Imatges de pÓgina

If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
To the last article: my lord shall never rest;
I'll watch him tame, and talk bim out of patience;
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
I'll intermingle every thing he does
With Cassio's suit: Therefore be merry, Cassio;
For thy solicitor shall rather die,
Than give thy cause away.

Enter OTHELLO and Iago, at a distance.

Madam, here comes
My lord.

Cas. Madam, I'll take my leave.

Why, stay, And hear me speak.

Cas. Madam, not now; I am very ill at ease,
Unfit for mine own purposes.

Well, well,
Do your

[Exit Cassio. lago.

Ha! I like not that.
Oth. What dost thou say?
Iago. Nothing, my lord: or if-I know not what.
Oth. Was not that Cassio, parted from my wife?
Iago. Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think

That he would steal away so guilty-like,
Seeing you coming.

I do believe, 'twas he.
Des. How now, my lord ?

I have been talking with a suitor here,
A man that languishes in your displeasure.

Oth. Who is't, you mean?

Des. Why, your lieutenant Cassio. Good my lord,
If I have any grace, or power to move you,
His present reconciliation take;
For, if he be not one that truly loves you,
That errs in ignorance, and not in cunning,
I have no judgement in an honest face:
I pr’ythee, call him back.

Went he hence now?
Des. Ay, sooth; so humbled,
That he hath left part of his grief with me;
I suffer with him. Good love, call him back.

Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time.
Des. But shall’t be shortly?

The sooner, sweet, for you.
Dcs. Shall't be to-night at supper?

No, not to-night. Des. To-morrow dinner then?

I shall not dine at home; I meet the captains at the citadel. Des. Why then, to-morrow night; or tuesday

morn; Or tuesday noon, or night; or wednesday morn;I pray thee, name the time; but let it not Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason, (Save that, they say, the wars must make examples


Out of their best,) is not almost a fault
To incur a private check: When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul,
What you could ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
That came a wooing with you"; and many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do
To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,
Oth. Pr'ythee, no more: let him come when he

I will deny thee nothing.

Why, this is not a boon; 'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm; Or sue to you to do peculiar profit To your own person: Nay, when I have a suit, Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poize and difficulty, And fearful to be granted. Oth.

I will deny thee nothing:
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.

Des. Shall I deny you? no: Farewell, my lord.
Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona : I will come to thee

straight. Des. Emilia, come:-Be it as your fancies teach you; Whate'er you be, I am obedient.

[Exit, with Emilia. Oth. Excellent wretch 54 ! Perdition catch my soul,

But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again.

lago. My noble lord,

What dost thou say, Iago? Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my

lady, Know of your love?

Oth. He did, from first to last: Why dost thou ask?

Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought;
No further harm.

Why of thy thought, Iago?
Iago. I did not think, he had been acquainted with

her. Oth. O, yes; and went between us very oft. Iago. Indeed? Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed :--Discern'st thou aught

in that? Is he not honest? Iago.

Honest, my lord? Oth.

Ay, honest. Iago. My lord, for aught I now. Oth. What dost thou think? Iago.

Think, my lord ? Oth.

Think, my lord! By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown.-Thou dost mean some

thing: I heard thee say but now,-Thou lik'dst not that, When Cassio left my wife; What did'st not like?

And, when I told thee-he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed?
And did'st contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then had'st shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.

Jago. My lord, you know I love you.

I think, thou dost; And,- for I know thou art full of love and honesty, And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them

breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: For such things, in a false disloyal knave, Are tricks of custom; but, in a man that's just, They are close denotements, working from the heart, That passion cannot rule. Iago.

For Michael Cassio, -
I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest.

Oth. I think so too.

Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, 'would they might seem none !

Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.

Why then, I think that Cassio is an honest man.

Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this: I pray thee, 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,

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