Act II. Scene II.


A Street.
   
 
Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People following.
   
  Her.  It is Othello’s pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph; some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him; for, besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!  [Exeunt.   

Act II. Scene III.


A Hall in the Castle.
   
 
Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants.
   
  Oth.  Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:   
Let’s teach ourselves that honourable stop,      4
Not to outsport discretion.   
  Cas.  Iago hath direction what to do;   
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye   
Will I look to ’t.      8
  Oth.        Iago is most honest.   
Michael, good night; to-morrow with your earliest   
Let me have speech with you. [To DESDEMONA.] Come, my dear love,   
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;     12
That profit’s yet to come ’twixt me and you.   
Good night.  [Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants.   
 
Enter IAGO.
   
  Cas.  Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.     16
  Iago.  Not this hour, lieutenant; ’tis not yet ten o’ the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona, who let us not therefore blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her, and she is sport for Jove.   
  Cas.  She’s a most exquisite lady.   
  Iago.  And, I’ll warrant her, full of game.   
  Cas.  Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicate creature.     20
  Iago.  What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of provocation.   
  Cas.  An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.   
  Iago.  And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?   
  Cas.  She is indeed perfection.     24
  Iago.  Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine, and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello.   
  Cas.  Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.   
  Iago.  O! they are our friends; but one cup: I’ll drink for you.   
  Cas.  I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.     28
  Iago.  What, man! ’tis a night of revels; the gallants desire it.   
  Cas.  Where are they?   
  Iago.  Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.   
  Cas.  I’ll do ’t; but it dislikes me.  [Exit.     32
  Iago.  If I can fasten but one cup upon him,   
With that which he hath drunk to-night already,   
He’ll be as full of quarrel and offence   
As my young mistress’ dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,     36
Whom love has turn’d almost the wrong side out,   
To Desdemona hath to-night carous’d   
Potations pottle deep; and he’s to watch.   
Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,     40
That hold their honours in a wary distance,   
The very elements of this war-like isle,   
Have I to-night fluster’d with flowing cups,   
And they watch too. Now, ’mongst this flock of drunkards,     44
Am I to put our Cassio in some action   
That may offend the isle. But here they come.   
If consequence do but approve my dream,   
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.     48
 
Re-enter CASSIO, with him MONTANO, and Gentlemen. Servant following with wine.
   
  Cas.  ’Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.   
  Mon.  Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier.   
  Iago.  Some wine, ho!
           And let me the canakin clink, clink;
   And let me the canakin clink:
         A soldier’s a man;
         A life’s but a span;
   Why then let a soldier drink.
     52
Some wine, boys!   
  Cas.  ’Fore God, an excellent song.   
  Iago.  I learned it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting; your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander,—drink, ho!—are nothing to your English.   
  Cas.  Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?     56
  Iago.  Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit ere the next pottle can be filled.   
  Cas.  To the health of our general!   
  Mon.  I am for it, lieutenant; and I’ll do you justice.   
  Iago.  O sweet England!
           King Stephen was a worthy peer,
     His breeches cost him but a crown;
   He held them sixpence all too dear,
     With that he call’d the tailor lown.
   He was a wight of high renown,
     And thou art but of low degree:
   ’Tis pride that pulls the country down,
     Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
     60
Some wine, ho!   
  Cas.  Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.   
  Iago.  Will you hear ’t again?   
  Cas.  No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God’s above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.     64
  Iago.  It’s true, good lieutenant.   
  Cas.  For mine own part,—no offence to the general, nor any man of quality,—I hope to be saved.   
  Iago.  And so do I too, lieutenant.   
  Cas.  Ay; but, by your leave, not before me; the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let’s have no more of this; let’s to our affairs. God forgive us our sins! Gentlemen, let’s look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk: this is my ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left hand. I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough.     68
  All.  Excellent well.   
  Cas.  Why, very well, then; you must not think then that I am drunk.  [Exit.   
  Mon.  To the platform, masters; come, let’s set the watch.   
  Iago.  You see this fellow that is gone before;     72
He is a soldier fit to stand by Cæsar   
And give direction; and do but see his vice;   
’Tis to his virtue a just equinox,   
The one as long as the other; ’tis pity of him.     76
I fear the trust Othello puts him in,   
On some odd time of his infirmity,   
Will shake this island.   
  Mon.        But is he often thus?     80
  Iago.  ’Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:   
He’ll watch the horologe a double set,   
If drink rock not his cradle.   
  Mon.        It were well     84
The general were put in mind of it.   
Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature   
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,   
And looks not on his evils. Is not this true?     88
 
Enter RODERIGO.
   
  Iago.  [Aside to him.] How now, Roderigo!   
I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.  [Exit RODERIGO.   
  Mon.  And ’tis great pity that the noble Moor     92
Should hazard such a place as his own second   
With one of an ingraft infirmity;   
It were an honest action to say   
So to the Moor.     96
  Iago.        Not I, for this fair island:   
I do love Cassio well, and would do much   
To cure him of this evil. But hark! what noise?  [Cry within, ‘Help! Help!’   
 
Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO.
    100
  Cas.  You rogue! you rascal!   
  Mon.        What’s the matter, lieutenant?   
  Cas.  A knave teach me my duty!   
I’ll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.    104
  Rod.  Beat me!   
  Cas.        Dost thou prate, rogue?  [Striking RODERIGO.   
  Mon.  [Staying him.] Nay, good lieutenant;   
I pray you, sir, hold your hand.    108
  Cas.        Let me go, sir,   
Or I’ll knock you o’er the mazzard.   
  Mon.        Come, come; you’re drunk.   
  Cas.  Drunk!  [They fight.    112
  Iago.  [Aside to RODERIGO.] Away, I say! go out, and cry a mutiny.  [Exit RODERIGO.   
Nay, good lieutenant! God’s will, gentlemen!   
Help, ho! Lieutenant! sir! Montano! sir!   
Help, masters! Here’s a goodly watch indeed!  [Bell rings.    116
Who’s that that rings the bell? Diablo, ho!   
The town will rise: God’s will! lieutenant, hold!   
You will be sham’d for ever.   
 
Re-enter OTHELLO and Attendants.
    120
  Oth.        What is the matter here?   
  Mon.  ’Zounds! I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.   
  Oth.  Hold, for your lives!   
  Iago.  Hold, ho, lieutenant! Sir! Montano! gentlemen!    124
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?   
Hold! the general speaks to you; hold for shame!   
  Oth.  Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?   
Are we turn’d Turks, and to ourselves do that    128
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?   
For Christian shame put by this barbarous brawl;   
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage   
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.    132
Silence that dreadful bell! it frights the isle   
From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?   
Honest Iago, that look’st dead with grieving,   
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.    136
  Iago.  I do not know; friends all but now, even now,   
In quarter and in terms like bride and groom   
Devesting them for bed; and then, but now,—   
As if some planet had unwitted men,—    140
Swords out, and tilting one at other’s breast,   
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak   
Any beginning to this peevish odds,   
And would in action glorious I had lost    144
Those legs that brought me to a part of it!   
  Oth.  How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?   
  Cas.  I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.   
  Oth.  Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;    148
The gravity and stillness of your youth   
The world hath noted, and your name is great   
In mouths of wisest censure: what’s the matter,   
That you unlace your reputation thus    152
And spend your rich opinion for the name   
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.   
  Mon.  Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger;   
Your officer, Iago, can inform you,    156
While I spare speech, which something now offends me,   
Of all that I do know; nor know I aught   
By me that’s said or done amiss this night,   
Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,    160
And to defend ourselves it be a sin   
When violence assails us.   
  Oth.        Now, by heaven,   
My blood begins my safer guides to rule,    164
And passion, having my best judgment collied,   
Assays to lead the way. If I once stir,   
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you   
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know    168
How this foul rout began, who set it on;   
And he that is approv’d in this offence,   
Though he had twinn’d with me—both at a birth—   
Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,    172
Yet wild, the people’s hearts brimful of fear,   
To manage private and domestic quarrel,   
In night, and on the court and guard of safety!   
’Tis monstrous. Iago, who began ’t?    176
  Mon.  If partially affin’d, or leagu’d in office,   
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,   
Thou art no soldier.   
  Iago.        Touch me not so near;    180
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth   
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;   
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth   
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.    184
Montano and myself being in speech,   
There comes a fellow crying out for help,   
And Cassio following with determin’d sword   
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman    188
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause;   
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,   
Lest by his clamour, as it so fell out,   
The town might fall in fright; he, swift of foot,    192
Outran my purpose, and I return’d the rather   
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,   
And Cassio high in oath, which till to-night   
I ne’er might say before. When I came back,—    196
For this was brief,—I found them close together,   
At blow and thrust, even as again they were   
When you yourself did part them.   
More of this matter can I not report:    200
But men are men; the best sometimes forget:   
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,   
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,   
Yet, surely Cassio, I believe, receiv’d    204
From him that fled some strange indignity,   
Which patience could not pass.   
  Oth.        I know, Iago,   
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,    208
Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee;   
But never more be officer of mine.   
 
Enter DESDEMONA, attended.
   
