[Going

Oth. Farewel, farewel;

If more thou dost perceive, let me know more:
Set on thy wife t'obferve. Leave me, Jago."

Jago. My lord, I take

Oth. Why did I marry?

my leave.

This honeft creature, doubtless,

Sees, and knows more, much more than he unfolds.
Jago. My lord, I would I might intreat your honour
To scan this thing no farther; leave it to time:
Altho' 'tis fit that Caffio have his place,
For fure he fills it up with great ability,
Yet if you please to put him off a while,
You shall by that perceive him, and his means;
Note, if your lady ftrain his entertainment
With any strong, or vehement importunity,
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too bufie in my fears,
(As worthy cause I have to fear I am,)
And hold her free, I do befeech your

Oth. Fear not my government.
Fago. I once more take my leave.

honour.

SCEN E VI.

Manet Othello.

Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learn'd fpirit,
Of human dealings. If I prove her haggard,
†Tho' that her jeffes were my 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 declin'd

† A metaphor taken from falconry. Jefles are the ftrings they hold a hawk by.

[Exit.

Into

Into the vale of years, yet that's not much
She's gone, I am abus'd, and my relief
Must be to loath her. Oh the curfe 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 lefs than the bafe;

'Tis destiny unshunnable like death.

Even then, this forked plague is fated to us,
When we do quicken. Defdemona comes!·

Enter Desdemona and Emilia:

If she be false, oh then heav'n mocks it self?
I'll not believe't.

Def. How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders,
By you invited, do attend your presence.
Oth. I am to blame.

Are

Def. Why do you speak so faintly?

you not well a

Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.

Def. Why, that's with watching, 'twill away again;

Let me but bind it hard, within this hour

It will be well.

Oth. Your napkin is too little ;

[She drops her bandkerchief.

[Exeunt.

Let it alone: come, I'll go in with you.

Def. I am very forry that you are not well.

SCENE

SCENE VII.

Manet Emilia.

Emil. 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 the fo loves the token,
(For he conjur'd her, fhe fhould ever keep it)
That the reserves it evermore about her,

To kifs and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
And give't Jago; what he'll do with it,

Heav'n knows, not I:

I nothing, but to please his fantasie.

Enter Jago.

Jago. How now? what do you here alone?

Emil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.

Jago. You have a thing for me?

It is a common thing

Emil. Ha?

Jago. To have a foolish wife.

Emil. Oh, is that all? what will you give me now

For that fame handkerchief?

Jago. What handkerchief?

Emil. What handkerchief?

Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona,
That which fo often you did bid me steal.
Jago. Haft ftollen it from her?

Emil. No; but fhe let it drop by negligence,
And to th' advantage, I being here, took't up:
Look, here 'tis.

Jago. A good wench, give it me.

Emil. What will you do with't, you have been fo earnest to have me filch it?

Jago. Why, what is that to you?

Emil. If't be not for fome purpose of import, Give't me again. Poor lady fhe'll run mad, When she shall lack it.

Jago. Be not you known on't:

I have use for it. Go, leave me -----
I will in Caffio'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:
+ Dang'rous 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 fulphur. ---I did say so.

[Snatching it.

[Exit Æmilia.

Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowfie fyrups of the world

Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet fleep,
Which thou hadst yesterday.

Oth. Ha! false to me!

Jago. Why, how now, General; no more of that.

Oth. Avant, be gone; thou'ft fet me on the rack:

I swear 'tis better to be much abus'd,

Than but to know a little.

Jago. How, my lord?

Oth. What fenfe had I, in her stol'n hours of luft? I faw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me;

VOL. VI.

Yyy

This line, reftored from the first edition, compleats the fenfe.

I

I slept the next night well; was free and merry;
I found not Caffio's kiffes on her lips:

He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.
Jago. I am forry to hear this.

Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,
(Pioneers and all,) had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. Oh now, for ever
Farewel the tranquil mind! Farewel content!
Farewel the plumed troops, and the big war,
That make ambition virtue! oh farewel!
Farewel the neighing steed, and the fhrill trump,
The spirit-ftirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And oh you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's occupation's gone!

Jago. Is't poffible, my lord?

Oth. Villain, be fure thou prove my love a whore;

Be fure of it give me the ocular proof,

Or by the worth of mine eternal foul,

[Catching hold on him.

Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,

Than answer my wak'd wrath.

Fago. Is't come to this?

Oth. Make me to fee't, or at the least, so prove it,

That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,

To hang a doubt on: or woe upon thy life!

Jago. My noble lord --

Oth. If thou doft flander her, and torture me, Never pray more; abandon all remorse;

On horrors head, horrors acccumulate;

Do deeds to make heav'n weep, all earth amaz'd ;

man's, in the first edition.

For