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But jealous, for they're jealous. It is a Monster
Begot upon it felf, born on it felf.

Def. Heav'n keep the Monster from Othello's mind.
Amil. Lady, Amen.

Def. I will go feek him. Caffio, walk hereabout;
If I do find him fit, I'll move your fuit,
And feek to effect it to my uttermoft.
Caf. I humbly thank your Ladyship.

Enter Bianca.

Bian. 'Save you, Friend Caffio.

Caf. What makes you from home?
How is it with you, my moft fair Bianca?
Indeed, fweet Love, I was coming to your House.
Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Caffio.
What? keep a Week away? Seven days and nights?
Eightscore eight Hours? And Loves abfent Hours
More tedious than the Dial, eightscore times ?
Oh weary reck'ning!

Caf. Pardon me, Bianca:

I have this while with leaden thoughts been preft,
But I fhall in a more continuate time

Strike off this Score of Abfence.

Sweet Bianca,

[Exit.

[Giving her Desdemona's Handkerchief.

Take me this work out."

Bian. Oh Caffio, whence came this? This is fome Token from a newer Friend; To the felt-abfence, now I feel a Caufe: Is't come to this? Well, well.

Caf. Go to, Woman;

Throw your vild gueffes in the Devil's Teeth,

From whence you have them.

You are jealous now

That this is from fome Mistress, fome remembrance;

No, in good troth, Bianca.

Bian. Why, whofe is it?

Caf. I know not neither; I found it in my Chamber;

I like the work well; e'er it be demanded,

As like enough it will, I would have it copied :
Take it, and do't, and leave me for this time.
Bian. Leave you? wherefore?

Caf. I do attend here on the General,

And

And think it no Addition, nor my wish
To have him fee me woman'd.
Bian. Why, I pray you?

Caf. Not that I love you not.

Bian. But that you do not love me;
I pray you bring me on the way a little,
And fay, if I fhall fee you foon at Night?

Caf. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
For I attend here. But I'll fee you foon.

Bian. 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanc'd. [Exeunt.

A C T IV.

SCENE I.

SCENE A Room of State.

Ill

Enter Othello, and Jago.

you think fo?

Fago. We Think fo, Fago &

Óth.

Jago. What, to kifs in private?

Oth. An unauthorized kifs?

Jago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed, An Hour or more, not meaning any harm?

Oth. Naked in bed, fage, and not mean harm?

It is Hypocrifie against the Devil :

They that mean virtuously, and yet do fo,

The Devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt Heav'n.
Fago. If they do nothing, 'tis a venial flip :
But if I give my Wife a Handkerchief

Oth. What then?

Jago. Why then, 'tis hers, my Lord, and being hers, She may, I think, beftow't on any Man.

Oth. She is Protectress of her Honour too; May the give that ?

Jago. Her Honour is an Effence that's not feen, They have it very oft that have it not.

But for the Handkerchief

Oth. By Heav'n I would moft gladly have forgot it;

Thou

1

Thou faidft, Oh, it comes o'er my Memory,
As doth the Raven o'er the infectious Houfe,
Boading to all, he had my Handkerchief.
Jago. Ay, what of that?

Oth. That's not fo good now.

Fago. What if I had faid, I had feen him do you wrong?
Or heard him fay, as Knaves be fuch abroad,
Who having by their own importunate fuit,

Or voluntary Dotage of fome Mistress,
Convinced or fupplied them, cannot chufe
But they muft blab.

Oth. Hath he faid any thing?

Jago. He hath my Lord, but be you well affur'd, No more than he'll unfwear.

Oth. What hath he faid?

Jago. Why, that he did ---- I know not what he did

Oth. What? what?

Jago. Lye

Oth. With her?

Jago. With her? on her

what you will

Oth. Lye with her! lye on her! we fay, lye on her, when they be-lye her. Lye with her! that's fulfom: Hand

kerchief Confeffions

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and be hang'd for his Labour

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Handkerchief to confefs, Firft, to be hang'd, and then to Confefs ---- I tremble at it--- Nature would not inveft her felf in fuch fhadowing Paffion, without some instruction. It is not words that fake me thus pish

Ears and Lips
Handerchief!
Jago. Work on,

is't poffible!
O Devil

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Confefs !

