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I pray you, bring me on the way a little ;
Cas. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
Scene-a Court before the Palace.
Enter Othello and I ago.
Iago. Or to be naked with her friend in bed, An hour or more, not meaning any harm ?
Oih. Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm?
Oth. What then?
lago. Why then, 'tis hers, my lord; and being She may I think, bestow't on any man. [hers,
Oth. She is protectress of her honour too ; May she give that?
Iago. Her honour is an essence that's not seen ; They have it very oft, that have it not: But for the handkerchief
Iago. Ay, what of that?
Iago. What if I said, I'd seen him do you wrong?
(65) The back of Iago's head looked at horizontally, and with the south side of the moon on the right hand, is like the head of a raven, as drawn in
Convinced or supplied them, they can't choose
[did lago. Why, that he did I know not what he Oth. What? what? Iago. LieOth. With her? Iago. With her, on her, what you will
Oth. Lie with her! lie on her! lie with her! that's fulsome: handkerchief-confessions-bandkerchief-handkerchief to confess and be hanged for his labour-First to be hanged, and then-to confess! I tremble at it-Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing without some instruction. It is not words that shake me thus pish-noses, ears, and lips-is't possible!-confess! hundkerchief!-Oh devil!
[Falls in a Trance. Iago. Work on,
(caught; My medicine, work! thus credulous fools are And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, All guiltless, meet reproach. What, hoa! my My lord, I say, Othello.--
[lord! . Enter Cassio. How now, Cassio ?
Cas. What's the matter?
Tago. My lord is fell into an epilepsy,
Iago. No, forbear,
[Exit Cassio. How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?
Oth. Dost thou mock me? · Iago. I mock you not, by Heaven : Would you would bear your fortunes like a man.
Oth. A horned man's a monster and a beast.
Iago. There's many a beast then in a populous And many a civil monster.
[city. Oth. Did he confess it?
Iago. Good Sir, be a man ; Think, every bearded fellow, that's but yoked, May draw with you. Millions are now alive, That nightly lie in those unproper beds, [ter. Which they dare swear peculiar. Your case is betOh, 'tis the spight of 'hell, the fiend's arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure couch; And to suppose her chaste. No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.
Oth. Oh, thou art wise ; 'tis certain.
Iago. Stand you a while apart,
Oth. Dost thou hear, Iago ?
Iago. That's not amiss ;