this  occasion  has  produced  several 
instances  in  support  of  Dr.  Johnson's  opinion ;  and  as  I  am  un- 
able to  explain  them  in  favour  of  my  own  supposition,  I  shall 
lay  them  before  the  publick. 
Act  III.  sc.  iii.  Othello  says : 

"  What  sense  had  I  of  her  stolen  hours  of  lust  ? 

"  I  saw  it  not,  thought  it  not,  it  harm'd  not  me : 

"  /  slept  the  next  night  n-cll,  was  free  and  merry : 

"  I  found  not  Cassio's  kisses  on  her  lips. 

"  On  Othello's  wedding  night  he  and  Cassio  embarked  from  Ve- 
nice, where  Desdemona  was  left  under  the  care  of  lago.  They 
all  meet  at  Cj^prus;  and  since  their  arrival  there,  the  scenes  in- 
clude only  one  night,  the  night  of  the  celebration  of  their  nup- 
tials, lago  had  not  then  infused  any  jealousy  into  Othello's  mind, 
nor  did  he  suspect  any  former  intimacy  between  Cassio  and  Des- 
demona, but  only  thought  it  '  apt  and  of  great  credit  that  she 
loved  him.'  What  night  then  was  there  to  intervene  between 
Cassio's  kisses  and  Othello's  sleeping  the  next  night  well  ?  lago 
lias  said,  '  I  lay  with  Cassio  lately,'  which  he  could  not  have  done, 
unless  they  had  been  longer  at  Cyprus  than  is  represented  in  the 
play ;  nor  could  Cassio  have  kept  away,  for  the  space  of  a  whole 
week,  from  Bianca."  STEEVENS. 

In  confirmation  of  Johnson's  observation,  that  this  and  several 
other  passages  tend  to  prove  that  a  larger  space  of  time  is  com- 
prized in  the  action  of  this  play  than  the  scenes  include,  we  may 
cite  that  in  which  Emilia  says,  "  That  her  husband  had  a  hundred 
times  woo'd  her  to  steal  Desdemona's  handkerchief." 

M.  MASOK. 

4  //  IMS  a  handkerchief,  &c.]  Othello  tells  his  wife,  Act  III. 
sc.  iv: 


sc.n.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          509 

My  father  gave  my  mother. 

EMIL.  O  heaven !  O  heavenly  powers ! 

IAGO.  Come,  hold  your  peace. 

EMIL.  'Twill  out,  'twill  out ; — I  hold  my  peace, 

sir  ?  no ; 
No,  I  will  speak  as  liberal  as  the  air  ;r> 

" that  handkerchief 

"  Did  an  Egyptian  to  my  mother  give." 
And  here  he  says : 

It  was  a  handkerchief, 

My  father  gave  my  mother-. 

This  last  passage  has  been  censured  as  an  oversight  in  the  poet; 
but  perhaps  it  exhibits  only  a  fresh  proof  of  his  art.  The  first 
account  of  the  handkerchief,  as  given  by  Othello,  was  purposely 
ostentatious,  in  order  to  alarm  his  wife  the  more.  When  he  men- 
tions it  a  second  time,  the  truth  was  sufficient  for  his  purpose. 

This  circumstance  of  the  handkerchief  is  perhaps  ridiculed 
by  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Poetaster:  "  — you  shall  see  me  do  the 
Moor;  master,  lend  me  your  scarf."  STEEVENS. 

I  question  whether  Othello  was  written  early  enough  to  be 
ridiculed  by  The  Poetaster.  There  were  many  other  Moors  on 
the  stage. 

It  is  certain  at  least,  that  the  passage : 

"  Our  new  heraldry  is  hands,  not  hearts," 
could  not  be  inserted  before  the  middle  of  the  year  1611. 

FARMER. 

If  the  allusion  in  The  Poetaster  (which  was  printed  in  1601,) 
were  to  Othello,  it  would  fix  its  date  much  earlier  than  I  con- 
ceive it  to  have  been  written. — But  the  allusion  in  the  passage 
quoted,  is  not  to  Othello,  but  to  an  old  play  called  The  Battle  of 
Alcazar,  1594. — In  The  Poetaster,  Pyrgus,  who  says,  "you  shall 
see  me  do  the  Moor,"  proceeds  in  the  same  scene,  and  repeats 
an  absurd  speech  of  the  Moor's  in  The  Battle  of  'Alcazar,  begin- 
ning with  this  line : 

"  Where  art  thou,  boy  ?  where  is  Calipolis  ?" 
which  ascertains  the  allusion  to  be  to  that  play.     MALOXE. 
6  No,  I  will  speak  as  liberal  as  the  air  ;]   The  folio  reads : 

/'//  be  in  speaking  liberal  as  the  north. 
Liberal  is  free,  under  no  control.     So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Which  liberal  shepherds  give  a  grosser  name." 
This  quality  of  the  North  wind  is  also  mentioned  in  The  White 
Devilf'or  Vittoria  Corowbona,  1612: 


510  OTHELLO,  ACTV. 

Let  heaven,  and  men,  and  devils,  let  them  all, 
All,  all,  cry  shame  against  me,  yet  I'll  speak, 

IAGO.  Be  wise,  and  get  you  home. 

EMIL.  I  will  not. 

[!AGO  offers  to  stab  his  Wife. 

GRA.  Fye ! 

Your  sword  upon  a  woman  ? 

EMIL.O  thou  dull  Moor!  that  handkerchief  thou 

speak'st  of, 

I  found  by  fortune,  and  did  give  my  husband ; 
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,  gentle- 
men : 

O  murd'rous  coxcomb  !  what  should  such  a  fool 
Do  with  so  good  a  wife  ? 

[!AGO  stabs  EMILIA,  then  runs  out. 

OTH.  Are  there  no  stones  in  heaven, 

But  what  serve  for  the  thunder  ?7 — Precious  villain ! 

'*  And  let  th'  irregular  North  wind  sweep  her  up." 
Again,  in  Jeronimo,  i.  e.  the  first  part  of  The  Spanish  Tragedy , 
1605: 

"  Now  let  your  bloods  be  liberal  as  the  sea.'* 

STEEVENS. 

No,  I  ivill  speak  as  liberal  as  the  air;]      The  quarto,  1622, 
reads : 

I'll  be  in  speaking  liberal  as  the  air. 
The  text  is  formed  out  of  the  two  copies.    MALOUE. 

7  Are  there  no  stones  in  heaven, 
But  what  serve  for  the  thunder?"}  Othello  does  not  demand 


sc.n.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         511 

GXA.  The  woman  falls  ;  sure,  he  has  kili'd  his 
wife. 


.  Ay,  ay  ;  O,  lay  me  by  my  mistress*  side! 
GRA.  He's  gone,  but  his  wife's  kili'd. 

MON.  '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, 

a  thunderbolt  for  lago.  He  only  asks,  if  there  are  no  lesser  de- 
grees of  chastisement  more  proportioned  to  the  guilt  of  mortals, 
ready  to  drop  down  on  such  villains  as  lago,  though  Omnipotence 
withholds  its  thunder,  as  too  noble  an  instrument  for  the  punish- 
ment of  crimes  like  his  ? 

The  same  thought  occurs  in  The  Revenger's  Tragedy,  1609  : 

"  Is  there  no  thunder  left  ?  or  is't  kept  up 

"  In  stock,  for  heavier  vengeance?" 

Shakspeare  might,  however,  mean,  does  heaven  reserve  its 
thunder  only  to  make  a  noise  ?  has  it  no  implements  of  mischief 
to  punish  as  well  as  terrify  ? 

