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To scan this thing no farther; leave it to time:
Altho' 'tis fit that Cassio have his place,
For, sure, 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 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. , [E.cit.

Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I prove her haggard,
Tho' that the jesses were any 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 declined
Into the vale of years, yet that's not much----
She's gone,
I am abused, and


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:
Prerogativ'd are they less than the base;
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.
Even then, this forked plague is fated to us,
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes !

If she be false, oh, then Heaven mocks itself ;
I'll not believe it.

Des. How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders,
By you invited, do attend your presence.

Oth. I am to blame.

Des. Why do you speak so faintly? Are

? Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here, Des. Why, that's with watching, 'twill away

Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well. ,
Oth. Your napkin is too little; (60)

[She drops her handkerchief. Let it alone: come l'll

you: Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.


you not well!

go with

(60) Your napkin is too little. Much in the play turns upon this napkin or handkerchief: it may therefore be well to point it out here, as being constituted of the white streaks Manet ÆMILIA. Æmil. I am glad I have found this napkin; This was her first remembrance from the Moor. My wayward husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to steal it. But she so loves the token, (For he conjured her she should ever keep it) That she reserves it ever more about her, To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,

on Rodorigo's face, spotted with strawberries, as it were, as drawn in

Fig. 104.

In that situation it will be behind the person of Desdemona, who therefore, upon dropping it, may be supposed to have left it there unseen. But as to this particular passage concerning the napkin's being too small, it has a special regard to the white streak of spotted light, situate (where Desdemona, from her relative position, may be conceived to have put it) upon

upon the crown of Othello's head; which, however, is not long enough to go round his brow.

And give't Iago; what he'll do with it,
Heaven knows, not I;
I nothing, but to please his fantasy.

Enter I AGO. Iago. How now? what do you here alone? Æmil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for

Iago. You have a thing for me? [you. It is a common thing—

Æmil. Ha ?
Iago. To have a foolish wife.

[now Æmil. Oh, is that all? what will you give me For that same handkerchief?

lago. What handkerchief?

Æmil. What handkerchief ?---
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona:
That which so often you did bid me steal.

Iago. Hast stolen it from her?

Æmil. No; but she let it drop by negligence; And to the advantage, I being here took’t up: Look, here'tis.

Iago. A good wench, give it me.

Æmil. What will you do with't, you have been To have me filch it?

[so earnest Iago. Why, what is that to you?

[Snatching it. Æmil. If't be not for some purpose of import,

Give't me again. Poor Lady! she'll run mad When she shall lack it.

Iago. Be not you known on't: I have use for it. Go, leave me- [Exit Æmil. I will in Cassio'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: Dangerous conceits are in their nature poisons, Which at the first are scarce found to distaste ; 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 mandro-
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, [gora,
Shall ever med’cine thee to that sweet sleep,
Which thou hadst yesterday.

Oth. Ha! false to me!
Iago. Why, how now, general? no more of that.

Oth. Avant! be gone! thou'st set me on the I swear 'tis better to be much abused, [rack : (61) Than but to know a little.

Iago. How, my Lord ?

(61) On the rack, or wheel. Alluding to the circumference of the moon.

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