Othello

OTHELLO.
No, not much mov'd.
I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

IAGO.
Long live she so! and long live you to think so!

OTHELLO.
And yet, how nature erring from itself,--

IAGO.
Ay, there's the point:--as,--to be bold with you,--
Not to affect many proposed matches,
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
Whereto we see in all things nature tends,--
Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural:--
But pardon me: I do not in position
Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgement,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And happily repent.

OTHELLO.
Farewell, farewell:
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago.

IAGO.
[Going.] My lord, I take my leave.

OTHELLO.
Why did I marry?--This honest creature doubtless
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

IAGO.
[Returning.] My lord, I would I might entreat your honour
To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
Though it be fit that Cassio have his place,--
For sure he fills it up with great ability,--
Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
You shall by that perceive him and his means:
Note if your lady strain his entertainment
With any strong or vehement importunity;
Much will be seen in that. In the meantime,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,--
As worthy cause I have to fear I am,--
And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.

OTHELLO.
Fear not my government.

IAGO.
I once more take my leave.

[Exit.]

OTHELLO.
This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black,
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have; or for I am declin'd
Into the vale of years,--yet that's not much,--
She's gone; I am abus'd, and my relief
Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapor of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones:
Prerogativ'd are they less than the base;
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
Even then this forked plague is fated to us
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!--
I'll not believe't.

[Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia.]

DESDEMONA.
How now, my dear Othello!
Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.

OTHELLO.
I am to blame.

DESDEMONA.
Why do you speak so faintly?
Are you not well?

OTHELLO.
I have a pain upon my forehead here.

DESDEMONA.