"  -  quum  fulmina  torques, 

*'  Necquicquam  horremus  ?  cascique  in  nubibus  ignes 

"  Terrificant  animos,  et  inania  muruiura  miscent  ?" 

STEEVENS. 

Steevens's  last  explanation  of  this  passage  appears  to  be  just, 
kis  first  was  unnatural.  We  cannot  suppose  that  Othello  in  the 
paroxysm  of  resentment,  agitation,  and  despair,  should  think  any 
crimes  more  heinous  than  that  of  lago.—  It  is  difficult  indeed  to 
conceive  a  crime  that  demanded  a  heavier  vengeance. 

M.  MASON. 

The  meaning,  I  think,  is,  —  Has  not  Heaven  one  supernumerary 
bolt,  to  hurl  directly  at  the  head  of  this  atrocious  villain  ?  Must 
all  the  stores  of  its  arsenal  be  reserved  for  common  and  ordinary 
thunder,  which,  though  sometimes  destructive,  is  in  the  usual 
course  of  nature  not  specifically  pointed  at  a  particular  object  ? 

**  ---.  -  Magne  regnator  deum, 

"  Tarn  lentus  audis  scelera  ?  tarn  lentus  vides  ? 

"  Ecquando  saeva  fulmen  emittes  manu, 

**  Si  nunc  serenum  est  ?  - 

*'  Car  dextra,  divum  rector  atque  hominum,  vacat 

**  Tiia,  nee  trisulca  mundus  ardescit  face  ? 

"  In  hune  tbnest  hunc  JigaaT'     MALONF. 


512  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

But  kill  him  rather ;  I'll  after  that  same  villain, 
For  'tis  a  damned  slave. 

\_Exeunt  MONTANO  and  GRATIANO. 

OTV/.  I  am  not  valiant  neither. 

But  every  puny  whipster  gets  my  sword : — 
But  why  should  honour  outlive  honesty  ? 
Let  it  go  all. 

EMIL.  What  did  thy  song  bode,  lady  ? 

Hark,  can'st  thou  hear  me  ?  I  will  play  the  swan, 
And  die  in  musick  ;8 — Willow p,  willow,  willow. — 
Moor,  she  was  chaste  ;  she  lov'd  thee,  cruel  Moor ; 
So  come  my  soul  to  bliss,  as  I  speak  true ; 
So  speaking  as  I  think,  I  die, — I  die.  [Dies. 

OTH.  I  have  another  weapon  in  this  chamber, 
It  is  a  sword  of  Spain,  the  ice-brook's  temper ; 9 — 

8  1  'will  play  the  stvan, 

And  die  in  musick ;  £c.]    This,  and  the  two  former  lines  of 
the  speech,  are  wanting  in  the  first  quarto. 

The  same  thought  has  already  occurred  in  The  Merchant  of 
Venice: 

" he  makes  a  swan-like  end, 

"  Fading  in  musick  :" . 

Again,  in  King  John: 

" this  pale  faint  swan, 

"  Who  chants  a  woful  hymn  to  his  own  death.'* 

STEEVENS. 

9 the  ice-brook's  temper ;~]    In  the  first  edition  it  is — 

Ise-brooke's  temper.  Thence  corrupted  to  Ice-brook's.  Ebro's 
temper:  the  waters  of  that  river  of  Spain  are  particularly  famous 
for  tempering  of  steel.  The  finest  arms  in  the  world,  the  Cata- 
lonian  fusees.  POPE. 

I  believe  the  old  reading  changed  to  ice-brook  is  right.  Steel 
is  hardened  by  being  put  red-hot  into  very  cold  water. 

JOHNSON. 

The  particular  name  of  the  ice-brook  may  be  determined  by 
the  following  passages  in  Martial.  It  was  undoubtedly  the  brook 
or  rivulet  called  Salo  (now  Xalon),  near  Bilbilis  in  Celtiberia. 
In  this  the  Spaniards  plunged  all  their  swords  and  other  weapons 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          513 

O,  here  it  is : — Uncle,  I  must  come  forth. 

GRA.  [  Within.~\  If  thou  attempt  it,  it  will  cost 

thee  dear; 
Thou  hast  no  weapon,  and  perforce  must  suffer. 

OTH.  Look  in  upon  me  then,  and  speak  with  me, 
Or,  naked  as  I  am,  I  will  assault  thee. 


while  hot  from  the  forge ;  and  to  the  icy  quality  of  the  waters, 
they  were  indebted  for  their  stubborn  temper : 

"  Saevo  Bilbilin  optimam  metallo 

"  Et  ferro  Plateam  suo  sonantem, 

"  Quam  fliictu  lenui  sed  inquieto 

"  Armorum  Salo  temperator  ambit." 
Again : 

"  Quibus  remissum  corpus  astringes  brevi, 

"  Salone  qui  ferrum  gelat." 
Again : 

"  Pugio,  quern  curvis  signat  brevis  orbita  venis, 

"  Stridentem  gelidis  hunc  Salo  tinxit  aquis." 
Again,  in  Justin,  1.  44:  "  Praecipua  hisquidemferrimateria  sed 
aqua  ipsa  ferro  violentior ;  quippe  temperamento  ejus  ferrum 
acrius  redditur ;  nee  ullum  apud  eos  telum  probatur  quod  non 
aut  in  Bilbili  fluvio  aut  Chalybe  tingatur.  Unde  etiam  Chaly- 
bes  fluvii  hujus  finitimi  appellati,  ferroque  caeteris  prsestare 
dicuntur."  These  parts  of  Spain  have  been  at  all  times  famous 
for  the  temper  of  their  arms.  STEEVENS. 

I  incline  to  read  : 

It  is  a  sword  of  Spain,  'tis  ebroes  temper . 
If  we  suppose  that  the  words  ['tis  ebroes]  were  huddled  toge- 
ther either  in  transcribing  or  composing,  thus,  ['tisebroesj  the 
compositor  in  running  it  over  with  his  eye,  might  (to  make  it 
sense  as  he  thought)  add  a  couple  of  letters  and  divide  the  words 
thus  [t^'isebroA-es]  which  is  nearly  as  it  stands  in  the  old  quarto. 
I  doubt  whether  ice-brooks  are  usual  m  the  climate  of  Spain. 

BLACKSTONE. 

the  ice-brook's  temper;']     The  quarto,  1622,  has — Ise 

brookes,  which  is  only  the  old  spelling  of  Ice-brooke's,  the  read- 
ing of  the  folio.  Sir  William  Blackstone  doubts  whether  ice- 
brooks  are  usual  in  the  climate  of  Spain.  How  that  fact  maybe, 
I  know  not ;  and  I  am  confident  Shakspeare  did  not  inquire. 

MALOXE. 


VOL.   XIX. 


514  OTHELLO,  ACTV. 


Re-enter  GRATJANO. 

GRA.  What  is  the  matter  ? 

OTH.  Behold !  I  have  a  weapon ; 

A  better  never  did  itself  sustain 
Upon  a  soldier's  thigh :  *  I  have  seen  the  day, 
That,  with  this  little  arm,  and  this  good  sword, 
I  have  made  my  way  through  more  impediments 
Than  twenty  times  your  stop:2 — But,  O  vain  boast! 
Who  can  control  his  fate  ?  'tis  not  so  now. — 
Be  not  afraid,  though  you  do  see  me  weapon' d ; s 
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  Othello's  breast, 
And  he  retires ; — Where  should  Othello  go  ? — 
Now,    how   dost   thou  look  now?    O   ill-starr'd 
wench  !4 


1  A  better  never  did  itself  sustain 

Upon  a  soldier's  thigh  :J     So,  in  The  Tixo  Noble  Kinsmen, 
by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  1634- : 

« On  his  thigh  a  sword 

"  Hung  by  a  curious  baldricke,  when  he  frowns, 
"  To  seal  his  will  by;  better,  on  my  conscience, 
"  Never  was  soldier's  friend."     MALONE. 