Nofes,

[Falls in a Trance.

My Medicine works; thus credulous Fools are caught;
And many worthy, and chaft Dames even thus,
All guiltless meet reproach; what hoa! my Lord!
My Lord, I fay, Othello.

How now, Caffio?

Enter Caffio.

Caf. What's the matter !

Jago. My Lord is faln into an Epilepfie,

This is the fecond Fit; he had one Yesterday.

Caf. Rub him about the Temples.

Fago.

Jago. The Lethargy must have his quiet courfe;
If not, he foams at Mouth, and by and by
Breaks out to faváge madnefs; look, he firs;
Do you withdraw your felf a little while,
He will recover ftraight; when he is gone,
I would on great occafion fpeak with you.
How is it, General? Have you not hurt your
Oth. Doft thou mock me ?

[Exit Caffio:

Head.

Jago. I mock you not, by Heav'n ;
Would you would bear your Fortune like a Man.
Oth. A horned Man's a Monster and a Beast.
Jago. There's many a Beaft then in a populous City,
And many a civil Monfter.

Oth. Did he confess it?

Jago. Good Sir, be a Man:

Think every bearded Fellow that's but yoak'd
May draw with you. There's Millions now alive,
That nightly lye in thofe unproper beds,

Which they dare fwear peculiar. Your caufe is better.
Oh, 'is the fpight of Hell, the Fiends Arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a fecure Couch;

"

And to fuppofe her chaft. No, let the know,
And knowing what I am, I know what the fhall be.
Oth. Oh, thou art wife; 'tis certain.

Jago. Stand you a while apart,
Confine your felf but in a patient Lift.

Whil'ft you were here, o'er-whelmed with your Grief
(A Paffion most resulting fuch a Man)
Caffio came hither. I fhifted him away,
And laid good 'Scufes on your Ecftafie,
Bad him anon return, and here fpeak with me,
The which he promis'd. Do but encave your felf,
And mark the Fleers, the Gybes and notable Scorns,
That dwell in every 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 again to cope your Wife.
I fay, but mark his Gefture. Marry Patience,
Or I fhall fay y'are a'l in all in Spleen,
And nothing of a Man.

Oth.

Oth. Doft thou hear, Jago,

I will be found moft cunning in my patience;
But, doft thou hear, moft bloody.

Jago. That's not amifs;

But yet keep time in all. "Will you withdraw.

Now will I queftion Caffio of Bianca,

A Hufwife, that by felling her defires,

[Othello withdraws.

Buys her felf Bread and Cloth. It is a Creature
That dotes on Caffio, as 'tis the Strumpet's plague
To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one;
He, when he hears of her, cannot restrain
From the excess of Laughter. Here he comes.
Enter Caffio.

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As he fhall fmile, Othello fhall go mad;
And his unbookish Jealoufie muft conftrue,
Poor Caffio's Smiles, Geftures and light Behaviours
Quite in the wrong. How do you, Lieutenant?
Caf. The worfer, that you gave me the Addition,
Whose want even kills me.

Fago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are fure on't:
Now, if this Sute lay in Bianca's Dower,

How quickly fhould you speed?

Caf. Alas, poor Caitiff.

Oth. Look how he laughs already.

[Speaking lower.

Jago. I never knew a Woman love Man fo.
Caf. Alas, poor Rogue, I think indeed she loves me.
Oth. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out
Jago. Do you hear, Caffio?

Oth. Now he importunes him

To tell it o'er: Go to, well faid, well faid.
Jago. She gives it out, that you fhall marry her.
Do you intend it?

Caf. Ha, ha, ha.

Oth. Do ye triumph, Roman? do you triumph?
Caf. I marry!---What? a Cuftomer; prithee bear
Some Charity to my Wit, do not think it
So unwholfome, Ha, ha, ha.

Oth. So, fo: They laugh that win.

Jago. Why, the cry goes, that you shall marry her. VOL. V.

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Caf

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