Her father lov'd me; oft invited me; From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes, I ran it through, even from my boyish days, Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach; O being taken by the insolent foe, And sold to slavery: of my redemption thence, * These things to hear, Would Desdemona seriously incline: ut still the house affairs would draw her thence; Which ever as she could with haste despatch, he'd come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse: Which I observing, Took once a pliant hour; and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcelst she had something heard, But not intentively:‡ I did consent; And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke, That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore,-In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; "Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful; She wish'd, she had not heard it: yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me; And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, should but teach him how to tell my story, * My behaviour. † Parts. Intention and attention were once synonymous. And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake: ACT II. PERFECT CONTENT. O my soul's joy! If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, [Exit DESDEMONA Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, OTHELLO'S FIRST SUSPICION. By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought thing: I heard thee say but now-Thou lik'dst not that, Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me, Iago. My lord, you know I love you. Oth. I think, thou dost; And, for I know thou art full of love and honesty, And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath,― Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: For such things, in a false disloyal knave, Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just, They are close denotements, working from the heart, That passion cannot rule. REPUTATION. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he, that filches from me my good name, Robs me of that, which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. OTHELLO'S JEALOUSY GAINING GRound. And knows all qualities with a learned spirit, Must be to loath her. O curse of marriage, * A species of hawk, also a term of reproach applied to a wanton. + Straps of leather by which a hawk is held on the fist. Men of intrigue. Than keep a corner in the thing I love, For other's uses. DEFINITION OF JEALOUSY. Trifles, light as air, Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong lago. Look, where he comes! [Enter Othello. Not poppy, nor mandragora,* Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Qth. To me? Ha! ha! false to me? Iago. Why, how now, general? no more of that. Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack: I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd, How now, my lord? Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, Pioneerst and all, had tasted her sweet body, So I had nothing known: O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner; and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats * The mandrake has a soporific quality. † Possessed'st. The vilest of the camp. Pioneers were degraded soldiers. generally The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone! Iago. Is it possible!-My lord, Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore; Be sure of it; give me the occular proof: [Taking him by the throat. Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog, Iago. Is it come to this? Oth. Make me to see it; or (at the least) so prove it, That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop, To hang a doubt on: or, wo upon thy life! Iago. My noble lord Oth. If thou doth slander her, and torture me, Never pray more: abandon all remorse:* On horror's head horrors accumulate: Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd, For nothing canst thou to damnation add, Greater than that. Iago. O grace! O heaven defend me! Are you a man? have you a soul, or sense?— God be wi' you; take mine office.-O wretched fool, That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice! O monstrous world! Take note! take note, O world, To be direct and honest, is not safe. I thank you for this profit; and, from hence, I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence. Oth. As mine own face.-If there be cords, or knives, I I'll not endure it.-Would, I were satisfied! * All tenderness, all pity. |