**IAGO** Will you think so? **OTHELL...

IAGO Will you think so?

OTHELLO Think so, Iago!

IAGO What,

To kiss in private?

OTHELLO An unauthorized kiss.

IAGO Or to be naked with her friend in bed

An hour or more, not meaning any harm?

OTHELLO Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm!

It is hypocrisy against the devil:

They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,

The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.

IAGO So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip:

But if I give my wife a handkerchief,--

OTHELLO What then?

IAGO Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord; and, being hers,

She may, I think, bestow't on any man.

OTHELLO She is protectress of her honour too:

May she give that?

IAGO Her honour is an essence that's not seen;

They have it very oft that have it not:

But, for the handkerchief,--

OTHELLO 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.

IAGO Ay, what of that?

OTHELLO That's not so good now.

IAGO 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--

OTHELLO Hath he said any thing?

IAGO He hath, my lord; but be you well assured,

No more than he'll unswear.

OTHELLO What hath he said?

IAGO 'Faith, that he did--I know not what he did.

OTHELLO What? what?

IAGO Lie--

OTHELLO With her?

IAGO With her, on her; what you will.

OTHELLO 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!--

Falls in a trance

IAGO 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!