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Des. But shall't be shortly
Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you?
Des. Shall't be to-night at supper ?
Oth. No, not to-night.
Des. To-morrow dinner then?
Oth. I shall not dine at home: I meet the captains at the citadel.
Des. Why then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday
9m Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn;
Prythee, name the time, but let it not Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason, (Save that, they say, the wars must make examples out of her best,) is not almost a fault
incur a private check. When shall he come !
Tell me, Othello; I wonder in my soul,
Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
Oth. Pr'ythee, no more: let him come when he
I will deny thee nothing.
Des. Why, this is not a boon; "Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit To your own person: nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poize and difficult weight, And fearful to be granted.
Oth. 1 will deny thee nothing: Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.
you ; Whate'er you be, I am obedient. [Erit, with EMILIA. Oth. Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee, and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again. lago. My noble lord, Oth. What dost thou say, Iago? Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady, Know of our love 1 Oth. He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask? Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought; No further harm. Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago? Iago. I did not think, he had been acquainted with her. Oth. O, yes; and went between us very oft. Iago. Indeed? Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed :-discern'st thou aught in that 7 Is he not honest ? Iago. Honest, my lord? Oth. Honest? ay, honest. Iago. My lord, for aught I know. Oth. What dost thou think 1 Iago. Think, my lord 7 Oth. Think, my lord' By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown.—Thou dost mean something. I heard thee say but now, thou lik'dst not that, When Cassio left my wise: what didst not like And, when I told thee, he was of my counsel In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, “Indeed ''' And didst contract and purse thy brow together, As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, Show me thy thought. 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. Iago. For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest. Oth. I think so too. Iago. Men should be what they seem; Or, those that be not, would they might seem none! Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem. #. Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man. Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this. l pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. Iago. Good my lord, pardon me: Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
Utter my thoughts Why, say, they are vile and
Out of self-bounty, be abus'd; look to't.
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, Her will, recoiling to her better judgment, May fall to match you with her country forms, And happily repent. Oth. Farewell, farewell. If more thou dost perceive, let me know more; Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, Iago. Iago. My lord, I take my leave. [Going. Oth. 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 honour [Returning. To scan this thing no further; leave it to time. Although 'tis fit that Cassio have his place, (For, sure, he fills it up with great ability.) Yet if you please to hold him off a while, * 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 mean time, 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 honour. 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, To 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. O curse of marriage' That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites. I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love, For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones, Prerogativ'd are they less than the base; 'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death: Even then this forked plague is fated to us, When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:
Enter DEs DEMonA and EMILIA.
If she be false, O! then heaven mocks itself-
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? Iago. What 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 1 Emil. No, "faith: she let it drop by negligence; And, to th' advantage, I, being here, took’t up. Look, here it is. Iago. A good wench: give it me.
Emil. What will you do with't, that you have been so earnest To have me filch it? Iago. Why, what's that to you? [Snatching it. Emil. If it be not for some purpose of import, Give’t me again: poor lady! she'll run mad, When she shall lack it. Iago. Be not acknown on't; I have use for it. Go; leave me. [Erit EMILIA. 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. This may do something. The Moor already changes with my poison: Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons, Which at the first are scarce found to distaste; But with a little act upon the blood, Burn like the mines of sulphur.—I did say so:—
Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandra-
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,
Iago. How now, my lord
Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust? I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:
Iago. I am sorry to hear this.
Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, Pioneers 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 fise, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! And O' you mortal engines, whose rude throats Th’ immorial Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone!
Oth. If thou dost 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 — Godbe wi' you; take mine office.—O wretched fool, That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice — Omonstrous 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. Nay, stay.—Thou shouldst be honest.
Iago. I should be wise; for honesty's a fool, And loses that it works for.
Oth. By the world, ! think my wife be honest, and think she is not; I think that thou art just, and think thou art not. I'll have some proof: my name, that was as fresh As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
Iago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:
Oth. Would nay, I will.
Iago. And may; but how? how satisfied, my lord? Would you the supervision grossly gape on 1 Behold her topp'd 1
Oth. Death and damnation' O !
Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, To bring them to that prospect. Damn them then, If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster, More than their own ' What then how then? What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? It is impossible you should see this, Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross As ignorance made drunk; but yet, I say, If imputation, and strong circumstances, Which lead directly to the door of truth, Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.
Oth. Give me a living reason she's disloyal.