Iago.
Rodorigo.
Never tell me, I take it much unkindly,
That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse,
As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.
Iago.
But you'll not hear me.
If ever I did dream of such a matter, abhor me.
Rod.
Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.
-- 372 --
Iago.
Despise me,
If I do not. Three Great ones of the city,
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Off-cap'd to him: and, by the faith of man,(2) note
I know my price, I'm worth no worse a Place.
But he, as loving his own pride and purpose,
Evades them with a bombast circumstance,
Horribly stuft with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion,
Non-suits my mediators. “Certes, says he,
“I have already chose my officer.”
And what was he?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
-- 373 --
One Michael Cassio;—(“the Florentine's(3) note
“A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;”)—
-- 374 --
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster; but the bookish theorick,
Wherein the toged couns'lors can propose(4) note
-- 375 --
As masterly as he; meer prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership—he had th' election;
And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds
Christian and heath'n, must be belee'd and calm'd(5) note
By Debitor, and Creditor, this Counter-caster;
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I, (God bless the mark!) his Moor-ship's Ancient.
Rod.
By heav'n, I rather would have been his hangman.
Iago.
But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of service;
Preferment goes by letter and affection,
And not by old gradation, where each second
Stood heir to th' first. Now, Sir, be judge your self,
If I in any just term am assign'd
To love the Moor.
Rod.
I would not follow him then.
Iago.
O Sir, content you;
-- 376 --
I follow him to serve my turn upon him.
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender; and when he's old, casheir'd;
Whip me such honest knaves—Others there are,
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Well thrive by them; and when they've lin'd their coats,
Do themselves homage. These folks have some soul,
And such a one do I profess my self.
It is as sure as you are Rodorigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but my self.
Heav'n is my judge, not I, for love and duty;
But, seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve,
For daws to peck at; I'm not what I seem.
Rod.
What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,
If he can carry her thus?
Iago.
Call up her father;
Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight.
Proclaim him in the streets, incense her kinsmen.
And tho' he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies: tho' that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
As it may lose some colour.
Rod.
Here is her father's house, I'll call aloud.
Iago.
Do, with like timorous accent, and dire yell,
As when, by night and negligence, the fire
Is spied in populous cities.
Rod.
What, ho! Brabantio! Signior Brabantio! ho.
Iago.
Awake! what, ho! Brabantio! ho! thieves! thieves!
-- 377 --
Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags:
Thieves! thieves!
Brabantio appears above, at a window.
Bra.
What is the reason of this terrible summons?
What is the matter there?
Rod.
Signior, is all your family within?
Iago.
Are all doors lock'd?
Bra.
Why? wherefore ask you this?
Iago.
Zounds! Sir, you're robb'd: for shame, put on your Gown;
Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
Ev'n now, ev'n very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise,
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
Or else the Devil will make a grandsire of you.
Arise, I say.
Bra.
What, have you lost your wits?
Rod.
Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?
Bra.
Not I; what are you?
Rod.
My name is Rodorigo.
Bra.
The worse welcome;
I've charg'd thee not to haunt about my doors:
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say,
My daughter's not for thee. And now in madness,
Being full of supper and distemp'ring draughts,
Upon malicious bravery dost thou come
To start my quiet.
Rod.
Sir, Sir, Sir—
Bra.
But thou must needs be sure,
My spirit and my place have in their power
To make this bitter to thee.
Rod.
Patience, good Sir.
Bra.
What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice:
My house is not a grange.
Rod.
Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul, I come to you.
Iago.
Zounds! Sir, you are one of those that will not
serve God, if the Devil bid you. Because we come to do
you service, you think we are ruffians; you'll have your
-- 378 --
daughter cover'd with a Barbary horse, you'll have your
nephews neigh to you; you'll have coursers for cousins,
and gennets for germans.
Bra.
What prophane wretch art thou?
Iago.
I am one, Sir, that comes to tell you, your
daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with
two backs.
Bra.
Thou art a villain.
Iago.
You are a senator.
Bra.
This thou shalt answer. I know thee, Rodorigo.
Rod.
Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech you,
If't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
(As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter,
At this odd even and dull watch o'th' night,
Transported with no worse nor better guard,
But with a knave of hire, a Gundalier,
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor:
If this be known to you, and your allowance,
We then have done you bold and sawcy wrongs.
But if you know not this, my manners tell me,
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,
That from the sense of all civility
I thus would play, and trifle with your reverence.
Your daughter, if you have not giv'n her leave,
I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes
To an extravagant and wheeling stranger,
Of here and every where; straight satisfie your self.
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the State
For thus deluding you.
Bra.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Give me a taper;—call up all my people;—
This accident is not unlike my Dream,
Belief of it oppresses me already.
Light, I say, light!
Iago.
Farewel; for I must leave you.
It seems not meet, nor wholsome to my place,
To be produc'd (as if I stay, I shall)
Against the Moor. For I do know, the State,
-- 379 --
However this may gall him with some check,
Cannot with safety cast him. For he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars,
Which ev'n now stand in act, that, for their souls,
Another of his fadom they have none,
To lead their business. In which regard,
Tho' I do hate him as I do hell's pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,
I must shew out a flag and sign of love:
(Which is, indeed, but sign.) That you may surely find him,
Lead to the Sagittary the raised search;
And there will I be with him. So, farewel.
[Exit.
Enter Brabantio, and servants with torches.
Bra.
It is too true an evil. Gone she is;
And what's to come of my despised time,
Is nought but bitterness. Now, Rodorigo,
Where didst thou see her? oh unhappy girl!
With the Moor, saist thou? who would be a father?
How didst thou know 'twas she; oh, she deceives me
Past thought—What said she to you? get more tapers—
Raise all my kindred—are they married, think you?
Rod.
Truly, I think, they are.
Bra.
Oh heaven! how gat she out?
Oh treason of my blood!
Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters minds
By what you see them act. Are there not charms,
By which the property of youth and maidhood
May be abus'd? have you not read, Rodorigo,
Of some such thing?
Rod.
Yes, Sir, I have, indeed.
Bra.
Call up my brother: oh, would you had had her;
Some one way, some another—Do you know
Where we may apprehend her, and the Moor?
Rod.
I think, I can discover him, if you please
To get good guard, and go along with me.
Bra.
Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call,
I may command at most; get weapons, hoa!
And raise some special officers of might:
On, good Rodorigo, I'll deserve your pains.
[Exeunt.
-- 380 --
Scene 2
SCENE changes to another Street, before the Sagitarry.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants with Torches.
Iago.
Tho' in the trade of war I have slain men,
Yet do I hold it very stuff o'th' conscience
To do no contriv'd murder: I lack iniquity
Sometimes to do me service.—Nine or ten times
I thought to've jerk'd him here under the ribs.
Oth.
It's better as it is.
Iago.
Nay, but he prated,
And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
Against your honour;
That, with the little godliness I have,
I did full hard forbear him. But I pray, Sir,
Are you fast married? for, be sure of this,
That the Magnifico is much belov'd,
And hath in his effect a voice potential(6) note
As double as the Duke's: he will divorce you,
Or put upon you what restraint or grievance
The law (with all his might t' enforce it on)
Will give him cable.
Oth.
Let him do his spight:
My services, which I have done the Signory,
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,
(Which, when I know that Boasting is an honour,
I shall promulgate) I fetch my Life and Being(7) note
-- 381 --
From men of royal siege; and my demerits
May speak, and bonnetted, to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach'd. For know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhoused free condition
Put into circumscription and confine,
For the sea's worth. But look! what lights come yonder?
Enter Cassio, with torches.
Iago.
Those are the raised father, and his friends:
You were best go in.
Oth.
Not I: I must be found,
My parts, my title, and my perfect Soul
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
Iago.
By Janus, I think, no.
Oth.
The Servants of the Duke, and my lieutenant:
The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
What is the news?
Cas.
The Duke does greet you, General;
And he requires your haste, post-haste, appearance,
Even on the instant.
-- 382 --
Oth.
What is the matter, think you?
Cas.
Something from Cyprus, as I may divine:
It is a business of some heat. The Gallies
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
This very night, at one anothers heels:
And many of the Couns'lers, rais'd and met,(8) note
Are at the Duke's already. You have been hotly call'd for,
When, being not at your lodging to be found,
The Senate sent above three several quests,
To search you out.
Oth.
'Tis well I am found by you:
I will but spend a word here in the house,
And go with you.
[Exit Othello.
Cas.
Ancient, what makes he here?
Iago.
Faith, he to night hath boarded a land-carrack;
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.
Cas.
I do not understand.
Iago.
He's married.
Cas.
To whom?
Iago.
Marry to—Come, Captain, will you go?
Enter Othello.
Oth.
Have with you.
Cas.
Here comes another troop to seek for you.
Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, with officers and torches.
Iago.
It is Brabantio: General, be advis'd;
He comes to bad intent.
Oth.
Holla! stand there.
Rod.
Seignior, it is the Moor.
Bra.
Down with him, thief!
[They draw on both sides.
Iago.
You, Rodorigo! come, Sir, I am for you—
Oth.
Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust 'em.
-- 383 --
Good Signior, you shall more command with years,
Than with your weapons.
Bra.
O thou foul thief! where hast thou stow'd my daughter?
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her;
For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
If she in chains of magick were not bound,
Whether a maid, so tender, fair, and happy,
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd(9) note
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,
Would ever have, t'incur a general mock,
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
-- 384 --
Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight?
Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense,(10) note
That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms,
Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs or minerals,
-- 385 --
That weaken Notion.—I'll hav't disputed on;
'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
I therefore apprehend and do attach thee
For an abuser of the world, a practicer
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant;
Lay hold upon him; if he do resist,
Subdue him at his peril.
Oth.
Hold your hands,
Both you of my inclining, and the rest.
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
Without a prompter. Where will you I go
To answer this your charge?
Bra.
To prison, 'till fit time
Of law, and course of direct Session
Call thee to answer.
Oth.
What if I do obey?
How may the Duke be therewith satisfied,
Whose messengers are here about my side,
Upon some present business of the State,
To bring me to him?
Offi.
True, most worthy signior,
The Duke's in Council; and your noble self,
I'm sure, is sent for.
Bra.
How! the Duke in Council?
In this time of the night? bring him away;
Mine's not an idle cause. The Duke himself,
Or any of my Brothers of the State,
Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own;
For if such actions may have passage free,(11) note
Bond-slaves and Pageants shall our Statesmen be.
[Exeunt.
-- 386 --
Scene 3
SCENE changes to the Senate House.
Duke and Senators, set at a table with lights, and attendants.
Duke.
There is no composition in these news,
That gives them credit.
1 Sen.
Indeed, they're disproportion'd;
My letters say, a hundred and seven Gallies.
Duke.
And mine, a hundred and forty.
2 Sen.
And mine, two hundred;
But though they jump not on a just account,
(As in these cases, where they aim reports,
'Tis oft with diff'rence;) yet do they all confirm
A Turkish Fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
Duke.
Nay, it is possible enough to judgment;
I do not so secure me in the error,
But the main article I do approve,
In fearful sense.
Sailors within.]
What hoa! what hoa! what hoa!
Enter Sailor.
Offi.
A messenger from the Gallies.
Duke.
Now!—what's the business?
Sail.
The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes,
So was I bid report here to the State.
Duke.
How say you by this change?
1 Sen.
This cannot be,
By no assay of reason. 'Tis a pageant,
-- 387 --
To keep us in false gaze; when we consider
Th' importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
And let our selves again but understand,
That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question bear it;(12) note
For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
But altogether lacks th' abilities
That Rhodes is dress'd in. If we make thought of this,
We must not think the Turk is so unskilful,
To leave that latest, which concerns him first;
Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,
To wake, and wage, a danger profitless.
Duke.
Nay, in all confidence he's not for Rhodes.
Offi.
Here is more news.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
The Ottomites, (reverend and gracious,)
Steering with due course toward the Isle of Rhodes,
Have there injoin'd them with an after fleet—
1 Sen.
Ay, so I thought; how many, as you guess?
Mes.
Of thirty sail; and now they do re-stem
Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
Their Purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
Your trusty and most valiant Servitor,
With his free duty, recommends you thus,
And prays you to believe him.
Duke.
'Tis certain then for Cyprus: Marcus Luccicos,
Is he not here in town?
1 Sen.
He's now in Florence.
-- 388 --
Duke.
Write from us, to him, post, post-haste, dispatch.
1 Sen.
Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant Moor.
To them, enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Rodorigo, and Officers.
Duke.
Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you,
Against the general enemy Ottoman.
I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
[To Braban.
We lack'd your counsel, and your help to night.
Bra.
So did I yours; good your Grace, pardon me;
Neither my place, nor ought I heard of business,
Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the general
Take hold on me: For my particular grief
Is of so flood-gate and o'er-bearing nature,
That it ingluts and swallows other sorrows,
And yet is still it self.
Duke.
Why? what's the matter?
Bra.
My daughter! oh my daughter!—
Sen.
Dead?—
Bra.
To me;
She is abus'd, stolen from me, and corrupted
By spells and medicines, bought of mountebanks;
For nature so preposterously to err,
(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,)
Sans Witchcraft could not—
Duke.