'"  I  have  made  my  way  through  more  impediments 
Than  twenty  times  your  stop:~\   So,  in  Coriolanus,  sc.  i : 

" cracking  ten  thousand  curbs 

"  Of  more  strong  link  asunder,  than  can  ever 
"  Appear  in  your  impediment."     STEEVENS. 

•  though  you  do  see  me  weapon'd;]     This  uncommon 


participle  is  used  by  Sidney  in  his  Arcadia.     MALONE. 

4 0  ill-starr  d  wench !]  This  and  the  six  preceding  lines, 

are  omitted  in  the  first  quarto.  Wench  originally  signified  only 
a  young  woman.  Cassandra,  in  Whetstone's  Promos  and  Cas- 
sandra, 1578,  says  of  herself: 

"  O  wretched  wench,  where  may  I  first  complayne  ?" 


sc.  n.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         515 

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? 
Even  like  thy  chastity. — 
O  cursed,  cursed  slave ! — Whip  me,  ye  devils, 
From  the  possession  of  this  heavenly  sight ! 
Blow  me  about  in  winds  !  roast  me  in  sulphur ! 
Wash  me  in  steep-down  gulfs  of  liquid  fire ! — 
O  Desdemona  !  Desdemona !  dead  ? 
Dead?  O!  O!  O! 


Enter  LODOVICO,   MONTANO,  CASSIO,  carried  in 
a  Chair,  and  Officers,  with  IAGO,  prisoner. 

LOD.  Where  is  this  rash  and  most  unfortunate 
man  ? 

OTH.  That's  he,  that  was  Othello ;  here  I  am. 

LOD.    Where  is  that  viper  ?    bring  the  villain 
forth. 

OTH.  I  look  down  towards  his  feet ; 5 — but  that's 

a  fable  : 
If  that  thou  be'st  a  devil,  I  cannot  kill  thee. 

[OTHELLO  wounds  IAGO. 


Again : 

"  Therefore,  sweet  tvenche,  helpe  me  to  rue  my  woe.'* 
The  word  is  used  without  any  dishonourable  meaning  in  the 
Bible :  "  Now  Jonathan  and  Ahimaaz  stayed  by  En-rogel ;  (for 
they  might  not  be  seen  to  come  into  the  city:)  and  a  tvenck 
went  and  told  them ;  and  they  went  and  told  king  David." 
2  Sam.  xvii.  17. 

And  again,  by  Gawin  Douglas,  in  his  version  of  the  JEneid: 

" audetque  viris  concurrere  virgo." 

"  This  ivensche  stoutlye  rencounter  durst  with  men." 

STEEVENS. 

4 towards  his  feet  ;~\  To  see  if,  according  to  the  common 

opinion,  his  feet  be  cloven.     JOHNSON. 

2  L  2 


516  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

LOD.  Wrench  his  sword  from  him* 

I  AGO.  I  bleed,  sir ;  but  not  kill'd. 

OTH.  I  am  not  sorry  neither;  I'd  have  thee  live; 
For,  in  my  sense,  'tis  happiness  to  die.6 

LOD.  O  thou  Othello,  that  was  once  so  good, 
Fall'n  in  the  practice7  of  a  cursed  slave, 
What  shall  be  said  to  thee  ? 

OTH.  Why,  any  thing  : 

An  honourable  murderer,  if  you  will ; 
For  nought  I  did  in  hate,  but  all  in  honour. 

LOD.  Thiswretch  hath  part  confessed  his  villainy: 
Did  you  and  he  consent  in  Cassio's  death  ? 

OTH.  Ay. 

CAS.  Dear  general,  I  never  gave  you  cause.8 

OTH.  I  do  believe  it,  and  I  ask  your  pardon. 
Will  you,  I  pray  you,  demand  that  demi-devil, 
Why  he  hath  thus  ensnar'd  my  soul  and  body  ? 

IAGO.  Demand  me  nothing  :  What  you  know, 

you  know  : 
From  this  time  forth  I  never  will  speak  word. 


6  For,  in  my  sense,  'tis  happiness  to  die.~\  The  same  thought 
has  already  occurred  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 

" 'Tis  well  thou'rt  gone, — 

"  If  it  be  well  to  live."     STEEVENS. 

7 .         in  the  practice — ]  In  the  snare,  by  the  stratagem. 

JOHNSON. 

See  Vol.  XVII.  p.  426,  n.  5.    MALOXE. 

8  Dear  general,  I  never  gave  you  cause.']  Our  poet,  probably 
without  knowing  it,  has  used  the  words  of  The  Spanish  Tragedy, 
1605: 

"  Hieronymo,  I never  gave  thee  cause?" 
This  phrase,  a  very  familiar  one,  is  also  employed  in  p.  -127, 
1.  11: 

"  Alas,  the  day!  I  never  gave  him  cause."     MAI,  ON*:. 


sc.  ii.        THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.         517 

LOD.  What  ?  not  to  pray  ? 

GRA.  Torments  will  ope  your  lips. 

OTH.  Well,  thou  dost  best. 

LOD.  Sir,  you  shall  understand  what  hath  be- 

fall'n, 

Which,  as  I  think,  you  know  not :  Here  is  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. 

OTH.  O  villain ! 

CAS.  Most  heathenish,  and  most  gross  !9 

LOD.  Now  here's  another  discontented  paper, 
Found  in  his  pocket  too  ;  and  this,  it  seems, 
Roderigo  meant  to  have  sent  this  damned  villain  5 
But  that,  belike,  lago  in  the  interim1 
Came  in  and  satisfied  him. 

OTH.  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  confessed,  but  even  now,2 


9  Oth.  O  villain  ! 

Cas.  Most  heathenish,  and  most  gross /]   Read,  for  the  sake 
of  both  sense  and  metre : 
Oth.  0  villainy  ! 
Cas.  Most  heathenish,  and  most  gross. 

RlTSON. 

1 in  the  interim — ]   The  first  copy  has — In  the  nick.     It 

was,  I  suppose,  thought  upon  revisal,  that  nick  was  too  familiar. 

JOHNSON. 


coiifess'd,  but  even  no'w,'}     The  quarto,   1622,  reads 


confess'd  it  even  now.     The  folio — confess'd  it,  but  even  now. 


518  OTHELLO,  ACTV. 

That  there  he  dropp'd  it,  for  a  special  purpose, 
Which  wrought  to  his  desire. 

OTH.  O  fool !  fool !  fool ! 

CAS.  There  is,  besides,  in  Roderigo's  letter, — 
How  he  upbraids  lago,  that  he  made  him 
Brave  me  upon  the  watch  ;  whereon  it  came 
That  I  was  cast :  And  even  but  now  he  spake, 
After  long  seeming  dead, — lago  hurt  him, 
lago  set  him  on. 

LOD.  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  him  away. 

OTH.  Soft  you ;  a  word  or  two,  before  you  go. 
I  have  done  the  state  some  service,  and  they  know 

it; 

No  more  of  that : — I  pray  you,  in  your  letters, 
When  you  shall  these  unlucky  deeds  relate, 
Speak  of  me  as  I  am  ;3  nothing  extenuate, 
Nor  set  down  aught  in  malice :  then  must  you  speak 
Of  one,  that  lov'd  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  Judean,  threw  a  pearl  away, 


The  word  it  was  manifestly  caught  by  the  compositor's  eye 
glancing  on  the  subsequent  line.     MALONE. 

