Othello · Chapter 4Part 4
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If she be false, Heauen mock'd it selfe: Ile not beleeue't
Des. How now, my deere Othello? Your dinner, and the generous Islanders By you inuited, do attend your presence
Oth. I am too blame
Des. Why do you speake so faintly? Are you not well? Oth. I haue a paine vpon my Forehead, heere
Des. Why that's with watching, 'twill away againe. Let me but binde it hard, within this houre It will be well
Oth. Your Napkin is too little: Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you. Enter.
Des. I am very sorry that you are not well. Aemil. I am glad I haue found this Napkin: This was her first remembrance from the Moore, My wayward Husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to steale it. But she so loues the Token, (For he coniur'd her, she should euer keepe it) That she reserues it euermore about her, To kisse, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out, And giu't Iago: what he will do with it Heauen knowes, not I: I nothing, but to please his Fantasie. Enter Iago.
Iago. How now? What do you heere alone? Aemil. Do not you chide: I haue a thing for you
Iago. You haue a thing for me? It is a common thing- Aemil. Hah? Iago. To haue a foolish wife. Aemil. Oh, is that all? What will you giue me now For that same Handkerchiefe
Iago. What Handkerchiefe? Aemil. What Handkerchiefe? Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona, That which so often you did bid me steale
Iago. Hast stolne it from her? Aemil. No: but she let it drop by negligence, And to th' aduantage, I being heere, took't vp: Looke, heere 'tis
Iago. A good wench, giue it me. Aemil. What will you do with't, that you haue bene so earnest to haue me filch it? Iago. Why, what is that to you? Aemil. If it be not for some purpose of import, Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, shee'l run mad When she shall lacke it
Iago. Be not acknowne on't: I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me.
Exit aemil.
I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin, And let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre, Are to the iealious, confirmations strong, As proofes of holy Writ. This may do something. The Moore already changes with my poyson: Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons, Which at the first are scarse found to distaste: But with a little acte vpon the blood, Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so. Enter Othello.
Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora, Nor all the drowsie Syrrups of the world Shall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepe Which thou owd'st yesterday
Oth. Ha, ha, false to mee? Iago. Why how now Generall? No more of that
Oth. Auant, be gone: Thou hast set me on the Racke: I sweare 'tis better to be much abus'd, Then but to know't a little
Iago. How now, my Lord? Oth. What sense had I, in her stolne houres of Lust? I saw't not, thought it not: it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, fed well, was free, and merrie. I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lippes: He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolne, Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all
Iago. I am sorry to heare this? Oth. I had beene happy, if the generall Campe, Pyoners and all, had tasted her sweet Body, So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for euer Farewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content; Farewell the plumed Troopes, and the bigge Warres, That makes Ambition, Vertue! Oh farewell, Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trumpe, The Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife, The Royall Banner, and all Qualitie, Pride, Pompe, and Circumstance of glorious Warre: And O you mortall Engines, whose rude throates Th' immortall Ioues dread Clamours, counterfet, Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone
Iago. Is't possible my Lord? Oth. Villaine, be sure thou proue my Loue a Whore; Be sure of it: Giue me the Occular proofe, Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule, Thou had'st bin better haue bin borne a Dog Then answer my wak'd wrath
Iago. Is't come to this? Oth. Make me to see't: or (at the least) so proue it, That the probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope, To hang a doubt on: Or woe vpon thy life
Iago. My Noble Lord
Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me, Neuer pray more: Abandon all remorse On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate: Do deeds to make Heauen weepe, all Earth amaz'd; For nothing canst thou to damnation adde, Greater then that
Iago. O Grace! O Heauen forgiue me! Are you a Man? Haue you a Soule? or Sense? God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Foole, That lou'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice! Oh monstrous world! Take note, take note (O World) To be direct and honest, is not safe. I thanke you for this profit, and from hence Ile loue no Friend, sith Loue breeds such offence
Oth. Nay stay: thou should'st be honest
Iago. I should be wise; for Honestie's a Foole, And looses that it workes for
Oth. By the World, I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not: I thinke that thou art iust, and thinke thou art not: Ile haue some proofe. My name that was as fresh As Dians Visage, is now begrim'd and blacke As mine owne face. If there be Cords, or Kniues, Poyson, or Fire, or suffocating streames, Ile not indure it. Would I were satisfied
