Oth. Doft thou hear, Jago,

I will be found moft cunning in my patience;
But, doft thou hear, moft bloody..

Jago. That's not amifs;

But yet keep time in all. Will you

withdraw.
[Othello withdraws

Now will I queftion Caffio of Bianca,
A Hufwife, that by felling her defires,

Buys her felf Bread and Cloth. It is a Creature
That dotes on Caffio, as 'tis the Strumpet's plague
To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one;
He, when he hears of her, cannot reftrain
From the excefs of Laughter. Here he comes.
Enter Caffio.

As he fhall fmile, Othello thall go mad;
And his unbookifh Jealoufie muft conftrue,
Poor Caffio's Smiles, Geftures and light Behaviours
Quite in the wrong. How do you, Lieutenant?
Caf. The worfer, that you gave me the Addition,
Whose want even kills me.

Jago. Ply Defdemona well, and you are fure on't
Now, if this Sute lay in Bianca's Dower,

How quickly fhould you speed?

Caf. Alas, poor Caitiff.

Oth. Look how he laughs already.

I'

[Speaking lower.

Jago. I never knew a Woman love Man fo.

Caf. Alas, poor Rogue, I think indeed the loves me.
Oth. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.
Jago. Do you hear, Caffio?

Oth. Now he importunes him

To tell it o'er Go to, well faid, well faid.

Jago. She gives it out, that you fhall marry her.

Do you intend it?

Caf. Ha, ha, hà.

Oth. Do ye triumph, Roman? do you triumphs Caf. I marry!What? a Cuftomer; prithee bear Some Charity to my Wit, do not think it

So unwholfome. Ha, ha, ha.

Oth. So, fo: They laugh that win.

Jago. Why, the cry goes, that you fhall marry her. VOL. V.

N n

Caf

Caf. Prithee fay true.

Jago. I am a very Villain elfe.

Oth. Have you scoar'd me? well.

Caf. This is the Monkey's own giving out: She is periwaded I will marry her,

Out of her own Love and Flattery, not out of my promise. Oth. Fago beckons me: Now he begins the Story.

Caf. She was here even now; the haunts me in every place. I was the other Day talking on the Sea Bank with certain Ve netians, and thither comes the Bauble, and falls me thus 1bout my Neck

Oth. Crying, oh dear Caffio, as it were: His gefture imports it.

Caf. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me,

So fhakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. Now he tells how the pluckt him to my Chamber: Oh, I fee that Nofe of yours, but not that Dog I shall throw it to.

Caf. Well, I must leave her Company.

Jago. Before me; look where she comes.

Enter Bianca.

Caf. 'Tis fuch another Fitchew! marry, a perfum'd one: What do you mean by this haunting of we?

Bian. Let the Devil and his Damn haunt you; what did you mean by that fame Handkerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine Fool to take it: I muft take out the work? A likely piece of work, that you should find it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there. This is fome Minxe's token, and I must take out the work? There, give it your Hobbey-Horse : Wherefoever you had it, I'll take out no work on't.

Caf. How now, my fweet Bianca ?,

How now? How now?

Oth. By Heav'n, that should be my Handkerchief.

Bian. If you'll come to Supper to Night, you may; if you will not, come when you are next prepar'd for. [Exit. Jago. After her, after her.

Caf. I muft, fhe'll rail in the Streets else.

Fage. Will you Sup there?

Caf. Yes, I intend fo.

Jago. Well, I may chance to fee you; for I would very

fain fpeak with you.

Caf. Prithee come, will you?

Jago. Go to, fay no more.

Oth. How fhall I murther him, Fago?

[Exit Caf.

Jago. Did you perceive how he laugh'd at his Vice?

Oth. Oh, Fago!

Fago. And did you fee the Handkerchief?

Oth. Was that mine?

Jago. Yours, by this Hand: And to fee how he prizes

the foolish Woman your Wife

hath given it his Whore.

-She gave it him, and he

Oth. I would have him nine Years a killing: A fine Woman! a fair Woman! a fweet Woman! Jago. Nay, you must forget that.

Oth. Ay, let her rot and perifh, and be damn'd to Night, for the fhall not live. No, my Heart is turn'd to Stone: I ftrike it, and it hurts my Hand, Oh, the World hath not a fweeter Creature- She might lye by an Emperor's

fide, and command him Tasks.

Jago. Nay, that's not your way.

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

licate with her Needle

fo de

An admirable Mufician. Oh,

fhe will fing the Savagenefs out of a Bear: Of fʊ high a

plenteous Wit, and Invention !

Jago. She's the worfe for all this.

Oth. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times.

And then of fo gentle a Condition!

Jago. Ay, too gentle.

Oth. Nay that's certain.

But yet the pity of it, Jago---Oh, Jago, the pity of it, Fago---
Jago. If you are fo fond over her Iniquity: Give her
patend to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes near no
Body.

Oth. I will chop her into Meffes: Cuckold me !
Jago. Oh, 'tis foul in her.

Oth. With mine Officer !

Fago. That's fouler.

Oth. Get me fome Poifon, Jago, this Night. I'll not expoftulate with her, left her Body and her Beauty unprovide my Mind again: This Night, Jago,

N n 2

Fago.

Jago. Do it not with Poifon, ftrangle her in her Bed,
Even the Bed fhe hath contaminated.

Oth. Good, good:

The Juftice of it pleafes; very good.

Jago. And for Caffie, let me be his undertaker:
You thall hear more by midnight.

Enter Lodovico, Defdemona, and Attendants.
Oth. Excellent good--what Trumpet is that fame?
Fago. I warrant fomething from Venice,

'Tis Lodovico, this comes from the Duke.

See, your Wife's with him.

Lod. Save you, worthy General.

Oth. With all my Heart, Sir.

Lod. The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you.

[Gives him a Letter.

Oth. I kifs the Inftrument of their Pleafures.

Def. And what's the News, good Coufin Lodovico?
Jago. I am very glad to fee you, Signior.

Welcome to Cyprus.

Lod. I thank you; how does Lieutenant Caffio?
Jago. Lives, Sir.

Def. Coufin, there's faln 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
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'atone 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.

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

Oth. Oh Devil, Devil!

If that the Earth could term with Woman's Tears,
Each Drop the falls would prove a Crocodile:
Out of my Sight

Def. I will not ftay to offend you,

Lod. Truly obedient Lady:

I do befeech your Lordship call her back,

Oth. Miftrefs.

Def. My Lord.

Oth. What would you with her, Sir?

Lod. Who I, my Lord?

[Going.

Oth. I! you did with that I would make her turn:
Sir, the can turn and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again. And the can weep, Sir, weep.
And he's Obedient: As you fay Obedient.
Very Obedient- -proceed you in your Tears-
Concerning this, Sir---oh well painted Paffion !-----
I am commanded Home.

[Exit Def.

get you away!
I'll fend for you anon---Sir, I obey the Mandate.
And will return to Venice--Hence, avant!-.-.
Caffio fhall have my place. And, Sir, to night
I do entreat, that we may Sup together.

You are welcome, Sir, to Cyprus

Goats and Monkies!

[Exit.

Lod. Is this the Noble Moor, whom our full Senate
Call all in all fufficient? Is this the Nature

Whom Paffion could not shake? Whose folid Virtue
The Shot of Accident, nor Dart of Chance

Could neither graze, nor pierce?

Jago. He is much chang'd.

Lod. Are his Wits fafe? Is he not of light Brain? Jago. He's that he is; I may not breath 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!

Nn3

Fago.