SCENE III.
Another Room in the Castle.
Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, and Attendants.
Lod.
I do beseesh you, sir, trouble yourself no further.
Oth.
O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk.
Lod.
Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.
Des.
Your honour is most welcome.
Oth.
Will you walk, sir?—
O,—Desdemona,—
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.
Des.
He says, he will return incontinent;
-- 447 --
He hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you.
Emil.
Dismiss me!
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!
Des.
So would not I; my love doth so approve him,
That even his stubbornness, his checks, and frowns,—
Pr'ythee, unpin me,—have grace and favour in them.
Emil.
I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.
Des.
All's one;—Good father3 note! how foolish are our minds!—
If I do die before thee, pr'ythee, shroud me
In one of those same sheets.
Emil.
Come, come, you talk.
Des.
My mother had a maid call'd—Barbara;
She was in love; and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad,
And did forsake her4 note
: she had a song of—willow,
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she died singing it: That song, to-night,
Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
-- 448 --
But to go hang my head5 note
all at one side,
And sing it like poor Barbara. Pr'ythee, despatch.
Emil.
Shall I go fetch your night-gown?
Des.
No, unpin me here.—
This Lodovico is a proper man.
Emil.
A very handsome man.
Des.
And he speaks well.
Emil.
I know a lady in Venice, who would have
walked barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his nether
lip.
I.
Des.
The poor soul6 note sat sighing7 note by a sycamore tree,
[Singing.
Sing all a green willow8 note
;
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
-- 449 --
The fresh streams9 note
ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
Sing willow, &c.
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
Lay by these:
1
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Pr'ythee, hie thee; he'll come anon.—
1
Sing all a green willow must be my garlánd.
II.
Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve1 note
,—
Nay, that's not next.—Hark! who is it that knocks?
Emil.
It is the wind.
-- 450 --
2
Des.
I call'd my love, false love2 note; but what said he then?
Sing willow, &c.
If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo men3 note
.
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 so4 note.—O, these men, these men!—
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.
Des.
Would'st 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;
I might do't as well i'the dark.
Des.
Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world?
Emil.
The world is a huge thing: 'Tis a great price
For a small vice.
Des.
Good troth, I think thou would'st not.
Emil.
By my troth, I think I should; and undo't,
-- 451 --
when I had done. Marry, I would not do
such a thing for a joint-ring5 note
; nor for measures of
lawn; nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any
petty exhibition: but, for the whole world,—Why,
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.
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 vantage6 note, as would store the world they play'd for.
But, I do think7 note, it is their husbands' faults,
If wives do fall: Say, that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps8 note
;
-- 452 --
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or, say, they strike us,
Or scant our former having9 note in despite;
Why, we have galls; and, though we have some grace,
Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know,
Their wives have sense like them1 note: they see, and smell,
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?
I think, it doth; It's 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,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us so2 note
.
Des.
Good night, good night: Heaven me such usage send3 note,
Not to pick bad from bad; but, by bad, mend!
[Exeunt.
-- 453 --
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
