I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love: what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charged withal) I won his daughter with. Her father loved me; oft invited me; From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes, I ran it through, even from my boyish days, Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach; And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, These things to hear, Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house affairs would draw her thence; And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke *My behaviour. + Parts. Intention and attention were once synonymous. She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore,-in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; "Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: She wish'd she had not heard it: yet she wish'd That Heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me; And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake; And I lov'd her that she did pity them. May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! As hell's from heaven! If I were now to die By Heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something: I heard thee say but now, thou likedst not that, When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like? In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, Indeed? Iago. My lord, you know I love you. I think thou dost; And, for I know thou art full of love and honesty, And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: For such things, in a false disloyal knave, Are tricks of custom; but, in a man that's just, They are close denotements, working from the heart, REPUTATION. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: [nothing Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something And makes me poor indeed. THE TORTURES OF JEALOUSY Iago. Look, where he, comes ! [Enter Othello Not poppy, nor mandragora,* Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Oth. To me? Ha ha! false to me? Iago. Why, how now, general? no more of that. Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack I swear 'tis better to be much abused, Than but to know't a little. Iago. How now, my lord? What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust? Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, The mandrake has a soporific quality. Possessed'st. N That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore; Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof; [Taking him by the throat. Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, Thou hadst better have been born a dog, Than answer my waked wrath. |