SCENE I.
VENICE.
A Street.
Enter Roderigo, and Iago.
Rod.
Never tell me2 note, 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 me3 note:
If ever I did dream of such a matter, abhor me.
Rod.
Thou toldst me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.
Iago.
Despite me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
4 noteOft capp'd to him;—and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
-- 428 --
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance,
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion,
Non-suits my mediators; for, certes5 note
, says he,
I have already chosen my officer.
And what was he?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician6 note,
One Michael Cassio7 note, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damn'd 8 note
in a fair wife;
-- 429 --
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
-- 430 --
More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric9 note,
-- 431 --
1 note
Wherein the toged consuls can propose
As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practice,
-- 432 --
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
And I,—of whom his eyes had seen the proof,
At Rhodes, at Cyprus; and on other grounds
Christian and heathen,—2 note
must be be-lee'd and calm'd
By debtor and creditor, this counter-caster3 note;
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I, sir, (bless the mark4 note!) his Moor-ship's5 note ancient.
Rod.
By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.
Iago.
But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of service;
Preferment goes 6 noteby letter, and affection,
-- 433 --
7 note
Not by the old gradation, where each second
Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,
8 noteWhether I in any just term am affin'd
To love the Moor.
Rod.
I would not follow him then.
Iago.
O, sir, content you;
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, cashier'd;
Whip me such 9 notehonest 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,
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd their coats,
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;
And such a one do I profess myself.
-- 434 --
For, sir,
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven 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
1 note
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws2 note to peck at: I am not what I am.
Rod.
What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe3 note,
If he can carry't thus!
Iago.
Call up her father,
Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,
And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies: though 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,
4 note
As when, by night and negligence, the fire
Is spy'd in populous cities.
-- 435 --
Rod.
What ho! Brabantio! signior Brabantio, ho!
Iago.
Awake! what, ho! Brabantio! thieves! thieves!
Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags!
Thieves! thieves!
Brabantio, 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 your doors lock'd5 note?
Bra.
Why? wherefore ask you this?
Iago.
Sir, you are robb'd; for shame, put on your gown;
Your heart is burst6 note, you have lost half your soul;
-- 436 --
Even now, 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—Roderigo.
Bra.
The worse welcome:
I have charg'd thee, not to haunt about my doors:
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say,
My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,
Being full of supper, and distempering 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 them 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 grange7 note
.
-- 437 --
Rod.
Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you.
Iago.
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 daughter cover'd with a Barbary horse; you'll
have your nephews8 note
neigh to you: you'll have coursers
for cousins, and gennets for germans9 note
.
Bra.
1 note
What profane wretch art thou?
Iago.
I am one, sir, that comes to tell you, 2 note
your
-- 438 --
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, Roderigo.
Rod.
Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech you,
[3 noteIf't be your pleasure, and most wise consent,
(As partly, I find, it is) that your fair daughter,
At 4 note
this odd even and dull watch o' the night,
Transported—with no worse nor better guard,
But with a knave of common hire, a gondalier,—
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor:—
-- 439 --
If this be known to you, and your allowance,
We then have done you bold and saucy 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, 9Q1220
I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
Your daughter,—if you have not given her leave,—
I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,
To an extravagant5 note
and wheeling stranger,
Of here and every where: Straight satisfy yourself:]
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you6 note.
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 wholesome to my place,
To be produc'd7 note (as, if I stay, I shall)
Against the Moor: For, I do know, the state,—
However this may gall him with 8 notesome check,—
Cannot with safety 9 notecast him; for he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus' war,
(Which even now stands in act) that, for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have not,
-- 440 --
To lead their business: in which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,
I must shew out a flag and sign of love,
Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him,
Lead to the Sagittary the rais'd search;
And there will I be with him. So, farewel.
[Exit.
Enter, below, Brabantio, and servants.
Bra.
It is too true an evil: gone she is;
1 note
And what's to come of my despised time,
Is nought but bitterness.—Now, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her?—O unhappy girl!—
With the Moor, say'st thou?—Who would be a father?—
How didst thou know 'twas she?—2 note
O, thou deceiv'st me
Past thought!—What said she to you?—Get more tapers;
Raise all my kindred.—Are they marry'd, think you?
Rod.
Truly, I think, they are.
-- 441 --
Bra.
O heaven!—How got she out?—O treason of the blood!—
Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
By what you see them act.—Are there not charms,
3 note
By which the property of youth and maidhood4 note
May be abus'd? Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing?
Rod.
Yes, sir; I have, indeed.
Bra.
Call up my brother.—O, '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. 5 noteAt every house I'll call;
I may command at most:—Get weapons, ho!
And raise some special officers of might.6 note.—
On, good Roderigo; I'll deserve your pains.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another street.
Enter Othello, Iago, and attendants.
Iago.
Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
Yet do I hold it very stuff7 note
o' the conscience
-- 442 --
To do no contriv'd murder; I lack iniquity
Sometimes, to do me service: Nine or ten times
I had thought to have jerk'd him here under the ribs.
Oth.
'Tis 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 you, sir,
Are you fast marry'd? for, be sure of this,—
That the 8 notemagnifico is much belov'd;
And hath, in his effect, a voice potential
9 note
As double as the duke's: he will divorce you;
-- 443 --
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
The law (with all his might, to enforce it on)
Will give him cable.
Oth.
Let him do his spite:
My services, which I have done the signiory,
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
From 1 note
men of royal siege; 2 note
and my demerits
-- 444 --
3 note
May speak, unbonnetted, 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 4 noteunhoused free condition
Put into circumscription and confine
5 note
For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yonder?
-- 445 --
Enter Cassio, with others.
Iago.
These 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.
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 messengers6 note
This very night, at one another's heels;
And many of the 7 noteconsuls, rais'd, and met,
-- 446 --
Are at the duke's already: You have been hotly call'd for;
When, being not at your lodging to be found,
8 note
The senate hath sent about 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.
Cas.
Ancient, what makes he here?
Iago.
'Faith, he to-night hath boarded 9 note
a land-carrack;
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.
Cas.
I do not understand.
Iago.
He's married.
Cas.
To who1 note
?
-- 447 --
Re-enter Othello.
Iago.
Marry, to—Come, captain, will you go?
Oth.
Have with you2 note
.
Cas.
Here comes another troop to seek for you.
Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, with Officers.
Iago.
It is Brabantio:—general, 3 notebe advis'd;
He comes to bad intent.
Oth.
Hola! stand there!
Rod.
Signior, it is the Moor.
Bra.
Down with him, thief!
[They draw on both sides.
Iago.
You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you.
Oth.
Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.—
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 magic were not bound,
Whether a maid—so tender, fair, and happy,
So opposite to marriage, that she shun'd
4 note
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,—
-- 448 --
Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
Of such a thing as thou; to fear5 note
, not to delight.
[6 noteJudge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense,
That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms;
7 note
Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals,
-- 449 --
That weaken motion:—I'll have it disputed on;
'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
I therefore apprehend and do attach thee,]
For an abuser8 note of the world, a practiser
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 that 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,
-- 450 --
To bring9 note me to him?
Offi.
'Tis true, most worthy signior,
The duke's in council; and your noble self,
I am 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,
1 note
Bond-slaves, and pagans, shall our statesmen be.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Council-chamber.
Duke, and Senators, sitting.
Duke.
2 noteThere is no composition in these news,
That gives them credit.
-- 451 --
1 Sen.
Indeed, they are 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,
(3 note
As in these cases where they aim reports,
'Tis oft with difference) 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.
Sailor within.]
What ho! what ho! what ho!
Enter an Officer, with a Sailor.
Offi.
A messenger from the gallies.
Duke.
Now? the business?
Sail.
The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
So was I bid report here to the state,
By signior Angelo4 note.
Duke.
How say you by this change?
-- 452 --
1 Sen.
This cannot be,
5 noteBy no assay of reason; 'tis a pageant,
To keep us in false gaze: When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk;
And let ourselves again but understand,
That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more 6 notefacile question bear it,
7 noteFor that it stands not in such 8 notewarlike brace,
But altogether lacks the 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 wage9 note
, 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 injointed them with an after fleet.
1 Sen.
Ay, so I thought1 note:—How many, as you guess?
-- 453 --
Mes.
Of thirty sail: and now they do re-stem2 note
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,
3 note
And prays you to believe him.
Duke.
'Tis certain then for Cyprus.—
Marcus Lucchesé, is not he in town?
1 Sen.
He's now in Florence.
Duke.
Write from us; wish him, post, post-haste: dispatch. 9Q1224
1 Sen.
Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant Moor.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers.
Duke.
Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
Against the general enemy Ottoman.—
I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
[To Brab.
We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night.
Bra.
So did I yours: Good your grace, pardon me;
Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business,
Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the 4 notegeneral care
Take hold5 note on me; for my particular grief
-- 454 --
Is of so flood-gate and o'er-bearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And yet is still itself.
Duke.
Why, what's the matter?
Bra.
My daughter! O, my daughter!
Sen.
Dead?
Bra.
Ay, to me;
She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted
6 note
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks:
For nature so preposterously to err,
Being not7 note deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
Sans witchcraft could not—
Duke.
Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul proceeding,
Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself,
And you of her, the bloody book of law
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter,
After your own sense; yea, though our proper son
-- 455 --
8 noteStood 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 are very sorry for it.
Duke.
What, in your own part, can you say to this?
[To Othello.
Bra.
Nothing, but this is so.
Oth.
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
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;
9 noteThe very head and front of my offending 9Q1225
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
1 note
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
'Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd
2 noteTheir dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious patience,
-- 456 --
I will a round unvarnish'd3 note tale deliver
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic,
(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
4 noteBlush'd at herself; And she,—in spite 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,
That will confess—perfection so could err
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 vouch5 note this, is no proof;
Without more certain and more 6 noteovert test,
Than these 7 note
thin habits, and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming, do prefer against him.