3  Speak  of  me  as  I  am;"]  The  first  quarto  reads, — Speak  of' 
them  as  they  are.  The  present  reading,  which  is  the  reading  of 
the  folio,  has  more  force.  JOHNSON. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          519 

Richer  than  all  his  tribe  ;4  of  one,  whose  subdu'd 
eyes, 


4 of  one,  whose  hand, 

Like  the  base  Judean,  threw  a  pearl  away. 

Richer  than  all  his  tribe;']  I  have  restored  Judian,  from 
the  elder  quarto,  as  the  genuine  and  more  eligible  reading.  Mr. 
Pope  thinks  this  was  occasioned  probably  by  the  word  tribe  just 
after :  I  have  many  reasons  to  oppose  this  opinion.  In  the  first 
place,  the  most  ignorant  Indian,  I  believe,  is  so  far  the  reverse 
of  the  dunghill-cock  in  the  fable,  as  to  know  the  estimation  of 
a  pearl  beyond  that  of  a  barley-corn.  So  that,  in  that  respect, 
the  thought  itself  would  not  be  just.  Then,  if  our  author  had 
designed  to  reflect  on  the  ignorance  of  the  Indian  without  any 
farther  reproach,  he  would  have  called  him  rude,  and  not  base. 
Again,  I  am  persuaded,  as  my  friend  Mr.  Warburton  long  ago 
observed,  the  phrase  is  not  here  literal,  but  metaphorical ;  and, 
by  his  pearl,  our  author  very  properly  means  a  Jine  woman. 
But  Mr.  Pope  objects  farther  to  the  reading  Judian,  because,  to 
make  sense  of  this,  we  must  pre-suppose  some  particular  story  of 
a  Jew  alluded  to ;  which  is  much  less  obvious :  but  has  Shak- 
speare  never  done  this,  but  in  this  single  instance  ?  I  am  satis- 
fied, in  his  Judian,  he  is  alluding  to  Herod;  who,  in  a  fit  of 
blind  jealousy,  threw  away  such  a  jewel  of  a  wife  as  Mariamne 
was  to  him.  What  can  be  more  parallel  in  circumstance,  than 
the  conduct  of  Herod  and  Othello  ?  Nor  was  the  story  so  little 
obvious  as  Mr.  Pope  seem&to  imagine:  for,  in  the  year  1613, 
the  Lady  Elizabeth  Carew  published  a  tragedy  called  MARIAM, 
the  Fair  Queen  of  JEWRY.  I  shall  only  add,  that  our  author 
might  write  Judian  or  Judean,  (if  that  'should  be  alledged  as 
any  objection,)  instead  of  Jud&an,  with  the  same  licence  and 
change  of  accent,  as,  in  his  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  he  shortens 
the  second  syllable  of  Euphrates  in  pronunciation :  which  was 
:i  liberty  likewise  taken  by  Spenser,  of  whom  our  author  was  a 
studious  imitator.  THEOBALD. 

Like  the  base  Judean.]  Thus  the  folio.  The  first  quarto, 
1622,  reads — Indian.  Mr.  Theobald  therefore  is  not  accurate 
in  the  preceding  note,  in  his  account  of  the  old  copies. 

MALONE. 

The  elder  quarto  reads  Judian,  and  this  is  certainly  right. 
And  by  the  Judian  is  meant  Herod,  whose  usage  to  Mariamne 
is  so  apposite  to  the  speaker's  case,  that  a  more  proper  instance 
could  not  be  thought  of.  Besides,  he  was  the  subject  of  a  tra- 


520  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

Albeit  unused  to  the  melting  mood,5 


gedy  at  that  time,  as  appears  from  the  words  in  Hamlet,  where 
an  ill  player  is  described — 

" to  out-herod  Herod." 

The  metaphorical  term  of  a  pearl  for  a  fine  woman,  is  so  com- 
mon as  scarce  to  need  examples.  In  Troilus  and  Cressida,  a 
lover  says  of  his  mistress — 

"  There  she  lies  a  PEARL." — 
Arid  again: 

"  Why  she  is  a  pearl,  whose  price"  &c.     WARBURTON. 

I  cannot  join  with  the  learned  criticks  in  conceiving  this  pas- 
sage to  refer  either  to  the  ignorance  of  the  natives  of  India,  in 
respect  of  pearls,  or  the  well-known  story  of  Herod  and  Mari- 
amne.  The  poet  might  just  as  fairly  be  supposed  to  have  alluded 
to  that  of  Jephthah  and  his  daughter. 

Othello,  in  detestation  of  what  he  had  done,  seems  to  compare 
himself  to  another  person  who  had  thrown  away  a  thing  of'  va- 
lue, with  some  circumstances  of  the  meanest  'villainy,  which 
the  epithet  base  seems  to  imply  in  its  general  sense,  though  it  is 
sometimes  used  only  for  Zoto  or  mean.  The  Indian  could  not 
properly  be  termed  base  in  the  former  and  most  common  sense, 
whose  fault  was  ignorance,  which  brings  its  own  excuse  with 
it ;  and  the  crime  of  Herod  surely  deserves  a  more  aggravated 
distinction.  For  though  in  every  crime,  great  as  well  as  small, 
there  is  a  degree  of  baseness,  yet  the  furiis  agitatus  amor,  such 
as  contributed  to  that  of  Herod,  seems  to  ask  a  stronger  word 
to  characterize  it ;  as  there  was  spirit  at  least  in  what  he  did, 
though  the  spirit  of  a  fiend,  and  the  epithet  base  would  better 
suit  with  petty  larceny  than  royal  guilt.  Besides,  the  simile 
appears  to  me  too  apposite  almost  to  be  used  on  the  occasion,  and 
is  little  more  than  bringing  the  fact  into  comparison  with  itself. 
Each  through  jealousy  had  destroyed  an  innocent  wife,  circum- 
stances so  parallel,  as  hardly  to  admit  of  that  variety  which  we 
generally  find  in  one  allusion,  which  is  meant  to  illustrate  ano- 
ther, and  at  the  same  time  to  appear  as  more  than  a  superfluous 
ornament.  Of  a  like  kind  of  imperfection,  there  is  an  instance 


tvhose  subdu'd  eyes, 

Albeit  unused  to  the  melting  mood,]   So,  in  our  poet's  30th 
Sonnet : 

"  Then  can  I  drown  an  eye  unus'd  to  flow"     MALONE. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          521 
Drop  tears  as  fast  as  the  Arabian  trees 


in  Virgil,  Book  XI.  where,  after  Camilla  and  her  attendants 
have  been  described  as  absolute  Amazons, — 

"  At  medias  inter  caedes  exultat  Amazon, 
"  Unum  exerta  latus  pugnse  pharetrata  Camilla. — 
"  At  circum  lectae  comites,"  &c. 

we  find  them,  nine  lines  after,  compared  to  the  Amazons  them- 
selves, to  Hippolyta  or  Penthesilea,  surrounded  by  their  com- 
panions : 

"  Quales  Threiciae,  cum  flumina  Thermodontis 
"  Pulsant,  et  pictis  bellantur  Amazones  armis : 
"  Seu  circum  Hippolyten,  seu  quum  se  martia  curru 
"  Penthesilea  refert." 

