Shakespeare's First Folio Part 633

Iago. Stand you a while apart, Confine your selfe but in a patient List, Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe (A pa.s.sion most resulting such a man) Ca.s.sio came hither: I s.h.i.+fted him away, And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie, Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me, The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe, And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes That dwell in euery Region of his face.

For I will make him tell the Tale anew; Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath, and is againe to cope your wife.

I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience, Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene, And nothing of a man

Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago, I will be found most cunning in my Patience: But (do'st thou heare) most b.l.o.o.d.y

Iago. That's not amisse, But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw?

Now will I question Ca.s.sio of Bianca, A Huswife that by selling her desires Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature That dotes on Ca.s.sio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one) He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes.

Enter Ca.s.sio.

As he shall smile, Oth.e.l.lo shall go mad: And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue Poore Ca.s.sio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?

Cas. The worser, that you giue me the addition, Whose want euen killes me

Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't: Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre, How quickely should you speed?

Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe

Oth. Looke how he laughes already

Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so

Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me

Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out

Iago. Do you heare Ca.s.sio?

Oth. Now he importunes him To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said

Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her.

Do you intend it?

Cas. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph?

Cas. I marry. What? A customer; prythee beare Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes

Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her

Cas. Prythee say true

Iago. I am a very Villaine else

Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well

Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out: She is perswaded I will marry her Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise

Oth. Iago becomes me: now he begins the story

Ca.s.sio. She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery place. I was the other day talking on the Seabanke with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck

Oth. Crying oh deere Ca.s.sio, as it were: his iesture imports it

Ca.s.sio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me: So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber: oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dogge, I shall throw it to

Ca.s.sio. Well, I must leaue her companie

Iago. Before me: looke where she comes.

Enter Bianca.

Cas. 'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one?

What do you meane by this haunting of me?

Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there.

This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke?

There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had it, Ile take out no worke on't

Ca.s.sio. How now, my sweete Bianca?

How now? How now?

Othe. By Heauen, that should be my Handkerchiefe

Bian. If you'le come to supper to night you may, if you will not come when you are next prepar'd for.

Exit

Iago. After her: after her

Cas. I must, shee'l rayle in the streets else

Iago. Will you sup there?

Ca.s.sio. Yes, I intend so

Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very faine speake with you

Cas. Prythee come: will you?

Iago. Go too; say no more

Oth. How shall I murther him, Iago

Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice?

Oth. Oh, Iago

Iago. And did you see the Handkerchiefe?

Oth. Was that mine?

Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him and, he hath giu'n it his wh.o.r.e

Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing: A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman?

Iago. Nay, you must forget that