Iag.
Will you thinke so?

Oth.
Thinke so Iago.

Iag.
What, to kisse in priuate?

Oth.
An vnauthoriz'd kisse.

Iag.
Or to be naked with her friend a bed,
An houre, or more, not meaning any harme.

Oth.
Naked a bed Iago, and not meane harme?
It is hypocrisie against the diuell:
They that meane vertuously, and yet doe so,
The diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt heauen:

Iag.
So they doe nothing, tis a veniall slip;
But if I giue my wife a handkercher.

Oth.
What then?

Iag.
Why then tis hers my Lord, and being hers,
She may, I thinke, bestow't on any man.

Oth.
She is protectres of her honour to,
May she giue that?

Iag.
Her honour is an essence that's not seene,
They haue it very oft, that haue it not:
But for the handkercher.

Oth.
By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it;
Thou saidst (O it comes o're my memory,
As doth the Rauen o're the infected house,

Boding to all.) He had my hankercher.

Iag.
I, what of that?

Oth.
That's not so good now.

Iag.
What if I had said I had seene him do you wrong?
Or heard him say, as knaues be such abroad,
Who hauing by their owne importunate suite,
Or by the voluntary dotage of some mistris,
Coniured, or supplied them, cannot chuse,
But they must blab.

Oth.
Hath he said any thing?

Iag.
He hath my Lord, but be you well assur'd,
No more then hee'l vnsweare.

Oth.
What hath he sayd?

Iag.
Faith that he did—I know not what he did.

Oth.
But what?

Iag.
Lye.

Oth,
With her?

Iag.
With her, on her, what you will.

Oth.

Lie with her, lie on her? We say lie on her, when they bely her; lye with her, Zouns, thar's fulsome, handkerchers, Confession, hankerchers.

Iag.

Worke on my medicine, worke: thus credulous fooles are caught, and many worthy and chaste dames, euen thus all guiltlesse, meete reproach; What ho my Lord, my Lord I say, Othello,—how now Cassio.

Cas.
What's the matter?

Iag.
My Lord is falne into an Epilepsy,
This is his second fit, he had one yesterday.

Cas.
Rub him about the Temples.

Idg.
No, forbeare,
The Lethergie, must haue his quiet course,
If not he he foames at mouth, and by and by
Breakes out to sauage madnesse: looke he stirres:
Doe you withdraw your selfe a little while,
He will recouer straight, when he is gone,
I would on great occasion speake with you.
How is it Generall, haue you not hurt your head?

Oth.
Doest thon mocke me?

Iag.
I mocke you? no by Heauen,
Would you would beare your fortunes like a man.

Oth.
A horned man's a monster, and a beast:

Iag.
There's many a beast then in a populous City,
And many a ciuill monster.

Oth.
Did he confesse?

Iag.
God sir be a man,
Thinke euery bearded fellow, that's but yoak'd,
May draw with you, there's millions now aliue,
That nightly lyes in those vnproper beds,
Which they dare sweare peculiar: your case is better:
O tis the spite of hell, the fiends arch mocke,
To lip a wanton in a secure Coach,
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 certaine.

Iag.
Stand you a while apart,
Confine your selfe but in a patient list:
Whilst you were here ere while, mad with your griefe,
A passion most vnfitting such a man,
Cassio came hither, I shifted him away,
And layed good scuse, vpon your extacy,
Bid him anon retire, and here speake with me,
The which he promisde: but incaue your selfe,
And marke the geeres, the gibes, and notable scornes,
That dwell in euery region of his face;
For I will make him tell the tale anew,
Where, how, how oft, how long agoe, and when,
He has, and is againe to cope your wife:
I say, but marke his ieasture, mary patience,
Or I shall say, you are all in all, in spleene,
And nothing of a man.

Oth.
Doest thou heare Iago,
I will be found most cunuing in my patience;
But doest thou heare, most bloody.

Iag.
That's not amisse:
But yet keepe time in all; will you withdraw?

Now will I question Cassio of Bianca;
A huswife that by selling her desires,
Buys her selfe bread and cloathes: it is a Creature,
That dotes on Cassio: as tis the strumpets plague
To beguile many, and be beguild by one, Ent. Cassio.
He, when he heares of her, cannot refraine
From the excesse of laughter: here he comes:
As he shall smile, Othello shall goe mad,
And his vnbookish iealousie must conster
Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiour,
Quite in the wrong: How doe you now Leiutenant?

Cas.
The worser, that you giue me the addition,
Whose want euen kills me.