Who-e'er he be, that in this foul proceeding
Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of her self,
And you of her, the bloody book of law
You shall your self read in the bitter letter,
After your own sense; yea, though our proper Son
Stood in your action.
Bra.
Humbly I thank your Grace.
Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,
Your special mandate, for the State-affairs,
Hath hither brought.
All.
We're very sorry for't.
Duke.
What in your own part can you say to this?
[To Othel.
Bra.
Nothing, but this is so.
Oth.
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
-- 389 --
My very noble and approv'd good masters;
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her;
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years Pith,
'Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broils and battel;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking for my self. Yet, by your patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magick,
(For such proceeding I am charg'd withal,)
I won his daughter with.
Bra.
A maiden, never bold;
Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
Blush'd at it self; and she, in spight of nature,
Of years, of country, credit, every thing,
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on—
It is a judgment maim'd, and most imperfect,(13) note
That will confess, Affection so could err
-- 390 --
Against all rules of nature; and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning hell,
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again,
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram, conjur'd to this effect,
He wrought upon her.
Duke.
To vouch this, is no proof,
Without more certain and more overt test,
Than these thin habits and poor likelyhoods
Of modern Seeming do prefer against him.
1 Sen.
But, Othello, speak;
Did you by indirect and forced courses
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?
Oth.
I beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
And let her speak of me before her father;
If you do find me foul in her report,
The Trust, the Office, I do hold of you,
Not only take away, but let your Sentence
Even fall upon my life.
Duke.
Fetch Desdemona hither.
[Exeunt two or three.
Oth.
Ancient, conduct them, you best know the place.
[Exit Iago.
And 'till she come, as truly as to heav'n
I do confess the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And she in mine.
Duke.
Say it, Othello.
Oth.
Her father lov'd me, oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battels, sieges, fortunes,
That I have past.
I ran it through, e'en from my boyish days,
To th' very moment that he bad me tell it:
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;
Of hair-breadth scapes in th' imminent deadly breach;
-- 391 --
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And portance in my travel's history:
Wherein of antres vast, and desarts idle, (14) note
Rough quarries, rocks and hills, whose heads touch heav'n,
It was my hint to speak; such was the process;(15) note
-- 392 --
And of the Canibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi; and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders. All these to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline;
But still the house-affairs would draw her thence,
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate;
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not distinctively: I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
She swore, “In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange,
“'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful”—
She wish'd, she had not heard it;—yet she wish'd,
That heav'n had made her such a man:—she thank'd me,
And bad me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. On this hint I spake,
-- 393 --
She lov'd me for the dangers I had past,
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them:
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd.
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants.
Duke.
I think, this tale would win my daughter too—
Good Brabantio,
-- 394 --
Take up this mangled matter at the best.
Men do their broken weapons rather use,
Than their bare hands.
Bra.
I pray you, hear her speak;
If she confess that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress,
Do you perceive in all this noble company,
Where you most owe obedience?
Des.
My noble father,
I do perceive here a divided duty;
To you I'm bound for life and education:
My life and education both do learn me
How to respect you. You're the lord of duty;
I'm hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband;
And so much duty as my mother shew'd
To you, preferring you before her father;
So much I challenge, that I may profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.
Bra.
God be with you: I have done.
Please it your Grace, on to the State-affairs;
I had rather to adopt a child than get it.
Come hither, Moor:
I here do give thee That with all my heart,
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,
I'm glad at soul I have no other child;
For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.
Duke.
Let me speak like your self; and lay a Sentence,
Which, as a grise, or step, may help these lovers
Into your favour—
When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Is the next way to draw new Mischief on.
What cannot be preserv'd when Fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
The robb'd, that smiles, steals something from the thief;
He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.
-- 395 --
Bra.
So, let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile,
We lose it not, so long as we can smile;
He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
But the free comfort which from thence he hears;
But he bears both the sentence, and the sorrow,
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
These sentences to sugar, or to gall.
Being strong on both sides, are equivocal.
But words are words; I never yet did hear.(16) note
That the bruis'd heart was pieced through the ear.—
Beseech you, now to the affairs o'th' State.
Duke.
The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes
for Cyprus: Othello, the fortitude of the place is best
known to you. And though we have there a substitute
of most allowed sufficiency; yet opinion, a sovereign
mistress of effects, throws a more safe voice on you; you
must therefore be content to slubber the gloss of your new
fortunes, with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.
Oth.
The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down. I do agnize
A natural and prompt alacrity,
-- 396 --
I find it hardness; and do undertake
This present war against the Ottomites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your State,
I crave fit disposition for my wife,
Due reference of place and exhibition,
With such accommodation and besort
As levels with her breeding.
Duke.
Why, at her father's.
Bra.
I will not have it so.
Oth.
Nor I.
Des.
Nor would I there reside,
To put my father in impatient thoughts
By being in his eye. Most gracious Duke,
To my unfolding lend your gracious ear,
And let me find a charter in your voice
T' assist my simpleness.
Duke.
What would you, Desdemona?
Des.
That I did love the Moor to live with him,
My down-right violence and storm of fortunes
May trumpet to the world. My heart's subdu'd
Ev'n to the very quality of my lord;
I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
And to his honours and his valiant parts
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind
A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites, for which I love him, are bereft me:
And I a heavy interim shall support,
By his dear absence. Let me go with him.
Oth.
Your voices, lords; beseech you, let her will
Have a free way. I therefore beg it not,(17) note
-- 397 --
To please the palate of my appetite;
Nor to comply with heat, the young Affects,
In my distinct and proper Satisfaction;
But to be free and bounteous to her mind.
And heav'n defend your good souls, that you think,
I will your serious and great business scant,
For she is with me.—No, when light-wing'd toys
Of feather'd Cupid foil with wanton dulness
My speculative and offic'd instruments,
That my disports corrupt and taint my business;
Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
And all indign and base adversities
Make head against my estimation.
Duke.
Be it as you shall privately determine,
Or for her stay or going; th' affair cries haste;
And speed must answer. You must hence to night.
Des.
To night, my lord?
Duke.
This night.
Oth.
With all my heart.
Duke.
At nine i'th' morning here we'll meet again.
-- 398 --
Othello, leave some officer behind,
And he shall our commission bring to you;
And such things else of quality and respect
As doth import you.
Oth.
Please your Grace, my Antient;
(A man he is of honesty and trust,)
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good Grace shall think
To be sent after me.
Duke.
Let it be so;
Good night to every one. And, noble Signior,
If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
Sen.
Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.
Bra.
Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see,
She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.
[Exit Duke, with Senators.
Oth.
My life upon her faith.—Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee;
I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her;
And bring her after in the best advantage.
Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matter and direction
To speak with thee. We must obey the time.
[Exeunt.
Manent Rodorigo and Iago.
Rod.
Iago—
Iago.
What sayest thou, noble heart?
Rod.
What will I do, thinkest thou?
Iago.
Why, go to bed and sleep.
Rod.
I will incontinently drown myself.
Iago.
Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee after.
Why, thou silly gentleman!
Rod.
It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment;
and then have we a prescription to dye, when death is our
physician.
Iago.
O villainous! I have look'd upon the world for
four times seven years, and since I could distinguish betwixt
a benefit and an injury, I never found man that
knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I would
-- 399 --
drown my self for the love of a Guinney-hen, I would
change my humanity with a baboon.
Rod.
What should I do? I confess, it is my shame to
be so fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
Iago.
Virtue? a fig: 'tis in our selves that we are thus
or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our
wills are gardiners. So that if we will plant nettles, or
sow lettuce; set hyssop, and weed up thyme; supply it
with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many; either
have it steril with idleness, or manured with industry;
why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in
our will. (18) note
If the beam of our lives had not one scale
of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and
baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous
conclusions. But we have reason, to cool our raging
motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof
I take this, that you call love, to be a sect, or syen.
-- 400 --
Rod.
It cannot be.
Iago.
It is meerly a lust of the blood, and a permission
of the will. Come, be a man: drown thy self? drown
cats and blind puppies. I have profest me thy friend, and
I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable
toughness. I could never better steed thee than
now. Put mony in thy purse; follow thou these wars;
defeat thy favour with an usurped beard; I say, put mony
in thy purse. It cannot be, that Desdemona should long
continue her love to the Moor—put mony in thy purse—
nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement in her,
and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration,—pur but
mony in thy purse.—These Moors are changeable in
their wills;—fill thy purse with mony. (19) noteThe
food, that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall shortly
be as bitter as coloquintida. When she is sated with his
body, she will find the errors of her choice.—She
must have change, she must: therefore put mony in thy
purse—If thou wilt needs damn thy self, do it a more
delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou
canst. If sanctimony and a frail vow, betwixt an erring
Barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian, be not too hard for
my wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her;
therefore make mony. A pox of drowning thy self! it
is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be hang'd
in compassing thy joy, than to be drown'd and go without
her.
-- 401 --
Rod.
Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on
the issue?
Iago.
Thou art sure of me.—Go, make mony.—I
have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I
hate the Moor. My cause is hearted; thine hath no less
reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him.
If thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thy self a pleasure,
and me a sport. There are many events in the womb of
time, which will be delivered. Traverse, go, provide thy
mony. We will have more of this to morrow. Adieu.
Rod.
Where shall we meet i'th' morning?
Iago.
At my lodging.
Rod.
I'll be with thee betimes.
Iago.
Go to, farewel. Do you hear, Rodorigo?
Rod.
What say you?
Iago.
No more of drowning, do you hear.
Rod.
I am chang'd, I'll go sell all my land.
[Exit.
Manet Iago.
Iago.
Go to, farewel, put mony enough in your purse—
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If I should time expend with such a snipe,
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor,
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
He has done my office I know not, if't be true—
But I, for meer suspicion in that kind,
Will do, as if for surety. He holds me well—
The better shall my purpose work on him;
Cassio's a proper man: let me see now;—
To get his Place, and to plume up my Will,
A double knavery—How? how?—let's see—
After some time, t'abuse Othello's ear,
That he is too familiar with his wife—
He hath a person, and a smooth dispose,
To be suspected; fram'd to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
And will as tenderly be led by th' nose,
As asses are:
-- 402 --
I hav't—it is ingendred—Hell and Night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
[Exit.
ACT II.
Scene 1
SCENE, The Capital City of Cyprus.
Enter Montano Governor of Cyprus, and Gentlemen.
Montano.
What from the cape can you discern at sea?
1 Gent.
Nothing at all, it is a high-wrought flood;
I cannot 'twixt the heaven and the main
Descry a sail.
Mont.
Methinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at land;
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements;
If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,(20) note
Can hold the morties? what shall we hear of this?
-- 403 --
2 Gent.
A segregation of the Turkish fleet;
For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
The chiding billows seem to pelt the clouds;
The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous main,
Seems to cast water on the burning Bear,
And quench the guards of th' ever fired pole;
I never did like molestation view
On the enchafed flood.
Mont.
If that the Turkish fleet
Be not inshelter'd and embay'd, they're drown'd;
It is impossible to bear it out.
Enter a third Gentleman.
3 Gent.
News, lords, our wars are done:
The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,
That their designment halts. A noble ship of Venice(21) note
Hath seen a grievous wrack and sufferance
On most part of the fleet.
Mont.
How! is this true?
-- 404 --
3 Gent.
The Ship is here put in,(22) note
A Veronessa; Michael Cassio,
Lieutenant of the warlike Moor Othello,
Is come on shore; the Moor himself's at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
Mont.
I'm glad on't; 'tis a worthy Governor.
3 Gent.
But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort,
Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,
And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.
Mont.
Pray heav'ns, he be:
For I have serv'd him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let's to the sea-side,
As well to see the vessel that's come in,
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and th' aerial blue
An indistinct regard.
Gent.
Come, let's do so;
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
Enter Cassio.
Cas.
Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle,
That so approve the Moor: oh, let the heav'ns
-- 405 --
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea.
Mont.
Is he well shipp'd?
Cas.
His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot
Of very expert and approv'd allowance;
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.
Within.]
A sail, a sail, a sail!
Cas.
What noise?
Gent.
The town is empty; on the brow o'th' sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry, a sail.
Cas.
My hopes do shape him for the Governor.
Gent.
They do discharge their shot of courtesie:
Our friends, at least.
Cas.
I pray you, Sir, go forth,
And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd.
Gent.
I shall.
[Exit.
Mont.
But, good lieutenant, is your General wiv'd?
Cas.
Most fortunately, he hath atchiev'd a maid
That paragons description and wild fame:
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
And in th' essential vesture of creation
Do's bear all excellency—
Enter Gentleman.
How now? who has put in?
Gent.
'Tis one Iago, Ancient to the General.
Cas.
H'as had most favourable and happy speed;
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds;
The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands,
(Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel;)
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting safe go by
The divine Desdemona.
Mont.
What is she?
Cas.
She that I spake of, our great Captain's captain,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago;
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts,
A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello, guard!
-- 406 --
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extinguish'd spirits,
And bring all Cyprus comfort—
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Æmilia.
O behold!
The riches of the ship is come on shore:
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heav'n,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand
Enwheel thee round.
Des.
I thank you, valiant Cassio,
What tidings can you tell me of my lord?
Cas.
He is not yet arriv'd, nor know I aught
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.
