Page 1532 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3
P. 1532

Given to captivity me and my hopes,
               I should have found in some part of my soul
               A drop of patience; but, alas, to make me
               A fixed figure, for the time of scorn [55]

               To point his slow unmoving fingers at... oh, oh.
               Yet could I bear that too, well, very well:
               But there, where I have garner’d up my heart,
               Where either I must live, or bear no life,

               The fountain, from the which my current runs, [60]
               Or else dries up, to be discarded thence,
               Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads
               To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there;

               Patience, thy young and rose-lipp’d cherubin,
               I here look grim as hell! [65]



              DESDEMONA
               I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.



              OTHELLO
               O, ay, as summer’s flies, are in the shambles,
               That quicken even with blowing:

               O thou black weed, why art so lovely fair?
               Thou smell’st so sweet, that the sense aches at thee, [70]
               Would thou hadst ne’er been born!



              DESDEMONA
               Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?



              OTHELLO
               Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,

               Made to write “whore” on?... What, committed?
               Committed! O thou public commoner! [75]
               I should make very forges of my cheeks,
               That would to cinders burn up modesty,

               Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
               Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks,
               The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, [80]
               Is hush’d within the hollow mine of earth,
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