REPUTATION.

Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls:

[nothing

Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something '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.

THE TORTURES OF JEALOUSY

Iago. Look, where he, comes !

[Enter Othello

Not poppy, nor mandragora,*

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou owed'st+ yesterday.

Oth.

To me?

Ha ha! false to me?

Iago. Why, how now, general? no more of that. Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack I swear 'tis better to be much abused,

Than but to know't a little.

Iago.

How now, my lord?

Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust?

I saw it 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 stolen,
Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at all.
Iago. 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. O now, for ever,
Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell, content!
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,

*The mandrake has a soporific quality.

Possessed'st.
N

That make ambition virtue !

O, farewell!

Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner; and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewell, Othello's occupation's gone!
Iago. Is it possible!-My lord

Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore; Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;

[Taking him by the throat.

Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst better have been born a dog,
Than answer my waked wrath.

HIS PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF DESDEMONA.

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?

I understand a fury in your words,

But not the words.

Oth. Why, what art thou?

Des.

And loyal wife.

Oth.

Your wife, my lord: your true

Come, swear it, damn thyself;

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double-damn'd, Swear-thou art honest.

Des.

Heaven doth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as hell.

Des. To whom, my lord? with whom?

false ?

Oth. O Desdemona! away! away! away!

How am I

Des. Alas, the heavy day!-Why do you weep? Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord?

If, haply, you my father do suspect,

An instrument of this your calling back,

Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.

Oth.

Had it pleased Heaven

To try me with affliction; had He rain'd
All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;

Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience; but (alas!) to make me
A fix'd figure, for the hand of Scorn

To point his slow unmoving finger at,-
O! O!

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:

But there, where I have garner'd up* my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life;

The fountain from the which my current runs,

Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!

Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in!-Turn thy complexion there!
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim ;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!

Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,

* Treasured up.

That the sense aches at thee.-'Would thou hadst ne'er

Oth. Ay: you did wish that I would make her turn:
Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,

And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
And she's obedient, as you say,-obedient,—
Very obedient-proceed you in your tears.—
Concerning this, sir,-O well-painted passion!
I am commanded home :-get you away;
I'll send for you anon.-Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice.-Hence, avaunt!

[Exit Desdemona.

Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night,
I do entreat that we may sup together.
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.-Goats and monkies!

[Exit.

OTHELLO'S IRRESOLUTION TO MURDER DESDEMONA.

SCENE. A Bedchamber: Desdemona in bed, asleep. A light

burning.

It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,

Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!-
It is the cause.-
-Yet I'll not shed her blood;
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.

[Takes off his sword.
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out the light :*

* i. e.. The light of life.