Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my lady, Know of your love?

Oth. He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask? Iago. But for a satisfaction in my thought;

No further harm.

Oth.

Why of thy thought, Iago?

Iago. I did not think he had been acquainted with her. Oth. O yes; and went between us very oft.

Iago. Indeed?

Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed.-Discern'st thou aught in that? Is he not honest?

By Heaven he echoes me,

As if there were some monster in his thought

Too hideous to be shown.-Thou dost mean something;
I heard thee say but now. Thou lik'dst not that,
When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like?
And, when I told thee, he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed?
And didst contract and purse thy brow together
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.

Iago.
Oth.
And for I know thou art full of love and honesty,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath-
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more;
For such things, in a false disloyal knave,

My lord, you know I love you.
I think thou dost;

Are tricks of custom; but, in a man that's just,
They are close denotements, working from the heart,
That passion cannot rule.

Iago.

I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest.

Oth. I think so too.

For Michael Cassio,

Men should be what they seem;

Iago.
Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem none!
Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.

I

Iago. Why then, I think Cassio's an honest man.
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this.

pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,

As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.

Iago.

Good my lord, pardon me; Though I am bound to every act of duty,

I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.

Utter my thoughts? Why, say, they are vile and false,―
As where's that palace, whereinto foul things

Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions

Keep leets, and law-days, and in session sit
With meditations lawful?

Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago. If thou but think'st him wronged, and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.

Iago.
I do beseech you,-
Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,
As, I confess, it is my nature's plague

To spy into abuses; and, oft, my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not,-I entreat you, then,
From one that so imperfectly conjects,

You'd take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.

Oth.

What dost thou mean?

Iago. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls.

Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing. 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;

But he that filches from me my good name,

Robs me of that which not enriches him,

And makes me poor indeed.

Oth. By Heaven, I'll know thy thought.

Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
Oth. Ha!

Iago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-eyed monster, which doth make
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But, 0, what damned minutes tells he o'er,
Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves!
Oth. O, misery!

Iago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter,

To him that ever fears he shall be poor.-
Good Heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!

Oth.

Why! why is this?

Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy,

To follow still the changes of the moon.

With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt
Is once to be resolved. Exchange me for a goat,
When I shall turn the business of my soul

To such exsufficate and blown surmises,

Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous,
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well;
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous;
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt;
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;
I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,—
Away at once with love, or jealousy.

Iago. I am glad of this, for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit; therefore, as I am bound,
Receive it from me.-I speak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
Wear your eye-thus, not jealous, nor secure.
I would not have your free and noble nature,
Out of self-bounty, be abused; look to't.

I know our country disposition well;

In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks

They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience Is-not to leave undone, but keep unknown.

Oth. Dost thou say so?

Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying you; And, when she seemed to shake, and fear your looks, She loved them most.

Oth. Iago

And so she did.

Why, go to, then;

She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
To seel her father's eyes up, close as oak,-

He thought 'twas witchcraft.-But I am much to blame;
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon,

For too much loving you.

Oth.
I am bound to thee forever.
Iago. I see this hath a little dashed your spirits.
Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.

Iago.

Trust me, I fear it has.

I hope you will consider, what is spoke

Comes from my love;-but I do see you are moved.I am to pray you not to strain my speech

To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,

Than to suspicion.

Oth. I will not.

Iago.

Should you do so, my lord,

My speech should fall into such vile success

As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend.— My lord, I see you are moved.

Oth.

No, not much moved;

I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

Iago. Long live she so! and long live you to think so! Oth. And yet, how nature, erring from itself,

Iago. Ay, there's the point.- As,—to be bold with you,— Not to affect many proposed matches,

Of her own clime, complexion and degree;
Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends:

Foh! one may smell, in such, a will most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural.

But pardon me; I do not, in position,
Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And (happily) repent.

Oth.

Farewell, farewell.
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, Iago.
Iago. My lord, I take my leave.

[Going.

Oth. Why did I marry? This honest creature, doubt

less,

Sees, and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
Iago. My lord, I would I might entreat your honor
To scan this thing no further; leave it to time;
And though it be fit that Cassio have his place,
(For, sure, he fills it up with great ability,)
Yet, if you please to hold him off a while,
You shall by that perceive him and his means.
Note, if your lady strain his entertainment
With any strong or vehement importunity;
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,
(As worthy cause I have to fear-I am,)
And hold her free, I do beseech your honor.
Oth. Fear not my government.

Iago. I once more take my leave.

Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings,
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind,
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black;
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have;-or, for I am declined
Into the vale of years; - yet that's not much ;-
She's gone; I am abused; and my relief
Must be to loathe her. O, curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapor of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love,

[Exit.

For others' use. Yet 'tis the plague of great ones;
Prerogatived are they less than the base;
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death;
Even then this forked plague is fated to us,
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes.

Enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA.

If she be false, O, then Heaven mocks itself!-
I'll not believe it.

Des.

How now, my dear Othello?

Your dinner, and the generous islanders

By you invited, do attend your presence.

Oth. I am to blame.

Des. Why is your speech so faint? Are you not well? Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.

Des. 'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again.

Let me but bind it hard, within this hour

It will be well.

Oth.

Your napkin is too little;

[He puts the handkerchief from him, and it drops. Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.

Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.

[Exeunt ОTH. and DES. Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin; This was her first remembrance from the Moor. My wayward husband hath a hundred times Wooed me to steal it; but she so loves the token, (For he conjured her she would ever keep it,) That she reserves it evermore about her,

To kiss, and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,