Des.
O, but I fear—how lost you company?
Cas.
The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship. But, hark, a sail!
Within.]
A sail, a sail!
Gent.
They give this greeting to the Cittadel:
This likewise is a friend.
Cas.
See for the news:
Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome, mistress.
[To Æmilia.
Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
That I extend my manners. 'Tis my breeding,
That gives me this bold shew of courtesie.
Iago.
Sir, would she give you so much of her lips,
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'd have enough.
Des.
Alas! she has no speech.
Iago.
In faith, too much;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep;
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.
Æmil.
You have little cause to say so.
-- 407 --
Iago.
Come on, come on; you're pictures out of doors,
Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds!
Des.
O, fie upon thee, slanderer!
Iago.
Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk;
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.
Æmil.
You shall not write my praise.
Iago.
No, let me not.
Des.
What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?
Iago.
Oh gentle lady, do not put me to't,
For I am nothing, if not critical.
Des.
Come, one assay. There's one gone to the harbour—
Iago.
Ay, Madam.
Des.
I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise;—
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
Iago.
I am about it; but, indeed, my invention comes
from my pate, as birdlime does from freeze, it plucks
out brains and all. But my muse labours, and thus she is
delivered.
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth it.
Des.
Well prais'd; how if she be black and witty?
Iago.
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.
Des.
Worse and worse.
Æmil.
How if fair and foolish?
Iago.
She never yet was foolish, that was fair;
For even her folly helpt her to an heir.
Des.
These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools
laugh i'th' alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for
her that's foul and foolish?
Iago.
There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks, which fair and wise ones do.
-- 408 --
Des.
Oh heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best.
But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman
indeed? (23) note
one, that in the authority of her merit, did
justly put down the vouch of very malice it self?
Iago.
She that was ever fair, and never proud,
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud;
Never lackt gold, and yet went never gay,
Fled from her wish, and yet said, now I may;
She that when anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly;
She that in wisdom never was so frail
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following, and not look behind;
She was a wight, (if ever such wight were)—
Des.
To do what?
Iago.
To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.
Des.
Oh most lame and impotent conclusion! do not
-- 409 --
learn of him, Æmilia, tho' he be thy husband. (24) noteHow
say you, Cassio, is he not a profane and liberal censurer?
Cas.
He speaks home, Madam; you may relish him
more in the soldier, than in the scholar.
Iago. [Aside.]
He takes her by the palm; ay, well
said—whisper—With as little a web as this, will I ensnare
as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do—
I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You say true,
'tis so, indeed—.If such tricks as these strip you out of
your lieutenancy, it had been better you had not kiss'd
your three fingers so oft, which now again you are most apt
to play the Sir in. Very good—well kiss'd and excellent
courtesie—'tis so, indeed—Yet again—your fingers
to your lips? would, they were clister-pipes for your sake.
[Trumpet.
The Moor,—I know his trumpet.
Cas.
'Tis truly so.
Des.
Let's meet him, and receive him.
Cas.
Lo, where he comes!
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
Oth.
Oh my fair warrior!
Des.
My dear Othello!
Oth.
It gives me wonder, great as my content,
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow 'till they have waken'd death:
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus high; and duck again as low
As hell's from heav'n! If I were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
-- 410 --
Des.
The heav'ns forbid,
But that our loves and comforts should encrease,
Ev'n as our days do grow!
Oth.
Amen to that, sweet Powers!
I cannot speak enough of this content,
It stops me here: it is too much of joy.
And this, and this, the greatest discords be
[Kissing her.
That e'er our hearts shall make!
Iago.
Oh, you are well-tun'd now; but I'll let down
the pegs that make this musick, as honest as I am.
[Aside.
Oth.
Come, let's to the castle.
Now, friends, our wars are done; the Turks are drown'd.
How do our old acquaintance of this isle?
Honey, you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus,
I've found great love amongst them. Oh my Sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comfort. Pr'ythee, good Iago,
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou the master to the cittadel,
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.
Manent Iago and Rodorigo.
Iago.
Do you meet me presently at the harbour. Come
thither, if thou be'st valiant; (as, they say, base men,
being in love, have then a nobility in their natures, more
than is native to them)—list me; the lieutenant to night
watches on the Court of Guard. First, I must tell thee,
this Desdemona is directly in love with him.
Rod.
With him? why, 'tis not possible?
Iago.
Lay thy fingers thus; and let thy soul be instructed.
Mark me with what violence she first lov'd the
Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical lies.
And will she love him still for prating? let not thy discreet
heart think it. Her eye must be fed. And what
-- 411 --
delight shall she have to look on the Devil? (25) noteWhen
the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should
be again to inflame it, and to give Satiety a fresh appetite,
loveliness in favour, sympathy in years, manners,
and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in. Now,
for want of these requir'd conveniences, her delicate tenderness
will find it self abus'd, begin to heave the gorge,
disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct
her in it, and compel her to some second choice. Now,
Sir, this granted, (as it is a most pregnant and unforc'd
position) who stands so eminent in the degree of this
fortune, as Cassio does? a knave very voluble; no further
conscionable, than in putting on the meer form of
civil and humane Seeming, for the better compassing of his
salt and most hidden loose affection; a slippery and subtile
knave, a finder of occasions, that has an eye can
stamp and counterfeit advantages, tho' true advantage
never present it self. A devilish knave! besides, the
knave is handsom, young, and hath all those requisites in
him, that folly and green minds look after. A pestilent
compleat knave! and the woman hath found him already.
Rod.
I cannot believe that of her, she's full of most
bless'd condition.
Iago.
Bless'd figs' end! the wine she drinks is made of
grapes. If she had been bless'd, she would never have
lov'd the Moor: bless'd pudding! didst thou not see her
paddle with the palm of his hand? didst not mark
that?
-- 412 --
Rod.
Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesie.
Iago.
Letchery, by this hand; an index, and obscure
prologue to the history of lust, and foul thoughts. They
met so near with their lips, that their breaths embrac'd
together. Villanous thoughts, Rodorigo! when these
mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the
master and main exercise, th' incorporate conclusion:
pish—But, Sir, be you rul'd by me. I have brought
you from Venice. Watch you to night; for the command,
I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows you not: I'll
not be far from you. Do you find some occasion to anger
Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his
discipline, or from what other course you please, which
the time shall more favourably minister.
Rod.
Well.
Iago.
Sir, he's rash, and very sudden in choler: and,
happily, may strike at you. Provoke him, that he may;
for even out of that will I cause those of Cyprus to mutiny:
whose qualification shall come into no true taste
again, but by displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a
shorter journey to your desires, by the means I shall then
have to prefer them: And the impediments most profitably
removed, without which there was no expectation
of our prosperity.
Rod.
I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity.
Iago.
I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the cittadel.
I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewel.
Rod.
Adieu.
[Exit.
Manet Iago.
Iago.
That Cassio loves her, I do well believe:
That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of great credit.
The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature;
And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona
A most dear Husband. Now I love her too,
Not out of absolute lust, (though, peradventure,
I stand accountant for as great a sin;)
-- 413 --
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect, the lusty Moor
Hath leapt into my seat. The thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
And nothing can, or shall, content my soul,
Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife:
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousie so strong,
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,(26) note
If this poor brach of Venice, whom I trace
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the right garb;
(For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too,)
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me,
For making him egregiously an ass;
And practising upon his peace and quiet,
Even to madness. 'Tis here—but yet confus'd;
Knavery's plain face is never seen, till us'd.
[Exit.
Scene 2
SCENE, the Street.
Enter Herald with a Proclamation.
Her.
It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant
General, that upon certain tidings now arriv'd,
importing the meer perdition of the Turkish fleet, every
-- 414 --
man put himself into triumph: some to dance, some to
make bonefires, each man to what sport and revels his
mind leads him. For, besides this beneficial news, it is
the celebration of his nuptials. 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. Bless the isle of Cyprus,
and our noble General Othello!
[Exit.
Scene 3
SCENE, the Castle.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.
Oth.
Good Michael, look you to the guard to night.
Let's teach our selves that honourable stop,
Not to out-sport discretion.
Cas.
Iago hath direction what to do:
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
Will I look to't.
Oth.
Iago is most honest:
Michael, good night. To morrow, with your earliest,
Let me have speech with you. Come, my dear love,
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
Good night.
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.
Enter Iago.
Cas.
Welcome, Iago; we must to the Watch.
Iago.
Not this hour, lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten o'th'
clock. Our General cast us thus early for the love of
his Desdemona: whom 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's a most fresh and delicate creature.
-- 415 --
Iago.
What an eye she has? methinks, it sounds a
parley to 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.
Iago.
Well, happiness to their sheets: come, lieutenant,
I have a stoop of wine, and here without are a
brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a measure
to the health of the black Othello.
Cas.
Not to night, good Iago: I have very poor and
unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish, courtesie
would invent some other custom of entertainment.
Iago.
Oh, 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.
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 Cassio.
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, Rodorigo,
Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
To Desdemona hath to night carouz'd
Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch.
Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,
(That hold their honours in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,)
Have I to night fluster'd with flowing cups,
And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards,
Am I to put our Cassio in some action
That may offend the isle. But here they come.
-- 416 --
If consequence do but approve my Deem,(27) note
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen.
Cas.
'Fore heav'n, they have given me a rouse already.
Mont.
Good faith, a little one: not past a pint, as I
am a soldier.
Iago.
Some wine, ho!
[Iago sings.
And let me the canakin clink, clink,
And let me the canakin clink.
A soldier's a man; oh, man's life's but a span;
Why, then let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys.
Cas.
'Fore heav'n, an excellent song.
Iago.
I learn'd it in England: where, indeed, they are
most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German, and
your swag-belly'd Hollander,—Drink, ho!—are nothing
to your English.
Cas.
Is your Englishman so exquisite in his drinking?
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 fill'd.
Cas.
To the health of our General.
Mont.
I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you justice.
Iago.
Oh sweet England.
King Stephen was an a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them six pence all too dear,
With that he call'd the tailor lown.
-- 417 --
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.
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—Heaven's above all;
and there be souls that must be saved, and there be souls
must not be saved.
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. Forgive 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. I am not drunk now; I can
stand well enough, and I speak well enough.
Gent.
Excellent well.
Cas.
Why, very well then: you must not think then
that I am drunk.
[Exit.
Manent Iago and Montano.
Mont.
To the platform, masters, come, let's set the Watch.
Iago.
You see this fellow, that is gone before;
He is a soldier, fit to stand by Cæsar,
And give direction. And do but see his vice;
'Tis to his virtues a just equinox,
The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pity of him;
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?
Iago.
'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.
-- 418 --
He'll watch the horologue a double set,
If drink rock not his cradle.
Mont.
It were well,
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?
Enter Rodorigo.
Iago.
How now, Rodorigo!
I pray you, after the lieutenant, go.
[Exit Rod.
Mont.
And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a Place as his own Second,
With one of an ingraft infirmity;
It were an honest action to say so
Unto the Moor.
Iago.
Not I, for this fair island;
I do love Cassio well, and would do much
To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noise?
[Within,
help! help
Re-enter Cassio, pursuing Rodorigo.
Cas.
You rogue! you rascal!—
Mont.
What's the matter, lieutenant?
Cas.
A knave teach me my duty! I'll beat the knave
into a twiggen bottle.
Rod.
Beat me—
Cas.
Dost thou prate, rogue?
Mont.
Nay, good lieutenant;
[Staying him.
I pray you, Sir, hold your hand.
Cas.
Let me go, Sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.
Mont.
Come, come, you're drunk.
Cas.
Drunk?—
[They fight.
Iago.
Away, I say, go out and cry a mutiny.
[Exit Rodorigo.
Nay, good lieutenant—Alas, gentlemen—
Help, ho!—Lieutenant—Sir—Montano—
Help, masters! here's a goodly watch, indeed—
-- 419 --
Who's that, who rings the bell—diablo, ho!
[Bell rings.
The town will rise. Fie, fie, lieutenant! hold:
You will be sham'd for ever.
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
Oth.
What is the matter here?
Mont.
I bleed still, I am hurt, but not to th' death.
Oth.
Hold, for your lives.
Iago.
Hold, ho! lieutenant—Sir—Montano—Gentlemen—
Have you forgot all place of sense and duty?
The General speaks to you—hold, hold, for shame—
Oth.
Why, how now, ho? from whence ariseth this?
Are we turn'd Turks? and to our selves do That,
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.
Silence that dreadful bell; it frights the isle
From her propriety. What is the matter?
Honest Iago, that looks dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.
Iago.
I do not know; friends all, but now, even now
In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
Divesting them for bed; and then, but now—
(As if some planet had unwitted men,)
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breasts,
In opposition bloody. I can't speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds,
And, would, in action glorious I had lost
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:
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,
-- 420 --
And spend your rich opinion, for the name
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.
Mont.
Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger;
Your officer, Iago, can inform you,
While I spare speech, which something now offends me,
Of all that I do know; nor know I ought
By me that's said or done amiss this night,
Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend our selves it be a sin,
When violence assails us.
Oth.
