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Def. How now, good Cassio, what's the news with you? Eas. Madam, my former suit.

I do beseech you, That by your virtuous means I

may again
Exist, and be a member of his love ;
Whom I, with all the office of my heart,
Intirely honour.

I would not be delay'd;
If my offence be of such mortal kind,
That not my service past, nor present sorrows,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,
Can ransom me into his love again ;
But to know so, must be


So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content,
And shut myself up in some other course,
To fortune's alms.

Def. Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio,
My advocation is not now in tune;
My lord is not my lord ; nor should I know him,
Were he in favour, as in humour, alter'd.
So help me every spirit fan&ified,
As I have spoken for you all my best;
And stood within the blank of his displeasure,
For my free speech ? you must a-while be patient ;
What I can do, I will : and more I will
Than for myself I dare. Let That suffice you.

Iago. Is my lord angry?

Emil. He went hence but now;
And, certainly, in ftrange unquietness.

lago. Can he be angry? I have seen the Cannon,
When it hath blown his ranks into the air,
And, like the Devil, from his very arm
Puft his own brother; and can he be angry ?
Something of moment then; I will go meet him;
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. [Exit.

Manent Desdemona, Æmilia, and Caffio.

Pr'ythee, do so.—Something, sure, of State,


. I ,


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T H E L L Ở.
Made here demonftrable in Cyprus to him,
Hath puddled his clear spirit; and, in such cases,
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
Tho' great ones are their object. 'Tis ev'n so.
For let our finger ake, and it endues
Our other healthful menibers with a sense
Of pain. Nay, we must think, Men are not Gods;
Nor of them look for such observance always,
As fits the bridal. Belbrew me much, Æmilia,
I was (unhandsome wrangler, as I am.)
Arraigning his unkindness with


foul; But now I find, I had suborn’d the witness, And he's indited falsely,

Æmil. Pray heav'n, it be
State-matter, as you think; and no conception,
Nor jealous toy concerning you.

Def. Alas-the-day, I never gave him cause.
Æmil. But jealous fouls will not be answer'd so ;
They are not ever jealous for a cause;
But jealous, for they're jealous. It's a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.

Def. Heav'n keep that monfter from Othello's mind!
Emil. Lady, amen.

Def. I will go seek him. Caffio, walk hereabout;
If I đo find him fit, I'll move your suit,
And seek t' effect it to my uttermoft.
Caf. I humbly thank your Ladyship.

Exeunt Desdemona and Æmilia at one

door; Caflio, at the other.
Changes to the Street before the Palace.

Re-enter Caffio, meeting Bianca.
Bian. ) AVE you, friend Caffio.

Caf. What makes you from home?
How is it with you, my most fair Bianca ?
Indeed, sweet Love, I was coming to your house.


Bian. And I was going to your lodging, Cåffio. What ? keep a week away ? seven days and nights ? Eightscore eight hours ? and lovers' abfent hours, More tedious than the dial, eightscore times ? Oh weary reck'ning!

Caf. Pardon me, Bianca: I have this while with leaden thoughts been prest; But I shall in a more convenient time Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,

(Giving her Desdemona's Handkerchief. Take me this work out.

Bian. Oh Caffio, whence came this? This is some roken from a newer friend : Of thy felt absence now I feel a cause : Is't come to this ? well, well.

Caf. Go to, woman: Throw your vile guesses in the Devil's teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now, That this is from some mistress, some remembrance ? No, in good troth, Bianca.

Bian. Why, whose is it?..

Caf. I know not neither; I found it in my chamber; I like the work well; ere it be demanded, As like enough it will, I'd have it copied : Take it, and do't, and leave me for this time.

Bian. Leave you ? wherefore ?

Caf. I do attend here on the General,
And think it no addition, nor my wish,
To have him see me woman'd.

Bian. Why, I pray you ?
Caf. Not that I love you not.

Bian. But that you do not love me ;
I pray you, bring me on the way a little;
And say, if I shall see you soon at night?

Caf. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
For I attend here. But I'll see you soon.
Bian. 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanc’d.

[Exeunt. АСТ

E L L 0




A Court before the PAL AC E.
Enter Othello, and Iago.


think so?
Oth. Think so, lago?
lago. What, to kiss in private?
Oth. An unauthoriz'd kiss ?

Iago. Or to be naked with a friend in bed, An hour or more, not meaning any harm ?

Oth. Naked in bed, lago, and not mean harm? It is hypocrisy against the Devil: They that mean virtuously, and yet do so, The Devil their virtue tempts not; they tempt heav'n.

Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a venial flip: But if I give my wife a handkerchief

Oth. What then ?

Iago. Why then, 'tis hers, my lord; and being hers, She may, I'think, bestow't on any man.

Oth. She is propertied of her honour tóo ;
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-

Oth. By heav'n, I would most gladly have forgot it;
Thou said'it,-ho, it comes o'er my memory,
As doth the Raven o'er th' infected house,
Boading to ill, -he had my handkerchief.

Iago. Ay, what of that?
Oth. That's not so good now.

Iago. What if I said, I'd seen him do you wrong?
Or heard him say, (as knaves be such abroad,
Who having by their own importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some mistrefs,


Convinc'd or suppled them, they cannot chuse
But they must blab.)

Oth. Hath he said any thing?

Iago. He hath, my lord; but be you well assurd, No more than he'll unswear.

Oth. What hath he said ?
Iago. Why, that he did --- I know not what he

Oth. What? what ?
Iago. Lie-
Oth. With her ?
Iago. With her; on her--what you will

Oth. Lie with her! lie on her! lie with her! that's fulsom: handkerchief-confeflions-handkerchiefhandkerchief - to confess, and be hang'd for his labour--First, to be hang'd, and then--to confess! - I tremble at it-Nature would not inveft herself in such fhadowing without some induction. It is not words, that shake me thus--pilhnoses, ears, and lips--is't poflible!--confefs !--handkerchief! - oh deyil

[Falls in a trance. Iago. Work on, My medicine, work! thus credulous fools are caught; And many worthy and chafte Dames even thus, All guiltless, meet reproach. What hoa! my lord ! My lord, I say, Othello.


Enter Caflio. How now, Cafio ?

Caf. What's the matter?

lago. My lord is fell into an Epilepsy, This is the second Fit; he had one yesterday.

Caj. Rub him about the temples.

lago. No, forbear, The lethargy muft have his quiet course; If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by


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