-- 457 --
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 do beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittary8 note,
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 you9 note,
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 truly1 note as to heaven
I do confess2 note the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How did I 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 battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd:
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field;
Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach;
-- 458 --
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
3 note
And portance in my travel's history:
4 note
Wherein of antres vast, and desarts idle,
-- 459 --
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,
5 note
It was my hint to speak, such was the process;
-- 460 --
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and 6 note
men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things 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 ear7 note
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,
8 note
But not intentively: I did consent;
-- 461 --
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 9 notea 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 heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me;
And bade 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. Upon this hint, I spake:
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,
Take up this mangled matter at the best:
Men do their broken weapons rather use,
-- 462 --
Than their bare hands.
Bra.
I pray you, hear her speak;
If she confess, that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head1 note, if my bad blame
Light on the man!—Come hither, gentle mistress;
Do you perceive in all this noble company,
Where most you owe obedience?
Des.
My noble father,
I do perceive here a divided duty:
To you I am bound for life, and education;
My life, and education, both do learn me
How to respect you; you are the lord of duty2 note
,
I am 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,
Which3 note, but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keep from thee.—For your sake, jewel,
I am 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.
4 note
Let me speak like yourself; and lay a sentence,
-- 463 --
Which, 5 note
as a grise, or step, may help these lovers
6 noteInto 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 on7 note.
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.
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
8 noteBut the free comfort which from thence he hears:
-- 464 --
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:
9 note
But words are words; I never yet did hear,
That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear.
-- 465 --
I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of 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 allow'd sufficiency, yet
opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more
safe voice on you: you must therefore be content to
slubber1 note
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 2 notethrice-driven bed of down: I do agnize3 note
A natural and prompt alacrity,
I find in hardness; and do undertake
This present was against the Ottomites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
4 note
I crave fit disposition for my wife;
-- 466 --
Due reference of place, and exhibition;
With such accommodation, and besort,
As levels with her breeding.
Duke.
If you please,
Be't at her father's.
Bra.
I will not have it so.
Oth.
Nor I.
Des.
Nor I; I would not there reside,
To put my father in impatient thoughts,
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend a gracious ear5 note
;
And let me find 6 notea charter in your voice,
To assist my simpleness7 note
.
Duke.
What would you, Desdemona?
Des.
That I did love the Moor to live with him,
8 note
My down-right violence and storm of fortunes
May trumpet to the world; my heart's subdu'd
-- 467 --
Even to the very quality of my lord9 note
:
1 noteI 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, lords2 note:—I do beseech you, let
Her will have a free way.
Vouch with me heaven, I therefore beg it not3 note,
To please the palate of my appetite;
4 note
Nor to comply with heat, (the young affects,
In me defunct) and proper satisfaction;
-- 468 --
But to be free and bounteous to her mind:9Q1230
-- 469 --
And heaven defend5 note
your good souls, that you think
I will your serious and great business scant,
-- 470 --
For she is with me; No, 6 note
when light-wing'd toys
Of feather'd Cupid, seel with wanton dulness
My speculative and active 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 estimation7 note!
-- 471 --
Duke.
Be it as you shall privately determine,
Either for her stay, or going: the affair cries—haste,
And speed must answer it; you must hence to-night.
Des.
To-night, my lord?
Duke.
This night.
Oth.
With all my heart.
Duke.
At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again.
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 ancient;
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,
[To Brab.
8 note
If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
-- 472 --
Sen.
Adieu, brave Moor! use Desdemona well.
Bra.
Look to her, Moor; 9 note
have a quick eye to see;
She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.
[Exeunt Duke, and 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 them after in the 1 notebest advantage.—
Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matter and direction,
To spend with thee: we must obey the time.
[Exeunt Othello, and Desdemona.
Rod.
Iago,—
Iago.
What say'st thou, noble heart?
Rod.
What will I do, think'st 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 it. Why, thou silly gentleman!
Rod.
It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment:
and then have we a prescription to die, when death is
our physician.
Iago.
O villainous! I have look'd upon the world
for four times seven years: 9Q1231 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 drown myself for the love of 2 note
a Guinea
hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.
-- 473 --
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 ourselves, that we are
thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens; to the
which, our wills are gardeners: 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 manur'd with industry; why, the power
and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If
the balance3 note 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 scyon4 note.
Rod.
It cannot be.
Iago.
It is merely a lust of the blood, and a permission
of the will. Come, be a man: Drown thyself?
drown cats, and blind puppies. I have profess'd
me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy
deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I
could never better stead thee than now. Put money
in thy purse: follow thou these wars; 5 note
defeat thy
favour with an usurped beard: I say, put money in
-- 474 --
thy purse. It cannot be, that Desdemona should
long continue her love to the Moor,—put money in
thy purse;—nor he his to her: 6 note
it was a violent
commencement in her, and thou shalt see an answerable
sequestration;—put but money in thy
purse.—These Moors are changeable in their wills;—
fill thy purse with money: the food that to him
now is 7 note
as luscious as locusts, shall be to him
shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change
-- 475 --
for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will
find the error of her choice.—She must have change,
she must: therefore put money in thy purse.—If
thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate
way than drowning. Make all the money thou
canst: If sanctimony and a frail vow, 8 note
betwixt an
erring Barbarian and a super-subtle Venetian, be not
too hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell,
thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A
pox of drowning thyself! 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.
Rod.
Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend
on the issue9 note?
Iago.
Thou art sure of me;—Go, make money:—
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 conjunctive1 note in our
revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold him,
thou dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport. There
are many events in the womb of time, which will
be delivered. Traverse; go; provide thy money.
We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu.
Rod.
Where shall we meet i' the morning?
Iago.
At my lodging.
-- 476 --
Rod.
I'll be with thee betimes.
Iago.
Go to; farewel. Do you hear, Roderigo?
Rod.
What say you2 note?
Iago.
No more of drowning, do you hear.
Rod.
I am chang'd3 note. I'll go sell all my land.
Iago.
Go to; farewel: put money enough in your purse4 note.
[Exit Roderigo.
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 mere 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 will5 note,
A double knavery,—How? how?—Let me see:—
After some time, to 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 nature6 note
,
That thinks men honest, that but seem to be so;
And will as tenderly be led by the nose,
As asses are.
I have't;—it is engender'd:—Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
[Exit.
-- 477 --
ACT II.
SCENE I.
The capital of Cyprus.
A platform.
Enter Montano, and two Gentlemen.
Mont.
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 them7 note
,
Can hold the mortice? What shall we hear of this?
2 Gent.
A segregation of the Turkish fleet:
For do but stand upon the foaming shore8 note
,
The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds;
The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous main,
Seems to cast water on the burning bear,
-- 478 --
9 note
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed 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 are drown'd;
It is impossible they 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
Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance
On most part of their fleet.
Mont.
How! is this true?
3. Gent.
1 note
The ship is here put in,
A Veronesè: Michael Cassio,
-- 479 --
Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello,
Is come on shore: the Moor himself's at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
Mont.
I am 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 heaven he be;
For I have serv'd him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let's to the sea side, ho!
As well to see the vessel that's come in,
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello;
Even 'till we make the main2 note, and the aerial blue,
-- 480 --
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 isle3 note,
That so approve the Moor; O, let the heavens
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea!
Mont.
Is he well shipp'd?
Cas.
4 note
His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot
-- 481 --
5 note
Of very expert and approv'd allowance;9Q1233
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' the 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 courtesy;
Our friends, at least.
[Guns heard.
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,
6 note
And, in the essential vesture of creation,
-- 482 --
Does bear all excellency.—How now? who has put in?
-- 483 --
Re-enter Gentleman.
Gent.
'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.
Cas.
He has had most favourable and happy speed:
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands,—
7 note
Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,—
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting go safely 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,
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 arms8 note
,
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits,
-- 484 --
And bring all Cyprus9 note comfort!—O, behold,
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Roderigo, and Æmilia.
The riches of the ship is come on shore!—
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees:—
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
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!
[Guns heard.
Gent.
They give this greeting to the citadel;
This likewise is a friend.
Cas.
See for the news1 note.—
[An Attendant goes out.
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 courtesy.
[Kisses her.
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 much2 note
;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep:
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
-- 485 --
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.
Æmil.
You have little cause to say so.
Iago.
Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,
Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens,
3 note
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.
Des.
O, fie upon thee, slanderer4 note!
Iago.
Nay, it is true, or else I am 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.
O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
For I am nothing, if not 5 notecritical.
-- 486 --
Des.
Come on, 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 bird-lime does from frize,
It plucks out brains and all: But my muse labours,
And thus she is deliver'd.
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 fit6 note.
Des.
Worse and worse.
Æmil.
How, if fair and foolish?
Iago.
7 note
She never yet was foolish that was fair;
For even her folly help'd her to an heir.
Des.
These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools
laugh i' the 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.
Des.
O heavy ignorance!—thou praisest the worst
-- 487 --
best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving
woman indeed?9Q1235 8 note
one, that, in the authority
of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very
malice itself?
Iago.
She that was ever fair, and never proud;
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud;
Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay;
Fled from her wish, and yet said,—now I may;
She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade 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 tail9 note;
-- 488 --
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following, and not look behind1 note;
She was a wight,—if ever such wight were,—
Des.
To do what?
Iago.
2 noteTo suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.
Des.
O most lame and impotent conclusion!—Do
not learn of him, Æmilia, though he be thy husband.
—How say you, Cassio? is he not a most3 note
profane and 4 note
liberal counsellor?
-- 489 --
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; 5 note
I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.
You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as
these strip you out of your lieutenantry, 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; 6 note
well kiss'd! an excellent courtesy!
'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips?
'would, they were clyster-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.
O 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 calmness, 9Q1236
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
-- 490 --
As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy 9Q1237; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
Des.
The heavens forbid,
But that our loves and comforts should encrease,
Even 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 her7 note
.
That e'er our hearts shall make!
Iago.
O, you are well tun'd now!
But I'll let down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.
[Aside.
Oth.
Come, let us to the castle.—
8 noteNews, 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 have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
9 noteI prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comforts,—I pr'ythee, good Iago,
-- 491 --
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou 1 notethe master to the citadel;
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect.—Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.
[Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants.
Iago.
Do thou meet me presently at the harbour.
Come hither. 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 guard2 note
:
—First, I must tell thee this,—Desdemona is directly
in love with him.
Rod.
With him! why, 'tis not possible.