Iag.
Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't.
Now if this suite lay in Bianca's power,
How quickly should you speed.

Cas.
Alas poore Catiue.

Oth.
Looke how he laughes already.

Iag.
I neuer knew a woman loue man so.

Cas.
Alas poore rogue, I thinke ifaith she loues me.

Oth.
Now he denyes it faintly, and laughes it out.

Iag.
Doe you heare Cassio?

Oth.
Now he importunes him to tell it on,
Goe to, well said.

Iag.
She giues it out that you shall marry her,
Doe you intend it?

Cas.
Ha, ha, ha.

Oth.
Doe you triumph Roman, doe you triumph?

Cas.
I marry her? I prethee beare some charity to my wit,
Doe not thinke it so vnwholesome: ha, ha, ha.

Oth.

So, so, so, so, laugh that wins.

Iag.

Faith the cry goes, you shall marry her.

Cas.

Preethee say true.

Iag.

I am a very villaine else.

Oth.

Ha you stor'd me well.

Cas.

This is the monkies own giuing out; she is perswaded I wil marry her, out of her owne loue and flattery, not out of my promise.

Oth.

Iago beckons me, now he begins the story.

Cas.

She was heere euen now, shee haunts me in euery place, I was tother day, talking on the sea banke, with certaine Venetians, and thither comes this bauble, by this hand she fals thus about my neck.

Oth.

Crying, O deare Cassio, as it were: his iesture imports it.

Cas.

So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me; so hales, and puls me, ha, ha, ha.

Oth.
Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber,
I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw't to.

Cas.
Well, I must leaue her company. Enter Bianca.

Iag.
Before me, looke where she comes,

Tis such another ficho; marry a perfum'd one, what doe you meane by this hanting of me.

Bian.

Let the diuel and his dam haunt you, what did you meane by that same handkercher, you gaue mee euen now? I was a fine foole to take it; I must take out the whole worke, a likely peece of worke, that you should find it in your chamber, and not know who left it there: this is some minxes token, and I must take out the worke; there, giue it the hobby horse, wheresoeuer you had it, I'le take out no worke on't.

Cas.

How now my sweete Bianca, how now, how now?

Oth.

By heauen that should be my handkercher.

Bian.

An you'll come to supper to night, you may, an you will not, come when you are next prepar'd for.

Iag.

After her, after her.

Cas.

Faith I must, shee'll raile i'the streete else.

Iag.

Will you sup there?

Cas.

Faith I intend so.

Iag.

Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very faine speake with you.

Cas.

Preethee come, will you?

Iag.

Goe to, say no more.

Oth.
How shall I murder him Iago?

Iag.
Did yo perceiue, how he laughed at his vice?

Oth.
O Iago,

Iag.
And did you see the handkercher?

Oth.
Was that mine?

Oth.

I would haue him nine yeares a killing; a fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman.

Iag.

Nay you must forget.

Oth.

And let her rot and perish, and be damb'd to night, for she shall not liue: no, my heart is turn'd to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand: O the world has not a sweeter creature, she might lie by an Emperours side, and command him taskes.

Iag.

Nay that's not your way.

Oth.

Hang her, I doe but say what she is: So delicate with her needle, an admirable musition, O shee will sing the sauagenesse out of a Beare; of so hye and plentious wit and inuention.

Iag.

Shee's the worse for all this.

Oth.

A thousand thousand times: and then of so gentle a condition.

Iag.

I, too gentle.

Oth.

I that's certaine, but yet the pitty of it Iago, the pitty.

Ia.

If you be so fond ouer her iniquity, giue her patent to offend, for if it touches not you, it comes neere no body.

Oth.

I will chop her into messes—cuckold me!

Iag.

O tis foule in her.

Oth.

With mine Officer.

Iag.

That's fouler.

Oth.

Get me some poison Iago, this night I'le not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty vnprouide my minde agen, this night Iago.

Iag.

Doe it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, euen the bed she hath contaminated.

Oth.

Good, good, the iustice of it pleases very good.

Iag.

And for Cassio, let me bee his vndertaker: you shall heare more by midnight.

Oth.
Excellent good:
What Trumpet is that same?

Iag.
Something from Venice sure, tis Lodouico,
Come from the Duke, and see your wife is with him.

Lod.
God saue the worthy Generall.

Oth.
With all my heart sir.

Lod.
The Duke and Senators of Venice greete you.

Oth.
I kisse the instrument of their pleasures.

Des.
And what's the newes good cousen Lodouico?

