Oth.
You have seen nothing then?

Emi.
Nor ever heard; nor ever did suspect.

Oth.
Yes, you ^note have seen Cassio and she together ^note.

Emi.
But then I saw no harm; and then I heard
Each syllable, that breath made up between them.

Oth.
What, did they never whisper?

Emi.
Never, my lord.

Oth.
Nor send you out o'the way?

Emi.
Never.

Oth.
To fetch her fan, her gloves ^note, her mask, nor nothing?

Emi.
Never, my lord.

Oth.
That's strange.

Emi.
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 ^note requite ^note it with the serpent's curse!
For, if she be not honest, chast, and true,
There's no man happy; the purest of their wives ^note
Is foul as slander.

Oth.
Bid her come hither; go.— [Exit Emi.
She says enough;—yet she's a simple bawd,
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
A closet lock and key of villanous secrets:
And yet she'll kneel, and pray; I have seen ^note her do't. Re-enter Emilia, with Desdemona.

Des.
My lord, what is your will?

Oth.
Pray, chuck ^note, come hither.

Des.
What is your pleasure?

Oth.
Let me see your eyes;
Look in my face.

Des.
What horrible fancy's this?

Oth.
Some of your function, mistress, [to Emilia.
Leave procreants alone, and shut the door;
Cough, or cry—hem, if any body come:
Your mystery, your mystery; nay ^note, dispatch. [Exit Emilia.

Des.
Upon my † knees ^note, what doth your speech import?

I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words ^note.

Oth.
Why, what art thou?

Des.
Your wife, my lord;
Your true and loyal wife.

Oth.
Come, swear it, damn thyself;
Lest ^note, 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?

Oth.
O Desdemona ^note!—away! away! away!

Des.
Alas, the heavy ^note day!—Why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these ^note 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 ^note him,
Why ^note, I have lost ^note him too.

Oth.
Had it pleas'd heaven,
To try me with affliction; had he rain'd ^note
All kind ^note of sores, and shames, on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;
Given to ^note captivity me and my utmost ^note hopes;
I should have found in some part of ^note my soul
A drop of patience: but (alas!) to make me
A fixed ^note figure,14Q1517 for the hand of ^note scorn
To point his slow unmoving ^note finger at,—
O! o! ^note
Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life;

The fountain ^note from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads
To knot and gender in!—turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young ^note and rose-lip'd cherubin,
Ay, there ^note, look grim as hell.

Des.
I hope, my noble ^note lord esteems me honest.

Oth.
O, ay; as summer ^note-flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed ^note,
Who art ^note so lovely fair, and smell'st ^note so sweet,
That the sense akes ^note at thee,—'Would, thou hadst ne'er been born!

Des.
Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

Oth.
Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write whore upon ^note? What, what, committed!
Committed! O thou publick commoner, ^note
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Should I ^note but speak thy deeds; What, 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't: Committed! what, committed!
Impudent strumpet! ^note

Des.
By heaven, you do me wrong.

Oth.
Are not you a strumpet?

Des.
No, as I am a christian:
If to preserve this vessel for my lord,
From any other foul ^note unlawful touch,
Be—not to be a strumpet, I am none.

Oth.
What, not a whore?

Des.
No, as I shall be sav'd.

Oth.
Is't possible?

Des.
O, heaven forgive ^note us!

Oth.
I cry you mercy, then ^note;
I took you for that cunning ^note whore of Venice,
That marry'd with Othello.—You, mistress, there! Re-enter Emilia.
That have the office opposite to saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell ^note; You, you; ay, you! ^note
We have done our course; there's money for your pains;
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel. [Exit Othello.

Emi.
Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?—
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?

Des.
'Faith, half asleep.

Emi.
Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?

Des.
With who? ^note

Emi.
With ^note my lord, madam?

Des.
Who is thy lord? ^note

Emi.
He that is yours, sweet lady.

Des.
I have none: Do not talk to me, Emilia;
I cannot weep; nor answer ^note have I none,
But what should go by water. Pr'ythee, to-night
Lay on my bed my wedding ^note sheets, remember;
And call thy husband hither.

Emi.
Here is a change, indeed! [Exit.

Des.
'Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet ^note
How have I been behav'd, that he might stick
The small'st opinion on my least misuse ^note? Re-enter Emilia, with Iago.