What  is  this  but  bringing  a  fact  into  comparison  with  itself? 
Neither  do  I  believe  the  poet  intended  to  make  the  present  simile 
coincide  with  all  the  circumstances  of  Othello's  situation,  but 
merely  with  the  single  act  of  having  basely  (as  he  himself  terms 
it)  destroyed  that  on  which  he  ought  to  have  set  a  greater  value. 
As  the  pearl  may  bear  a  literal  as  well  as  a  melapliorical  sense, 
I  would  rather  choose  to  take  it  in  the  literal  one,  and  receive 
Mr.  Pope's  rejected  explanation,  pre-supposing  some  story  of  a 
JeiM  alluded  to,  which  might  be  well  understood  at  that  time, 
though  now  perhaps  forgotten,  or  at  least  imperfectly  remem- 
bered. I  have  read  in  some  book,  as  ancient  as  the  time  of 
Shakspeare,  the  following  tale  ;  though  at  present,  I  am  un- 
able either  to  recollect  the  title  of  the  piece,  or  the  author's 
name  : 

"  A  Jew,  who  had  been  prisoner  for  many  years  in  distant 
parts,  brought  with  him  at  his  return  to  Venice  a  great  number 
of  pearls,  which  he  offered  on  the  'change  among  the  merchants, 
and  (one  alone  excepted)  disposed  of  them  to  his  satisfaction. 
On  this  pearl,  which  was  the  largest  ever  shown  at  market,  he 
had  fixed  an  immoderate  price,  nor  could  be  persuaded  to  make 
the  least  abatement.  Many  of  the  magnificoes,  as  well  as 
traders,  offered  him  considerable  sums  for  it,  but  he  was  resolute 
in  his  first  demand.  At  last,  after  repeated  and  unsuccessful 
applications  to  individuals,  he  assembled  the  merchants  of  the 
city,  by  proclamation,  to  meet  him  on  the  Rialto,  where  he  once 
more  exposed  it  to  sale  on  the  former  terms,  but  to  no  purpose. 
After  having  expatiated,  for  the  last  time,  on  the  singular 
beauty  and  value  of  it,  he  threw  it  suddenly  into  the  sea  before 
them  all." 

Though  this  anecdote  may  appear  inconsistent  with  the  avarice 


522  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

Their  medicinal  gum  :7  Set  you  down  this : 

of  a  Jew,  yet  it  sufficiently  agrees  with  the  spirit  so  remarkable 
at  all  times  in  the  scattered  remains  of  that  vindictive  nation. 

Shakspeare's  seeming  aversion  to  the  Jews  in  general,  and  his 
constant  desire  to  expose  their  avarice  and  baseness  as  often  as  he 
had  an  opportunity,  may  serve  to  strengthen  my  supposition ;  and 
as  that  nation,  in  his  time,  and  since,  has  not  been  famous  for 
crimes  daring  and  conspicuous,  but  has  rather  contented  itself  to 
thrive  by  the  meaner  and  more  successful  arts  of  baseness,  there 
seems  to  be  a  particular  propriety  in  the  epithet.  When  Fal staff 
is  justifying  himself  in  King  Henry  IV,  he  adds,  "  If  what  I 
have  said  be  not  true,  I  am  a  Jew,  an  Ebrew  Jew,"  i.  e.  one  of 
the  most  suspected  characters  of  the  time.  The  liver  of  a  Jew 
is  an  ingredient  in  the  cauldron  of  Macbeth;  and  the  vigilance 
for  gain,  which  is  described  in  Shylock,  may  afford  us  reason  to 
suppose  the  poet  was  alluding  to  a  story  like  that  ahead}' 
quoted. 

Richer  than  all  his  tribe,  seems  to  point  out  the  Jew  again  in 
a  mercantile  light ;  and  may  mean,  that  the  pearl  was  richer 
than  all  the  gems  to  be  found  among  a  set  r>f  men  generally 
trading  in  them.  Neither  do  I  recollect  that  Othello  mentions 
many  things,  but  what  he  might  fairly  have  been  allowed  to  have 
had  knowledge  of  in  the  course  of  his  peregrinations.  Of  this 
kind  are  the  similes  of  the  Euxine  sea  flowing  into  the  Propon- 
tick,  and  the  Arabian  trees  dropping  their  gums.  The  rest  of 
his  speeches  are  more  free  from  mythological  and  historical  allu- 
sions, than  almost  any  to  be  found  in  Shakspeare,  for  he  is  never 
quite  clear  from  them  ;  though  in  the  design  of  this  character  he 
seems  to  have  meant  it  for  one  who  had  spent  a  greater  part  of 
his  life  in  the  field,  than  in  the  cultivation  of  any  other  know- 
ledge than  what  would  be  of  use  to  him  in  his  military  capacity. 
It  should  be  observed,  that  most  of  the  flourishes  merely  orna- 
mental were  added  after  the  first  edition  ;  and  this  is  not  the  only 
proof  to  be  met  with,  that  the  poet  in  his  alterations  sometimes 
forgot  his  original  plan. 

7  Their  medicinal  gum:~\  Thus  the  quarto,  1622.  This  word 
is  also  used  by  our  author  in  The  Winters  Talc;  and  occurs  in 
the  works  of  two  of  our  greatest  poets — Milton  and  Dryden. 

STEEVENS. 

I  have  preferred  the  reading  of  the  folio  [medicinable]  because 
the  word  occurs  again  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing:  "  — any 
impediment  will  be  medicinable  to  me."  i.  e.  salutary. 

MALONE. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          523 

And  say,  besides, — that  in  Aleppo  once, 


The  metaphorical  term  of  a  pearl  for  a  Jine  "woman,  may, 
for  aught  I  know,  be  very  common ;  but  in  the  instances  Dr. 
Warburton  has  brought  to  prove  it  so,  there  are  found  circum- 
stances that  immediately  show  a  woman  to  have  been  meant. 
So,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida  : 

"  HER  BKD  is  INDIA,  there  SHE  lies  a  pearl. 

"  Why  SHE  is  a  pearl  whose  price  hath  launch'd"  &c. 

In  Othello's  speech  we  find  no  such  leading  expression ;  and 
are  therefore  at  liberty,  I  think,  to  take  the  passage  in  its 
literal  meaning. 

Either  we  are  partial  to  discoveries  which  we  make  for  our- 
selves, or  the  spirit  of  controversy  is  contagious ;  for  it  usually 
happens  that  each  possessor  of  an  ancient  copy  of  our  author,  is 
led  to  assert  the  superiority  of  all  such  readings  as  have  not  been, 
exhibited  in  the  notes,  or  received  into  the  text  of  the  last  edition. 
On  this  account,  our  present  republication  (and  more  especially 
in  the  celebrated  plays)  affords  a  greater  number  of  these  diver- 
sities than  were  ever  before  obtruded  on  the  publick.  A  time 
however  may  arrive,  when  a  complete  body  of  variations  being 
printed,  our  readers  may  luxuriate  in  an  ample  feast  of  thats  and 
whiches •.  ;  and  thenceforward  it  may  be  prophecied,  that  all  will 
unite  in  a  wish  that  the  selection  had  been  made  by  an  editor, 
rather  than  submitted  to  their  own  labour  and  sagacity. 

To  this  note  should  be  subjoined  (as  an  apology  for  many  others 
which  may  not  be  thought  to  bring  a  conviction  with  them )  that 
the  true  sense  of  a  passage  has  frequently  remained  undetermined, 
till  repeated  experiments  have  been  tried  on  it ;  when  one  com- 
mentator, making  a  proper  use  of  the  errors  of  another,  has  at 
last  explained  it  to  universal  satisfaction.  When  mistakes  have 
such  effects,  who  would  regret  having  been  mistaken,  or  be  sorry 
to  prove  the  means  of  directing  others,  by  that  affinity  which  a 
wrong  reading  or  interpretation  sometimes  has  to  the  right, 
though  he  has  not  been  so  lucky  as  to  produce  at  once  authorities 
which  could  not  be  questioned,  or  decisions  to  which  nothing 
could  be  added  ?  STEEVENS. 

