Othello and Desdemona have just gone out--to do the honours at the Dinner Table to the generous Islanders. He must have been a strange Chairman--for though not yet absolutely mad, his soul was sorely changed. Perhaps he made some apology, and was not at that Dinner at all--perhaps it was never eaten--but we lose sight of him for a little while; and Emilia, who remains behind, picks up the fatal handkerchief, and, with a strange wilfulness, or worse, says-- "I'll have the work ta'en out. And give't Iago." Iago snatches it from her--and in soliloquy says-- "I will in Cassio's lodgings lose this napkin, And let him find it." "This may do something,-- The Moor already changes with the poison: Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons, Which at the first, are scarce found to distaste; But, with a little, act upon the blood, Burn like the mines of sulphur.--I did say so:-- _Enter_ OTHELLO. Look! where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine _thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday_." Then follows, without break, all the rest of this dreadful Third Scene. The first dose of the poison--the second, and third, and fourth--are all given on one and the same day. The mineral has gnawed through all the coats of the stomach--and _He has sworn to murder Her_--all in one day. We have Iago's word for it. _Yesterday_ his sleep was sweet--how happy he was then we can imagine--how miserable he is _now_ we see--"what a difference to _him_," and in him, between Saturday and Sunday! "O, blood! Iago, blood! * * * * * Now by yond' marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow, I here engage my words. _Iago._ Do not rise yet. [_Kneels._ Witness, you ever-burning lights above! You elements, that clip us round about! Witness, that here Iago doth give up, The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody work soever." TALBOYS. Thou Great original Short-Timeist! Unanswerable art Thou. But let us look at the close of this dreadful Third Act. _Othello._ I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to't: Within _these three days_ let me hear thee say, That Cassio's not alive. _Iago._ My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request: But let _her_ live. _Othello._ Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her! Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw, To furnish me with some swift means of death To the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant. _Iago._ I am your own for ever.