OTHELLO'S STORY OF THE HANDKERCHIEF.
Oth. That handkerchief

Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer,* and could almost read
The thoughts of people: she told her, while she
kept it,

Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father
Entirely to her love; but if she lost it,

Or made a gift of it, my father's eye

Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies: She, dying, gave it me;
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
To give it her. I did so: and take heed of 't,
Make it a darling like your precious eye;
To lose or give 't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.

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!
Iago. Nay, you must forget that.

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,
And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
And she's obedient, as you say,―obedient,—
Very obedient;-Proceed you in your tears.—
* A proverbial saying.

+ Of so sweet disposition.

24*

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!

[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,
An instrument of this your ca ing back,
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.

Oth.
Hd 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;
1 should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience: but (ala, to make me

A fixed figure, for the time 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;
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 cherubim;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!

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,
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it: What committed!-
Impudent strumpet!

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,
That married with Othello.

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,
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:-

If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them in any other form;

Or that I do not yet, and ever did,

And ever will-Though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement,-love him dearly,
Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much;
And his unkindness may defeat my life,
But never taint my love.

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.