I  abide  by  the  old  text,  "  the  ba.se  Judian"  Shakspeare  seems 
to  allude  to  Herod  in  the  play  of  Mariamne  : 

"  I  had  but  one  inestimable  jewel 

"  Yet  I  in  suddaine  choler  cast  it  downe, 
"  And  dasht  it  all  to  pieces."     FARMER. 

The  words  quoted  by  Dr.  Warburton  from  Hamlet  do  not 
prove  what  they  are  adduced  for.  The  Herod  there  alluded  to, 


.524  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

Where  a  malignant  and  a  turban' d  Turk8 
Beat  a  Venetian,  and  traduc'd  the  state, 


was  a  character  in  one  of  the  ancient  Mysteries.  [See  Candle- 
mas-da j,  or  the  Killi/ig  '/  the  Children  of  Israel,  a  Mystery,  in 
Hawkins's  Origin  of  the  English  Drama,  Vol.  I.] 

I  once  thought  that  the  accent  here  given  to  Judean  was  a 
strong  objection  to  this  reading :  and  that  the  word  must  have 
been  Judean  or  Judatan,  (as  a  derivative  from  Judcea)  which 
would  not  s^it  the  metre.  But  the  objection  was  founded  on  a 
mistake;  for  derivative  words  of  this  kind  were  thus  accented  in 
Shakspeare's  time.  Thus,  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor, 
we  have  in  the  old  copies,  "  an  Epicurian  rascal,"  which  ascer- 
tains the  pronunciation  of  that  word  to  have  been  different  for- 
merly from  what  ;t  is  now.  The  word  is  thus  spelt  by  North 
also,  in  his  translation  of  Plutarch.  Again,  in  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra : 

"  Ke°p  his  brains  fuming,  Epicurean  cooks." 

So,  in  Hamlet,  we  have  the  Nemean  lion  (which  is  written  in 
the  oM  copy  Ncmian]. 

Those  who  would  adopt  the  original  reading,  Indian,  may 
urge  in  its  support  that  tht  pearl  naturally  brings  a  people  of 
the  East  to  Shakspeare's  mind ;  the  connexion  in  his  time'  being 
considered  so  strong,  that  a  contemporary  author  has  distin- 
guished the  inhabitants  c<  India  by  an  epithet  founded  on  the 
circumstance  of  their  abounding  in  pjaris  : 

" where  the  bright,  sun  with  his  neighbour  beams 

"  Doth  early  light  the  pearled  Indians." 

Cornelia,  a  tragedy,  by  T.  Kyd,  1594. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  word  tribe  is  strongly  in  favour  of  the 
reading  of  the  text,  and  I  have  now  no  doubt  that  it  is  the  true 
one. 

Webster,  in  his  Appius  and  Virginia,  appears  to  have  had 
this  passage  in  his  thoughts : 

Had  your  lordship  yesterday 


Proceeded  as  'twas  fit,  to  a  just  sentence, 
The  apparel  and  the  jeivels  that  she  wore, 
More  iKorth  than  all  her  tribe,  had  then  been  due 
Unto  our  client."     MALONE. 


8  Where  a  malignant  and  a  turban'd  Turk — 3  I  am  told  that 
it  is  immediate  death  for  a  Christian  to  strike  a  Turk  in  Aleppo. 
Othello  is  boasting  of  his  own  audacity.  STEEVENS. 


sc.  ii.       THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          525 

I  took  by  the  throat  the  circumcised  dog, 

And  smote  him — thus.  [Stabs  himself. 

LOD.  O  bloody  period ! 

GRA.  All,  that's  spoke,  is  marr'd. 

OTH.  I  kiss'd  thee,  ere  I  kilPd  thee  ; — No  way 

but  this,      [Fatting  upon  DESDEMONA. 

Killing  myself,  to  die  upon  a  kiss.9  [Dies. 

CAS.  This  did  I  fear,  but  thought  he  had  no 

weapon ; 
For  he  was  great  of  heart. 

LOD.  O  Spartan  dog,1 

More  fell  than  anguish,  hunger,  or  the  sea ! 
Look  on  the  tragick  loading  of  this  bed ; 

[To  IAGO< 

This  is  thy  work  :  the  object  poisons  sight  j — 
Let  it  be  hid. — Gratiano,  keep  the  house, 
And  seize  upon  the  fortunes  of  the  Moor, 
For  they  succeed  to  you. — To  you,  lord  governor, 
Remains  the  censure  of  this  hellish  villain  ;2 

y  Killing  myself,  to  die  upon  a  kiss.]     So,  in  the  Second  Part 
of  Marlowe's  Tamburlaine,  1590: 

"  Yet  let  me  kiss  my  lord  before  I  dye, 

"  And  let  me  dye  with  kissing  of  my  lord."   STEEVENS. 

1  0  Spartan  dog,~\     The  dogs  of  Spartan  race  were  reckoned 
among  those  of  the  most  fierce  and  savage  kind.     HANMER. 

They  are  again  mentioned  in  A  Midsummer-Night 's  Dream: 
"  When  in  a  wood  of  Crete  they  bay'd  the  bear 
"  With  hounds  of  Sparta"     HENLEY. 

The  Spartan  dogs  in  our  poet's  contemplation,  were  blood- 
hounds.    See  Vol.  IV.  p.  4-51.     MALONE. 

s y0  you,  lord  governor, 

Remains  the  censure  of  this  hellish  villain ;]  Rymer,  who 
had  neither  vigour  of  imagination  to  make  a  poet,  nor  strength 
of  judgment  to  make  a  critick,  as  appears  from  his  Edgar,  and 
his  Remarks  on  'Shakspeare,  had  yet  just  enough  to  play  the 
buffoon  and  caviller.  His  criticism  on  the  Poets  of  the  last  Age, 


526  OTHELLO,  ACT  v. 

The  time,  the  place,  the  torture, — O  enforce  it! 
Myself  will  straight  aboard;  and,  to  the  state, 
This  heavy  act  with  heavy  heart  relate.  [Exeunt? 


with  only  a  mixture  of  trite  remarks,  transcribed  from  the  French 
commentators  on  Aristotle,  are  one  continued  heap  of  ignorance 
and  insolence.  Almost  the  only  remark  on  Shakspeare,  which, 
I  think,  deserves  an  answer,  is  upon  lago's  character,  which  he 
thus  censures:  To  entertain  the  audience  (says  he)  ivitk  some- 
thing new  and  surprising,  against  common  sense  and  nature,  he 
•would  pass  upon  us  a  close,  dissembling,  false,  ungrateful  rascal, 
instead  of  an  open-hen  rted,jrank,  'plain-dealing  soldier,  a  character 
constantly  tuorn  by  them  for  some  thousand  of  years  in  the  ivorld. 
This  hath  the  appearance  of  sense,  being  founded  on  that  rule 
of  Nature  and  Aristotle,  that  each  character  should  have  man- 
ners convenient  to  the  age,  sex,  and  condition. 

