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, 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: Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, *The mandrake has a soporific quality. Possessed'st. That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! 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, 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, Oth. Had it pleased Heaven To try me with affliction; had He rain'd Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; To point his slow unmoving finger at,- Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: But there, where I have garner'd up* my heart; 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! 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: And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep; [Exit Desdemona. Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night, [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!- [Takes off his sword. * i. e.. The light of life. |