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,

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.
Oth. Why did I marry?

[Going.

This honest creature, doubtless,

Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

Iago. My lord, I would, I might entreat your honour

To scan this thing no farther; leave it to time.

[Returning.

Although 't is 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, 't is 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!

[Exit.

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; 't will away again:
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour

It will be well.

Oth.

Your napkin is too little; [Lets fall her Napkin. Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.

[Exeunt ОTH. 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 't Iago: what he will do with it,

Heaven knows, not I;

I nothing, but to please his fantasy.

Enter IAGO.

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.

Emil. What handkerchief!

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?

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?

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.

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.

[Snatching it.

[Exit EMILIA.

Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,

Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep

Which thou ow'dst yesterday.

Oth.

Iago. Why, how now,

Ha ha! false to me? to me?

general! no more of that.

Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack.

I swear, 't is better to be much abus'd,

Than but to know 't a little.

Iago.
Oth.

How now, my lord!

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, was free and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:

VI.

273

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: 0, 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' 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,

[Seizing him by the Throat.

Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.

Iago.

Oth.

Is it come to this?

Make me to see 't; 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,