Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a venial flip: But if I give my wife a handkerchief Oth. What then? lago. Why then, 'tis hers, my Lord; and, being hers, She may, I think, beflow't on any man. Oth. She is protectress of her honour too; May the give that? lago. Her honour is an effence that's not feen, They have it very oft, that have it not: But for the handkerchief Oth. By heav'n, I would moft gladly have forgot it ; Thou faid'ft -oh, it comes o'er my memory, As doth the raven o'er th' infected house, Boding to ill, he had my handkerchief. lago. Ay, what of that? Orh. That's not fo good now. Iago. What if I faid, I'd feen him do you wrong? Or heard him fay, (as knaves be fuch abroad, (44)? Who having by their own importunate fuit, Or voluntary dotage of fome mistress, Convinc'd or fuppled them, they cannot chufe (44) -as knaves be fuck abroad,, Who having by their own importunate fuit, Convinced or fupplied them, cannot chufe Oth But they must blab.] I alter'd this, as I have now reform'd the text, in the Appendix to my SHAKESPEARE Reftor'd. I cannot understand the vulgar reading, which poffeffes the copies. My emen. dation makes the fenfe of the paffage eafy and intelligible: that there are fome fuch long-tongued knaves in the world, who, if they thro the force of importunity extort a favour from their mistress, or if thro ber own fondness they make her pliant to their defires, cannot help boafting of their fuccefs. To convince, here, is not, as in the common acceptation, to make fenfible of the truth of any thing by, reafons and arguments; but to overcome, get the better of, &c.. So, in Macbeth; Oth. Hath he faid any thing?" Iago. He hath, My Lord; but be you well affur'd, No more than he'll unfwear. Oth. What hath he said ? Iago. Why, that he did-I know not what he didOth. What? what? Iago. Lie Oh. With her? lago. With her; on her what you will Oth. Lie with her! lie on her! lie with her! that's fulfome handkerchief-confeffions-handkerchiefhandherchief-to confefs, and be hang'd for his labourFirst, to be hang'd, and then-to confefs!-I tremble at it-Nature would not invest herself in fuch fhadowing without fome inftruction. It is not words, that shake me thus-pifh-nofes, ears, and lips-is't poffible !confefs!—handkerchief!-oh devil— [Falls in a trance. Iago. Work on, My medicine, work! thus credulous fools are caught; How now, Caffio? Enter Caffio. Caf. What's the matter? And, fo, in Cymbeline ; Your Italy contains none fo accomplish'd a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress. To fupple, (a verb form'd from the adjective) 'tis well known, fignifies, to make pliant and flexible and is, particularly, a term in Surgery, when any part fwoln and ftiff is, by fomentations, &c. reduced, and made foft and pliable. I find the word used in our Author's time, in the fenfe that I here make it bear. Shall have a feeling. Fit. Bro. The nerves. And you, mas broker, -So it fupple, Sir, Staple of News. Spanish Curate. He's monstrous vex'd, and mufty at my chefs-play, But this fhall fupple him, when he has read it. Cypr. Thought and affection cannot be controll'd. Phil. Yet may't be bent and fuppled with extreams... Dumb Knight. Tago. My Lord is fell into an Epilepfy, The lethargy must have his quiet courfe ; He will recover ftraight; when he is gone, I would on great occafion speak with you. [Exit Caffio. How is it, General ? have you not hurt your head? Oth. Doft thou mock me? Lago. I mock you not, by heav'n; Would you would bear your fortunes like a man. Oth. A horned man's a monster, and a beast. Iago. There's many a beaft, then, in a populous city, And many a civil monster. Oth. Did he confefs it? Iago. Good Sir, be a man: Think, every bearded fellow, that's but yok'd, May draw with you. Millions are now alive, That nightly lie in thofe unproper beds, Which they dare fwear peculiar. Your cafe is better, And to fuppofe her chafte. No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be. Oth. Oh, thou art wife; 'tis certain. lago. Stand you awhile apart, Confine yourself but in a patient lift. Whilft you were here, o'erwhelmed with your grief, Bade him anon return, and here speak with me; He He hath, and is again to cope your wife. I fay, but mark his gefture. Marry, patience; Oth. Doft thou hear, lago? I will be found moft cunning in my patience; lago. That's not amifs; But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw? Now will I question Caffio of Bianca, [Othello withdraws. A housewife, that, by felling her defires, Buys herself bread and cloth. It is a creature, Enter Caffio. 7 Here he comes As he fhall fmile, Othello fhall go mad; Poor Caffic's fimiles, geftures, and light behaviour," Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are fure on't: Now, if this fute lay in Bianca's power, How quickly fhould you speed? Oth. Look, how he laughs already. [Speaking lower. Afide. Iage. I never knew a woman love man fo. Caf. Alas, poor rogue, I think, indeed, she loves me. Oth. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs out. [Afide. Iago Do you hear, Caffio? Oth. Now he importunes him. To tell it o'er: go to, well faid, well faid. Iago. She gives it out, that you shall marry her. Do you intend it? Caf. Ha, ha, ha! Afide. Oth Q. Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph? [Afide Caf. I marry her!-What? a cuftomer? pry'thee, bear fome charity to my wit, do not think it fo unwholfome. Ha, ha, ha! Oth. So, fo; they laugh that win. lago. I am a very villain elfe. Oth. Have you fcor'd me! well. [Afide. fhall marry her. [Afide. Caf. This is the monkey's own giving out: the is perfuaded, I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promife. Oth. Jag beckons me; now he begins the ftory. [Afide. Caf. She was here even now: fhe haunts me in every placé. I was the other day talking on the fea-bank with certain Venetians, and thither comes the bauble, and falls me thus about my neck Oth. Crying, "Oh dear Cafo, as it were:" his gefture imports it. [Afide. Caf. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me, fo fhakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha! Oth. Now he tells, how the pluckt him to my chamber: oh I fee that nofe of yours, but not that dog I fhall throw it to. Caf. Well, I muft leave her company. Lago. Before me! look, where fhe comes. Enter Bianca. [Ande. Caf. 'Tis fuch another fitchew: marry, a perfum'd one:-What do you mean by this haunting of me ? Bian. Let the devil and his dam haunt you! what did you mean by that fame handkerchief, you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it: I must take out the work? A likely piece of work, that you should find it in your chamber, and know not who left it there. This is fome minxe's token, and I must take out the work? there-give it your hobby-horfe: wherefoever you had it, I'll take out no work on't. Caf |