Jago. Faith that was not fo well; yet would I knew That ftroke would prove the worst.

Lod. Is it his ufe?

Or did the Letters work upon his Blood,
And new create his Fault?

Fago. Alas, alas!

It is not honefty in me to speak

What I have seen and known. You shall obferve him,
And his own Courfes will denote him fo,

That I may fave my Speech; do but go after,

And mark how he continues.

Led. I am forry that I am deceiv'd in him.

SCENE II. An Apartment.

Enter Othello and Emilia.

Oth. You have feen nothing then?

[Exeunt.

Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did fufpe&t.
Oth. Yes, you have feen Caffio and the together.
Emil. But then I faw no harm; and then I heard
Each Syllable that breath made up between them.
Oth. What? Did they never whifper?

Emil. Never, my Lord.

Oth. Nor fend you out o'th' way?

Emil. Never.

Oth. To fetch her Fan, her Gloves, her Mask,nor nothing?

Amil. Never, my Lord.

Oth. That's ftrange!

Emil. I durft, my Lord, to wager fhe is honeft,
Lay down my Soul at Stake; if you think other,
Remove your thought, it doth abuse

your Bofom.
If any wretch hath put this in your Head,
Let Heav'n requite it with the Serpent's Curfe,
For if the be not honeft, chaft and true,

There's no Man happy, the pureft of their Wives,
Is foul as Slander.

Oth. Bid her come hither, go;
[Exit Emilia
She fays enough; yet fhe's a fimple Bawd
That cannot fay as much. This is a fubtle Whore,
A Cloffet-lock and Key of villanous Secrets;
And yet he'll kneel, and pray; I have feen her do't.

Enter

Enter Defdemona and Emilia.

Def. My Lord, what is your Will?
Oth. Pray you, Chuck, come hither.
Def. What is your Pleasure?

Oth. Let me fee your Eyes; look in my Face.
-Def. What horrible Fancy's this?

Oth. Some of your Function, Mistress, Leave Procreants alone, and fhut the Door,

Cough, or cry hem, if any body come,

Your Myftery, your Mystery; nay difpatch. [Exit Emil,
Def. Upon my Knee, what doth your Speech import?
I understand a Fury in your Words.

Oth. Why? What at thou?

Def. Your Wife, my Lord; your true and loyal Wife, Oth. Come fwear it; damn thy felf, being like one Of Heav'n, the Devils themselves fhould fear to feize thee. Therefore be double damn'd; fwear thou art honeft. Def. Heav'n doth truly know it.

Oth. Heav'n truly knows,

That thou art falfe as Hell.

Def. To whom, my Lord?
With whom? How am I falfe?

Oth. Ah, Defdemon, away, away, 'away
Def. Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?
Am I the Motive of thefe Tears, my Lord?
If happily you my Father do fufpe&t,

An Inftrument of this your calling back,

Lay not your Blame on me; if you have loft him,
Why I have loft him too.

Oth. Had it pleas'd Heav'n,

To try me with Affliction, had he rain'd
All kind of Sores, and fhames on my bare Head,
Steep'd me in Poverty to the very Lips,

Given to Captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I should have found in fome 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 and moving Finger at
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well:
But there where I have garner'd up my Heart,
Where either I muft live, or bear no Life,

Nn 4

The

The Fountain from the which my Current runs,
Or elfe dries up, to be difcarded thence;
Or keep it as a Ciftern, for foul Toads

To knot and gender it. Turn thy Complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'a Cherubin,
I here look grim as Hell.

Def. I hope my noble Lord effeems me Honest.
Oth. O ay, as Summer-Flies are in the Shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. Oh thou Weed!
Who art to lovely, fair, and smell'st so sweet,
That the Senfe asks at thee;

Wouldst thou'dft never been born!

Def. Alas, what ignorant Sin have I committed
Orh. Was this fair Paper, this moft goodly Book,
Made to write Whore upon? What committed,
Committed? Oh, thou publick Commoner,
I should make very Forges of my Cheeks,
That would to Cynders burn up Modefty,
Did but I fpeak thy Deeds. What, committed?
Heav'n ftops the Nole at it, and the Moon winks;
The bawdy Wind, that kiffes all it meets,
Is hush'd within the hollow Mine of Earth
And will not hear't. What, committed?
Def. By Heav'n, you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a Strumpet?
Def. No, as I am a Chriftian.
If to preferve this Veffel for my Lord,
From any other foul unlawful touch,
Be, not to be a Strumpet, I am none,
Oth. What, not a Whore?