Iago.
3 noteLay thy finger—thus, and let thy soul be
instructed. Mark me with what violence she first
lov'd the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her
santastical lies: And will she love him still for prating4 note?
let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye
must be fed; and what delight shall she have to
look on the devil? 5 noteWhen the blood is made dull
with the act of sport, there should be,—again to inflame
-- 492 --
it6 note, 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 itself 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
eminently in the degree of this fortune, as Cassio
does? a knave very voluble; no farther conscionable,
than in putting on the mere form of civil and
humane seeming, for the better compassing of his
salt and most hidden loose affection? why, none;
why, none: A slippery and subtle knave; a finder
out of occasions; that has an eye can stamp and
counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never
present itself: A devilish knave! besides, the knave
is handsome, young; and hath all those requisites in
him, that folly and 7 notegreen minds look after: A pestilent
complete knave; and the woman hath found
him already.
Rod.
I cannot believe that in her; she is full of
most bless'd 8 notecondition.
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
-- 493 --
thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand?
didst not mark that?
Rod.
Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.
Iago.
Lechery, by this hand! an index, and obscure
prologue9 note
to the history of lust and foul
thoughts. They met so near with their lips, that
their breaths embrac'd together. Villainous thoughts,
Roderigo! when these mutualities so marshal the way,
hard at hand comes the master and main exercise,
the 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 1 notetainting his
discipline; or from what other course2 note you please,
which the time shall more favourably minister.
Rod.
Well.
Iago.
Sir, he is rash, and very 3 notesudden in choler;
and, haply, with his truncheon may strike at you:
Provoke him, that he may: for, even out of that,
will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; 4 note
whose qualification
shall come into no true taste again, but by
-- 494 --
the 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 impediment most
profitably removed, without the which there were 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
citadel: I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewel.
Rod.
Adieu.
[Exit.
Iago.
That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
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 do love her too;
Not out of absolute lust, (though, peradventure,
I stand accountant for as great a sin)
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leap'd into my seat: the thought whereof
Doth, 5 notelike a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
And nothing can or shall content my soul,
'Till I am even with him6 note
, wife for wife;
Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
-- 495 --
That judgment cannot cure. 7 note
Which thing to do,—
If this poor trash of Venice, 8 note
note trash for overtopping.—
To trash for overtopping; i. e. “What suitors to check for their
too great forwardness.” Here another phrase of the field is joined
with to trash. To overtop is when a hound gives his tongue above
the rest, too loudly or too readily; for which he ought to be trash'd
or rated. Topper, in the good sense of the word, is a common
name for a hound. Shakespeare is fond of allusions to hunting,
and appears to be well acquainted with its language. This explication
of trash illustrates a passage in the Bonduca of Beaumont and
Fletcher, which has been hitherto misunderstood and misrepresented;
and where the use of the word equally reflects light on our
author. Act I. Sc. I. vol. vi. p. 274.
Car.
I fled too,
But not so fast: your jewel had been lost then,
Young Hengo there; he trash'd me.
Here Bonduca and Nennius are accusing Caratach of running away
from the Romans. Caratach answers, “It is very true, Nennius,
that I fled from the Romans.—But recollect, I did not run so fast as
you pretend: I soon stood still to defend your favourite youth Hengo:
—He stopped my flight, and I saved his life.” In this passage,
where trash properly signifies check, the commentators substitute
trace: a correction, which entirely destroys the force of the context,
and the spirit of the reply.
Warton.
To trash likewise signifies to follow. So, in the Puritan Widow,
1605: “A guarded lackey to run before it, and py'd liveries to
come trashing after it.” The repetition of the word trash is much
in Shakespeare's manner, though in his worst. In a subsequent
scene, Iago calls Bianca—trash.
Steevens.
whom I trash
-- 496 --
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
9 noteI'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip;
-- 497 --
Abuse him to the Moor 1 note
in the rank 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;
2 noteKnavery's plain face is never seen, 'till us'd.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
A 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 3 note
mere perdition of the Turkish fleet,
every man put himself into triumph; some to dance,
some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and
revels his addiction4 note leads him; for, besides these
beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptials:
So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All
-- 498 --
offices are open; and there is full liberty of feasting,
from this present hour of five, 'till the bell hath told
eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus, and our
noble general Othello!
[Exit.
SCENE III.
The castle.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.
Oth.
Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:
Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
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;
[To Desd.
That profit's yet to come 'twixt 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' clock: 5 note
Our general cast us thus early, for the
-- 499 --
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 is a most fresh and delicate creature.
Iago.
What an eye she has! methinks, it sounds a
parley of provocation.
Cas.
An inviting eye; and yet, methinks, right
modest.
Iago.
And, when she speaks, is it not 6 notean alarum
to love7 note?
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
courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
Iago.
O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll
drink for you.
Cas.
I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that
was 8 notecraftily 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,
-- 500 --
With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool, Roderigo,
Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side outward,
To Desdemona hath to-night carouz'd
Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch:
Three lads of Cyprus9 note,—noble swelling spirits,
That hold their honours in a wary distance,
1 noteThe 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:
2 note
If consequence do but approve my dream,
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen.
Cas.
'Fore heaven, they have 3 note
given me a rouse
already.
-- 501 --
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;
A life's but a span4 note
;
Why then, let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys!
Cas.
'Fore heaven, 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-bellied Hollander,—Drink, ho!
—are nothing to your English.
Cas.
Is your Englishman 5 note
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.
Mon.
I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you
justice.
Iago.
O sweet England!
-- 502 --
6 note
King Stephen was a worthy peer7 note,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them six-pence all too dear,
With that he call'd the taylor—8 notelown.
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 it again?
Cas.
No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his
place, that does those things.—Well,—Heaven's above
all;9Q1238 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 I do 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
us our sins!—Gentlemen, let's look to our business.
Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk; this is my
ancient;—this is my right hand, and this is my left
-- 503 --
hand:—I am not drunk now; I can stand well
enough, and I speak well enough.
All.
Excellent well.
Cas.
Why, very well then: you must not think
then that I am drunk.
[Exit.
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 virtue a just equinox,
The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him.
I fear, the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.
Mont.
But is he often thus?
Iago.
'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
9 note
He'll watch the horologe 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
-- 504 --
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
And looks not on his evils; Is not this true?
Enter Roderigo.
Iago.
How now, Roderigo?
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 1 noteingraft 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. But, hark! what noise?
[Cry within,—
Help! help!
Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo.
Cas.
You rogue! you rascal!
Mont.
What's the matter, lieutenant?
Cas.
A knave!—teach me my duty!
I'll beat the knave 2 noteinto 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.
[Aside to Rod.
[Exit Roderigo.
-- 505 --
Nay, good lieutenant,—alas, gentlemen,—
Help, ho!—Lieutenant,—sir,—Montano,—sir;—
Help, masters! Here's a goodly watch, indeed!—
Who's that that rings the bell?—Diablo3 note, 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, 4 note
I am hurt to the death;—he dies.
Oth.
Hold, for your lives.
Iago.
Hold, hold, lieutenant,—sir,—Montano,—gentlemen,—
Have you forgot 5 note
all sense of place and duty?
Hold, hold! the general speaks to you; hold, for shame!
Oth.
Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
Are we turn'd Turks; and to ourselves do that,
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
He that stirs next to carve forth his own rage,
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.—
-- 506 --
Silence that dreadful bell, 6 note
it frights the isle
From her propriety.—What is the matter, masters?—
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.
Iago.
I do not know;—friends all but now, even now,
7 noteIn 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 breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds;
And 'would in action glorious I had lost
These legs, that brought me to a part of it!
Oth.
How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot8 note?
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,
9 noteThat you unlace your reputation thus,
And 1 notespend your rich opinion, for the name
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.
Mon.
Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger;
Your officer, Iago, can inform you—
While I spare speech, which something now offends me,—
Of all that I do know: nor know I aught,
-- 507 --
By me that's said or done amiss this night;
Unless 2 noteself-charity be sometime a vice;
And to defend ourselves it be a sin,
When violence assails us.
Oth.
Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
3 note
And passion, having my best judgment collied,
Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
How this foul rout began, who set it on;
And 4 notehe that is approv'd in this offence,
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me.—What! in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brim-full of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel,
In night, and on the court and guard of safety! 9Q1240
'Tis monsterous.—Iago, who began't?
Mon.
If partially affin'd5 note
, or leagu'd in office,
-- 508 --
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.
Iago.
Touch me not so near:
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him.—Thus it is, general.
Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow, crying out for help;
And Cassio following him with determin'd sword,
To execute upon him: Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause;
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest, by his clamour (as it so fell out)
The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
Out-ran my purpose; and I return'd the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Cassio high in oath; which, 'till to-night,
I ne'er might say before: When I came back,
(For this was brief) I found them close together,
At blow, and thrust; even as again they were,
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter can I not report:—
But men are men; the best sometimes forget:
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,—
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,—
Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, receiv'd,
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;—
-- 509 --
I'll make thee an example.
Des.
What is the matter, dear?
Oth.
All's well now sweeting: Come away to bed.
Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:—
Lead him off.—
[To Montano, who is led off.
Iago, look with care about the town;
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.—
Come, Desdemona; 'tis the soldiers' life,
To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.
[Exit &c. Manent Iago, and Cassio.
Iago.
What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Cas.
Ay, past all surgery.
Iago.
Marry, heaven forbid!
Cas.
Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I
have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal
part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial.—
My reputation, Iago, my reputation.
Iago.
As I am an honest man, I had thought you
had receiv'd some bodily wound; there is more offence5 note
in that, than in reputation. Reputation is
an idle and most false imposition; oft got without
merit, and lost without deserving: You have lost no
reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a
loser. What, man! there are ways to recover the
general again: You are but now 6 notecast 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? 7 note
and speak
-- 510 --
parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse
fustian with one's own shadow?—O thou invisible
spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be
known by, let us call thee—devil!
Iago.
What was he that you follow'd with your
sword? What had he done to you?
Cas.
I know not.
Iago.
Is it possible?
Cas.
I remember a mass of things, but nothing
distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore.—O,
that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to
steal away their brains! that we should, with joy,
revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves
into beasts!
