for these my faithful offices,-none else; but since my duty, and the jealous care I bear your honour, have carried me thus far, I do repeat, so stands the truth as you have heard it from these lips: and if the lady Disdemona hath, with a false show of love for you, blinded your eyes to what you should have seen, this is no argument but that I speak the truth. Nay, this same captain told it me himself, like one whose happiness is incomplete until he can declare it to another. But since informing you brings me so undeserved a recompense, would I had held my peace!'

Then the Moor, burning with indignation and anguish, said, 'Make thou these eyes self-witnesses of what thou tellest, or on thy life I'll make thee wish thou hadst been born without a tongue.'

'An easy task it would have been,' replied the villain, 'when he was used to visit at your house; but now that you have banished him, not for just cause, but for a frivolous pretext, it will be hard to prove the truth. Still I do not forego the hope, to make you witness of that which you will not credit from my lips.' Thus they parted.

Disdemona often used to go, as I have already said, to visit the ensign's wife, and remained with her a good part of the day. Now the ensign observed that she carried about with her a handkerchief, which he knew the Moor had given her, finely embroidered in the Moorish fashion, and which was precious to Disdemona, nor less so to the Moor. Then he conceived the plan of taking this kerchief from her secretly, and thus laying the snare for her final ruin. The ensign had a little daughter, a child three years of age, who was much loved by Disdemona; and one day, when the unhappy lady had gone to pay a visit at the house of this vile man, he took the little child up in his arms, and carried her to Disdemona, who took her, and pressed her to her bosom; whilst at the same instant this traitor drew the kerchief from her sash so cunningly, that she did not notice him, and, overjoyed, he took his leave of her.

Disdemona returned home, and, busied with other thoughts, forgot the handkerchief. But a few days afterwards, looking

for it, and not finding it, she was in alarm lest the Moor should ask her for it, as he oft was wont to do. Meanwhile the wicked ensign, seizing a fit opportunity, went to the captain of the troop, and, with crafty malice, left the handkerchief at the head of his bed, and the following morning, on his getting out of bed, the handkerchief fell upon the floor. Not being able to imagine how it had come into his house, knowing that it belonged to Disdemona, he resolved to give it her; and waiting until the Moor had gone from home, he went to the back door, and knocked. Just at that time the Moor returned home, and hearing a knocking at the back door, he went to the window, and, in a rage, exclaimed, 'Who knocks there ?' The captain, hearing the Moor's voice, and fearing lest he should come downstairs and attack him, took to flight without answering a word. The Moor went down, and opening the door, hastened into the street, and looked about, but in vain. Then returning into the house, in great anger, he demanded of his wife who it was that had knocked at the door. Disdemona replied that she did not know: but the Moor said, 'It seemed to me the captain.'

'I know not,' answered Disdemona.

The Moor restrained his fury, wishing to do nothing before consulting the ensign, to whom he hastened instantly, and told him all that had passed, praying him to gather from the captain all he could respecting the affair. The ensign, overjoyed at the occurrence, promised the Moor to do as he requested; and one day he took occasion to speak with the captain, when the Moor was so placed that he could see and hear them as they conversed. And whilst talking to him of every other subject than of Disdemona, he kept laughing all the time aloud; and feigning astonishment, he made various movements with his head and hands, as if listening to some tale of marvel. As soon as the Moor saw the captain depart, he went up to the ensign, to hear what he had said to him. And the ensign, after long entreaty, at length said 'He has hidden from me nothing, and has told me that he has been used to visit your wife whenever you went from home, and

that, on the last occasion, she gave him the handkerchief which you presented to her when you married her.'

The Moor thanked the ensign, and it seemed now clear to him that, should he find Disdemona not to have the handkerchief, it was all true that the ensign had told him. One day, therefore, after dinner, in conversation with his wife on various subjects, he asked her for the kerchief. The unhappy lady, who had been in great fear of this, grew red as fire at this demand; and to hide the scarlet of her cheeks, which was closely noted by the Moor, she ran to a chest, and pretended to seek the handkerchief: and after hunting for it a long time, she said, 'I know not how it is-I cannot find it -can you perchance have taken it ?'

'If I had taken it,' said the Moor, 'why should I ask it of you? but you will look better another time.'