Iago. I see you are eaten vp with Passion: I do repent me, that I put it to you. You would be satisfied? Oth. Would? Nay, and I will
Iago. And may: but how? How satisfied, my Lord? Would you the super-vision grossely gape on? Behold her top'd? Oth. Death, and damnation. Oh! Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I thinke, To bring them to that Prospect: Damne them then, If euer mortall eyes do see them boulster More then their owne. What then? How then? What shall I say? Where's Satisfaction? It is impossible you should see this, Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeyes, As salt as Wolues in pride, and Fooles as grosse As Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I say, If imputation, and strong circumstances, Which leade directly to the doore of Truth, Will giue you satisfaction, you might haue't
Oth. Giue me a liuing reason she's disloyall
Iago. I do not like the Office. But sith I am entred in this cause so farre (Prick'd too't by foolish Honesty, and Loue) I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately, And being troubled with a raging tooth, I could not sleepe. There are a kinde of men, So loose of Soule, that in their sleepes will mutter Their Affayres: one of this kinde is Cassio: In sleepe I heard him say, sweet Desdemona, Let vs be wary, let vs hide our Loues, And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand: Cry, oh sweet Creature: then kisse me hard, As if he pluckt vp kisses by the rootes, That grew vpon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh, And sigh, and kisse, and then cry cursed Fate, That gaue thee to the Moore
Oth. O monstrous! monstrous! Iago. Nay, this was but his Dreame
Oth. But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion, 'Tis a shrew'd doubt, though it be but a Dreame
Iago. And this may helpe to thicken other proofes, That do demonstrate thinly
Oth. Ile teare her all to peeces
Iago. Nay yet be wise; yet we see nothing done, She may be honest yet: Tell me but this, Haue you not sometimes seene a Handkerchiefe Spotted with Strawberries, in your wiues hand? Oth. I gaue her such a one: 'twas my first gift
Iago. I know not that: but such a Handkerchiefe (I am sure it was your wiues) did I to day See Cassio wipe his Beard with
Oth. If it be that
Iago. If it be that, or any, it was here. It speakes against her with the other proofes
Othel. O that the Slaue had forty thousand liues: One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Looke heere Iago, All my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone. Arise blacke vengeance, from the hollow hell, Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and hearted Throne To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosome with thy fraught, For 'tis of Aspickes tongues
Iago. Yet be content
Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood
Iago. Patience I say: your minde may change
Oth. Neuer Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea, Whose Icie Current, and compulsiue course, Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due on To the Proponticke, and the Hellespont: Euen so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace Shall neu'r looke backe, neu'r ebbe to humble Loue, Till that a capeable, and wide Reuenge Swallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen, In the due reuerence of a Sacred vow, I heere engage my words
Iago. Do not rise yet: Witnesse you euer-burning Lights aboue, You Elements, that clip vs round about, Witnesse that heere Iago doth giue vp The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody businesse euer
Oth. I greet thy loue, Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will vpon the instant put thee too't. Within these three dayes let me heare thee say, That Cassio's not aliue
Iago. My Friend is dead: 'Tis done at your Request. But let her liue
Oth. Damne her lewde Minx: O damne her, damne her. Come go with me a-part, I will withdraw To furnish me with some swift meanes of death For the faire Diuell. Now art thou my Lieutenant
Iago. I am your owne for euer.
Exeunt.
Scaena Quarta.
Enter Desdemona, aemilia, and Clown.
Des. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lyes? Clow. I dare not say he lies any where
Des. Why man? Clo. He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Souldier lyes, 'tis stabbing
Des. Go too: where lodges he? Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you where I lye
Des. Can any thing be made of this? Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuise a lodging, and say he lies heere, or he lies there, were to lye in mine owne throat
Des. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report? Clo. I will Catechize the world for him, that is, make Questions, and by them answer
Des. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will be well
Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
Exit Clo.
Des. Where should I loose the Handkerchiefe, aemilia? Aemil. I know not Madam
Des. Beleeue me, I had rather haue lost my purse Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore Is true of minde, and made of no such basenesse, As iealious Creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill-thinking. Aemil. Is he not iealious? Des. Who, he? I thinke the Sun where he was borne, Drew all such humors from him. Aemil. Looke where he comes. Enter Othello.
