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Iago. Nay, you must forget that.

Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night; for she shall not live: No, my heart is turned to stone ; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.' 0, the world hath not a sweeter creature : she might lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks.

lago. Nay, that's not your way.

Oth. Hang her ! I do but say what she is :--So delicate with her needle !--An admirable musician! O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear !-Of so high and plenteous wit and invention !

lago. She's the worse for all this.

Oth. O, a thousand, a thousand times :- And then, of so gentle a condition !!

lago. Ay, too gentle.

Oth. Nay, that's certain : But yet the pity of it, Iago !-0, Iago, the pity of it, Iago !

Tago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend ; for, if it touch not you,

it comes near nobody:

Oth. I will chop her into messes : Cuckold me!
Iago. O, 'tis foul in her.
Oth. With mine officer !
Iago. That's fouler.

Oth. Get me some poison, Iago ; this night I'll not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again :--this night, Iago.

Iago. Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.

Oth. Good, good : the justice of it pleases; very good.

9 No, my heart is turned to stone; strike it, and it hurts my hand.] This thought, as often as it occurs to Shakspeare, is sure to be received, and as often counteracts his pathos.

And then, of so gentle a condition!] i. e, of so sweet a disposition.

1

Iago. And, for Cassio ---let me be his undertaker: You shall hear more by midnight.

[A Trumpet within. Oth. Excellent good. What trumpet is that

same? Iago. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lo.

dovico, Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him.

Enter Lodovico, DESDEMONA, and Attendants.
Lod. 'Save you, worthy general !
Oth.

With all my heart, sir. Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you.

[Gives him a Packet. Oth. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.

[Opens the Packet, and reads. Des. And what's the news, good cousin Lodo.

vico ?
lago. I am very glad to see you, signior ;
Welcome to Cyprus.

Lod. I thank you : How does lieutenant Cassio ?
Iago. Lives, sir.
Des. Cousin, there's fallen between him and my

lord
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.

Oth. Are you sure of that?
Des. My lord ?
Oth: This fail you not to do, as you will

[Reads. Lod. He did not call; he's busy in the paper. Is there division 'twixt thy lord and Cassio ?

Des. A most unhappy one ; I would do much
To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

Oth. Fire and brimstone!
Des.

My lord ?

atone them,] Make them one; reconcile them.

Oth.

Are
you

wise? Des. What, is he angry

? Lod.

May be, the letter mov'd him; For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government.

Des. By my troth, I am glad on't.
Oth.

Indeed?
Des.

My lord?
Oth. I am glad to see you mad.
Des.

How, sweet Othello? Oth. Devil !

[Striking her. Des.

I have not deserv'd this. Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in

Venice, Though I should swear I saw it: 'Tis very much; Make her amends, she weeps. Oth.

O deyil, deyil ! If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile :Out of my sight! Des. I will not stay to offend you.

[Going. Lod. Truly, an obedient lady :I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

Oth. Mistress,
Des.

My lord ?
Oth. What would

you with her, sir? Lod. Who, I, my lord ? Oth. Ay; you did wish, that I would make her

turn : Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,

s If that the earth could tecm, &c.] Shakspeare here alludes to the fabulous accounts of crocodiles. Each tear, says Othello, which falls from the false Desdemona, would generate a crocodile, the most deceitful of all animals, and whose own tears are proverbially fallacious.

* Each drop she falls-) To fall is here a verb active.

you in

And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
And she's obedient, as you say, -obedient,
Very obedient;--Proceed

your

tears.Concerning this, sir,- well-painted passion! I am cominanded home :-Get you away; I'll send for you anon.-Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice ;-Hence, avaunt !

[Exit DesDEMONA. Cassio'shall have my place. And,-sir, to-night, I do entreat that we may sup together. You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.—Goats and monkies !

[Exit. Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call-all-in-all sufficient? - This the noble nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze, nor pierce ? Iago.

He is much chang’d. Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain? lago. He is that he is; I may not breathe my

censure. What he might be,-if, what he might, he is not, I would to heaven, he were. Lod.

What, strike his wife! Iago. 'Faith, that was not so well; Yet, 'would I

knew, That stroke would

prove

the worst. Lod.

Is it his use? Or did the letters work upon his blood, And new-create this fault? Iago.

Alas, alas ! It is not honesty in me, to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe him; And his own courses will denote him so, That I may save my speech: Do but go after, And mark how he continues. Lod. I am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA.

Oth. You have seen nothing then?
Emil. Nor ever heard; nor ever did suspect.
Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.

Emil. But then I saw no harm; and then I heard Each syllable, that breath made

up

between them. Oth. What, did they never whisper? Emil.

Never, my lord. Oth. Nor send you out o'the way? Emil.

Never. Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor

nothing? Emil. Never, my lord. Oth.

That's strange. Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other, Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. If any

wretch hath put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There's no man happy; the purest of their wives Is foul as slander. Oth. Bid her come hither:-go.

[Exit EMILIA. She says enough;-yet she's a simple bawd, That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, A closet-lock-and-key of villainous secrets: And yet she'll kneel, and pray; I have seen her do't.

Re-enter EMILIA, with DESDEMONA. Des. My lord, what is

your

will ?

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