Now, by heav'n,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule,
And passion, having my best judgment choler'd,
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
How this foul rout began; who set it on;
And he, that is approv'd in this offence,
Tho' he had twinn'd with me both at a birth,
Shall lose me.—What, in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brim-full of fear,
To manage private and domestick quarrel?
In night, and on the Court of Guard and Safety?(28) note
'Tis monstrous. Say, Iago, who began't?
Mont.
If partially affin'd, or leagu'd in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.
-- 421 --
Iago.
Touch me not so near:
I'd rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio:
Yet I perswade my self, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus 'tis, General:
Montano and my self 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
Steps in to Cassio, and intreats his pause;
My self the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest by his clamour (as it so fell out)
The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot,
Out-ran my purpose: 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,
(For this was brief) I found them close together
At blow and thrust; even as again they were,
When you your self did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report.
But men are men; the best sometimes forget;
Tho' Cassio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, receiv'd
From him, that fled, some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.
Oth.
I know, Iago,
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
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:
I'll make thee an example.
Des.
What's the matter?
Oth.
All is well, Sweeting, come, away to bed.
Sir, for your hurts, my self will be your surgeon.
Lead him off:
Iago, look with care about the town,
-- 422 --
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
Come, Desdemona, 'tis the soldier's life,
To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.
[Exeunt.
Manent Iago and Cassio.
Iago.
What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Cas.
Past all Surgery.
Iago.
Marry, heav'n forbid!
Cas.
Reputation, reputation, reputation! oh I have
lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of my
self, and what remains is bestial. My reputation! Iago,
my reputation—
Iago.
As I am an honest man, I had thought, you had
received some bodily wound; there is more sense 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 your self 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's
yours.
Cas.
I will rather sue to be despis'd, 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
ones own shadow? oh 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 follow'd with your sword?
what had he done to you?
Cas.
I know not.
Iago.
Is't possible?
Cas.
I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly:
a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that
men should put an enemy in their mouths, to steal away
their brains! that we should with joy, pleasance, revel,
and applause, transform our selves into beasts.
Iago.
Why, but you are now well enough: how came
you thus recover'd?
-- 423 --
Cas.
It has pleas'd the devil, drunkenness, to give place
to the devil, wrath; one unperfectness shews me another,
to make me frankly despise my self.
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!—
Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a
devil.
Iago.
Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature,
if it be well us'd: exclaim no more against it. And,
good lieutenant, I think, you think, I love you.
Cas.
I have well approv'd it, Sir. I drunk!
Iago.
You, or any man living, may be drunk at some
time, man. I 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(29) note
. Confess your self freely to her: importune
her help, to put you in your Place again. She is of so
free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it
a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested.
-- 424 --
This broken joint, between you and her husband, intreat
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.
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 Cassio.
Manet Iago.
Iago.
And what's he then, that says, I play the villain?
When this advice is free I give, and honest,
Likely to thinking, and, indeed, the course
To win the Moor again. For 'tis most easie
Th' inclining Desdemona to subdue
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,
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. Am I then a villain,
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
Directly to his Good? Divinity of Hell!
When Devils will their blackest sins put on,
They do suggest at first with heav'nly Shews,
As I do now.—For while this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune,
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor;
I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,
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;
-- 425 --
And out of her own goodness make the net,
That shall enmesh them all. How now, Rodorigo!
Enter Rodorigo.
Rod.
I do follow here in the chace, not like a hound
that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My mony 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 mony
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 withcraft;
And wit depends on dilatory time:
Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,
And thou by that small hurt hast cashier'd Cassio.
Tho' other things grow fair against the Sun,
Yet fruits, that blossom first, will first be ripe:
Content thy self a while. In troth, 'tis morning;
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billetted:
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get thee gone.
[Exit Rodorigo.
Two things are to be done;(30) note
My Wife must move for Cassio to her mistress:
I'll set her on:—
My self, the while, to draw the Moor apart,
-- 426 --
And bring him jump, when he may Cassio find
Solliciting his Wife: ay, that's the way:
Dull not, Device, by coldness and delay.
[Exit.
ACT III.
Scene 1
SCENE, before Othello's Palace.
Enter Cassio, with Musicians.
Cassio.
Masters, play here, I will content your pains,
Something that's brief; and bid, good morrow, General.
[Musick plays; and enter Clown from the House.
Clown.
Why, masters, have your instruments been in
Naples, that they speak i'th' nose thus?
Mus.
How, Sir, how?
Clown.
Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?
Mus.
Ay, marry are they, Sir.
Clown.
Oh, thereby hangs a tail.
Mus.
Whereby hangs a tale, Sir?
Clown.
Marry, Sir, by many a wind-instrument that I
know. But, Masters, here's money for you: and the
General so likes your musick, that he desires you for loves
sake to make no more noise with it.
Mus.
Well, Sir, we will not.
Clown.
If you have any musick that may not be heard,
to't again: But, as they say, to hear musick, the General
does not greatly care.
Mus.
We have none such, Sir.
Clown.
Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll
away. Go, vanish into air, away.
[Exeunt Mus.
-- 427 --
Cas.
Dost thou hear, mine honest friend?(31) note
Clown.
No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.
Cas.
Pr'ythee, 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 of her a little favour of speech. Wilt thou do
this?
Clown.
She is stirring, Sir; if she will stir hither, I
shall seem to notifie unto her.
[Exit Clown.
Cas.
Do, my good friend.
To him, enter Iago.
In happy time, Iago.
Iago.
You have not been a-bed then?
Cas.
Why, no; the day had broke, before we parted.
I have made bold to send in to your wife;
My suit is, that she will to Desdemona
Procure me some access.
Iago.
I'll send her presently;
And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor
Out of the way, that your converse and business
May be more free.
[Exit.
Cas.
I humbly thank you for't. I never knew
A Florentine more kind and honest.
To him, enter Æmilia.
Æmil.
Good morrow, good lieutenant, I am sorry
For your displeasure; but all will, sure, be well.
The General and his wife are talking of it:
And she speaks for you stoutly. The Moor replies,
-- 428 --
That he, you hurt, is of great fame in Cyprus,
And great affinity; and that in wisdom
He might not but refuse you. But he protests, he loves you;
And needs no other suitor, but his likings,
To bring you in again.
Cas.
Yet I beseech you,
If you think fit, or that it may be done,
Give me advantage of some brief discourse
With Desdemona alone.
Æmil.
Pray you, come in;
I will bestow you where you shall have time
To speak your bosom freely.
Cas.
I'm much bound to you.
[Exeunt.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.
Oth.
These letters give, Iago, to the pilot,
And by him do my duties to the Senate;
That done, I will be walking on the Works;
Repair there to me.
Iago.
My good lord, I'll do't.
Oth.
This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't?
Gent.
We'll wait upon your lordship.
[Exeunt.
Scene 2
SCENE changes to an Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Æmilia.
Des.
Be thou assur'd, good Cassio, I will do
All my abilities in thy behalf.
Æmil.
Good Madam, do: I know, it grieves my husband
As if the cause were his.
Des.
Oh, that's an honest fellow; doubt not, Cassio,
But I will have my lord and you again
As friendly as you were.
Cas.
Most bounteous Madam,
Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
-- 429 --
He's never any thing but your true servant.
Des.
I know't, I thank you; you do love my lord,
You've known him long; and, be you well assur'd,
He shall in strangeness stand no farther off
Than in a politick distance.
Cas.
Ay, but, lady,
That policy may either last so long,
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breed it self so out of circumstances,
That I being absent, and my Place supply'd,
My General will forget my love and service.
Des.
Do not doubt that; before Æmilia here,
I give thee warrant of thy Place. Assure thee,
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;
I'll intermingle every thing he do's
With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio;
For thy sollicitor shall rather die,
Than give thy cause away.
Enter Othello, and Iago, at distance.
Æmil.
Madam, here comes my lord.
Cas.
Madam, I'll take my leave.
Des.
Why, stay, and hear me speak.
Cas.
Madam, not now; I'm very ill at ease,
Unfit for mine own purposes.
Des.
Well, do your discretion.
[Exit Cassio.
Iago.
Hah! I like not that.—
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,
That he would steal away so guilty-like,
Seeing you coming.
Oth.
I believe, 'twas he.
Des.
How now, my lord?
I have been talking with a suitor here,
-- 430 --
A man that languishes in your displeasure.
Oth.
Who is't you mean?
Des.
Why, your lieutenant Cassio. Good my lord,
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,
I have no judgment in an honest face.
I pre'thee, call him back.
Oth.
Went he hence now?
Des.
I, sooth, so humbled,
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?
Oth.
The sooner, Sweet, for you.
Des.
Shall't be to night at supper?
Oth.
Not to night.
Des.
To morrow dinner then?
Oth.
I shall not dine at home:
I meet the Captains at the citadel.
Des.
Why then to morrow night, or Tuesday morn,
Or Tuesday noon, or night, or Wednesday morn,
I pr'ythee, 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
Out of their best,) is not almost a fault
T'incur a private check. When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul,
What you would ask me, that I would deny,
Or stand so mutt'ring on? what? Michael Cassio!—
That came a wooing with you, and many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part, to have so much to do
To bring him in? trust me, I could do much—
Oth.
Pr'ythee, no more; let him come when he will,
I will deny thee nothing.
Des.
Why, this is not a boon:
'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
-- 431 --
Or feed on nourishing meats, or keep you warm;
Or sue to you, to do peculiar profit
To your own person. Nay, when I have suit,
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poize and difficulty,
And fearful to be granted.
Oth.
I will deny thee nothing.
Whereon I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to my self.
Des.
Shall I deny you? no: farewel, my lord.
Oth.
Farewel, my Desdemona, I'll come strait.
Des.
Æmilia, come; be, as your fancies teach you:
Whate'er you be, I am obedient.
[Exeunt.
Manent Othello, and Iago.
Oth.
Excellent Wench!—Perdition catch my soul,(32) note
But I do love thee; and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again.
Iago.
My noble lord,—
Oth.
What dost thou say, Iago?
Iago.
Did Michal Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
Know of your love?
-- 432 --
Oth.
He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?
Iago.
But for a satisfaction of my thought,
No farther harm.
Oth.
Why of thy thought, Iago?
Iago.
I did not think, he'd been acquainted with it.
Oth.
Oh, yes, and went between us very oft.
Iago.
Indeed!
Oth.
Indeed! ay, indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that?
Is he not honest?
Iago.
Honest, my lord?
Oth.
Honest? ay, honest.
Iago.
My lord, for ought I know.
Oth.
What doest thou think?
Iago.
Think, my lord!—
Oth.
Think, my lord! why, by heaven, thou echo'st me;
As if there were some monster in thy thought,
Too hideous to be shewn. Thou dost mean something:
I heard thee say but now, thou lik'dst not that,—
When Cassio left my Wife. What did'st not like?
And when I told thee, he was of my counsel,
In my whole course of wooing; thou cry'dst, indeed?
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,
Shew me thy thought.
Iago.
My lord, you know, I love you.
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:
For such things, in a false disloyal knave,
Are tricks of custom; but, in a man that's just,
They're cold dilations working from the heart,(33) note
That passion cannot rule.
-- 433 --
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.
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;
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.
Tho' 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're vile and false;
As where's that Palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions
Keep leets and law-days, and in sessions sit
With meditations lawful?
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,
Though I perchance, am vicious in my Guess,—
(As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To spie into abuse; and oft my jealousie
Shapes faults that are not;) I intreat you then,
From one that so imperfectly conceits,
Your wisdom would not build your self a trouble
Out of my scattering and unsure observance:
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom,
-- 434 --
To let you know my thoughts.
Oth.
What dost thou mean?
Iago.
Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;(34) note
'Twas mine, 'tis his; and has been slave to thousands;
But he, that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of That, which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.
Oth.
I'll know thy thoughts—
Iago.
You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
Oth.
Ha!
Iago.
Oh, beware, my lord, of jealousie;
It is a green-ey'd monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But, oh, what damned minutes tells he o'er,
Who doats, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves!
Oth.
Oh misery!
Iago.
Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough;
But riches endless, is as poor as winter,
To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
Good heaven! the souls of all my tribe defend
-- 435 --
From jealousie!
Oth.
Why? why is this?
Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousie?
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt,
Is once to be resolv'd. Exchange me for a goat,
When I shall turn the business of my soul
To such exufflicate 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;
Where virtue is, these are most 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,
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 jealousie.
Iago.
I'm glad of this; for now I shall have reason
To shew the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit. Therefore, as I'm bound,
Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife, observe her well with Cassio;
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;
In Venice they do let heav'n see the pranks,
They dare not shew their husbands; their best conscience
Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown.
Oth.
Dost thou say so?
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.
Iago.
Go to then;
She, that, so young, could give out such a Seeming
To seal her father's eyes up, close as oak—
He thought, 'twas witchcraft—but I'm much to blame:
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon,
-- 436 --
For too much loving you.
Oth.
I'm bound to you for ever.
Iago.
I see, this hath a little dash'd your spirits.
Oth.
Not a jot, not a jot.
Iago.
Trust me, I fear, it has:
I hope, you will consider, what is spoke
Comes from my love. But, I do see, you're mov'd—
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech
To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,
Than to suspicion.
Oth.
I will not.
Iago.
Should you do so, my lord,(35) note
My speech would fall into such vile Success,
Which my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend.