Des. I will not leaue him now, till Cassio be Call'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord? Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to dissemble! How do you, Desdemona? Des. Well, my good Lord
Oth. Giue me your hand. This hand is moist, my Lady
Des. It hath felt no age, nor knowne no sorrow
Oth. This argues fruitfulnesse, and liberall heart: Hot, hot, and moyst. This hand of yours requires A sequester from Liberty: Fasting, and Prayer, Much Castigation, Exercise deuout, For heere's a yong, and sweating Diuell heere That commonly rebels: 'Tis a good hand, A franke one
Des. You may (indeed) say so: For 'twas that hand that gaue away my heart
Oth. A liberall hand. The hearts of old, gaue hands: But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts
Des. I cannot speake of this: Come, now your promise
Oth. What promise, Chucke? Des. I haue sent to bid Cassio come speake with you
Oth. I haue a salt and sorry Rhewme offends me: Lend me thy Handkerchiefe
Des. Heere my Lord
Oth. That which I gaue you
Des. I haue it not about me
Oth. Not? Des. No indeed, my Lord
Oth. That's a fault: That Handkerchiefe Did an aegyptian to my Mother giue: She was a Charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, 'T would make her Amiable, and subdue my Father Intirely to her loue: But if she lost it, Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eye Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt After new Fancies. She dying, gaue it me, And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd) To giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't, Make it a Darling, like your precious eye: To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition, As nothing else could match
Des. Is't possible? Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it: A Sybill that had numbred in the world The Sun to course, two hundred compasses, In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke: The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke, And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull Conseru'd of Maidens hearts
Des. Indeed? Is't true? Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well
Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't? Oth. Ha? wherefore? Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash? Oth. Is't lost? Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way? Des. Blesse vs
Oth. Say you? Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were? Oth. How? Des. I say it is not lost
Oth. Fetcht, let me see't
Des. Why so I can: but I will not now: This is a tricke to put me from my suite, Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe
Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe, My minde mis-giues
Des. Come, come: you'l neuer meete a more sufficient man
Oth. The Handkerchiefe
Des. A man that all his time Hath founded his good Fortunes on your loue; Shar'd dangers with you
Oth. The Handkerchiefe
Des. Insooth, you are too blame
Oth. Away.
Exit Othello.
Aemil. Is not this man iealious? Des. I neu'r saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe, I am most vnhappy in the losse of it. Aemil. 'Tis not a yeare or two shewes vs a man: They are all but Stomackes, and we all but Food, They eate vs hungerly, and when they are full They belch vs. Enter Iago, and Cassio.
Looke you, Cassio and my Husband
Iago. There is no other way: 'tis she must doo't: And loe the happinesse: go, and importune her
Des. How now (good Cassio) what's the newes with you? Cassio. Madam, my former suite. I do beseech you, That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe Exist, and be a member of his loue, Whom I, with all the Office of my heart Intirely honour, I would not be delayd. If my offence, be of such mortall kinde, That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes, Nor purpos'd merit in futurity, Can ransome me into his loue againe, But to know so, must be my benefit: So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content, And shut my selfe vp in some other course To Fortunes Almes
Des. Alas (thrice-gentle Cassio) My Aduocation is not now in Tune; My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him, Were he in Fauour, as in Humour alter'd. So helpe me euery spirit sanctified, As I haue spoken for you all my best, And stood within the blanke of his displeasure For my free speech. You must awhile be patient: What I can do, I will: and more I will Then for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you
Iago. Is my Lord angry? Aemil. He went hence but now: And certainly in strange vnquietnesse
Iago. Can he be angry? I haue seen the Cannon When it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre, And like the Diuell from his very Arme Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry? Something of moment then: I will go meet him, There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
Exit
Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State, Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practise Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him, Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases, Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things, Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so. For let our finger ake, and it endues Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense Of paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods, Nor of them looke for such obseruancie As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia, I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am) Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule: But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse, And he's Indited falsely. Aemil. Pray heauen it bee State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception, Nor no Iealious Toy, concerning you
Des. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him cause. Aemil. But Iealious soules will not be answer'd so; They are not euer iealious for the cause, But iealious, for they're iealious. It is a Monster Begot vpon it selfe, borne on it selfe
Des. Heauen keepe the Monster from Othello's mind. Aemil. Lady, Amen
Des. I will go seeke him. Cassio, walke heere about: If I doe finde him fit, Ile moue your suite, And seeke to effect it to my vttermost.
Exit
Cas. I humbly thanke your Ladyship. Enter Bianca.
Bian. 'Saue you (Friend Cassio.) Cassio. What make you from home? How is't with you, my most faire Bianca? Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house
Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Cassio. What? keepe a weeke away? Seuen dayes, and Nights? Eight score eight houres? And Louers absent howres More tedious then the Diall, eight score times? Oh weary reck'ning
Cassio. Pardon me, Bianca: I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest, But I shall in a more continuate time Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca Take me this worke out
Bianca. Oh Cassio, whence came this? This is some Token from a newer Friend, To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause: Is't come to this? Well, well
Cassio. Go too, woman: Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth, From whence you haue them. You are iealious now, That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance; No, in good troth Bianca
Bian. Why, who's is it? Cassio. I know not neither: I found it in my Chamber, I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded (As like enough it will) I would haue it coppied: Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time
Bian. Leaue you? Wherefore? Cassio. I do attend heere on the Generall, And thinke it no addition, nor my wish To haue him see me woman'd
Bian. Why, I pray you? Cassio. Not that I loue you not
Bian. But that you do not loue me. I pray you bring me on the way a little, And say, if I shall see you soone at night? Cassio. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you, For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone
Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd.
