I do beseech your lordship call her back.

Oth. Mistress.

Des. My lord.

Oth. What would you with her, Sir?

Lod. Who I, my lord?

Oth. I! you did wish that I would make her turn:
Sir, she can turn and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again. And the can weep, Sir, weep;
And she's obedient: as you fay obedient,
Very obedient----proceed you in your tears
Concerning this, Sir,--oh well painted passion!--
I am commanded home get you away,
I'll fend for you anon ---- Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice ---Hence, avant!-

Caffio fhall have my place. And, Sir, to-night

I do entreat that we may fup together.

You are welcome, Sir, to Cyprus ---

Goats and Monkies!

SCENE

[Exit Deld.

[Exit.

VII.

Manent Lodovico, and Jago.

Lod. Is this the noble Moor, whom our full fenate

Call all-in-all fufficient? this the nature

Which paffion could not shake? whose solid virtue
The fhot of accident nor dart of chance

Could neither graze nor pierce?

Fago. He is much chang'd.

Lod. Are his wits fafe? is he not of light brain?

Fago. He's what he is; I may not breathe my cenfure.

What he might be, if what he might he is not,

I would to heav'n he were.

Lod. What, ftrike his wife!

Fago.

Fago. 'Faith that was not fo well; yet would I knew That stroke would prove the worst.

Lod. Is it his use?

Or did the letters work upon his blood,

And new-create this fault?

Fago. Alas, alas!

It is not honesty in me to speak

What I have seen and known. You fhall obferve him,

And his own courses will denote him so,

That I may save my fpeech. Do but go after,

And mark how he continues.

Lod. I'm forry that I am deceiv'd in him.

SCENE VIII.

An Apartment.

Enter Othello and Æmilia.

OU have seen nothing then?

[Exeunt.

Oth. YEmil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did fufpect.
Y°

Oth. Yes, you have feen Caffio and her together.
Emil. But then I faw no harm; and then I heard
Each syllable that breath made up between them.
Oth. What? did they never whisper?

Emil. Never, my lord.

Oth. Nor fend you out o' th' way?

Emil. Never.

Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? Emil. Never, my lord.

Oth. That's strange!

Emil. I durft, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my foul at stake; if you think other, Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bosom.

If any wretch hath put this in your head,
Let heav'n requite it with the ferpent's curse;
For if she be not honest, chast and true,

There's no man happy, the pureft of their wives
Is foul as flander.

Oth. Bid her come hither, go.

She fays enough; yet she's a fimple bawd

That cannot say as much. This is a fubtle whore,
A closet-lock and key of villanous fecrets;

And yet she'll kneel, and pray; I've seen her do't.

Enter Defdemona and Emilia.

Def. My lord, what is your will?

Oth. Pray you, chuck, come hither.
Def. What is your pleasure?

Oth. Let me fee your eyes; look in my face.
Def. What horrible fancy's this?

Oth. Some of your function, mistress,
Leave procreants alone, and fhut the door,
Cough, or cry hem, if any body come.

Your mystery, your mystery; nay dispatch.

[Exit Emilia.

[Exit Emilia.

Def. Upon my knee, what doth your speech import?

I understand a fury in your words,

+ But not your words.

Oth. Why? what art thou?

Def. Your wife, my lord; your true and loyal wife.
Oth. Come fwear it; damn thy felf; left being like one
Of heav'n, the devils themselves fhould fear to feize thee.
Therefore be double damn'd; fwear thou art honest.

Def. Heav'n doth truly know it.

Oth. Heav'n truly knows,

VOL. VI.

Bbbb

This line is added out of the first edition.

That

That thou art false as hell.

Def. To whom, my lord? With whom? how am I falfe?

Oth. Ah, Desdemon, away, away, away

Def. Alas the heavy day! why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
If haply you my father do suspect

An inftrument of this your calling back,

Lay not your blame on me; if you've loft him,
Why I have loft him too.

Oth. Had it pleas'd heav'n

To try me with affliction, had he rain'd
All kind of fores and fhames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
Giv'n to captivity me and my hopes;
I should have found in some place of my soul
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of scorn
To point his flow and moving finger at
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well.
But there where I have garner'd up my heart,
Where either I must live, or bear no life,
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or elle dries up; to be difcarded thence;

Or keep it as a ciftern, for foul toads

1111

To knot and gender in. Turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rofe-lipp'd cherubin;
I here look grim as hell.

Def. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. Oh ay, as fummer-flies are in the shambles,
That quicken ev❜n with blowing. Oh thou weed!
Who art fo lovely fair, and fmell'st so sweet,
That the fenfe akes at thee-

Would thou had'ft ne'er been born!

Def.

Def. Alas, what ignorant fin have I committed?
Oth. Was this fair paper, this moft goodly book,
Made to write whore upon? What, committed?
Committed? Oh, thou publick commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cynders burn up modesty,
Did but I speak thy deeds.
Heav'n stops the nose at it,

What, committed?
and the moon winks;

The bawdy wind, that kiffes all it meets,
Is hufh'd within the hollow mine of earth
And will not hear't. What, committed?
Des. By heav'n, you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a strumpet?
Def. No, as I am a christian.
If to preserve this veffel for my lord
From any other foul unlawful touch,
Be not to be a ftrumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a whore?
Def. No, as I fhall be saved.
Oth. Is't poffible?

Def. Oh heav'n forgive us.
Oth. I cry you mercy, then.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,

That married with Othello

SCENE X.

Enter Æmilia.

You mistress,

That have the office oppofite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay you!
We have done our course, there's mony for your pains;

I pray you turn the key, and keep our counsel.

Bbbb 2

[Exit. Emil.