Iago.
Why, but you are now well enough; How
came you thus recover'd?
Cas.
It hath pleas'd the devil, drunkenness, to give
place to the devil, wrath: one unperfectness shews me
another, to make me frankly despise myself.
Iago.
Come, you are too severe a moraler: As the
time, the place, and the condition of this country
stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen;
but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.
Cas.
I will ask him for my place again; he shall
tell me, I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths
as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To
be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently
a beast! O strange!—Every inordinate cup
is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.
Iago.
Come, come, good wine is a good familiar
creature, if it be well used; exclaim no more against
-- 511 --
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, 8 note
for that he hath devoted and given up
himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement,
of her parts and graces:—confess yourself freely to
her; importune her; she'll help to put you in your
place again: she is of so free, so kind, so apt, so
blessed a disposition, that she holds it a vice in her
goodness, not to do more than she is requested:
This broken joint, between you and her husband,
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.
-- 512 --
Cas.
Good night, honest Iago.
[Exit Cassio.
Iago.
And what's he then, that says—I play the villain?
When 9 notethis advice is free I give, and honest,
Probable to thinking1 note, and (indeed) the course
To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy
The inclining Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit; she's fram'd as fruitful
As the 2 notefree 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. How am I then a villain,
To counsel Cassio 3 note
to this parallel course,
Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
When devils will their blackest sins put on, 9Q1242
They do suggest at first with heavenly shews,
As I do now: For, while this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
4 noteI'll pour this pestilence into his ear,—
5 noteThat she repeals him for her body's lust;
And, by how much she strives to do him good,
-- 513 --
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch;
And out of her own goodness make the net
6 noteThat shall enmesh them all.—How now, Roderigo?
Enter Roderigo.
Rod.
I do follow here in the chace, not like a
hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My
money is almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly
well cudgell'd; and, I think, the issue will
be—I shall have so much experience for my pains:
and so, with no money at all, and a little more wit7 note,
return 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 witchcraft;
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:
8 note
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits, that blossom first, will first be ripe:
Content thyself a while.—By the mass, 'tis morning;
-- 514 --
Pleasure, and action, make the hours seem short.—
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:—
Nay, get thee gone.—
[Exit Roderigo.
Two things are to be done,—
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
I'll set her on;
Myself, the while, will draw9 note the Moor apart,
And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife:—Ay, that's the way;
Dull not device by coldness and delay.
[Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Before the castle.
Enter Cassio, with Musicians.
Cas.
Masters, play here, I will content your pains,
Something that's brief; and bid—good-morrow, general.
[Musick plays; and enter Clown.
Clown.
1 noteWhy, masters, have your instruments
been at Naples, that they speak i' the nose thus?
Mus.
How, sir, how!
Clown.
Are these, I pray you, call'd wind instruments?
Mus.
Ay, marry, are they, sir.
-- 515 --
Clown.
O, 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 music, that he desires
you, 2 noteof all loves, to make no more noise with it.
Mus.
Well, sir, we will not.
Clown.
If you have any music that may not be
heard, to't again: but, as they say, to hear music,
the general does not greatly care.
Mus.
We have none such, sir.
Clown.
Then put up your pipes in your bag, 3 notefor
I'll away: Go; 4 notevanish into air; away.
[Exeunt Mus.
Cas.
Dost thou hear, my honest friend?
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 her a little favour of
speech: Wilt thou do this?
Clown.
She is stirring, sir; if she will stir hither,
I shall seem to notify unto her.
[Exit Clown.
Enter Iago.
Cas.
Do, good my friend.—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, Iago,
To send in for your wife: My suit to her
-- 516 --
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
Procure me some access.
Iago.
I'll send her to you presently:
And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor
Out of the way, that your converse and business
May be more free.
[Exit.
Cas.
I humbly thank you for't. I never knew
A Florentine more kind and honest.
Enter Æmilia.
Æmil,
Good morrow, good lieutenant: I am sorry
For your displeasure; but all will soon be well.
The general, and his wife, are talking of it;
And she speaks for your stoutly: The Moor replies,
That he, you hurt, is of great fame in Cyprus,
And great affinity; and that, in wholsome wisdom,
He might not but refuse you: but, he protests, he loves you;
And needs no other suitor, but his likings,
To take the safest occasion by the front5 note,
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 am much bound to you6 note.
[Exeunt.
-- 517 --
SCENE II.
A room in the castle.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.
Oth.
These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
And, by him, do my duties to the state:
That done, I will be walking on the works,
Repair there to me.
Iago.
Well, my good lord, I'll do't.
Oth.
This fortification, gentlemen,—shall wee see't?
Gent.
We'll wait upon your lordship.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Another room in the castle.
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 case were his7 note.
Des.
O, that's an honest fellow.—Do not doubt, Cassio,
But I will have my lord and you again
As friendly as you were.
Cas.
Bounteous madam,
Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
He's never any thing but your true servant.
Des.
O, sir, I thank you: You do love my lord;
You have known him long; and be you well assur'd,
He shall in strangeness stand no farther off
Than in a politic distance.
-- 518 --
Cas.
Ay, but, lady,
8 noteThat policy may either last so long,
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
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;
9 note
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 does
With Cassio's suit: Therefore be merry, Cassio;
For thy solicitor shall rather die,
Than give thy cause away.
Enter Othello, and Iago, at a distance.
Æmil.
Madam, here comes my lord.
-- 519 --
Cas.
Madam, I'll take my leave.
Des.
Why, stay, and hear me speak.
Cas.
Madam, not now; I am very ill at ease,
Unfit for mine own purposes.
Des.
Well, do your discretion.
[Exit Cassio.
Iago.
Ha! I like not that.
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 do 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,
1 note
His present reconciliation take;
For, if he be not one that truly loves you,
That errs in ignorance, 2 noteand not in cunning,
I have no judgment in an honest face:
I pr'ythee, call him back.
Oth.
Went he hence now?
Des.
Ay, 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.
-- 520 --
Des.
Shall't be to-night at supper?
Oth.
No, 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 pray thee, 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, 3 note
the wars must make examples
Out of their best) is not almost a fault
To incur a private check: When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul,
What you could ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering on4 note
. What! Michael Cassio,
That came a wooing with you5 note
; and so many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do
-- 521 --
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 dishes, or keep you warm;
Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
To your own person: Nay, when I have a suit,
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poize6 note
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 myself.
Des.
Shall I deny you? no: Farewel, my lord.
Oth.
Farewel, my Desdemona: I will come to thee straight.
Des.
Æmilia, come:—Be it as your fancies teach you;
Whate'er you be, I am obedient.
[Exit with Æmil.
Oth.
7 note
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
-- 522 --
But I do love thee! and 8 note
when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again.
Iago.
My noble lord,—
Oth.
What dost thou say, Iago?
Iago.
Did Michael 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 further harm.
Oth.
Why of thy thought, Iago?
Iago.
I did not think, he had been acquainted with it.
Oth.
O, yes; and went between us very oft.
Iago.
Indeed?
-- 523 --
Oth.
Indeed! ay, indeed;—Discern'st thou aught in that?
Is he not honest?
Iago.
Honest, my lord?
Oth.
Honest! ay, honest.
Iago.
My lord, for aught I know.
Oth.
What dost thou think?
Iago.
Think, my lord?
Oth.
Think, my lord!—By heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought9 note
,
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,
1 note
They are close delations, working from the heart,
-- 524 --
That passion cannot rule. 9Q1243
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;
2 note
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;
Though I am bound to every act of duty,
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
Utter my thoughts? Why, say, they are vile and false,—
As where's that palace, whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
-- 525 --
But some uncleanly apprehensions
3 note
Keep leets, and law-days, and in session 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,
4 note
Though I—perchance, am vicious in my guess,
-- 526 --
(As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To spy into abuses; and, oft, my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not) that your wisdom yet5 note
,
From one that so 6 note
imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance:—
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.
Oth.
What dost thou mean?
Iago.
Good name, in man, and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he, that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
-- 527 --
And makes me poor indeed.
Oth.
By heaven, I'll know thy thought.
Iago.
You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
Oth.
Ha!
Iago.
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey'd monster, 7 note
which doth mock
-- 528 --
The meat it feeds on: That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er,
Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves8 note!
Oth.
O misery!
Iago.
Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough;
9 noteBut riches, fineless, is 1 noteas poor as winter,
To him that ever fears he shall be poor:—
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!
-- 529 --
Oth.
Why? why is this?
Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy,
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
2 noteTo such exsuffolate 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;
3 note
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt;
For she had eyes, and chose me: No, Iago;
I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,—
Away at once with love, or jealousy.
Iago.
I am glad of this; for now I shall have reason
To shew the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,
Receive it from me:—I speak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
-- 530 --
Wear your eye—thus, not jealous, nor secure:
I would not have your free and noble nature,
4 noteOut of self-bounty, be abus'd; look to't:
I know 5 note
our country disposition well;
In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
They dare not shew their husbands; their best conscience
Is—not to leave undone, but keep unknown6 note
.
Oth.
Dost thou say so?
Iago.
She did deceive her father, marrying you;
7 note
And, when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks,
She lov'd them most.
Oth.
And so she did.
Iago.
Why, go to, then;
She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
8 note
To seel her father's eyes up, close as oak,—
-- 531 --
He thought, 'twas witchcraft:—But I am much to blame;
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon,
For too much loving you.
Oth.
I am bound to thee for ever.
Iago.
I see, this hath a little dash'd your spirits.
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 are mov'd;—
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech
9 noteTo grosser issues, nor to larger reach,
Than to suspicion.
Oth.
I will not.
Iago.
Should you do so, my lord,
1 note
My speech should fall into such vile success
As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend:—
-- 532 --
My lord, I see you are 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 itself,—
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 may smell, in such, a 2 notewill most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural.
But pardon me; I do not, in position,
Distinctly speak of her: though I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And (hapily) repent.
Oth.
Farewel, farewel:
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife to observe: Leave me, Iago.
Iago.
My lord, I take my leave.
[Going.
Oth.
Why did I marry?—This honest creature, doubtless,
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
Iago.
