Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

"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 fan&ified,

As I have spoken for you all my beft,

And flood within the blank of his Displeasure,
For my free Speech. You must a while be patient;
What I can do, I will: and more I will

Than for my felf I dare. Let that fuffice you.
Jago. Is my Lord angry?

Emil. He went hence but now;
And certainly in ft ange unquietness,

Jago. Can he be angry? I have feen the Cannon,
When it hath blown his Ranks into the Air,
And like the Devil from his very Arm
Puft his own Brother; and is he angry?
Something of Moment then; I will go meet him,
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

Def. I prethee do fo. Something fure of State,
Either from Venice, or fome urhatch'd Practice,
Made demonftrable here in Cyprus, to him,
Hath pudled his clear Spirit; and in fuch Cafes,
Mens Natures wrangle with inferior things,
Tho' great ones are their Object. 'Tis even fo.
For let our Finger ake, and it endues

Our other healthful Members, even to a fenfe
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, unhandfome Warrior as I am,
Arraigning his unkindness with my Soul;

But now I find, I had fuborn'd the Witness,
And he's indited falfely,

Emil. Pray Heav'n it be

State-matter's, as you think, and no Conception,

Nor jealous Toy concerning you.

Def. Alas-the-day, I never gave him Cause.

Emil. But jealous Souls will not be anfwer'd fo;

They are not ever jealous for the Caufe,

[Exit.

But

But jealous, for they're jealous. It is a Monster
Begot upon it felf, born on it felf.

Def. Heav'n keep the 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 seek to effect it to my uttermoft.
Caf. I humbly thank your Ladyfhip.
Enter Bianca.

Bian. 'Save 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 Houfe.
Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Caffio.
What? keep a Week away? Seven days and nights?
Eight core eight Hours? And Loves abfent Hours
More tedious than the Dial, eightscore times?
Oh weary reck❜ning!

Caf. Pardon me, Bianca:

[ocr errors]

I have this while with leaden thoughts been preft,
But I fhall in a more continuate time

Strike off this Score of Abfence. Sweet Bianca,

[Exit.

[Giving her Defdemona's Handkerchief.

Take me this work out.

Bian. On Caffio, whence came this?

This is fome Token from a newer Friend;

To the 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 fome Miftrefs, fome remembrance?
No, in go d troth, Bianca.

Bian. Why, whofe is it?

Caf. I know not neither; I found it in

[blocks in formation]

I like the work well; e'er it be demanded,
As like enough it will, I would 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

And think it no Addition, nor my with
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 IV. SCENE I.
SCENE A Room of State.

Enter Othello, and Jago.

Fago. Will you think fo?

Oth. Think fo, Jago?

Jago. What, to kifs in private?

Oth. An unauthoriz'd kiss?

Jago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed, An Hour or more, not meaning any harm?

Och. Naked in bed, Jago, and not mean harm?

It is Hypocrifie against the Devil:

They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,

The Devil their virtue temps, and they tempt Heav'n. Jago. If they do nothing, 'tis a venial flip:

But if I give my Wife a Handkerchief

Oth. What then?

Jago. Why then, 'tis her's, my Lord, and being hers, She may, I think, beftow't on any Man.

Oth. She is Prote&refs of her Honour too;

May the give that?

Fago. Her Honour is an Effence that's not seen, 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

Thou faidft, Oh, it comes o'er my Memory,
As doth the Raven o'er the infectious Houfe,
Boading to all, he had my Handkerchief.
Fago. Ay, what of that?

Oth. That's not fo good now.

Jage. What if I had faid, I had 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 Mistress, Convinced or supplied them, cannot chufe But they must blab.

Oth. Hath he faid any thing?

Jago. He hath, my Lord, but be you well affur'd, No more than he'll unfwear.

Oth. What hath he faid?

Jago. Why, that he did I know not what he didOth. What? what?

Fago. Lye

Oth. With her?

Jago. With her? on her what you will

Oth. Lye with her! lye on her! we fay, lye on her, when they be lye her. Lye with her! that's fulfom: Handkerchief Confeffons - Handkerchief to confefs, and be hang'd for his Labour--Firft, to be hang'd, and then to Confefs---I tremble at it--Nature would not inveft her felf in such shadowing Paffion, without fome inftru&tion. It is no words that thake me thus

Ears and Lips-
Handkerchief!
Jago. Work on,

-is't poffible!

O Devil

[ocr errors]

pish ---- Nofes,

Confefs!
[Falls in a Trance.

My Medicine works; thus credulous Fools are caught;
And many worthy, and chaft Dames even thus,

2

All guiltless meet reproach; what hoa! my Lord!
My Lord, I fay, Othello.

How now, Ceffig?

Enter Caffio.

Caf. What's the matter!

Jago. My Lord is faln into an Epilepfie,

That is the fecond Fit; he had one Yesterday.

Caf. Rub him about the Temples.

Fago.

Jago. The Lethargy muft have his quiet course;
If not, he foams at Mouth, and by and by
Breaks out to favage madnefs; look, he ftirs;
withdraw your felf a little while,

Do you

He will recover ftraight; when he is gone,
I would on great occafion fpeak with you.

[Exit Caffic

How is it, General? Have you not hurt your Head?

Oth. Doft thou mock me?

Jago. I mock you not, by Heav'n;

Would you would bear your Fortune like a Man.
Oth. A horned Man's a Monster and a Beast.

Jago. There's many a Beaft then in a Populous City, And many a civil Monster.

Oth. Did he confess it?

Jago. Good Sir, be a Man:

Think every bearded Fellow that's but yoak'd
May draw with you. There's Millions now alive,
That nightly lye in thofe unproper beds,

Which they dare fwear peculiar. Your caufe is better.
Oh, 'tis the fpight of Hell, the Fiends Arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a fecure Couch ;

your Grief

And to fuppofe her chaft. No, let me know,
And knowing what I am, I know what the thall be.
Oth. Oh, thou art wife; 'tis certain.
Jago. Stand you a while apart,
Confine your felf but in a patient Lift.
Whilft you were here, o'er-whelmed with
(A Paffion moft refulting fuch a Man)
Caffio came hither. I fhifted him away,
And laid good 'Scufes on your Extafie,
Bad him anon return, and here fpeak with me,
The which he promis'd. Do but encave your felf,
And mark the Fleers, the Gibes and notable Scorns,
That dwell in every Region of his Face.
For I will make him tell the Tale anew;
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
He hath, and is again to cope your Wife.
I fay, but mark his Gesture. Marry Patience,
Or I fhall fay y'are all in all in Spleen,
And nothing of a Man.

Oth

« VorigeDoorgaan »