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A drop of patience : but (alas !) to make me
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, That the sense aches at thee-'Would, thou had'st
ne'er been born! Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ?
Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write whore upon! What committed ! Committed !- thou public commoner ! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds.-What committed ! Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks; The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear it: What committed !Impudent strumpet !
Des. By heaven, you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a strumpet ?
Des. No, as I am a christian :
Oth. What, not a whore ?
Oth. I cry you mercy, then ;
Re-enter EMILIA. That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keep the gate of hell ; You ! you ! ay, you ! We have done our course; there's money for your
pains; I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
[Erit. Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive ?How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
Des. 'Faith, half asleep.
Des. have Do not talk to me, Emilia ;
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets,-remember ;-
Re-enter EMILIA, with Iago. Iago. What is your pleasure, madam ? How is it
Des. I cannot tell. Those, that do teach young
Iago. What's the matter, lady?
Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Des. Am I that name, Iago ?
Emil. He call'd her, whore ; a beggar, in his drink, Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.
Iago. Why did he so?
am none such. Iago. Do not weep, do not weep; Alas, the day!
Emil. Has she forsook so many noble matches, , Her father, and her country, and her friends, To be call'd--whore? would it not make one weep?
Des. It is my wretched fortune. lago. Beshrew him for it!
How comes this trick upon him?
Des. Nay, heaven doth know.
Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Iago. Fye, there is no such man; it is impossible.
bones! Why should he call her, whore? who keeps her com
What place? what time? what form ? what likeli
Iago. Speak within door.
Emil. O, fye upon him! some such squire he was, That turn'd your wit the seamy side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
Iago. You are a fool; go to.
Des. O good Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him ; for, by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed ; Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them in any other form;
Iago. I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour ;
Des. If 'twere no other,
[Exeunt DESDEMONA and Emilia.
Enter Roderigo. How now, Roderigo ?
Rod. I do not find, that thou deal’st justly with me. Iago. What in the contrary?
Rod. Every day thou doff'st me with some device, Iago; and rather (as it seems to me now,) keep'st me from all conveniency, than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will, indeed, no longer endure it: Nor am I yet persuaded, to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered.
Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo ?