9th B. IV. Oct. 14, '99.] 303 NOTES AND QUERIES. was, and afterwards saw himself to have been — he thought he had, was the " cause " of the terrible deed he was about to do. How did he excuse the deed, when done, to Emilia ?— O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell But that 1 did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity. Thy liusband Knew it all. V. ii. 138. Me. Dey makes too much of the one line Yet she must die, else she '11 betray more men. Shakespeare, like Homer, sometimes nods, and I humbly think this very refined reason for Desdemona's death was too fine for Othello. He speaks more consistently with himself when he says that he could not bear the thought that Desdemona, the " fountain " of his life, should remain to bo A cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in. IV. ii. 61. Mr. Dey speaks of Desdemona's "act of infidelity " as if, in Othello's belief, she had sinned only once, and he thought it merciful kindness to kill her that she might not sin again. Compare this very subdued view with the following passage :— Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. Oth. O, ay ; as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. 0 thou weed, Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born! Dei. Alas ! what ignorant sin have I committed ? Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book. Made to write " whore upon? What committed ! Committed ! 0 thou public commoner ! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed! Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks : The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear it. What committed ! Impudent strumpet! No wonder that Othello would not " name " to the " chaste stars" deeds which heaven loathed, at which the moon winked, and which the winds would not listen to. What other, after all, is Mr. Dey's own conclusion 1 " It is this depravity in one whom he had believed to be pure and good which Othello deems unfit to ne named to the chaste stars." K. M. Spence, D.D. ' Hamlet,' I. v. 77.— Unhousel'd. disappointed, unaneled. To American readers of Shakespeare in general, and to American Roman Catholic readers in particular, the word "disap- pointed " has long been a standing crux. Will not some competent British student of the immortal William help us out of our difficulty? What we—I mean the aforesaid Roman Catholics—urgently need is some interpreta- tion of " disappointed " which can be made to square with the context, and with the sacra- mental teachings of the Roman Catholic Church, to which teachings and the practices founded thereon Shakespeare is evidently alluding. May it not be that the line, as it stands in the Cambridge and Oxford editions, is incurably corrupt ? The question has re- cently been discussed at some length in the literary columns of the New York Times. The present writer ventured to suggest a new and somewhat violent departure from the tradi- tional text. He would read :— Unshriven, unhousel'd, unaneled. John Baxter. Passaic, New Jersey. 'Tempest,' III. i. 9-15.— Fer. I must remove Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up Upon a sore injunction : my sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness Had never like executor. I forget: But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, Most busy lest, when I do it. The scene opens, "Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log"; he is speaking of his work, and Miranda, who enters while he is engaged in it, says, Alas, now, pray you, Work not so hard ":—he has not forgotten his task. The words " such baseness Had never like exe- cutor " recall to mind who he is—the best of them that speak this speech, and the recent sad event—his father's loss, the wreck of all his friends. What he has temporarily for- gotten through the intrusion of these sweet thoughts is his great sorrow. The emphatic statement "do even refresh my labours," together with the adversative " But," in- dicates a contrast between the effect of "these sweet thoughts" and of his sad thoughts which depress, "Most busy lest" being merely a restatement in brief of this happy effect (" lest" being understood as least). Whilst for us, who know that Ferdinand's bereavement is only imaginary and that these poor matters point to rich ends, the situation has no tragic aspect, to him it is very real, and we can understand the self-reproach ot this sensitive, high-minded youth, under a conviction of having failed in a certain degree of filial regard, and can readily excuse Kirn, considering his hard lot, for having taken consolation from such a source—"I forget: but these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, make my most busy toil seem least so, when I do it" ("I do it" referring to " I forget"). If, however, we are to suppose that " forget" refers to Ferdinand's labours, there is good /
