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.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO and EMELIA.

Oth. You have seen nothing then?

[Exeunt.

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.

Oth. Nor send you out o'the way?
Emil.

Never, my lord.

Never.

Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor no

thing?

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.

[TO EMILIA.

Des.
What horrible fancy's this?
Oth. Some of your function, mistress;
Leave procreants alone, and shut the door;
Cough, or cry-hem, if any body come:
Your mystery, your mystery; nay, despatch.

[Exit EMILIA.

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words,

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double-damn'd, Swear-thou art honest.

Des.

Heaven doth truly know it.

Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as hell. Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? How am I false?

Oth. O Desdemona!-away! away! away!

Des. Alas, the heavy day!-Why do you weep?
Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord?

If, haply, you my father do suspect,
An instrument of this your calling back,

Lay not

your blame on me;

if you

have lost him,

Why, I have lost him too.

Oth.

Had it pleas'd heaven

To try me with affliction; had he rain'd

All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;

Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience: but (alas!) to make me
A fixed figure, for the time of scorn

To point his slow unmoving finger at‚a—
O! O!

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'd' up my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!

Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in!-turn thy complexion there!
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!

Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. O thou black weed,d
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,

That the sense aches at thee.-'Would, thou had'st ne'er been born!

a

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,

- for the time of scorn

To point his slow unmoving finger at,-] I should prefer adopting the emendation of Rowe and M. Mason, and reading,

-for the hand of scorn

To point his slowly moving finger at,—

if such a departure from the old copies were allowable. In explanation of the present reading it can only be said, as Malone has suggested, "that in the clocks of the last age, there was in the middle of the dial plate a figure of time, which was probably in our poet's thoughts when he wrote this pas sage: and that by unmoving he meant by poetic license not appearing to move. garner'd up-] That is, treasured up.

b

с

turn thy complexion there! &c.] At such an object do thou, patience, thyself change colour; at this do thou, even thou, rosy cherub as thou art, look as grim as hell.-JOHNSON.

d

black weed,] The insertion of the epithet black, i. e. noxious, is necessary to the metre, and is taken from the quarto of 1622.

Made to write whore upon? What committed!
Committed!-0 thou publick commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds.-What committed!
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks ;
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,

Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it: What committed!
Impudent strumpet!

Des.

By heaven, you do me wrong.

Oth. Are you not a strumpet?
Des.

No, as I am a Christian :

If to preserve this vessel for my lord,
From any other foul unlawful touch,
Be-not to be a strumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a whore?
Des.

Oth. Is it possible?

Des. O, heaven forgive us!

Oth.

No, as I shall be saved.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.-You, mistress,

Re-enter EMILIA.

That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you!
We have done our course; there's money for your pains;
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.

[Exit.

Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?—

How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
Des. 'Faith, half asleep.

Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?
Des. With who?

Emil.

Why, with my lord, madam.

Des. Who is thy lord?

Emil.

He that is yours, sweet lady,

Des. I have none: Do not talk to me, Emilia;

I cannot weep; nor answer I have none,

But what should go by water. Pr'ythee, to-night

Lay on my bed my wedding sheets,-remember ;-
And call thy husband hither.
Emil.

Here is a change, indeed.

Des. 'Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet. How have I been behav'd, that he might stick The small'st opinion on my great'st abuse?

Re-enter EMILIA, with IAGO.

[Exit.

Iago. What is your pleasure, madam? How is it with you?

Des. I cannot tell. Those, that do teach young babes, Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks:

He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,

I am a child to chiding.

Iago.

What's the matter, lady?

Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,

As true hearts cannot bear.

Des. Am I that name, Iago?

Iago.
What name, fair lady?
Des. Such as, she says, my lord did say I was.
Emil. He call'd her, whore; a beggar, in his drink,
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.*
Iago. Why did he so?

Des. I do not know; I am sure, I am none such.
Iago. Do not weep, do not weep; Alas, the day!
Emil. Has she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father, and her country, and her friends,
To be call'd-whore? would it not make one weep?
Des. It is my wretched fortune.
Iago.

How comes this trick upon him?

Des.

Beshrew him for it!

Nay, heaven doth know.

Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Some bury and insinuating rogue,

Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devis'd this slander; I'll be hang'd, else.

callet.] i. e. A lewd woman; so called (says Dr. Grey) from the French calote, which was a sort of head-dress worn by country girls.-STEEVENS.