Which my thoughts aim’d not. Cassio’s my worthy friend:—
My lord, I see you’re mov’d.
OTHELLO
No, not much mov’d.
I do not think but Desdemona’s honest.
IAGO
Long live she so! and long live you to think so!
OTHELLO
And yet, how nature erring from itself,—
IAGO
Ay, there’s the point:—as,—to be bold with you,—
Not to affect many proposed matches,
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
Whereto we see in all things nature tends,—
Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural:—
But pardon me: I do not in position
Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgement,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And happily repent.
OTHELLO
Farewell, farewell:
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago.
IAGO
[Going.] My lord, I take my leave.
OTHELLO
Why did I marry?—This honest creature doubtless
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
IAGO
[Returning.] My lord, I would I might entreat your honour
To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
Though it be fit that Cassio have his place,—
For sure he fills it up with great ability,—
Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
You shall by that perceive him and his means:
Note if your lady strain his entertainment
With any strong or vehement importunity;
Much will be seen in that. In the meantime,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,—
As worthy cause I have to fear I am,—
And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.
OTHELLO
Fear not my government.
IAGO
I once more take my leave.
[Exit.]
OTHELLO.
This fellow’s of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
I’d whistle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black,
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have; or for I am declin’d
Into the vale of years,—yet that’s not much,—
She’s gone; I am abus’d, and my relief
Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapor of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others’ uses. Yet, ‘tis the plague of great ones:
Prerogativ’d are they less than the base;
‘Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
Even then this forkèd plague is fated to us
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!—
I’ll not believe’t.
[Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia.]
DESDEMONA
How now, my dear Othello!
Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.
OTHELLO
I am to blame.
DESDEMONA
Why do you speak so faintly?
Are you not well?
OTHELLO
I have a pain upon my forehead here.
DESDEMONA
Faith, that’s with watching; ‘twill away again;
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.
OTHELLO
Your napkin is too little;
[He puts the handkerchief from him, and she drops it.]
Let it alone. Come, I’ll go in with you.
DESDEMONA
I am very sorry that you are not well.
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.]
EMILIA
I am glad I have found this napkin;
This was her first remembrance from the Moor.
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo’d me to steal it; but she so loves the token,—
For he conjur’d her she should ever keep it,—
That she reserves it evermore about her
To kiss and talk to. I’ll have the work ta’en out,
And give’t Iago:
What he will do with it heaven knows, not I;
I nothing but to please his fantasy.
[Re-enter Iago.]
IAGO
How now! what do you here alone?
EMILIA
Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.
IAGO
A thing for me!—it is a common thing.
EMILIA
Ha!
IAGO
To have a foolish wife.
EMILIA
O, is that all? What will you give me now
For that same handkerchief?
IAGO
What handkerchief?
EMILIA
What handkerchief!
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
That which so often you did bid me steal.
IAGO
Hast stol’n it from her?
EMILIA
No, faith;