Enter Lodovico, Defdemona, and Attendants, from the

Lod.

SAV

Palace.

AVE you, worthy General..
Oth. With all my heart, Sir.

Lod. The Duke and the Senators of Venice greet you.

[Gives him a letter. Oth. I kifs the Inftrument of their pleasures. Def. And what's the news, good Coufin Lodovico? Iago. I am very glad to fee you, fignior.

Welcome to Cyprus.

Lod. I thank you; how does lieutenant Caffio?
Iago. Lives, Sir.

Def. Coufin, there's fall'n between him and my

lord

An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.

Oth. Are you fure of that?

Def. My lord?

Oth. This fail you not to do, as you will

[Afide.

[Reads.

Lod. He did not call; he's bufy in the paper.
Is their divifion 'twixt my lord and Caffio?
Def. A moft unhappy one; I would do much
T'atone them, for the love I bear to Caffio.
Oth. Fire and brimstone !

Defo My lord devi

Oth. Are you wife?

Def. What, is he angry?

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

For, as I think, they do command him home,

Deputing Caffio in his

Def. Truft me, I a Government.

Oth. Indeed!

Def. My lord!

glad on't. ;

[Afide.

[Striking her.

Lod.

Def. I have not deferv'd this.

Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice, Though I should swear, I faw't. 'Tis very much ; Make her amends, fhe weeps.

Oth. Oh devil, devil!

If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop, the falls, would prove a crocodile:
Out of my fight-

Def. I will not ftay t' offend you.

Lod. Truly, an obedient lady :

I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

Oth. Miftrefs,

Def. My lord.

Oth. What would you with her, Sir?

Lod. Who, I, my lord?

[Going.

Oth. Ay; you did wifh, that I would make her

turn:

Sir, fhe can turn and turn, and yet go on;
And turn again. And the can weep, Sir, weep;
And fhe's obedient: as you fay, obedient;
Very obedient-proceed
-proceed you in your tears.
Concerning this, Sir,-oh well-painted paffion !-
I am commanded home- get you away,
I'll fend for you anon,Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice. Hence, avant!-
Exit Defdemona.
Caffio fhall have my Place. And, Sir, tonight
I do entreat that we may fup together.
You are welcome, Sir, to Cyprus-

Goats and monkeys!

SCENE

[Exit.

VII.

Manent Lodovico, and Iago.

I

S this the noble Moor, whom our full

Lod. Is

Senate...

Call all-in-all fufficient? this the Nature,
Which paffion could not fhake? whofe folid virtue

The

The fhot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither raze, nor pierce ?

lago. He is much chang'd. ́

Lod. Are his wits fafe? is he not light of brain? Iago. He's what he is? I may

fure.

not breathe my cen

What he might be, if what he might he is not,

I would to heaven, he were !

Lod. What, ftrike his wife!

Iago. 'Faith, that was not fo well; yet 'would I knew,

That ftroke would prove the worft.

Lod. Is it his use?

Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new-create this fault?

Iago. Alas, alas !

It is not honefty in me to speak

What I have feen and known. You fhall observe

him,

And his own courfes will denote him fo,

That I may fave my fpeech. Do but go after,

And mark how he continues.

Lod. I'm forry, that I am deceiv'd in him. [Exeunt.

Oth.

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Othello and Emilia.

OU have feen nothing then?

Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever
pect.

did fuf

Oth. Yes, you have feen Caffio and her together. Emil. But then I faw no harm; and then I heard Each fyllable, that breath made up between them. Oth. "What? did they never whisper?

Emil. Never, my lord.

Oth. Nor fend you out o'th' way?

T 3

Emil.

Emil. Never.

Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mafk, nor nothing?

Emil. Never, my lord.
Oth. That's ftrange!

Emil. I durft, my lord, to wager she is honeft, Lay down my foul at flake: if you think other, Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bofům. If any wretch hath put this in your head,

Let heav'n requite it with the ferpent's curse!
For if he be not honeft, chafte and true,

There's no man happy; the pureft of their wives
Is foul as flander.

Oth. Bid her come hither, go.

[Exit Emilia. She says enough; yet fhe's a fimple bawd,

That cannot fay as much. This is a subtle whore, A closet lock and key of villanous fecrets;

And yet she'll kneel, and pray: I've seen her do't

Y

Def. My lord, what is your will?

Oth. Pray you, chuck, come hither.

Def. What is your pleasure?

Oth. Let me fee your eyes; look in my face.
Def. What horrible fancy's this?

Oth. Some of your function, mistress;
Leave procreants alone, and fhut the door,
Cough, or cry, hem, if any body come.

Your miftery, your miftery;-nay, dispatch,

Exit Emilia.

Def. Upon my knee, what doth your speech im port?

I understand a fury in your words,

But not your words.

Oth Why? what art thou?

Def. Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife.

Oth.

Oth. Come, fwear it; damn thyself; left, being like

one

Of heav'n, the devils themselves fhould fear to feize thee.

Therefore be double-damn'd; fwear, thou art honeft.
Def. Heav'n doth truly know it.
Oth. Heav'n truly knows,
That thou art falfe as hell.
Def. To whom, my lord?
With whom? how am I false?

Oth. Ah, Defdemona! away, away, away--
Def. Alas, the heavy day! why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
If, haply, you my father do suspect

An inftrument of this your calling back,

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

Oth. Had it pleas'd heav'n

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

Giv'n to captivity me and my hopes;

I should have found in fome place of my foul
A drop of patience. But, alas to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of fcorn
To point his flow unmoving finger at
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well.
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
Where either I muft live, or bear no life,
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or elfe dries up; to be difcarded thence;
Or keep it as a ciftern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in: Turn thy complexion thence,
Patience, thou young, and rofe-lip'd cherubin;
I here look grim as hell.

Def. I hope, my noble lord efteems me honest. Oth. Oh, ay, as fummer flies are in the fhambles, That quicken ev'n with blowing.