Love). The drama might convey the impression that he is ignorant of human nature, or that, though past middle life, he is too young, too fresh in his knowledge of the deceits and subtleties of life, to depict the passion of jealousy truly. He will submit to that opinion, but adhere to his plan. If that is a mistake, he will love it all the same, and the dramas will exhibit his fault, but not rob him of his pleasure. The falsehoods he creates will best represent the faults of his characters.

SONNET 139.

O, call not Me to justify the wrong

That Thy unkindness lays upon My heart;

Wound Me not with Thine eye, but with Thy tongue;
Use power with power, and slay Me not by art.
Tell Me Thou lov'st elsewhere, but in My sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance Thine eye aside;

What need'st Thou wound with cunning when Thy might
Is more than My o'er-press'd defence can bide?
Let Me excuse Thee: ah! my Love well knows
Her pretty looks have been Mine enemies,
And therefore from My face she turns My foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries;
Yet do not so, but since I am near slain,

Kill Me outright with looks and rid My pain.

He will not justify the wrong with which his thoughts of human misery and distress have filled his heart. Thou (Truth), instead of blaming him, and using art and trickery to dissuade him from his work, should convince him by argument, "use power with power." If Thou's view

differ from his, yet Thou must stand by him and give him true counsel, and no cunningly devised expedients, for he is perplexed to know how to reconcile his thoughts with truth in the progress of the work. All the beauty and interest he has given to the love of Othello is now changed to jealousy and hate, and will end in murder. The difficulty of depicting this in character he is prone to think surpasses his skill.

SONNET 140.

Be wise as Thou art cruel; do not press

My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain,
Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express
The manner of My pity-wanting pain.

If I might teach Thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, Love, to tell me so,
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know;
For if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in My madness might speak ill of Thee:
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.

That I may not be so, nor Thou belied,

Bear Thine eyes straight, though Thy proud heart go wide.

In this stanza he determines the limit which he will give to Othello's grief, by causing Desdemona to give him the proper advice. It is as if one actor representing Desdemona was advising the representative of Othello. She says to him: "Don't overact and make yourself too offensive in your charges and epithets. Such a course would make

my part, which is remarkable for mildness and submission, untrue. To make it correspond to your severe reproof, unqualified by love, it would be natural for me in my extremity of sorrow to betray in words all that part of the charge against me which, by being concealed, is the strongest feature in the drama. My idea is, that you should affect love for me to the last. As men when near death hear nothing but encouragement from their physicians, so should it appear that, with a cruel death near, I am not unloved by my slayer. Without this it would be natural for me in my despair to make charges against you (Othello), and the audience by believing them would lose the charm of the play. That this may not occur, nor truth be belied, don't deviate from a truthful delineation, whatever your thoughts may be."

SONNET 141.

In faith, I do not love Thee with Mine eyes,

For they in Thee a thousand errors note;

But 't is My heart that loves what they despise,

Who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote;

Nor are Mine ears with Thy tongue's tune delighted,

Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,

Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited

To any sensual feast with Thee alone:

But My five wits nor My five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving Thee,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be;
Only My plague thus far I count My gain,
That she that makes Me sin awards Me pain.

The errors, crimes, and vices that he has depicted in Othello are not what he admires. It is the picture they present to his heart. His love for that is the love of a dotard. The words have no charm for his ear, nor is he attracted by the tender feeling of Othello transformed into jealousy. No sensual feeling is aroused by the beauty of the Tragedy, but neither his wits nor his senses can turn his thoughts from the man they have created. He sees in him the pure nobility of nature transformed by jealousy into a slave and demon, and in Desdemona a lovely woman, a triumph in portrayal, grossly belied and foully murdered.

SONNET 142.

Love is My sin and Thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of My sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O, but with Mine compare Thou Thine own state,
And Thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
Or, if it do, not from those lips of Thine,
That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments
And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as Mine,
Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love Thee, as Thou lov'st Those
Whom Thine eyes woo as Mine importune Thee;
Root pity in Thy heart, that when it grows
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.

If Thou dost seek to have what Thou dost hide,
By self-example may'st Thou be denied!

He has in this Tragedy striven to show how a pure and unstained love, between husband and wife, may be ruined by hate inspired by the hus

band's jealousy, and end in the destruction of both. And Thou (Truth), as guilty as himself in making false vows, breaking marital ties, and violating nuptial faith, has no reason to reprove his work. He has not violated Truth more than Thou (Truth) himself has violated it in the thoughts he has portrayed, which, though harsh, have been alleviated by pity; and that pity has in its turn wrought pity for Othello's misery. If Truth seeks to reveal what he has kept concealed, the real truth of the purity of Desdemona, and the cause of Othello's jealousy, prematurely, his own example should restrain him.

SONNET 143.

Lo! as a cheerful housewife runs to catch
One of her feather'd creatures broke away,

Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatch
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay,
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent
To follow that which flies before her face,
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent;

So run'st Thou after that which flies from Thee,
Whilst I, Thy babe, chase Thee afar behind:
But if Thou catch Thy hope, turn back to Me,
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind;

So will I pray that Thou may'st have Thy Will,
If Thou turn back, and My loud crying still.

The closing scene of Othello perplexed the author with the idea that he had not been entirely true to nature in the delineation of character. He illustrates the doubt by a figure. Thou (Truth),