On leaving the room, the Moor fell to meditating how he should put his wife to death, and likewise the captain of the troop, so that their death should not be laid to his charge. And as he ruminated over this night and day, he could not prevent his wife's observing that he was not the same toward her as he had been wont; and she said to him, again and again, 'What is the matter? what troubles you? how comes it that you, who were the most light-hearted man in the world, are now so melancholy?'

The Moor feigned various reasons in reply to his wife's questioning, but she was not satisfied; and, although conscious that she had given the Moor no cause, by act or deed, to be so troubled, yet she feared that he might have grown weary of her; and she would say to the ensign's wife, 'I know not what to say of the Moor; he used to be all love toward me; but within these few days he has become another man. But as I know the Moor is on such terms of friendship with your husband, and communicates to him all his affairs, I pray you, if you have heard from him aught that you may tell me of, fail not to befriend me.' And as she said this she wept bitterly.

The ensign's wife, who knew the whole truth (her husband wishing to make use of her to compass the death of Disde

mona), but could never consent to such a project, dared not, from fear of her husband, disclose a single circumstance: all she said was, 'Beware lest you give any cause of suspicion to your husband, and show to him by every means your fidelity and love.'

'Indeed, I do so,' replied Disdemona; but it is all of no avail.'

Meanwhile, the Moor sought in every way to convince himself of what he fain would have found untrue; and he prayed the ensign to contrive that he might see the handkerchief in the possession of the captain.

Now the captain had a wife at home, who worked the most marvellous embroidery upon lawn; and seeing the handkerchief which belonged to the Moor's wife, she resolved, before it was returned to her, to work one like it. As she was engaged in this task, the ensign observed her standing at a window, where she could be seen by all passers-by in the street; and he pointed her out to the Moor, who was now perfectly convinced of his wife's guilt. Then he arranged with the ensign to slay Disdemona and the captain of the troop. And the Moor prayed the ensign that he would kill the captain, promising eternal gratitude to him.

The ensign going out one dark night, sword in hand, met the captain, on his way to visit a courtesan, and struck him a blow on his right thigh, which cut off his leg, and felled him to the earth. Then the ensign was on the point of putting an end to his life, when the captain, who was a courageous man, drew his sword, and, wounded as he was, kept on his defence, exclaiming with a loud voice, 'I'm murdered!' Thereupon the ensign, hearing the people come running up, with some of the soldiers who were lodged thereabouts, took to his heels, to escape being caught; then turning about again, he joined the crowd, pretending to have been attracted by the noise. And when he saw the captain's leg cut off, he judged that, if not already dead, the blow must at all events end his life; and whilst in his heart he rejoiced at this, he yet feigned to compassionate the captain as he had been his brother.

The next morning the tidings of this affair spread through the whole city, and reached the ears of Disdemona; whereat she, who was kind-hearted, and little dreamed that any ill would betide her, evinced the greatest grief at the calamity. This served but to confirm the Moor's suspicions, and he went to seek for the ensign, and said to him, 'Do you know, that ass my wife is in such grief at the captain's accident, that she is well-nigh gone mad.'

'And what could you expect, seeing he is her very soul?' replied the ensign.

Ay, soul forsooth;' exclaimed the Moor; I'll draw the soul from out her body: call me no man, if that I fail to shut the world upon this wretch.'

Then they consulted of one means and another-poison and daggers-to kill poor Disdemona, but could resolve on nothing. At length the ensign said, ‘A plan comes to my mind, which will give you satisfaction, and raise cause for no suspicion,-it is this: the house in which you live is very old, and the ceiling of your chamber has many cracks; I propose we take a stocking, filled with sand, and beat Disdemona with it till she dies: thus will her body bear no signs of violence. When she is dead, we can pull down a portion of the ceiling, and thus make it seem as if a rafter, falling on her head, had killed the lady.'

This cruel counsel pleased the Moor, and he only waited for a fitting time to execute the plot. One night, when he and Disdemona had retired to bed, the ensign, whom the Moor had concealed in a closet which opened into the chamber, raised a noise in the closet, according to a concerted plan; whereat the Moor said to his wife, 'Did you not hear that noise ?'

'Indeed, I heard it,' she replied.

'Rise,' said the Moor, and see what it is.'

The unhappy Disdemona rose from bed, and the instant she approached the closet, out rushed the ensign, and being strong and of stout nerve, he beat her cruelly with the bag of sand across her back; upon which Disdemona fell to the ground, scarce able to draw her breath: but with the little