which are still the official designations of the field-marshals of Europe. When in actual service, he wore the knight's armour of the age, with the mantle and baton. Othello, though he could not hold this office if he were a Venetian, could not have held office at all unless a Christian in profession, and must, of course, have assumed the appropriate costume as much as if he had been a Frenchman, or a German, or a Neapolitan. Thus much for the antiquarian accuracy of the costume, without regard to what may have been Shakespeare's own ideal portrait of the Moor. But of his intention on this point, there cannot be much doubt. He did not conceive his Moor as attired in Mohammedan costume. The Moor is one who would not "renounce his baptism, the seals and symbols of redeemed sin." In his last breath, he describes the "dog" whom he smote for beating a Venetian and traducing Venice, as a "malignant and a turban'd Turk." This the Poet could not mean for a portrait of the state's own commanding general, who elsewhere speaks of his own "helm." The Turks too, are the enemies of Venice; and no dramatic poet could have conceived so gross an incongruity as the general of any Christian state wearing the uniform and customary attire of the enemies whom he is to combat. But Othello-so far from being represented as a person negligent of these matters-is a soldier, delighting in "all quality, pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war." Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster: And I, (God bless the mark!) his Moor-ship's an cient. 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, and affection, Rod. I would not follow him, then. Iago. O, sir! content you; I follow him to serve my turn upon him: Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are, Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; And such a one do I profess myself. For, Sir, owe, If he can carry't 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 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! Enter BRABANTIO, above, at a window. Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? Rod. Signior, is all your family within? Bra. Why? wherefore ask you this? Iago. Sir! you are robbed; for shame, put on But thou must needs be sure, Rod. My house is not a grange. 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, 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 now making the beast with two backs. But if you know not this, my manners tell me, I thus would play and trifle with your reverence: Bra. [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 With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, (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, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; Enter BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches. Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is; And what's to come of my despised time, 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! she deceives me Past thought.-What said she to you?-Get more tapers! Raise all my kindred!-Are they married, think you? Rod. Truly, I think, they are. Bra. O heaven!-How got she out?-O, treason of the blood! Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds By what you see them act.-Are there not charms, By which the property of youth and maidhood May be abus'd?-Have you not read, Roderigo, Of some such thing? Rod. Yes, sir; I have, indeed. Bra. Call up my brother.-O, would you had had her! Some one way, some another.-Do you know Rod. I think, I can discover him, if you please I may command at most.-Get weapons, ho! [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The Same. Another Street. Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants, with torches. Iago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience To do no contriv'd murder: I lack iniquity |