Iag.
I am very glad to see you Seignior:—welcome to Cypres.

Lod.
I thanke you, how does Leiutenant Cassio?

Iag.
Liues sir.

Des.
Cousen, there's falne betweene him and my Lord,
An vnkind breach, but you shall make all well.

Oth.
Are you sure of that?

Des.
My Lord.

Oth.
This faile you not to doe, as you will.—

Lod.
He did not call, hee's busie in the paper:
Is there diuision betweene thy Lord and Cassio?

Des.
A most vnhappy one, I would doe much
To attone them, for the loue I beare to Cassio.

Oth.
Fire and Brimstone.

Des.
My Lord.

Oth.
Are you wise?

Desd.
What, is he angry?

Lod.
May be the letter mou'd him;
For as I thinke, they doe command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his gouernement.

Desd.
By my troth, I am glad on't.

Oth.
Indeed.

Des.
My Lord.

Oth.
I am glad to see you mad.

Des.
How sweete Othello?

Oth.
Diuell.

Des.
I haue not deseru'd this:

Lod.
My Lord, this would not be beleeu'd in Venice,
Tho I should sweare I saw't: tis very much,
Make her amends, she weepes.

Oth.
O Diuell, Diuell,
If that the earth could teeme with womens teares
Each drop she falls, would proue a Crocadile:

Out of my sight.

Des.
I will not stay to offend you.

Lod.
Truely an obedient Lady:
I doe beseech your Lordship, call her backe.

Oth.
Mistrisse.

Des.
My Lord.

Oth.
What would you with her sir?

Lod.
Who, I my Lord?

Oth.
I, you did wish that I would make her turne:
Sir she can turne, and turne, and yet go on,
And turne againe, and she can weepe sir, weepe;
And shee's obedient, as you say, obedient;
Very obedient, proceed you in your teares,
Concerning this sir: O well painted passion:
I am commanded here:—get you away,
I'le send for you anon:—Sir, I obey the mandat,
And will returne to Venice:—hence, auant,
Cassio shall haue my place; and sir to night
I doe intreate that we may sup together,
You are welcome sir to Cypres,—goates and monkies.

Lod.
Is this the noble Moore, whom our full Senate
Call all in all sufficient? This the noble nature,
Whom passion could not shake? Whose solid vertue,
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance
Could neither graze, nor peirce?

Iag.
He is much changed.

Lod.
Are his wits safe? is he not light of braine?

Iag.
He's that he is, I may not breathe my censure,
What he might be, if as he might, he is not,
I would to heauen he were.

Lod.
What, strike his wife.

Iag.
Faith that was not so well; yet would I knew
That stroake would proue the worst.

Lod.
Is it his vse?
Or did the letters worke vpon his blood.
And new create this fault?

Iag.
Alas, alas.

It is not honesty in me to speake,
What I haue seene and knowne, you shall obserue him,
And his owne courses will denote him so,
That I may saue my speech: doe but goe after,
And marke how he continues.

Lod.
I am sorry that I am deceiu'd in him. Exeunt. Enter Othello and Emillia.

Oth.
You haue seene nothing then.

Em.
Nor euer heard, nor euer did suspect.

Oth.
Yes, and you haue seene Cassio and she together.

Em.
But then I saw no harme, and then I heard
Each sillable that breath made vp betweene 'em.

Oth.
What, did they neuer whisper?

Em.
Neuer, my Lord.

Oth.
Nor send you out o'the way?

Em.
Neuer.

Oth.
To fetch her fan, her mask, her gloues, nor nothing?

Em.
Neuer, my Lord.

Oth.
That's strange.

Em.
I durst my Lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay downe my soule at stake: if you thinke other,
Remoue your thought, it doth abuse your bosome,
If any wretch ha put this in your head,
Let heauens requite it with the Serpents curse,
For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy, the purest of her Sex
Is foule as slander. Exit Emillia.

Oth.
Bid her come hither, goe,
She sayes enough, yet she's a simple bawde,
That cannot say as much, this is a subtle whore,
A closet, locke and key, of villainous secrets,
And yet shee'll kneele and pray, I ha seene, her do't. Enter Desdemona and Emillia.

Des.
My Lord, what is your will?

Oth.
Pray chucke come hither.

Des.
What is your pleasure?

Oth.
Let me see your eyes—looke in my face.

Des.
What horrible fancy's this?

Oth.
Some of your function mistrisse,
Leaue procreants alone, and shut the dore,
Coffe, or cry hem, if any body come,
Your mistery, your mistery: nay dispatch. Exit Em.

