I'd whistle her off61, and let her down the wind, Must be to loath her. O curse of marriage, For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones; 'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death; Enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA. If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!-- 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 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 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 it Iago: What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I; I nothing, but to please his fantasy. Enter IAGO. Iago. How now! what do you here alone? Iago. A thing for ine?—it is a common thing. Iago. To have a foolish wife. Emil. O, is that all? What will you give me now For that same handkerchief? Iago. Emil. What handkerchief? What handkerchief? Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona; That which so often you did bid me steal. lago. 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 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 it me again: Poor lady! she'll run mad, When she shall lack it. Iago. Be not you known of't63; I have use for it. Go, leave me. [Exit Emilia. As proofs of holy writ. This may do something. Burn like the mines of sulphur.-I did say so: Enter OTHELLO. Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora", Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday. Oth. To me? Ha ha! false to me? 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. 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: Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! 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 hadst been better have been born a dog, 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! Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me, On horror's head horrors accumulate: Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd, 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. By the world, Oth. 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 |