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so grosser issues, ncr to larger reach,
Than to suspicion.
Oth. I will not.
so, my lord,
My speech should fall into such vile success
As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend :-
My lord, I see you are mov’d.
No, not much mov'd :-
I do not think but Desdemona's honest.
Iago. Long live she so ! and long live you to think so !
Oth. And yet, how nature erring from itself,-
Iago. Ay, there's the point :-As,—to be bold with you,-
Not to affect many proposed matches,
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree;
Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends :
Foh! one may smell, in such, a will most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. -
But, pardon me; I do not in position,
Distinctly speak of her: though I may fear,
Fler will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And (happily) repent.
Farewell, farewell :
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife to observe: Leave me, Iago.
lago. My lord, I take my leave.
[Going Oih. Why did I marry ?--This honest creature, doubtless, Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
Iago. My lord, I would, I might entreat your honor
To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
And though it be fit that Cassio have his place,
(For, sure, he fills it up with great ability,)
Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
You shall by that perceive him and his means :
Note, if your lady strain his entertainment
With any strong or vehement importunity;
Much will be seen in that. In the meantime,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,
(As worthy cause I have, to fear-I am,)
And hold her free, I do beseech your honor.
Oth. Fear not my government.
Iago. I once more take my leave.
Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings : If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings,
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind,
Το prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black;
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have: Or, for I am declin'd
Into the vale of years ;-yet that's not much ;-
She's gone; I am abus’d; and my relief
Must be to loath her. Desdemona comes.
Enter DESDEMONA, and EMILIA,
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!
I'll not believe it.
How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.
Oth. I am to blame.
Des. Why is your speech so faint ? are you not well ?
Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.
Des. Faith, that's with watching ; 'twill away again :
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.
Your napkin is too little ;
[He puts the handkerchief from him, and it drops. Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.
[Exeunt OTH. and Des. Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin; This was her first remembrance from the Moor: · My wayward husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to steal it: but she so loves the token, (For he conjur'd her, she would ever keep it) That she reserves it evermore about her, To kiss, and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out, And give it Iago; What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I; I nothing, but to please his fantasy.
Iago. How now! what do you here alone ?
Emil. Do not you chide ; I have a thing for you.
Iago. A thing for me ?-it is a common thing.
Emil. Ha !
Iago. To have a foolish wife.
Emil. O, is that all ? What will you give me now
For that same handkerchief ?
Emil. What handkerchief ?
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona ;
That which so often you did bid me steal.
Iago. Hast stolen it from her ?
Emil. No, faith ; she let it drop by negligence; And, to the advantage, I, being here, took 't up. Look, here it is.
Iago. Give it me.
Emil. What will you do with it, that you have been so earnest ['w have me filch it ? Iago. Why, what's that to you?
[Snatching it. Emil. If it be not for some purpose of import, Give it me again : Poor lady! she'll run mad, When she shall lack it.
Iugo. Be not you known of't; I have use for it. Go, leave me.
I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it : Trifles, light as air,
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ.
Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow’dst yesterday.
Ha ! ha! false to me?
To me ?
Iago. Why, how now, general ? no more of that?
Oth. Avaunt! begone! thou hast set me on the rack.
Iago. I am sorry to hear this.
Oth. O now,
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 immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeít,
Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone !
Iago. Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,
Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand ?
Oth. I gave her such a one ; 'twas my first gift.
Iago. I know not that: but such a handkerchief,
(I am sure it was your wife's,) did I to-day
See Cassio wipe his beard with.
If it be that,
Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers,
It speaks against her, with the other proofs.
Oth. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives:
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge!
Now do I see 'tis true.-Look here, Iago;
fond love thus I do blow to heaven:
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell !
Yield up, O love, thy crown, and hearted throne,
To tyrannous hate! swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
For 'tis of aspicks' tongues !
Iago. Pray, be content.
O, blood, Iago, blood !
Iago. Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may change.
Oth. Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontick and the Hellespont;
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
Till that a capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up.—Now, by yond' marble heaven, [Knee's
In the due reverence of a sacred vow
I here engage my words.
Do not rise yet. -
Witness, you ever-burning lights above !
You elements that clip us round about !
Witness, that here Iago doth give up
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
To wrong’d Othello's service ! let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
What bloody work soever.
I greet thy love,
Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will upon the instant put thee to't:
Within these three days let me hear thee say,
That Cassio's not alive.
Iago. My friend is dead ; 'tis done, at your request :
But let her live.
Enter DESDEMONA, and EMILIA.
Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia ?
Emil. I know not, madam.
Des. Believe me :-And, but my noble Moor
Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness
As jealous creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill thinking.
Is he not jealous ?
Des. Who, he ? I think, the sun, where he was born,
Drew all such humors from him.
Look, where he comes.
Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio
Be call’d to him.-How is't with you, my lord ?
Enter OTJIELLO. Oth. Well, my good lady ;-[Aside.]—0, hardness to dissemble! How do you, Desdemona ?
Des. Well, my good lord
Oth. Give me your hand : 'Tis a good hand,
A frank one.
Des. You may, indeed, say so;
For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.
Oih. A liberal hand: The hearts, of old, gave hands :
But our new heraldry is—hands, not hearts.
Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now your promise.
Oth. What promise, chuck ?
Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
Oth. I have a salt and sullen rheum offends me;
Lend me thy handkerchief.
Here, my lord.
Oth. That which I gave you.
I have it not about me.
Oth. Not ?
Des. No, indeed, my lord. .
That is a fault.
Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people : she told her, while she kept ito
'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my
Entirely to her love; but if she lost it,
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye.
Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt
Aster new fancies: She, dying, gave it me;
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
To give it her. I did so: and take heed ofạt,
Make it a darling like your precious eye;
To lose or give't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.
Is it possible?
Oth. 'Tis true; There's magic in the web of it.
A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
The sun to make two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work:
The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk,
And it was dy'd in mummy, which the skilful
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts.
Indeed! is't true ?
Oih. Most veritable; therefore look to’t well.
Des. Then would to heaven, that I had never seen it.
Oth. Ha! wherefore ?
Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash ?