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Des. Why so I can, Sir, but I will not now :
This is a trick to put me from my Suit,
Pray you let Caffo be receiv'd again.
Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchief
my mind mir. gives
Def. Come, come; you'll never meet a more fufficient Man.
Oth. The Handkerchief
Des. A Man that all his time
Hath founded his good fortunes on your Love ;
Shar'd Dangers with you,
Oth. The Handkerchief
Des. Insooth, you are to blame.
[Exit Othello, Æmil. Is not this Man jealous ?
Def. I never saw this before.
Sure there's some wonder in this Handkerchief,
I am most unbappy in the loss of it.
Æmil. 'Tis not a Year or two shews us a Man:
They are all but Stomachs, and we all but Food,
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full
They belch us.
Enter Jago, and Callio.
Look you, Casio, and my Husband.
Jago. There is no other way, 'ris she must do't ;
And Io the happiness; go and importune her.
Def. How now, good Cassia, what's the News with
Caf. Madam, my former Suit. I do beleech 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;
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 fo, must be my Benefit ;
So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content,
in some other Course,
To Fortunes 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 my self I dạre. Let that suffice you.
Fago. Is my Lord angry?
Æmil. He went hence but now ;
And certainly in strange unquietness.
Jago. Can he be angry? I have seen the Canon,
When it hath blown his Ranks into the Air,
And like the Devil from his very Arm
Puft his own Brother; and is he angry
? Something of Moment then; I will go meet him, There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
Def. I prethee do so. Something sure of State,
Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd Practice,
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus, to him,
Hath pudled his clear Spirit ; and in such cases,
Mens Natures wrangle with inferior things,
Tho'great ones are their Obje&t. 'Tis even so.
For ler our finger ake, and it endues
Our other healthful Members, even to a Sense
Of pain. Nay, we must think Men are not Gods,
Nor of them look for such Observance always,
As fits the brida!. Beshrew me much, Æmilia,
I was, unhandsome Warrior as I am,
Arraigning his unkindness with my Soul ;
But now I find, I had suborn'd the Witness,
And he's indited falsely.
Amil. Pray Heav'n it be
S atc-matters, as you think, and no Conceprion,
Nor jealous Toy concerning you.
Def. Alas-the-day, I never gave him Cause.
Amil. But jealous Souls will not be answer'd lo;
They are not ever jealous for the Cause,
But jealous, for they're jealous. It is a Monster
Begot upon it self, born on it self.
Def. Heav'n keep the Monster from Othello's mind.
Amil. Lady, Amen.
Def. I will go seek him. Caffio, walk hereabout;
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,
And seek to effe& it to my uttermost.
[Exit. Caf. I humbly thank your Ladyship.
Bian. 'Save 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, Caffio.
What? keep a Week away? Seven days and nights?
Eightscore eight Hours? And Loves absent 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 continuate 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 fome Token from a newer Friend ;
To the felt-absence, now I feel a Cause :
Is't come to this? Well, well.
Caf. Go to, Woman ;
Throw your vild 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; e'er it be demanded,
As like enough it will, I would 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?
Car." '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.
SCENE A Room of State.
Enter Othello, and Jago.
Ill you think so ?
Jago. What, to kiss in private?
Oth. An unauthorized kiss?
Jago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed,
An Hour or more, not meaning any harm?
Oth. Naked in bed, Jago, and not mean harm?
It is Hypocrisie against the Devil :
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
The Devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt Heav'n.
Fago. If they do nothing, 'cis a venial sip :
But if I give my Wife a Handkerchief
Oth. What then?
Jago. Why then, 'tis hers, my Lord, and being hers, She may, I think, bestow't on any Man.
Oth. She is Prore&ress of her Honour too ;
May she give that ?
Fago. 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 faidft, Oh, it comes o'er my Memory,
As doth the Raven o'er the infe&ious House,
Boading to all, he had my Handkerchief.
Jago. Ay, what of that?
Oth. That's not so good now.
Jago. What if I had faid, I had 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 fome Mistress,
Convinced or supplied them, cannot chuse
But they must blab.
Oth. Hath he said any thing?
Jago. He hath my Lord, but be you wellacurd,
No more than he'll unswear.
Oth. What hath he said ?
Jago. Why, that he did ---- I know not what he did
Oth. What? what?
Oth. With her ?
Jago. With her ? on her what you will
Oth. Lye with her ! lye on her ! we say, lye on her, when they be-lye her. Lye with her ! that's fullom: Handkerchief Confessions Handkerchief ---- 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 her self in such shadowing Pallion, without some instru&i. on. It is not words that ih ake me thus pish Noses, Ears and Lips is't possible ! Confess! Handerchief! O Devil
[Falls in a Trances Jago. Work on, My Medicine works; thus credulous Fools are caught ; And many worthy, and chast Dames even thus, All guiltless meet reproach ; what hoa ! my Lord ! My Lord, I say, Othello.
How now, Caffio ?
Caf. What's the matter !
Jago. My Lord is faln into an Epilepsie,
This is the second Fit ; he had one Yesterday.
Caf. Rub him about the Temples.