Foh! one may fmell, in fuch, a will moft rank,
Foul difproportions, thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in pofition
Diftinctly speak of her, tho' I may fear
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And haply fo repent.

Oth. Farewel, farewel;

If more thou doft perceive, let me know more:
Set on thy wife t'obferve. Leave me, Iago.

Iago. My Lord, I take

Oth. Why did I marry?

my

This honeft creature, doubtlefs,

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

Iago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honour To fcan this thing no farther; leave it to time: Altho' 'tis fit that Caffio have his place, For fure he fills it up with great ability, Yet if you please to put him off a while, You fhall by that perceive him, and his means; Note if your lady ftrain his entertainment With any ftrong, or vehement importunity; Much will be feen in that. In the mean time, Let me be thought too bufie 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 honefty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned fpirit,
Of human dealings. If I prove her haggard,
Tho' that her jeffes were my dear heart-ftrings,
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I'm black,

[Exit.

And

And have not thofe foft 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. Oh the curfe 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 ufe. Yet 'tis the plague of great ones;
Prerogativ'd are they lefs than the bafe;
'I is deftiny unfhunnable like death.

Even then, this forked plague is fated to us
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:

Enter Defdemona and Emilia.

If fhe be falfe, oh then heav'n mocks it felf:
I'll not believe't.

Def. How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.
Oth. I am to blame.

Def. Why do you speak fo faintly? Are you not well?

Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.

Def. Why, that's with watching, 'twill away again; Let me but bind it hard, within this hour

[She drops her handkerchief.

Let it alone: come, I'll go in with you.

Def. I am very forry that you are not well.

[Exeunt.

Emil. I am glad I have found this 'napkin here: >

This was her first remembrance from the Moor;

4 napkin:

My

My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to fteal it. But the fo loves the token,
(For he conjur'd her, she should ever keep it)
That fhe referves it evermore about her,
To kifs and talk to. I will have the work
Ta'en out, and give it to Iago, but

What he'll do with it, heav'n knows, not I:
I nothing, but to please his fantasie.

Enter Iago.

Iago. How now? what do you here alone?
Emil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you."
Iago. 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 now For that fame handkerchief?

Iago. What handkerchief?

Emil. What handkerchief?

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

Emil. No; but the 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, you have been so earnest

To have me filch it?

Iago. Why, what's that to you?

[Snatching it.

Emil. If't be not for fome purpose of import,
Give't me again. Poor Lady, fhe'll run mad,
When the fhall lack it.

Iago. Be not you known on't:
I have use for it. Go, leave me
I will in Caffio's lodging lofe this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles light as air
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong,

[Exit Emilia.

As

As proofs of holy writ. This may do fomething.
The Moor already changes with my poifons:
Dang'rous conceits are in their nature poisons,
Which at the first are scarce found to diftafte;
But with a little act upon the blood,

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

[Obferving Othello feemingly disturb'i.

SCENE

Enter Othello.

VIII.

Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowfie fyrups of the world,

Shall ever medicine thee to that fweet sleep,
Which thous 'ow'd'ft yesterday.

Oth. Ha! falfe to me!

Iago. Why, how now, General? no more of that. Oth. Avant, be gone; thou'ft fet me on the rack. I swear 'tis better to be much abus'd,

Than but to know a little.

Iago. How, my Lord?

Oth. What fenfe had I, in her ftol'n hours of luft?
I faw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me;
I flept the next night well; was free and merry;
I found not Caffio's kiffes on her lips:

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

Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,
(Pioneers and all,) had tafted her fweet 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 fteed, and the fhrill trump,
The fpirit-ftirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,

5 hadit

Pride,

Pride, pomp, and circumftance of glorious war!
And oh you mortal engines, whose 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 thou 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 wak'd 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 heav'n weep, all earth amaz'd;
For nothing canft thou to damnation add,

Greater than that.

Iago. Oh grace! oh heav'n defend me!
Are you a man? have you a foul? or fenfe?
God be wi' you: take mine office. Wretched fool,
That liv'ft to make thine honefty a vice!

O 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 should'st be honeft

Iago. I fhould be wife, for honefty's a fool,
And lofes what it works for.

Oth. By the world,

I think my wife is honeft, 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
Ii

VOL. VI.

As