My lord, I see, you're mov'd—
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 it self—
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:
Foh! one my smell, in such, a will most rank,
Foul disproportions, thoughts unnatural.
But, pardon me, I do not in position
Distinctly speak of her; tho' I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And, haply, so repent.
-- 437 --
Oth.
Farewel, farewel;
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more:
Set on thy wife t'observe. Leave me, Iago.
Iago.
My lord, I take my leave.
[Going.
Oth.
Why did I marry?—
This honest creature, doubtless,
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
Iago.
My lord, I would, I might entreat your Honour
To scan this thing no farther; leave it to time:
Altho' 'tis fit that Cassio have his Place,
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
With any strong, or vehement importunity;
Much will be seen in That. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too busie in my fears,
(As worthy cause I have to fear, I am;)
And hold her free, I do beseech your Honour.
Oth.
Fear not my government.
Iago.
I once more take my leave.
[Exit.
Manet Othello.
Oth.
This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I prove her haggard,
Tho' that her jesses were my dear heart-strings,
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I'm 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—
She's gone, I am abus'd, and my relief
Must be to loath her. Oh the curse of marriage!
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love,
For others use. Yet 'tis the plague of Great ones;
Prerogativ'd are they less than the base;
-- 438 --
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.
Even then, this forked plague is fated to us,
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes!
Enter Desdemona and Æmilia.
If she be false, oh, then heav'n mocks it self:
I'll not believe't.
Des.
How now, my dear Othello?
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?
Are you not well?
Oth.
I have a pain upon my forehead here.
Des.
Why, that's with watching, 'twill away again;
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
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.
Manet Æmilia.
Æmil.
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,
(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; what he'll do with it,
Heav'n knows, not I:
I nothing, but to please his fantasie.
Enter Iago.
Iago.
How now? what do you here alone?
Æmil.
Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.
-- 439 --
Iago.
You have a thing for me?
It is a common thing—
Æmil.
Ha?
Iago.
To have a foolish wife.
Æmil.
Oh, is that all? what will you give me now
For that same handkerchief?
Iago.
What handkerchief?
Æmil.
What handkerchief?—
Why, That the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
That which so often you did bid me steal.
Iago.
Hast stolen it from her?
Æmil.
No; but she let it drop by negligence;
And, to th' advantage, I, being here, took't up:
Look, here 'tis.
Iago.
A good wench, give it me.
Æmil.
What will you do with't, you have been so earnest
To have me filch it?
Iago.
Why, what is that to you?
[Snatching it.
Æmil.
If't be not for some purpose of import,
Give't me again. Poor lady! she'll run mad,
When she shall lack it.
Iago.
Be not you known on't:
I have use for it. Go, leave me—
[Exit Æmil.
I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
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 poisons:
Dang'rous conceits are in their nature poisons,(36) note
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.
-- 440 --
Enter Othello.
Look, where he comes! Not Poppy, nor Mandragora,
Nor all the drowsie Sirups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet Sleep,
Which thou hadst yesterday.
Oth.
Ha! false to me!
Iago.
Why, how now, General? no more of that.
Oth.
Avant! be gone! thou'st set me on the rack:
I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd,
Than but to know a little.
Iago.
How, my lord?
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:
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,
(Pioneers and all,) had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. Oh now, for ever
Farewel the tranquil mind! Farewel content!
Farewel the plumed troops, and the big war,
That make ambition virtue! oh, farewel!
Farewel the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And, oh, you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's Occupation's gone!
Iago.
Is't possible, my lord?
Oth.
Villain, be sure, thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it: give me the ocular proof,
[Catching hold on him.
Or by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.
-- 441 --
Iago.
Is't come to this?
Oth.
Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it,
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,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horrors head, horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heav'n weep, all earth amaz'd;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.
Iago.
Oh grace! oh heav'n defend me!
Are you a man? have you a soul? or sense?
God be w' you; take mine office. O wretched fool,
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!
Oh monstrous world! take note, take note, oh world,
To be direct and honest, is not safe.
I thank you for this profit, and from hence
I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.
Oth.
Nay, stay—thou should'st be honest—
Iago.
I should be wise, for honesty's a fool,
And loses what it works for.
Oth.
By the world,
I think, my wife is 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
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
As my own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
I'll not endure't—Would, I were satisfied!
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, and will.
Iago.
And may; but how? how satisfied, my lord?
Would you be supervisor, grosly gape on?
Behold her tupp'd?
Oth.
Death and damnation! oh!
Iago.
It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring 'em to that prospect: damn them then,
-- 442 --
If ever mortal Eyes do see them bolster,
More than their own. What then? how then?
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
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 might have't.
Oth.
Give me a living reason she's disloyal.
Iago.
I do not like the office;
But sith I'm entred in this cause so far,
Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,
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,
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!”
And then, Sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand;
Cry—“oh sweet creature!” and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluckt up kisses by the roots,
That grew upon my lips; then lay his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh and kiss, and then
Cry, “cursed fate! that gave thee to the Moor.”
Oth.
Oh monstrous! monstrous!
Iago.
Nay, this was but his dream.
Oth.
But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion;
'Tis a shrewd doubt, tho' it be but a dream.
Iago.
And this may help to thicken other proofs,
That do demonstrate thinly.
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,
Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?
Oth.
I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.
-- 443 --
Iago.
I know not that; but such a handkerchief,
(I'm sure, it was your wife's,) did I to day
See Cassio wipe his beard with.
Oth.
If it be that—
Iago.
If it be that, or any, if 'twas hers,
It speaks against her with the other proofs.
Oth.
Oh, 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 heav'n:
'Tis gone;—
Arise, black vengeance, from the hollow hell!
Yield up, oh love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
For 'tis of aspicks tongues.
Iago.
Yet be content.
Oth.
Oh blood, blood, blood—
Iago.
Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may change.
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 Propontick, and the Hellespont:
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—Now, by yond marble heav'n,
In the due rev'rence of a sacred vow
[He kneels.
I here engage my words—
Iago.
Do not rise yet:
[Iago kneels.
Witness, you ever-burning lights above!
You elements, that clip us round about!
Witness, that here Iago doth give up
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
To wrong'd Othello's service. Let him command,(37) note
-- 444 --
Nor, to obey, shall be in me Remorse,
What bloody business ever.
Oth.
I greet thy love,
Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will upon the instant put thee to't:
Within these three days let me hear thee say,
That Cassio's not alive.
Iago.
My friend is dead;(38) note
'Tis done at your request. But, let her live.
Oth.
Damn her, lewd Minx! oh, damn her, damn her!
Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw
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.
Scene 3
SCENE another Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Desdemona, Æmilia, and Clown.
Des.
Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lyes?
-- 445 --
Clown.
I dare not say, he lies any where.
Des.
Why, man?
Clown.
He's a soldier; and for me to say, a soldier lies,
'tis stabbing.
Des.
Go to; where lodges he?
Clown.
To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you
where I lie.
Des.
Can any thing be made of this?
Clown.
I know not where he lodges; and for me to
devise a lodging, and say, he lyes here, or he lyes there,
were to lie in mine own throat.
Des.
Can you enquire him out? and be edified by
report?
Clown.
I will catechize the world for him; that is,
make questions, and bid them answer.(39) note
Des.
Seek him, bid him come hither; tell him, I have
mov'd my lord on his behalf, and hope, all will be well.
Clown.
To do this is within the compass of man's wit,
and therefore I will attempt the doing of it.
[Exit Clown.
Des.
Where should I lose that handkerchief, Æmilia?
Æmil.
I know not, Madam.
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
To put him to ill thinking.
Æmil.
Is he not jealous?
Des.
Who, he? I think, the Sun, where he was born,
Drew all such humours from him.
Æmil.
Look, where he comes.
Des.
I will not leave him now, till Cassio be
Call'd to him. How is it with you, my lord?
-- 446 --
Enter Othello.
Oth.
Well, my good lady. Oh, hardness to dissemble!
How do you, Desdemona?
Des.
Well, my Lord.
Oth.
Give me your hand; this hand is moist, my Lady.
Des.
It yet hath felt no age, nor known no sorrow.
Oth.
This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart:
Hot, hot, and moist—this hand of yours requires
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,
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;(40) note
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
Des.
I cannot speak of this; come, now your promise.
Oth.
What promise, chuck?
-- 447 --
Des.
I've sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
Oth.
I have a salt and sorry Rheum offends me;
Lend me thy handkerchief.
Des.
Here, my Lord.
Oth.
That, which I gave you.
Des.
I have it not about me.
Oth.
Not?—
Des.
No, indeed, my Lord.
Oth.
That's a fault. That handkerchief(41) note
Did an Ægyptian to my mother give;
She was a Charmer, and could almost read
The thouhgts of people. She told her, while she kept it,
'Twould make her amiable, subdue my father
Intirely 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 hunt
After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me;
-- 448 --
And bid me, when my fate would have me wiv'd,
To give it her. I did so; and take heed on't;—
Make it a darling, like your precious eye;
To lose't, or giv't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.
Des.
Is't possible?
Oth.
'Tis true; there's magick in the web of it;
A Sybill, that had numbred in the world
The Sun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetick fury sow'd the Work:
The worms were hallowed, that did breed the silk;
And it was dy'd in Mummey, which the skillful
Conserv'd of Maidens hearts.
Des.
Indeed! is't true!
Oth.
Most veritable, therefore look to't well.
Des.
Then would to heav'n, that I had never seen't!
Oth.
Ha? wherefore?
Des.
Why do you speak so startingly, and rash?
Oth.
Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out o'th' way?
Des.
Bless us!—
Oth.
Say you?
Des.
It is not lost; but what, and if it were?
Oth.
Ha!
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:
-- 449 --
This is a trick to put me from my suit,
Pray you, let Cassio be receiv'd again.
Oth.
Fetch me the handkerchief—my mind misgives—
Des.
Come, you'll ne'er meet a more sufficient man.
Oth.
The handkerchief—
Des.
A man, that, all his time,
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love;
Shar'd dangers with you.
Oth.
The handkerchief—
Des.
Insooth, you are to blame.
Oth.
Away!—
[Exit Othello.
Manent Desdemona and Æmilia.
Æmil.
Is not this man jealous?
Des.
I ne'er saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
I'm most unhappy in the loss of it.
Æmil.
'Tis not a year, or two, shews us a man:
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
They eat us hungerly, and, when they're full,
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.
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 gain
Exist, and be a member of his love;
Whom I, with all the office of my heart,
Intirely honour. I would not be delay'd;
If my offence be of such mortal kind,
That not my service past, nor present sorrows,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,
Can ransom me into his love again;
But to know so, must be my benefit.
So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content,
-- 450 --
And shut myself up in some other course,(42) note
To fortune's alms.
Des.
Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio,
My advocation is not now in tune;
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;
And stood within the blank of his displeasure,
For my free speech! You must a-while be patient;
What I can do, I will: and more I will
Than for myself I dare. Let That suffice you.
Iago.
Is my lord angry?
Æmil.
He went hence but now;
And, certainly, in strange unquietness.
Iago.
Can he be angry? I have seen the Cannon,
When it hath blown his ranks into the air,
And, like the Devil, from his very arm
Puft his own brother; and can he be angry?
Something of moment then; I will go meet him;
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
[Exit.
Manent Desdemona, Æmilia, and Cassio.
Des.
I pr'ythee, do so.—Something, sure, of State,
Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practice,
-- 451 --
Made here demonstrable in Cyprus to him,
Hath puddled his clear spirit; and, in such cases,
Mens natures wrangle with inferior things,
Tho' great ones are their object. 'Tis ev'n so.
For let our finger ake, and it endues
Our other healthful members with a sense
Of pain. Nay, we must think, Men are not Gods;
Nor of them look for such observance always,
As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Æmilia,
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 indited falsely.
Æmil.
Pray heav'n, it be
State-matter, as you think; and no conception,
Nor jealous toy concerning you.
Des.
Alas-the-day, I never gave him cause.
Æmil.
But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
They are not ever jealous for a cause;
But jealous, for they're jealous. It's a monster
Begot upon it self, born on it self.
Des.
Heav'n keep that monster from Othello's mind!
Æmil.
Lady, amen.
Des.
I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout;
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,
And seek t' effect it to my uttermost.
Cas.
I humbly thank your Ladyship.
[Ex. Desdem. and Æmil. at one door; Cassio, at the other.
Scene 4
SCENE changes to the Street before the Palace.
Re-enter Cassio, meeting Bianca.
Bian.
'Save you, friend Cassio.
Cas.
What makes you from home?
How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?
Indeed, sweet Love, I was coming to your house.
Bian.
And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
What? keep a week away? seven days and nights?
-- 452 --
Eightscore eight hours? and lovers' absent hours,
More tedious that the dial, eightscore times?
Oh weary reck'ning!
Cas.
Pardon me, Bianca:
I have this while with leaden thoughts been prest;
But I shall in a more convenient time
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,
[Giving her Desdemona's Handkerchief.
Take me this work out.
Bian.
Oh Cassio, whence came this?
This is some token from a newer friend:
Of thy felt absence now I feel a cause:
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,
That this is from some mistress, some remembrance?
No, in good troth, Bianca.
Bian.
Why, whose is it?
Cas.
I know not neither; I found it in my chamber;
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?
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?
