Iago.
Will you think so?&verbar2; ^note

Oth.
Think so, Iago!

Iago.
What, to kiss in private?

Oth.
An unauthoriz'd kiss?

Iago.
If they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip:
But if I give my wife a handkerchief—

Oth.
What then?

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?

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 heav'n, I would most gladly have forgot it:
Thou said'st,—oh, it comes o'er my memory,
As doth the raven o'er th' infected house,
Boding to ill,—he had my handkerchief.

Iago.
What if I said, I'd seen him do you wrong!
Or heard him say, (as knaves must blab.)

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?

Iago.
Why, that he did—I know not what he did.

Oth.
What? what?

Iago.
Lye—

Oth.
With her?

Iago.
With her; on her—what you will—

Oth.
Lie with her!
I will chop her into messes: cuckold me!

Iago.

Oh, 'tis foul in her.

Oth.
What, with mine officer!

Iago.

That's fouler.

Oth.

Get me some poison, Iago, this night;* ^note I'll not expostulate with her, lest her body and her beauty unprovide my mind again—this night, Iago.

Iago.
Do it not with poison; strangle her in her bed;
Even in 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.

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.

Enter Lodovico and Desdemona.

Lod.
Save you, worthy general.

Oth.
With all my heart, sir.

Lod.
The duke and senators of Venice greet you. [Gives him a letter.

Oth.
I kiss the instruments of their pleasures.

Des.
And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?

Iago.
I am very glad to see you, signior.
Welcome to Cyprus.

Lod.
I thank you. How does lieutenant Cassio?

Iago.
Lives, sir.

Des.
There's fallen between him and my lord
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.

Oth.
Are you sure of that?

Des.
My lord!—

Oth.
This fail you not to do, as you will— [Reads.

Lod.
He did not call; he's busy in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?

Des.
A most unhappy one; I would do much
T' attone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

Oth.
Fire and brimstone!

Des.
My lord!

Oth.
Are you wise?

Des.
What, is he angry?

Lod.
May be the letter mov'd him.
For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.

Des.
Trust me, I'm glad on't.

Oth.
Indeed!

Des.
My lord!

Oth.
I'm glad to see you mad.

Des.
Why, sweet Othello?

Oth.
Devil!— [Striking her.

Des.
I have not deserved this.

Lod.
My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice,
Tho' I should swear I saw't. 'Tis very much;
Make her amends—she weeps.

Oth.
Oh devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,

Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile:
Out of my sight—

Des.
I will not stay t'offend you. [Going.

Lod.
Truly, an obedient lady.
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

Oth.
Mistress—

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:
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—
Concerning this, sir,—oh, 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!—
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 monkies! [Exeunt Othello and Desdemona, severally. Manent Lodovico and Iago.

Lod.
Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senate
Call all-in-all sufficient? What, strike his wife!

Iago.
'Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew
That stroke would prove the worst.

Lod.
Is it his use?
Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new create this fault?

Iago.
Alas, alas!
It is not honesty in me to speak
What I have seen and known.
Do but go after,
And mark how he continues.

Lod.
I'm sorry that I was deceiv'd in him. [Exeunt.

Next section