« AnteriorContinua »
My speech would fall into such vile success,
Which my thoughts aim notat. Caffiu's my worthy friend.
My Lord, I see, you're moy'd-
Oih. No, not much mov'd-
I do not think, but Desdemona's honest.
Iago. Long live the so! and long live you to think, fo !
Oih. And yet, how Nature erring from itself
Iago. Ay, there's the point;-as (to be bold with you)
Not to affect many proposed matches
Cf her own clime, complexion and degree,
Whereto we see in all things Nature tends :
Foh! one may smell, in such, a will most rank,
Foul disproportions, thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in position
Distinály 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 dost perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife t'observe. Leave me, lago.
lago. My Lord, I take my leave.
[Going oib. Why did I marry ? This honest creature, doubtless, Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
lago. My Lord, I would, I might entreat your Honour To scan this thing no farther; leave it to time : Altho' 'tis fit that Cafio have his place, For, fure, he fills it up with great ability; Yet if you please to hold him off awhile, You shall by that perceive him, and his means ; Note, if your lady strain his entertainment With any strong, or vehement importunity; Much will be seen in that. In the mean time, Let me be thought too busy in my fears, (As worthy caufe I have to fear, I am ;) And hold her free, I do beseech your Honour, Oth. Fear not my government. Ingo. I once more take my leave.
Orb. This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I prove her haggard,
Tho' that her jesies were my dear heart-strings,
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I'm black,
And have not those soft
parts of conversation
That chamberers have; or, for I am declin'd
Into the vale of years, yet that's not much
I am abus'd, 'and my relief
Must be to loath her. Oh the curse 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 use. Yet 'tis the plague of Great ones;
J'rerogativ’d are they less than the base ;
'Tis deftiny unfhunnable, like death.
Ev’n then, this forked plague is fated to us,
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes !
Enter Desdemona and Æmilia.
If the be false, oh, then heav'n mocks itself:
l'll not believe't.
Def. How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders,
By you invited, do attend your presence.
Ulk. I am to blame.
Def: Why do you speak fo faintly?
Oih. I have a pain upon my forehead here.
Del: Why, that's with watching, 'twill away again ;
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.
Otl. Your napkin is too little ;
[She drops her handke clief.
Let it alone: come, I'll go
Des. I am very forry, that you are not well. Exeunt.
Æmil. I am glad, I have found this napkin;
This was her firft remembrance from the Moor;
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to steal it. But the so loves the token,
(For he conjur'd her, she should ever keep it)
That she reserves it evermore about her,
To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
And giv't lago ; what he'll do with it,
Heav'n knows, not I:
I nothing, but to please his fantafy.
lago. How now? what do
here alone ?
Æmil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.
Iago. You have a thing for me?
It is a common thing-
lago. To have a foolish wife.
#mil. Oh, is that all? what will you give me now For that fame handkerchief?
lago. What handkerchief?
Èmil. What handkerchief?.
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona ;
That which so often you did bid me fteal.
lago. Haft stollen it from her ?
Æmil. No; but she let it drop by negligence;
And, to th' advantage, I, being here, took't up:
Look, here 'tis.
Jago. A good wench, give it me.
Æmil. What will you do with't, you have been so
To have me filch it ?
Iago. Why, what is that to you ? [Snatching it.
mil. If't be not for some purpose of import, Give't me again. Poor lady! The'll run mad, When she shall lack it.
lago. Be not you known on't: I have use for it. Go, leave me
[Exit Æmil. I will in Caffio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles light as air
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy Writ. This may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poisons :
Dang?rous conceits are in their nature poisons, (36)
Which at the first are scarce found to diftaite;
But, with a little act upon the blood,
Burn like the mines of sulphur.-I did say so.
Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor' mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep,
Which thou hadit yesterday.
Orb. Ha! false to me!
lago. Why, how now, General ? no more of that.
Oth. Avant! be gone! thou'st set me on the rack:
I swear, 'tis better to be much abusid,
Than but to know a little..
lago. How, my Lord ?
Oih. What sense had I of her stoll'n hours of luft?
I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me ;
I slept the next night well; was free, and merry. ;
I found not Casio's kisses on her lips :
He, that is robb’d, not wanting what is ftoll'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb’d at all.
lago. I am sorry to hear this.
Oih. I had been happy, if the general camp,
(Pioneers 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 !
(36) Dang rous conceits are in their natyre poisons,] I cannot poffibly account for Mr. Pope's ostentation of industry upon this paflige. This line, says he, restor'd from the first edition, compleats the fenfe. But, pray, let us observe the accuracy of this wonderful restorer. The line, 'tis true, is in the first edition ; but'tis likewise in the firft and fecond impressions in folio ; 'tis in the quarto, of 1630 ; and 'tis in the edi, tions put out by Mr. Rowe; how then is it rejtor'ds Huic mandes, fi quid re&tè curatum velisis.
Farewel the neighing steed; and the shrill trump3
The spirit-ftirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And, oh, you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Orbeilo's Occupation's gone!
lazo. Is't poflible, my Lord ?
Oth, Villain, be sure, thou prove my love a whore ;
Be sure of it: give me the ocular proof,
Catching hold on bim.
Or, by the worth of mine eternal foul,
Thou hadft been better have been born: a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.
lago. Is't come to this ?
Oik. Make me to fee't; or, at the least, fo prove it.
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,
To hang a doubt on : of, woe upon thy life!
Iago. My noble Lord
Oih. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horrors head horrors accumulate ;
Do deeds to make heav'n-weep, all earth amaz'd;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.
1.2.0. Oh grace! oh heav'n defend me!
Are you a man? have you a foul ? or sense?
God be w’you; take mine office.- wretched foot,
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!
Oh monitrous world!, take note, take note, oh world,,
To be direct and honeft, is not safe.
I thank you for this profit, and from hence
I'll love no friend, fith love breeds such offence.
Oth, Nay, stay-thou shouldlt be honeft
Jago. I thould be wise, for honesty's a fool, And loses what is works for..
Oıb. By the world, I think, my wife is honest; and think, fhe is not ; ) think, that thou art juft ; and think, thou art not;: l'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh.