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He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain
From the excess of laughter.-Here he comes

Enter CASSIO.

As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;
And his unbookish jealousy must construe

Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviour,
Quite in this wrong. How do
you now, lieutenant?
Cas. The worser, that you give me the addition,
Whose want even kills me.

[on't:

Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure' Now if this suit lay in Bianca's power,

[Speaking lower.

How quickly should

you speed?

[Aside.

Cas. Alas, poor caitiff!

Oth. Look how he laughs already.

Iago. I never knew a woman love man so.
Cas. Alas, poor rogue, I think indeed she loves me.
Oth. Now he denies it faintly and laughs out.
[Aside.

Iago. Do you hear, Cassio!

Oth. Now he importunes him

To tell it o'er; go to, well said, well said. [Aside. Iago. She gives it out that you shall marry her.

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Oth. Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?

[Aside.

VOL. III.

I

Cas. I marry her!-What? a customer? pr'ythee bear some charity to my wit, do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha!

Oth. So, so they laugh that win.

[Aside.

Iago. Why, the cry goes that you shall marry

Cas. Pr'ythee, say true.

Iago. I am a very villain else.

Oth. Have you scored me! well.

[her.

[Aside.

Cas. This is the monkey's (66) own giving out: she is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise.

Oth. Iago beckons me: now he begins the story.

[Aside.

Cas. She was here even now: she haunts me in every place. I was the other day talking on the sea bank with certain Venetians, and thither comes the bauble, and falls me thus about the neck

Oth. Crying, Oh dear Cassio, as it were: his gesture imports it. [Aside. Cas. So hangs and lolls, and weeps upon me, so shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha!

Oth. Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber: oh I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to.

[Aside.

(66) The monkey. Bianca's face in the moon is not unlike that of a baboon.

Cas. Well, I must leave her company.
Iago. Before me! look, where she comes.

Enter BIANCA.

Cas. 'Tis such another fitchew: marry, a perfumed one. What do you mean by this haunting of me?

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Bian. Let the devil and his dam (67) haunt you! what did you mean by that said handerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it I must take out the work? A likely piece of work. that you should find it in your chamber, and know not who left it there. This is some minx's token, and I must take out the work? there—give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever you had it, I'll take out no work on't.

Cas. How now, my sweet Bianca? how now? how now?

Oth. By Heaven, that should be my handkerchief. (68) [Aside. Bian. If you'll come to supper to-night, you

(67) It has been observed in a former note, that the prototype of Iago, which is close to that of Cassio, is often, from the general characters of its features, likened to the devil.

(68) Figure 108 gives another view of the fatal handkerchief, as now held in the hand of Cassio, and made up

may; if you wll not, come when you are next prepared for.

Iago. After her, after her.

Cas. I must, she'll rail in the streets else.

Iago. Will you sup there?

Cas. Yes, I intend so.

[Exit.

Iago. Well, I may chance to see you; for I

would very fain speak with you.

Cas. Pr'ythee come, will you?

Iago. Go to, say no more.

[Exit Cassio.

Manent OTHELLO and IAGO.

Oth. How shall I murder him, Iago?

Iago. Did you perceive how he laughed at his

Oth. Oh, Iago!

[vice?

Iago. And did you see the handkerchief?

Oth. Was that mine?

Iago. Yours, by this hand and to see how he

of the light which formed the conical cap of Whachum in Hudibras, reversed.

Fig. 108,

prizes the foolish woman your

wife. She gave

it

him, and he hath given it his whore.

Oth. I would have him nine years a killing: A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman! Iago. Nay, you must forget that.

Oth. Ay, let her rot and perish, and be damned to night; for she shall not live. No, my heart is turned to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world hath not a sweeter creature-She might lie by an Emperor's side and command him tasks.

Iago. Nay, that's not your way.

Oth. Hang her, I do but say what she is-so delicate with her needle-an admirable musicianOh, she will sing the savageness out of a bear: of so high and plenteous wit and invention ! Iago. She's the worse for all this.

Oth. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times:
And then of so gentle condition!-
Iago. Ay, too gentle.

Oth. Nay, that's certain.

But yet the pity of it, Iago-Oh, lago, the pity of it, Iago

Iago. If you are so fond over of her iniquity, give per patent to offend; for if it touch not you, it comes near nobody.

Oth. I will chop her into messes: cuckold me ! Iago. Oh, 'tis foul in her.

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