Which wrought to his defire.
Oth. Oh fool, fool, fool!

Caf. There is, befides, in Rodorigo's letter,
How he upbraids Iago that he made him
Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
That I was caft; and even now he spake,
After long feeming dead, Iago hurt him,
lago fet him on.

-Lod. You must forfake this room, and go
Your Pow'r and your Command is taken off,
And Caffio rules in Cyprus. For this flave,
If there be any cunning cruelty,

with us;

That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It shall be his. You fhall close prisoner reft,
'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've done the State fome fervice, and they know't:
No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall thefe unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me, as I am: Nothing extenuate,
Nor fet down ought in malice. Then muft you speak
Of one that lov'd not wifely, but too well;
Of one, not eafily jealous; but being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whofe hand,
* Like the base Judian threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whofe eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as faft as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this:
And fay befides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk

Like the bafe Indian threw a pearl away] The oldeft Quarto reads, Judian, and this is certainly right. And by the Judian is meant Herod, whofe Ufage to Mariamne is fo oppofite to the Speaker's Cafe that a more proper Inftance could not be thought of. Befides, he was the Subject of Tragedy at that Time, as appears from the Words in Hamlet, where an ill Player is described,

-to out-herod Herod.

Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the State,

I took by the throat the circumcifed dog,
And fmote him thus.

Lod. O bloody period!

Gra. All, that is spoke, is marr'd.

[Stabs himself.

Oth. I kit thee, ere I kill'd thee.-No way but

this,

Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

[To Defdemona.

[dies. Caf. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon, For he was great of heart.

Lod. Oh Spartan dog.!

[To Iago.

More fell than anguish, hunger, or the fea!
Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
This is thy work; the object poifons fight,
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
And feize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they fucceed to you. To you, lord Governor,
Remains the cenfure of this hellish villain:
The time, the place, the torture, oh! inforce it.
Myfelf will ftraight aboard; and to the State
This heavy act, with heavy heart, relate.

[Exeunt.