Des. Do not doubt that: before Emilia here
I give thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
To the last article: my lord shall never rest;
I'll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience;
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
I'll intermingle every thing he does

With Cassio's suit. Therefore, be merry, Cassio;
For thy solicitor shall rather die,
Than give thy cause away.

Enter OTHELLO and IAGO, at a distance.
Emil. Madam, here comes my lord.
Cas. Madam, I'll take my leave.
Des. Why, stay, and hear me speak.

Cas. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,

Unfit for mine own purpose.

Des. Well, do your discretion.
Iago. Ha! I like not that.
Oth.

[Exit CASSIO.

What dost thou say?

Iago. Nothing, my lord: or if-I know not what. Oth. Was not that Cassio, parted from my wife?

Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
That came a wooing with you, and so many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,

Hath ta'en your part, to have so much to do
To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,—
Oth. Pr'ythee, no more: let him come when he
will;
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,

I heard thee say but now,-thou lik'dst not that, When Cassio left my wife: 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,

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.
Iago. Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man.
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this.

I 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 false,

As where's that palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions

Keep leets and law-days, and in session sit
With meditations lawful?

Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.
1 do beseech you,—

Iago.
Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,
(As, I confess, it is my nature's plague

To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not,)—that your wisdom yet,
From one that so imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.

Oth.
What dost thou mean?
Iago. 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.

Oth. I'll know thy thoughts

Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody. Oth. Ha!

Iago. O! beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth make The meat it feeds on: that cuckold lives in bliss, Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But, O! what damned minutes tells he o'er, Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves! Oth. O misery!

Iago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter,

To him that ever fears he shall be poor.-
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!

Oth.

Why? why is this? Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in doubt, Is once to be resolv'd. Exchange me for a goat, When I shall turn the business of my soul To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous, To say-my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; Where virtue is, these are more virtuous: Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt; For she had eyes, and chose me: no, Iago; I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove; And, on the proof, there is no more but this, Away at once with love, or jealousy.

Iago. I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason To show the love and duty that I bear you With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound, Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof. Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio: Wear your eye-thus, not jealous, nor secure : I would not have your free and noble nature,

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.

[Exit.

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 DESDEMONA and EMILIA.

If she be false, O! then heaven mocks itself.-
I'll not believe it.

Des.
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.
Oth.

Your napkin is too little;

Lets fall her handkerchief.
Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.
Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.
[Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA.
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 should 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't Iago: what he will do with it,
Heaven knows, not I;

I nothing, but to please his fantasy.

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. [Exit 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 :-
Enter OTHELLO.

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,
Than but to know't a little.

I

Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust? saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me :

I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and merry;

I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:

He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.
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 fife,
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?-
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. 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,

I 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,

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.