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?
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.
[Exe.
-- 453 --
ACT IV.
Scene 1
SCENE, a Court before the Palace.
Enter Othello, and Iago.
Iago.
Will you think so?
Oth.
Think so, Iago?
Iago.
What, to kiss in private?
Oth.
An unauthoriz'd kiss?
Iago.
Or to be naked with her friend in bed,
An hour or more, not meaning any harm?
Oth.
Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm?(43) note
It is hypocrisy against the Devil:
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
The Devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heav'n.
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 it on any man.
-- 454 --
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 saidst,—oh, it comes o'er my memory,
As doth the Raven o'er th' infected house,
Boading to ill,—he had my handkerchief.
Iago.
Ay, what of that?
Oth.
That's not so good now.
Iago.
What if I said, I'ad seen him do you wrong?
Or heard him say, (as knaves be such abroad,(44) note
Who having by their own importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
Convinc'd or suppled them, they cannot chuse
But they 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—
-- 455 --
Oth.
With her?
Iago.
With her; on her—what you will—
Oth.
Lye with her! lye on her! lye with her! that's
fulsom: handkerchief—confessions—handkerchief—
handkerchief—to confess, and be hang'd for his labour—
First, to be hang'd, and then—to confess!—I tremble at
it—Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing
without some instruction. It is not words, that shake
me thus—pish—noses, ears, and lips—is't possible!—
confess!—handkerchief!—oh devil—
[Falls in a trance.
Iago.
Work on,
My medicine, work! thus credulous fools are caught;
And many worthy and chast Dames even thus,
All guiltless, meet reproach. What hoa! my lord!
My lord, I say, Othello,—
Enter Cassio.
How now, Cassio?
Cas.
What's the matter?
-- 456 --
Iago.
My lord is fell into an Epilepsie,
This is the second Fit; he had one yesterday.
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
Breaks out to savage madness: look, he stirs,
Do you withdraw your self a little while,
He will recover straight; when he is gone,
I would on great occasion speak with you.
[Exit Cassio.
How is it, General? have you not hurt your head?
Oth.
Dost thou mock me?
Iago.
I mock you not, by heav'n;
Would you would bear your fortunes like a man.
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?
Iago.
Good sir, be a man:
Think, every bearded fellow, that's but yoak'd,
May draw with you. Millions are now alive,
That nightly lye in those unproper beds,
Which they dare swear peculiar. Your case is better.
Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
To lip a Wanton in a secure couch;
And to suppose her chast. No, let me know,
And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.
Oth.
Oh, thou art wise; 'tis certain.
Iago.
Stand you a while apart,
Confine your self but in a patient list.
Whilst you were here, o'er-whelmed with your grief,
(A passion most unsuiting such a man,)
Cassio came hither. I shifted him away,
And laid good 'scuses on your ecstasie;
Bad him anon return, and here speak with me;
The which he promis'd. Do but encave your self,
And mark the fieers, the gibes, and notable scorns,
That dwell in every region of his face.
For I will make him tell the tale anew;
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when,
-- 457 --
He hath, and is again to cope your wife.
I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;
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;
But, dost thou hear, most bloody.
Iago.
That's not amiss;
But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?
[Othello withdraws.
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
A huswife, that, by selling her desires,
Buys her self bread and cloth. It is a creature,
That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's plague
To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one;
He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain
From the excess of laughter.—Here he comes—
Enter Cassio.
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;
And his unbookish jealousie 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,
Whose want even kills me.
Iago.
Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't:
Now, if this sute lay in Bianca's power,
[speaking lower.
How quickly should you speed?
Cas.
Alas, poor caitiff!
Oth.
Look, how he laughs already.
[aside.
Iago.
I never knew a woman love man so.
Cas.
Alas, poor rogue, I think, indeed, she loves me.
Oth.
Now he denies it faintly, and laughs out.
[aside.
Iago.
Do you hear, Cassio?
Oth.
Now he importunes him
To tell it o'er: go to, well said, well said.
[aside.
Iago.
She gives it out, that you shall marry her.
Do you intend it?
-- 458 --
Cas.
Ha, ha, ha.
Oth.
Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?
[aside.
Cas.
I marry her!—What? a customer? pr'ythee, bear
some charity to my wit, do not think it so unwholsome.
Ha, ha, ha.
Oth.
So, so: they laugh, that win.
[aside.
Iago.
Why, the Cry goes, that you shall marry her.
Cas.
Pr'ythee, say true.
Iago.
I am a very villain else.
Oth.
Have you scoar'd me? well.
[aside.
Cas.
This is the monkey's own giving out: she is perswaded,
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.
[aside.
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 comes the bauble, and falls
me thus about my neck—
Oth.
Crying, “oh dear Cassio, as it were:” his gesture
imports it.
[aside.
Cas.
So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me, so shakes,
and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha—
Oth
Now he tells, how she pluckt him to my chamber:
oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall
throw it to.
[aside.
Cas.
Well, I must leave her company.
Iago.
Before me! look, where she comes.
Enter Bianca.
Cas.
'Tis such another fitchew! marry, a perfum'd one:—
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 peice of work, that you should find it
in your chamber, and know not who left it there.
This is some minxe'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.
-- 459 --
Cas.
How now, my sweet Bianca? how now? how
now?
Oth.
By heav'n, that should be my handkerchief.
[aside.
Bian.
If you'll come to supper to night, you may; if
you will not, come when you are next prepar'd
for.
[Exit.
Iago.
After her, after her.—
Cas.
I must, she'll rail in the streets else.
Iago.
Will you Sup there?
Cas.
Yes, I intend so.
Iago.
Well, I may chance to see you; for I would very
fain speak with you.
Cas.
Pr'ythee, come, will you?
Iago.
Go to, say no more.
[Exit Cassio.
Manent Othello, and Iago.
Oth.
How shall I murther him, Iago?
Iago.
Did you perceive, how he laugh'd at his vice?
Oth.
Oh, Iago!—
Iago.
And did you see the handkerchief?
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.
Oth.
Ay, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to
night; for she shall not live. No, my heart is turn'd to
stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world
hath not a sweeter creature—She might lye 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.—Oh,
she will sing the savageness out of a bear: of so high and
plenteous wit and invention!
Iago.
She's the worse for all this.
Oth.
Oh, a thousand, a thousand times:
-- 460 --
And then of so gentle condition!—
Iago.
Ay, too gentle.
Oth.
Nay, that's certain.
But yet the pity of it, Iago—Oh, 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
no body.
Oth.
I will chop her into messes: cuckold me!
Iago.
Oh, 'tis foul in her.
Oth.
With mine officer!
Iago.
That's fouler.
Oth.
Get me some poison, Iago, this night; I'll not expostulate
with her, lest her body and her beauty unprovide
my mind again; this night, Iago.
Iago.
Do it not with poyson, 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.
[A Trumpet within.
Oth.
Excellent good:—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, Desdemona, and Attendants, from the Palace.
Lod.
Save you, worthy General.
Oth.
With all my heart, Sir.
Lod.
The Duke and the Senators of Venice greet you.
[Gives him a Letter.
Oth.
I kiss the Instrument 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.
Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.
Oth.
Are you sure of that?
[aside.
-- 461 --
Des.
My lord,—
Oth.
This fail you not to do, as you will—
[Reads.
Lod.
He did not call; he's busie in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?
Des.
A most unhappy one; I would do much
T' atone 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,(45) note
Deputing Cassio in his Government.
Des.
Trust me, I am glad on't.
Oth.
Indeed!
[aside.
Des.
My lord!
Oth.
I am glad to see you mad.
Des.
Why, sweet Othello?
Oth.
Devil!—
[Striking her.
Des.
I have not deserv'd 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.
Oth.
Oh devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop, she falls, would prove a crocodile:
-- 462 --
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, avant!—
[Exit Desd.
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!
[Exit.
Manent Lodovico, and Iago.
Lod.
Is this the noble Moor, whom our full Senate
Call all-in-all sufficient? this the Nature,
Which passion could not shake? whose solid virtue(46) note
The shot of accident, nor dart of change,
-- 463 --
Could neither raze, nor pierce?
Iago.
He is much chang'd.
Lod.
Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?
Iago.
He's what he is; I may not breathe my censure.
What he might be, if what he might he is not,
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.
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. You shall observe him,
-- 464 --
And his own courses will denote him so,
That I may save my speech. Do but go after,
And mark how he continues.
Lod.
I'm sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him.
[Exeunt.
Scene 2
SCENE changes to an Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Othello and Æmilia.
Oth.
You have seen nothing then?
Æmil.
Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.
Oth.
Yes, you have seen Cassio and her together.
Æmil.
But then I saw no harm; and then I heard
Each syllable, that breath made up between them.
Oth.
What? did they never whisper?
Æmil.
Never, my lord.
Oth.
Nor send you out o'th' way?
Æmil.
Never.
Oth.
To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
-- 465 --
Æmil.
Never, my lord.
Oth.
That's strange!
Æm.
I durst, my Lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,
Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch have put this in your head,
Let heav'n requite it with the serpent's curse!
For if she be not honest, chast and true,
There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
Is foul as slander.
Oth.
Bid her come hither, go.
[Exit Æmilia.
She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd,
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've seen her do't.
Enter Desdemona and Æmilia.
Des.
My lord, what is your will?
Oth.
Pray you, chuck, come hither.
Des.
What is your pleasure?
Oth.
Let me see your eyes; look in my face.
Des.
What horrible fancy's this?
Oth.
Some of your function, mistress;
Leave procreants alone, and shut the door,
Cough, or cry, hem, if any body come.
Your mystery, your mystery;—nay, dispatch.
[Exit Æmilia.
Des.
Upon my knee, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words,
But not your words.
Oth.
Why? what art thou?
Des.
Your wife, my lord; your true and loyal wife.
Oth.
Come, swear it; damn thy self; lest, being like one
Of heav'n, the devils themselves should fear to seize thee.
Therefore be double-damn'd; swear, thou art honest.
Des.
Heav'n doth truly know it.
Oth.
Heav'n truly knows,
That thou art false as hell.
Des.
To whom, my lord?
With whom? how am I false?
-- 466 --
Oth.
Ah, Desdemona! away, away, away—
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,
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.
Oth.
Had it pleas'd heav'n
To try me with affliction, had he rain'd
All kind of sores and shames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
Giv'n to captivity me and my hopes;
I should have found in some place of my soul
A drop of patience. But, alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the hand of scorn
To point his slow and moving finger at—
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well.
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;
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads
To knot and gender in: Turn thy complexion there,(47) note
Patience, thou young and rose-lip'd cherubin;
Ay, there look grim as hell.
Des.
I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth.
Oh, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken ev'n with blowing. Oh thou weed!
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,
That the sense akes at thee—
-- 467 --
Would, thou had'st 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, what committed?
Committed?—oh, thou publick commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cynders burn up modesty,
Did but I speak thy deeds. What, what committed?
Heav'n 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't. What committed?—Impudent Strumpet!
Des.
By heav'n, you do me wrong.
Oth.
Are not you a strumpet?
Des.
No, as I am a christian.
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?
Des.
No, as I shall be saved.
Oth.
Is't possible?
Des.
Oh, heav'n forgive us!
Oth.
I cry you mercy, then.
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello—
Enter Æmilia.
You, mistress,
That have the office opposite to St. Peter,
And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you!
We have done our course, there's mony for your pains;
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
[Exit.
Æmil.
Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
Des.
Faith, half asleep.
Æmil.
Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?
Des.
With whom?
Æmil.
Why, with my lord, madam?
Des.
Who is thy lord?
-- 468 --
Æmil.
He that is yours, sweet lady.
Des.
I have none; do not talk to me, Æmilia.
I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,
But what should go by water. Pray, to night
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, remember;
And call thy husband hither.
Æmil.
Here's 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
The small'st opinion of my least misuse?
Enter Iago, and Æmilia.
Iago.
What is your pleasure, Madam? how is't with you?
Des.
I cannot tell; those, that do teach your babes,
Do it with gentle means, and easie tasks;
He might have chid me so: for, in good faith,
I am a child to chiding.
Iago.
What's the matter, lady?
Æmil.
Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Thrown such despight and heavy terms upon her,
That true hearts cannot bear it.
Des.
Am I that name, Iago?
Iago.
What name, fair lady?
Des.
Such, as, she said, my lord did say I was.
Æmil.
He call'd her whore; a beggar, in his drink,
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.
Iago.
Why did he so?
Des.
I do not know; I'm sure, I am none such.
Iago.
Do not weep, do not weep; alas, the day!
Æmil.
Hath she forsook so many noble matches?
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't! how comes this trick upon him?
Des.
Nay, heav'n doth know.
Æmil.
I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Some busie and insinuating rogue,
-- 469 --
Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
Has 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, heav'n pardon him!
Æmil.
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 likely-hood?
The Moor's abus'd by some most villanous knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
Oh heav'n, that such companions thou'dst unfold,
And put in every honest hand a whip,
To lash the rascal naked through the world,
Ev'n from the east to th' west!
Iago.
Speak within door.
Æmil.
Oh, fie upon them! Some such 'squire he was,
That turn'd your wit the seamy side without;
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
Iago.
You are a fool; go to.
Des.
Alas, Iago,
What shall I do to win my lord again?
