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 poize 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 my felf.

Def. Shall I deny you? no: farewel, my lord. Oth. Farewel, my Defdemona, I'll come ftrait. Def. Emilia, come; be, as your fancies teach you : Whate'er you be, I am obedient. [Exeunt,

Manent Othello, and Iago.

Oth. Excellent Wench!

foul, (22)

Perdition catch my

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

Chaos is come again.

Iago. My noble lord,

Oth. What doft thou fay, Iago?

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

Oth. He did, from firft to laft: why doft thou ask?
Iago. But for a fatisfaction of my thought,

No farther harm.

Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?

lago. I did not think, he'd been acquainted with it,

(22) Excellent Wretch! Perdition catch my Soul,

But I do love thee; &c.] Tho' all the printed Copies concur in this Reading, I think, it is very reasonably to be fufpected. Othello is exclaiming here with Admiration and rapturous Fondness: but Wretch can scarce be admitted to be used, unless in Compaffion or Contempt. I make no question, but the Poet wrote;

Excellent Wench!

-Perdition catch my Soul, &c.

It is to be obferv'd, that, in SHAKESPEARE'S time, Wench, Lass, and Girl were not used in that low and vulgar Acceptation as they are at this time of day; but very frequently with Dignity.

Oth.

Oth. Oh, yes, and went between us very oft.
Iago. Indeed!

Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed. Difcern'ft thou aught in

that?

Is he not honeft ?

Iago. Honeft, my lord ?

Oth. Honeft? ay, honest.

Iago. My lord, for aught I know.
Oth. What doest thou think?

Iago. Think, my lord!

Oth. Think, my lord! why, by heav'n, thou echo'ft

me;

As if there were some monster in thy thought,

Too hideous to be fhewn. Thou doft mean something :
I heard thee fay but now, thou lik’dft not that,
When Caffio left my Wife. What did❜st not like?
And when I told thee, he was of my counfel,
In my whole courfe of wooing; thou cry'dft, indeed?
And didft contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadft shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: if thou doft love me,
Shew me thy thought.

Iago. My lord, you know, I love you.
Oth. I think, thou doeft:

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

Are tricks of cuftom; but, in a man that's just,
They're cold 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.

Jago. Men fhould be what they seem.

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

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

I pray thee, fpeak to me as to thy thinkings,

As

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

Iago. Good my lord, pardon me.

Tho I am bound to every act of duty,

I am not bound to that, all flaves are free to ;
Utter my thoughts!-Why, fay, they're vile and false;
As where's that Palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
But fome uncleanly apprehenfions

Keep leets and law-days, and in feffions fit

With meditations lawful?

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

Iago. I do befeech you,

Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guefs,
(As, I confefs, it is my nature's plague
To fpie into abufe; and oft my jealousie
Shapes faults that are not;) I intreat you then,
From one that fo imperfectly conceits,

Your wisdom would not build your felf a trouble
Out of my scattering 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 slave 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. I'll know thy thoughts

Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor fhall not, whilft 'tis in my cuftody.

Oth. Ha!

Iago. Oh, beware, my lord, of jealoufie; It is a green-ey'd monfter, which doth mock

The

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 endlefs, is as poor as winter,

To him that ever fears he fhall be poor.

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

Oth. Why? why is this?

Think'ft thou, I'd make a life of jealoufie?
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 exufflicate and blown furmifes,

Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous,
To fay, my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of fpeech, 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 jealoufie.

lago. I'm glad of this; for now I shall have reason
To fhew the love and duty that I bear you
With franker fpirit. Therefore, as I'm bound,
Receive it from me. I fpeak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife, obferve her well with Caffio;
Wear your eye, 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 heav'n fee the pranks,

They dare not fhew their husbands; their best conscience Is not to leav't undone, but keep't.unknown.

Oth. Doft thou fay fo?

lago.

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 Seeming
To feal her father's eyes up, close as oak-

He thought, 'twas witchcraft-but I'm much to blame :
I humbly do befeech you of your pardon,

For too much loving you.

Oth. I'm bound to you for ever.

Iago. I fee, this hath a little dash'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 ftrain 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 Success,

Which my thoughts aim not at.

friend.

My lord, I fee, you're mov'd

Oth. No, not much mov'd

Caffio's my worthy

I do not think, but Desdemona's honeft.

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

Iago. Ay, there's the point;

with you)

Not to affect many propofed matches

as (to be bold

Of her own clime, complexion and degree,

Whereto we see in all things Nature tends:

Foh! one may smell, in fuch, a will most rank,
Foul difproportions, thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in pofition
Diftinctly speak of her; tho' I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
VOL. VIII

N

And,