Iago. Fye, there is no such man; it is impossible. Emil. A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones! Why should he call her, whore? who keeps her com pany? What place? what time? what form? what likelihood? To lash the rascal naked through the world, Speak within door.h Iago. And made you to suspect me with the Moor. Iago. You are a fool; go to. Des. O, good Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friends, go to him; for, by this light of heaven, If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, And ever will, though he do shake me off But never taint my love. I cannot say, whore; SON. notorious--] For gross, not in its proper meaning for known.-JOHN such companions-] Companion, in the time of Shakspeare, was used as a word of contempt, in the same sense as fellow is at this day.-MALONE. h Speak within door.] Do not clamour so as to be heard beyond the house.JOHNSON. i discourse or thought,] The reading of the old copies is discourse of thought; the emendation of the text was made by Pope, and defended by Stee"The line alludes to the three ways of committing sin mentioned in the Catholic Catechisms, in thought, word, and deed." vens. To do the act that might the addition earn, Not the world's mass of vanity could make me. And he does chide with you. Des. If 'twere no other, Iago. It is but so, I warrant you. [Trumpets. Hark, how these instruments summon to supper! [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA. Enter RODERIGO. How now, Roderigo? Rod. I do not find, that thou deal'st justly with me. Iago. What in the contrary? Rod. Every day thou doff'st me with some device, Iago; and rather (as it seems to me now,) keep'st from me all conveniency, than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will, indeed, no longer endure it: Nor am I yet persuaded, to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered. Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo? Rod. 'Faith, I have heard too much; for your words, and performances, are no kin together. Iago. You charge me most unjustly. Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me, to deliver to Desdemona, would half have corrupted a votarist: You have told me-she has received them, and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquittance; but I find none. Iago. Well; go to; very well. Rod. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis not very well: By this hand, I say, it is very scurvy; and begin to find myself fobbed in it. Lago. Very well. Rod. I tell you, 'tis not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona: If she will return me my acquittance ;] i. e. Requital. jewels, I will give over my suit, and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself, I will seek satisfaction of you. Iago. You have said now. Rod. Ay, and I have said nothing, but what I protest intendment of doing. Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; and even, from this instant, do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: Thou hast taken against me a most just exception; but, yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair. Rod. It hath not appeared. Iago. I grant, indeed, it hath not appeared; and your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that within thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean, purpose, courage, and valour,-this night show it; if thou the next night following enjoyest not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery, and devise engines for my life.' Rod. Well, what is it? is it within reason, and compass? Iago. Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice, to depute Cassio in Othello's place. Rod. Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice. Jago. O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some accident; wherein none can be so determinate, as the removing of Cassio. Rod. How do you mean-removing of him? Iago. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place; knocking out his brains. Rod. And that you would have me do? Iago. Ay; if you dare do yourself a profit, and a right. He sups to-night with a harlot, and thither will I go to him; he knows not yet of his honourable fortune; if I devise engines-] This seems to mean, contrive racks, tortures, &c. -RITSON. you will watch his going thence, (which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one), you may take him at your pleasure; I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me; I will show you such a necessity in his death, that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high" supper-time, and the night grows to waste:" about it. Rod. I will hear further reason for this. SCENE III. Another Room in the Castle. [Exeunt. Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Attendants. Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further. Oth. O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk. Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your lady Oth. Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned forthwith: dismiss your attendant there; look, it be done. Des. I will, my lord. [Exeunt OTHELLO, LODOVICO, and Attendants, Emil. How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did. Des. He says, he will return incontinent; He hath commanded me to go to bed, And bade me to dismiss you. Emil. Dismiss me! Des. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu: We must not now displease him. Emil. I would, you had never seen him! Des. So would not I; my love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks, and frowns,Pr'ythee, unpin me,—have grace and favour in them. Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. Des. All's one:-Good faith! how foolish are our minds! If I do die before thee, pr'ythee, shroud me In one of those same sheets. Come, come, you talk. Emil. No, unpin me here.— And he speaks well. Emil. I know a lady in Venice, who would have walked barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his nether lip. P I. Des. The poor soul' sat sighing by a sycamore tree, [Singing. Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow: good faith!] Thus the quarto, 1622. The folio, good father. I have much to do, But to go hang my head -] I have much ado to do any thing but hang my head. JOHNSON. The poor soul, &c.] This song, in two parts, is printed in Dr. Percy's collection of old ballads; the lines preserved differ somewhat from the copy discovered by the ingenious collector. The original ballad is the complaint, not of a woman forsaken, but of a man rejected. Some alterations were very properly made when it was accommodated to a woman.--JOHNSON. |