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And turn again ; and she can weep, sir, weep;
[Exit DESDEMONA. Cassio shall have my place. And,-sir, to-night, I do entreat that we may sup together. You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkies!
[Erit. Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call-all-in-all sufficient ?- This the noble nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze, nor pierce? Iago.
He is much chang’d. Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain? Iago. He is that he is; I may not breathe my
censure. What he might be,---if, what he might, he is not, I would to heaven, he were. Lod.
What, strike his wife! Iago. 'Faith, that was not so well; Yet 'would I
knew, That stroke would prove the worst. Lod.
Is it his use? Or did the letters work upon his blood, And new-create this fault? Iago.
Alas, alas! It is not honesty in me, to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe him; And bis own courses will denote him so, That I may save my speech: Do but go after, And mark how he continues. Lod. I am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him.
A Room in the Castle.
Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA.
Oth. You have seen nothing then ?
Emil. But then I saw no harm; and then I heard Each syllable, that breath made
between them.. Oth. What, did they never whisper? Emil.
Never, my lord, Oth. Nor send you out o’the way? Emil.
Never. Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor
nothing? Emil. Never, my lord. Oth.
That's strange. Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake: if
think other, Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. If any wretch hath put this in Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There's no man happy; the purest of their wives Is foul as slander. Oth. Bid her come hither :-go.
[Exit EMILIA. She says enough ;-yet she's a simple bawd, That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, A closet-lock-and-key of villainous secrets : And yet she'll kneel, and pray; I have seen her do't.
Re-enter EMILIA, with DESDEMONA. Des. My lord, what is your will ?
Pray, chuck, come hither. Des. What is your pleasure ? Oth.
Let me see your eyes ; Look in my face. Des.
What horrible fancy's this? Oth. Some of your function, mistress ;
[To Emilia. Leave procreants alone, and shut the door ; Cough, or cry–hem, if any body come: Your mystery, your mystery ;-nay, despatch.
[Exit Emilia. Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech
Oth. Why, what art thou ?
Your wife, my lord; your true
Come, swear it, damn thyself; Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double
damn'd, Swear_thou art honest. Des.
Heaven doth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as
hell. Des. To whom, my lord? with whom: How am
Des. Alas, the heavy day!-Why do you weep?
Had it pleas'd heaven To try me with affliction ; had he rain'd
All kinds of sörés, and shames, on my bare head;
Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. Othou weed, Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet, That the sense aches at thee.-'Would, thou had'st
ne'er been born! Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ?
Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write whore upon? What committed ! Committed -0 thou publick commoner! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed ! Heaven stops thë nose at it, and the moon winks ;
garner'd up my heart ;] That is, treasured up: the går. ner and the fountain are improperly conjoined.
— turn thy complexion there! &c.] At such an object do thou, patience, thyself change colour ; at this do thou, even thou, rosy cherub as thou art, look as grim as hell.
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
By heaven, you do me wrong.
No, as I am a christian :
Oth. What, not a whore?
No, as I shall be saved.
cry you mercy, then: I took you for that cunning whore of Venice, That married with Othello.--You, mistress,
Re-enter EMILIA. That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you! We have done our course; there's
your pains ; I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
[Exit. Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
Des. 'Faith, half asleep.
Why, with my lord, madam. Des. Who is thy lord ? Emil.
He that is yours, sweeet lady. Des. I have none: Do not talk to me, Emilia ; I cannot weep; nor answer I have none,