Jago. Nay, you must forget that.

Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned tonight; for she shall not live: No, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks.

Iago. Nay, that's not your way.

Oth. Hang her! I do but say what she is so delicate with her needle !-An admirable musician! O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!-Of so high and plenteous wit and invention !

Iago. She's the worse for all this.

Oth. O, a thousand, a thousand times :-And then, of so gentle a condition!

Iago. Ay, too gentle.

Oth. Nay, that's certain: But yet the pity of it, Iago !--O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago!

Iago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes near nobody. Oth. I will chop her into messes :-Cuckold me! lago. O, 'tis foul in her.

Oth. With mine officer!
Iago. That's fouler.

Oth. Get me some poison, Iago; this night :-I'll not expostulate with her, lest her body, and beauty unprovide my mind again :-this night, Iago.

Iago. Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.

Oth. Good, good: the justice of it pleases; very good. Iago. And, for Cassio,-let me be his undertaker : You shall hear more by midnight. [A trumpet within. Oth. Excellent good.-What trumpet is that same ? Iago. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico, Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him. Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants.

Lod. 'Save you, worthy general!

Oth. With all my heart, sir.

Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you.

[Gives him a packet.

Oth. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.

[Opens the packet, and reads

Des. And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico ? lago. I am very glad to see you, signior;

Welcome to Cyprus.

Lod. I thank you: How does lieutenant Cassio ?
Iago. Lives, sir.

Des. Cousin, there's fallen between him and my lord An unkind breach: but you shall make all well. Oth. Are you sure of that?

as you

will

Des. My lord?
Oth. This fail you not to do,
Lod. He did not call; he's busy in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt thy lord and Cassio?
Des. A most unhappy one; I would do much
To atone them,' for the love I bear to Cassio.
Oth. Fire and brimstone !

Des. My lord?

Oth. Are you wise?

Des. What, is he angry

?

Lod. 'May be, the letter mov'd him ;

For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.

Des. By my troth, I am glad on't.

Oth. Indeed?

Des. My lord?

Oth. I am glad to see you mad.

Des. How, sweet Othello?

Oth. Devil!

Des. I have not deserv'd this.

[Reads.

[Striking her.

Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice, Though I should swear I saw it: "Tis very much; Make her amends, she weeps.

Oth. O devil, devil!

If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,

Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile :~~

Out of my sight!

Des. I will not stay to offend you.

Lod. Truly, an obedient lady :

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?

[Going

Oth. Ay; you did wish, that I would make her turn: Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,

[9] Atone them---make them one; reconcile them. The expression is formed by the coalescence of the word at one, the verb to set, or some equivalent being omitted. Thus in the Acts: "---he showed himself to them as they strove, and would have set them at one again." And in The Beehive of the Romish Church : “---through which God is made at one with us, and hath forgiven us our sins." HENLEY.

And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
And she's obedient, as you say,―obedient,-
Very obedient ;-Proceed you in your tears.-
Concerning this, sir,-O well-painted passion!—
I am commanded home :-Get you away;

I'll send for you anon.-Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice ;-Hence, avaunt! [Ex. DESD.
Cassio shall have my place.' And,-sir, to-night,

I do entreat that we may sup together.

You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.--Goats and monkies ![Ex. 121 Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call-all-in-all sufficient ?--this the noble nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze, nor pierce ?

Iago. He is much chang'd.

Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?
Iago. He is that he is; I may not breathe my censure.
What he might be,-if, what he might, he is not,-

I would to heaven, he were.

Lod. What, strike his wife!

Iago. 'Faith, that was not so 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?

Iago. Alas, alas !

It is not honesty in me, to speak

What I have seen and known. You shall observe him ;

And his own courses will denote him so,

That I may save my speech: Do but go after,

And mark how he continues.

Lod. I am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

A Room in the Castle. Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA.
Oth. You have seen nothing then?

Emil. Nor ever heard; nor ever did suspect.
Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
Emil. But then I saw no harm; and then I heard
Each syllable, that breath made up between them.

[1] Perhaps this is addressed to Desdemona, who had just expressed her joy on hearing Cassio was deputed in the room of her husband. Her innocent satisfaction in the hope of returning to her native place, is construed by Othello, into the plea. sure she received from the advancement of his rival. STEEVENS.

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

Oth. That's strange.

Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,
Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch hath put this in your head,

Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,

There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
Is foul as slander.

Oth. Bid her come hither :-go.

[Exit EMIL

She says enough ;--yet she's a simple bawd,
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,

A closet-lock-and-key of villanous secrets ;

And yet she'll kneel, and pray; I have seen her do't.
Re-enter EMILIA, with DESDEMONA.

Des. My lord, what is your will?

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

Oth. Let me see your eyes;

Look in my face.

Des. What horrible fancy's this?

Oth. [To EMIL.] Some of your function, mistress ; Leave procreants alone, and shut the door;

Cough, or cry-hem, if any body come :

Your mystery, your mystery ;-nay, despatch. [Ex. EMIL.
Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words,

But not the words.

Oth. Why, what art thou?

Des. Your wife, my lord; your true

And loyal wife.

Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself;

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double-damn'd, Swear-thou art honest.

Des. Heaven doth truly know it.

Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as hell. Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? How am I false ?

Oth. O Desdemona!-away! away! away!

Des. Alas, the heavy day!-why do you weep? Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord?

If, haply, you my father do suspect,

An instrument of this your calling back,

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

Oth. Had it pleas'd heaven

To try me with affliction; had he rain'd
All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips ;

Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience but (alas!) to make me
A fixed figure, for the hand of Scorn

To point his slow unmoving finger at,-
0! O!

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well :
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart ;2
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in !-turn thy complexion there!
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!3

Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,

That the sense aches at thee.-'Would, thou hadst ne'er been born!

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write whore upon? What committed!
Committed!-0 thou public commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds.-What committed!
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,

[2] That is, treasured up; the garner and the fountain are improperly conjoined. [3] At such an object do thou, Patience, thyself change colour; at this do thou, even thou, rosy cherub, as thou art, look as grim as hell. JOHNSON.