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,

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,

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,

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

Iago.
My noble lord,—

Oth.
What dost thou say, Iago?

Iago.
Did Michal Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
Know of your love?

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

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,

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

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

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,

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.

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;

'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.

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.

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.

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,

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.

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

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

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.

Previous section

Next section