My lord,—I would, I might entreat your honour
To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
And though it be 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,
3 noteYou shall by that perceive him and his means:
-- 533 --
Note, if your lady 4 notestrain his entertainment
With any strong, or vehement importunity;
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,
(As worthy cause I have, to fear—I am)
And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.
Oth.
5 noteFear not my government.
Iago.
I once more take my leave.
[Exit.
Oth.
This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, 6 note
with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings: 7 note
If I do prove her haggard,
-- 534 --
8 note
Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings,
9 note
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind,
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black;
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers1 note
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
-- 535 --
Must be—to loath her. O 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' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones;
Prerogativ'd are they less than the base:
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death;
Even then this 2 note
forked plague is fated to us,
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes3 note:
Enter Desdemona, and Æmilia.
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!—
I'll not believe it.
Des.
How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders4 note
By you invited, do attend your presence.
-- 536 --
Oth.
I am to blame.
Des.
Why is your speech so faint? 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.
5 note
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 Desd. and Oth.
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, 9Q1246
And give it Iago:
What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I;
6 note
I nothing, but to please his fantasy.
Enter Iago.
Iago.
How now! what do you here alone?
Æmil.
Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.
-- 537 --
Iago.
You have a thing for me?—it is a common thing.9Q1247
Æmil.
Ha!
Iago.
To have a foolish wife.
Æmil.
O, 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, 7 noteto the advantage, I, being here, took it up.
Look, here it is.
Iago.
A good wench; give it me.
Æmil.
What will you do with it, that you have been so earnest
To have me filch it?
Iago.
Why, what is that to you?
[Snatching it.
Æmil.
If it be not for some purpose of import,
Give it me again: Poor lady! she'll run mad,
When she shall lack it.
Iago.
8 note
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,
-- 538 --
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ. This may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison:—
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons,
Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste;
But, with a little act upon the blood,
Burn like the mines of sulphur.—I did say so 9Q1249:—
Enter Othello.
Look, where he comes! Not poppy, 9 note
nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
1 note
Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep
-- 539 --
Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Oth.
Ha! ha! false to me? to me?
Iago.
Why, how now, general? no more of that.
Oth.
Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:—
I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd,
Than but to know't a little.
Iago.
How now, my lord?
Oth.
What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust2 note
?
I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
-- 540 --
I slept the next night well3 note
, was free, and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know it, 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: O now, for ever,
Farewel the tranquil mind! farewel content!
Farewel the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! O, farewel!
4 note
Farewel the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
-- 541 --
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner; and all quality,
-- 542 --
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war5 note
!
And O you mortal engines, 6 note
whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's occupation's gone!
Iago.
Is it possible?—My lord,—
Oth.
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;
[Catching hold on him.
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul7 note
,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.
Iago.
Is it come to this?
Oth.
Make me to see it; 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: 8 note
abandon all remorse;
-- 543 --
On horror's head horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep9 note
, all earth amaz'd;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.
Iago.
O grace! O heaven defend me!
Are you a man? have you a soul, or sense?—
God be wi' you; take mine office.—O wretched fool,
That liv'st1 note to make thine honesty a vice!—
O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honest, is not safe.—
I thank you for this profit; and, from hence,
I'll love no friend2 note, 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 that it works for.
Oth.
3 noteBy the world,
I think my wife be honest, and think she is not;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not;
I'll have some proof: Her name, that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black
As mine own face.—If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
I'll not endure it.—'Would, I were satisfied!
Iago.
I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion;
I do repent me, that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?
-- 544 --
Oth.
Would? nay, I will.
Iago.
And may; But, how? how satisfied, my lord?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on?
Behold her tupp'd4 note
?
Oth.
Death and damnation! O!
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,
5 note
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 it.
Oth.
6 noteGive me a living reason that she's disloyal. 9Q1251
Iago.
I do not like the office:
But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,—
Prick'd to it 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:
-- 545 --
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,—O sweet creature! and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluck'd 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.
O monstrous! monstrous!
Iago.
Nay, this was but his dream.
Oth.
But this denoted 7 notea foregone conclusion;
8 note
'Tis a shrewd doubt, though 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: 9 noteyet 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 am 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.
O, that the slave had forty thousand lives;
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge!
-- 546 --
1 note
Now do I see 'tis true.—Look here, Iago;
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven: 9Q1252
'Tis gone.—
Arise, black vengeance, from thy 2 note
hollow cell!
Yield up, O love, thy crown, and 3 note
hearted throne,
To tyrannous hate! 4 noteswell, bosom, with thy fraught,
-- 547 --
For 'tis of aspicks' tongues!
Iago.
Pray, be content.
Oth.
O, blood, Iago, blood!
Iago.
Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may change.
Oth.
Never, Iago: [5 note
Like to the Pontic sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontic, 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 capable6 note
and wide revenge
Swallow them up.—Now, 7 note
by yond'marble heaven,]
In the due reverence of a sacred vow
[He kneels.
I here engage my words.
-- 548 --
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 execution8 note of his wit, hands, heart,
To wrong'd Othello's service! 9 note
let him command,
-- 549 --
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
-- 550 --
What bloody work soever1 note
.
-- 551 --
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; 'tis done, at your request:
But let her live.
Oth.
Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!
Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,
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 IV.
Another apartment in the castle.
Enter Desdemona, Æmilia, and Clown.
Des.
Do you know, sirrah, where lieutenant Cassio lies?
Clown.
I dare not say, he lies any where.
Des.
Why, man?
Clown.
He is a soldier; and for me to say a soldier
lies, is stabbing.
Des.
Go to; Where lodges he?
-- 552 --
Clown.
To tell you2 note 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 lies here, or he lies
there, were to lie in mine own throat.
Des.
Can you enquire him out? and be edify'd by
report?
3 noteClown.
I will catechize the world for him; that
is, make questions, and make them answer.
Des.
Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him, I
have mov'd my lord in 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.
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 4 note
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.
-- 553 --
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?
Enter Othello.
Oth.
Well, my good lady:—[Aside.] O, hardness to dissemble!—
How do you, Desdemona?
Des.
Well, my good 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:5 note 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: 6 note
The hearts, of old, gave hands;
But our new heraldry is—hands, not hearts.
-- 554 --
Des.
I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.
Oth.
What promise, chuck?
Des.
I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
-- 555 --
Oth.
I have a 7 note
salt and sullen 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 is a fault: That handkerchief
Did an Ægyptian to my mother give:
She was a charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people: she told her, while she kept it,
'Twould make her amiable, and 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 loathly, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies: She, dying, gave it me;
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
To give it her. I did so: and take heed on't,
Make it a darling like your precious eye;
To lose't, or give't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.
Des.
Is it possible?
Oth.
'Tis true; there's magic in the web of it:
A sibyl8 note
, that had 9 note
number'd in the world
-- 556 --
The sun to course1 note two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work:
The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk;
2 note
And it was dy'd in mummy, which the skilful
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts3 note
.
Des.
Indeed! is it true?
Oth.
Most veritable; therefore look to it well.
Des.
Then 'would to heaven, that I had never seen it!
Oth.
Ha! wherefore?
Des.
Why do you speak so startingly and 4 noterash?
Oth.
Is it lost? is it gone? speak, is it out of the way?
Des.
Heaven bless us!
Oth.
Say you?
Des.
It is not lost; But what an if it were?
Oth.
Ha!
Des.
I say, it is not lost.
Oth.
Fetch it, let me see it.
Des.
Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now:
This is a trick, to put me from my suit;
I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again.
-- 557 --
Oth.
Fetch me that handkerchief: my mind misgives.
Des.
Come, come;
You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
Oth.
The handkerchief,—
Des.
I pray, talk me of Cassio5 note.
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.
Æmil.
Is not this man jealous?
Des.
I ne'er saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
Æmil.
6 note
'Tis not a year or two shews us a man:
-- 558 --
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
They eat us hungerly, and, when they are 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 again
Exist, and be a member of his love,
Whom I, with all 7 note
the duty of my heart,
Intirely honour; I would not be delay'd:
If my offence be of such mortal kind,
That neither service past, nor present sorrows,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,
Can ransom me into his love again,
8 note
But to know so must be my benefit;
So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content,
9 note
And shut myself up in some other course,
To fortune's alms.
-- 559 --
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 1 notein favour, as in humour, alter'd.
So help me every spirit sanctified,
As I have spoken for you all my best;
And stood 2 notewithin 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
Puff'd 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.
Des.
I pr'ythee, do so.—Something, sure, of state,—
Either from Venice; or 3 notesome unhatch'd practice,
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,—
Hath puddled his clear spirit: and, in such cases,
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
Though great ones are their object.
-- 560 --
'Tis even so; 4 note
for let our finger ach,
And it endues our other healthful members
Even to that sense of pain: Nay, we must think,
Men are not gods;
Nor of them look for such observancy
As fits the bridal.—Beshrew me much, Æmilia,
I was (5 note
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 heaven, it be state matters, as you think;
And no conception, nor no jealous toy,
Concerning you.
Des.
Alas the day! I never gave him cause.
Æmil.
But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster,
Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Des.
Heaven 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 to effect it to my uttermost.
-- 561 --
Cas.
I humbly thank your ladyship.
[Exeunt Desdemona, and Æmilia.
Enter Bianca.
Bian.
Save you, friend Cassio!
Cas.
What make 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?
Eightscore eight hours? and lovers' absent hours,
More tedious than the dial eightscore times?
O weary reckoning!
Cas.
Pardon me, Bianca;
I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd:
But I shall, in a 6 note
more continuate time,
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,
[Giving her Desdemona's handkerchief.
7 note
Take me this work out.
-- 562 --
Bian.
O Cassio, whence came this?
This is some token from a newer friend.
To the felt absence now I feel a cause:
Is it 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, sweet: I found it in my chamber.
I like the work well; ere it be demanded,
(As like enough, it will) I'd have it copy'd:
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 you8 note?
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; 9 noteI must be circumstanc'd.
[Exeunt.
-- 563 --
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
An apartment in the castle.
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 abed,
An hour, or more, not meaning any harm?
Oth.
1 note
Naked abed, Iago, and not mean harm?
It is hypocrisy against the devil:
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
2 note
The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.
