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Othello's first Suspicion. Think, my lord! why, by heaven thou echo'it me As if there were some monster in thy thought Too hideous to be shewn. Thou dost mean something; I heard thee say but now, thou lik'ít not that. When Caffio left my wife. What didît not like? And when I told thee, he was of my counsel, Of my whole course of wooing; thou criedit, indeed? And didit contract and purse thy brow together ; As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit : if thou dost love me Shew me thy thought.

Iago. My lord, you know I love you.

Oth. I think thou dost : And for I know thou’rt full of love and honesty, And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'it them breath, Therefore, these stops of thine fright me the more : For such things in a false, difloyal knave, Are tricks of custom ; but in a man that's just, They're cold dilations working from the heart, That pafsion cannot rule.

Reputation. Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls ; (8) Who steals my purse steals trash, 'tis something, nothing;

'Twas

(8) Who, &c.] Mr. Theobald obseryes, Of riches, and other temporal poffeffions being uncertain, and often changing their masters, we meet with several passages in the classics, which might have given our author a hint for this sentiment. Nunc ager, &c.

Hor. Sat, 2. 1. 2.
That which was once Ofellus farm is gone,
Now callid Umbrina's, but 'tis no man's own;

None

'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.

SCÈNE VI. Othello's Soliloquy after having been

work'd up to Jealousy by Iago.
This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. (9) If I prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heart strings,
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I'm black,
And have not those foft parts of conversation,
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, the curse of marriage!
That we can call these 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 uses.

SCENE

None hath the property : it comes and goes,
As merry chance or stubborn fates dispose :
As gods think fit, and their firm nods decree,
Now to be us’d by others, then by me.

Creech.
This Lucian feems to have imitated in an epigram:

ΑγρΘ- Αχαιμενιδε, &c.
I once was Achæmenides his land,

And now Menippus claims me for his own,
Thus pass I still from one to t’others hand;

Nor this nor that man's; I belong to none,

But change as fortune pleases to command. (9) If, &c.] All the metaphor here is taken from falconry, and inost beautifully kept up.

Scene VII. Jealousy.

Trifles light as air, Are to the jealous, confirmations strong, As proofs of holy writ.

SCENE VIII. The Tortures of Jealousy.

Enter Othello.

lago. Look, where he comes! not poppy, nor man

dragora,
Nor all the drowsy fyrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine ihee to that sweet sleep,
Which thou ow'dst yesterday.

Oth, Ha! false to me!
lago. Why, how now, general, no more of that.

Otb. Avant, be gone, thou hast set me on the wreck;
I swear 'tis better to be much abused,
Than but to know a little.

lago. How, my lord ?

Oth. What sense had I of her stol'n hours of luft?
I saw't not, thought it not, it harin'd not me:
I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and

merry,
I found not Cofio's kifles on her lips ;
He that is robb’d, not wanting what is ftol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.

Ingo. I am sorry to hear this.

Oih. I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. Oh now,
Farewel the tranquil mind. Farewel content ;
Farewel the plumed troops, and the big war,
That make ambition virtue! Oh farewel,
Farewel the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th'ear piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,

for ever

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Pride, pomp

and circumstance of glorious war
And you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th’immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's occupation's gone.

lago. Is't possible, my lord ?

Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it: give me the ocular proof,

[Catching hold on him.
Or by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadît better have been born a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.

Iago. Is't come to this ?

Oih. Make me to see't, or, at the least, fo prove it,
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
To hang a doubt on: or woc upon thy life.

Iago. My noble lord.

Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horrors head, horrors accumulate,
Do deeds to make heav'n weep, all earth amaz’d;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.

Iago. O grace! O heav'n forgive me !
Are you a man? have you a soul? or sense ?
God be wi' you: take mine office. Owretched 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, fith 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 is 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

Poison or fire, or fuffocating streams,
I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied !

Scene X. Othello's Story of the Handkerchief.

That handkerchief
Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer, and cou'd almost read
The thoughts of people. She told her while she kept it,
'Twou'd make her amiable, subdue my

father
Entirely to her love: but if she lost it,
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye
Should hold her loathed, and his fpirits hunt
After new fancies. She dying, gave it me,
And bid me, when my state wou'd have me wiv'd,
To give it her. I did fo ; and take heed on't :
Make it a darling, like your precious eye;
To lose't or giv't away, were such perdition
As nothing else could match.

-There's magic in the web of it,
A Sibyl, that had number'd in the world
The fun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury few'd the work:
The worms were hallow'd that did breed the filk,
And it was dy'd in mummey which the skilful
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts.

Scene XIII. A Lover's Computation of Time.

What, keep a week away? seven days and nights? Eight-score eight hours ? and love's absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight-score times ? Oh weary reckoning!

ACT IV. SCENE I. Othello, before he falls into a Trance. Lie with her! lie on her! lie with her! that's fulsome : handkerchief-confessions-confeffions_hand

kerchiet

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