Iag.
What is your pleasure, madam? How is't with you?

Des.
I cannot tell. Those, that do teach young babes ^note,
Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks:
He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,

I am a child to chiding ^note.

Iag.
What is the matter, lady?

Emi.
Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
As true hearts cannot bear. ^note

Des.
Am I that name, Iago?

Iag.
What name, fair lady?

Des.
Such as, she says, my ^note lord did say I was.

Emi.
He call'd her, whore; a beggar, in his drink,
Could not have lay'd such terms ^note upon his callet.

Iag.
Why did he so?

Des.
I do not know; I am sure, I am none such.

Iag.
Do not weep, do not weep; Alas, the day!

Emi.
Has ^note she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father, and her country, and her ^note friends,
To be call'd—whore? would it not make one weep?

Des.
It is my wretched fortune.

Iag.
Beshrew him for't ^note!
How comes this trick upon him?

Des.
Nay, heaven doth know.

Emi.
I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging coz'ning slave, to get some office,
Has not ^note devis'd this slander; I'll ^note be hang'd else.

Iag.
Fie! there is no such man; it is impossible.

Des.
If any such there be ^note, heaven pardon him!

Emi.
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 villanous ^note knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow:—
O, heaven ^note, that such companion ^note thou'dst unfold ^note;

And put in every honest hand a whip,
To lash the rascal naked through the world,
Even from the east to the west!

Iag.
Speak within door ^note.

Emi.
O, fie upon him ^note! some such squire he was,
That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

Iag.
You are a fool; go to.

Des.
Alas, Iago ^note,
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 † kneel: ^note—
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Either in discourse of thought, 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 can't 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.

Iag.
I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour;
The business of the state does him offence,
And he does chide with you. ^note

Des.
If 'twere no other,—

Iag.
It is ^note but so, I warrant. [Trumpets.
Hark, how these instruments summon to ^note supper!
The messenger of Venice stays ^note the meat:

Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well. [Exeunt Des. and Emi. Enter Roderigo.
How now, Roderigo?

Rod.

I do not find, that thou deal'st justly with me.

Iag.

What in the contrary?

Rod.

Every day thou doft'st ^{note note} me with some devise, Iago; and rather (as it seems to me now) keepest ^note 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 suffer'd.

Iag.

Will you hear me, Roderigo?

Rod.

Sir, I ^note have heard too much; and your ^note words, and performances ^note, are no kin together.

Iag.

You charge me most unjustly.

Rod.

With nought but truth ^note. I have ^note wasted myself out of means ^note. The jewels you have had from me, to deliver to Desdemona ^note, would half have corrupted a votarist: You have told me—she hath receiv'd them, and return'd me expectations ^note and comforts of sudden respect and acquittance ^note; but I find none.

Iag.

Well; go to; very well ^note.

Rod.

Very well? go to? I can not go to, man; nor 'tis ^note not very well: Nay, I ^note think it is scurvy; and begin to find myself fob'd ^note in it.

Iag.

Very well.

Rod.

I tell you, 'tis ^note not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona: if she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit, and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself, I will ^note; seek satisfaction of you.

Iag.

You have said ^note now.

Rod.

Ay, and said nothing, but what I protest intendment of doing.

Iag.

Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; and, even from this instant, do ^note build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: Thou hast taken against me a most just exception ^note; but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair ^note.

Rod.

It hath not appear'd.

Iag.

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 ^note indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever,—I mean, purpose, courage, and valour,—this night shew it: if thou the next night following enjoy ^note not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery, and devise engines for my life.

Rod.

Well, what is it ^note? is it within reason, and compass?

Iag.

Sir, there is especial commission come ^note from Venice, to depute Cassio in Othello's place.

Rod.

Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice.

Iag.

O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and taketh ^note away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be linger'd here by some accident; wherein ^note none can be so determinate, as the removing of Cassio.

Rod.

How do you mean—removing him ^note?

Iag.

Why, by making ^note him uncapable of Othello's place; knocking out his brains.

Rod.

And that you would have me to do.

Iag.

Ay; if ^note you dare do yourself a profit, and a right.

He sups to-night with a harlotry ^note, and thither will I go to him;—he knows not yet of his honourable fortune: if you will watch his going thence, which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, you may take 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.

Iag.

And you shall be satisfy'd.