-- 564 --
Iago.
So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip:
But if I give my wife a handkerchief,—
Oth.
What then?
Iago.
Why, then 'tis hers, my lord; and, being hers,
She may, I think, bestow't on any man.
Oth.
She is protectress of her honour too;
May she give that?
Iago.
Her honour is an essence that's not seen;
They have it very oft, that have it not:
But, for the handkerchief,—
Oth.
By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it:—
Thou saidst,—O, it comes o'er my memory,
As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
3 note
Boding to all,—he had my handkerchief.
Iago.
Ay, what of that?
-- 565 --
Oth.
That's not so good now.
Iago.
What if I had said, I had seen him do you wrong?
Or heard him say,—As knaves be such abroad,
Who having, by their own importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
4 note
Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose
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.
Lie—
Oth.
With her?
Iago.
With her, on her; what you will.
Oth.
Lie with her! lie on her!—We say, lie on
her, when they belie her: Lie with her! that's fulsome.
Handkerchief,—confessions,—handkerchief.
—To confess, and be hang'd for his labour5 note
.—
-- 566 --
First, to be hang'd, and then—to confess:—I tremble
at it.—Nature would not invest herself in such
6 noteshadowing passion, 7 note
without some instruction. It
is not words, that shake me thus:—Pish!—Noses,
-- 567 --
ears, and lips8 note
:—Is it possible?—Confess!—Handkerchief!
—O devil!—
[Falls in a trance.
Iago.
Work on,
My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught;
And many worthy and chaste dames, even thus,
All guiltless meet reproach.—What, ho! my lord!
My lord, I say! Othello!—How now, Cassio?
Enter Cassio.
Cas.
What's the matter?
Iago.
My lord is fallen into an epilepsy;
This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.
-- 568 --
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 yourself 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! no, by heaven:
'Would, you would bear your fortunes like a man.
Oth.
A horned man's9 note 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 yok'd,
May draw with you: there's millions now alive,
That nightly lie 1 note
in those unproper beds,
-- 569 --
Which they dare swear peculiar; your case is better,
O, 'tis the spight of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure couch,
And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know;
And, knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.
Oth.
O, thou art wise; 'tis certain.
Iago.
Stand you a while apart;
Confine yourself but in a patient 2 note
list.
Whilst you were here, ere while, mad with your grief3 note
,
(A passion most unsuiting such a man)
Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,
And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy;
Bade him anon return, and here speak with me;
The which he promis'd. Do but 4 noteencave yourself,
-- 570 --
And mark the fleers, 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
He hath, and is again to cope your wife;
I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;
5 note
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 housewife, that, by selling her desires,
Buys herself bread and cloaths: 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;
6 noteAnd his unbookish jealousy must construe
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviour,
Quite in the wrong.—How do you now, lieutenant?
-- 571 --
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 suit 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 it 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?
Cas.
Ha, ha, ha!
Oth.
7 noteDo you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?
[Aside.
Cas.
I marry her!—what? 8 note
a customer! I pr'ythee,
bear some charity to my wit; do not think it
so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha!
Oth.
So, so, 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.
9 note
Have you scor'd me? Well.
[Aside.
-- 572 --
Cas.
This is the monkey's own giving out: she is
persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and
flattery, not out of my promise.
Oth.
Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.
[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; by this hand1 note she falls thus about my
neck;—
Oth.
Crying, O dear Cassio! as it were: his gesture
imports it.
[Aside.
Cas.
So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so
hales, and pulls me: ha, ha, ha!—
Oth.
Now he tells, how she pluck'd him to my
chamber: O, 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 2 note
fitchew! marry, a perfum'd
-- 573 --
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 whole work.—A likely piece of work,
that you should find it in your chamber, and not
know who left it there! This is some minx's token,
and I must take out the work? There,—give it
your hobby-horse: wheresoever you had it, I'll take
out no work on't.
Cas.
How now, my sweet Bianca? how now? how
now?
Oth.
By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!
[Aside.
Bian.
An you'll come to supper to-night, you may:
an 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 street 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.
Oth.
How shall I murder him, Iago?
Iago.
Did you perceive how he laugh'd at his vice?
Oth.
O, 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.
-- 574 --
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 hand3 note
.
O, the world hath not a sweeter creature: she might
lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks.
Iago.
Nay, that's not your way.
Oth.
Hang her! I do but say what she is:—So
delicate with her needle!—An admirable musician!
O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!—Of
so high and plenteous wit and invention!—
Iago.
She's the worse for all this.
Oth.
O, a thousand, a thousand times:—And then,
of so gentle a condition!—
Iago.
Ay, too gentle.
Oth.
Nay, that's certain: But yet the pity of it,
Iago!—O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago!
Iago.
If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her
patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes
near nobody.
Oth.
I will chop her into messes:—Cuckold me!
Iago.
O, '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 beauty
unprovided my mind again:—this night, Iago.
-- 575 --
Iago.
Do it not with poison; strangle her in her bed,
even the bed she hath contaminated.
Oth.
Good, good: the justice of it pleases; very
good.
Iago.
And, for Cassio,—let me be his undertaker:
You shall hear more by midnight.
[A trumpet within.
Oth.
Excellent good.—What trumpet is that same?
Iage.
Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico,
Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him.
Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants.
Lod.
Save you, worthy general!
Oth.
With all my heart, sir.
Lod.
The duke and senators of Venice greet you.
[Gives him a letter.
Oth.
I kiss the 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 fallen between him and my lord
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.
Oth.
Are you sure of that?
Des.
My lord?
Oth.
‘This fail you not to do, as you will—’
[Reads.
Lod.
He did not call; he's busy in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt thy lord and Cassio?
Des.
A most unhappy one; I would do much
To 4 note
atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.
-- 576 --
Oth.
Fire and brimstone!
Des.
My lord?
Oth.
Are you wise?
Des.
What, is he angry?
Lod.
'May be, the letter mov'd him;
For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.
Des.
By my troth, I am glad on't.
Oth.
Indeed?
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 it: 'Tis very much;
Make her amends, she weeps.
Oth.
O devil, devil!
5 noteIf that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls6 note
would prove a crocodile:—
Out of my sight!
Des.
I will not stay to 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,
-- 577 --
And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
And she's obedient, as you say,—obedient,—
Very obedient;—7 note
Proceed you in your tears.—
Concerning this, sir,—O well-painted passion!—
I am commanded home:—Get you away;
I'll send for you anon.—Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice;—Hence, avaunt!—
[Exit Desdemona.
Cassio shall have my place8 note. And,—sir, to-night,
I do entreat that we may sup together.
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.—Goats and monkies9 note!
[Exit.
Lod.
Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senate
Call—all-in-all sufficient? This the noble nature
Whom passion could not shake? 1 note
whose solid virtue
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither graze, nor pierce?
-- 578 --
Iago.
He is much chang'd.
Lod.
Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?
Iago.
He is that 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,
-- 579 --
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;
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 am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another apartment in the castle.
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 she 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' the way?
Æmil.
Never.
Oth.
To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
Æmil.
Never, my lord.
Oth.
That's strange.
Æmil.
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 hath put this in your head,
Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
Is foul as slander.
-- 580 --
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 villainous secrets:
And yet she'll kneel, and pray; I have seen her do't.
Re-enter Æmilia, with Desdemona.
Des.
My lord, what is your will?
Oth.
Pray, 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. [To Æmilia.]
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 knees, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words,
2 noteBut not the words.
Oth.
Why, what art thou?
Des.
Your wife, my lord;
Your true and loyal wife.
Oth.
Come, swear it, damn thyself;
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double-damn'd,
Swear—thou art honest.
Des.
Heaven doth truly know it.
Oth.
Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as hell.
Des.
To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I false?
-- 581 --
Oth.
O Desdemona!—away! away! away!
Des.
Alas, the heavy day!—Why do you weep?
Am I the occasion 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 heaven
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;
Given to captivity me and my utmost 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 3 note
time of scorn
-- 582 --
To point his slow unmoving finger at,—
O! O!
Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have 4 notegarner'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!—5 note
turn thy complexion there!
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!
Des.
I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth.
O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. 6 note
O thou weed,
-- 583 --
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,
That the sense aches at thee,—'Would, thou hadst ne'er been born!
Des.
Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
Oth.
Was this fair paper7 note
, this most goodly book,
Made to write whore upon? What committed!
Committed8 note
!—O thou public commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deed.—What committed!
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it: What committed!—Impudent strumpet!
Des.
By heaven, you do me wrong.
Oth.
Are not you a strumpet?
-- 584 --
Des.
No, as I am a christian:
If to preserve this vessel for my lord, 9Q1258
From any other9 note 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 it possible?
Des.
O, heaven forgive us!
Oth.
I cry you mercy, then;
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.—You, mistress,
Enter Æmilia.
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay, you!
We have done our course; there's money for your pains;
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
[Exit.
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 who?
Æmil.
With my lord, madam?
Des.
Who is thy lord1 note?
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. Pr'ythee, to-night
-- 585 --
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets,—remember;—
And call thy husband hither.
Æmil.
Here is a change indeed!
[Exit.
Des.
'Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet.
How have I been behav'd, that he might stick
2 note
The small'st opinion on my great'st abuse.
Enter Iago, with Æmilia.
Iago.
What is your pleasure, madam? How is it with you?
Des.
I cannot tell. Those, that do teach young babes,
Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks:
He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,
I am a child to chiding.
Iago.
What is the matter, lady?
Æmil.
Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Thrown such despight and heavy terms upon her,
As true hearts cannot bear.
Des.
Am I that name, Iago?
Iago.
What name, fair lady?
Des.
Such as, she says, my lord did say I was.
Æmil.
He call'd her, whore; a beggar, in his drink,
Could not have laid such terms3 note
upon his callet. 9Q1259
-- 586 --
Iago.
Why did he so?
Des.
I do not know; I am sure, I am none such.
Iago.
Do not weep, do not weep; Alas, the day!
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 it!
How comes this trick upon him?
Des.
Nay, heaven doth know.
Æmil.
I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
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, heaven 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 likelihood?
