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!
Cassio
What’s the matter?
Iago
My lord is fall’n into an epilepsy:
This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.
Cassio
Rub him about the temples.
Iago
No, forbear;
The lethargy must have his quiet course:
If not, he foams at mouth and by and by
Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs:
Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
He will recover straight: when he is gone,
I would on great occasion speak with you.
How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?
Exit Cassio.
Othello
Dost thou mock me?
Iago
I mock you! no, by heaven.
Would you would bear your fortune like a man!