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;

200

In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience

Is not to leave 't undone, but keep't unknown.

Oth. Dost thou say so?

Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying you;

Oth.

Iago.

And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks,

She loved them most.

And so she did.

Why, go to then;

Oth.

She that so young could give out such a seeming,

To seel her father's eyes up close as oak

210

He thought 'twas witchcraft-but I am much to blame;

I humbly do beseech you of your pardon

For too much loving you.

I am bound to thee for ever.

lago. I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.

Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.

Iago.

I' faith, I fear it has.

I hope you will consider what is spoke

Comes from my love; but I do see you're 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

220

As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend

My lord, I see you're moved.

Oth.

No, not much moved:

I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

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

lago. Ay, there's the point: as-to be bold with you

Not to effect many proposed matches

Of her own clime, complexion and degree,

230

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 judgement,
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.

240

lago. [Going] My lord, I take my leave.
Oth. Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
Iago. [Returning] My lord, I would I might entreat your

honour

To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
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 awhile,
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,

250

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. Fear not my government.
Iago. I once more take my leave.

Oth. This fellow 's of exceeding honesty,

Des.

[Exit.

And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard, 260
Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings,
I'ld 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 vapour of a dungeon,

271

Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others' uses. 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:

Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia.

If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!
I'll not believe 't.

How now, my dear Othello!

Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.

280

Oth. I am to blame.

Des.

Why do you speak so faintly?

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 she drops it.

Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.

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

[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.

Emil. 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 conjured 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,
And give't Iago: what he will do with it

Heaven knows, not I;

I nothing but to please his fantasy.

Re-enter Iago.

lago. How now! what do you here alone?

290

300

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

lago. A thing for me? it is a common thing

Emil. Ha!

lago. To have a foolish wife.

Emil. O, is that all? What will you give me now

For that same handkerchief?

Iago.

What handkerchief?

Emil. What handkerchief!

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

lago. Hast stol'n it from her?

Emil. No, faith; she let it drop by negligence,

Iago.

And, to the advantage, I being here took 't up.
Look, here it is.

A good wench; give it me.

310

Emil. What will you do with 't, that you have been so

Iago.

earnest

To have me filch it?

[Snatching it] Why, what's that to you ?

Emil. If 't be not for some purpose of import,

Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad
When she shall lack it.

Iago. Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it.
Go, leave me.

[Exit Emilia. 320

I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles light as air
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 :
Look, where he comes!

Re-enter Othello.

Not poppy, nor mandragora, 330

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,

Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep