INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.

would see plainer," said the ensign. The romancewriter continues to display the perfidious intrigues of the ensign against Desdemona. He steals a handker chief which the Moor had given her, employing the agency of his own child. He contrives with the Moor to murder the captain of Cyprus, after he has made the credulous husband listen to a conversation to which he gives a false colour and direction; and, finally, the Moor and the guilty officer destroy Desdemona together, under circumstances of great brutality. The crime is, however, concealed, and the Moor is finally betrayed by his accomplice.

On the 6th of October, 1621, Thomas Walkley entered infidelity, and to connect with the accusation a captain at Stationers' Hall The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Cyprus. That officer, having struck a centinel, was of Venice.' In 1622 Walkley published the edition for discharged from his command by the Moor; and Deswhich he had thus claimed the copy. It is, as was usual demona, interested in his favour, endeavoured to reinwith the separate plays, a small quarto. It is by no state him in her husband's good opinion. The Moor means certain to our minds that Walkley's edition was said one day to the ensign, that his wife was so imporpublished before the folio. The usual date of that edi-tunate for the restoration of the officer, that he must tion is 1623; but there is a copy in existence bearing | take him back. "If you would open your eyes, you the date of 1622. We have, however, no doubt, that the copy of Othello' in the folio was printed from a manuscript copy, without reference to the quarto. The folio edition is regularly divided into acts and scenes; the quarto edition has not a single indication of any subdivision in the acts, and omits the division between Acts 11. and 11. The folio edition contains 163 lines which are not found in the quarto, and these some of the most striking in the play: the number of lines found in the quarto which are not in the folio do not amount to 10. The quarto, then, has not the merit of being the fuller copy. Believing the folio to be the more genuine copy, our text, for the most part, follows that authority. When Shakspere first became acquainted with the 'Moor of Venice' of Giraldi Cinthio (whether in the original Italian, or the French translation, or in one of the little story-books that familiarized the people with the romance and the poetry of the south), he saw in that novel the scaffolding of Othello.' There was formerly in Venice a valiant Moor, says the story. It came to pass that a virtuous lady of wonderful beauty, named Desdemona, became enamoured of his great qualities and noble virtues. The Moor loved her in return, and they were married in spite of the opposition of the lady's friends. It happened too (says the story), that the senate of Venice appointed the Moor to the command of Cyprus, and that his lady determined to accompany him thither. Amongst the officers who attended upon the General was an ensign, of the most agreeable person, but of the most depraved nature. The wife of this man was the friend of Desdemona, and they spent much of their time together. The wicked eusign became violently enamoured of Desdemona; but she, whose thoughts were wholly engrossed by the Moor, was utterly regardless of the ensign's attentions. His love then became terrible hate, and he resolved to accuse Desdemona to her husband of

Mr. Dunlop, in his History of Fiction,' has pointed out the material differences between the novel and the tragedy. He adds, " In all these important variations, Shakspere has improved on his original. In a few other particulars he has deviated from it with less judgment; in most respects he has adhered with close imitation. The characters of Iago, Desdemona, and Cassio, are taken from Cinthio with scarcely a shade of difference. The obscure hints and various artifices of the villain to raise suspicion in the Moor are the same in the novel and the drama." M. Guizot, with the eye of real criticism, has seen somewhat further than Mr. Dunlop: "There was wanting in the narrative of Ciuthio the poetical genius which furnished the actors-which created the individuals-which imposed upon each a figure and a character-which made us see their actions, and listen to their words-which presented their thoughts and penetrated their sentiments :-that vivifying power which summons events to arise, to progress, to expand, to be completed :--that creative breath which, breathing over the past, calls it again into being, and fills it with a present and imperishable life :-this was the power which Shakspere alone possessed, and by which, out of a forgotten novel, he has made 'Othello.`"

O THE L L O.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

SCENE, FOR THE FIRST ACT, IN VENICE; DURING THE REST OF THE PLAY, AT A SEA-PORT IN

CYPRUS.

ACT I.

Whip me such honest knaves: 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,
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,

Were I the Moor I would not be Iago.
In following him I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In complement extern, 't is not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
Rod. What a fall Fortune does the Thick-lips owe,
If he can carry 't thus !

Call up her father,

Iago.
Rouse him make after him, poison his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kiusmen,
And though he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such chances 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.

Rod. What, hoa! Brabantio! signior Brabantio, hoa!
Iago. Awake; what, hoa! Brabantio! thieves!
thieves!

Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags!
Thieves! thieves!

BRABANTIO, above.

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summous?
What is the matter there?

Rod. Signior, is all your family within?
Iago. Are your doors lock'd?
Bra.

Why, wherefore ask you this?
Iago. Sir, you are robb'd; for shameb put on your

gown;

Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul
Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise;
Awake the 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?

Patience, good sir.

Rod.
Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is
Venice;

My house is not a grange.a

Rod.

Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you.

Iago. Sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service, and you think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse: you'll have your nephews neigh to you: you'll have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans.

Bra. What profane wretch art thou?

Iago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are making the beast with two backs.

If 't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
(As partly I find it is,) that your fair daughter,
At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night,
Transported with no worse nor better guard.
But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor:
If this be known to you, and your allowance,
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs
But if you know not this, my manners tell me
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
That, from the sense of all civility,

I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,—
I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,
In an extravagant and wheeling stranger,
Of here and every where: Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you.

Bra.

Strike on the tinder, hoa!
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 from above.
Iago. Farewell; for I must leave you:
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produc'd (as, if I stay, I shall)
Against the Moor; For, I do know, the state
(However this may gall him with some check)
Cannot with safety cast him. For he 's embark'd

Kcd. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars,
Bra. Not I; what are you?

(Which even now stand in act,) that for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have none
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

Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches.
Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is,

a Grange. Strictly speaking, the farm-house of a monastery. But it is used by the old writers as a separate dwelling. Nephews. The word was formerly used to siguify a grandson, or any lineal descendant.

Extravagant-wandering, unsettled.

The Sagittary. This is generally taken to be an inn. was the residence at the arsenal of the commanding officers of the navy and army of the republic. The figure of an archer with his drawn bow, over the gates, still indicates the place.