Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsie syrups of the world
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep,
Which thou hadst yesterday.

Oth.
Ha! false to me!

Jago.
Why, how now, General; no more of that.

Oth.
Avant, be gone; thou'st set me on the rack
I swear 'tis better to be much abus'd,
Than but to know a little.

Jago.
How, my lord?

Oth.
What sense had I, in her stol'n hours of lust?
I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me;

I slept the next night well; was free and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.

Jago.
I am sorry to hear this.

Oth.
I had been happy, if the general camp,
(Pioneers and all,) had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. Oh now, for ever
Farewel the tranquil mind! Farewel content!
Farewel the plumed troops, and the big war,
That make ambition virtue! oh farewel!
Farewel the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And oh you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's occupation's gone!

Jago.
Is't possible, my lord?

Oth.
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it: give me the ocular proof, [Catching hold on him.
Or by the worth of ^{f note} mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.

Jago.
Is't come to this?

Oth.
Make me to see't, or at the least, so prove it,
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,
To hang a doubt on: or woe upon thy life!

Jago.
My noble lord—

Oth.
If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horrors head, horrors acccumulate;
Do deeds to make heav'n weep, all earth amaz'd;

For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.

Jago.
Oh grace! oh heav'n defend me!
Are you are a man? have you a soul? or sense?
God be wi' you: take mine office. Wretched fool,
That ^{g note}liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!
Oh monstrous world! take note, take note, oh world,
To be direct and honest, is not safe.
I thank you for this profit, and from hence
I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.

Oth.
Nay stay—thou should'st be honest—

Jago.
I should be wise, for honesty's a fool,
And loses what it works for.

‡ ^noteOth.
By the world,
I think my wife is honest, and think she is not;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not;
I'll have some proof. ^{h note}Her name, that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
As mine own face. If there be cords or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating steams,
I'll not endure't. Would I were satisfied!

Jago.
I see Sir, you are eaten up with passion;
I do repent me that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?

Oth.
Would? nay, and will.

Jago.
And may; but how? how satisfied, my lord?
Would you ^{i note}be supervisor, grosly gape on?
Behold her topp'd?

Oth.
Death and damnation! oh!

Jago.
It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring 'em to that prospect: damn them then,
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
More than their own. What then? how then?

What shall I say? where's satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this,
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
If imputation and strong circumstances
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you satisfaction, you might have't.

Oth.
Give me a living reason she's disloyal.

Jago.
I do not like the office;
But sith I'm entred in this cause so far,
Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately,
And being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep—
There are a kind of men, so loose of soul
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs;
One of this kind is Cassio:
In sleep I heard him say, Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!
And then, Sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand,
Cry—oh sweet creature! and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluckt up kisses by the roots
And grew upon my lips; then lay his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh and kiss, and then
Cry, cursed fate! that gave thee to the Moor.

Oth.
Oh monstrous! monstrous!

Jago.
This was but his dream.

Oth.
But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion,
'Tis a shrewd doubt, tho' it be but a dream.

Jago.
And this may help to thicken other proofs
That do demonstrate thinly.

Oth.
I'll tear her all to peices.

Jago.
Nay but be wise; yet we see nothing done;
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,
Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand?

Oth.
I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.

Jago.
I know not that; but such a handkerchief,
(I'm sure it was your wife's,) did I to-day
See Cassio wipe his beard with.

Oth.
If it be that—

Jago.
If it be that, or any, if 'twas hers,
It speaks against her with the other proofs.

Oth.
Oh that the slave had forty thousand lives!
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.
Now do I see 'tis true.—Look here, Jago,
All my fond love thus do I blow to heav'n:
'Tis gone;—
Arise black vengeance from the hollow hell!
Yield up, oh love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! swell bosom with thy fraught,
For 'tis of aspicks tongues.

Jago.
Yet be content.

Oth.
Oh blood, blood, blood—

Jago.
Patience I say; your mind may change.

Oth.
Never, Jago. ‡ ^noteLike the Pontick sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course,
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontick, and the Hellespont:
Even so my bloody thoughts with violent pace
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
'Till that a capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up—Now by yond marble heav'n,
In the due rev'rence of a sacred vow; [He kneels.
I here engage my words—

Jago.
Do not rise yet: [Jago kneels.
Witness you ever-burning lights above!
You elements that clip us round about!
Witness, that here Jago doth give up
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
To wrong'd Othello's service. Let him command,
^{k note}Not to obey shall be in me remorse,
What bloody business ever.

Oth.
I greet thy love,
Not with vain thanks but with acceptance bounteous,
And will upon the instant put thee to't:
Within these three days let me hear thee say,
That Cassio's not alive.

Jago.
My friend is dead;
'Tis done at your request. But let her live.

Oth.
Damn her, lewd minx! oh damn her, damn her!
Come go with me apart, I will withdraw
To furnish me with some swift means of death
For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.

Jago.
I am your own for ever. [Exeunt.

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