The
characterization of Othello in the rest of this scene is anything but
happy. He talks too much; I miss the short sharp words which would show
the man used to command, and not only does he talk too much, but he
talks in images like a poet, and exaggerates:
"The tyrant Custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down."
Even the matter here is insincere; this is the poet's explanation of the
Captain's preference for a hard bed and hard living: "has been
accustomed to it," says Shakespeare, not understanding that there are
born hunter and soldier natures who absolutely prefer hardships to
effeminate luxury. Othello's next speech is just as bad; he talks too
much of things particular and private, and the farther he goes, the
worse he gets, till we again hear the poet speaking, or rather mouthing:
"No, when light-winged toys
Of feathered Cupid seel with wanton dullness
My speculative and officed instruments,
That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
And all indign and base adversities
Make head against my estimation.
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