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In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, In.
Oth. I think, thou dost: And,-for I know thou art full of love and honesty, And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath,
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:
Iago. For Michael Cassio,I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest.
Oth. I think so too.
Iago. Men should be what they seem; Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem none!
Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.
Iago. Why then, I think that Cassio is an honest man.
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this: I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of
The worst of words.
Iago. Good my lord, pardon me; Though I am bound to every act of duty,
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts * Why, say, they are vile and false, As where's that palace, whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure, But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets,” and law-days, and in session sit With meditations lawful ? Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts. Iago. I do beseech you, Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess, As, I confess, it is my nature's plague To spy into abuses; and, oft, my jealousy Shapes faults that are not, -I entreat you then, From one that so imperfecly conjects,” You'd take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance:— It were not for your quiet, nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, To let you know my thoughts. Oth. What dost thou mean? Iago. Good name, in man, and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he, that filches from me my good name,
* Courts of Enquiry. 3 Conjectures.
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thought.
Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
lago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock
Oth. O misery !
Iago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough; But riches, fineless,” is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor:— Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy.'
Oth. Why? why is this? Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in doubt, Is—once to be resolv'd: Exchange me for a goat, When I shall turn the business of my soul To such exsuffiicate and blown surmises, Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make mejealous, To say—my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:" Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
5 Endless, unbounded. 6 “Jožich makes fair gifts faire.”
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt;
Iago. I am glad of this, for now I shall have reason
Is—not to leave undone, but keep unknown.
Oth. Dost thou say so
Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying you; And, when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks, She lov'd them most.
Oth. - And so she did.
lago. Why, go to, then; She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,” To seel” her father's eyes up, close as oak,He thought, 'twas witchcraft:—But I am much to
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon,
- 7 Appearance. \ * An expression from falconry: to seel a hawk is to sew up his eye-lids.
For too much loving you, Oth. I am bound to thee for ever. Iago. I see, this hath a little dash'd your spirits. Oth. Not a jot, not a jot. Iago. Trust me, I fear it has. I hope, you will consider, what is spoke - Comes from my love;—But, I do see you are mov'd :— I am to pray you, not to strain my speech To grosser issues,” nor to larger reach, Than to suspicion. Oth. I will not. Iago. Should you do so, my lord, My speech should fall into such vile success As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend :— My lord, I see you are mov’d. Oth. No, not much mov’d:— I do not think but Desdemona's honest. Iago. Long live she so and long live you to think- so! Oth. And yet, how nature erring from itselfIago. Ay, there's the point:—As, to be bold with - you, Not to affect many proposed matches, Of her own clime, complexion, and degree; Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends: Foh one may smell, in such, a will most rank, Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural.— But pardon me; I do not, in position, Distinctly speak of her : though I may fear,