How now, Cassio?

Cas.
What's the matter?

Iago.
My Lord is fal'n into an Epilepsy,
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 yourself 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 heaven;
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 yok'd,
May draw with you. Millions are now alive,
That nightly lie ^{2 note}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 chaste. 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 yourself but in a patient ^{3 note}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 ecstasy;
Bade him anon return, and here speak with me;
The which he promis'd. Do but ^{4 note}encave yourself,

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 say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;
^{5 note}

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 housewife, that, by selling her desires,
Buys herself 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.

Previous section

Next section