Good friend, go to him; by this light of heav'n,
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel;
[Kneeling.
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Or in discourse, or thought, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them on any other form;
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
And ever will, though he do shake me off
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 can't say, whore;
It do's abhor me, now I speak the word;
To do the act, that might th' addition earn,
Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.
Iago.
I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour;
The business of the State do's him offence,
And he does chide with you.
Des.
If 'twere no other,—
Iago.
It is but so, I warrant.
[Trumpets.
-- 470 --
Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
The messenger of Venice stays the meat;
Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.
[Exeunt Desdemona and Æmilia.
Enter Rodorigo, to Iago.
How now, Rodorigo?
Rod.
I do not find, that thou deal'st justly with me.
Iago.
What in the contrary?
Rod.
Every day thou dost'st me with some device,
Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keep'st from
me all conveniency, than suppliest me with the least advantage
of hope. I will, indeed, no longer endure it.
Nor am I yet perswaded to put up in peace what already
I have foolishly suffer'd.
Iago.
Will you hear me, Rodorigo?
Rod.
Faith, I have heard too much; and your words
and performances are no kin together.
Iago.
You charge me most unjustly.
Rod.
With naught but truth: I have wasted my self
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 hath receiv'd them, and
return'd me expectations and comforts of sudden respect
and acquittance;(48) note
but I find none.
Iago.
Well, go to; very well.
Rod.
Very well, go to; I cannot go to, man, nor
'tis not very well; nay, I think, it is scurvy, and begin to
find my self fob'd in it.
Iago.
Very well.
-- 471 --
Rod.
I tell you, 'tis not very well. I will make my
self 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.
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 I build on thee a better opinion
than ever before. Give me thy hand, Rodorigo, thou
hast taken against me a most just exception; but, I protest,
I have dealt most directly in thy affair.
Rod.
It hath not appear'd.
Iago.
I grant, indeed, it hath not appear'd; and your
suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But, Rodorigo,
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 shew 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.
Iago.
Oh, no; he goes into Mauritania, and taketh
away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be
lingred here by some accident: Wherein none can be so
determinate, as the removing of Cassio.
Rod.
How do you mean removing him?
Iago.
Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's
Place; knocking out his brains.
Rod.
And that you would have me to do?
Iago.
Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a
right. He sups to night with a harlot; 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
-- 472 --
him at your pleasure. I will be near to second your attempt,
and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not
amaz'd at it, but go along with me; I will shew 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.
Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Æmilia, and Attendants.
Lod.
I do beseech you, Sir, trouble yourself no further.
Oth.
Oh, 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? oh Desdemona!—
Des.
My lord.
Oth.
Get you to bed on th' instant, I will be return'd
forthwith; dismiss your attendant there; look, it be
done.
[Exit.
Des.
I will, my Lord.
Æmil.
How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.
Des.
He says, he will return incontinent;
And hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bid me to dismiss you.
Æmil.
Dismiss me?
Des.
It was his bidding; therefore, good Æmilia,
Give me my nightly Wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.
Æmil.
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.
Æmil.
I have laid those sheets, you bad me, on the bed.
Des.
All's one: good father! how foolish are our minds?
If I do die before thee, pr'ythee, shroud me
In one of these same sheets.
-- 473 --
Æmil.
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 her. She had a song of willow,
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she dy'd singing it. That song to night
Will not go from my mind; I've much ado,
But to go hang my head all at one side,
And sing it like poor Barbara. Pr'ythee, dispatch.
Æmil.
Shall I go fetch your night-gown?
Des.
No, unpin me here;
This Lodovico is a proper man.
Æmil.
A very handsom man.
Des.
He speaks well.
Æmil.
I know a lady in Venice would have walk'd barefoot
to Palestine for a touch of his neither lip.
Des.
The poor soul sat singing by a sycamore-tree,
Sing all a green willow:
[singing.
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, &c.
Her salt tears fell from her, and softned the stones;
Sing willow, &c.
Willow, willow, &c. (Pr'ythee, hye thee, he'll come anon)
Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let no body blame him, his scorn I approve.
Nay, that's not next—Hark, who is't that knocks?
Æmil.
It's the wind.
Des.
I call'd my love false love; but what said he then?
Sing willow, &c.
If I court more women, you'll couch with more men.
So, get thee gone, good night; mine eyes do itch,
Doth that boad weeping?
Æmil.
'Tis neither here nor there.
Des.
I have heard it said so; oh these men, these men!
Dost thou in conscience think, tell me, Æmilia,
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind?
-- 474 --
Æmil.
There be some such, no question.
Des.
Woud'st thou do such a deed for all the world?
Æmil.
Why, would not you?
Des.
No, by this heav'nly light.
Æmil.
Nor I neither, by this heav'nly light:
I might do't as well i'th' dark.
Des.
Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world?
Æmil.
The world's a huge thing,
It is a great price, for a small vice.
Des.
In troth, I think, thou would'st not.
Æmil.
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 for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats,
nor caps; nor any petty exhibition. But for all
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.
Æmil.
Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th' world;
and having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in
your own world, and you might quickly make it
right(49) note.
Des.
I do not think, there is any such woman.
Æmil.
Yes, a dozen; and as many to th' vantage,
As would store the world they plaid for.
But, I do think, it is their husbands faults,
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 on us; or say, they strike us,
Or scant our former Having in despight;
Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
-- 475 --
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know,
Their wives have sense like them; they see and smell,
And have their palats both for sweet and sower,
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: 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,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us to.
Des.
Good night, good night; heaven me such uses send,
Not to pick bad from bad; but by bad, mend!
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
Scene 1
SCENE, a Street before the Palace.
Enter Iago and Rodorigo.
Iago.
Here, stand behind this bulk. Straight will he come:
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home;
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 neat at hand, I may miscarry in't.
Iago.
Here, at thy hand; be bold and take thy sword.
Rod.
I have no great devotion to the deed,
Yet he hath giv'n me satisfying reasons;
-- 476 --
'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword; he dies.
[Stands apart.
Iago.
I've rubb'd this young Knot almost to the sense,(50) note
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain. Live Rodorigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold and jewels, that I bob'd from him,
As gifts to Desdemona.
It must not be.—If Cassio do remain,
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 peril;
No, he must die. Be it so; I hear him coming.
Enter Cassio.
Rod.
I know his gate; 'tis he: villain, thou dyest.
[He runs at Cassio, and wounds him.
Cas.
That Thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou know'st:
I will make proof of thine.
[Fight. Iago cuts Cassio behind in the Leg, and exit. Then Rod. and Cassio fall.
Rod.
Oh, I am slain.
-- 477 --
Cas.
I'm maim'd for ever; help, hoa! murther, murther!(51) note
Enter Othello above, at a Window.
Oth.
The voice of Cassio,—Iago keeps his word.
Rod.
Oh, villain that I am!
Oth.
It is even so.
Cas.
Oh, help, ho! light! a surgeon!—
Oth.
'Tis he! oh 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 fate hyes apace.—Strumpet, I come:
From off my heart, those charms, thine eyes, are blotted:
Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted.
[Exit Othello.
Enter Lodovico and Gratiano, at a distance.
Cas.
What, ho! no watch? no passage? murther, murther!
Gra.
'Tis some mischance; the voice is very direful.
Cas.
Oh help!
Lod.
Hark!
Rod.
Oh wretched villain!
-- 478 --
Lod.
Two or three groans. It is a heavy night;
These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe
To come into the cry, without more help.
Rod.
No body come? then shall I bleed to death.
Enter Iago, in his shirt, with a Light and Sword.
Lod.
Hark—
Gra.
Here's one comes in his shirt with light and weapons.
Iago.
Who's there? whose noise is this, that cries out murther?
Lod.
We do not know.
Iago.
Do not you hear a cry?
Cas.
Here, here: for heav'n sake, help me.
Iago.
What's the matter?
Gra.
This is Othello's Antient, as I take it.
Lod.
The same, indeed, a very valiant fellow.
Iago.
What are you here, that cry so grievously?
Cas.
Iago? oh I'm spoil'd, undone by villains!
Give me some help.
Iago.
Oh me, lieutenant! what villians have done this?
Cas.
I think, that one of them is hereabout;
And cannot make away.
Iago.
Oh treacherous villains!
What are you there? come in and give some help.
[To Lod. and Gra.
Rod.
Oh, help me there.
Cas.
That's one of them.
Iago.
Oh murd'rous slave! oh villain!
[Iago stabs him.
Rod.
Oh damn'd Iago! oh inhuman dog!
Iago.
Kill men i'th' dark? where be these bloody thieves!
How silent is this town? ho, murther! murther!
What may you be? are you of good or evil?
Lod.
As you shall prove us, praise us.
Iago.
Signior Lodovico?—
Lod.
He, Sir.
Iago.
I cry you mercy! here's Cassio, hurt by villains.
Gra.
Cassio?
-- 479 --
Iago.
How is't, brother?
Cas.
My leg is cut in two.
Iago.
Marry, heav'n forbid!
Light, gentlemen, I'll bind it with my shirt.
Enter Bianca.
Bian.
What is the matter, hoa, who is't that cry'd?
Iago.
Who is't that cry'd?
Bian.
Oh my dear Cassio,
My sweet Cassio, oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio.
Iago.
Oh notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be, that have thus mangled you?
Cas.
No.
Gra.
I'm sorry to find you thus:
I have been to seek you.
Iago.
Lend me a garter. So—Oh for a chair,
To bear him easily hence.
Bian.
Alas, he faints. Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
Iago.
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash
To be a party in this Injury.
Patience a while, good Cassio; come, come:
Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no?
Alas, my friend, and my dear countryman
Rodorigo? no: Yes, sure: yea, 'tis Rodorigo.
Gra.
What, of Venice?
Iago.
Even he, Sir: did you know him?
Gra.
Know him? ah!
Iago.
Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon:
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
That so neglected you.
Gra.
I am glad to see you.
Iago.
How do you, Cassio? oh a chair, a chair.
Gra.
Rodorigo?
Iago.
He, he, 'tis he: oh that's well said, the chair.
Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
I'll fetch the General's surgeon. For you, mistress,
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.
-- 480 --
Iago.
What, look you pale?—oh, bear him out o'th' air.
Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?
[To Bianca.
Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her;
Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness
Will speak, though tongues were out of use.
Enter Æmilia.
Æmil.
Alas, what is the matter?
What is the matter, husband?
Iago.
Cassio hath there been set on in the dark
By Rodorigo, and fellows that are 'scap'd:
He's almost slain, and Rodorigo dead.
Æmil.
Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!
Iago.
This is the fruit of whoring—Pray, Æmilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supt to night.
What, do you shake at that?
Bian.
He supt at my house, but I therefore shake not.
Iago.
Oh, did he so? I charge you go with me.
Æmil.
Oh fie upon thee, strumpet!
Bian.
I am no strumpet, but of life as honest
As you that thus abuse me.
Æmil.
As I? fie upon thee!
Iago.
Kind gentlemen, let's see poor Cassio drest.
Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.
Æmilia, run to the citadel,
And tell my lord and lady what hath hap'd:
Will you go on afore?—This is the night,
That either makes me, or foredoes me quite.
[Exeunt, Iago following.
Scene 2
SCENE, A Bed-chamber: Desdemona is discovered asleep in her bed.
Enter Othello, with a Light and a Sword.
Oth.
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul;—
Let me not name it to you, you chaste Stars!
It is the cause.—Yet I'll not shed her Blood,
-- 481 --
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster:
[Lays down the sword.
Yet she must die; else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and, then, put out the light;(52) note
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent: but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light re-lumine.—
[Sets down the taper.
When I have pluck'd thy rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again;
It needs must wither.—I'll smell thee on the tree;
[Kissing her.
Oh balmy breath, that dost almost perswade
Justice to break her sword!—One more; one more;
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after.—one more, that's the last;
So sweet, was ne'er so fatal! I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this Sorrow's heav'nly;
It strikes, where it doth love.—she wakes—
-- 482 --
Des.
Who's there, Othello?
Oth.
Ay, Desdemona.
Des.
Will you come to bed, my Lord?
Oth.
Have you pray'd to night, Desdemona?
Des.
Ay, my Lord.
Oth.
If you bethink yourself of any crime
Unreconcil'd as yet to heav'n, and grace,
Solicit for it straight.
Des.
Alack, my Lord,
What may you mean by That?
Oth.
Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit,
No, (heav'ns forefend!) I would not kill thy soul.
Des.
Talk you of killing?
Oth.
Ay, I do.
Des.
Then heav'n have mercy on me!
Oth.
Amen, with all my heart.
Des.
If you say so, I hope, you will not kill me.
Oth.
Hum.
Des.
And yet I fear you: for you're fatal then,
When your eyes rowl so. Why I should fear, I know not,
Since guilt I know not: yet, I feel, I fear.
Oth.
Think on thy sins.
Des.
They're Loves I bear to you.
Oth.
Ay, and for That thou dy'st.
Des.
That death's unnatural, that kills for loving.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether-lip?
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame;
These are portents: but yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me.
Oth.
Peace, and be still.
Des.
I will so: what's the matter?
Oth.
That handkerchief
Which I so lov'd, and gave thee, thou gav'st Cassio.
Des.