^Etatis  cujusque  notandi  sunt  tibi  mores,  8fc. 
says  Horace.  But  how  has  our  critick  applied  it  ?  According 
to  this  rule  it  is  confessed,  that  a  soldier  should  be  brave,  gene- 
rous, and  a  man  of  honour.  This  is  to  be  his  dramatick  cha- 
racter. But  either  one  or  more  of  any  order  may  be  brought  in. 
If  only  one,  then  the  character  of  the  order  takes  its  denomina- 
tion from  the  manners  of  that  one.  Had  therefore  the  only 
soldier  in  this  play  been  lago,  the  rule  had  been  transgressed,  and 
Rymer's  censure  well  founded.  For  then  this  eternal  villain 
must  have  given  the  character  of  the  soldiery  ;  which  had  been 
unjust  and  unnatural.  But  if  a  number  of  the  same  order  be  re- 
presented, then  the  character  of  the  order  is  taken  from  the  man- 
ners of  the  majority  ;  and  this  according  to  nature  and  common 
sense.  Now  in  this  play  there  are  many  of  the  order  of  the 
soldiery ;  and  all,  excepting  lago,  represented  as  open,  generous, 
and  brave.  From  these  the  soldier's  character  is  to  be  taken ; 
and  not  from  lago,  who  is  brought  as  an  exception  to  it:  unless 
it  be  unnatural  to  suppose  there  could  be  an  exception;  or  that 
a  villain  ever  insinuated  himself  into  that  corps.  And  thus 
Shakspeare  stands  clear  of  this  impertinent  criticism. 

WARBURTON. 

Me  censure — ]   i.  e.  the  sentence.    See  Vol.  IV.  p.  190, 

n.  4.     STEEVENS. 

See  also  Vol.  IX.  p.  25G,  n.  2.     MALONE. 

3  The  beauties  of  this  play  impress  themselves  so  strongly  upon 
the  attention  of  the  reader,  that  they  can  draw  no  aid  from  cri- 
tical illustration.  The  fiery  openness  of  Othello,  magnanimous^ 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          527 

artless,  and  credulous,  boundless  in  his  confidence,  ardent  in  his 
affection,  inflexible  in  his  resolution,  and  obdurate  in  his  re- 
venge; the  cool  malignity  of  lago,  silent  in  his  resentment, 
subtle  in  his  designs,  and  studious  at  once  of  his  interest  and  his 
vengeance ;  the  soft  simplicity  of  Desdemona,  confident  of 
merit,  and  conscious  of  innocence,  her  artless  perseverance  in 
her  suit,  and  her  slowness  to  suspect  that  she  can  be  suspected, 
are  such  proofs  of  Shakspeare's  skill  in  human  nature,  as,  I  sup- 
pose, it  is  vain  to  seek  in  any  modern  writer.  The  gradual  pro- 
gress which  lago  makes  in  the  Moor's  conviction,  and  the  cir- 
cumstances which  he  employs  to  enflame  him,  are  so  artfully  na- 
tural, that,  though  it  will  perhaps  not  be  said  of  him  as  he  says 
of  himself,  that  he  is  a  man  not  easily  jealous,  yet  we  cannot  but 
pity  him,  when  at  last  we  find  him  perplexed  in  the  extreme. 

There  is  always  danger,  lest  wickedness,  conjoined  with  abili- 
ties, should  steal  upon  esteem,  though  it  misses  of  approbation; 
but  the  character  of  lago  is  so  conducted,  that  he  is  from  the 
first  scene  to  the  last  hated  and  despised. 

Even  the  inferior  characters  of  this  play  would  be  very  conspi- 
cuous in  any  other  piece,  not  only  for  their  justness,  but  their 
strength.  Cassio  is  brave,  benevolent,  and  honest,  ruined  only 
by  his  want  of  stubbornness  to  resist  an  insidious  invitation.  Ro- 
derigo's  suspicious  credulity,  and  impatient  submission  to  the 
cheats  which  he  sees  practised  upon  him,  and  which  by  persua- 
sion he  suffers  to  be  repeated,  exhibit  a  strong  picture  of  a  weak 
mind  betrayed  by  unlawful  desires  to  a  false  friend ;  and  the 
virtue  of  Emilia  is  such  as  we  often  find,  worn  loosely,  but  not 
cast  off,  easy  to  commit  small  crimes,  but  quickened  and  alarmed 
at  atrocious  villainies. 

The  scenes  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  are  busy,  varied  by 
happy  interchanges,  and  regularly  promoting  the  progression  of 
the  story;  and  the  narrative  in  the  end,  though  it  tells  but 
what  is  known  already,  yet  is  necessary  to  produce  the  death  of 
Othello. 

Had  the  scene  opened  in  Cyprus,  and  the  preceding  incidents 
been  occasionally  related,  there  had  been  little  wanting  to  a 
drama  of  the  most  exact  and  scrupulous  regularity.  JOHNSON. 

To  Dr.  Johnson's  admirable  and  nicely  discriminative  character 
of  Othello,  it  may  seem  unnecessary  to  make  any  addition  ;  yet 
I  cannot  forbear  to  conclude  our  commentaries  on  this  tran- 
scendent poet  with  the  fine  eulogy  which  the  judicious  and 
learned  Lowth  has  pronounced  on  him,  with  a  particular  refer- 
ence to  this  tragedy,  perhaps  the  most  perfect  of  all  his  works: 

"  In  his  viris  [tragediae  Graecae  scilicet  scriptoribusj  accessio 
quaedam  Philosophiae  eratPoetica  facultas :  neque  sane  quisquam 


523  OTHELLO, 

adhuc  Poesin  adfastigium  suum  ac  culmen  evexit,  nisi  qui  prius 
in  intima  Philosophia  artis  suae  fundamenta  jecerit. 

"  Quod  si  quis  objiciat,  nonnullos  in  hoc  ipso  poeseos  genere 
excelluisse,  qui  nunquam  habiti  sunt  Philosophi,  ac  ne  literis 
quidem  praeter  caeteros  imbuti;  sciat  is,  merem  ipsam  quaerere, 
non  de  vulgari  opinione,  aut  de  verbo  laborare:  qui  autem  tan- 
turn  ingenio  consecutus  est,  ut  naturas  hominum,  vimgue  omnem 
liumanitatiS)  causasque  eas,  quibus  aut  incitalur  mentis  impetus  aut 
retunditur,  penitus  perspectas  habeat,  ejusque  omnes  motus  orations 
non  modo  explicet,  scd  effingat,  planeque  oculis  suljiciat ;  scd  ex- 
citet,  regat,  commoveat,  moderctur;  eum,  etsi  disciplinarum  instru- 
mento  minus  adjutum,  eximie  tamen  esse  Philosophum  arhitrari. 
Quo  in  genere  affectum  Zelotypire,  ejusque  causas,  adjuncta, 
progressiones,  effectus,  in  una  SHAKSPEARI  nostri  fabula,  copi- 
osius,  subtilius,  accuratius  etiam  veriusque  pertractari  existimo, 
quam  ab  omnibus  omnium  Philosophorum  scholis  in  simili  argu- 
mento  est  unquam  disputattmi."  [Praelectio  prima.  edit.  1763, 
p.  8.]  MALONE. 

If  by  "  the  most  perfect"  is  meant  the  most  regular  of  the 
foregoing  plays,  I  subscribe  to  Mr.  Malone's  opinion  ;  but  if  his 
words  were  designed  to  convey  a  more  exalted  praise,  without 
a  moment's  hesitation  I  should  transfer  it  to  MACBETH. 

It  is  true,  that  the  domestick  tragedy  of  Othello  affords  room 
for  a  various  and  forcible  display  of  character.  The  less  familiar 
groundwork  of  Macbeth  (as  Dr.  Johnson  has  observed)  excludes 
the  influence  of  peculiar  dispositions.  That  exclusion,  however, 
is  recompensed  by  a  loftier  strain  of  poetry,  and  by  events  of 
higher  rank ;  by  supernatural  agency,  by  the  solemnities  of  in- 
cantation, by  shades  of  guilt  and  horror  deepening  in  their  pro- 
gress, and  by  visions  of  futurity  solicited  in  aid  of  hope,  but  even- 
tually the  ministers  of  despair. 

