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T H

S CE N E VI.
Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants, from the

Palace.
Lod.

SA Och With all my heart, Sir.

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Lod. The Duke and the Senators of Venice greet you.

Gives him a letter.
Oth. I kiss the Inftrument of their pleasures.
Des. And what's the news, good Cousin Lodovico?

Iago. I am very glad to see you, fignior.
Welcome to Cyprus.

Lod. I thank you; how does lieutenant Casio?
Iago. Lives, Sir.
Def. Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my

lord
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.
Oth. Are you fure of that ?

[Afide.
Def. My lord ?
Oih. This fail you not to do, as you will -- [Reads.

Lod. He did not call; he's busy in the paper.
Is their division 'twixt my lord and Casio ?

Def. A most unhappy one; I would do much
Tatone them, for the love I bear to Caffio.

Oth. Fire and brimstone !
Def. My lord 152:1 medij ntin. Frisk? :/
Oih. 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,
Deputing Casio in his Government.

Def. Trust me, I am glad on't.
Oth. Indeed !
Def. My lord!

[Aside.
Oth. I am glad to see you mad.
Def. Why, sweet Othello?
Oih. Deyil!

[Striking her.

Lod.

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Def. I have not deserv'd this.

Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice, Though I should swear, I saw't. . 'Tis very much ; Make her amends, she weeps.

Oth. Oh devil, devil! If that the earth could teen with woman's tears,:u Each drop, she falls, would prove a crocodile : Out of my fightDes. I will not stay t' offend you. .

[Going. Lod. Truly, an obedient lady: I do beseech your lordship, call her back."

Oth. Mistress,
Def. My lord.
Oth. What would you with her, Şir? 5.1-
Lod. Who, I, my lord ?

1
Oth. Ay; you did wish, that I would make her

turn : Sir, she can turn and tura, and yet go on; And turn again. And she can weep, Sir, weep; And she's obedient: as you say, obedient;Y ? Very obedient-proceed you in your tears Concerning this, Sir,-oh well-painted paffion! I am commanded homem get you away, I'll send for you anon, ---Sir, 1 obey the mandate, And will return to Venice. ----Hence, avant !

Exit Desdemona. Caffio fhall have my Place. And, Sir, tonight I do entreat that we may sup together. You are welcome, Sir, to CyprusGoats and monkeys !

(Exit,

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SC EN E VII.

Manent Lodovico, and Iago. Lod. S this the noble Moor, whom our full IS

Senate Call all-in-all sufficient? this the Nature, Which passion could not shake? whose folid virtue

The

The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither raze, nor pierce ?

lago. He is much chang'd.
Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain ?
Iago. He's what he is ? I

may

not breathe my censure. What he might be, if what he might he is not, I would to heaven, he were !

Lod. What, ftrike 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 honefty in me to speak
What I have seen and known. You fall 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'm sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him. (Exeunt.

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ever did fus

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Othello and Æmilia. Oth. OU have seen nothing then ?

Æmil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suf

pect. Oth. Yes, you have seen Casio and her together.

Æmil. But then I saw no harm; and then I heard Each fyllable, that breath made up between them.

Oth. What? did they never whisper?
Æmil. Never, my lord.
Oth. Nor send you out o'th' way?
T 3

Emil.

Emil. Neyer.
Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor

nothing?
Æmil. Never, my lord.
Oth. That's strange!
Æmil

. I durft, 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 heav'n 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 Æmilia.
She says enough; yet she's a ample bawd,
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
A closet lock and key of villanous secrets ;
And yet she'll kneel, and pray: I've seen her do't

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your will ?

Enter Desdemona and Æmilia.
Def. My lord, what is

Oth. Pray you, chuck, come hither.
Des. What is your pleasure ?
Oth. Let me see your eyes; look in my

face. Def. What horrible fancy's this?

Oth. Some of your fundion, mistress; Leave procreants alone, and shut the door, Cough, or cry, hem, if any body come. Your mistery, your miftery ;

-nay, dispatch,

Exit Emilia. Def. Upon my knee, what doth your speech im.

port?

I understand a fury in your words,
But not your words.

Oth Why? what art thou ?
Def. Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife.

Oth.

Oth. Come, swear it; damn thyself; left, being like

one

Of heav'n, the devils themselves should fear to seize

thee. Therefore be double-damn'd; swear, thou art honest.

Def. Heav'n doth truly know it.

Oth. Heav'n truly knows, That thou art false as hell.

Def. To whom, my lord ?
With whom ? how am I false ?

Oth. Ah, Desdemona! away, away, away-
Des

. Alas, the heavy day! why do you weep? Am I the motive 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 heav'n To try me with affliction, had he rain'd All kind of sores and shames on my bare head, Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips, Giv'n to captivity me and my hopes ; I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience. But, alas to make me A fixed figure for the hand of scorn To point his flow unmoving finger at 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 thence, Patience, thou young, and rose-lip'd cherubin ; I here look grim as hell.

Def. I hope, my noble lord efteems me honest.

Oth. Oh, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken ev'n with blowing.

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