If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it To the last article: my lord shall never rest; I'll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience; I'll intermingle every thing he does With Cassio's suit: Therefore be merry, Cassio; For thy solicitor shall rather die, Than give thy cause away. Enter OTHELLO and IAGO, at a distance. Cas. Madam, not now; I am very ill at ease, Unfit for mine own purposes. Des. Do your discretion. Iago. Well, well, [Exit Cassio. Ha! I like not that. Oth. What dost thou say? Iago. Nothing, my lord: or if-I know not what. Iago. Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think it, That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing you coming. Oth. I do believe, 'twas he. Des. How now, my lord? I have been talking with a suitor here, A man that languishes in your displeasure. Oth. Who is't, you mean? Des. Why, your lieutenant Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace, or power to move you, His present reconciliation take; For, if he be not one that truly loves you, Oth. Went he hence now? Des. Ay, sooth; so humbled, That he hath left part of his grief with me; I suffer with him. Good love, call him back. Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time. Des. But shall't be shortly? Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you. Des. Shall't be to-night at supper? Des. To-morrow dinner then? No, not to-night. I shall not dine at home; I meet the captains at the citadel. Des. Why then, to-morrow night; or tuesday morn; Or tuesday noon, or night; or wednesday morn; I pray thee, name the time; but let it not Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent; (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,-- will; I will deny thee nothing. 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; To your own person: Nay, when I have a suit, 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. straight. Des. Emilia, come:-Be it as your fancies teach you; 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? Oth. He did, from first to last: Why dost thou ask? Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought; No further harm. Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago? Iago. I did not think, he had been acquainted with her. Oth. O, yes; and went between us very oft. Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed:-Discern'st thou aught in that? As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown.-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 As if thou then had'st shut up in thy brain Jago. 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: 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! I think that Cassio is an honest man. Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this: Why then, I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. Iago. Good my lord, pardon me; Though I am bound to every act of duty, |