Were  it  necessary  to  weigh  the  pathetick  effusions  of  these 
dramas  against  each  other,  it  is  generally  allowed  that  the  sor- 
rows of  Desdemona  would  be  more  than  counterbalanced  by 
those  of  Macduff. 

Yet  if  our  author's  rival  pieces  (the  distinct  property  of  their 
subjects  considered)  are  written  with  equal  force,  it  must  still 
be  admitted  that  the  latter  has  more  of  originality.  A  novel  of 
considerable  length  (perhaps  amplified  and  embellished  by  the 
English  translator  of  it)  supplied  a  regular  and  circumstantial 
outline  for  OUtello;  while  a  few  slight  hints  collected  from  sepa- 
rate narratives  of  Holinshed,  were  expanded  into  the  sublime 
and  awful  tragedy  of  Macbeth, 

Should  readers,  who  are  alike  conversant  with  the  appropriate 
excellencies  of  poetry  and  painting,  pronounce  on  the  reciprocal 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          529 

merits  of  these  great  productions,  I  must  suppose  they  would 
describe  them  as  of  different  pedigrees.  They  would  add,  that 
one  was  of  the  school  of  Raphael,  the  other  from  that  of  Michael 
Angelo ;  and  that  if  the  steady  Sophocles  and  Virgil  should 
have  decided  in  favour  of  Othello,  the  remonstrances  of  the 
daring  ^Eschylus  and  Homer  would  have  claimed  the  laurel  for 
Macbeth. 

To  the  sentiments  of  Dr.  Lowth  respecting  the  tragedy  of 
Othello,  a  general  eulogium  on  the  dramatick  works  of  Shak- 
speare,  imputed  by  a  judicious  and  amiable  critick  to  Milton, 
may  be  not  improperly  subjoined  : 

"  There  is  good  reason  to  suppose  (says  my  late  friend  the 
Rev.  Thomas  Warton,  in  a  note  on  L: Allegro,}  that  Milton 
threw  many  additions  and  corrections  into  the  THE  AT  RUM 
POET  ARUM,  a  book  published  by  his  nephew  Edward  Philips,  in 
1675.  It  contains  criticisms  far  above  the  taste  of  that  period. 
Among  these  is  the  following  judgment  on  Shakspeare,  which 
was  not  then,  I  believe,  the  general  opinion." — "  In  tragedy, 
never  any  expressed  a  more  lofty  and  tragick  heighth,  never 
any  represented  nature  more  purely  to  the  life ;  and  where  the 
polishments  of  art  are  most  wanting,  as  probably  his  learning 
was  not  extraordinary,  he  pleases  with  a  certain  WILD  and  NA- 
TIVE elegance."  P.  194. 

What  greater  praise  can  any  poet  have  received,  than  that  of 
the  author  of  Paradise  Lost?  STEEVENS. 


See  p.  271. 

" Of  the  canibals,  that  each  other  eat, 

"  The  Anthropophagi ;  and  men  whose  heads 
"  Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders." 

These  lines  have  been  considered  by  Pope  and  others,  as  the 
interpolation  of  the  players,  or  at  least  vulgar  trash,  which  Shak- 
speare admitted  merely  to  humour  the  lower  part  of  his  audience. 
But  the  case  was  probably  the  very  reverse,  and  the  poet  rather 
VOL.  XIX.  2  M 


530  OTHELLO, 

meant  to  recommend  his  play  to  the  more  curious  and  refihed 
among  his  auditors,  by  alluding  here  to  some  of  the  most  extra- 
ordinary passages  in  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  celebrated  voyage  to 
Guiana,  performed  in  1595 :  in  which  nothing  excited  more 
universal  attention,  than  the  accounts  which  he  brought  from 
the  new  world  of  the  canibals,  Amazons,  and  especially  of  the 
nation 

" whose  heads 

"  Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders." 

Hear  his  own  solemn  relation :  "  Next  unto  the  Arvi"  [a 
river,  which  he  says  falls  into  the  Orenoque  or  Oronoko]  "  are 
two  rivers,  Atoica  and  Caora;  and  on  that  branch^  which  is 
called  Caora,  are  a  nation  of  people,  whose  heads  appear  not 
above  their  shoulders  ;  which  though  it  may  be  thought  a  meere 
fable,  yet  FOR  MINE  OWN  PART  i  AM  RESOLVED  IT  is  TRUE, 
because  every  childe  in  the  province  of  Arromaia  and  Canuri 
affirme  the  same:  they  are  called  Ewaipanoma;  they  are  re- 
ported to  have  their  eyes  in  their  shoulders,  and  their  mouthes 
in  the  middle  of  their  breasts,  and  that  a  long  traine  of  haire 
grbweth  backward  betweene  their  shoulders,"  &c. 

[See  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  Narrative  of  the  Discoverie  of 
Guiana,  printed  in  Hackluyt's  Voyages,  Vol.  III.  Lond.  1600, 
folio,  p.  652,  653,  665,  677,  &c.]  ' 

As  for  the  Anthropophagi,  or  canibals  "  that  each  other  eat," 
the  same  celebrated  voyager  tells  us  :  At  "  one  of  the  outlets  of 
Orenoque,  we  left  on  the  right  hand  of  us,  a  nation  of  inhu- 
maine  canibals,"  [p.  659.]  And  in  the  second  Voyage  to  Guiana, 
in  1596,  published  also  by  Sir  Walter,  one  of  the  nations,  called 
Ipaios,  are  thus  described :  "  They  are  but  few,  but  very  cruel 
to  their  enemies  ;  for  they  bind,  and  eat  them  alive  peecemeale. 
— These  Indians,  because  they  eate  them  whom  they  kill,  use 
no  poyson."  [Ibid.  p.  688.  See  also  p.  507,  516,  682,  &c.] 

These  extraordinary  reports  were  universally  credited,  and 
therefore  Othello  assumes  here  no  other  character  but  what  was 
very  common  among  the  celebrated  commanders  of  his  time — 
that  of  an  adventurer  and  voyager  into  the  East  or  West-Indies. 
As  for  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  strange  discoveries,  a  short  extract  of 
the  more  wonderful  passages  was  published  in  several  languages, 
accompanied  with  a  map  of  Guiana,  by  lodocus  Hondius,  a 
Dutch  geographer,  and  adorned  with  copper-plates,  representing 
these  Amazons,  canibals,  and  headless  people,  &c.  in  different 
points  of  view.  The  drawing  below  is  copied  from  the  frontis- 
piece to  one  of  these  pamphlets,  intitled,  Brevis  et  hdmiranda 
Descriptio  Regni  Guiana;,  fyc.  .  .  .  Quod  nifper  admodum  annia 
•nimirum,  1564,  1595,  et  1596,  per  .  .  .  Dn.  Gualtherum  Raleigh 
Equitem  Anglum  detectum  est. . .  . .  JLx  quibus  lodocus  Hondius 


THE  MOOR  OF  VENICE.          531 

tabulam  gcographicam  adornavit,  addita  cxplicatione  Belgico  Ser- 
mone  scripta:  Nunc  vero  in  Latinum  Scrmonem  translata,  fyc. 
Noribcrgae,  1559.  4to.  P. 


END    OF    VOL.    XIX. 


Printed  by  S.  Hamilton,  Weybridpe, 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
,   fhis  book  Is  DtUEton  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


u> 


tat  o  JUIH  8 1985 


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Form  L9-32m-8,'58(5876s4)441 


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OF  CALIFORNIA 
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3ELES    CALIF. 


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