Def. How now, good Caffio, what's the news with you?
Caf. Madam, my former fuit. I do befeech you,
That by your virtuous means I
may again
Exift, and be a member of his love;
Whom I, with all the office of my heart,
Intirely honour. I would not be delay'd;
If my offence be of fuch mortal kind,
That not my service paft, nor present sorrows,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,

Can ranfom me into his love again;
But to know fo, must be my benefit.
So fhall I clothe me in a forc'd content,
And shut myself up in fome other course,
To fortune's alms.

Def. Alas! thrice-gentle Caffio,

My advocation is not now in tune;

My lord is not my lord; nor fhould I know him, Were he in favour, as in humour, alter'd.

So help me every spirit fanctified,

As I have spoken for you all my beft;

And flood within the blank of his displeasure,
For my free fpeech? you muft a-while be patient;
What I can do, I will: and more I will
Than for myself I dare. Let That fuffice you.
Iago. Is my lord angry

Emil. He went hence but now;

And, certainly, in ftrange unquietness.

lago. Can he be angry? I have seen the Cannon, When it hath blown his ranks into the air, And, like the Devil, from his very arm Puft his own brother; and can he be angry? Something of moment then; I will go meet him; There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

SDENE

XII.

Manent Defdemona, Emilia, and Caffio.

Def. I

[Exit.

Pr'ythee, do fo.-Something, fure, of State,
Either from Venice, or fome unhatch'd practice,

Made

Made here demonftrable in Cyprus to him,

Hath puddled his clear fpirit; and, in such case3,
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
Tho' great ones are their object. 'Tis ev'n fo.
For let our finger ake, and it endues

Our other healthful members with a sense
Of pain. Nay, we muft think, Men are not Gods;
Nor of them look for fuch obfervance always,
As fits the bridal. Befhrew me much, Emilia,
I was (unhandíome wrangler, as I am.)
Arraigning his unkindness with my foul;
But now I find, I had fuborn'd the witness,
And he's indited falfely.

Emil. Pray heav'n, it be

State-matter, as you think; and no conception,
Nor jealous toy concerning you.

Def. Alas-the-day, I never gave him cause.
Emil. But jealous fouls will not be anfwer'd fo;
They are not ever jealous for a cause;

But jealous, for they're jealous. It's a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.

Def. Heav'n keep that monster from Othello's mind!
Emil. Lady, amen.

Def. I will go feek him.

Caffio, walk hereabout;

If I do find him fit, I'll move your fuit,
And feek t' effect it to my uttermoft.
Caf. I humbly thank your Ladyfhip.

Bian.

[Exeunt Defdemona and Emilia at one door; Caffio, at the other.

Changes to the Street before the Palace.

Re-enter Caffio, meeting Bianca.
AVE you, friend Caffio.

Caf. What makes you from home?

How is it with you, my moft fair Bianca ?

Indeed, fweet Love, I was coming to your house.

Bian. And I was going to your lodging, Caffio. What? keep a week away? feven days and nights? Eightscore eight hours? and lovers' abfent hours, More tedious than the dial, eightscore times? Oh weary reck'ning!

Caf. Pardon me, Bianca:

I have this while with leaden thoughts been preft; But I fhall in a more convenient time

Strike off this fcore of abfence.

Sweet Bianca,

[Giving her Desdemona's Handkerchief.

Take me this work out.

Bian. Oh Caffio, whence came this? This is fome token from a newer friend: Of thy felt abfence now I feel a caufe: Is't come to this? well, well.

Caf. Go to, woman:

Throw your vile gueffes in the Devil's teeth,

From whence you have them. You are jealous now, That this is from some mistress, fome remembrance ? No, in good troth, Bianca.

Bian. Why, whofe is it?...

Caf. I know not neither; I found it in my chamber; I like the work well; ere it be demanded,

As like enough it will, I'd have it copied :
Take it, and do't, and leave me for this time.
Bian. Leave you? wherefore?

Caf. I do attend here on the General,
And think it no addition, nor my wish,
To have him fee me woman'd.

Bian. Why, I pray you?

Caf. Not that I love you not.

Bian. But that you do not love me ;

I pray you, bring me on the way a little;
And fay, if I fhall fee you foon at night?

Caf. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
For I attend here. But I'll fee you foon.
Bian. 'Tis very good; I must be circumftanc'd.

[Exeunt.

ACT

A C T IV.

SCENE 1.

W

A Court before the PALACE.

Enter Othello, and Iago.

ILL you

IACO.

think fo?

Oth. Think fo, Iago?

Iago. What, to kifs in private?

Oth. An unauthoriz'd kifs ?

Iago. Or to be naked with a friend in bed, An hour or more, not meaning any harm?

Oth. Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm? It is hypocrify against the Devil":

They that mean virtuously, and yet do fo,

The Devil their virtue tempts not; they tempt heav'n. Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a venial flip:

But if I give my wife a handkerchief

Oth. What then?

Iago. Why then, 'tis hers, my lord; and being hers, She may, I think, beftow't on any man.

Oth. She is propertied of her honour too;

May the give That?

Iago. Her honour is an effence that's not feen, They have it very oft, that have it not :

But for the handkerchief

Oth. By heav'n, I would moft gladly have forgot it; Thou faid'ft,-ho, it comes o'er my memory, As doth the Raven o'er th' infected house, Boading to ill, he had my handkerchief. Iago. Ay, what of that?

Oth. That's not fo good now.

Lago. What if I faid, I'd feen him do you wrong? Or heard him fay, (as knaves be fuch abroad, Who having by their own importunate fuit, Or voluntary dotage of fome mistrefs,

Convinc'd

Convinc'd or fuppled them, they cannot chuse

But they must blab.)

Oth. Hath he said any thing?

Iago. He hath, my lord; but be you well affur'd, No more than he'll unfwear.

Oth. What hath he faid?

Iago. Why, that he did

did

Oth. What? what? Iago. Lie

Oth. With her?

I know not what he

Iago. With her; on her what you will

Oth. Lie with her! lie on her! lie with her! that's fulfom: handkerchief-confeffions-handkerchiefhandkerchief to confefs, and be hang'd for his labour--First, to be hang'd, and then--to confefs! I tremble at it-Nature would not inveft herself in fuch fhadowing without fome induction. It is not words, that thake me thus-pifh-nofes, ears, and lips--is't poffible!--confefs! -- handkerchief! oh devil[Falls in a trance.

Iago. Work on,

My medicine, work! thus credulous fools are caught;
And many worthy and chafte Dames even thus,
All guiltlefs, meet reproach. What hoa! my lord!
My lord, I fay, Othello.

SCENE

How now, Caffio?

Enter Caffio.

Caf. What's the matter?

II.

Iago. My lord is fell into an Epilepfy, This is the fecond Fit; he had one yesterday. Caf. Rub him about the temples.

Iago. No, forbear,

The lethargy muft have his quiet courfe;
If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by

Breaks