Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt Des. Is it possible? Oth. 'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it: A sybil, that had number'd in the world The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk; Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. Des. Indeed! 'is't true? Oth. Most veritable; therefore look to't well. seen it. Oth. Ha! wherefore? Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash ?1 Oth. Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out of the way? Des. Heaven bless us! Oth. Say you? Des. It is not lost; But what an if it were! Fetch't, let me see it. Des. Why, so I can, sir; but I will not now: This is a trick, to put me from my suit; I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again. Oth. Fetch me that handkerchief: my mind misgives. Des. Come, come; You'll never meet a more sufficient man. Oth. The handkerchief, Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio. (1) Vehement, violent. Oth. The handkerchief,- A man that, all his time, Hath founded his good fortune on your love; Shar'd dangers with you; Emil. The handkerchief, [Exit Othello. Is not this man jealous? Des. I ne'er saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief: Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us. Look you! Cassio, and my husband. Enter Iago and Cassio. Iago. There is no other way; 'tis she must do't; And, lo, the happiness! go, and impórtune her. Des. How now? good Cassio? what's the news with you? Cas. Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you, Can ransom me into his love again, So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content, And shut myself up in some other course, To fortune's alms. Des. Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio, My advocation is not now in tune; My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him. Were he in favour, as in humour, alter'd. (1) In countenance. So help me, every spirit sanctified, lago. Is my lord angry? Emil. He went hence but now, And, certainly, in strange unquietness. Iago. Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, When it hath blown his ranks into the air; And, like the devil, from his very arm Puff'd his own brother;-And can he be angry? Something of moment, then: I will go meet him; There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. state. Des. I pr'ythee, do so. Something, sure, of [Exit lago. Either from Venice; or some unhatch'd practice, 2 Made démonstrable here in Cyprus to him,Hath puddled his clear spirit: and, in such cases, Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense Emil. Pray heaven, it be state-matters, as you think; And no conception, nor no jealous toy, Concerning you. Des. Alas, the day! I never gave him cause. Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; (1) Within the shot of his anger. (2) Treason. (3) The nuptial feast. They are not ever jealous for the cause, Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind! Emil. Lady, amen. Des. I will go seek him.-Cassio, walk hereabout: If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit, Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship. [Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. Enter Bianca. Bian. Save you, friend Cassio ! What make you from home? Cas. Pardon me, Bianca; I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd; But I shall, in a more continuate time, I Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, [Giving her Desdemona's handkerchief. Take me this work out.2 O, Cassio, whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend. Is it come to this? Well, well. Cas. Woman, go to! Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now, That this is from some mistress, some remembrance: (1) Time less interrupted. (2) The meaning is, not pick out the work, but copy this work in another handkerchief. Why, whose is it? No, in good troth, Bianca. I like the work well; ere it be demanded, And think it no addition, nor my wish, Bian. Cas. Not that I love you not. Why, I pray you? But that you do not love me. I pray you, bring me on the way a little; Cas. 'Tis but a little way, that I can bring you, - For I attend here: but I'll see you soon. Bian. 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanc'd. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.-The same. Enter Othello and Iago. Iago. Will you think so? Oth. Iago. To kiss in private? Oth. Think so, Iago? An unauthoriz'd kiss. What, Iago. Or to be naked with her friend abed, An hour, or more, not meaning any harm? Oth. Naked abed, Iago, and not mean harm? It is hypocrisy against the devil: The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven. Iago. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip: But if I give my wife a handkerchief, Oth. What then? |