Oth. Why? what art thou? Def. Your wife, my Lord; your true and loyal wife. Oth. Come, fwear it; damn thyfelf; left, being like one Of heaven, the devils themselves fhould fear to seize thee.... Therefore be double-damn'd; fwear, thou art honest. That thou art falfe as hell.. Def. To whom, my Lord? With whom? How am I falfe? Oth. Ah, Defdemona! away, away, away. Def. Alas, the heavy day! why do you weep? Am I the motive of these tears, my Lord? If, haply, you my father do fufpect An inftrument of this your calling back, Lay not your blame on me; if you have loft him, Oth. Had it pleas'd heavens To try me with affliction, had they rain'd Giv❜n to captivity me and my utmost hopes; 6 The fountain from the which my current runs, Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads garner'd up my heart,] and the fountain are improperly That is, treasured up; the garner conjoined. Ff 3 To To knot and gender in- Turn thy complexion there, O Def. I hope, my noble Lord efteems me honest. Oth. Oh, ay, as fummer flies are in the fhambles, That quicken ev'n with blowing. Oh thou weed! Who art fo lovely fair, and fmell'ft fo fweet, OT That the fenfe akes at theequi soitto da svad 3ndT Would, thou hadft ne'er been borning on qasd baA Def. Alas, what ignorant fin have I committed ?W Orb. Was this fair paper, this moft goodly book, Made to write whore upon? what, what committed? Committed?-oh, thou publick commoner I should make very forges of my cheeks, ob wol Did but I fpeak thy deeds. What, what committed? Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks; The bawdy wind, that kiffes all it meets, Is hufh'd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear 't. What committed? - Impudent ftrumpet! Def. By heaven, you do me wrong. If to preferve this Veffel for my Lord Be not to be a ftrumpet, I am none. Oik. Is't poffible? Def. Oh, heaven forgive us! I took you for that cunning whore of Venice, 7-Turn thy com; lexion there, &c.] At fuch an object do thou, Patience, thyfelf change colour; at this do thou, even thou, rofy che tub as thou art, look grim as hell. The old editions and the new have it, I here look grim as hell. I was written for aye, and not finçe corrected. 7 SCENE You, mistress,ot fi That have the office oppofite to St. Peter, And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you! We have done our courfe, there's mony for your pains; pray you, turn the key, and keep our counfel. I [Exit. Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady? Def. 'Faith, half asleep. Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my 21. Def. With whom? Emil. Why, with my Lord, madam! anal Def. Who is thy Lord? Emil. He that is yours, fweet lady. Def. I have none; do not talk to me, Æmilia. But what should go by water. Pray, to-night And call thy husband hither. Emil. Here's a change indeed! Remember; [Exit. Def. "Tis meet I fhould be used fo, very meet. How have I been behav'd, that he might stick • The fmall'ft opinion on my least misuse? SCENE XI. Enter Iago, and Emilia. Iago. What is your pleafure, Madam? How is't with you? Def. I cannot tell; thofe, that do teach young babes, Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks; He might have chid me fo, for in good faith, lago. What's the matter, lady? ̈ Emil. Alas, Iago, my Lord hath fo bewhor'd her, Thrown fuch defpight and heavy terms upon her, Def. Am I that name, Iago? Iago. What name, fair lady? Def. Such, as, fhe faid, my Lord did fay I was. Emil. He call'd her whore; a beggar in his drink, Could not have laid fuch terms upon his callet. Def. I do not know; I'm fure, I am none fuch. Jago. Befhrew him for't! How comes this trick upon him? Def. Nay, heaven doth know. Emil. I will be hang'd, if fome eternal villain, Some bufy and infinuating rogue, Some 441 Some cogging, cozening flave, to get fome office, Has not devis'd this flander: I'll be hang'd elfe. Iago. Fie, there is no fuch man; it is impoffible. Def. If any fuch there be, heaven pardon him! Emil. A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones! Why should he call her whore? Who keeps her company? What place? what time? what form? what likeli hood? The Moor's abus'd by fome moft villainous knave, To lafh the rafcal naked through the world, 1 Iago. Speak within door. Emil. Oh, fie upon them! Some fuch 'fquire he was, That turn'd your wit the feamy fide without Def. Alas, Iago, What fhall I do to win my Lord again? Good friend, go to him; by this light of heaven, |