Enter Desdemona and Æmilia. Def. My Lord, what is your Will? Oth. Let me fee your Eyes; look in my Face. Def. 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 dispatch. [Exit Emil. I understand a Fury in your Words. Def. Your Wife, my Lord; your true and loyal Wife. Def. Heav'n doth truly know it. Oth. Heav'n truly knows, That thou art false as Hell. Def. To whom, my Lord? With whom? How am I false ? Oth. Ah, Desdemon, away, away, away Def. Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep? Am I the Motive of these Tears, my Lord ? Why I have loft him too. Oth. Had it pleas'd Heav'n, To try me with Affliction, had he rain'd The Fountain from the which my Current runs, Def. I hope my noble Lord efteems me Honest. Would thou'dst never been born! Des. Alas, what ignorant Sin have I committed? Def. Oh Heav'n forgive us. Oth. I cry you Mercy, then. 1 I took you for that cunning Whore of Venice, That married with Othello. You, Mistress, Enter Æmilia. That have the Office oppofite to Saint Peter, [Exit. Amil. Alas, what does this Gentleman conceive ? How do you, Madam? How do you, my good Lady? Des. Faith, half afleep. Amil. Good Madam, what's the matter with my Lord? Des. With whom? Amil. Why, with my Lord, Madam ? Des. Who is thy Lord ? Amil. He that is yours, sweet Lady. I cannot weep; nor answers have I none, But what should go by Water. Prethee to night, And call thy Husband hither. Amil. Here's a change indeed. [Exit. Def. 'Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet How have I been behav'd, that he might stick The smallest Opinion on my least mifuse ? Enter Jago, and Æmilia. Jago. What is your Pleasure, Madam ? How is't with you? Def. I cannot tell; those that do teach your Babes, : Jago. What's the Matter, Lady ? Def. Am I that Name, Jago ? Def. I do not know, I am sure I am none such. 1 Fage. Jago. Beshrew him for't; how comes this trick upon him? Des. Nay, Heav'n doth know. / Amil. I will be hang'd if some eternal Villain, Some bufie and infinuating Rogue, pany ? What Place? what Time? what Form? what Likelyhood? The Moor's abus'd by some most villanous Knave, Jago. Speak within Door. Emil. Or fie upon them! Some such 'Squire he was That turn'd your Wit, the feamy fide without, And made you to suspect me with the Moor. Jago. You are a Fool; go to. Def. Alas, Fago, What shall I do to win my Lord again ? * Kneeling. T To do the Act, that might the Addition earn, The Business of the State do's him offence. Jago. It is but fo, I warrant, Hark how these Instruments fummon to supper; [Trumpets. The Messenger of Venice stays the Meat; Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well. [Exeunt Desdemona and Æmilia. Enter Rodorigo. How now, Rodorigo? Rod. I do not find That thou deal'st justly with me. Jago. What in the contrary ? Rod. Every day thou doft'st me with fome device, Fago, and rather as it feems to me now, keep'st from me all conveniency, than suppliest me with the leaft Advantage of hope; I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor am I yet perswaded to put up in Peace, what already I have foolishly fuffer'd. Jago. Will you hear me, Rodorigo? Rod. I have heard too much; and your words and performances are no kin together. Jago. You charge me most unjustly. Rod. With naught but Truth: I have wasted my self out of my means. The Jewels you have had from me to deliver Desdemona, would half have corrupted a Votarift. you have told me she hath receiv'd them, and return'd me expectations and comforts of fudden respect, and acquaintance, but I find none, Jago. Well, go to; very well, Rod. Very well, go to; I cannot go to, Man, nor 'tis not very well; nay, I think it is Scurvy; and begin to find my self fob'd in it. Jago. Very well. Rod. I tell you, 'tis not very well; I will make my felf known to Desdemona. If she will return me my Jewels, I will give over my Suit, and repent my unlawful Solicitation, If not, affure your self, I will feek Satisfaction of you. Fago |