Look! if my gentle love be not rais’d up;    212
[To CASSIO.] I’ll make thee an example.   
  Des.        What’s the matter?   
  Oth.  All’s well now, sweeting; come away to bed.   
Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon.    216
Lead him off.  [MONTANO is led off.   
Iago, look with care about the town,   
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.   
Come, Desdemona; ’tis the soldiers’ life,    220
To have their balmy slumbers wak’d with strife.  [Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO.   
  Iago.  What! are you hurt, lieutenant?   
  Cas.  Ay; past all surgery.   
  Iago.  Marry, heaven forbid!    224
  Cas.  Reputation, reputation, reputation! O! I have lost my reputation. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!   
  Iago.  As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more offence in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving: you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What! man; there are ways to recover the general again; you are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice; even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him again, and he is yours.   
  Cas.  I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk! and speak parrot! and squabble, swagger, swear, and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow! O thou invisible spirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!   
  Iago.  What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you?    228
  Cas.  I know not.   
  Iago.  Is ’t possible?   
  Cas.  I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God! that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains; that we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts.   
  Iago.  Why, but you are now well enough; how came you thus recovered?    232
  Cas.  It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself.   
  Iago.  Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen, but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.   
  Cas.  I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.   
  Iago.  Come, come; good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used; exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.    236
  Cas.  I have well approved it, sir. I drunk!   
  Iago.  You or any man living may be drunk at some time, man. I’ll tell you what you shall do. Our general’s wife is now the general: I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune her; she’ll help to put you in your place again. She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, that she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.   
  Cas.  You advise me well.   
  Iago.  I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.    240
  Cas.  I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me. I am desperate of my fortunes if they check me here.   
  Iago.  You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must to the watch.   
  Cas.  Good night, honest Iago!  [Exit.   
  Iago.  And what’s he then that says I play the villain?    244
When this advice is free I give and honest,   
Probal to thinking and indeed the course   
To win the Moor again? For ’tis most easy   
The inclining Desdemona to subdue    248
In any honest suit; she’s fram’d as fruitful   
As the free elements. And then for her   
To win the Moor, were ’t to renounce his baptism,   
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,    252
His soul is so enfetter’d to her love,   
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,   
Even as her appetite shall play the god   
With his weak function. How am I then a villain    256
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,   
Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!   
When devils will the blackest sins put on,   
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,    260
As I do now; for while this honest fool   
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,   
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,   
I’ll pour this pestilence into his ear    264
That she repeals him for her body’s lust;   
And, by how much she strives to do him good,   
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.   
So will I turn her virtue into pitch,    268
And out of her own goodness make the net   
That shall enmesh them all.   
 
Re-enter RODERIGO.
   
  How now, Roderigo!    272
  Rod.  I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains; and so, with no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.   
  Iago.  How poor are they that have not patience!   
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?   
Thou know’st we work by wit and not by witch-craft,    276
And wit depends on dilatory time.   
Does ’t not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,   
And thou by that small hurt hast cashiered Cassio.   
Though other things grow fair against the sun,    280
Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:   
Content thyself awhile. By the mass, ’tis morning;   
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.   
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:    284
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:   
Nay, get thee gone. [Exit RODERIGO.] Two things are to be done,   
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;   
I’ll set her on;    288
Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,   
And bring him jump when he may Cassio find   
Soliciting his wife: ay, that’s the way:   
Dull not device by coldness and delay.  [Exit.    292

Act III. Scene I.


Cyprus. Before the Castle.
   
 
Enter CASSIO, and some Musicians.
   
  Cas.  Masters, play here, I will content your pains;   
Something that’s brief; and bid ‘Good morrow, general.’  [Music.      4
 
Enter Clown.
   
  Clo.  Why, masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i’ the nose thus?   
  First Mus.  How, sir, how?   
  Clo.  Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?      8
  First Mus.  Ay, marry, are they, sir.   
  Clo.  O! thereby hangs a tail.   
  First Mus.  Whereby hangs a tale, sir?   
  Clo.  Marry, sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know. But, masters, here’s money for you; and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love’s sake, to make no more noise with it.     12
  First Mus.  Well, sir, we will not.   
  Clo.  If you have any music that may not be heard, to ’t again; but, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly care.   
  First Mus.  We have none such, sir.   
  Clo.  Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I’ll away. Go; vanish into air; away!  [Exeunt Musicians.     16
  Cas.  Dost thou hear, mine honest friend?   
  Clo.  No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.   
  Cas.  Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There’s a poor piece of gold for thee. If the gentlewoman that attends the general’s wife be stirring, tell her there’s one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech: wilt thou do this?   
  Clo.  She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her.     20
  Cas.  Do, good my friend.  [Exit Clown.   
 
Enter IAGO.
   
In happy time, Iago.   
  Iago.  You have not been a-bed, then?     24
  Cas.  Why, no; the day had broke   
Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,   
To send in to your wife; my suit to her   
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona     28
Procure me some access.   
  Iago.        I’ll send her to you presently;   
And I’ll devise a mean to draw the Moor   
Out of the way, that your converse and business     32
May be more free.   
  Cas.  I humbly thank you for ’t.  [Exit IAGO.   
I never knew   
A Florentine more kind and honest.     36
 
Enter EMILIA.
   
  Emil.  Good morrow, good lieutenant: I am sorry   
For your displeasure; but all will soon be well.   
The general and his wife are talking of it,     40
And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies   
That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus   
And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom   
He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you,     44
And needs no other suitor but his likings   
To take the saf’st occasion by the front   
To bring you in again.   
  Cas.        Yet, I beseech you,     48
If you think fit, or that it may be done,   
Give me advantage of some brief discourse   
With Desdemona alone.   
  Emil.        Pray you, come in:     52
I will bestow you where you shall have time   
To speak your bosom freely.   
  Cas.        I am much bound to you.  [Exeunt.

Act III. Scene II.


A Room in the Castle.
   
 
Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Gentlemen.
   
  Oth.  These letters give, Iago, to the pilot,   
And by him do my duties to the senate;      4
That done, I will be walking on the works;   
Repair there to me.   
  Iago.        Well, my good lord, I’ll do ’t.   
  Oth.  This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see ’t?      8
  Gent.  We’ll wait upon your lordship.  [Exeunt.   

Act III. Scene III.


Before the Castle.
   
 
Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA.
   
  Des.  Be thou assur’d, good Cassio, I will do   
All my abilities in thy behalf.      4
  Emil.  Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband,   
As if the case were his.   
  Des.  O! that’s an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio,   
But I will have my lord and you again      8
As friendly as you were.   
  Cas.        Bounteous madam,   
Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,   
He’s never anything but your true servant.     12
  Des.  I know ’t; I thank you. You do love my lord;   
You have known him long; and be you well assur’d   
He shall in strangeness stand no further off   
Than in a politic distance.     16
  Cas.        Ay, but, lady,   
That policy may either last so long,   
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,   
Or breed itself so out of circumstance,     20
That, I being absent and my place supplied,   
My general will forget my love and service.   
  Des.  Do not doubt that; before Emilia here   
I give thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee,     24
If I do vow a friendship, I’ll perform it   
To the last article; my lord shall never rest;   
I’ll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience;   
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;     28
I’ll intermingle every thing he does   
With Cassio’s suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio;   
For thy solicitor shall rather die   
Than give thy cause away.     32
 
Enter OTHELLO, and IAGO at a distance.
   
