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Des. What, is he angry ?


Are you wise?

'May be, the letter mov'd him;

For, as I think, they do command him home,

Deputing Cassio in his government.

Des. By my troth, I am glad on't.



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My lord

How, sweet Othello? [Striking her.

I have not deserv'd this.

Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in


Though I should swear I saw it: "Tis very much
Make her amends, she weeps.


O devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile :Out of my sight!



I will not stay to offend you.

Lod. Truly, an obedient lady :

I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

Oth. Mistress,

Des. " My lord?


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What would you with her, sir?

Lod. Who, I, my lord?.


Oth. Ay; you did wish, that I would make her


Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,

• If that the earth could teem, &c.] Shakspeare here alludes to the fabulous accounts of crocodiles. Each tear, says Othello, which falls from the false Desdemona, would generate a crocodile, the most deceitful of all animals, and whose own tears are proverbially fallacious.

• Each drop she falls-] To fall is here a verb active.

And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
And she's obedient, as you say,-obedient,-
Very obedient;--Proceed you in your tears.-
Concerning this, sir,-O well-painted passion!
I am commanded home :-Get you away;
I'll send for you anon.-Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice ;-Hence, avaunt!
Cassio shall have my place. And,-sir, to-night,
I do entreat that we may sup together.
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.-Goats and mon-

Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
Call-all-in-all sufficient?This the noble nature
Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither graze, nor pierce?
He is much chang'd.
Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?
Jago. He is that he is; I may not breathe my


What he might be,-if, what he might, he is not,I would to heaven, he were.


What, strike his wife! go. 'Faith, that was not so well; Yet 'would I



That stroke would prove the worst.


Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new-create this fault?


Is it his use?

Alas, alas !

It is not honesty in me, to speak


What I have seen and known. You shall observe him;
And his own courses will denote him so,
That I may save my speech: Do but go
And mark how he continues. La S
Lod. I am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him.



A Room in the Castle.


Oth. You have seen nothing then?

Emil. Nor ever heard; nor ever did suspect. Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together. Emil. But then I saw no harm; and then I heard Each syllable, that breath made up between them. Oth. What, did they never whisper?


Never, my lord. Oth. Nor send you out o'the way? Emil.


Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?

Emil. Never, my lord.


That's strange.

Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other, Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. If any wretch hath put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There's no man happy; the purest of their wives Is foul as slander.


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Bid her come hither:-go.


She says enough;-yet she's a simple bawd,
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
A closet-lock-and-key of villainous secrets:


yet she'll kneel, and pray; I have seen her do't.

Re-enter EMILIA, with DESDEMONA.

Des. My lord, what is your will?


Pray, chuck, come hither.

Let me see your eyes;

Des. What is your pleasure?


Look in my face.

What horrible fancy's this?
Oth. Some of your function, mistress;


Leave procreants alone, and shut the door;
Cough, or cry-hem, if any body come:
Your mystery, your mystery;-nay, despatch.

[Exit EMILIA. 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?


And loyal wife.


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


Swear-thou art honest.


Heaven doth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as


Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? How am

I false?

Oth. O Desdemona!-away! away! away! 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, Why, I have lost him too.


To try me with affliction;

Had it pleas'd heaven had he rain'd

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All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience: but (alas!) to make me
A fixed figure, for the time of scorn

To point his slow unmoving finger at,
O! O!

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart ;*
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
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!

Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!5

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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!-O thou publick 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;


garner'd up my heart;] That is, treasured up; the gars ner and the fountain are improperly conjoined.

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turn thy complexion there! &c.] At such an object do thou, patience, thyself change colour; at this do thou, even thou rosy cherub as thou art, look as grim as hell,

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