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The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither graze, nor pierce?

lago. He is much chang'd.

Lod. Are his wits fafe? is he not light of brain?
lago. He's what he is; I may not breathe my cen-

What he might be, if what he might he is not,
I would to heaven, he were !

Lod. What, strike his wife!

lage. 'Faith, that was not fo well; yet 'would I knew, That ftroke would prove the worst.

Lod. Is it his use?

Or did the letters work upon
And new-create this fault?
Iago. Alas, alas!

It is not honefty in me to speak

What I have seen and known. You shall obferve him, And his own courfes will denote him fo,

his blood,

That I may fave my fpeech. Do but go after,
And mark how he continues.

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


Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Othello and Emilia.

Oth. You have seen nothing then? Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did fufpect. 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?

Emil. Never.


Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? Emil. Never, my Lord.


Oth. That's ftrange!

Emil. I durft, my Lord, to wager fhe is honeft,
Lay down my foul at stake: if you think other,
Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch hath put this in your head,
Let heaven requite it with the ferpent's curfe!
For if the be not honest, chaste 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 fays enough; yet fhe's a fimple bawd,
That cannot fay as much. This is a fubtle whore,
A clofet lock and key of villainous fecrets;
And yet fhe'll kneel, and pray. I've feen her do't.


Enter Defdemona and Æmilia.

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. [To Emilia.] Some of your function, miftrefs; Leave procreants alone, and fhut the door, Cough, or cry, bem, if any body come. Your mystery, your mystery. -Nay, dispatch.

[Exit Emilia.

Def. Upon my knee, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words,

(5) But not your words.

Oth. Why? what art thou?

Def. Your wife, my Lord; your true and loyal wife. Oth. Come, fwear it; damn thyfelf; left, being

like one

Of heaven, the devils themselves fhould fear to seize thee. Therefore be double-damn'd; fwear, thou art honeft. Def. Heaven doth truly know it.

(5) But not your words.] This line is added out of the first edition.


Oth. Heaven truly knows, That thou art falfe as hell.

Def. To whom, my Lord? With whom? How am I falfe?

Oth. Ah, Desdemona! away, away, away-
Def. Alas, the heavy day! why do you weep?
Am I the motive of thele tears, my Lord?
If, haply, you my father do fufpect
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 heavens

To try me with affliction, had they rain'd
All kind of fores and fhames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
Giv❜n to captivity me and my utmost 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 scorn
To point his flow unmoving finger at.
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well.
But there, where I have (6) 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 discarded thence;
Or keep it as a ciftern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in- (7) Turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rofe-lipp'd cherubin;
Ay, here, look grim as hell.

Def. I hope, my noble Lord efteems me honeft.
Oth. Oh, ay, as fummer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken ev'n with blowing. Oh thou weed!
Who art fo lovely fair, and fmell'ft so sweet,
That the fenfe akes at thee

Would, thou hadft ne'er been born!

(6) garner'd up my beart,] That is, treafured up; the garner and the fountain are improperly conjoined.

(7)~Turn thy complexion there, &c.] At fuch an object do thou, Patience, thyfelf change colour; at this do thou, even thou, refy cherub as thou art, look grim as bell. The old editions and the new have it,

I bere look grim as bell.

I was written for aye, and not fince corrected.


Def. Alas, what ignorant fin have I committed? Oth. Was this fair paper, this moft goodly book, Made to write whore upon? what, what committed? Committed? -oh, thou publick commoner ! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did but I fpeak thy deeds. What, what committed ? Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks 2 The bawdy wind, that kiffes all it meets,

Is hufh'd within, the hollow mine of earth,

And will not hear't. What committed? -Impudent; ftrumpet!


Def. By heaven you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a ftrumpet?
Def. No, as I am a chriftian.
If to preferve this Veffel for my
From any other, foul, unlawful, touch,
Be not to be a ftrumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a whore?
Def. No, as I shall be saved.
Oth. Is't poffible?

Def. Oh, heaven forgive us!
Oth. I cry you mercy, then.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello-


Enter Emilia.

You, mistress,

That have the office oppofite to St. Peter,
And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you!
We have done our courfe, there's mony for your pains;


pray you, turn the key, and keep our counfel. [Exit: Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady? Def. 'Faith, half afleep.

Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my Lord? Def. With whom?

Emil. Why, with my Lord, madam!

Def. Who is thy Lord?
Emil. He that is yours, fweet lady.


Def. I have none; do not talk to me, Emilia.
I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,
But what should go by water. Pray, to-night
Lay on my bed my wedding fheets-Remember ;-
And call thy husband hither.


Emil. Here's a change indeed!

Def. 'Tis meet I should be used fo, very meet. How have I been behav'd, that he might stick (8) The small'ft opinion on my least misuse?


Enter lago, and Æmilia.

lago. What is your pleasure, Madam? How is't with you?

Def. I cannot tell; thofe, that do teach young babes, Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks; He might have chid me fo, for in good faith, I am a child to chiding.

Iago. What's the matter, lady?

Emil. Alas, lago, my Lord hath fo bewhor'd her, Thrown fuch defpight and heavy terms upon her, That true hearts cannot bear it.


Def. Am I that name, lago? lago. What name, fair lady? Def. Such, as, fhe faid, my Lord did fay I was. Emil. He call'd her whore; a beggar in his drink, Could not have laid fuch terms upon his callet. lago. Why did he fo?

Def. I do not know; I'm fure, I am none fuch. Iago. Do not weep, do not weep; alas, the day! Emil. Hath the forfook fo many noble matches, Her father, and her country, and her friends, To be call'd whore? Would it not make one weep? Def. It is my wretched fortune.

Iago. Befhrew him for't! How comes this trick upon


Def. Nay, heaven doth know.

(8). The fmall'ft opinion on my least misuse ?] The old quarto reads, The fmall ft opinion on my great'st abuse.

Which I think is better,

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