  Emil.  Madam, here comes my lord.   
  Cas.  Madam, I’ll take my leave.   
  Des.  Why, stay, and hear me speak.     36
  Cas.  Madam, not now; I am very ill at ease,   
Unfit for mine own purposes.   
  Des.  Well, do your discretion.  [Exit CASSIO.   
  Iago.  Ha! I like not that.     40
  Oth.        What dost thou say?   
  Iago.  Nothing, my lord: or if—I know not what.   
  Oth.  Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?   
  Iago.  Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think it     44
That he would steal away so guilty-like,   
Seeing you coming.   
  Oth.        I do believe ’twas he.   
  Des.  How now, my lord!     48
I have been talking with a suitor here,   
A man that languishes in your displeasure.   
  Oth.  Who is ’t you mean?   
  Des.  Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,     52
If I have any grace or power to move you,   
His present reconciliation take;   
For if he be not one that truly loves you,   
That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,     56
I have no judgment in an honest face.   
I prithee call him back.   
  Oth.        Went he hence now?   
  Des.  Ay, sooth; so humbled,     60
That he hath left part of his grief with me,   
To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.   
  Oth.  Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time.   
  Des.  But shall ’t be shortly?     64
  Oth.        The sooner, sweet, for you.   
  Des.  Shall ’t be to-night at supper?   
  Oth.        No, not to-night.   
  Des.  To-morrow dinner then?     68
  Oth.        I shall not dine at home;   
I meet the captains at the citadel.   
  Des.  Why then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;   
On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn:     72
I prithee name the time, but let it not   
Exceed three days: in faith, he’s penitent;   
And yet his trespass, in our common reason,—   
Save that they say, the wars must make examples     76
Out of their best,—is not almost a fault   
To incur a private check. When shall he come?   
Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul,   
What you could ask me that I should deny,     80
Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,   
That came a wooing with you, and so many a time,   
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,   
Hath ta’en your part; to have so much to do     84
To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much.—   
  Oth.  Prithee, no more; let him come when he will;   
I will deny thee nothing.   
  Des.        Why, this is not a boon;     88
’Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,   
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,   
Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit   
To your own person; nay, when I have a suit     92
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,   
It shall be full of poise and difficult weight,   
And fearful to be granted.   
  Oth.        I will deny thee nothing:     96
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,   
To leave me but a little to myself.   
  Des.  Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord.   
  Oth.  Farewell, my Desdemona: I’ll come to thee straight.    100
  Des.  Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;   
Whate’er you be, I am obedient.  [Exit, with EMILIA.   
  Oth.  Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul   
But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,    104
Chaos is come again.   
  Iago.  My noble lord,—   
  Oth.        What dost thou say, Iago?   
  Iago.  Did Michael Cassio, when you woo’d my lady,    108
Know of your love?   
  Oth.  He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?   
  Iago.  But for a satisfaction of my thought;   
No further harm.    112
  Oth.        Why of thy thought, Iago?   
  Iago.  I did not think he had been acquainted with her.   
  Oth.  O! yes; and went between us very oft.   
  Iago.  Indeed!    116
  Oth.  Indeed! ay, indeed; discern’st thou aught in that?   
Is he not honest?   
  Iago.        Honest, my lord?   
  Oth.        Honest! ay, honest.    120
  Iago.  My lord, for aught I know.   
  Oth.  What dost thou think?   
  Iago.        Think, my lord!   
  Oth.        Think, my lord!    124
By heaven, he echoes me,   
As if there were some monster in his thought   
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something:   
I heard thee say but now, thou lik’dst not that,    128
When Cassio left my wife; what didst not like?   
And when I told thee he was of my counsel   
In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, ‘Indeed!’   
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,    132
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain   
Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me,   
Show me thy thought.   
  Iago.  My lord, you know I love you.    136
  Oth.        I think thou dost;   
And, for I know thou art full of love and honesty,   
And weigh’st thy words before thou giv’st them breath,   
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more;    140
For such things in a false disloyal knave   
Are tricks of custom, but in a man that’s just   
They are close delations, working from the heart   
That passion cannot rule.    144
  Iago.        For Michael Cassio,   
I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.   
  Oth.  I think so too.   
  Iago.        Men should be what they seem;    148
Or those that be not, would they might seem none!   
  Oth.  Certain, men should be what they seem.   
  Iago.  Why then, I think Cassio ’s an honest man.   
  Oth.  Nay, yet there’s more in this.    152
I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,   
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts   
The worst of words.   
  Iago.        Good my lord, pardon me;    156
Though I am bound to every act of duty,   
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.   
Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false;   
As where’s that palace whereinto foul things    160
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure   
But some uncleanly apprehensions   
Keep leets and law days, and in session sit   
With meditations lawful?    164
  Oth.  Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,   
If thou but think’st him wrong’d, and mak’st his ear   
A stranger to thy thoughts.   
  Iago.        I do beseech you,    168
Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,—   
As, I confess, it is my nature’s plague   
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy   
Shapes faults that are not,—that your wisdom yet,    172
From one that so imperfectly conceits,   
Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble   
Out of his scattering and unsure observance.   
It were not for your quiet nor your good,    176
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,   
To let you know my thoughts.   
  Oth.        What dost thou mean?   
  Iago.  Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,    180
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:   
Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing;   
’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands;   
But he that filches from me my good name    184
Robs me of that which not enriches him,   
And makes me poor indeed.   
  Oth.  By heaven, I’ll know thy thoughts.   
  Iago.  You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;    188
Nor shall not, whilst ’tis in my custody.   
  Oth.  Ha!   
  Iago.        O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;   
It is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock    192
The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss   
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;   
But, O! what damned minutes tells he o’er   
Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet soundly loves!    196
  Oth.  O misery!   
  Iago.  Poor and content is rich, and rich enough,   
But riches fineless is as poor as winter   
To him that ever fears he shall be poor.    200
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend   
From jealousy!   
  Oth.        Why, why is this?   
Think’st thou I’d make a life of jealousy,    204
To follow still the changes of the moon   
With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt   
Is once to be resolved. Exchange me for a goat   
When I shall turn the business of my soul    208
To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,   
Matching thy inference. ’Tis not to make me jealous   
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,   
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well;    212
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:   
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw   
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt;   
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;    216
I’ll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;   
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,   
Away at once with love or jealousy!   
  Iago.  I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason    220
To show the love and duty that I bear you   
With franker spirit; therefore, as I am bound,   
Receive it from me; I speak not yet of proof.   
Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;    224
Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure:   
I would not have your free and noble nature   
Out of self-bounty be abus’d; look to ’t:   
I know our country disposition well;    228
In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks   
They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience   
Is not to leave ’t undone, but keep ’t unknown.   
  Oth.  Dost thou say so?    232
  Iago.  She did deceive her father, marrying you;   
And when she seem’d to shake and fear your looks,   
She lov’d them most.   
  Oth.        And so she did.    236
  Iago.        Why, go to, then;   
She that so young could give out such a seeming,   
To seel her father’s eyes up close as oak,   
He thought ’twas witchcraft; but I am much to blame;    240
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon   
For too much loving you.   
  Oth.        I am bound to thee for ever.   
  Iago.  I see, this hath a little dash’d your spirits.    244
  Oth.  Not a jot, not a jot.   
  Iago.        I’ faith, I fear it has.   
I hope you will consider what is spoke   
Comes from my love. But, I do see you’re mov’d;    248
I am to pray you not to strain my speech   
To grosser issues nor to larger reach   
Than to suspicion.   
  Oth.  I will not.    252
  Iago.        Should you do so, my lord,   
My speech should fall into such vile success   
As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio’s my worthy friend—   
My lord, I see you’re mov’d.    256
  Oth.        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!   
  Oth.  And, yet, how nature erring from itself,—    260
  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;    264
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    268
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,   
May fail to match you with her country forms   
And happily repent.   
  Oth.        Farewell, farewell:    272
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;   
Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, Iago.   
  Iago.  My lord, I take my leave.  [Going.   
  Oth.  Why did I marry? This honest creature, doubtless,    276
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.   
Although ’tis fit that Cassio have his place,    280
For, sure he fills it up with great ability,   
Yet, if you please to hold him off a while,   
You shall by that perceive him and his means:   
Note if your lady strain his entertainment    284
With any strong or vehement importunity;   
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,   
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,   
As worthy cause I have to fear I am,    288
And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.   
  Oth.  Fear not my government.   
  Iago.  I once more take my leave.  [Exit.   
  Oth.  This fellow’s of exceeding honesty,    292
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,    296
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—    300
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 appetities. I had rather be a toad,    304
And live upon the vapour 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;    308
’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:   
Even then this forked plague is fated to us   
When we do quicken.   
Look! where she comes.    312
If she be false, O! then heaven mocks itself.   
I’ll not believe it.   
 
Re-enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA.
   
  Des.        How now, my dear Othello!    316
Your dinner and the generous islanders   
By you invited, do attend your presence.   
  Oth.  I am to blame.   
  Des.        Why do you speak so faintly?    320
Are you not well?   
  Oth.  I have a pain upon my forehead here.   
  Des.  Faith, that’s with watching; ’twill away again:   
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour    324
It will be well.   
  Oth.        Your napkin is too little:  [She drops her handkerchief.   
Let it alone. Come, I’ll go in with you.   
  Des.  I am very sorry that you are not well.  [Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA.    328
  Emil.  I am glad I have found this napkin;   
This was her first remembrance from the Moor;   
My wayward husband hath a hundred times   
Woo’d me to steal it, but she so loves the token,    332
For he conjur’d her she should ever keep it,   
That she reserves it evermore about her   
To kiss and talk to. I’ll have the work ta’en out,   
And give ’t Iago:    336
What he will do with it heaven knows, not I;   
I nothing but to please his fantasy.   
 
Enter IAGO.
   
  Iago.  How now! what do you here alone?    340
  Emil.  Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.   
  Iago.  A thing for me? It is a common thing—   
  Emil.  Ha!   
  Iago.  To have a foolish wife.    344
  Emil.  O! is that all? What will you give me now   
For that same handkerchief?   
  Iago.        What handkerchief?   
  Emil.  What handkerchief!    348
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona:   
That which so often you did bid me steal.   
  Iago.  Hast stol’n it from her?   
  Emil.  No, faith; she let it drop by negligence,    352
And, to the advantage, I, being there, took ’t up.   
Look, here it is.   
  Iago.        A good wench; give it me.   
  Emil.  What will you do with ’t, that you have been so earnest    356
To have me filch it?   
  Iago.  Why, what’s that to you?  [Snatches it.   
  Emil.  If it be not for some purpose of import   
Give ’t me again; poor lady! she’ll run mad    360
When she shall lack it.   
  Iago.  Be not acknown on ’t; I have use for it.   
Go, leave me.  [Exit EMILIA,   
I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin,    364
And let him find it; trifles light as air   
Are to the jealous confirmations strong   
As proofs of holy writ; this may do something.   
The Moor already changes with my poison:    368
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:    372
Look! where he comes!   
 