The Moor's abus'd by some most villainous knave,
Some base 4 notenotorious knave, some scurvy fellow:—
O, heaven, that such companions5 note
thoud'st unfold;
And put in every honest hand a whip,
To lash the rascal naked through the world,
Even from the east to the west!
-- 587 --
Iago.
6 noteSpeak within door.
Æmil.
O, fie upon him! some such squire he was,
That turn'd your wit 7 notethe seamy side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
Iago.
You are a fool; go to.
Des.
O good Iago,
What shall I do to win my lord again?
Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven,
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel8 note:—
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Either in discourse, or thought9 note, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them in any other form;
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
And ever will,—though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement,—love him dearly,
Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much;
And his unkindness may defeat my life,
But never taint my love. I cannot say, whore;
It does abhor me, now I speak the word;
To do the act that might the addition earn,
Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.
Iago.
I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour;
The business of the state does him offence,
And he does 1 notechide with you.
Des.
If 'twere no other,—
Iago.
It is but so, I warrant you.
[Trumpets.
Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
-- 588 --
2 note
And the great messengers of Venice stay:
Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.
[Exeunt Desdemona, and Æmilia.
Enter Roderigo.
How now, Roderigo?
Rod.
I do not find, that thou deal'st justly with me.
Iago.
What in the contrary?
Rod.
Every day thou doff'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 persuaded, to put up in peace what
already I have foolishly suffered.
Iago.
Will you hear me, Roderigo?
Rod.
Faith, I have heard too much; for your
words and performances, are no kin together.
Iago.
You charge me most unjustly.
Rod.
With nought but truth. I have wasted myself
out of my means. The jewels you have had from
me, to deliver to Desdemona, would half have corrupted
a votarist: You have told me—she hath receiv'd
them, and return'd me expectations and comforts
of sudden respect 3 noteand acquaintance; 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: By this hand, I say, it is very
scurvy; and begin to find myself fobb'd in it.
Iago.
Very well.
Rod.
I tell you, 'tis not very well. I will make
myself known to Desdemona: if she will return me
-- 589 --
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 I have said nothing, but what I
protest intendment of doing.
Iago.
Why, now I see there's mettle in thee;
and even from this instant, do build on thee a better
opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo:
Thou hast taken against me a most just exception;
but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly
in thy affair.
Rod.
It hath not appear'd.
Iago.
I grant, indeed, it hath not appear'd; and
your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But,
Roderigo, if thou hast that within 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 enjoyest 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.
O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and taketh
away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode
be linger'd here by some accident; wherein none can
be so determinate, as the removing of Cassio.
Rod.
How do you mean—removing of him?
Iago.
Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's
place; knocking out his brains.
Rod.
And that you would have me to do?
Iago.
Ay; if you dare do yourself a profit, and a
right. He sups to-night with a harlot, and thither
-- 590 --
will I go to him;—he knows not yet of his honourable
fortune: if you will watch his going thence,
(which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and
one) you may take him at your pleasure; I will be
near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between
us. Come, stand not 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.
SCENE III.
A room in the castle.
Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Æmilia, and Attendants.
Lod.
I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.
Oth.
O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk.
Lod.
Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.
Des.
Your honour is most welcome.
Oth.
Will you walk, sir?—O, Desdemona!—
Des.
My lord?
Oth.
Get you to bed on the instant; I will be 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:
He hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you.
-- 591 --
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 bade 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 those same sheets.
Æmil.
Come, come, you talk.
Des.
My mother had a maid, call'd—Barbara;
She was in love; 4 note
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; 5 note
I have much to do,
-- 592 --
But to go hang my head all o' 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 handsome man.
Des.
He speaks well.
Æmil.
I know a lady in Venice, would have walk'd
barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his nether lip.
Des.
6 noteThe poor soul sat singing7 note 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 soften'd the stones;
Lay by these:
Sing willow, &c.
Willow, willow, &c.
Pr'ythee, hye thee; he'll come anon.—
Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
2.
Let no body blame him, his scorn I approve,—
Nay, that's not next.—Hark! who is it that knocks?
-- 593 --
Æmil.
It is the wind.
Des.
8 noteI 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. 9Q1260
So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch;
Doth that bode weeping?
Æmil.
'Tis neither here nor there.
Des.
I have heard it said so9 note.—O, these men, these men!—
Dost thou in conscience think,—tell me, Æmilia,—
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind?
Æmil.
There be some such, no question.
Des.
Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world?
Æmil.
Why, would not you?
Des.
No, by this heavenly light!
Æmil.
Nor I neither, by this heavenly light;
I might do't as well i' the dark.
Des.
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
Æmil.
The world is a huge thing: 'Tis a great price
For a small vice.
Des.
In troth, I think thou wouldst 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
-- 594 --
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' the
world; and, having the world for your labour, 'tis
a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly
make it right.
Des.
I do not think, there is any such woman.
Æmil.
Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage1 note, as
Would store the world they play'd for.
But, I do think2 note, it is their husband's 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 upon us; or, say, they strike us,
Or scant 3 noteour former having in despight;
Why, we have galls; and, though we have some grace,
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know,
Their wives have sense like them; they see, and smell,
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. What is it that they do,
When they change us for others? Is it sport?
I think, it is; And doth affection breed it?
I think it doth; 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.
-- 595 --
Des.
Good night, good night: 4 note
Heaven me such usage send,
Not to pick bad from bad; but, by bad, mend!
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
A street.
Enter Iago, and Roderigo.
Iago.
Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come:
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home;
Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow:
It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.
Rod.
Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't.
Iago.
Here, at thy hand; be bold, and take thy sword.
Rod.
I have no great devotion to the deed;
And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons:—
'Tis but a man gone:—forth, my sword; he dies.
[Stands apart.
Iago.
5 note
I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense,
-- 596 --
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain6 note: Live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold, and jewels, that I bobb'd from him,
As gifts to Desdemona;
It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life,
That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril.
No, he must die:—But so, I hear him coming.
Enter Cassio.
Rod.
I know his gait, 'tis he;—Villain, thou dy'st.
[He runs at Cassio, and wounds him.
Cas.
That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou think'st;
I will make proof of thine.
[Fight. Cassio wounds Roderigo: Iago cuts Cassio behind in the leg, and exit.
Rod.
O, I am slain!
-- 597 --
Cas.
I am maim'd for ever:—Help, ho! murder! murder!
Enter Othello, above.
Oth.
The voice of Cassio:—Iago keeps his word.
Rod.
O, villain that I am!
Oth.
Hark! 'tis even so.
Cas.
O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!
Oth.
'Tis he;—O brave Iago, honest, and just,
That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong!
Thou teachest me,—Minion, your dear lies dead,
And your fate hies apace7 note:—Strumpet, I come:
Forth of my heart8 note those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;9Q1261
Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted.9Q1262
[Exit Othello.
Enter Lodovico, and Gratiano, at a distance.
Cas.
What, ho! no watch? 9 note
no passage? murder! murder!
Gra.
'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.
Cas.
O, help!
Lod.
Hark!
Rod.
O wretched villain!
Lod.
Two or three groans;—it is 1 note
a heavy night:
-- 598 --
These may be counterfeits; let's think't unsafe
To come in to the cry, without more help.
Rod.
No body come? then shall I bleed to death.
Enter Iago, with a light.
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 murder?
Lod.
We do not know.
Iago.
Did not you hear a cry?
Cas.
Here, here; for heaven's sake, help me.
Iago.
What's the matter?
Gra.
This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.
Lod.
The same, indeed; a very valiant fellow.
Iago.
What are you here, that cry so grievously?
Cas.
Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
Give me some help.
Iago.
O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this?
Cas.
I think, that one of them is hereabout,
And cannot make away.
Iago.
O treacherous villains!—
What are you there? come in, and give some help.
[To Lod. and Gra.
Rod.
O, help me here!
Cas.
That's one of them.
Iago.
O murderous slave! O villain!
[Iago stabs him.
Rod.
O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!—O! O, O!
Iago.
Kill men i' the dark!—Where be these bloody thieves?—
-- 599 --
How silent is this town!—Ho! murder! murder!—
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!
Iago.
How is it, brother?
Cas.
My leg is cut in two.
Iago.
Marry, heaven forbid!—
Light, gentlemen;—I'll bind it with my shirt.
Enter Bianca.
Bian.
What is the matter, ho? who is't that cry'd?
Iago.
Who is't that cry'd?
Bian.
O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio!
O Cassio! Cassio! Cassio!
Iago.
O notable strumpet!—Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be, that have thus mangled you?
Cas.
No.
Gra.
I am sorry, to find you thus; I have been to seek you.
Iago.
Lend me a garter2 note: So.—O, for a chair,
To bear him easily hence!
Bian.
Alas, he faints:—O Cassio! Cassio! Cassio!
Iago.
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
To be a party in this injury.
Patience a while, good Cassio.—Come, come;
Lend me a light.—Know we this face, or no?
Alas! my friend, and my dear countryman3 note
,
-- 600 --
Roderigo? no:—Yes, sure;—O heaven! Roderigo.
Gra.
What, of Venice?
Iago.
Even he, sir; did you know him?
Gra.
Know him? ay.
Iago.
Signior Gratiano? I cry you 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?—O, a chair, a chair!
Gra.
Roderigo!
Iago.
He, he, 'tis he:—O, that's well said;—the chair:—
[A chair brought in.
Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
I'll fetch the general's surgeon.—For you, mistress,
[To Bianca.
Save you your labour.—He that lies slain here, Cassio,
Was my dear friend; What malice was between you?
Cas.
None in the world; nor do I know the man.
Iago. [To Bian.]
What, look you pale?—O, bear him out o' the air.—
[Cassio is borne off.
Stay you, good gentlemen4 note.—look you pale, mistress?
Do you perceive the gastness5 note of her eye?—
Nay, if you stare6 note, 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.
'Las, what's the matter? what's the matter, husband?
Iago.
Cassio hath here been set on in the dark,
By Roderigo, and fellows that are scap'd;
-- 601 --
He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
Æmil.
Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!
Iago.
This is the fruit of whoring.—Pr'ythee, Æmilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night:—
What, do you shake at that?
Bian.
He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.
Iago.
O, did he so? I charge you, go with me.
Æmil.
Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!
Bian.
I am no strumpet; but of life as honest,
As you that thus abuse me.
Æmil.
As I? foh! fie upon thee!
Iago.
Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd:—
Come, mistress, you must tell us another tale.—
Æmilia, run you to the citadel,
And tell my lord and lady what hath hap'd.—
Will you go on, I pray?—This is the night,
[Aside.
That either makes me, or fordoes7 note
me quite.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A bed-chamber: Desdemona in bed, asleep. A light burning.
Enter Othello.
Oth.
8 note
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,—
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!—
-- 602 --
It is the cause.—Yet I'll not shed her blood;
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
[Takes off his sword.
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men9 note.
1 note
Put out the light, and then—Put out the light!
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me:—but once put out thy light2 note,
-- 603 --
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relumine3 note. When I have pluck'd thy4 note
rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again,
It needs must wither:—I'll smell it on the tree.—
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice herself to break her sword!—Once more.—
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after:—Once more, and this the last:
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: 5 note
This sorrow's heavenly;
It strikes, where it doth love.—She wakes—
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 heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.
Des.
Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that?
-- 604 --
Oth.
Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by:
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
No,—Heaven forefend!—I would not kill thy soul6 note
.
Des.
Talk you of killing?
Oth.
Ay, I do.
Des.
Then, heaven
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 are fatal then,
When your eyes roll so: Why I should fear, I know not,
Since guiltiness I know not; but yet, I feel, I fear.
Oth.
Think on thy sins.
Des.
They are 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 to 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.
-- 605 --
Oth.
Yes, 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.
O, heaven 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 warranty of heaven
As I might love: I never gave him token.
Oth.
By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand.
O perjur'd woman! thou dost stone my heart,
And mak'st me call, what I intend to do,—
7 note
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice:
I saw the handkerchief.
Des.
He found it then;
I never gave it him:—Send for him hither,
And let him confess a truth.
Oth.
He hath confess'd.
Des.
What, my lord?
Oth.
That he hath—us'd thee.
Des.
How? unlawfully?
Oth.
Ay.
Des.
He will not say so.
-- 606 --
Oth.
No, his mouth is stopp'd;
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't8 note.
Des.
O, my fear interprets then,—What, is he dead?
Oth.
9 note
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.
O, 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 done1 note
,
There is no pause.
Des.
But while I say one prayer.
Oth.
2 note
It is too late.
[He smothers her.
-- 607 --
Æmilia within.
My lord, my lord! what ho! 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.
What ho! my lord, my lord!
Oth.
Who's there?
Æmil.
O, good my 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 wife3 note:
-- 608 --
O insupportable! O heavy hour!
Methinks, it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon; and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.
Æmil.
I do beseech you I may speak with you.
O, good my lord!
Oth.
I had forgot thee: O, come in, Æmilia:—
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.
O, my good lord, yonder's foul murder 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—Roderigo.
Oth.
Roderigo kill'd!
And Cassio kill'd!—
Æmil.
No, Cassio is not kill'd.
Oth.
Not Cassio kill'd? Then murder's out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
Des.
4 note
O, falsely, falsely murder'd!
-- 609 --
Æmil.
Alas! what cry is that?
Oth.
That! what?
Æmil.
Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice:—
Help! help, ho! help!—O lady, speak again!
Sweet Desdemona! O, sweet mistress, speak!
Des.
A guiltless death I die.
Æmil.
O, who hath done
This deed?
Des.
No body; I myself; farewel:
Commend me to my kind lord; O, farewel.
[Dies.
Oth.
Why, how should she be murder'd?
Æmil.
Alas, who knows?
Oth.
You heard her say herself, it was not I.
Æmil.
She said so; I must needs report the truth.
-- 610 --
Oth.
She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell;
'Twas I that kill'd her.
Æmil.
O, 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 5 notefalse as water.
Æmil.
Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false; O, she was heavenly true!
Oth.
Cassio did tup her; ask thy husband else:
O, 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. Nay, had she been true,
If heaven 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 first6 note;
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.
Æmil.
My husband?
Oth.
What needs this iteration7 note, woman?
I say, thy husband.
Æmil.
8 noteO mistress, 9 notevillainy hath made mocks with love!
-- 611 --
My husband say, that 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 say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart;
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
Oth.
Ha!
Æmil.
Do thy worst:
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven,
Than thou wast worthy her.
Oth.
Peace, you were best.
Æmil.
1 note
Thou hast not half that power to do me harm,
As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt!
As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed,—
I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known,
Though I lost twenty lives:—Help! help, ho! help!
The Moor hath kill'd my mistress; Murder! murder!
Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others.
Mon.
What is the matter?—How now, general?
Æmil.
O, are you come, Iago? you have done well,
That men must lay their murders on your neck.
Gra.
What is the matter?
-- 612 --
Æmil.
Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man:
He says, thou told'st him that his wife was false;
I know, thou did'st 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, 2 note
charm your tongue.
Æmil.
I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak;
My mistress3 note here lies murder'd in her bed.
All.
O heavens forefend!
Æmil.
And your reports have set the murder on.
-- 613 --
Oth.
Nay, stare not, masters; it is true, indeed.
Gra.
'Tis a strange truth.
Mon.
O monstrous act!
Æmil.
Villainy, villainy, villainy!—
I think upon't,—I think,—I smell't;—O villainy!
I thought so then;—I'll kill myself for grief.—
O villainy, villainy!
Iago.
What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.
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.
O! O! O!
[Othello looking on his wife.
Æmil.
Nay, lay thee down, and roar;
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent,
That e'er did lift up eye.
Oth.
O, she was foul!—
[Rising.
I scarce did know you, uncle: There lies your niece,
Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd:
I know, this act shews horrible and grim.
Gra.
Poor Desdemona! I am 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 desperate turn;
Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation. 9Q1265
Oth.
'Tis pitiful: but yet Iago knows,
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
4 note
A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it;
-- 614 --
And she did gratify his amorous works
With that recognizance and pledge of love
-- 615 --
Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand;
5 note
It was an handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.
Æmil.
O heaven! O heavenly powers!
Iago.
Come, hold your peace.
Æmil.
'Twill out, 'twill out:—I hold my peace, sir? no,
No, I will speak as liberal 6 note
as the north;
-- 616 --
Let heaven, 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.
O 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.
Iago.
Villainous whore!
Æmil.
She give it Cassio! no, alas; I found it,
And I did give it my husband.
Iago.
Filth, thou liest.
Æmil.
By heaven, I do not; I do not, gentlemen:
O murd'rous coxcomb! what should such a fool
Do with so good a wife?
[Iago stabs his wife, then runs out.
Oth.
7 note
Are there no stones in heaven,
But what serve for the thunder?—Precious villain!
-- 617 --
Gra.
The woman falls; sure, he has kill'd his wife.
Æmil.
Ay, ay; O, lay me by my mistress' side!
Gra.
He's gone; but his wife's kill'd.
Mon.
'Tis a notorious villain. Take you 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 bode, lady?
Hark, can'st thou hear me? I will play the swan,
And die in musick. Willow, willow, willow8 note.—
Moor, she was chaste; she lov'd thee, cruel Moor:
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, I die,—I die.
[Dies.
Oth.
I have another weapon in this chamber,
It is a sword of Spain, 9 note
the ice-brook's temper;—
O, here it is:—Uncle, I must come forth.
-- 618 --
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.
Behold! I have a weapon:
A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh 9Q1267: I have seen the day,
That, with this little arm, and this good sword,
I have made my way through more impediments
-- 619 --
Than twenty times your stop:—But, O vain boast!
Who can controul his fate? 'tis not so now.—
Be not afraid, though 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? O ill-starr'd wench1 note
!
Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl?
Even like thy chastity.—
O cursed, cursed slave!—Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!—
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead?
Dead? O! O! O!
Enter Lodovico, Cassio brought in; Montano, with Iago prisoner; and Officers.
Lod.
Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?
-- 620 --
Oth.
That's he, that was Othello; here I am.
Lod.
Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.
Oth.
I look down 2 notetowards his feet;—but that's a fable:
If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
[Othello wounds Iago.
Lod.
Wrench his sword from him.
Iago.
I bleed, sir; but not kill'd.
Oth.
I am not sorry neither; I'd have thee live;
For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die3 note
.
Lod.
O thou Othello, that wast once so good,
Fall'n 4 notein the practice of a cursed slave,
What shall be said to thee?
Oth.
Why, any thing:
An honourable murderer, if you will;
For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.
Lod.
This wretch hath part confess'd his villainy:
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 demi-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.
-- 621 --
Lod.
Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
Which, as I think, you know not: Here is a letter,
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;
And here, another: the one of them imports
The death of Cassio to be undertook
By Roderigo.
Oth.
O villain!
Cas.
Most heathenish, and most gross!
Lod.
Now here's another discontented paper,
Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
But that, belike, Iago 5 notein the interim
Came in and satisfied him.
Oth.
O the pernicious caitiff!—
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's?
Cas.
I found it in my chamber:
And he himself confess'd, but even now,
That there he dropp'd it, for a special purpose,
Which wrought to his desire.
Oth.
O fool! fool! fool!
Cas.
There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter,—
How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
That I was cast: And even but 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 power 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,
-- 622 --
'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 have done the state some service, and they know it;
No more of that:—I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
6 noteSpeak 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 extreme; 7 note
of one, whose hand,
Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away
-- 623 --
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdu'd eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
-- 624 --
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their med'cinable gum: Set you down this:
-- 625 --
And say, besides,—that in Aleppo once,
-- 626 --
8 noteWhere 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.
Lod.
O bloody period!
Gra.
All, that is spoke, is marr'd.
Oth.
I kiss'd thee, 'ere I kill'd thee;—No way but this,
[Falling upon Desdem.
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss9 note
.
[Dies.
-- 627 --
Cas.
This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;
For he was great of heart.
Lod.
1 noteO Spartan dog,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
[To Iago.
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 on you.—2 note
To you, lord governor,
-- 628 --
Remains the censure3 note of this hellish villain;
The time, the place, the torture,—O inforce it!
Myself will straight aboard; and, to the state,
This heavy act with heavy heart relate4.
[Exeunt.
