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Oth. Some of your function, mistress ; (To Emil. Leave procreants alone, and shut the door; Cough, or cry-hem, if any body come : Your mystery, your mystery ;-nay, despatch.
(Exit Emilia. Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech
Oth. Why, what art thou?
Your wife, my lord; your true
Come, swear it, damn thyself; Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double
damn'd, Swear-thou art honest. Des.
Heaven doth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as
Des. Alas, the heavy day! Why do you weep?
Had it pleas'd heaven To try me with affliction; had he rain'd All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head; Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips; Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; I should have found in some part of my 'A drop of patience : but (alas !) to make me A fixed figure, for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at,0!0! Yet could I bear that too; well, very
But there, where I have garner'd' up my heart;
Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
ne'er been born! Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ?
Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write whore upon ? What committed ! Committed !-0 thou public commoner! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds.-What committed ! Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks ; The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear it: What committed ! Impudent strumpet! Des.
By heaven, you do me wrong. Oth. Are not you a strumpet? Des.
No, as I am a Christian :
Oth. What, not a whore?
No, as I shall be saved.
I cry you mercy, then; I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
(1) Treasured up
That married with Othello.—You, mistress,
Re-enter Emilia. That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you! We have done our course, there's money for your
pains; I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
(Exit. Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
Des. 'Faith, half asleep.
Why, with my lord, madam. Des. Who is thy lord ? Emil.
He that is yours, sweet lady. Des. I have none : Do not talk to me, Emilia; I cannot weep; nor answer I have none, But what should go by water. Prythee, to-night Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, - remember; And call thy husband hither.
Emil. Here is a change, indeed! (Exit.
Des. 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet. How have I been behav'd, that he might stick The small'st opinion on my great'st abuse?
Re-enter Emilia, with Iago. lago. What is your pleasure, madam? How is
it with you? Des. I cannot tell. Those, that do teach young
What's the matter, lady? Emil. Alas, lago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, As true hearts cannot bear.
Des. Am I that name, Iago ? lago.
What name, fair lady? Des. Such as,
was. Emil. He call'd her, whore; a beggar, in his
drink, Could not have laid such terms upon his callet."
Iago. Why did he so? Des. I do not know; I am sure, I am none such. lago. Do not weep, do not weep; Alas, the day!
Emil. Has she forsook so many noble matches, Her father, and her country, and her friends, To be callid-whore? would it not make one weep?
Des. It is my wretched fortune. lago.
Beshrew him for it! How comes the trick upon him? Des.
Nay, heaven doth know. Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devis'd this slander; I'll be hang'd else.
Iago. Fie, there is no such man : it is impossible. Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him! Emil. A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his
bones! Why should he call her, whore? who keeps her
company? What place? what time? what form? what like
honest hand a whip,
Speak within door. Emil. O, fie upon him! some such squire he was, That turn'd
side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
(1) His drab. (2) Fellows. (3) Inside out.
Iago. You are a fool; go to.
O good Iago,
lago. I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour; The business of the state does him offence, And he does chide with you. Des.
If 'twere no other, lago. It is but so, I warrant you. [Trumpets. Hark, how these instruments summon to supper! And the great messengers of Venice stay : Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.
(Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.
Enter Roderigo. How now, Roderigo?
Rod. I do not find, that thou deal'st justly with Iago. What in the contrary
Rod. Every day thou doff'st me2 with some device, lago; and rather (as it seems to me now,) keep’st from me all conveniency, than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will, indeed, no longer endure it: Nor am I yet persuaded, to (1) Title.
(2) Putt'st me of