Page:Shakespeare - First Folio Faithfully Reproduced, Methuen, 1910.djvu/845

Rh Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene, They haue it very oft, that haue it not. But for the Handkerchiefe.

Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it: Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie, As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house: Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe.

Iago. I: what of that?

Othe. That's not so good now.

Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong? Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad, Who hauing by their owne importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris, Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse But they must blab.)

Oth. Hath he said any thing?

Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd, No more then he'le vn-sweare.

Oth. What hath he said?

Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did.

Othe. What? What?

Iago. Lye.

Oth. With her?

Iago. With her? On her: what you will.

Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her, when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome: Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse, and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd, and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish) Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe? O diuell.

Iago. Worke on, My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught, And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus, (All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord? My Lord, I say: Othello. How now Cassio?

Cas. What's the matter?

Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie, This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday.

Cas. Rub him about the Temples.

Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course: If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by Breakes out to sauage madnesse Looke, he stirres: Do you withdraw your selfe a little while, He will recouer straight: when he is gone I would on great occasion, speake with you. How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head?

Othe. Dost thou mocke me?

Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen: Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man.

Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast.

Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty, And many a ciuill Monster.

Othe. Did he confesse it?

Iago. Good Sir, be a man: Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue, That nightly lye in these vnproper beds, Which they dare Sweare peculiar. Your case is better. Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock, To lip a wanton in secure Cowch; And to suppose her chast. No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe.

Oth. Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine.

Iago. Stand you a while apart, Confine your selfe but in a patient List, Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe (A passion most resulting such a man) Cassio came hither. I shifted him away, And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie, Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me, The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe, And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes That dwell in euery Region of his face. For I will make him tell the Tale anew; WHere, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath, and is againe to cope your wife. I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience, Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene, And nothing of a man.

Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago, I will be found most cunning in my Patience: But (do'st thou heare) most bloody.

Iago. That's not amisse, But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw? Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A Huswife that by selling her desires Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one) He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes. As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad: And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?

Cas. The worser, that you giue me the addition, Whose want euen killes me.

Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't: Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre, How quickely should you speed?

Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe.

Oth. Looke how he laughes already.

Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so.

Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me.

Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out.

Iago. Do you heare Cassio?

Oth. Now he importunes him To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said.

Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her. Do you intend it?

Cas. Ha, ha, ha.

Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph?

Cas. I marry. What? A customer; prythee beare Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha.

Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes.

Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her.

Cas. Prythee say true.

Iago. I am a very Villaine else.

Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well.

Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out: She is perswaded I will marry her Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise.