I thank you for this profit; and, from hence, I'll love no friend,'since love breeds such offence. Oth. Nay, stay:-Thou should'st be honest. Iago. I should be wise; for honesty's a fool, And loses that it works for. Oth. By the world, I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; I think that thou art just, and think thou art not; I'll have some proof: Her name, that was as fresh As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black As mine own face.-If there be cords, or knives, Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, I'll not endure it.-'Would I were satisfied! Iago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion: I do repent me, that I put it to you. You would be satisfied? Oth. Would? nay, I will. Iago. And may: but how? how satisfied, my lord? Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on? Oth. Death and damnation! O! lago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, To bring them to that prospect: Damn them then, If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster, Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,— There are a kind of men so loose of soul, In sleep I heard him say,-Sweet Desdemona, And then, sir, would be gripe and wring my hand, Cry,-O, sweet creature! and then kiss me hard, As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots, That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then Cried, Cursed fate, that gave thee to the Moor! Oth. O monstrous! monstrous! Iago. Nay, this was but his dream. Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion; 'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. Iago. And this may help to thicken other proofs, That do demonstrate thinly. Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces. Iago. Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done; She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,- Oth. If it be that,Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers, It speaks against her with the other proofs. Oth. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives; One is too poor, too weak for my revenge! Now do I see 'tis true.-Look here, Iago; All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven: 'Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell! Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne, To tyrannous hate! swell bosom, with thy fraught; For 'tis of aspicks' tongues! Iago. Pray, be content. Oth. Iago. Patience, may change. O, blood, Iago, blood! say; your mind, perhaps, Oth. Never, lago. Like to the Pontick sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontick, and the Hellespont; Swallow them up.-Now, by yond' marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow [Kneels. I bere engage my words. Iago. Do not rise yet. [Kneels. Witness, you ever-burning lights above? What bloody work soever. Oth. I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to 't: Within these three days let me hear thee say, That Cassio's not alive. Iago. My friend is dead; 'tis done, at your request: But let her live. Oth. Damn her, lewd minx; O, damn her! Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw, To furnish me with some swift means of death For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant. Iago. I am your own for ever. SCENE IV. The same. [Exeunt. Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown. Clo. I dare not say, he lies any where. Clo. He's a soldier; and for me to say a soldier lies, is stabbing. Des. Go to; Where lodges he? Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie. Des. Can any thing be made of this? Clo. I know not where he lodges; and for me to devise a lodging, and say-he lies bere, or he lies there, were to lie in my own throat. Des. Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report? Clo. I will catechise the world for him; that is, make questions, and by them answer. Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him, I have moved my lord in his behalf, and hope, all will be well." Clo. To do this, is within the compass of man's wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing it. [Exit. Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? Emil. I know not, madam. Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of crusadoes. And, but my noble Moor To put him to ill thinking. Emil. Is he not jealous? Des. Who, he? I think, the sun, where he was born, Drew all such humours from him. Emil. Look, where he comes. Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio Be call'd to him.-How is't with you, my lord? Enter OTHELLO. Oth. Well, my good lady.-[Aside.] O, bardness to dissemble! How do you, Desdemona? Des. Well, my good lord. Oth. Give me your hand: This hand is moist, my lady. Des. It yet has felt no age, nor known no sor row. Oth. This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart; Hot, hot, and moist; This hand of yours requires For here's a young and sweating devil here, Des. You may, indeed, say so; For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart. Oth. A liberal hand: The hearts of old, gave hands; But our new heraldry is-hands, not hearts. Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now your promise. Oth. What promise, chuck? Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you. Oth. I have a salt and sullen rheum offends me; Lend me thy handkerchief. Des. Here, my lord. Oth. That which I gave you. Des. I have it not about me. No, indeed, my lord. Oth. That is a fault : That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give; She was a charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people: she told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father Entirely to her love; but if she lost it, Or made a gift of it, my father's eye After new fancies: She, dying, gave it me: Des. Is it possible? Oth. 'Tis true; there's magic in the web of it: A sibyl, that had number'd in the world The sun to make two hundred compasses, silk; And it was dyed in mummy, which the skilful Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. Indeed! is 't true? Des. |