That nightly lie in those unproper beds, be. Stand you apart; Confine yourself but in a patient list. Whilst you were here, ere while mad with your grief, Dost thou hear, Iago? That's not amiss; But yet keep time in all. Will Will you withdraw? [Othello withdraw's. Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A housewife, that, by selling her desires, Re-enter Cassio. As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad; Cas. The worser, that you give me the addition, Whose want even kills me. Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure of't. Now, if this suit lay in Bianca's power, [Speaking lower. How quickly should you speed? Cas. Alas, poor caitiff! Oth. Look, how he laughs already! [Aside. Iago. I never knew a woman love man so. Cas. Alas, poor rogue! I think, i'faith, she loves me. Oth. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out. [Aside. Iago. Do you hear, Cassio? Oth. Now he importunes him To tell it o'er: Go to; well said, well said. [Aside. Iago. She gives it out, that you shall marry Do you intend it? her: Cas. Ha, ha, ha! Oth. Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph? 1 [Aside. Cas. I marry her!-what? a customer! I pr’ythee, bear some charity to my wit; do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha! Oth. So, so, so, so: They laugh, that win. [Aside. Iago. ’Faith, the cry goes, that you shall marry her. Cas. Pr’ythee, say true. Cas. This is the monkey's own giving out: she is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise. Oth. Iago beckons me; now he begins the story. [Aside. Cas. She was here even now; she haunts me in every place. I was, the other day, talking on the sea-bank with certain Venetians; and thither comes the bauble; by this hand, she falls thus about my neck;— Oth. Crying, O dear Cassio! as it were: his gesture imports it. [Aside. Cas. So hangs and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales, and pulls me: ha, ha, ha! Oth. Now he tells, how she pluck'd him to my chamber: O, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to. [Aside. Cas. Well, I must leave her company. Iago. Before me! look, where she comes. Enter Bianca. Cas. 'Tis such another fitchew! marry, a perfumed one.—What do you mean by this haunting of me? Bian. Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you mean by that same handkerchief, you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the whole work?-A likely piece of work, that you should find it in your chamber, and not know who left it there! This is some minx's token, and I must take out the work? There,give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever you had it, I'll take out no work on't. Cas. How now, my sweet Bianca ? how now? how now? Oth. By heayen, that should be my handkerchief! [Aside. Bian. An you'll come to supper to-night, you may: an you will not, come when you are next prepared for. [Erit. Iago. After her, after her. Cas. 'Faith I must, she'll rail in the street else. Iago. Will you sup there? Cas. 'Faith, I intend so. Iago. Well, I may chance to see you; for 'I would very fain speak with you. Cas. Pr’ythee, come; Will you? Iago. Go to; say no more. [Exit Cassio. Oth. How shall I murder him, Iago? Iago. Did you perceive how he laugh'd at his vice? Oth. O, Iago! Iago. Yours, by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman, your wife! she gave it him, and he hath given it his whore. Oth. I would have him nine years a killing:A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman! Iago. Nay, you must forget that. Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damn'd to-night; for she shall not live: No, my heart is turn'd to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks. Iago. Nay, that's not your way. Oth. Hang her! I do but say what she is :-So delicate with her needle!-An admirable musician! O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!-Of so high and plenteous wit and invention !- Iago. She's the worse for all this. Oth. O, a thousand, a thousand times :- And then, of so gentle a condition! Iago. Ay, too gentle. Oth. Nay, that's certain: But yet the pity of it, lago!–0, lago, the pity of it, Iago! Iago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes near nobody. Oth. I will chop her into messes :—Cuckold me! |