Enter OTHELLO.
   
Not poppy, nor mandragora,   
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,    376
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep   
Which thou ow’dst yesterday.   
  Oth.        Ha! ha! false to me?   
  Iago.  Why, how now, general! no more of that.    380
  Oth.  Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack;   
I swear ’tis better to be much abus’d   
Than but to know ’t a little.   
  Iago.        How now, my lord!    384
  Oth.  What sense had I of her stol’n hours of lust?   
I saw ’t not, thought it not, it harm’d not me;   
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;   
I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips;    388
He that is robb’d, not wanting what is stol’n,   
Let him not know ’t and he’s not robb’d at all.   
  Iago.  I am sorry to hear this.   
  Oth.  I had been happy, if the general camp,    392
Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,   
So I had nothing known. O! now, for ever   
Farewell the tranquil mind; farewell content!   
Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars    396
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!   
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,   
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,   
The royal banner, and all quality,    400
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!   
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats   
The immortal Jove’s dread clamours counterfeit,   
Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone!    404
  Iago.  Is it possible, my lord?   
  Oth.  Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,   
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;   
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,    408
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog   
Than answer my wak’d wrath.   
  Iago.        Is ’t come to this?   
  Oth.  Make me to see ’t; or, at the least, so prove it,    412
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop   
To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!   
  Iago.  My noble lord,—   
  Oth.  If thou dost slander her and torture me,    416
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;   
On horror’s head horrors accumulate;   
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz’d;   
For nothing canst thou to damnation add    420
Greater than that.   
  Iago.        O grace! O heaven forgive me!   
Are you a man! have you a soul or sense?   
God be wi’ you; take mine office. O wretched fool!    424
That liv’st to make thine honesty a vice.   
O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world!   
To be direct and honest is not safe.   
I thank you for this profit, and, from hence    428
I’ll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.   
  Oth.  Nay, stay; thou shouldst be honest.   
  Iago.  I should be wise; for honesty’s a fool,   
And loses that it works for.    432
  Oth.        By the world,   
I think my wife be honest and think she is not;   
I think that thou art just and think thou art not.   
I’ll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh    436
As Dian’s visage, is now begrim’d and black   
As mine own face. If there be cords or knives,   
Poison or fire or suffocating streams,   
I’ll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!    440
  Iago.  I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion.   
I do repent me that I put it to you.   
You would be satisfied?   
  Oth.        Would! nay, I will.    444
  Iago.  And may; but how? how satisfied, my lord?   
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on;   
Behold her tupp’d?   
  Oth.        Death and damnation! O!    448
  Iago.  It were a tedious difficulty, I think,   
To bring them to that prospect; damn them then,   
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster   
More than their own! What then? how then?    452
What shall I say? Where’s satisfaction?   
It is impossible you should see this,   
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,   
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross    456
As ignorance made drunk; but yet, I say,   
If imputation, and strong circumstances,   
Which lead directly to the door of truth,   
Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.    460
  Oth.  Give me a living reason she’s disloyal.   
  Iago.  I do not like the office;   
But, sith I am enter’d in this cause so far,   
Prick’d to ’t by foolish honesty and love,    464
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;   
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,   
I could not sleep.   
There are a kind of men so loose of soul    468
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs;   
One of this kind is Cassio.   
In sleep I heard him say, ‘Sweet Desdemona,   
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!’    472
And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,   
Cry, ‘O, sweet creature!’ and then kiss me hard,   
As if he pluck’d up kisses by the roots,   
That grew upon my lips; then laid his leg    476
Over my thigh, and sigh’d, and kiss’d; and then   
Cried, ‘Cursed fate, that gave thee to the Moor!’   
  Oth.  O monstrous! monstrous!   
  Iago.        Nay, this was but his dream.    480
  Oth.  But this denoted a foregone conclusion:   
’Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.   
  Iago.  And this may help to thicken other proofs   
That do demonstrate thinly.    484
  Oth.        I’ll tear her all to pieces.   
  Iago.  Nay, but be wise; yet we see nothing done;   
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this:   
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief    488
Spotted with strawberries in your wife’s hand?   
  Oth.  I gave her such a one; ’twas my first gift.   
  Iago.  I know not that; but such a handkerchief—   
I am sure it was your wife’s—did I to-day    492
See Cassio wipe his beard with.   
  Oth.        If it be that,—   
  Iago.  If it be that, or any that was hers,   
It speaks against her with the other proofs.    496
  Oth.  O! that the slave had forty thousand lives;   
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.   
Now do I see ’tis true. Look here, Iago;   
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven:    500
’Tis gone.   
Arise, black vengeance, from the hollow hell!   
Yield up, O love! thy crown and hearted throne   
To tyrannous hate. Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,    504
For ’tis of aspics’ tongues!   
  Iago.        Yet be content.   
  Oth.  O! blood, blood, blood!   
  Iago.  Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may change.    508
  Oth.  Never, Iago. Like to the Pontick sea,   
Whose icy current and compulsive course   
Ne’er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on   
To the Propontic and the Hellespont,    512
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,   
Shall ne’er look back, ne’er ebb to humble love,   
Till that a capable and wide revenge   
Swallow them up.  [Kneels.    516
Now, by yond marble heaven,   
In the due reverence of a sacred vow   
I here engage my words.   
  Iago.        Do not rise yet.  [Kneels.    520
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,    524
To wrong’d Othello’s service! Let him command,   
And to obey shall be in me remorse,   
What bloody business ever.   
  Oth.        I greet thy love,    528
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.    532
  Iago.  My friend is dead; ’tis done at your request:   
But let her live.   
  Oth.        Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!   
Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw    536
To furnish me with some swift means of death   
For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.   
  Iago.  I am your own for ever.  [Exeunt.   

Act III. Scene IV.


Before the Castle.
   
 
Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown.
   
  Des.  Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio Lies?   
  Clo.  I dare not say he lies any where.      4
  Des.  Why, man?   
  Clo.  He is a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.   
  Des.  Go to; where lodges he?   
  Clo.  To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie.      8
  Des.  Can anything be made of this?   
  Clo.  I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a lodging, and say he lies here or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat.   
  Des.  Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?   
  Clo.  I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions, and by them answer.     12
  Des.  Seek him, bid him come hither; tell him I have moved my lord in his behalf, and hope all will be well.   
  Clo.  To do this is within the compass of man’s wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.  [Exit.   
  Des.  Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?   
  Emil.  I know not, madam.     16
  Des.  Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse   
Full of cruzadoes; and, but my noble Moor   
Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness   
As jealous creatures are, it were enough     20
To put him to ill thinking.   
  Emil.        Is he not jealous?   
  Des.  Who! he? I think the sun where he was born   
Drew all such humours from him.     24
  Emil.        Look! where he comes.   
  Des.  I will not leave him now till Cassio   
Be call’d to him.   
 
Enter OTHELLO.
     28
How is ’t with you, my lord?   
  Oth.  Well, my good lady. [Aside.] O! hardness to dissemble.   
How do you, Desdemona?   
  Des.        Well, my good lord.     32
  Oth.  Give me your hand. This hand is moist, my lady.   
  Des.  It yet has felt no age nor known no sorrow.   
  Oth.  This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart;   
Hot, hot, and moist; this hand of yours requires     36
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,   
Much castigation, exercise devout;   
For here’s a young and sweating devil here,   
That commonly rebels. ’Tis a good hand,     40
A frank one.   
  Des.        You may, indeed, say so;   
For ’twas that hand that gave away my heart.   
  Oth.  A liberal hand; the hearts of old gave hands,     44
But our new heraldry is hands not hearts.   
  Des.  I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.   
  Oth.  What promise, chuck?   
  Des.  I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.     48
  Oth.  I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me.   
Lend me thy handkerchief.   
  Des.        Here, my lord.   
  Oth.  That which I gave you.     52
  Des.        I have it not about me.   
  Oth.  Not?   
  Des.        No, indeed, my lord.   
  Oth.        That is a fault.     56
That handkerchief   
Did an Egyptian to my mother give;   
She was a charmer, and could almost read   
The thoughts of people; she told her, while she kept it,     60
’Twould make her amiable and subdue my father   
Entirely to her love, but if she lost it   
Or made a gift of it, my father’s eye   
Should hold her loathed, and his spirits should hunt     64
After new fancies. She dying gave it me;   
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,   
To give it her. I did so: and take heed on ’t;   
Make it a darling like your precious eye;     68
To lose’t or give’t away, were such perdition   
As nothing else could match.   
  Des.        Is ’t possible?   
  Oth.  ’Tis true; there’s magic in the web of it;     72
A sibyl, that had number’d in the world   
The sun to course two hundred compasses,   
In her prophetic fury sew’d the work;   
The worms were hallow’d that did breed the silk,     76
And it was dy’d in mummy which the skilful   
Conserv’d of maidens’ hearts.   
  Des.        Indeed! is ’t true?   
  Oth.  Most veritable; therefore look to ’t well.     80
  Des.  Then would to heaven that I had never seen it!   
  Oth.  Ha! wherefore?   
  Des.  Why do you speak so startingly and rash?   
  Oth.  Is ’t lost? is ’t gone? speak, is it out o’ the way?     84
  Des.  Heaven bless us!   
  Oth.        Say you?   
  Des.  It is not lost: but what an if it were?   
  Oth.  How!     88
  Des.  I say, it is not lost.   
  Oth.        Fetch ’t, let me see ’t.   
  Des.  Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.   
This is a trick to put me from my suit:     92
Pray you let Cassio be receiv’d again.   
  Oth.  Fetch me the handkerchief; my mind misgives.   
  Des.  Come, come;   
You’ll never meet a more sufficient man.     96
  Oth.  The handkerchief!   
  Des.        I pray, talk me of Cassio.   
  Oth.  The handkerchief!   
  Des.        A man that all his time    100
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,   
Shar’d dangers with you,—   
  Oth.  The handkerchief!   
  Des.        In sooth you are to blame.    104
  Oth.  Away!  [Exit.   
  Emil.  Is not this man jealous?   
  Des.  I ne’er saw this before.   
Sure, there’s some wonder in this handkerchief;    108
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.   
  Emil.  ’Tis not a year or two shows us a man;   
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;   
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full    112
They belch us. Look you! Cassio and my husband.   
 
