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My lord ?

Des. What, is he angry?
Lod.

'May be, the letter mov'd him; For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government.

Des. By my troth, I am glad on 't.
Oth.

Indeed ?
Des.
Oth. I am glad to see you mad.
Des.

How, sweet Othello ?
Oth. Devil !

[Striking her. Des. I have not deserv'd this. Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in

Venice,
Though I should swear I saw it: 'Tis very much;
Make her amends, she weeps.
Oth,

O devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile :-
Out of my sight!
Des.
I will not stay to offend you.

[Going Lod. Truly, an obedient lady:I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

Oth. Mistress,
Des.

My lord ?
Oth.

What would you with her, sir? Lod. Who, I, my lord ? Oth. Ay; you did wish, that I would make her

turn : Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, And turn again ; and she can weep, sir, weep; And she's obedient, as you say, - obedient, Very obedient;— Proceed you in your tears. Concerning this, sir, - well-painted passion ! I am commanded home: Get you away; I'll send for you anon. — Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice; Hence, avaunt !

[Exit DESDEMONA. Cassio shall have my place. And, -sir, to-night,

censure.

I do entreat that we may sup together. You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. — Goats, and monkies!

[Exit. Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call — all-in-all sufficient ? — This the noble nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze, nor pierce ? Iago.

He is much chang'd. Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain ?

Iago. He is that he is; I may not breathe my What he might be,- if, what he might, he is not, I would to heaven, he were. Lod.

What, strike his wife ! Iago. Faith, that was not so well; Yet 'would I

knew, That stroke would prove the worst. Lod.

Is it his use? Or did the letters work upon his blood, And new-create this fault? Iago.

Alas, alas ! It is not honesty in me, to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe

him ;

And his own courses will denote him so,
That I may save my speech : Do but go after,
And mark how he continues.
Lod. I am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him.

[Exeunt

SCENE II.

A Room in the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO and EMILIĄ.

Oth. You have seen nothing then ?
Emil. Nor ever heard; nor ever did suspect.

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Oth. Yes you have seen Cassio and she together.

Emil. But then I saw no harm: and then I heard
Each syllable, that breath made up between them.

Oth. What, did they never whisper?
Emil.

Never, my lord.
Oth. Nor send you out o’the way:

?
Emil.

Never.
Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor

nothing?
Emil. Never, my lord.'
Oth.

That's strange.
Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul 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 serpent's curse!
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
Is foul as slander,
Oth.
Bid her come hither: go.

[Exit EMILIA,
She says enough :- yet she's a simple drab
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle pimp
A closet-lock-and-key of villainous secrets.

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Re-enter EMILIA, with DESDEMONA.
Des. My lord, what is your

will ?
Oth.

Pray, chuck, come hither.
Des. What is your pleasure ?
Oth.

Let me see your eyes ;
Look in

my

face.
Des.

What horrible fancy's this?
Oth. Some of your function, mistress;

[T. EMILIA.
Leave us alone, and shut the door;
Cough, or cry – hem, if any body come:
Your mystery, your mystery ; - nay, despatch.

[Exit EMILIA.

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech

import?
I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words.

Oth. Why, what art thou ?
Des.

Your wife, my lord; your true
And loyal wife.
Oth.

Come, swear it, damn thyself;
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
Should fear to seize thee :
Swear thou art honest.
Des.

Heaven doth truly know it.
Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as

hell.
Des. To whom, my lord ? with whom? How am

I false?
Oth. O Desdemona! -away! away! away!

Des. Alas, the heavy day! — Why do you weep?
Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord ?
If, haply, you my father do suspect,
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.
Õth.

Had it pleas'd heaven
To try me with affliction ; had he rain'd
All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I should have found in some part of

my

soul
A drop of patience: but (alas !) to make me
A fixed figure, for the time of scorn
To point his slow and moving finger at, -

O! O!
Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'dó up my

heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current rups,

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Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
Turn thy complexion there !
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!

Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. O, ay: as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,
That th sense aches at thee.—'Would thou had'st

ne'er been born! Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ? Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write whore upon! What committed ! Committed ! - O thou publick commoner! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed! The very wind, that kisses all it meets, Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear it : What committed ! Impudent strumpet ! Des.

By heaven, you do me wrong. Oth. Are not you a strumpet ? Des.

No, as I am a Christian : If to preserve this vessel for my lord, From

any

other foul unlawful touch,
Be, - not to be a strumpet, I am none.

Oth. What, not a whore?
Des.

No, as I shall be saved.
Oth. Is it possible ?
Des. O, heaven forgive us !
Oth,

I cry you mercy, then; I took you for that cunning whore of Venice, That married with Othello, - You, mistress,

Re-enter EMILIA.

That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell ; You! you ! ay, you:

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