Iago.
Will you think so?

Oth.
Think so, Iago?

Iago.
What, to kiss in private?

Oth.
An unauthoriz'd kiss?

Iago.
Or to be naked with her friend in bed,
An hour or more, not meaning any harm?

Oth.
Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm?(43) ^note

It is hypocrisy against the Devil:
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
The Devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heav'n.

Iago.
If they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip:
But if I give my wife a handkerchief—

Oth.
What then?

Iago.
Why then, 'tis hers, my lord; and, being hers,
She may, I think, bestow't it on any man.

Oth.
She is protectress of her honour too;
May she give That?

Iago.
Her honour is an essence that's not seen,
They have it very oft, that have it not:
But for the handkerchief—

Oth.
By heav'n, I would most gladly have forgot it;
Thou saidst,—oh, it comes o'er my memory,
As doth the Raven o'er th' infected house,
Boading to ill,—he had my handkerchief.

Iago.
Ay, what of that?

Oth.
That's not so good now.

Iago.
What if I said, I'ad seen him do you wrong?
Or heard him say, (as knaves be such abroad,(44) ^note

Oth.
Hath he said any thing?

Iago.
He hath, my lord; but be you well assur'd,
No more than he'll unswear.

Oth.
What hath he said?

Iago.
Why, that he did—I know not what he did—

Oth.
What? what?

Iago.
Lye—

Oth.
With her?

Iago.
With her; on her—what you will—

Oth.

Lye with her! lye on her! lye with her! that's fulsom: handkerchief—confessions—handkerchief— handkerchief—to confess, and be hang'd for his labour— First, to be hang'd, and then—to confess!—I tremble at it—Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing without some instruction. It is not words, that shake me thus—pish—noses, ears, and lips—is't possible!— confess!—handkerchief!—oh devil—

Iago.
Work on,
My medicine, work! thus credulous fools are caught;
And many worthy and chast Dames even thus,
All guiltless, meet reproach. What hoa! my lord!
My lord, I say, Othello,— Enter Cassio.
How now, Cassio?

Cas.
What's the matter?

Iago.
My lord is fell into an Epilepsie,
This is the second Fit; he had one yesterday.

Cas.
Rub him about the temples.

Iago.
No, forbear,
The lethargy must have his quiet course;
If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by
Breaks out to savage madness: look, he stirs,
Do you withdraw your self a little while,
He will recover straight; when he is gone,
I would on great occasion speak with you. [Exit Cassio.
How is it, General? have you not hurt your head?

Oth.
Dost thou mock me?

Iago.
I mock you not, by heav'n;
Would you would bear your fortunes like a man.

Oth.
A horned man's a monster, and a beast.

Iago.
There's many a beast, then, in a populous city,
And many a civil monster.

Oth.
Did he confess it?

Iago.
Good sir, be a man:
Think, every bearded fellow, that's but yoak'd,
May draw with you. Millions are now alive,
That nightly lye in those unproper beds,
Which they dare swear peculiar. Your case is better.
Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
To lip a Wanton in a secure couch;
And to suppose her chast. No, let me know,
And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.

Oth.
Oh, thou art wise; 'tis certain.

Iago.
Stand you a while apart,
Confine your self but in a patient list.
Whilst you were here, o'er-whelmed with your grief,
(A passion most unsuiting such a man,)
Cassio came hither. I shifted him away,
And laid good 'scuses on your ecstasie;
Bad him anon return, and here speak with me;
The which he promis'd. Do but encave your self,
And mark the fieers, 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 say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;
Or I shall say, you are all in all in spleen,
And nothing of a man.

Oth.
Dost thou hear, Iago?
I will be found most cunning in my patience;
But, dost thou hear, most bloody.

Iago.
That's not amiss;
But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw? [Othello withdraws.
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
A huswife, that, by selling her desires,
Buys her self bread and cloth. It is a creature,
That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's plague
To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one;
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 jealousie must construe
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviour,
Quite in the wrong. How do you now, Lieutenant?

Cas.
The worser, that you give me the addition,
Whose want even kills me.

Iago.
Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't:
Now, if this sute lay in Bianca's power, [speaking lower.
How quickly should you speed?

Cas.
Alas, poor caitiff!

Oth.
Look, how he laughs already. [aside.

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.
Do you intend it?

Cas.

Ha, ha, ha.

Oth.

Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?

Cas.

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

Oth.

So, so: they laugh, that win.

Iago.

Why, the Cry goes, that you shall marry her.

Cas.

Pr'ythee, say true.

Iago.

I am a very villain else.

Oth.

Have you scoar'd me? well.

Cas.

This is the monkey's own giving out: she is perswaded, 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.

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 my neck—

Oth.

Crying, “oh dear Cassio, as it were:” his gesture imports it.

Cas.

So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me, so shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha—

Oth

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

Cas.

Well, I must leave her company.

Iago.

Before me! look, where she comes.

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

Bian.

Let the Devil and his Dam haunt you! what did you mean by that same handkerchief, you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it: I must take out the work? A likely peice of work, that you should find it in your chamber, and know not who left it there. This is some minxe'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 heav'n, that should be my handkerchief.

Bian.

If you'll come to supper to night, you may; if you will not, come when you are next prepar'd 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.

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.