When we do quicken. Desdemona comes;

Enter Desdemona and Emilia.

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

How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.

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. 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 it drops.
Let it alone. Come, I'll
Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.

[Exeunt Oth. and Des. 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 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, · And give it Iago: What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I; I nothing, but to please his fantasy.

in with you.

go

Enter Iago. Iago. How now! what do you here alone? Emil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you. Iago. A thing for me:-- it is a common thing. Emil. Ha ! Iago. 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.

Iago. Hast stolen it from her?

Emil. No, faith; she let it drop by negligence; And, to the advantage, I, being here, took’t up.

. Look, here it is.

Iago. A good wench; give it me.
Emil. What will you do with it, that you have

been so earnest
To have me filch it?
Iago.
Why, what's that to you?

(Snatching it.
Emil. 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. Be not you known of't; I have use for

it. Go, leave me.

[Erit Emilia, 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:-

Enter Othello.

Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandra

gora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Oth.

Ha! ha! false to me? 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 abus’d,
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,
Farewel the tranquil mind! farewel content!
Farewel the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! O, farewel!
Farewel 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,
Farewel! 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 been better have been born a dog, Than answer my wak'd wrath. Iago.

Is it come to this? Oth. Make me to see it; 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!

Iago. My noble lord,

Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me, Never pray more: abandon all remorse; On horror's head horrors accumulate: Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz’d, For nothing canst thou to damnation add, Greater than that. Iago.

O grace! O heaven defend me! Are you a man? have you a soul, or sense?

God be wi' you; take mine office. wretched

fool, That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest, is not safe.I thank you for this profit; and, from hence, I'll love no friend, since loye breeds such offence.

Oth. Nay, stay:--Thou should'st be honest.

Iago. I should be wise; for honesty's a fool,
And loses that it works for.
Oth.

By the world,
I think my wife be honest, and think she is not;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not;
I'll have some proof: 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 streams,
I'll not endure it.—Would, I were satisfied !

Iago. 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, I will. Iago. And may: But, how? how satisfied, my

lord? Would

you,

the supervisor, grossly gape on? Behold her tupp'd ? Oth.

Death and damnation! (! Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, To bring them to that prospect: Damn them then, If ever mortabeyes do see them bolster, More than their own! What then? how then? What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?