And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty, And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath, Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just 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 Cassio's an honest man. Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this: I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts 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 But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law-days, and in session (43) sit Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, Iago. From one that so imperfectly conceits, Would take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble It were not for your quiet nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, To let you know my thoughts. 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 Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts. Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody. Oth. Ha! O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock (45) Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet soundly (46) loves! 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 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 To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; Where virtue is, these are more virtuous: The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago; Iago. I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience 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. Iago. And so she did. 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 blame; I humbly do beseech you of your pardon For too much loving you. Oth. I am bound to thee for ever. Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. Iago. Trust me, I fear it has. I hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from my love;-but I do see you're 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 Which my thoughts aim'd not. Cassio's my worthy friend:My lord, I see you're 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 itself,— Iago. Ay, there's the point:-as,-to be bold with you,Not to affect many proposed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Oth. Farewell, farewell: If more thou dost perceive, let me know more; Iago. My lord, I take my leave. [Going. Oth. Why did I marry?—This honest creature doubtless Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. Iago. My lord, I would I might entreat your honour Oth. Fear not my government. - Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty, [Exit. Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard, Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones; 'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death: Des. Re-enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA. How now, my dear Othello! Your dinner, and the generous islanders By you invited, do attend your presence. Oth. I am to blame. Des. Are you not well? Why do you speak so faintly? Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here. Des. Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again: Let me but bind it hard, within this hour It will be well. Oth. Your napkin is too little; [He puts the handkerchief from him; and she drops it. Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. Des. I am very sorry that you are not well. [Exeunt Othello and Desdemona. Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin : This was her first remembrance from the Moor: |