Des. A man that, all his time,

Hath founded his good fortune on your love; Shar'd dangers with you;

Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief: I am most unhappy in the lofs of it.

Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shews us a

man :

They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;

They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us. Look you! Cassio, and my

husband.

Enter IAGO, and CASSIO.

Iago. There is no other way; 'tis she must

do't;

And, lo, the happiness! go, and impórtune her. Des. How now, good Cassio? what's the news with you?

Cas. Madam, my former suit: I do beseech

you,

That, by your virtuous means, I may again
Exist, and be a member of his love,
Whom I, with all the duty of my heart,
Intirely honour, I would not be delay'd:
If my offence, be of such mortal kind,
That neither service past, nor present sorrows

Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,

Can ransom me into his love again,
But to know so must be my benefit;
So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content,
And sbut myself up in some other course,
To fortune's alms.

Des. Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio,

My advocation is not now in tune;

My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him,

Were he in favour, as in humour, alter'd.
So help me every spirit sanctified,

As I have spoken for you all my best;

And stood within the blank of his displeasure, For my free speech! You must a while be patient:

What I can do, I will; and more I will,
Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.
Iago. Is my lord angry?

Emil. He went bence but now,
And, certainly, in strange unquietness.

Iago. Can he be angry? I have seen the

cannon,

When it hath blown his ranks into the air;
And, like the devil, from his very arm
Puff'd his own brother;

angry?

And can he be

Something of moment, then: I will go meet

him;

There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. Des. I pr'ythee, do so. Something, sure, of state, [Exit IAGO. Either from Venice; or some unhatch'd prac.

tice,

1

Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit: and, in such

cases,

Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. 'Tis ev'n

For let our finger ach, and it indues

* ོམ་

Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense Of pain: Nay, we must think, men are not

gods;

Nor of them look for such observances
As fit the bridal.

Beshrew me much, Emilia,

I was (unhandsome warrior as I am)
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;
But now I find, I had suborn'd the witness,
And he's indited falsely.

Emil. Pray heaven, it be state matters as you

think;

And no conception, nor no jealous toy,

Concerning you.

Des. Alas, the day! I never gave

him cause.

Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd

so;

They are not ever jealous for the cause,

But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster, Begot upon itself, born on itself.

Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind!

Emil. Lady, amen.

Des. I will go seek him.

hereabout:

Cassio, walk

If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,
And seek to effect it to my uttermost.
Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship.

[Exeunt DESDEMONA, and EMILIA.

Enter BIANCA.

Bian, Save you, friend Cassio!

Cas. What make you from home?

How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? I'faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.

Bian. And I was going to your lodging, Cas

sio.

What! keep a week away? seven days and

nights?

Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours,

More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning!

Cas. Pardon me, Bianca;

I have this while with leaden thoughts been

prels'd;

But I shall, in a more continuate time,

Strike off this score of absence.

Sweet Bianca, [giving her Desdemona's handkerchief.

Take me this work out.

Bian. O, Cassio, whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend, To the felt absence now I feel a cause; Is it come to this? Well, well.

Cas. Woman, go to!

Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous

now,

That this is from some mistress, some remem brance:

No, in good troth, Bianca.

Bian. Why, whose is it?
Cas. I know not, sweet:

chamber.

I found it in my

I like the work well; ere it be demanded,
(As like enough, it will,) I'd have it copy'd:
Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time.
Bian. Leave you! wherefore?

Ca's. I do attend here on the general; And think it no addition, nor my wish, To have him see me woman'd,

Bian, Why, I pray you?

Cas, Not, that I love you not.

Bian. But that you do not love me.
I pray you, bring me on the way a little,
And say, if I shall see you soon at night.

Cas. 'Tis but a little way, that I can bring

you,

For I attend here; but I'll see you soon,

Bian. 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanc'd.

[Exeunt.