Exeunt. omnes.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Othello, and Iago.
Iago. Will you thinke so? Oth. Thinke so, Iago? Iago. What, to kisse in priuate? Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse? Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed, An houre, or more, not meaning any harme? Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme? It is hypocrisie against the Diuell: They that meane vertuously, and yet do so, The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen
Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip: But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe
Oth. What then? Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers, She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man
Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too: May she giue that? Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene, They haue it very oft, that haue it not. But for the Handkerchiefe
Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it: Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie, As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house: Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe
Iago . I: what of that? Othe. That's not so good now
Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong? Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad, Who hauing by their owne importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris, Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse But they must blab.) Oth. Hath he said any thing? Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd, No more then he'le vn-sweare
Oth. What hath he said? Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did
Othe. What? What? Iago. Lye
Oth. With her? Iago. With her? On her: what you will
Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her, when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome: Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse, and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd, and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish) Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe? O diuell.
Falls in a Traunce.
Iago. Worke on, My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught, And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus, (All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord? My Lord, I say: Othello. Enter Cassio.
How now Cassio? Cas. What's the matter? Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie, This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday
Cas. Rub him about the Temples
Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course: If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres: Do you withdraw your selfe a little while, He will recouer straight: when he is gone, I would on great occasion, speake with you. How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head? Othe. Dost thou mocke me? Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen: Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man
Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast
Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty, And many a ciuill Monster
Othe. Did he confesse it? Iago. Good Sir, be a man: Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue, That nightly lye in those vnproper beds, Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better. Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch; And to suppose her chast. No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe
Oth. Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine
Iago. Stand you a while apart, Confine your selfe but in a patient List, Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe (A passion most resulting such a man) Cassio came hither: I shifted him away, And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie, Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me, The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe, And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes That dwell in euery Region of his face. For I will make him tell the Tale anew; Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath, and is againe to cope your wife. I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience, Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene, And nothing of a man
Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago, I will be found most cunning in my Patience: But (do'st thou heare) most bloody
Iago. That's not amisse, But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw? Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A Huswife that by selling her desires Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one) He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes. Enter Cassio.
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad: And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant? Cas. The worser, that you giue me the addition, Whose want euen killes me
Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't: Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre, How quickely should you speed? Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe
Oth. Looke how he laughes already
Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so
Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me
Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out
Iago. Do you heare Cassio? Oth. Now he importunes him To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said
Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her. Do you intend it? Cas. Ha, ha, ha
Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph? Cas. I marry. What? A customer; prythee beare Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha
Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes
Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her
Cas. Prythee say true
Iago. I am a very Villaine else
Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well
Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out: She is perswaded I will marry her Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise
Oth. Iago becomes me: now he begins the story
Cassio. She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery place. I was the other day talking on the Seabanke with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck
Oth. Crying oh deere Cassio, as it were: his iesture imports it
Cassio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me: So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha
Oth. Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber: oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dogge, I shall throw it to
Cassio. Well, I must leaue her companie
Iago. Before me: looke where she comes. Enter Bianca.
Cas. 'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one? What do you meane by this haunting of me? Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there. This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke? There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had it, Ile take out no worke on't
Cassio. How now, my sweete Bianca? How now? How now? Othe. By Heauen, that should be my Handkerchiefe
Bian. If you'le come to supper to night you may, if you will not come when you are next prepar'd for.
Exit
Iago. After her: after her
Cas. I must, shee'l rayle in the streets else
Iago. Will you sup there? Cassio. Yes, I intend so
Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very faine speake with you
Cas. Prythee come: will you? Iago. Go too; say no more
Oth. How shall I murther him, Iago
Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice? Oth. Oh, Iago
Iago. And did you see the Handkerchiefe? Oth. Was that mine? Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him and, he hath giu'n it his whore
Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing: A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman? Iago. Nay, you must forget that
Othello. I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an Emperours side, and command him Taskes
Iago. Nay, that's not your way
Othe. Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate with her Needle: an admirable Musitian. Oh she will sing the Sauagenesse out of a Beare: of so high and plenteous wit, and inuention? Iago. She's the worse for all this
Othe. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times: And then of so gentle a condition? Iago. I too gentle
Othe. Nay that's certaine: But yet the pitty of it, Iago: oh Iago, the pitty of it Iago
Iago. If you are so fond ouer her iniquitie: giue her pattent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere no body
Oth. I will chop her into Messes: Cuckold me? Iago. Oh, 'tis foule in her
Oth. With mine Officer? Iago. That's fouler