OTHELLO'S STORY OF THE HANDKERCHIEF. Did an Egyptian to my mother give; Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt Des. Is it possible? Oth. 'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it: A sibyl that had number'd in the world The sun to make two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sew'd the work. The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk, And it was died in mummy, which the skilful Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. A LOVER'S COMPUTATION OF TIME. What I keep a week away? seven days and nights! Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning! ACT IV. Oth. OTHELLO'S DISTRACTION. What hath he said? Iago. 'Faith, that he did,-I know not what he did. Oth. What? what? Iago. Lie Oth. Iago. With her? With her, on her; what you will. Oth. Lie with her! lie on her-We say, lie on * Enchantress. her, when they belie her: Lie with her! that's fulsome. Handkerchief,-confessions,--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 passion, without some instruction. It is not words, that shake me thus:-Pish!-Noses, ears, and lips; -Is it possible?—Confess!--Handkerchief!--0 devil! HIS FONDNESS. [Falls in a trance. A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman! Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night; 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, lago, the pity of it, Iago. HIS CONFIRMED JEALOUSY. Oth. Mistress, Des. Oth. My lord? What would you with her, sir? Lod. Who, I, my lord? Oth. Ay; you did wish, that I would make her turn; Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, + Of so sweet disposition. 24* Concerning this, sir,-O, well-painted passion; [Exit DESDEMONA 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! HIS PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF DESDEMONA. [Exit. Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech im port? I understand a fury in your words, But not the words. Oth. Why, what art thou? Des. And loyal wife. Oth. Your wife, my ord; your truc Come, swear it, dan thyself; Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: the efore be double 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 teas, my lord? If, haply, you my father do su pect, Oth. A fixed figure, for the time of scorn Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: To knot and gender in!-turn thy complexion there Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. 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, Des. By heaven, you do me wrong Oth. Are not you a strumpet? Des. No, as I am a christian: If to preserve this vessel for my lord, From any other foul unlawful touch, Be--not to be a strumpet, I am none. Oth. What, not a whore? Des. Oth. Is it possible? No, as I shall be save Des. O, heaven forgive us! * Treasured up. Oth. I cry you mercy, then. I took you for that cunning whore of Venice, DESDEMONA'S FIDELITY. O, good Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven, If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, Or that I do not yet, and ever did, And ever will-Though he do shake me off ACT V. OTHELLO'S IRRESOLUTION TO MURDER DESDEMONA. SCENE. A Bedchamber; DESDEMONA in bed asleep. A light burning. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul.Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars' It is the cause.--Yet I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. [Takes off his sword Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light:* If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me:-but once put out thine, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat, That can thy light relume. When I have pluck' thy rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, * i. e. The light of life. |