Imatges de pàgina
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Fago. Indeed!

Oth. Indeed! Ay, indeed. Difcern'ft thou ought of that? Is he not honeft ?.

Fago. Honeft, my Lord?

Oth. Honeft? Ay, Honeft.

Jago. My Lord, for ought I know.
Oth. What doft thou think?

Jago. Think, my Lord !---

Oth. Think, my Lord! Alas, thou eccho'ft me;
'As if there were fome Monster in thy thought
Too hideous to be fhewn. Thou doft mean fomething:
I heard thee fay even now, thou lik'ft not that.
When Caffio left my Wife. What did'ft not like ?
And when I told thee, he was of my Counsel,
Of my whole courfe of wooing; thou cried'ft, indeed?
And didft contract and purfe thy Brow together,
As if thou then hadft fhut up in thy Brain
Some horrible Conceit: If thou doft love me
Shew me thy thought.

Jago. My Lord, you know I love you.
Oth. I think thou doft:

And for I know thou'rt full of Love and Honefty,
And weigh'ft thy Words before thou giv'ft them Breath,
Therefore these ftops of thine fright me the more:
For fuch things, in a falfe difloyal Knave,

Are tricks of Custom; but in a Man that's just,
They're cold Dilations working from the Heart,
That Paffion cannot rule.

Jago. For Michael Caffio,

I dare be fworn, I think, that he is honeft.
Oth. I think fo too.

Jago. Men fhould be what they feem,

Or thofe that be not, would they might feem none:
Oth. Certain, Men fhould be what they feem.
Jago. Why, then I think Caffio's an honeft Man.
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this.

I pray thee fpeak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou doft ruminate, and givethy worst of thoughts,
The worft of Words.

Fago.

Jago. Good, my Lord, pardon me. Though I am bound to every A& of Duty,

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I am not bound to that, all Slaves are free to ;
Utter my Thoughts! Why fay they are vild and falfe?
As, where's that Palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? Who has that Breast so pure,
But fome uncleanly apprehenfions

Keep Leets, and Law-days, and in Seffions fit
With Meditations lawful?

Oth. Thou doft confpire against thy Friend, Jago,
If thou but think'ft him wrong'd, and mak'st his Ear
A Stranger to thy thoughts.

Jago. I do befeech you,

Though I perchance am vicious in my Guess,
As I confefs it is my Nature's Plague
To fpie into abufes, and of my Jealoufie
Shapes Faults that are not, that your Wisdom,
From one that fo imperfectly Conceits,
Would take no Notice, nor build your felfa trouble
Out of his fcattering, and unfure Obfervance :
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my Manhood, Honefty and Wisdom,
To let you know my Thoughts..

Oth. What doft thou mean?

Jago. Good Name in Man and Woman, dear my Lord;' Is the immediate Jewel of their Souls ;

Who fteals my Purfe fteals trafh, 'tis fomething, no thing;

'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. I'll know thy Thoughts

Jago. You cannot, if my Heart were in your Hand,

Nor fhall not, whilft 'tis in my Cuftody.

Oth. Ha!

Jago. Oh, beware, my Lord, of Jealoufie,
It is the green-ey'd Monfter, which doth mock
The Meat it feeds on. That Cuckold lives in Blifs,
Who, certain of his Fate, loves not his wronger;
But oh, what damned Minutes tells he o'er,

Who

Who dotes, yet doubts; fufpects, yet ftrongly loves!
Oth. O Mifery!

Jago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough;
But Riches finelefs, is as poor as Winter,

To him that ever fears he fhall be poor;

Good Heav'n! the Souls of all my Tribe defend
From Jealoufie.

Oth. Why? Why is this?

Think'ft thou I'd make a Life of Jealoufie?
To follow ftill the Changes of the Moon,
With fresh Sufpicions? No; to be once in doubt,
Is once to be refolv'd: Exchange me for a Goat,
When I fhall turn the Bufinefs of my Soul
To fuch exufflicate, and blown Surmises,
Matching thy inference: 'Tis not to make me Jealous,
To fay my Wife is Fair, feeds well, loves Company,
Is free of Speech, fings, plays, and dances well;
Where Virtue is, thefe are most virtuous.
Nor from mine own weak Merits, will I draw
The smallest Fear, or doubt of her Revolt,
For fhe had Eyes, and chofe me. No, Jago,
I'll fee before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And on the proof there is no more but this,
Away at once with Love, or Jealoufie.

