Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Othello, and Iago.
Iago. Will you thinke so? Oth. Thinke so, Iago? Iago. What, to kisse in priuate? Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse? Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed, An houre, or more, not meaning any harme? Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme? It is hypocrisie against the Diuell: They that meane vertuously, and yet do so, The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen
Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip: But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe
Oth. What then? Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers, She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man
Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too: May she giue that? Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene, They haue it very oft, that haue it not. But for the Handkerchiefe
Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it: Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie, As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house: Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe
Iago . I: what of that? Othe. That's not so good now
Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong? Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad, Who hauing by their owne importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris, Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse But they must blab.) Oth. Hath he said any thing? Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd, No more then he'le vn-sweare
Oth. What hath he said? Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did
Othe. What? What? Iago. Lye
Oth. With her? Iago. With her? On her: what you will
Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her, when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome: Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse, and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd, and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish) Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe? O diuell.
Falls in a Traunce.
Iago. Worke on, My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught, And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus, (All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord? My Lord, I say: Othello. Enter Cassio.
How now Cassio? Cas. What's the matter? Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie, This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday
Cas. Rub him about the Temples
Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course: If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres: Do you withdraw your selfe a little while, He will recouer straight: when he is gone, I would on great occasion, speake with you. How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head? Othe. Dost thou mocke me? Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen: Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man
Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast
Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty, And many a ciuill Monster
Othe. Did he confesse it? Iago. Good Sir, be a man: Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue, That nightly lye in those vnproper beds, Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better. Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch; And to suppose her chast. No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe