honour too:
May she give that?
Her honour is an essence that's not seen;
They have it very oft that have it not:
But, for the handkerchief,--
By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it.
Thou said'st, it comes o'er my memory,
As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
Boding to all--he had my handkerchief.
Ay, what of that?
That's not so good now.
What,
If I had said I had seen him do you wrong?
Or heard him say,--as knaves be such abroad,
Who having, by their own importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose
But they must blab--
Hath he said any thing?
He hath, my lord; but be you well assured,
No more than he'll unswear.
What hath he said?
'Faith, that he did--I know not what he did.
What? what?
Lie--
With her?
With her, on her; what you will.
Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when
they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome.
--Handkerchief--confessions--handkerchief!--To
confess, and be hanged for his labour;--first, to be
hanged, and then to confess.--I tremble at it.
Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing
passion without some instruction. It is not words
that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips.
--Is't possible?--Confess--handkerchief!--O devil!--
Work on,
My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught;
And many worthy and chaste dames even thus,
All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord!
My lord, I say! Othello!
How now, Cassio!
What's the matter?
My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy:
This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.
Rub him about the temples.
No, forbear;
The lethargy must have his quiet course:
If not, he foams at mouth and by and by
Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs:
Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
He will recover straight: when he is gone,
I would on great occasion speak with you.
How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?
Dost thou mock me?
I mock you! no, by heaven.
Would you would bear your fortune like a man!
A horned man's a monster and a beast.
There's many a beast then in a populous city,
And many a civil monster.
Did he confess it?
Good sir, be a man;
Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked
May draw with you: there's