Enter IAGO and CASSIO.
   
  Iago.  There is no other way; ’tis she must do ’t:   
And, lo! the happiness: go and importune her.    116
  Des.  How now, good Cassio! what’s the news with you?   
  Cas.  Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you   
That by your virtuous means I may again   
Exist, and be a member of his love    120
Whom I with all the office of my heart   
Entirely honour; I would not be delay’d.   
If my offence be of such mortal kind   
That nor my service past, nor present sorrows,    124
Nor purpos’d merit in futurity,   
Can ransom me into his love again,   
But to know so must be my benefit;   
So shall I clothe me in a forc’d content,    128
And shut myself up in some other course   
To fortune’s alms.   
  Des.        Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio!   
My advocation is not now in tune;    132
My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him,   
Were he in favour as in humour alter’d.   
So help me every spirit sanctified,   
As I have spoken for you all my best    136
And stood within the blank of his displeasure   
For my free speech. You must awhile be patient;   
What I can do I will, and more I will   
Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.    140
  Iago.  Is my lord angry?   
  Emil.        He went hence but now,   
And, certainly in strange unquietness.   
  Iago.  Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon,    144
When it hath blown his ranks into the air,   
And, like the devil, from his very arm   
Puff’d his own brother; and can he be angry?   
Something of moment then; I will go meet him;    148
There’s matter in ’t indeed, if he be angry.   
  Des.  I prithee, do so. [Exit IAGO.] Something, sure, of state,   
Either from Venice, or some unhatch’d practice   
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,    152
Hath puddled his clear spirit; and, in such cases   
Men’s natures wrangle with inferior things,   
Though great ones are their object. ’Tis even so;   
For let our finger ache, and it indues    156
Our other healthful members ev’n to that sense   
Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods,   
Nor of them look for such observancy   
As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia,    160
I was—unhandsome warrior as I am—   
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;   
But now I find I had suborn’d the witness,   
And he’s indicted falsely.    164
  Emil.  Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think,   
And no conception, nor no jealous toy   
Concerning you.   
  Des.  Alas the day! I never gave him cause.    168
  Emil.  But jealous souls will not be answer’d so;   
They are not ever jealous for the cause,   
But jealous for they are jealous; ’tis a monster   
Begot upon itself, born on itself.    172
  Des.  Heaven keep that monster from Othello’s mind!   
  Emil.  Lady, amen.   
  Des.  I will go seek him. Cassio, walk here-about;   
If I do find him fit, I’ll move your suit    176
And seek to effect it to my uttermost.   
  Cas.  I humbly thank your ladyship.  [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA.   
 
Enter BIANCA.
   
  Bian.  Save you, friend Cassio!    180
  Cas.        What make you from home?   
How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?   
I’ faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.   
  Bian.  And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.    184
What! keep a week away? seven days and nights?   
Eight score eight hours? and lovers’ absent hours,   
More tedious than the dial eight score times?   
O weary reckoning!    188
  Cas.        Pardon me, Bianca,   
I have this while with leaden thoughts been press’d,   
But I shall, in a more continuate time,   
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca.  [Giving her DESDEMONA’S handkerchief.    192
Take me this work out.   
  Bian.        O Cassio! whence came this?   
This is some token from a newer friend;   
To the felt absence now I feel a cause;    196
Is ’t come to this? Well, well.   
  Cas.        Go to, woman!   
Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth,   
From whence you have them. You are jealous now    200
That this is from some mistress, some remembrance:   
No, in good troth, Bianca.   
  Bian.        Why, whose is it?   
  Cas.  I know not, sweet; I found it in my chamber.    204
I like the work well; ere it be demanded,—   
As like enough it will,—I’d have it copied;   
Take it and do ’t; and leave me for this time.   
  Bian.  Leave you! wherefore?    208
  Cas.  I do attend here on the general,   
And think it no addition nor my wish   
To have him see me woman’d.   
  Bian.        Why, I pray you?    212
  Cas.  Not that I love you not.   
  Bian.        But that you do not love me.   
I pray you, bring me on the way a little   
And say if I shall see you soon at night.    216
  Cas.  ’Tis but a little way that I can bring you,   
For I attend here; but I’ll see you soon.   
  Bian.  ’Tis very good; I must be circumstanc’d.  [Exeunt.

Act IV. Scene I.


Cyprus. Before the Castle.
   
 
Enter OTHELLO and IAGO.
   
  Iago.  Will you think so?   
  Oth.        Think so, Iago!      4
  Iago.        What!   
To kiss in private?   
  Oth.        An unauthoriz’d kiss.   
  Iago.  Or to be naked with her friend a-bed      8
An hour or more, not meaning any harm?   
  Oth.  Naked a-bed, Iago, and not mean harm?   
It is hypocrisy against the devil:   
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,     12
The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.   
  Iago.  If they do nothing, ’tis a venial slip;   
But if I give my wife a handkerchief,—   
  Oth.  What then?     16
  Iago.  Why, then, ’tis hers, my lord; and, being hers,   
She may, I think, bestow ’t on any man.   
  Oth.  She is protectress of her honour too;   
May she give that?     20
  Iago.  Her honour is an essence that’s not seen;   
They have it very oft that have it not:   
But for the handkerchief,—   
  Oth.  By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it :—     24
Thou said’st,—O! 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?     28
  Oth        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,     32
Who having, by their own importunate suit,   
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,   
Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose   
But they must blab.     36
  Oth.        Hath he said any thing?   
  Iago.  He hath, my lord; but be you well assur’d,   
No more than he’ll unswear.   
  Oth.        What hath he said?     40
  Iago.  Faith, that he did—I know not what he did.   
  Oth.  What? what?   
  Iago.  Lie—   
  Oth.        With her?     44
  Iago.        With her, on her; what you will.   
  Oth.  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 it possible?—Confess!—Handkerchief!—O devil!  [Falls in a trance.   
  Iago.  Work on,   
My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught;     48
And many worthy and chaste dames even thus,   
All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord!   
My lord, I say! Othello!   
 
Enter CASSIO.
     52
How now, Cassio!   
  Cas.  What’s the matter?   
  Iago.  My lord is fallen into an epilepsy;   
This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.     56
  Cas.  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     60
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.  [Exit CASSIO.     64
How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?   
  Oth.  Dost thou mock me?   
  Iago.        I mock you! no, by heaven.   
Would you would bear your fortune like a man!     68
  Oth.  A horned man’s a monster and a beast.   
  Iago.  There’s many a beast then, in a populous city,   
And many a civil monster.   
  Oth.  Did he confess it?     72
  Iago.        Good sir, be a man;   
Think every bearded fellow that’s but yok’d   
May draw with you; there’s millions now alive   
That nightly lie in those unproper beds     76
Which they dare swear peculiar; your case is better.   
O! ’tis the spite of hell, the fiend’s arch-mock,   
To lip a wanton in a secure couch,   
And to suppose her chaste. No, let me know;     80
And knowing what I am I know what she shall be.   
  Oth.  O! thou art wise; ’tis certain.   
  Iago.        Stand you awhile apart;   
Confine yourself but in a patient list.     84
Whilst you were here o’erwhelmed with your grief,—   
A passion most unsuiting such a man,—   
Cassio came hither; I shifted him away,   
And laid good ’scuse upon your ecstasy;     88
Bade him anon return and here speak with me;   
The which he promis’d. Do but encave yourself,   
And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns,   
That dwell in every region of his face;     92
For I will make him tell the tale anew,   
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when   
He hath, and is again to cope your wife:   
I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;     96
Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen,   
And nothing of a man.   
  Oth.        Dost thou hear, Iago?   
I will be found most cunning in my patience;    100
But—dost thou hear?—most bloody.   
  Iago.        That’s not amiss;   
But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?  [OTHELLO goes apart.   
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,    104
A housewife that by selling her desires   
Buys herself bread and clothes; it is a creature   
That dotes on Cassio; as ’tis the strumpet’s plague   
To beguile many and be beguil’d by one.    108
He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain   
From the excess of laughter. Here he comes:   
 
Re-enter CASSIO.
   
