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Out of their best, is not almost a fault

To incur a private check. When fhall he come ?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my foul,

What you could ask me, that I would deny,
Or ftand fo mammering on? What! Michael Caffe,
That came a wooing with you, and many a time,
When I have spoke of you difpraifingly,

Hath ta'en your part-to have fo much to do
To bring him in? Trust me I could do much

Otb. Pr'ythee, no more. Let him come when he will,

I will deny thee nothing.

Def. Why, this is not a boon.

'Tis as I fhould entreat you wear your gloves,

Or feed on nourishing meats, or keep you warm ;
Or fue to you, to do peculiar profit

To your own perfon. Nay, when I have fuit,
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It fhall be full of poife and difficulty,

And fearful to be granted.

Oth. I will deny thee nothing.:

Whereon I do befeech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.

Def. Shall I deny you? No. Farewel, my Lord.
Oth. Farewel, my Desdemona; I'll come straight.
Def. Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach
Whate'er you be, I am obedient.

Oth. Excellent wretch!

Perdition catch- my

But I do love thee; and when I love thee not,

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Oth. What doft thou fay, lago?

you:

[Exeunt. y foul,

Iago. Did Michael Caffio, when you woo'd my lady,
Know of your love?

Otb. He did, from firft to laft. Why dost thou ask?
Iago. But for a fatisfaction of my thought;

No farther harm.

Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?

Jago. I did not think he had been acquainted with it.
Oth. Oh, yes, and went between us very oft.

Iago. Indeed!

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Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed. Difcern'st thou aught in that?

Is he not honest?

Iago. Honeft, my Lord?

Oth. Honeft! ay honeft.

Iago. My Lord, for aught I know.

Oth. What doft thou think?

Iago. Think, my Lord!

Oth. Think, my Lord! Why doft thou echo me;
As if there were fome monster in thy thought,

Too hideous to be fhewn? Thou doft mean fomething;
I heard thee fay but now, thou lik'ft not that,
When Caffio left my wife. What didst not like ?
And when I told thee he was of my counsel,
In my whole courfe of wooing, thou criedft, indeed!
And didft contract and purfe thy brow together,
As if thou then hadft fhut up in thy brain

Some horrible conceit. If thou doft love me,
Shew me thy thought.

lago. My Lord, you know I love you..

Oth. I think thou doft:

And for I know thou art full of love and honefty,
And weigh'ft thy words before thou giv'ft them breath,
Therefore thefe ftops of thine fright me the more:
For fuch things, in a falfe difloyal knave,

Are tricks of cuftom; but, in a man that's juft,
They're close dilations working from the heart,
That paffion cannot rule.

Iago. For Michael Caffio,

I dare be fworn, I think, that he is honeft.
Oth. I think fo too.

Iago. Men fhould be what they seem ;

Or, thofe that be not, 'would they might feem none !
Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem!

Iago. Why then, I think, Caffio's an honeft man.
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this;

I pray thee speak to me as to thy thinkings,

As thou doft ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts
The worlt of words.

Iago. Good my Lord, pardon me.

Though I am bound to every act of duty,

I am not bound to that all flaves are free to.

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Utter my thoughts!-Why, fay, they are vile and false;
As where's that palace whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast fo pure,
But fome uncleanly apprehenfions

Keep leets and law-days, and in feffions fit
With meditations lawful?

Oth. Thou doft confpire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but think'ft him wrong'd, and mak’st his ear
A ftranger to thy thoughts.

Iago. I do befeech you,

Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,
As, I confefs, it is my nature's plague
To fpy into abufe; and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not; I entreat you then,
From one that fo improbably conceits,

Your wifdom would not build yourself a trouble
Out of my fcattering and unfure obfervance..
It were not for your quiet nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honefty, and wisdom,.
To let you know my thoughts..

Oth. What doft thou mean ?

Iago. Good name in man and woman, dear my Lord Is the immediate jewel of their fouls.

Who fteals my purfe, fteals trash; 'tis fomething, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been flave to thousands: But he that filches from me my good name,.

Robs me of that which not enriches him,

And makes me poor indeed!.

Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.

lago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;

Nor fhall not, whilft 'tis in my cuftody.

Oth. Ha!

lago. Oh, beware, my Lord, of jealoufy;
It is a green-eyed monster, which doth make
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in blifs,.
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But, oh! what damned minutes tells he o'er,
Who doats, yet doubts; fufpects, yet ftrongly loves!
Oth. Oh mifery!

Jago. Poor and content is rich, and rich enough;
But riches fineless is as poor as winter,

Το

To him that ever fears he shall be poor.

Good heaven! the fouls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!

Oth. Why? why is this?

Think'ft thou I'd make a life of jealoufy,

To follow ftill the changes of the moon
With fresh fufpicions? No; to be once in doubt,
Is once to be refolv'd. Exchange me for a goat,
When I fhall turn the bufinefs of my foul
To fuch exfuffolate and blown furmises,
Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous,
To fay my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, fings, plays, and dances well:
Where virtue is, these are most virtuous.
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt; .

For fhe had eyes, and chofe me.
No, Iago,
I'll fee before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,
Away at once with love or jealousy.

Iago. I am glad of this; for now I fhall have reafon
To fhew the love and duty that I bear you

With franker fpirit. Therefore, as I am bound,
Receive it from me. I fpeak not yet of proof:
Look to your wife, obferve her well with Caffio;
Wear your eyes thus; not jealous nor fecure.
I would not have your free and noble nature
Out of felf-bounty be abus'd; look to't.
I know our country difpofition well;

In Venice they do let heaven fee the pranks

They dare not show their husbands: their best confcience Is not to leave 't undone, but keep 't unknown.

Oth. Doft thou fay fo?

Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying you; And when the feem'd to shake, and fear your looks, She lov'd them most.

Oth. And fo fhe did.

Iago. Go to, then;

She that, fo young, could give out fuch a feeming
To feal her father's eyes up, close as oak-

He thought 'twas witchcraft---But I'm much to blame:

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I hum

I humbly do befeech you of your pardon,

For too much loving you.

Oth. I'm bound to thee for ever.

lago. I fee this hath a little dafh'd your spirits. Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.

lago. Trust me, I fear it has :

I hope you will confider what is spoke

Comes from my love. But I do fee you're mov'd—
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech

To groffer iffues, nor to larger reach,

Than to fufpicion.

Oth. I will not.

lago. Should you do fo, my Lord,

My fpeech would fall into fuch vile fuccefs,

As my thoughts aim not at. Caffio's my worthy friend. My Lord, I fee you're mov'd.

Oth. No, not much mov'd

I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

Iago. Long live fhe fo! and long live you to think fo! Oth. And yet, how nature erring from itself

Iago. Ay, there's the point; as, to be bold with you, Not to affect many propofed matches

Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
Whereto we fee in all things Nature tends,
Foh! one may fmell, in fuch, a will most rank,
Foul disproportions, thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in pofition
Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And, haply, fo repent.

Oth. Farewel, farewel!

If more thou doft perceive, let me know more: Set on thy wife t' obferve. Leave me, lago. lago. My Lord, I take my leave.

Oth. Why did I marry?-

This honeft creature, doubtless,

Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

[Going.

Iago. My Lord, I would I might entreat your Honour To fcan this thing no farther; leave it to time: Although 'tis fit that Casio have his place,

For

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