(Save that, they say, the wars must make examples Out of their best,) is not almost a fault

To incur a private check: When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul,
What you could ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
That came a wooing with you; and 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
I will deny thee nothing.
[will;
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 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 difficulty,

And fearful to be granted.

Oth. I will deny thee nothing: Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself. Des. Shall I deny you? no: Farewell, my lord. Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona: I will come to thee straight. [you; Des. Emilia, come :-Be it as your fancies teach Whate'er you be, I am obedient. [Exit, with Emilia. Oth. Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee! and, when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

Iago. My noble lord,— Oth.

What dost thou say, Iago? Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,

Know of your love?

[ask? Oth. He did, from first to last: Why dost thou Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought; No further harm.

The worst of words.

[thoughts

I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of
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 es
A stranger to thy thoughts.
I 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,-I entreat you then,
From one that so imperfectly conjects,
You'd 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. By heaven, I'll know thy thought.
Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.

Oth. Ha!

Think, my lord!

As if there were some monster in his thought,
Too hideous to be shewn.-Thou dost mean some-

thing:

I heard thee say but now,-Thou lik'dst not that,
When Cassio left my wife: What did'st not like?
And, when I told thee-he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed?
And did'st contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then had'st shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me,
Shew 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.

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 jea-
lous,

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.

[reason

Iago. I am glad of this; for now I shall have To shew 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,
Out of self-bounty, be abus'd; look to't:
I know our country disposition well;
In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
They dare not shew their husbands; their best con-
science

Is-not to leave undone, but keep unknown.
Oth. Dost thou say so?

Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying you; And, when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks, She lov'd them most.

And so she did.

Oth.
Iago.
Why, go to, then;
She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
To seel her father's eyes up, close as oak,—
He thought, 'twas witchcraft:-But I am much to
blame;

I humbly do beseech you of your pardon,
For too much loving you.

Oth.

I am bound to thee for ever. Iago. I see, this hath a little dash'd your spirits. Oth. Not a jot, not a jot. Iago.

Trust me, I fear it has. I hope, you will consider, what is spoke Comes from my love;-But I do see you are mov'd:I am to pray you, not to strain my speech To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,

Than to suspicion.

Oth. I will not.
Iago.

Should you do 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.

Oth.

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,
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 know more, much more, than he unfolds. Iago. My lord, I would, I might entreat your honour

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 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,

[Exit.

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. [well? Des. Why is your speech so faint? are you not 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;

(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.

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.
A good wench; give it me.
Emil. What will you do with it, that you have
To have me filch it?
Iago.

been so earnest

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.

Iago. Be not you known of't; I have use for it. Go, leave me. [Exit Emil

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:-

I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd, Than but to know't a little.

Iago.

How now, my lord? Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours of last? I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: I slept the next night 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 it, 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 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 ocular proof;
(Taking him by the throat.)
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou had'st been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.
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, woe upon thy life!
Iago. My noble lord,-

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 should'st 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: Her 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,
I'll not endure it.-Would I were satisfied!

Iago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion;
I do repent me, that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?

Oth.

Would! nay, I will.

Iago. And may: But, how? how satisfied, my lord?

Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on?
Behold her tupp'd?
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.
Iago. I do not like the office:

But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,—
Prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love,—
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
And being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep.

There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs;
One of this kind is Cassio:

In sleep I heard him say-Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!

And then, sir, would he gripe, and wring my band,
Cry,-O, sweet creature! and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots,
That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then,
Cry'd,-Cursed fate! that gave thee to the Moor!
Oth. O monstrous! monstrous!

Iago.
Nay, this was but his dream.
Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion;
"Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.
Iago. And this may help to thicken other proofs,
That do demonstrate thinly.
I'll tear her all to pieces.
Iago. Nay, but be wise; yet we see nothing dont;
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,
Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand?

Oth.

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.
Oth.
If it be that,-
Iugo. If it be that, or any that was her's,
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;
All my fond love thus I do blow to heaven:
'Tis gone.

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 aspics' tongues!
Iago. Pray, be content.
Oth.
O, blood, Iago, blood!
Iago. Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may

change.

Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic, 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, In the due reverence of a sacred vow (Kneels.) here engage my words. Iago. Do not rise yet.(Kneels.) Witness, you ever-burning lights above! You elements that clip us round abont!

Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown. Des. Do you know, sirrah, where lieutenant Cassio lies?

Clo. I dare not say, he lies any where. Des. Why, man? [lies, is stabbing. Clo. He is a soldier; and for me to say a soldier Des. Go to; where lodges he? Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you → where I lie.

Des. Can any thing be made of this?

Clo. I know not where he lodges; and for me to devise a lodging, and say-he lies here, or he lies there, were to lie in my own throat.

Des. Can you enquire him out, and be edified by report?

Clo. I will catechise the world for him; that is, make questions, and by them answer.

Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him, I have moved my lord in his behalf, and hope, all will be well.

Clo. To do this, is within the compass of man's wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing it.

[Exit.

Oth. Well, my good lady :-(Aside.) O, hard

ness to dissemble!

How do you, Desdemona?
Des. Well, my good lord.

Oth. Give me your hand: This hand is moist, my lady.

[row. Des. It yet has felt no age, nor known no sorOth. This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart;Not, hot, and moist: This hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, Much castigation, exercise devout; For here's a young and sweating devil here, That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand, A frank one.

Des. You may, indeed, say so; For 'twas that hand, that gave away my heart. Oth. 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.

[you.

Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with Oth. I have a salt and sullen rheum offends me; Lend me thy handkerchief. Des.

Here, my lord.

Oth. That which I gave you.

Des.

Oth. Not?

Des. Oth.

I have it not about me.

No, indeed, my lord.

That is a fault :

That handkerchief

[it,

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
'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father
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
After 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 of't,
Make it a darling like your precious eye;
To lose or giv't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.
Des.
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 died in mummy, which the skilful
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts.
Des.
Indeed! is't true?
Oth. Most veritable; therefore look to't well.
Des. Then 'would to heaven, that I had never
seen it.

Des. It is not lost; but what an if it were?
Oth. Ha!
Des. I say, it is not lost.
Oth.

Fetch't, let me see it.

[gives.

Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now;
This is a trick, to put me from my suit;

I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again,
Oth. Fetch me that handkerchief; my mind mis-
Des. Come, come;

You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
Oth. The handkerchief!-
Des.

I pray, talk to me of Cassio

A man that, all his time

Oth. The handkerchief!-
Des.

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

Oth.
Des. In sooth,

You are to blame.

Oth.

Emil.

The handkerchief!

Away!

[Exit. Is not this man jealous? Des. I ne'er saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief: I am most unhappy in the loss 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 hungrily, and when they are full, They belch us. Look you! Cassio, and my husband.