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;    112
And his unbookish jealousy must construe   
Poor Cassio’s smiles, gestures, and light behaviour   
Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieutenant?   
  Cas.  The worser that you give me the addition    116
Whose want even kills me.   
  Iago.  Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on ’t.   
[Speaking lower.] Now, if this suit lay in Bianca’s power,   
How quickly should you speed!    120
  Cas.        Alas! poor caitiff!   
  Oth.  Look! how he laughs already!   
  Iago.  I never knew woman love man so.   
  Cas.  Alas! poor rogue, I think, i’ faith, she loves me.    124
  Oth.  Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.   
  Iago.  Do you hear, Cassio?   
  Oth.        Now he importunes him   
To tell it o’er: go to; well said, well said.    128
  Iago.  She gives it out that you shall marry her;   
Do you intend it?   
  Cas.  Ha, ha, ha!   
  Oth.  Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?    132
  Cas.  I marry her! what? a customer? I prithee, bear some charity to my wit; do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha!   
  Oth.  So, so, so, so. They laugh that win.   
  Iago.  Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.   
  Cas.  Prithee, say true.    136
  Iago.  I am a very villain else.   
  Oth.  Have you scored me? Well.   
  Cas.  This is the monkey’s own giving out: she is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise.   
  Oth.  Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.    140
  Cas.  She was here even now; she haunts me in every place. I was the other day talking on the sea bank with certain Venetians, and thither come this bauble, and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck;—   
  Oth.  Crying, ‘O dear Cassio!’ as it were; his gesture imports it.   
  Cas.  So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me; so hales and pulls me; ha, ha, ha!   
  Oth.  Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O! I see that nose of yours, but not the dog I shall throw it to.    144
  Cas.  Well, I must leave her company.   
  Iago.  Before me! look, where she comes.   
  Cas  ’Tis such another fitchew! marry, a perfumed one.   
 
Enter BIANCA.
    148
What do you mean by this haunting of me?   
  Bian.  Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the work! A likely piece of work, that you should find it in your chamber, and not know who left it there! This is some minx’s token, and I must take out the work! There, give it your hobby-horse; wheresoever you had it I’ll take out no work on ’t.   
  Cas.  How now, my sweet Bianca! how now, how now!   
  Oth.  By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!    152
  Bian.  An you’ll come to supper to-night, you may; an you will not, come when you are next prepared for.  [Exit.   
  Iago.  After her, after her.   
  Cas.  Faith, I must; she’ll rail in the street else.   
  Iago.  Will you sup there?    156
  Cas.  Faith, I intend so.   
  Iago.  Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very fain speak with you.   
  Cas.  Prithee, come; will you?   
  Iago.  Go to; say no more.  [Exit CASSIO.    160
  Oth.  [Advancing.] How shall I murder him, Iago?   
  Iago.  Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?   
  Oth.  O! Iago!   
  Iago.  And did you see the handkerchief?    164
  Oth.  Was that mine?   
  Iago.  Yours, by this hand; and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he hath given it his whore.   
  Oth.  I would have him nine years a-killing. A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman!   
  Iago.  Nay, you must forget that.    168
  Oth.  Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night; for she shall not live. No, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O! the world hath not a sweeter creature; she might lie by an emperor’s side and command him tasks.   
  Iago.  Nay, that’s not your way.   
  Oth.  Hang her! I do but say what she is. So delicate with her needle! An admirable musician! O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear. Of so high and plenteous with and invention!   
  Iago.  She’s the worse for all this.    172
  Oth.  O! a thousand, a thousand times. And then, of so gentle a condition!   
  Iago.  Ay, too gentle.   
  Oth.  Nay, that’s certain;—but yet the pity of it, Iago! O! Iago, the pity of it, Iago!   
  Iago.  If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes near nobody.    176
  Oth.  I will chop her into messes. Cuckold me!   
  Iago.  O! ’tis foul in her.   
  Oth.  With mine officer!   
  Iago.  That’s fouler.    180
  Oth.  Get me some poison, Iago; this night: I’ll not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again. This night, Iago.   
  Iago.  Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.   
  Oth.  Good, good; the justice of it pleases; very good.   
  Iago.  And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker; you shall hear more by midnight.    184
  Oth.  Excellent good. [A trumpet within.]   
What trumpet is that same?   
  Iago.  Something from Venice, sure. ’Tis Lodovico,   
Come from the duke; and see, your wife is with him.    188
 
Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants.
   
  Lod.  God save you, worthy general!   
  Oth.        With all my heart, sir.   
  Lod.  The duke and senators of Venice greet you.  [Gives him a packet.    192
  Oth.  I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.  [Opens the packet, and reads.   
  Des.  And what’s the news, good cousin Lodovico?   
  Iago.  I am very glad to see you, signior;   
Welcome to Cyprus.    196
  Lod.  I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?   
  Iago.  Lives, sir.   
  Des.  Cousin, there’s fall’n between him and my lord   
An unkind breach; but you shall make all well.    200
  Oth.  Are you sure of that?   
  Des.  My lord?   
  Oth.  This fail you not to do, as you will—   
  Lod.  He did not call; he’s busy in the paper.    204
Is there division ’twixt my lord and Cassio?   
  Des  A most unhappy one; I would do much   
To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.   
  Oth.  Fire and brimstone!    208
  Des.        My lord?   
  Oth.        Are you wise?   
  Des.  What! is he angry?   
  Lod.        May be the letter mov’d him;    212
For, as I think, they do command him home,   
Deputing Cassio in his government.   
  Des.  Trust me, I am glad on ’t.   
  Oth.        Indeed!    216
  Des.        My lord?   
  Oth.  I am glad to see you mad.   
  Des.        Why, sweet Othello?   
  Oth.  Devil!  [Strikes her.    220
  Des.        I have not deserved this.   
  Lod.  My lord, this would not be believ’d in Venice,   
Though I should swear I saw ’t: ’tis very much;   
Make her amends, she weeps.    224
  Oth.        O devil, devil!   
If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears,   
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.   
Out of my sight!    228
  Des.        I will not stay to offend you.  [Going.   
  Lod.  Truly, an obedient lady;   
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.   
  Oth.  Mistress!    232
  Des.        My lord?   
  Oth.        What would you with her, sir?   
  Lod.  Who, I, my lord?   
  Oth.  Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn:    236
Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,   
And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;   
And she’s obedient, as you say, obedient,   
Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears.    240
Concerning this, sir,—O well-painted passion!—   
I am commanded home. Get you away;   
I’ll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate,   
And will return to Venice. Hence! avaunt!  [Exit DESDEMONA.    244
Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night,   
I do entreat that we may sup together;   
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!  [Exit.   
  Lod.  Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate    248
Call all-in-all sufficient? is this the noble nature   
Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue   
The shot of accident nor dart of chance   
Could neither graze nor pierce?    252
  Iago.        He is much chang’d.   
  Lod.  Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?   
  Iago.  He’s that he is; I may not breathe my censure.   
What he might be, if, what he might, he is not,    256
I would to heaven he were!   
  Lod.        What! strike his wife!   
  Iago.  Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew   
That stroke would prove the worst!    260
  Lod.        Is it his use?   
Or did the letters work upon his blood,   
And new-create this fault?   
  Iago.        Alas, alas!    264
It is not honesty in me to speak   
What I have seen and known. You shall observe him,   
And his own courses will denote him so   
That I may save my speech. Do but go after    268
And mark how he continues.   
  Lod.  I am sorry that I am deceiv’d in him.  [Exeunt.   

Act IV. Scene II.


A Room in the Castle.
   
 
Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA.
   
  Oth.  You have seen nothing, then?   
  Emil.  Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.      4
  Oth.  Yes, you have seen Cassio and her together.   
  Emil.  But then I saw no harm, and then I heard   
Each syllable that breath made up between them.   
  Oth.  What! did they never whisper?      8
  Emil.        Never, my lord.   
  Oth.  Nor send you out o’ the way?   
  Emil.        Never.   
  Oth.  To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?     12
  Emil.  Never, my lord.   
  Oth.  That’s strange.   
  Emil.  I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,   
Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,     16
Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.   
If any wretch have put this in your head,   
Let heaven requite it with the serpent’s curse!   
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,     20
There’s no man happy; the purest of their wives   
Is foul as slander.   
  Oth.        Bid her come hither; go.  [Exit EMILIA.   
She says enough; yet she’s a simple bawd     24
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,   
A closet lock and key of villanous secrets;   
And yet she’ll kneel and pray; I have seen her do ’t.   
 
