Des.
Be thou assur'd, good Cassio, I will do
All my abilities in thy behalf.

Æmil.
Good madam, do; I know, it grieves my husband,
As if the case were his^{7 note}.

Des.
O, that's an honest fellow.—Do not doubt, Cassio,
But I will have my lord and you again
As friendly as you were.

Cas.
Bounteous madam,
Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
He's never any thing but your true servant.

Des.
O, sir, I thank you: You do love my lord;
You have known him long; and be you well assur'd,
He shall in strangeness stand no farther off
Than in a politic distance.

Cas.
Ay, but, lady,
^{8 note}That policy may either last so long,
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
That, I being absent, and my place supply'd,
My general will forget my love and service.

Des.
Do not doubt that; before Æmilia here,
I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
To the last article: my lord shall never rest;
^{9 note}

Æmil.
Madam, here comes my lord.

Cas.
Madam, I'll take my leave.

Des.
Why, stay, and hear me speak.

Cas.
Madam, not now; I am very ill at ease,
Unfit for mine own purposes.

Des.
Well, do your discretion. [Exit Cassio.

Iago.
Ha! I like not that.

Oth.
What dost thou say?

Iago.
Nothing, my lord: or if—I know not what.

Oth.
Was not that Cassio, parted from my wife?

Iago.
Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think it,
That he would steal away so guilty-like,
Seeing you coming.

Oth.
I do believe, 'twas he.

Des.
How now, my lord?
I have been talking with a suitor here,
A man that languishes in your displeasure.

Oth.
Who is't, you mean?

Des.
Why, your lieutenant Cassio. Good my lord,
If I have any grace, or power to move you,
^{1 note}

Oth.
Went he hence now?

Des.
Ay, sooth; so humbled,
That he hath left part of his grief with me,
To suffer with him: Good love, call him back.

Oth.
Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time.

Des.
But shall't be shortly?

Oth.
The sooner, sweet, for you.

Des.
Shall't be to-night at supper?

Oth.
No, not to-night.

Des.
To-morrow dinner then?

Oth.
I shall not dine at home;
I meet the captains at the citadel.

Des.
Why then, to-morrow night; or tuesday morn;
Or tuesday noon, or night; or wednesday morn;—
I pray thee, name the time; but let it not
Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;
And yet his trespass, in our common reason,
(Save that, they say, ^{3 note}
the wars must make examples
Out of their best) is not almost a fault
To incur a private check: When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul,
What you could ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering on^{4 note}

To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,—

Oth.
Pr'ythee, no more: let him come when he will;
I will deny thee nothing.

Des.
Why, this is not a boon;
'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm;
Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
To your own person: Nay, when I have a suit,
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poize^{6 note}

Oth.
I will deny thee nothing:
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,—
To leave me but a little to myself.

Des.
Shall I deny you? no: Farewel, my lord.

Oth.
Farewel, my Desdemona: I will come to thee straight.

Des.
Æmilia, come:—Be it as your fancies teach you;
Whate'er you be, I am obedient. [Exit with Æmil.

Oth.
^{7 note}

But I do love thee! and ^{8 note}

Iago.
My noble lord,—

Oth.
What dost thou say, Iago?

Iago.
Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
Know of your love?

Oth.
He did, from first to last: Why dost thou ask?

Iago.
But for a satisfaction of my thought;
No further harm.

Oth.
Why of thy thought, Iago?

Iago.
I did not think, he had been acquainted with it.

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?

Iago.
Honest, my lord?

Oth.
Honest! ay, honest.

Iago.
My lord, for aught I know.

Oth.
What dost thou think?

Iago.
Think, my lord?

Oth.
Think, my lord!—By heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought^{9 note}

Iago.
My lord, you know I love you.

Oth.
I think, thou dost;
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,
Are tricks of custom; but, in a man that's just,
^{1 note}

That passion cannot rule. 9Q1243

Iago.
For Michael Cassio,—
I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest.

Oth.
I think so too.

Iago.
Men should be what they seem;
^{2 note}

Oth.
Certain, men should be what they seem.

Iago.
Why then, I think Cassio's an honest man.

Oth.
Nay, yet there's more in this:
I 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
^{3 note}

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

Iago.
I do beseech you,
^{4 note}

(As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To spy into abuses; and, oft, my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not) that your wisdom yet^{5 note}

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-ey'd monster, ^{7 note}

The meat it feeds on: That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er,
Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves^{8 note}!

Oth.
O misery!

Iago.
Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough;
^{9 note}But riches, fineless, is ^{1 note}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 resolv'd: Exchange me for a goat,
When I shall turn the business of my soul
^{2 note}To such exsuffolate 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;
^{3 note}

Iago.
I am glad of this; for now I shall have reason
To shew 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,
^{4 note}Out of self-bounty, be abus'd; look to't:
I know ^{5 note}
our country disposition well;
In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
They dare not shew their husbands; their best conscience
Is—not to leave undone, but keep unknown^{6 note}

Oth.
Dost thou say so?

Iago.
She did deceive her father, marrying you;
^{7 note}

Oth.
And so she did.

Iago.
Why, go to, then;
She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
^{8 note}

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 for ever.

Iago.
I see, this hath a little dash'd 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 mov'd;—
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech
^{9 note}To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,
Than to suspicion.

Oth.
I will not.

Iago.
Should you do so, my lord,
^{1 note}

My lord, I see you are mov'd.

Oth.
No, not much mov'd:—
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 ^{2 note}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 (hapily) repent.

Oth.
Farewel, farewel:
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, doubtless,
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

Iago.
My lord,—I would, I might entreat your honour
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,
^{3 note}You shall by that perceive him and his means:

Note, if your lady ^{4 note}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 honour.

Oth.
^{5 note}Fear not my government.

Iago.
I once more take my leave. [Exit.

Oth.
This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, ^{6 note}

^{8 note}

Must be—to loath 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 vapour of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love,
For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones;
Prerogativ'd are they less than the base:
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death;
Even then this ^{2 note}

Des.
How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders^{4 note}

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.
Why, that's with watching; 'twill away again:
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.

Oth.
^{5 note}

Des.
I am very sorry that you are not well. [Exeunt Desd. and Oth.

Æmil.
I am glad, I have found this napkin;
This was her first remembrance from the Moor:
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token,
(For he conjur'd her, she should ever keep it)
That she reserves it evermore about her,
To kiss, and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out, 9Q1246
And give it Iago:
What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I;
^{6 note}
I nothing, but to please his fantasy. Enter Iago.

Iago.
How now! what do you here alone?

Æmil.
Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.

Iago.
You have a thing for me?—it is a common thing.9Q1247

Æmil.
Ha!

Iago.
To have a foolish wife.

Æmil.
O, is that all? What will you give me now
For that same handkerchief?

Iago.
What handkerchief?

Æmil.
What handkerchief?
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
That which so often you did bid me steal.

Iago.
Hast stolen it from her?

Æmil.
No; but she let it drop by negligence;
And, ^{7 note}to the advantage, I, being here, took it up.
Look, here it is.

Iago.
A good wench; give it me.

Æmil.
What will you do with it, that you have been so earnest
To have me filch it?

Iago.
Why, what is that to you? [Snatching it.

Æmil.
If it be not for some purpose of import,
Give it me again: Poor lady! she'll run mad,
When she shall lack it.

Iago.
^{8 note}

Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ. This may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison:—
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons,
Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste;
But, with a little act upon the blood,
Burn like the mines of sulphur.—I did say so 9Q1249:— Enter Othello.
Look, where he comes! Not poppy, ^{9 note}