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.9 O, 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!1 Iago. Ay, too gentle. Oth. Nay, that's certain: But yet the pity of it, Iago!-O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago! Iago. 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! : 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. Óth. Good, good: the justice of it pleases; very good. 9 No, my heart is turned to stone; I 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. disposition. And then, of so gentle a condition!] i. e. of so sweet a 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 Lodovico, 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 ? Iago. 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. 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,2 for the love I bear to Cassio. Oth. Fire and brimstone! Des. My lord? 2 atone them,] Make them one; reconcile them. Qth. 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, Des. By my troth, I am glad on't. Oth. Des. Oth. I am glad to see you mad. Indeed? My lord? Oth. Devil! How, sweet Othello? [Striking her. I have not deserv'd this. Des. Des. 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. O devil, devil! Oth. Des. Lod. Truly, an obedient lady :-— I do beseech your lordship, call her back. 3 [Going. 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, If that the earth could teem, &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 pro◄ verbially fallacious. Each drop she falls-] To fall is here a verb active. in And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep; 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, 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! Oth. Bid her come hither:-go.- She says enough;-yet she's a simple bawd, 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? |