lago. You have a thing for me? It is a common thing

Emil. Ha?

Iago. To have a foolish wife.

Emil. Oh, is that all? what will you give me For that fame handkerchief?

lago. What handkerchief?

Emil. What handkerchief?

[now

Why, that the Moor firft gave to Desdemona;
That which fo often you did bid me steal.
lago. Haft ftolen it from her?

Emil. No; but the let it drop by negligence; And to the advantage, I being here took't up: Look, here 'tis.

Iago. A good wench, give it me.

Emil. What will you do with't, you have been To have me filch it?

[fo earneft Jago. Why, what is that to you! [Snatching it. Emil. If't be not for fome purpose of import, Give't me again. Poor Lady!" she'll run mad, When the fhall lack it.

Iago. Be not you known on't: I have ufe for it. Go, leave me [Exit Emil. I will in Caffio's lodging lofe this napkin, And let him find it Trifles light as air Are, to the jealous, confirmations streng As proofs of holy writ. This may do fomething. The Moor already changes with my poisons: Dangerous conceits are in their nature poifons, (36)

(36) Dangerous conceits are in their nature poisons,] I cannot poflibly account for Mr Pope's oftentation of industry upon this paffage. "This line (fays he) reftored from the firft edition, compleats the fenfe." But, pray, let us obferve the accuracy of this wonderful reftorer. The line, 'tis true, is in the first edition, but 'tis likewife in the first and fecond impreffions in Folio; 'tis in the Quarto of 1630; and 'tis in the editions put out by Mr Rowe; how then is it reftored? Huic mandes, fi quid recte curatum velis.

Which at the firft are scarce found to distaste;
But, with a little act upon the blood,

Burn like the mines of fulphur.-I did fay fo.

Enter OTHELLO.

Look, where he comes! not poppy, nor mandro
Nor all the drowsy fyrups of the world,

Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep,
Which thou hadst yesterday.

Oth. Ha! false to me!

[gora,

Iago. Why, how now, General? no more of that. Oth. Avant! be gone! thou'll fet me on the rack: I fwear 'tis better to be much abufed,

Than but to know a little.

lago. How, my Lord?

Oth. What fenfe had I of her ftolen hours of luft? I faw't not, thought it not, it harmed not me; I flept the next night well; was free and merry ; I found not Caffio's kisses on her lips:

He, that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all. lago. I am forry to hear this.

Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, (Poineers and all,) had tafted her sweet body, So I had nothing known. Oh now, for ever Farewel the tranquil mind! farewel content! Farewel the plumed troops, and the big war, That make ambition virtue ! oh, farewel! Farewel the neighing steed, and the fhrill trump, The fpirit-ftirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! And, oh, you mortal engines, whofe rude throats Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewel! Othello's occupation's gone!

Iago. Is't poffible, my Lord?

Oth. Villain, be fure you prove my love a whore; Be fure of it give me the ocular proof,

:

[Catching hold on him. Or, by the worth of mine eternal foul,

Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my waked wrath.

Iago. Is't come to this?

Oth. Make me to fee't; or, at the leaft, fo 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 doft flander 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 canft thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.

Iago. Oh grace! oh Heaven defend me !
Are you a man? have you a foul? or fenfe?
God be w' you; take mine office.----O_wretched
That liveft to make thine honesty a vice!

[fool, Oh monstrous world! take note, take note, oh world, To be direct and honeft, is not fafe.

I thank you for this profit, and from hence
I'll love no friend, fith love breeds fuch offence.
Oth. Nay, ftay-thou shouldst be honest----
Iago. I fhould be wife, for honesty's a fool,
And lofes what it works for.

Iago. By the world,

I think my wife is honest; and think she is not;
I think that thou art juft; and think thou art not;
I'll have fome proof. Her name, that was as fresh
As Dian's vifage, is now begrim'd and black
As my own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poifon, or fire, or fuffocating streams,

I'll not endure't---'Would I were satisfied!
VOL. XII.

Y

Iago. I fee, Sir, you are eaten up with paffion; I do repent me that I put it to you. You would be fatisfied?

Oth. Would? nay, and will.

Iago. And may; but how? how fatisfied, my Would you be supervisor, grofly gape on? [Lord? Behold her tupp'd?

Oth. Death and damnation! oh!

Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring 'em to that prospect: damn them then,
If ever mortal eyes do fee them bolter,
More than their own. What then? how then?
What fhall I fay? where's fatisfaction?
It is impoffible you fhould fee this,

Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As falt as wolves in pride, and fools as grofs
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I fay,
If imputation and strong circumstances,
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you fatisfaction, you might have't.
Oth. Give me a living reafon fhe's difloyal.
Iago. I do not like the office;

But fith I'm entered in this cause fo far,
Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,
I will go on. I lay with Caffio lately,
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not fleep.------

There are a kind of men, fo loofe of foul,
That in their fleeps will mutter their affairs;
One of this kind is Caffio:

In fleep I heard him fay, "Sweet Defdemona,
"Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!"
And then, Sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand;
Cry." Oh fweet creature!" and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluck'd up kiffes by the roots,

That grew upon my lips; then lay his leg

Over my thigh, and figh and kifs, and then
Cry, "Curfed Fate! that gave thee to the Moor."
Oth. Oh, monstrous! monstrous !

lage. Nay, this was but his dream.

Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclufion; 'Tis a fhrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. Iago. And this may help to thicken other proofs, That do demonstrate thinly.

Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces.

Lago. Nay, but be wife; yet we fee nothing done; She may be honeft yet.---Tell me but this, Have you not fometimes feen a handkerchief, Spotted with ftrawberries, in your wife's hand? Oth. I gave her such a one, 'twas my first gift. Iago. I know not that; but fuch a handkerchief, (I'm fure it was your wife's), did I to-day See Caffio wipe his beard with.

Oth. If it be that------

lago. If it be that, or any, if 'twas hers, It fpeaks against her with the other proofs. Oth. Oh, that the flave had forty thousand lives! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I fee 'tis true.-----Look here, lago, All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven; 'Tis gone;---

Arife black vengeance from the hollow hell!

Yield up, oh love, thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate! fwell bofom with thy fraught, For 'tis of afpic's tongues.

lago. Yet be content.

Oth. Oh, blood, blood, blood-----

[change.

Iago. Patience, I fay; your mind, perhaps, may Oth. Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whofe icy current and compulfive course, Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic, and the Hellefpont: