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Manet Emilia.

Emil. I am glad, I have found this napkin;
This was her first remembrance from the Moor;
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to fteal it. But the fo loves the token,
(For he conjur'd her, fhe fhould ever keep it)
That she reserves it evermore about her,

To kifs and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
And giv't Iago; what he'll do with it,

Heav'n knows, not I:

I nothing, but to please his fantasy.

Enter Iago.

Jago. How now? what do

you here alone?

Emil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you. Iago. You have a thing for me?

It is a common thing

Emil. Ha?

Iago. To have a foolish wife.

Emil. Oh, is that all? what will you give me now

For that fame handkerchief?

Jago. What handkerchief?

Emil. What handkerchief?

Why, that the Moor firft gave to Desdemona ;
That which so often you did bid me fteal.

lago. Haft ftollen it from her?

Emil. No; but she let it drop by negligence; And, to th' advantage, I, being here, took't up: Look, here 'tis.

Jago. A good wench, give it me.

Learneft

Emil. What will you do with't, you have been fo

To have me filch it?

Jago. Why, what is that to you?

[Snatching it.

Emil. If't be not for fome purpose of import,

Give't me again. Poor lady! she'll run mad,

When the fhall lack it.

Iago. Be not you known on't:

I have ufe for it. Go, leave me

[Exit Emil.

I will in Caffio's lodging lofe this napkin,

And

And let him find it. Trifles light as air
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy Writ. This may do fomething."
The Moor already changes with my poifons:
Dang'rous conceits are in their nature poifons, (36)
Which at the firft are fcarce found to diftafte;
But, with a little act upon the blood,

Burn like the mines of fulphur.-I did fay fo.
Enter Othello.

Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy fyrups of the world,

Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep,

Which thou hadst yesterday.

Oth. Ha! falfe to me!

Iago. Why, how now, General? no more of that.

Oth. Avant! be gone! thou'ft fet me on the rack: Ifwear, 'tis better to be much abus'd,

Than but to know a little.

lago. How, my Lord?

Oth. What fenfe had I of her ftoll'n hours of luft?
I faw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me ;
I flept the next night well; was free, and merry ;
I found not Caffe's kiffes on her lips:

He, that is robb'd, not wanting what is ftoll'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all..
Iago. I am forry to hear this.

Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,
(Pioneers and all,) had tafted her fweet body,
So I had nothing known. Oh now, for ever
Farewel the tranquil mind! Farewel content!
Farewel the plumed troops, and the big war,
That make ambition virtue! oh, farewel!

(36) Dang rous conceits are in their nature poifons,] I cannot poffibly account for Mr. Pope's oftentation of induftry upon this paffage. This line, fays he, reftor'd from the first edition, compleats the fenfe. But, pray, let us obferve the accuracy of this wonderful restorer. The line, 'tis true, is in the first edition; but 'tis likewife in the first and fecond impreffions in folio; 'tis in the quarto, of 1630; and 'tis in the edi tions put out by Mr. Rowe; how then is it refer'd? Huic mandes, fi quid rectè curatum'

velis.

03

Farewel

Farewel the neighing fteed, and the fhrill trump,
The fpirit-ftirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumftance of glorious war!
And, oh, you mortal engines, whofe rude throats
Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's Occupation's gone!

Iago. Is't poffible, my Lord?

Oth. Villain, be fure, thou prove my love a whore ; Ee fure of it give me the ocular proof,

[Catching hold on him.. Or, by the worth of mine eternal foul,

Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.

lago. Is't come to this?

Oth. Make me to fee't; or, at the leaft, fo prove it, That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,

To hang à doubt on: or, woe upon thy life!

Iago. My noble Lord

Oth. If thou doft flander her, and torture me, Never pray more; abandon all remorfe;

On horrors head horrors accumulate ;

Do deeds to make heav'n-weep, all earth amaz'd
For nothing canft thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.

Lao. Oh grace! oh heav'n defend me!
Are you a man? have you a foul? or sense?
God be w' you; take mine office.-O wretched fool,
That liv'ft to make thine honesty a vice!

Oh monstrous world! take note, take note, oh world, To be direct and honeft, is not fafe.

I thank you for this profit, and from hence

I'll love no friend, fith love breeds fuch offence.
Oth. Nay, ftay-thou shouldst be honest-
Jago. I fhould be wife, for honesty's a fool,
And lofes what is works for..

Oth. By the world,

I think, my wife is honeft; and think, fhe is not ;
I think, that thou art juft; and think, thou art not;
I'll have fome proof. Her name, that was as fresh

A

As Dian's vifage, is now begrim'd and black :
As my own face. If there be cords, or knives, {'
Poifon, or fire, or fuffocating ftreams,

I'll not endure't-'Would, I were fatisfied!oq
Iago. I fee, Sir, you are eaten up with paffion;
I do repent me that I put it to you

You would be fatisfied?

Oth. Would? nay, and will.

Iago. And may; but how? how fatisfied, my Lord? Would you be fupervifor, grofly gape on? Behold her tupp'd?

Ork. Death and damnation! oh!

lago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring 'em to that profpect: damn them then,
If ever mortal eyes do fee them bolster,

More than their own. What then? how then
What fhall I fay? where's fatisfaction ?
It is impoflible you fhould fee this,

Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As falt as wolves in pride, and fools as grofs:
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I fay,
If imputation and ftrong circumftances,
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you fatisfaction, you might hav't.
Oth. Give me a living reafon fhe's difloyal.
lago. I do not like the office;

But fith I'm enter'd in this caufe fo far,
Prick'd to't by foolish honefty and love,
I will go on. I lay with Cofio lately,
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not fleep.

There are a kind of men, so loose of soul,
That in their fleeps will mutter their affairs;
One of this kind is Cafio:

In fleep I heard him fay, "Sweet Defdemona,
"Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!??./
And then, Sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand;
Cry-Chfweet creature" and then kifs me hard,
As if he pluckt up kiffes by the roots,
grew upon my lips; then lay his leg

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Over

Over my thigh, and figh and kifs, and then!
Cry, "Curfed fate! that gave thee to the Moor."
Oh. Oh monftrous! monstrous !

Jago. Nay, this was but his dream.

Oth. But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion; 'Tis a fhrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. lage. And this may help to thicken other proofs, That do demonstrate thinly.

Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces.

Ingo. Nay, but be wife; yet we fee nothing done; She may be honeft yet.--Tell me but this, Have you not fometimes feen a handkerchief, Spotted with ftrawberries in your wife's hand? Oth. I gave her fuch a one; 'twas my first gift. Iago. I know not that; but fuch a handkerchief, (I'm fure, it was your wife's,) did I to-day See Caio wipe his beard with.

Oth. If it be that

Jago. If it be that, or any, if 'twas hers, It fpeaks against her with the other proofs.

Öth. Oh, that the flave had forty thousand lives!
One is too poor, to weak for my revenge.
Now do I fee, 'tis true. - Look here, Iago,
All my fond love thus do I blow to heav'n :
'Tis gone;

Arife, black vengeance from the hollow hell!
Yield up, oh love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! fwell, bofom, with thy fraught,
For 'tis of afpicks' tongues.

lag. Yet be content.

Oth. Oh, blood, blood, blood

Ingo Patience, I fay; your mind, perhaps, may change.
Oth. Never, lago. Like to the Pontick sea,

Whofe icy current and compulfive course,
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontick, and the Hellefpont:
Even fo my bloody thoughts with violent pace
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
ill that a capable and wide revenge

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Swallow them up.-Now, by yon marble heav'n,

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