Fago. I am glad of this; for now I fhall have reafon
To fhew the Love and Duty that I bear you
With franker Spirit. Therefore, as I am bound,
Receive it from me. I fpeak not yet of Proof:
Look to your Wife, obferve her well with Caffio,
Wear your Eyes, thus; not Jealous, nor Secure;
I would not have your free, and noble Nature,
Out of Self-bounty be abus'd; look to't.

I know our Country difpofition well;

In Venice, they do let Heav'n fee the Pranks

They dare not fhew their Husbands, their best Confcience, Is not to leave't undone, but kept unknown.

Oth. Doft thou fay fo?

Jage. She did deceive her Father, marrying you,

And when the feem'd to fhake, and fear your looks,
She lov'd them moft.

Oth.

Oth. And fo she did,

Jago. Why, go to then;

She that fo young could give out fuch a feeming

To feal her Father's Eyes up, close as Oak----
He thought 'twas Witchcraft--

But I am much to blame :

I humbly do befeech you of your pardon
For too much loving you.

Oth. I am bound to thee for ever.

Jago. I fee this hath a little dash'd your Spirits.
Oth. Not a jot, not à jot.

Jago. Truft me, I fear it has:

I hope you will confider, what is spoke
Comes from my Love. But I do fee you're mov'd---
I am to pray you, not to train my Speech
To groffer Iflues, nor to larger Reach,

Than to Sufpicion.

Oth. I will not.

Jago. Should you do fo, my Lord,

My Speech fhould fall into fuch vild Succefs,

Which my Thoughts aim'd not at. Caffio's my worthy Friend: My Lord, I fee you're mov'd---

Oth. No, not much mov'd

I do not think but Defdemona's honeft.

Jago. Long live the fo; and long live you to think fo.
Oth. And yet how Nature erring from it felf----

Jago. Ay, there's the point; as, to be bold with you ; Not to affect many propofed Matches

Of her own Clime, Complexion and Degree,
Whereto we fee in all things, Nature tends:
Foh! one may smell in fuch, a Will most rank,
Foul Difproportions, Thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in Pofition
Diftinely fpeak of her, tho' I may fear
Her Will, recoiling to her better Judgment,
May fall to match you with her Country Forms,
And happily repént.

Oth. Farewel, farewel;

If more thou doft perceive, let me know more :
Set on thy Wife to obferve. Leave me, Jago.

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Jago.

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Jago. My Lord, I take my leave.

Oth. Why did I marry?

This honeft Creature, doubtlefs,

Sees, and knows more, much more than he unfolds.
Jago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your
To fcan this thing no farther; leave it to time:
Altho' 'tis fit that Caffio have his Place,
For fure he fills it up with great Ability,
Yet if you please to put him off a while,
You shall by that perceive him, and his means;
Note, if your Lady strain his Entertainment
With any ftrong, or vehement importunity,
Much will be feen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too bufie in my fears,
As worthy cause I have to fear I am,
And hold her free, I do befeech your Honour.
Oth. Fear not my Government.
Jago. I once more take my leave.

Oth. This Fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all Quantities, with a learn'd Spirit,
Of human dealings. If I do prove her Haggard,
Tho' that her Jeffes were my dear Heart-ftrings,
I'd whiftle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am black,
And have not those foft parts of Converfation,
That Chamberers have; or for I am declin'd
Into the vale of Years, yet that's not much-....
She's gone, I am abus'd, and my relief

Must be to loath her. Oh Curfe of Marriage!
That we can call thefe delicate Creatures ours,
And not their Appetites! I had rather be a Toad,
And live upon the Vapour of a Dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love,
For others ufes. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones,
Prerogativ'd are they lefs than the Bafe,

'Tis deftiny unfhunable like Death;

Even then, this forked plague is fated to us,
When we do quicken. Look where the comes!
Enter Defdemona and Emilia.

If the be falfe, O then Heav'n mocks it felf;

[Going.

Honour

[Exit.

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