Def. No, as I fhall be fav'd,
Oth. Is't poffible?

Def. Oh Heav'n forgive us.
Oth. I cry you Mercy, then,

I took you for that cunning Whore of Venice,
That married with Othello. You, Miftrefs,

Enter Emilia.

That have the Office oppofite to Saint Peter,
And keep the Gate of Hell. You, you! Ay you!
We have done our courfe, there's Mony for your Pains;
I pray you, turn the Key, and keep our Counsel.

[Exit.

Amil. 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 Lord?
Def. With whom?

Amil. Why, with my Lord, Madam?

Def Who is thy Lord?

Emil, He that is yours, fweet Lady.

Def. I have none, do not talk to me, Æmilia,

I cannot weep; nor anfwers have I none,

But what should go by Water. Prethee to night,
Lay on my Bed my wedding Sheets, remember,
And call thy Husband hither.

Amil. Here's a change indeed.

Def. 'Tis meet I fhould be us'd fo, very meet: How have I been behav'd, that he might stick The fmalleft Opinion on my leaft mifufe?

Enter Jago, and Æmilia.

Jago. What is your Pleasure, Madam? How is't with you!

Def. I cannot tell; thofe that do teach your Babes,
Do it with gentle Means, and eafie Tasks;

He might have chid me fo: For in good Faith,
I am a Child to chiding.

Jago What's the Matter, Lady?

Emil. Alas, Jago, my Lord hath so bewhor'd her, Thrown fuch defpight, and heavy. Terms upon her, That true Hearts cannot bear it.

Def. Am I that Name, Jago?

Jago. What Name, fair Lady?

Def Such as the faid my Lord did say I was.
Æmil. He call'd her Whore; a Beggar, in his drink,
Could not have laid fuch Terms upon his Callet.
Jago. Why did he fo?

Def. I do not know; I am fure I am none fuch?
Jago. Do not weep, do not weep; alas the Day!
Emil. Hath fhe forfook fo many noble Matches?
Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends?
To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weep?
Def. It is my wretched Fortune.

[Exit.

Fago.

Jago. Bethrew him for't; how comes this trick upon

him?

Def. Nay, Heav'n doth know.

Emil. I will be hang'd if fome eternal Villian,
Some bufie and infinuating Rogue,

Some cogging, cozening Slave, to get fome Office,
Has not devis'd this flander: I will be hang'd elfe.
Jago. Fie, there is no fuch Man; it is impoffible.
Def. If any fuch there be, Heav'n pardon him.

Emil. A Halter pardon him, and Hell gnaw his Bones. Why should he call her Whore? Who keeps her Com pany?

What Place? what Time? what Form? what Likelyhood?

The Moor's abus'd by fome moft villanous Knave,
Some base notorious Knave, fome fcurvy Fellow.
Oh Heav'ns, that fuch Companions thoud'ft unfold,
And put in every honeft Hand a Whip,

To lafh the Rafeal naked through the World,
Even from the Eaft to th' Weft.

Jago. Speak within Door.

Emil. Oh fie upon them! Some fuch 'Squire he was That turn'd your Wit, the feamy fide without,

And made you to fufpe&t me with the Moor.

Jago. You are a Fool; go to.

Def. Alas, Jago,

What fhall I do to win my Lord again?

Good Friend, go to him; for by this light of Heav'n,
I know not how I loft him. Here I kneel;

If e'er my will did trefpafs 'gainst his Love,

Either in Difcourfe of Thought, or actual deed,
Or that mine Eyes, mine Ears, or any Senfe
Delighted them on any other Form;
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
And ever will, though he do shake me off
To beggarly Divorcement, love him dearly,
Comfort forfwear me. Unkindness may do much,
And his Unkindnefs may defeat my Life,
But never taint my Love. I cannot fay Whore,
It do's abhor me now I fpeak the Word,

[Kneeling.

To