Oth. I would have him nine years a killing: A fine woman! a fair woman! a fweet woman!Iago. Nay, you must forget that.

Oth. Ay, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd tonight; for the fhall not live. No, my heart is turn'd to ftone: I ftrike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world hath not a sweeter creature-She might lye by an Emperor's fide, and command him tasks.

Iago. Nay, that's not your way.

Oth. Hang her, I do but fay what she is

fo delicate with her needle- An admirable musician. Oh, she will fing the favagenefs out of a bear: of fo high and plenteous wit and invention!

Iago. She's the worfe for all this.

Oth. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times : And then of fo gentle condition!

Lago. Ay, too gentle.

Oth. Nay, that's certain.

But yet the pity of it, Iago-Oh, Iago, the pity of it, IazoIago. If you are fo fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend; for if it touch not you, it comes near no body.

Oth. I will chop her into meffes; cuckold me!
Iago. Oh, 'tis foul in her.

Oth. With mine officer!
Iago. That's fouler.

.

Olb. Get me fome poifon, Iago, this night. I'll not expoftulate with her, left her body and her beauty unprovide my mind again: this night, Iago.

Iago. Do it not with poifon, ftrangle her in her bed, Even in the bed fhe hath contaminated.

Oth. Good, good:

The juftice of it pleafes; very good.

Iago. And for Caffio, let me be his undertaker:
You fhall hear more by midnight. [A trumpet within.
Oth. Excellent good: what trumpet is that fame?
Iago. "I warrant you 'tis fomething come from Venice,
VOL. VI.

5 Something from Venice, fure.

Kk

SCENE

Enter Lodovico, Defdemona, and Attendants.

'Oh! it is Lodovico from the Duke:
And fee, your wife is with him.
Lod. 'Save you, worthy General:
Oth. With all my heart, Sir.
Lod. The Duke

and fenators of Venice greet you.

[Gives him a letter. Oth. I kifs the inftrnment 7 'of their good pleasures.' Def. And what's the news, good coufin Lodovico? Iago. I am very glad to fee you, fignior.

Welcome to Cyprus.

Lod. I thank you; how does lieutenant Caffio?
Iago. Lives, Sir.

Def. Coufin, there's fall'n between him and my Lord
An unkind breach: but you fhall make all well.
Oth. Are you fure of that?

Def. My Lord!

Oth. This fail you not to do, as you will

[Reading.

Lod. He did not call; he's bufie in the paper.
Is there divifion 'twixt my Lord and Caffio?
Def. A moft unhappy one; I would do much
T'attone them, for the love I bear to Caffio.
Oth. Fire and brimftone!

Def. My Lord!

Oth. Are you wife?

Def. What, is he angry

?

Lod. May be the letter mov'd him.

For as I think they do command him home,
Deputing Caffio in his government.

Def. Trust me, I am glad on't.
Oth. Indeed!

Def. My Lord!

Oth. I am glad to fee you mad.
Def. Why, fweet Othello?

5 'Tis Lodovico come from the Duke : 7 of their pleasures.

Otb.

6 and the fenators

A

Oth. Devil!

Def. I have not deferv'd this.'

[Striking ber.

Lod. My Lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice, Though I fhould fwear I faw't: 'Tis very much; Make her amends, fhe weeps.

Oth. Oh devil, devil!

If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop the falls would prove a crocodile :
Out of my fight

Def. I will not stay t' offend you.
Lod. Truly an obedient Lady:

I do befeech your Lordship call' her back.
Oth. Mistress!

Def. My Lord!

Oth. What would you with her, Sir?

Lod. Who, I, my Lord?

[Going.

Oth. Ay; you did wifh that I would make her turn: Sir, fhe can turn and turn, and yet go on,

;

And turn again. And the can weep, Sir, weep;
And she's obedient: as you fay, obedient
Very obedient- proceed you in your tears
Concerning this, Sir,

oh well painted paffion!I am commanded home get you away,

I'll fend for you anon

Sir, I obey the mandate,

[Exit Des.

And will return to Venice-Hence, avant!

Caffio fhall have my place. And, Sir, to-night
I do entreat that we may fup together.

You are welcome, Sir, to Cyprus

Goats and Monkies!

[Exit.

VII.

Lod. Is this the noble Moor, whom our full fenate
Call all-in-all fufficient? this the nature

Which paffion could not shake? whofe folid virtue
The fhot of accident or dart of chance

Could neither 'raze nor pierce ?

Iago. He is much chang'd.

Lod. Are his wits fafe? is he not light of brain? Iago. He's what he is; I may not breathe my cenfure What he might be, if what he might he is not,

I would to heav'n he were.

Lod. What, ftrike his wife!

Iago. 'Faith, that was not fo well; yet would I knew That stroke would prove the worst.

Lod. Is it his ufe?

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 feen and known. You fhall obferve him, And his own courfes will denote him fo,

That I may fave my fpeech. Do but go after,

And mark how he continues.

Lod. I'm forry that I was deceiv'd in him. [Exeunt,

Oth.

SCENE

VIII.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Othello and Emilia,

YOU have feen nothing then?

You

Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect. Oth. Yes, you have feen Caffio and her together. Emil. But then I faw no harm; and then I heard Each fyllable that breath made up between them. Oth. What? did they never whifper?

Emil. Never, my Lord.

Oth. Nor fend you out o'th' way?

Emil. Never.

Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? Emil. Never, my Lord.

8 graze... old edit. Warb, emend.

am

Otb.

Oth. That's ftrange!

Emil. I durft, my Lord, to wager fhe is honeft,
Lay down my foul at ftake; if you think other,
Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bofom.
If any wretch hath put this in your head,
Let heav'n requite it with the ferpent's curfe!
For if fhe be not honest, chafte and true,
There's no man happy, the pureft of their wives
Is foul as flander.

Oth. Bid her come hither, go.

[Exit Æmilia.

She fays enough; yet fhe's a fimple bawd
That cannot fay as much: this is a fubtle ''one,`
A closet lock and key of villainous fecrets;

And yet she'll kneel, and pray; I've seen her do't.

S CE NE

IX.

Enter Defdemona and Emilia.

Def. My Lord, what is your will?

Oth. Pray you, chuck, come hither.
Def. What is your pleasure?

Oth. Let me fee your Eyes; look in my face.
Def. What horrible fancy's this?

Oth. Some of your function, mistress,

Leave procreants alone, and fhut the door,

Cough, or cry hem, if any body come.

[To Æmilia.

Your mystery, your mystery; nay, difpatch. [Exit Emilia. Def. Upon my knee, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words,

But not your words.

Oth. Why? what art thou?

Def. Your wife, my Lord; your true and loyal wife. Oth. Come, fwear it; damn thy felf; left being like one Of heav'n, the devils themselves fhould fear to seize thee. Therefore be double-damn'd; fwear thou art honest. Def. Heaven doth truly know it.

Oth. Heav'n truly knows,

I whore,

Kk 3

That