Des.
Vpon my knees, what does your speech import?
I vnderstand a fury in your words,
But not the words.

Oth.
Why, what art thou?

Des.
Your wife my Lord, your true and loyall wife.

Oth.
Come, sweare it, dam thy selfe,
Least being like one of heauen, the diuells themselues
Should feare to cease thee, therefore be double dambd,
Sweare thou art honest.

Des.
Heauen doth truely know it.

Oth.
Heauen truely knowes, that thou art false as hell.

Des.
To whom, my Lord, with whom? how am I false?

Oth.
O Desdemona, away, away, away.

Des.
Alas the heauy day, why do you weepe?
Am I the occasion of those teares my Lord?
If haply you my father doe suspect,
An Instrument of this your calling backe,
Lay not your blame on me; if you haue left him,
Why I haue left him too.

Oth.
Had it pleas'd heauen
To try me with affliction, had he ram'd
All kindes of sores, and shames on my bare head,
Steep'd me in pouerty, to the very lips,
Giuen to captiuity, me and my hopes,
I should haue found in some part of my soule
A drop of patience; but alas, to make me
A fixed figure, for the time of scorne,
To point his slow vnmouing fingers at—oh, oh,
Yet could I beare that too, well, very well.
But there: where I haue garner'd vp my heart,
Where either I must liue, or beare no life,

The fountaine, from the which my currant runnes,
Or else dryes vp, to be discarded thence,
Or keepe it as a Cesterne, for foule Toades
To knot and gender in: turne thy complexion there,
Patience thy young and rose-lip'd Cherubin,
I here looke grim as Hell.

Des.
I hope my noble Lord esteemes me honest.

Oth.
O I, as summers flies, are in the shambles,
That quicken euen with blowing:
O thou blacke weede, why art so louely faire?
Thou smell'st so sweete, that the sence akes at thee,
Would thou hadst ne're bin borne.

Des.
Alas, what ignorant sinne haue I committed?

Oth.
Was this faire paper, this most goodly booke,
Made to write whore on?—What, committed?
Heauen stops the nose at it, and the Moone winkes,
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meetes,
Is husht within the hallow mine of earth,
And will not hear't:—what committed,—impudent strumpet.

Des.
By heauen you doe me wrong.

Oth.
Are not you a strumpet?

Des.
No, as I am a Christian:
If to preserue this vessel for my Lord,
From any hated foule vnlawfull touch,
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.

Oth.
What, not a whore?

Des.
No, as I shall be saued. Enter Emillia.

Oth.
Ist possible?

Des.
O heauen forgiuenesse.

Oth.
I cry you mercy,
I tooke you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello: you mistrisse,
That haue the office opposite to S. Peter,
And keepes the gates in hell, I, you, you, you;
We ha done our course; there's money for your paines,
I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsell. Exit.

Em.
Alas, what does this Gentleman conceiue?

How doe you Madam, how doe you my good Lady?

Des.
Faith halfe asleepe.

Em.
Good Madam, what's the matter with my Lord?

Des.
With who?

Em.
Why with my Lord Madam.

Des.
I ha none, doe not talke to me Emillia,
I cannot weepe, nor answer haue I none,
But what should goe by water: preethee to night
Lay on my bed our wedding sheetes, remember,
And call thy husband hither.

Em.
Here is a change indeed. Exit.

Des.
Tis meete I should be vsde so, very well;
How haue I bin behau'd, that he might sticke
The smallest opinion, on my greatest abuse.

Iag.
What is your pleasure Madam, Enter Iago. and Emillia.
How ist with you?

Des.
I cannot tell: those that doe teach young babes
Doe it with gentle meanes, and easie taskes,
He might ha chid me so, for in good faith,
I am a child at chiding.

Iag.
What is the matter Lady?

Em.
Alas, Iago, my Lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Throwne such despite, and heauy termes vpon her,
As true hearts cannot beare.

Des.
Am I that name Iago?

Iag.
What name faire Lady?

Des.
Such as she sayes my Lord did say I was?

Em.
He call'd her whore: A begger in his drinke,
Could not haue layed such tearmes vpon his Callot.

Iag.
Why did he so?

Des.
I doe not know, I am sure I am none such.

Iag.
Doe not weepe, doe not weepe: alas the day.

Em.
Has she forsooke so many noble matches,
Her Father, and her Countrey, all her friends,
To be cald whore? would it not make one weepe?

Des.
It is my wretched fortune.