No, by my life and soul: send for the man,
And ask him.
Oth.
Sweet Soul, take heed, take heed of perjury;
Thou art on thy death-bed.
Des.
Ay, but not yet to die.
-- 483 --
Oth.
Presently;
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin:
For to deny each article with oath,
Cannot remove, nor choak, the strong conception
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
Des.
Oh, heav'n have mercy on me!
Oth.
I say, amen.
Des.
And have you mercy too!—I never did
Offend you in my life; never lov'd Cassio,
But with such general warrantry of heav'n,
As I might love. I never gave him token.
Oth.
By heav'n, I saw my handkerchief in's hand.
Oh perjur'd woman! thou dost stone my heart;
And make'st me call, what I intend to do,
A murther, which I thought a sacrifice.
I saw the handkerchief.
Des.
He found it then;
I never gave it him; send for him hither,
Let him confess a truth.
Oth.
He hath confest.
Des.
What, my lord?
Oth.
That he hath—us'd thee—
Des.
How? unlawfully?
Oth.
Ay.
Des.
He will not say so.
Oth.
No, his mouth is stopp'd;
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.
Des.
My fear interprets then—What, is he dead?
Oth.
Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.
Des.
Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone.
Oth.
Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face?
Des.
Oh banish me, my Lord, but kill me not.
Oth.
Down, strumpet.
Des.
Kill me to morrow, let me live to night.
Oth.
Nay, if you strive—
Des.
But half an hour.
Oth.
Being done, there is no pause.
Des.
But while I say one prayer.
Oth.
It is too late.
[He smothers her.
-- 484 --
Æmilia, at the door.
Æmil.
My lord, my lord! what hoa! my lord, my lord!
Oth.
What noise is this? not dead? not yet quite dead?
I, that am cruel, am yet merciful;
I would not have thee linger in thy pain.
So, so.
Æmil. within.]
What hoa! my Lord, my Lord!
Oth.
Who's there?
Æmil.
Oh, my good Lord, I would speak a word with you.
Oth.
Yes, 'tis Æmilia—by and by—she's dead.
'Tis like, she comes to speak of Cassio's death;
The noise was high.—Ha, no more moving?
Still as the Grave. Shall she come in? were't good?
I think, she stirs again—No—what's the best?
If she come in, she'll, sure, speak to my wife;
My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife.
Oh insupportable! oh heavy hour!
Methinks, it should be now a huge eclipse(53) note
Of Sun, and Moon, and that th' affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration—
Æmil.
I beseech you,
That I may speak with you. Oh, good my lord!—
Oth.
I had forgot thee; oh, come in, Æmilia.
-- 485 --
Soft, by and by, let me the curtains draw.
Where art thou? what's the matter with thee now?
[Unlocks the door.
Enter Æmilia.
Æmil.
Oh, my good lord, yonder's foul murther done.
Oth.
What? now?
Æmil.
But now, my Lord.
Oth.
It is the very error of the Moon;
She comes more near the Earth than she was wont,
And makes men mad.
Æmil.
Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd
A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo.
Oth.
Rodorigo kill'd? and Cassio kill'd?
Æmil.
No, Cassio is not kill'd.
Oth.
Not Cassio kill'd? then murther's out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
Des.
Oh, falsely, falsely murder'd!—
Æmil.
Alas! what cry is that?
Oth.
That? what?
Æmil.
Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice.
Help! help, hoa! help! oh lady, speak again;
Sweet Desdemona! oh sweet mistress, speak.
Des.
A guiltless death I die.
Æmil.
Oh, who hath done this deed?
Des.
No body, I my self, farewel;
Commend me to my kind Lord; oh, farewel.
[Dies.
Oth.
Why, how should she be murder'd?
-- 486 --
Æmil.
Alas! who knows?
Oth.
You heard her say, her self, it was not I.
Æmil.
She said so, I must needs report the truth.
Oth.
She's like a liar gone to burning hell;
'Twas I, that kill'd her.
Æmil.
Oh, the more Angel she, and you the blacker Devil.
Oth.
She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.
Æmil.
Thou dost bely her, and thou art a Devil.
Oth.
She was false as water.
Æmil.
Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false. Oh, she was heav'nly true.
Oth.
Cassio did tup her; ask thy husband else.
Oh, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
Æmil.
My husband!
Oth.
Thy husband.
Æmil.
That she was false to wedlock?
Oth.
Ay, with Cassio: had she been true,
If heav'n would make me such another World,
Of one entire and perfect Chrysolite,
I'd not have sold her for it.
Æmil.
My husband!
Oth.
Ay, 'twas he that told me first;
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.
Æmil.
My husband!
Oth.
What needs this iteration, woman?
I say, thy husband.
Æmil.
Oh mistress! villany has made mocks with love.
My husband say, she was false!
Oth.
He, woman;
I say, thy husband; do'st understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.
Æmil.
If he says so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to th' heart.
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
Oth.
Hah!—
Æmil.
Do thy worst:
-- 487 --
This deed of thine is no more worthy heav'n,
Than thou wast worthy her.
Oth.
Peace, you were best.
Æmil.
Thou hast not half that power to do me harm,
As I have to be hurt: oh gull! oh dolt!
As ignorant as dirt! thou'st done a deed—
I care not for thy sword, I'll make thee known,
Though I lost twenty lives—Help! help, hoa! help!
The Moor hath kill'd my mistress. Murther, murther!
Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others.
Mon.
What is the matter? how now, General?
Æmil.
Oh, are you come, Iago? you have done well,
That men must lay their murthers on your neck.
Gra.
What is the matter?
Æmil.
Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man;
He says, thou toldst him that his wife was false:
I know, thou didst not; thou'rt not such a villain.
Speak, for my heart is full.
Iago.
I told him what I thought; and told no more,
Than what he found himself was apt and true.
Æmil.
But did you ever tell him, she was false?
Iago.
I did.
Æmil.
You told a lie; an odious, damned, lie:
Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie.
She false with Cassio? did you say, with Cassio?
Iago.
With Cassio, mistress; go to, charm your tongue.
Æmil.
I will not charm my tongue; I'm bound to speak;
My mistress lies here murther'd in her bed.
All.
Oh heavens forefend!
Æmil.
And your reports have set the murther on.
Oth.
Nay, stare not, masters; it is true, indeed.
Gra.
'Tis a strange truth.
Mon.
Oh monstrous act!
Æmil.
Villany! villany! villany!
I think upon't—I think—I smell't—Oh villany!
I thought so then; I'll kill myself for grief;—
Oh villany, villany!
Iago.
What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.
-- 488 --
Æmil.
Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak;
'Tis proper I obey him, but not now:
Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.
Oth.
Oh! oh! oh!
[Othello falls on the bed.
Æmil.
Nay, lay thee down and roar:
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest Innocent,
That e'er did lift up eye.
Oth.
Oh, she was foul!
[Rising.
I scarce did know you, Uncle; there lyes your Niece,
Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stop'd;
I know, this act shews horrible and grim.
Gra.
Poor Desdemona! I'm glad, thy father's dead:
Thy match was mortal to him; and pure grief
Shore his old thread in twain. Did he live now,
This sight would make him do a desp'rate turn;
Yea, curse his better Angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation.
Oth.
'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows,
That she with Cassio had the act of shame
A thousand times committed. Cassio confest it;
And she did gratifie his amourous works,
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand;
It was an handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.
Æmil.
Oh heav'n! oh heav'nly Powers!
Iago.
Come, hold your peace.
Æmil.
'Twill out, 'tiwll out,—I, peace!
No, I will speak as liberal as the air;
Let heav'n, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.
Iago.
Be wise, and get you home.
Æmil.
I will not.
[Iago offers to stab his wife.
Gra.
Fie, your sword upon a woman?
Æmil.
Oh, thou dull Moor! that handkerchief, thou speak'st of,
I found by fortune, and did give my husband;
For often, with a solemn earnestness,
(More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trifle,)
He begg'd of me to steal it.
-- 489 --
Iago.
Villanous whore!
Æmil.
She give it Cassio? alas, I found it,
And I did give't my husband.
Iago.
Filth, thou liest.
Æmil.
By heav'n, I do not; I do not, gentlemen:
Oh murd'rous coxcomb! what should such a fool
Do with so good a wife?
Iago breaks through and wounds his wife, then runs out.
Oth.
Are there no stones in heav'n,
But what serve for the thunder? precious villain!
Gra.
The woman falls; sure, he has kill'd his wife.
Æmil.
Ay, ay; oh, lay me by my mistress' side.
Gra.
He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.
Mon.
'Tis a notorious villain; take this weapon,
Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:
Come, guard the door without, let him not pass,
But kill him rather; I'll after that same villain,
For 'tis a damned slave.
[Exeunt Mon. and Gra.
Oth.
I am not valiant neither;
But every puny whipster gets my sword.
But why should honour out-live honesty?
Let it go all.
Æmil.
What did thy Song boad, lady?
Hark, can'st thou hear me? I will play the swan,
And die in musick; Willow, Willow, Willow—
Moor, she was chast; she lov'd thee, cruel Moor;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, alas, I die.
Æmilia dies.
Oth.
I have another weapon in this chamber,
It was a sword of Spain, the Ebro's temper;
Oh, here it is: Uncle, I must come forth.
Gra. within.]
If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear;
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.
Oth.
Look in upon me then, and speak with me,
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.
Re-enter Gratiano.
Gra.
What is the matter?
Oth.
Lo! I have a weapon:
A better never did itself sustain
-- 490 --
Upon a soldier's thigh. I've seen the day,
That with this little arm, and this good sword,
I've made my way thro more impediments,
Than twenty times your stop. But, oh vain boast!
Who can controul his fate? 'tis not so now.
Be not afraid, tho you do see me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my Butt,
The very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear:
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
Now—how dost thou look now? oh ill-starr'd Wench!
Pale as thy smock! When we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heav'n,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girl?
Ev'n like thy chastity. Oh cursed slave!
Whip me, ye Devils,
From the possession of this heav'nly sight;
Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur,
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire—
Oh Desdemona! Desdemona! dead, dead! oh, oh!
Enter Lodovico, Cassio led in wounded, Montano, and Iago
prisoner, with officers.
Lod.
Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?
Oth.
That's he, that was Othello: here I am.
Lod.
Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.
Oth.
I look down tow'rds his feet; but That's a fable.(54) note
If that thou beest a Devil, I cannot kill thee.
[Othello wounds Iago.
Lod.
Wrench his sword from him.
Iago.
I bleed, Sir, but not kill'd.
-- 491 --
Oth.
I am not sorry neither: I'd have thee live;
For, in my sense, tis happiness to die.
Lod.
Oh thou, Othello, that wast once so good,
Fal'n in the practice of a cursed slave,—
What shall be said to thee?
Oth.
Why, any thing;
An honourable murth'rer, if you will:
For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.
Lod.
This wretch hath part confest his villany:
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?
Oth.
Ay.
Cas.
Dear General, I never gave you Cause.
Oth.
I do believe it, and I ask your pardon:
Will you, I pray, demand that demy-devil,
Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body?
Iago.
Demand me nothing; what you know, you know;
From this time forth I never will speak word.
Lod.
What? not to pray?
Gra.
Torments will ope your lips.
Oth.
Well, thou dost best.
Lod.
Sir, you shall understand what hath befal'n,
Which, as I think, you know not; here's a letter,
Found in the pocket of the slain Rodorigo,
And, here, another; one of them imports
The death of Cassio to be undertook
By Rodorigo.
Oth.
Oh villain!
Cas.
Most heathenish and most gross!
Lod.
Now, here's another discontented paper,
Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
Rodorigo meant t'have sent this damned villain;
But that, belike, Iago in the interim
Came in and satisfy'd him.
Oth.
Oh thou pernicious caitiff!
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's?
Cas.
I found it in my chamber;
And he himself confest it but even now,
That there he dropt it for a special purpose,
-- 492 --
Which wrought to his desire.
Oth.
Oh fool, fool, fool!
Cas.
There is, besides, in Rodorigo's letter,
How he upbraids Iago that he made him
Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
That I was cast; and even now he spake,
After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him,
Iago set him on.
Lod.
You must forsake this room, and go with us;
Your Pow'r and your Command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
If there be any cunning cruelty,
That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian State. Come, bring him away.
Oth.
Soft you; a word or two, before you go.
I've done the State some service, and they know't;
No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me, as I am: Nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak
Of one that lov'd not wisely, but too well;
Of one, not easily jealous; but being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extream; of one, whose hand,(55) note
Like the base Judian, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose eyes,
-- 493 --
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this:
And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the State,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him thus.
[Stabs himself.
-- 494 --
Lod.
Oh bloody period!
Gra.
All, that is spoke, is marr'd.
Oth.
I kist thee, ere I kill'd thee.—No way but this,
[To Desdem.
Killing my self, to die upon a kiss.
[dies.
Cas.
This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;
For he was great of heart.
Lod.
Oh Spartan dog!
[To Iago.
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look on the tragick loading of this bed;
This is thy work; the object poisons sight,—
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they succeed to you. To you, lord Governor,
Remains the censure of this hellish villain:
The time, the place, the torture, oh! inforce it.
My self will straight aboard; and to the State
This heavy act, with heavy heart, relate.
[Exeunt.