Re-enter EMILIA with DESDEMONA.
     28
  Des.  My lord, what is your will?   
  Oth.        Pray, chuck, come hither.   
  Des.  What is your pleasure?   
  Oth.        Let me see your eyes;     32
Look in my face.   
  Des.        What horrible fancy’s this?   
  Oth.  [To EMILIA.] Some of your function, mistress;   
Leave procreants alone and shut the door;     36
Cough or cry ‘hem’ if any body come;   
Your mystery, your mystery; nay, dispatch.  [Exit EMILIA.   
  Des.  Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?   
I understand a fury in your words,     40
But not the words.   
  Oth.  Why, what art thou?   
  Des.        Your wife, my lord; your true   
And loyal wife.     44
  Oth.        Come, swear it, damn thyself;   
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves   
Should fear to seize thee; therefore be double-damn’d;   
Swear thou art honest.     48
  Des.        Heaven doth truly know it.   
  Oth.  Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.   
  Des.  To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?   
  Oth.  Ah! Desdemona; away, away, away!     52
  Des.  Alas, the heavy day!—Why do you weep?   
Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?   
If haply you my father do suspect   
An instrument of this your calling back,     56
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,   
Why, I have lost him too.   
  Oth.        Had it pleas’d heaven   
To try me with affliction, had he rain’d     60
All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head,   
Steep’d me in poverty to the very lips,   
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,   
I should have found in some part of my soul     64
A drop of patience; but, alas! to make me   
The fixed figure for the time of scorn   
To point his slow and moving finger at;   
Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:     68
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   
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!     72
Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads   
To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,   
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp’d cherubin;   
Ay, there, look grim as hell!     76
  Des.  I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.   
  Oth.  O! ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,   
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed!   
Who art so lovely fair and smell’st so sweet     80
That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne’er been born.   
  Des.  Alas! what ignorant sin have I committed?   
  Oth.  Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,   
Made to write ‘whore’ upon? What committed!     84
Committed! O thou public commoner!   
I should make very forges of my cheeks,   
That would to cinders burn up modesty,   
Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!     88
Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks,   
The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets   
Is hush’d within the hollow mine of earth,   
And will not hear it. What committed!     92
Impudent strumpet!   
  Des.        By heaven, you do me wrong.   
  Oth.  Are not you a strumpet?   
  Des.        No, as I am a Christian.     96
If to preserve this vessel for my lord   
From any other foul unlawful touch   
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.   
  Oth.  What! not a whore?    100
  Des.        No, as I shall be sav’d.   
  Oth.  Is it possible?   
  Des.  O! heaven forgive us.   
  Oth.        I cry you mercy, then;    104
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice   
That married with Othello. You, mistress,   
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,   
And keep the gate of hell!    108
 
Re-enter EMILIA.
   
You, you, ay, you!   
We have done our course; there’s money for your pains.   
I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel.  [Exit.    112
  Emil.  Alas! what does this gentleman conceive?   
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?   
  Des.  Faith, half asleep.   
  Emil.  Good madam, what’s the matter with my lord?    116
  Des.  With who?   
  Emil.  Why, with my lord, madam.   
  Des.  Who is thy lord?   
  Emil.        He that is yours, sweet lady.    120
  Des.  I have none; do not talk to me, Emilia;   
I cannot weep, nor answer have I none,   
But what should go by water. Prithee, to-night   
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember:    124
And call thy husband hither.   
  Emil.        Here is a change indeed!  [Exit.   
  Des.  ’Tis meet I should be us’d so, very meet.   
How have I been behav’d, that he might stick    128
The small’st opinion on my least misuse?   
 
Re-enter EMILIA, with IAGO.
   
  Iago.  What is your pleasure, madam? How is it with you?   
  Des.  I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes    132
Do it with gentle means and easy tasks;   
He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,   
I am a child to chiding.   
  Iago.        What’s the matter, lady?    136
  Emil.  Alas! Iago, my lord hath so bewhor’d her,   
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,   
As true hearts cannot bear.   
  Des.  Am I that name, Iago?    140
  Iago.        What name, fair lady?   
  Des.  Such as she says my lord did say I was.   
  Emil.  He call’d her whore; a beggar in his drink   
Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.    144
  Iago.  Why did he so?   
  Des.  I do not know; I am sure I am none such.   
  Iago.  Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!   
  Emil.  Has she forsook so many noble matches,    148
Her father and her country and her friends,   
To be call’d whore? would it not make one weep?   
  Des.  It is my wretched fortune.   
  Iago.        Beshrew him for it!    152
How comes this trick upon him?   
  Des.        Nay, heaven doth know.   
  Emil.  I will be hang’d, if some eternal villain,   
Some busy and insinuating rogue,    156
Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office,   
Have not devis’d this slander; I’ll be hang’d else.   
  Iago.  Fie! there is no such man; it is impossible.   
  Des.  If any such there be, heaven pardon him!    160
  Emil.  A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones!   
Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company?   
What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?   
The Moor’s abus’d by some most villanous knave,    164
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.   
O heaven! that such companions thou’dst unfold,   
And put in every honest hand a whip   
To lash the rascals naked through the world,    168
Even from the east to the west!   
  Iago.        Speak within door.   
  Emil.  O! fie upon them. Some such squire he was   
That turn’d your wit the seamy side without,    172
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.   
  Iago.  You are a fool; go to.   
  Des.        O good Iago,   
What shall I do to win my lord again?    176
Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven,   
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:   
If e’er my will did trespass ’gainst his love,   
Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,    180
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,   
Delighted them in any other form;   
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,   
And ever will, though he do shake me off    184
To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,   
Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much;   
And his unkindness may defeat my life,   
But never taint my love. I cannot say ‘whore:’    188
It does abhor me now I speak the word;   
To do the act that might the addition earn   
Not the world’s mass of vanity could make me.   
  Iago.  I pray you be content, ’tis but his humour;    192
The business of the state does him offence,   
And he does chide with you.   
  Des.        If ’twere no other,—   
  Iago.  ’Tis but so, I warrant.  [Trumpets.    196
Hark! how these instruments summon to supper;   
The messengers of Venice stay the meat:   
Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.  [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA.   
 
Enter RODERIGO.
    200
How now, Roderigo!   
  Rod.  I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.   
  Iago.  What in the contrary?   
  Rod.  Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all conveniency, than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure it, nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered.    204
  Iago.  Will you hear me, Roderigo?   
  Rod.  Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and performances are no kin together.   
  Iago.  You charge me most unjustly.   
  Rod.  With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a votarist; you have told me she has received them, and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance, but I find none.    208
  Iago.  Well; go to; very well.   
  Rod.  Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor ’tis not very well: by this hand, I say, it is very scurvy, and begin to find myself fobbed in it.   
  Iago.  Very well.   
  Rod.  I tell you ’tis not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona; if she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of you.    212
  Iago.  You have said now.   
  Rod.  Ay, and said nothing, but what I protest intendment of doing.   
  Iago.  Why, now I see there’s mettle in thee, and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo; thou hast taken against me a most just exception; but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair.   
  Rod.  It hath not appeared.    216
  Iago.  I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valour, this night show it: if thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life.   
  Rod.  Well, what is it? is it within reason and compass?   
  Iago.  Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello’s place.   
  Rod.  Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice.    220
  Iago.  O, no! he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some accident; wherein none can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio.   
  Rod.  How do you mean, removing of him?   
  Iago.  Why, by making him uncapable of Othello’s place; knocking out his brains.   
  Rod.  And that you would have me do?    224
  Iago.  Ay; if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him; he knows not yet of his honourable fortune. If you will watch his going thence,—which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one,—you may take him at your pleasure; I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me; I will show you such a necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high supper-time, and the night grows to waste; about it.   
  Rod.  I will hear further reason for this.   
  Iago.  And you shall be satisfied.  [Exeunt.   

Act IV. Scene III.


Another Room in the Castle.
   
 
Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Attendants.
   
