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第17章 Exeunt SCENE III. The garden of the castle.(1)

Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA DESDEMONA Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf. EMILIA Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband, As if the case were his. DESDEMONA O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio, But I will have my lord and you again As friendly as you were. CASSIO Bounteous madam, Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, He's never any thing but your true servant. DESDEMONA I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord:

You have known him long; and be you well assured He shall in strangeness stand no further off Than in a polite distance. CASSIO Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstance, That, I being absent and my place supplied, My general will forget my love and service. DESDEMONA Do not doubt that; before Emilia here I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it To the last article: my lord shall never rest;

I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience;

His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;

I'll intermingle every thing he does With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio;

For thy solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away. EMILIA Madam, here comes my lord. CASSIO Madam, I'll take my leave. DESDEMONA Why, stay, and hear me speak. CASSIO Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease, Unfit for mine own purposes. DESDEMONA Well, do your discretion.

Exit CASSIO

Enter OTHELLO and IAGO IAGO Ha! I like not that. OTHELLO What dost thou say? IAGO Nothing, my lord: or if--I know not what. OTHELLO Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? IAGO Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it, That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing you coming. OTHELLO I do believe 'twas he. DESDEMONA How now, my lord!

I have been talking with a suitor here, A man that languishes in your displeasure. OTHELLO Who is't you mean? DESDEMONA Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, His present reconciliation take;

For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgment in an honest face:

I prithee, call him back. OTHELLO Went he hence now? DESDEMONA Ay, sooth; so humbled That he hath left part of his grief with me, To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. OTHELLO Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time. DESDEMONA But shall't be shortly? OTHELLO The sooner, sweet, for you. DESDEMONA Shall't be to-night at supper? OTHELLO No, not to-night. DESDEMONA To-morrow dinner, then? OTHELLO I shall not dine at home;

I meet the captains at the citadel. DESDEMONA Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;

On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn:

I prithee, name the time, but let it not Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;

And yet his trespass, in our common reason--

Save that, they say, the wars must make examples Out of their best--is not almost a fault To incur a private cheque. When shall he come?

Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul, What you would ask me, that I should deny, Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio, That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time, When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,-- OTHELLO Prithee, no more: let him come when he will;

I will deny thee nothing. DESDEMONA Why, this is not a boon;

'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit To your own person: nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise and difficult weight And fearful to be granted. OTHELLO I will deny thee nothing:

Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself. DESDEMONA Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord. OTHELLO Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight. DESDEMONA Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;

Whate'er you be, I am obedient.

Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA OTHELLO Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again. IAGO My noble lord-- OTHELLO What dost thou say, Iago? IAGO Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady, Know of your love? OTHELLO He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask? IAGO But for a satisfaction of my thought;

No further harm. OTHELLO Why of thy thought, Iago? IAGO I did not think he had been acquainted with her. OTHELLO O, yes; and went between us very oft. IAGO Indeed! OTHELLO Indeed! ay, indeed: discern'st thou aught in that?

Is he not honest? IAGO Honest, my lord! OTHELLO Honest! ay, honest. IAGO My lord, for aught I know. OTHELLO What dost thou think? IAGO Think, my lord! OTHELLO Think, my lord!

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 even now, thou likedst not that, When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?

And when I told thee he was of my counsel In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed!'

And didst contract and purse thy brow together, As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me, Show me thy thought. IAGO My lord, you know I love you. OTHELLO I think thou dost;

And, for I know thou'rt 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 delations, working from the heart That passion cannot rule. IAGO For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn I think that he is honest. OTHELLO I think so too. IAGO Men should be what they seem;

Or those that be not, would they might seem none! OTHELLO Certain, men should be what they seem. IAGO Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man. OTHELLO Nay, yet there's more in this:

I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. IAGO Good my lord, pardon me:

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