TUSH, never tell me, I take it much unkindly,
That thou, lago,-who hast had my purse,
As if the strings were thine,-should'st know of this.
Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me :-
If ever I did dream of such a matter,

Abhor me.

Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.

Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,

In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Oft capp'd' to him;-and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance,2
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion, nonsuits

My mediators; for, certes, says he,
I have already chose my officer.
And what was he?

Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows

More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
Wherein the toged consuls can propose
As masterly as he mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
And I,-of whom his eyes had seen the proof,
At Rhodes, at Cyprus; and on other grounds
Christian and heathen,-must be be-lee'd and calm'd
By debitor, and creditor, this counter-caster:"
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,

(1) Saluted.

And I, (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's an cient.

Rod. By heaven I rather would have been his hangman.

Iago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of service;

Preferment goes by letter, and affection,

Not by the old gradation, where each second
Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge youself,
Whether I in any just term am affin'd
To love the Moor.

I

Rod.

I would not follow him then.
Iago. O, sir, content you;
follow him to serve my turn upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender; and, when he's old,
cashier'd;

Whip me such honest knaves: Others there are,
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And, throwing but shows of service or their lords,
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd

their coats,

Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;

And such a one do I profess myself.
For, sir,

It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
(6) Rulers of the state.

(5) Theory.

(7) It was anciently the practice to reckon up

(8) Related. |(9) Outward show of civility,

her!

[Exeunt. SCENE IL-The same. Another street. Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants.

Iago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men,

Yet do I hold it very stuff o'the conscience,
To do no contriv'd murder; I lack iniquity
Sometimes, to do me service: Nine or ten times

I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.
Oth. 'Tis better as it is.
Iugo.

Nay, but he prated, And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour,

That, with the little godliness I have,

I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray, sir,
Are you fast married? for, be sure of this,-
That the magnifico' is much beloved;
And hath, in his effect, a voice potential
As double as the duke's: he will divorce you;
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
The law (with all his might, to enforce it on,)
Will give him cable.

Oth.
Let him do his spite:
My services, which I have done the signiory,
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know
(Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
I shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege;2 and my demerits3
May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach'd: For know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhoused' free condition
Put into circumscription and confine
For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come
yonder?

Enter Cassio, at a distance, and certain Officers

with torches.

Iago. These are the raised father, and his friends: You were best go in. Oth. Not I: I must be found; My parts, my title, and my perfect soul, Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? lago. By Janus, I think no.

Oth. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. The goodness of the night upon you, friends! What is the news?

Cas. The duke does greet you, general; And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, Even on the instant. Oth. What is the matter, think you? Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine; It is a business of some heat; the galleys Have sent a dozen sequent messengers This very night at one another's heels;

And many of the consuls, rais'd, and met,

The senate hath sent about three several quests, To search you out.

I

Oth.

'Tis well I am found by you. will but spend a word here in the house, And go with you.

[Exit.

Cas. Ancient, what makes he here? lago. 'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land

carack;

If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. Cas. I do not understand.

Iago. Cas.

He's married.

To who?

Re-enter Othello.

my daughter?

Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her:
For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
Whether a maid-so tender, fair, and happy;
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,-
Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
Of such a thing as thou: to fear, not to delight.'
Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense,
That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms,
Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals,
That waken motion:-I'll have it disputed on;
'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
I therefore apprehend and do attach thee,
For an abuser of the world, a practiser
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant :-
Lay hold upon him; if he do resist,
Subdue him at his peril.

Oth.

Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining, and the rest: Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.-Where will you that I go To answer this your charge? To prison': till fit time Of law, and course of direct session, Call thee to answer.

Bra.

Oth.
What if I do obey?
How may the duke be therewith satisfied;
Whose messengers are here about my side,
Upon some present business of the state,
To bring me to him?
Off.

'Tis true, most worthy signior,

That will confess-perfection so could err
Against all rules of nature; and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning hell,
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again,
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjur'd to this effect,
He wrought upon her."

Duke.
To vouch this, is no proof;
Without more certain and more overt test,
Than these thin habits, and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming,2 do prefer against him.
1 Sen. But, Othello, speak;-

Did you by indirect and forced courses
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?

Oth.
I do beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittary,3

And let her speak of me before her father:
If you do find me foul in her report,
The trust, the office, I do hold of you,

Not only take away, but let your sentence
Even fall upon my life.

Duke.

Fetch Desdemona hither. Oth. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the place.- [Exeunt lago and Attendants.

And, till she come, as truly as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And she in mine.

Duke. Say it, Othello.

Oth. Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,

From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.

I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field;

Of hair-breadth 'scapes i'the imminent deadly breach;

Of being taken by the insolent foe,

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And portance in my travel's history:
Wherein of antres' vast, and deserts idle,
Regh quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch
heaven,

It was my hint to speak, such was the process;
And of the cannibals that each other eat,

The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads

'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:

She wish'd, she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me;

And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake:
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd;
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd;
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.

My noble father,

I do perceive here a divided duty:
To you, I am bound for life, and education;
My life, and education, both do learn me
How to respect you; you are the lord of duty,
I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my hus
band:

And so much duty as my mother show'd
To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.

Bra.
God be with you!-I have done:-
Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs;
I had rather to adopt a'child, than get it.-
Come hither, Moor:

here do give thee that with all my heart, Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart I would keep from thee-For your sake, jewel, I am glad at soul I have no other child; For thy escape would teach me tyranny, To hang clogs on them.-I have done, my lord. Duke. Let me speak like yourself; and lay a sentence,

Which, as a grise, or step, may help these lovers Into your favour.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,

hear,

Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house-affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: Which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour; and found good means,
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively; I did consent;
And often did beguile her tears,

When I did speak of some distressful stroke,
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
She swore In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing
strange;

To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserv'd, when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.

The robb'd, that smiles, steals something from the thief;

He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.
Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
We lose not, so long as we can smile.
He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
But the free comfort which from thence he hears:
But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow,
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,
Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:
But words are words; I never yet did hear,
That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear."

(7) Intention and attention were once synonymous. (8) Grise from degrees.

(9) i. e. That the wounds of sorrow were ever cured by the words of consolation.