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 time of scorn.

To point his slow unmoving finger at,
O! 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 cherubin;
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 black weed,a
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,

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

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,

2

- for the time of scorn

To point his slow unmoving finger at,-]I should prefer adopting the emendation of Rowe and M. Mason, and reading,

-for the hand of scorn

To point his slowly moving finger at,—

if such a departure from the old copies were allowable. In explanation of the present reading it can only be said, as Malone has suggested, "that in the clocks of the last age, there was in the middle of the dial plate a figure of time, which was probably in our poet's thoughts when he wrote this pas sage: and that by unmoving he meant by poetic license not appearing to move. · garner'd up-] That is, treasured up.

b

e

turn thy complexion there! &c.] 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.

d

black weed,] The insertion of the epithet black, i. e. noxious, is necessary to the metre, and is taken from the quarto of 1622.

Made to write whore upon? What committed!
Committed!-0 thou publick 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 you not 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?

Des. O, heaven forgive us!

Oth.

No, as I shall be saved.

I cry you mercy, then :

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.-You, mistress,

Re-enter EMILIA.

That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you
We have done our course; there's money for your pains;
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.

[Exit.

Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?—

How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
Des. 'Faith, half asleep.

Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?
Des. With who?

Emil.

Why, with my lord, madam.

Des. Who is thy lord?

Emil.

He that is yours, sweet lady.

Des. I have none: Do not talk to me, Emilia;

I cannot weep; nor answer I have none,

But what should go by water. Pr'ythee, to-night

Lay on my bed my wedding sheets,-remember ;-
And call thy husband hither.
Emil.

Here is a change, indeed.

Des. 'Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet. • How have I been behav'd, that he might stick The small'st opinion on my great'st abuse?

Re-enter EMILIA, with IAGO.

[Exit.

Iago. What is your pleasure, madam? How is it with you?

Des. I cannot tell. Those, that do teach young babes, Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks:

He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,

I am a child to chiding.

Iago.

What's the matter, lady?

Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,

As true hearts cannot bear.

Des. Am I that name, Iago?
Iago.

What name, fair lady?

lord did say I was.

Des. Such as, she says, my
Emil. He call'd her, whore; a beggar, in his drink,
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.
Iago. Why did he so?

Des. I do not know; I am sure, I am none such.
Iago. Do not weep, do not weep; Alas, the day!
Emil. Has she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father, and her country, and her friends,
To be call'd-whore? would it not make one weep?
Des. It is my wretched fortune.
Iago.

How comes this trick upon him?

Des.

Beshrew him for it!

Nay, heaven doth know.

Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Some bury and insinuating rogue,

Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devis'd this slander; I'll be hang'd, else.

callet.] i. e. A lewd woman; so called (says Dr. Grey) from the French calote, which was a sort of head-dress worn by country girls.-STEEVENS.

Iago. Fye, there is no such man; it is impossible.
Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him!

Emil. A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones! Why should he call her, whore? who keeps her com

pany?

:

What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?
The Moor's abus'd by some most villainous knave,
Some base notoriousf knave, some scurvy fellow :-
O, heaven, that such companionss thou'dst unfold;
And put in every honest hand a whip,
To lash the rascal naked through the world,
Even from the east to the west!

Speak within door.h

Iago.
Emil. O, fye upon him! some such squire he was,
That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,

And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

Iago. You are a fool; go to.

Des.

O, good Iago,

What shall I do to win my lord again?

Good friends, 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,

i

Either in discourse or 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. I cannot say, whore;
It does abhor me, now I speak the word;

f

SON.

notorious-] For gross, not in its proper meaning for known.-JOHN

such companions] Companion, in the time of Shakspeare, was used as a word of contempt, in the same sense as fellow is at this day.-MALONE. b Speak within door.] Do not clamour so as to be heard beyond the house.JOHNSON.

i discourse or thought,] The reading of the old copies is discourse of thought; the emendation of the text was made by Pope, and defended by Stee"The line alludes to the three ways of committing sin mentioned in the Catholic Catechisms, in thought, word, and deed."

vens.

To do the act that might the addition earn,
Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.
Iago. I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour;
The business of the state does him offence,

And he does chide with you.

Des.

If 'twere no other,

Iago. It is but so, I warrant you.

[Trumpets.

Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
And the great messengers of Venice stay:

Go in, and weep not: all things shall be well.

[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA.

Enter RODErigo.

How now, Roderigo?

Rod. I do not find, that thou deal'st justly with me. Iago. What in the contrary?

Rod. Every day thou doff'st me with some device, Iago; and rather (as it seems to me now,) keep'st from me all conveniency, than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will, indeed, no longer endure it: Nor am I yet persuaded, to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered.

Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo?

Rod. 'Faith, I have heard too much; for your words, and performances, are no kin together.

Iago. You charge me most unjustly.

Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me, to deliver to Desdemona, would half have corrupted a votarist: You have told me-she has received them, and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquittance; but I find none.

Iago. Well; go to; very well.

Rod. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis not very well: By this hand, I say, it is very scurvy; and begin to find myself fobbed in it.

Iago. Very well.

Rod. I tell you, 'tis not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona: If she will return me my acquittance ;] i. e. Requital.

k