Iag.
Beshrew him for it; how comes this tricke vpon him?

Des.
Nay, heauen doth know.

Em.
I will be hang'd, if some eternall villaine,
Some busie and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging, cousening slaue, to get some office,
Haue not deuisde this slander, I'le be hang'd else.

Iag.
Fie, there is no such man, it is impossible.

Des.
If any such there be, heauen pardon him.

Em.
A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones:
Why should he call her whore? who keepes her company?
What place, what time, what for me, what likelihood?
The Moore's abus'd by some outragious knaue:
Some base notorious knaue, some scuruy fellow,
O heauen, that such companions thoudst vnfold,
And put in euery honest hand a whip,
To lash the rascall naked through the world,
Euen from the East to the West.

Iag.
Speake within dores.

Em.
O fie vpon him; some such squire he was,
That turnd your wit, the seamy side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moore.

Iag.
You are a foole, goe to.

Des.
O Good Iago,
VVhat shall I doe to win my Lord againe?
Good friend goe to him, for by this light of heauen,
I know not how I lost him.

Iag.
I pray you be content, tis but his humour,
The businesse of the State does him offence,
And he does chide with you.

Des.
If t'were no other.

Iag.
Tis but so, I warrant you,
Harke how these Instruments summon you to supper,
And the great Messengers of Venice stay,
Goe in, and weepe not, all things shall be well. Exit women.
How now Roderigo? Enter Roderigo.

Rod.
I doe not finde that thou dealst iustly with me.

Iag.
VVhat in the contrary?

Rod.
Euery day, thou dofftst me, with some deuise Iago;

And rather, as it seemes to me, thou keepest from me,
All conueniency, then suppliest me, with the least
Aduantage of hope: I will indeed no longer indure it,
Nor am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already
I haue foolishly sufferd.

Iag.
Will you heare me Roderigo?

Rod.
Faith I haue heard too much, for your words,
And performance are no kin together.

Iag.
You charge me most vniustly.

Rod.

I haue wasted my selfe out of meanes: the Iewels you haue had from me, to deliuer to Desdemona, would halfe haue corrupted a Votarist: you haue told me she has receiu'd em, and return'd mee expectation, and comforts, of suddaine respect, and acquittance, but I finde none.

Iag.

Well, goe to, very good.

Rod.

Very well, goe to, I cannot goe to man, it is not very well, by this hand, I say tis very scuruy, and begin to finde my selfe fopt in it.

Iag.

Very well.

Rod.

I say it is not very well: I will make my selfe knowne to Desdemona, if she will returne me my Iewels, I will giue ouer my suite, and repent my vnlawfull sollicitation, if not, assure your selfe I'le seeke satisfaction of you.

Iag.

You haue said now.

Rod.

I, and I haue said nothing, but what I protest entendment of doing.

Iag.

Why now I see there's mettle in thee, and euen from this time doe build on thee, a better opinion then euer before, giue me thy hand Roderigo: Thou hast taken against me a most iust conception, but yet I protest, I haue delt most directly in thy affaires.

Rod.

It hath not appeared.

Iag.

I grant indeed it hath not appear'd, and your suspition is not without wit and iudgement: But Roderigo, if thou hast that within thee indeed, which I haue greater reason to beleeue now, then euer, I meane purpose, courage, and valour, this night shew it, if thou the next night following enioyest not Desdemona, take mee from this world with treachery, and deuise engines for my life.

Rod.
Well, is it within reason and compasse?

Iag.
Sir, there is especiall command come from Venice,
To depute Cassio in Othello's place.

Rod.
Is that true? why then Othello and Desdemona
Returne againe to Venice.

Iag.
O no, he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him
The faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode be linger'd
Here by some accident, wherein none can be so
determinate, as the remouing of Cassio.

Rod.
How doe you meane remouing of him?

Iag.
Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's place,
Knocking out his braines.

Rod.
And that you would haue me to doe.

Iag.

I, and if you dare doe your selfe a profit, and right, hee sups to night with a harlot, and thither will I goe to him;—he knowes not yet of his honourable fortune: if you will watch his going thence, which I will fashion to fall out betweene twelue and one, you may take him at your pleasure: I will be neere to second your attempt, and hee shall fall betweene vs: come, stand not amaz'd at it, but goe along with mee, I will shew you such a necessity in his death, that you shall thinke your selfe bound to put it on him. It is now high supper time, and the night growes to wast: about it.

Rod.

I will heare further reason for this

Iag.

And you shall be satisfied.