Iago. He is much changed.

Lod. Are his wits fafe? is he not light of brain? lago. He's what he is; I may not breathe my cenfure.

What he might be, if what he might he is not,
I would to Heaven he were !

Lod. What, ftrike his wife!

Iago. 'Faith, that was not fo well; yet 'would I That itroke would prove the worst.

Lod. Is it his ufe?

Or did the letters work upon his blood,

And new-create this fault?

lago. Alas, alas!

It is not honefty in me to speak

[knew

What I have seen and known. You shall obferve him, And his own courfes will denote him fo,

That I may fave my speech. Do but go after,

And mark how he continues.

Lod. I'm forry that I am deceived in him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA.

Oth. You have feen nothing then?

Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.

How chances mock,

And changes fill the cup of alteration. 2 Henry IV. Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer. Titus Andronicus. So Milton, a very ftudious imitator of Shakespeare's manBer and expreffion;

Befides, what hope the never-ending flight

Of future days may bring, what chance, what change,
Worth waiting.
Par. Loft, Book II.

In brief fententious precepts while they treat
Of fate, and chance, and change, in human life.

Par, Regained, Book IV.

A a z

Oth. Yes, you have feen Caffio and her together. Emil. But then I faw no harm; and then I heard Each fyllable that breath made up between them. Oth. What? did they never whisper?

Emil. Never, my Lord.

Oth. Nor fend you out o' th' way y?

Emil. Never.

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

Amil. Never, my Lord.
Oth. That's ftrange!

bofom.

Mmil. I durft, my Lord, to wager fhe is honeft, Lay down my foul at ftake: if you think other, Remove your thought, it doth abufe your If any wretch hath put this in your head, Let Heaven requite it with the ferpent's curfe! For if he be not honeft, chafte and true,

There's no man happy; the pureft of their wives Is foul as flander.

Oth. Bid her come hither, go.
[Exit Emilia.
She fays enough; yet fhe's a fimple bawd,
That cannot fay as much. This is a fubtle whore,
A clofet lock and key of villainous fecrets;
And yet fhe'll kneel, and pray: I've feen her do't.
Enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA.

Def. My Lord, what is your will?
Oth. Pray you, chuck, come hither.
Def. What is your pleasure?

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 fhut the door,
Cough, or cry, hem, if any body come.
Your mystery, your mystery; nay, dispatch.
[Exit Emilia.

Def. Upon my knee, what doth your fpeec I understand a fury in your words,

But not your words.

Oth. Why? what art thou?

[import?

Def. Your wife, my Lord; your true and loyal wife: Oth. Come, fwear it; damn thyfelf; left, being like one

Of Heaven, the devils themfelves fhould fear to feize thee.

Therefore be double-damned; fwear thou art honeft.
Def. Heaven doth truly know it.
Oth. Heaven truly knows

That thou art falfe as hell.

Def. To whom, my Lord? With whom? how am I falfe?

Oth. Ah, Defdemona! away, away, awayDef. Alas, the heavy day! why do you weep? Am I the motive of thefe tears, my Lord?

If, haply, you my father do suspect

An inftrument of this your calling back,

Lay not your blame on me; if you have loft him, Why, I have loft him too.

Oth. Had it pleafed Heaven

To try me with affliction, had he rained
All kind of fores and shames on my bare head,
Steeped me in poverty to the very lips,
Given to captivity me and my hopes;

I fhould have found in fome place of my foul
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of Scorn
To point his flow and moving finger at------
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well.
But there, where I have garnered up my heart,
Where either I must live, or bear no life,
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or elfe dries up; to be difcarded thence;

Or keep it as a ciftern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in: Turn thy complexion there, (47)

Patience, thou young and rofe-liped cherubin;
Ay, there, look grim as hell.

Def. I hope, my noble Lord efteems me honest. Oth. Oh, ay, as fummer flies are in the fhambles, That quicken even with blowing. Oh thou weed! Who art fo lovely fair, and smellest so sweet, That the fenfe akes at thee-----

'Would thou hadst ne'er been born!

Def. Alas, what ignorant fin have I committed? Oth. Was this fair paper, this moft goodly book Made to write whore upon? what, what committed? Committed?-ho, thou public commoner!

[ted?

I fhould make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modefty,
Did I but speak thy deeds. What, what commit-
Heaven ftops the nofe at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kifles all it meets,

Is hufhed within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear't. What committed?-Impu-
dent ftrumpet!

Def. By Heaven you do me wrong.
O. Are not you a ftrumpet?

(47)

-Turn thy complexion there,

Patience, thou young and rof - ip'd cherubin;

1here look grim as hell The Poet makes an apo ftrophe to Patience as a goddefs; and is fupposed to make Othello bid her turn her complexion and cherubin's looks, because he looks as grim as hell upon the occafion. But I am perfuaded, the text has been all along flightly corrupted, by miftaking I in the laft verfe for the pronoun of the first perfon: whereas, in our Author's days, it likewife stood for the adverb of affirming. As I have reformed the text, a proper contraft is reftored; and Patience is urged not only to turn her complexion, to drop the rofy looks of a cherub, but to put on the grim afpe of a fiend.

Def. No, as I am a Christian.
If to preferve this vellel for my Lord
From any other, foul, unlawful touch,
Be not to be a ftrumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a whore?
Def. No, as I fhall be saved.
Oth. Is't poffible?

Def. Oh, Heav'n forgive us!
Oth. I cry you mercy, then.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello------

You, miftrefs,

Enter EMILIA.

That have the office oppofite to St Peter,

And keep the gate of hell; you! you! ay, you! We have done our course, there's money for your

pains,

I pray you turn the key, and keep our counsel.

[Exit. Emil Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? How do you, Madam? how do you, my good Lady? Def. 'Faith, half asleep.

Emil. Good Madam, what's the matter with my Lord?

Def. With whom?

Emil. Why, with my Lord, Madam ?
Def. Who is thy Lord?

Emil. He that is yours, fweet Lady.

Def. I have none; do not talk to me, Æmilia.

I cannot weep; nor anfwer have I none,
But what fhould go by water. Pray, to-night
Lay on my bed my wedding-fheets, remember;
And call thy hufband hither.

Emil. Here's a change indeed!

[Exit.

Def. 'Tis meet I should be used fo, very meet:.