  Lod.  I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.   
  Oth.  O! pardon me; ’twill do me good to walk.      4
  Lod.  Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.   
  Des.  Your honour is most welcome.   
  Oth.        Will you walk, sir?   
O! Desdemona,—      8
  Des.  My lord?   
  Oth.  Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned forthwith; dismiss your attendant there; look it be done.   
  Des.  I will, my lord.  [Exeunt OTHELLO, LODOVICO, and Attendants.   
  Emil.  How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.     12
  Des.  He says he will return incontinent;   
He hath commanded me to go to bed,   
And bade me to dismiss you.   
  Emil.        Dismiss me!     16
  Des.  It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia,   
Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu:   
We must not now displease him.   
  Emil.  I would you had never seen him.     20
  Des.  So would not I; my love doth so approve him,   
That even his stubbornness, his checks and frowns,—   
Prithee, unpin me,—have grace and favour in them.   
  Emil.  I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.     24
  Des.  All’s one. Good faith! how foolish are our minds!   
If I do die before thee, prithee, shroud me   
In one of those same sheets.   
  Emil.        Come, come, you talk.     28
  Des.  My mother had a maid call’d Barbara;   
She was in love, and he she lov’d prov’d mad   
And did forsake her; she had a song of ‘willow;’   
An old thing ’twas, but it express’d her fortune,     32
And she died singing it; that song to-night   
Will not go from my mind; I have much to do   
But to go hang my head all at one side,   
And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.     36
  Emil.  Shall I go fetch your night-gown?   
  Des.        No, unpin me here.   
This Lodovico is a proper man.   
  Emil.  A very handsome man.     40
  Des.  He speaks well.   
  Emil.  I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.   
  Des. 
           The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
     Sing all a green willow;
   Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
     Sing willow, willow, willow:
   The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur’d her moans;
     Sing willow, willow, willow:
   Her salt tears fell from her, and soften’d the stones;—
   
Lay by these:—
           Sing willow, willow, willow:
     44
Prithee, hie thee; he’ll come anon.—
           Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
     Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve,—
   
Nay, that’s not next. Hark! who is it that knocks?   
  Emil.  It is the wind.   
  Des. 
           I call’d my love false love; but what said he then?
     Sing willow, willow, willow:
   If I court moe women, you’ll couch with moe men.
     48
So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch;   
Doth that bode weeping?   
  Emil.        ’Tis neither here nor there.   
  Des.  I have heard it said so. O! these men, these men!     52
Dost thou in conscience think, tell me, Emilia,   
That there be women do abuse their husbands   
In such gross kind?   
  Emil.        There be some such, no question.     56
  Des.  Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?   
  Emil.  Why, would not you?   
  Des.        No, by this heavenly light!   
  Emil.  Nor I neither by this heavenly light;     60
I might do ’t as well i’ the dark.   
  Des.  Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?   
  Emil.  The world is a huge thing; ’tis a great price   
For a small vice.     64
  Des.        In troth, I think thou wouldst not.   
  Emil.  In troth, I think I should, and undo ’t when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but for the whole world, who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for ’t.   
  Des.  Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong   
For the whole world.     68
  Emil.  Why, the wrong is but a wrong i’ the world; and having the world for your labour, ’tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right.   
  Des.  I do not think there is any such woman.   
  Emil.  Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage, as would store the world they played for.   
But I do think it is their husbands’ faults     72
If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties,   
And pour our treasures into foreign laps,   
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,   
Throwing restraint upon us; or, say they strike us,     76
Or scant our former having in despite;   
Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,   
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know   
Their wives have sense like them; they see and smell,     80
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,   
As husbands have. What is it that they do   
When they change us for others? Is it sport?   
I think it is; and doth affection breed it?     84
I think it doth; is ’t frailty that thus errs?   
It is so too; and have not we affections,   
Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?   
Then, let them use us well; else let them know,     88
The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.   
  Des.  Good night, good night; heaven me such usage send,   
Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!  [Exeunt.

Act V. Scene I.


Cyprus. A Street.
   
 
Enter IAGO and RODERIGO.
   
  Iago.  Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come:   
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home.      4
Quick, quick; fear nothing; I’ll be at thy elbow.   
It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,   
And fix most firm thy resolution.   
  Rod.  Be near at hand; I may miscarry in ’t.      8
  Iago.  Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand.  [Retires.   
  Rod.  I have no great devotion to the deed;   
And yet he has given me satisfying reasons:   
’Tis but a man gone: forth, my sword; he dies.     12
  Iago.  I have rubb’d this young quat almost to the sense,   
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,   
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,   
Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo,     16
He calls me to a restitution large   
Of gold and jewels that I bobb’d from him,   
As gifts to Desdemona;   
It must not be: if Cassio do remain,     20
He hath a daily beauty in his life   
That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor   
May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril.   
No, he must die. But so; I hear him coming.     24
 
Enter CASSIO.
   
  Rod.  I know his gait; ’tis he. Villain, thou diest!  [Makes a pass at CASSIO.   
  Cas.  That thrust had been mine enemy indeed   
But that my coat is better than thou know’st;     28
I will make proof of thine.  [Draws, and wounds RODERIGO.   
  Rod.        O! I am slain.  [IAGO from behind wounds CASSIO in the leg, and exit.   
  Cas.  I am maim’d for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder!  [Falls.   
 
Enter OTHELLO, at a distance.
     32
  Oth.  The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word.   
  Rod.  O! villain that I am!   
  Oth.        It is e’en so.   
  Cas.  O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!     36
  Oth.  ’Tis he: O brave Iago, honest and just!   
That hast such noble sense of thy friend’s wrong;   
Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,   
And your unblest fate hies; strumpet, I come!     40
Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;   
Thy bed lust-stain’d shall with lust’s blood be spotted.  [Exit.   
 
Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO, at a distance.
   
  Cas.  What ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder!     44
  Gra.  ’Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.   
  Cas.  O, help!   
  Lod.  Hark!   
  Rod.  O wretched villain!     48
  Lod.  Two or three groan: it is a heavy night;   
These may be counterfeits; let’s think ’t unsafe   
To come in to the cry without more help.   
  Rod.  Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.     52
  Lod.  Hark!   
 
Re-enter IAGO, with a light.
   
  Gra.  Here’s one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.   
  Iago.  Who’s there? whose noise is this that cries on murder?     56
  Lod.  We do not know.   
  Iago.        Did not you hear a cry?   
  Cas.  Here, here! for heaven’s sake, help me.   
  Iago.        What’s the matter?     60
  Gra.  This is Othello’s ancient, as I take it.   
  Lod.  The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.   
  Iago.  What are you here that cry so grievously?   
  Cas.  Iago? O! I am spoil’d, undone by villains!     64
Give me some help.   
  Iago.  O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this?   
  Cas.  I think that one of them is hereabout,   
And cannot make away.     68
  Iago.        O treacherous villains!   
[To LODOVICO and GRATIANO.] What are you there? come in, and give some help.   
  Rod.  O! help me here.   
  Cas.  That’s one of them.     72
  Iago.        O murderous slave! O villain!  [Stabs RODERIGO.   
  Rod.  O damn’d Iago! O inhuman dog!   
  Iago.  Kill men i’ the dark! Where be these bloody thieves?   
How silent is this town! Ho! murder! murder!     76
What may you be? are you of good or evil?   
  Lod.  As you shall prove us, praise us.   
  Iago.  Signior Lodovico?   
  Lod.  He, sir.     80
  Iago.  I cry you mercy. Here’s Cassio hurt by villains.   
  Gra.  Cassio!   
  Iago.  How is it, brother?   
  Cas.  My leg is cut in two.     84
  Iago.        Marry, heaven forbid,   
Light, gentlemen; I’ll bind it with my shirt.   
 
Enter BIANCA.
   
  Bian.  What is the matter, ho? who is ’t that cried?     88
  Iago.  Who is ’t that cried!   
  Bian.  O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio!   
O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!   
  Iago.  O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect     92
Who they should be that have thus mangled you?   
  Cas.  No.   
  Gra.  I am sorry to find you thus; I have been to seek you.   
  Iago.  Lend me a garter. So. O! for a chair,     96
To bear him easily hence!   
  Bian.  Alas! he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!   
  Iago.  Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash   
To be a party in this injury.    100
Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come.   
Lend me a light. Know we this face, or no?   
Alas! my friend and my dear countryman,   
Roderigo? no: yes, sure, O heaven! Roderigo.    104
  Gra.  What! of Venice?   
  Iago  Even he, sir: did you know him?   
  Gra.        Know him! ay.   
  Iago.  Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon;    108
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,   
That so neglected you.   
  Gra.        I am glad to see you.   
  Iago.  How do you, Cassio? O! a chair, a chair!    112
  Gra.  Roderigo!  [A chair brought in.   
  Iago.  He, he, ’tis he.—O! that’s well said; the chair:   
Some good men bear him carefully from hence;   
I’ll fetch the general’s surgeon. [To BIANCA.] For you, mistress,    116
Save you your labour. He that lies slain here, Cassio,   
Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?   
  Cas.  None in the world; nor do I know the man.   
  Iago.  [To BIANCA.] What! look you pale? O! bear him out o’ the air—  [CASSIO and RODERIGO are borne off.    120
Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?—   
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?   
Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.   
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her:    124
Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak   
Though tongues were out of use.   
 
Enter EMILIA.
   
  Emil.  ’Las! what’s the matter? what’s the matter, husband?    128
  Iago.  Cassio hath here been set on in the dark   
By Roderigo and fellows that are ’scap’d:   
He’s almost slain, and Roderigo dead.   
  Emil.  Alas! good gentleman; alas! good Cassio!    132
  Iago.  This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,   
Go know of Cassio where he supp’d to-night.   
What! do you shake at that?   
  Bian.  He supp’d at my house; but I therefore shake not.    136
  Iago.  O! did he so? I charge you, go with me.   
  Emil.  Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!   
  Bian.  I am no strumpet, but of life as honest   
As you that thus abuse me.    140
  Emil.        As I! foh! fie upon thee!   
  Iago.  Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dress’d.   
Come, mistress, you must tell’s another tale.   
Emilia, run you to the citadel,    144
And tell my lord and lady what hath happ’d.   
Will you go on afore? [Aside.] This is the night   
That either makes me or fordoes me quite.  [Exeunt.