I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison:
Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons,
Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
But, with a little act upon the blood,

Burn like the mines of sulphur.-I did say so:-
Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,

Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow'dst yesterday.

Oth.

Re-enter OTHELLO.

Ha ha! false to me?

Iago. Why, how now, general! no more of that.

Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack :— I swear 'tis better to be much abus'd

Than but to know't a little.

Iago.

How now, my lord!

Oth. What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?
I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:

He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.
Iago. I am sorry to hear this.

Oth. I had been happy if the general camp,
Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever
Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

Iago. Is't possible, my lord?—

Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,—
[Taking him by the throat.

Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,

Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my wak'd wrath!

Iago.

Is't come to this?

Oth. Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it That the probation bear no hinge nor loop

To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!

Iago. My noble lord,

Oth. If thou dost slander her and torture me, Never pray more; abandon all remorse;

On horror's head horrors accumulate;

Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.

lago.

O grace! O heaven forgive me! Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?— God b' wi' you; take mine office.-O wretched fool, That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!

O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe.

I thank you for this profit; and from hence

I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.
Oth. Nay, stay:-thou shouldst be honest.
Iago. I should be wise; for honesty's a fool,
And loses that it works for.

Oth.

By the world,

I think my wife be honest, and think she is not;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not:
I'll have some proof: her name, that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
As mine own face.-If there be cords or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,

I'll not endure't.-Would I were satisfied!

Iago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion: I do repent me that I put it to you.

You would be satisfied?

Oth.

Would! nay, I will.

Iago. And may: but how? how satisfied, my lord? Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on,

Behold her tupp'd?

Oth.

Death and damnation! O!

Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think,

To bring them to that prospect: damn them, then,

If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster

More than their own! What then? how then?
What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?

It is impossible you should see this,

Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
If imputation and strong circumstances,-
Which lead directly to the door of truth,-
Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.
Oth. Give me a living reason she's disloyal.
Iago. I do not like the office:

But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,-
Prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love,-
I will go on.
I lay with Cassio lately;
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep.

There are a kind of men so loose of soul
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
One of this kind is Cassio:

In sleep I heard him say, Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;

And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
Cry, O sweet creature! and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots,
That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then
Cried, Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!
Oth. O monstrous! monstrous!
Iago.
Nay, this was but his dream.
Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion:
'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.
Iago. And this may help to thicken other proofs
That do demonstrate thinly.

Oth.
I'll tear her all to pieces.
Iago. Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done;
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,-
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?
Oth. I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.
Iago. I know not that: but such a handkerchief,-
I am sure it was your wife's,-did I to-day
See Cassio wipe his beard with.

Oth.

If it be that,-
Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers,

It speaks against her with the other proofs.
Oth. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives,—
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge!
Now do I see 'tis true.-Look here, Iago;

All

my fond love thus do I blow to heaven: VOL. VI.

2 B

"Tis gone.

Arise, black vengeance, from the hollow hell!
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
For 'tis of aspics' tongues!

Iago. Yet be content.

Oth.

O, blood, Iago, blood!

Iago. Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change.

Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic sea,

Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontic and the Hellespont;

Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
Till that a capable and wide revenge

Swallow them up.-Now, by yond marble heaven,
In the due reverence of a sacred vow

I here engage my words.

Iago.
Do not rise yet.-
Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
You elements that clip us round about,-
Witness that here Iago doth give up
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,

To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,

What bloody business ever.

Oth.

I greet thy love,

[Kneels.

[Kneels.

Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,

And will upon the instant put thee to't:

Within these three days let me hear thee say

That Cassio's not alive.

Iago. My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:
But let her live.

Oth.
Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!
Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw
To furnish me with some swift means of death
For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.
Iago. I am your own for ever.

SCENE IV.-CYPRUS. Before the Castle.

Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown.

[Exeunt.

Des. Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies? Clo. I dare not say he lies anywhere.

Des. Why, man?

Clo. He's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies is stabbing.

Des. Go to: where lodges he?

Clo. To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie. Des. Can anything be made of this?

Clo. I know not where he lodges; and for me to devise a lodging, and say he lies here or he lies there were to lie in mine own throat.

Des. Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report? Clo. I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions, and by them answer.

Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well. Clo. To do this is within the compass of man's wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing it. [Exit. Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? Emil. I know not, madam.

Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor

Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness

As jealous creatures are, it were enough

To put him to ill thinking.

Emil.

Is he not jealous?

Des. Who, he? I think the sun where he was born Drew all such humours from him.

Emil.

Look, where he comes.

Des. I will not leave him now till Cassio Be call'd to him.

Enter OTHELLO.

How is't with you, my lord?

Oth. Well, my good lady. -[Aside.] O, hardness to dissemble!

How do you, Desdemona?

Des. Well, my good lord.

Oth. Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.
Des. It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.
Oth. This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:—
Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
Much castigation, exercise devout;

For here's a young and sweating devil here
That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
A frank one.

Des.

You may indeed say so;

For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.