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Jago. My noble lord.

Oth. What doft thou fay, Jago?

Jago. Did Michael Caffio, when you woo'd my lady,
Know of your love?

Oth. He did from first to laft; why doft thou ask?
Jago. But for a fatisfaction of my thought,

No further harm.

Oth. Why of thy thought, Jago?

Jago. I did not think he'd been acquainted with it.
Oth. Oh yes, and went between us very oft.

Jago. Indeed!

Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed. Difcern'st thou ought of that? Is he not honeft?

Jago. Honeft, my lord?

Oth. Honeft? ay, honest.

Jago. My lord, for ought I know.

Oth. What doft thou think?

Jago. Think, my lord!.

Oth. Think, my lord! why by heav'n, thou eccho'ft me;

As if there were fome monster in thy thought

Too hideous to be shewn.

I heard thee fay but now,

When Caffio left my wife.

4

Thou dost mean something:

thou lik'dst not that,

What did❜ft not like?

And when I told thee, he was of my counsel,

In my whole course of wooing; thou cry'dft, indeed?
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,

As if thou then hadft fhut up in thy brain

Some horrible conceit: if thou doft love me

Shew me thy thought.

Jago. My lord, you know I love you.

Oth. I think thou doft:

And for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty,

And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath,

V O L. VI.

Xxx

Therefore

Therefore these ftops of thine fright me the more:
For fuch things, in a false disloyal knave,
Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just,
They're close denotements working from the heart,
That paffion cannot rule.

Jago. For Michael Caffio,

I dare be fworn, I think, that he is honest.
Oth. I think fo too.

Jago. Men fhould be what they feem.

Or those that be not, would they might feem none.
Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.
Fago. Why, then I think Caffio's an honest man.
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this,

C

I pray thee speak to me as to thy thinkings,

As thou doft ruminate, and give thy worft of thoughts,
The worst of words.

Fago. Good, my lord, pardon me.

Tho' I am bound to every act of duty,

I am not bound to that, all flaves are free to;

Utter my thoughts! --- Why fay they're vile and false?
As where's that palace whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
But fome uncleanly apprehenfions

Keep leets and law-days, and in feffions fit
With meditations lawful?

Oth. Thou doft confpire against thy friend, Jago,
If thou but think'ft him wrong'd, and mak'st his ear
A ftranger to thy thoughts.

Jago. I do beseech you,

Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,
(As I confefs it is my nature's plague
To fpie into abuse, and oft my jealousie
Shapes faults that are not,) I intreat

you

then

From

cold dilations.

= my

d I am not bound

From one that so imperfectly conceits,

Your wisdom would not build your felf a trouble
Out of my scattering and unfure obfervance:

It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty and wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.

Oth. What doft thou mean?

Fago. Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their fouls.

Who steals my purse steals trash, 'tis fomething, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been flave to thousands; • But he that filches from me my good name, 'Robs me of that, which not enriches him, • And makes me poor indeed.

Oth. I'll know thy thoughts

Fago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.

Oth. Ha!

Fago. Oh, beware, my lord, of jealousie,
It is a green-ey'd monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But oh, what damned minutes tells he o'er,

Who dotes, yet doubts; fufpects, yet strongly loves!
Oth. Oh misery!

Fago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough;
But riches endless, is as poor as winter,

To him that ever fears he shall be poor.

Good heaven! the fouls of all my tribe defend
From jealousie.

Oth. Why? why is this?

Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousie?
To follow ftill the changes of the moon,

e his.

XXX 2

With

With fresh fufpicions? No; to be once in doubt,
Is once to be refolv'd. Exchange me for a goat,
When I fhall turn the business of my foul:
To fuch exufflicate and blown furmifes,

Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous,
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, fings, plays, and dances well;
Where virtue is, these are most virtuous.

Nor from mine own weak merits, will I draw

The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt,

For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Jago,
I'll fee before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;

And on the proof, there is no more but this,
Away at once with love, or jealoufie.

Jago. I'm glad of this; for now I fhall have reafon
To fhew the love and duty that I bear you

With franker fpirit.

Receive it from me.

Therefore, as I'm bound,

I speak not yet of proof.

Look to your wife, observe her well with Caffio,
Wear your eye, thus; not jealous, nor fecure;
I would not have your free and noble nature
Out of self-bounty be abus'd; look to't.

I know our country difpofition well;

In Venice they do let heav'n fee the pranks

They dare not fhew their husbands; their best conscience.

Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown.

Oth. Doft thou fay fo?

Jago. She did deceive her father, marrying you, And when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks, She lov'd them most.

Oth. And fo fhe did.

Jago. Go to then;

She that fo young could give out fuch a feeming

Το

To feal her father's eyes up, close as oak

He thought 'twas witchcraft---- but I'm much to blame ::
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon

For too much loving you.

Oth. I'm bound to you

for ever.

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Jago. I fee this hath a little dash'd your spirits..
Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.

Jago. Trust me, I fear it has:

I hope you will confider, what is spoke

Comes from my love. But I do fee you're mov'd ----
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech

To groffer iffues, nor to larger reach,
Than to suspicion.

Oth. I will not.

Jago. Should you do fo, my lord,

i.

My speech would fall into such vile fuccefs,

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ניין

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Which my thoughts aim not at. Caffio's my worthy friend.
My lord, I fee you're mov'd

Oth. No, not much moy'd ---

I do not think but Desdemona's honeft.

Jago. Long live fhe fo; and long live you to think so.
Oth. And yet how nature erring from it self-

Fago. Ay, there's the point; ---as (to
as (to be bold with you)
Not to affect many proposed matches

Of her own clime, complexion and degree,
Whereto we see in all things nature tends:
Foh! one may smell in fuch, a will most rank,.
Foul difproportions, thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in pofition.....
Distinctly 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,

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