Othello

Select or Print the text

Original text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter Othello, and Iago.

Iago.
Will you thinke so?

Oth.
Thinke so, Iago?

Iago.
What,
to kisse in priuate?

Oth.
An vnauthoriz'd kisse?

Iago.
Or to be naked with her Friend in bed,
An houre, or more, not meaning any harme?

Oth.
Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme?
It is hypocrisie against the Diuell:
They that meane vertuously, and yet do so,
The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen.

Iago.
If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip:
But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe.

Oth.
What then?

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

Oth.
She is Protectresse of her honor too:
May she giue that?

Iago.
Her honor is an Essence that's not seene,
They haue it very oft, that haue it not.
But for the Handkerchiefe.

Othe.
By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it:
Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie,
As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house:
Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe.

Iago.
I: what of that?

Othe.
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 suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris,
Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse
But they must blab.)

Oth.
Hath he said any thing?

Iago.
He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd,
No more then he'le vn-sweare.

Oth.
What hath he said?

Iago.
Why, that he did: I know not what he did.

Othe.
What? What?

Iago.
Lye.

Oth.
With her?

Iago.
With her? On her: what you will.

Othe.
Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her,
when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome:
Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To
confesse, and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd,
and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not
inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some
Iustruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish)
Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse?
Handkerchiefe? O diuell.
Falls in a Traunce.

Iago.
Worke on,
My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught,
And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus,
(All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord?
My Lord, I say: Othello.
Enter Cassio.
How now Cassio?

Cas.
What's the matter?

Iago.
My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie,
This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday.

Cas.
Rub him about the Temples.

Iago.
The Lethargie must haue his quyet course:
If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by
Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres:
Do 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?

Othe.
Dost thou mocke me?

Iago.
I mocke you not, by Heauen:
Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man.

Othe.
A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast.

Iago.
Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty,
And many a ciuill Monster.

Othe.
Did he confesse it?

Iago.
Good Sir, be a man:
Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd
May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue,
That nightly lye in those vnproper beds,
Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better.
Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch;
And to suppose her chast. No, let me know,
And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe.

Oth.
Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine.

Iago.
Stand you a while apart,
Confine your selfe but in a patient List,
Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe
(A passion most resulting such a man)
Cassio came hither. I shifted him away,
And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie,
Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me,
The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe,
And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, 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 ago, and when
He hath, and is againe to cope your wife.
I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience,
Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene,
And nothing of a man.

Othe.
Do'st thou heare, Iago,
I will be found most cunning in my Patience:
But (do'st thou heare) most bloody.

Iago.
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
Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature
That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague
To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one)
He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine
From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes.
Enter Cassio.
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad:
And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue
Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours
Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?

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

Iago.
Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't:
Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre,
How quickely should you speed?

Cas.
Alas poore Caitiffe.

Oth.
Looke how he laughes already.

Iago.
I neuer knew woman loue man so.

Cas.
Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me.

Oth.
Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out.

Iago.
Do you heare Cassio?

Oth.
Now he importunes him / To tell it o're:
go too, well said, well said.

Iago.
She giues it out, that you shall marry her.
Do you intend it?

Cas.
Ha, ha, ha.

Oth.
Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph?

Cas.
I marry. What? A customer; prythee beare / Some
Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it / So vnwholesome. Ha,
ha, ha.

Oth.
So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes.

Iago.
Why the cry goes, that you marry her.

Cas.
Prythee say true.

Iago.
I am a very Villaine else.

Oth.
Haue you scoar'd me? Well.

Cas.
This is the Monkeys owne giuing out: / She is
perswaded I will marry her / Out of her owne loue &
flattery, not out of my promise.

Oth.
Iago becomes me: now he begins the
story.

Cassio.
She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery
place. I was the other day talking on the Sea-banke with
certaine Venetians, and thither comes the Bauble, and
falls me thus about my neck.

Oth
Crying oh deere Cassio, as it were: his
iesture imports it.

Cassio.
So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me: / So shakes,
and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha.

Oth.
Now he tells how she pluckt him to
my Chamber: oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that
dogge, I shall throw it to.

Cassio.
Well, I must leaue her companie.

Iago.
Before me: looke where she comes.

Cas.
'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one?
Enter Bianca.
What do you meane by this haunting of me?

Bian.
Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what did
you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue me euen
now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take out the
worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should finde it in
your Chamber, and know not who left it there. This is
some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke?
There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had
it, Ile take out no worke on't.

Cassio.
How now, my sweete Bianca? How now? How now?

Othe.
By Heauen, that should be my
Handkerchiefe.

Bian.
If you'le come to supper to night you may, if you
will not, come when you are next prepar'd for.
Exit

Iago.
After her: after her.

Cas.
I must, shee'l rayle in the streets else.

Iago.
Will you sup there?

Cassio.
Yes, I intend so.

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

Cas.
Prythee come: will you?

Iago.
Go too: say no more.

Oth.
How shall I murther him, Iago.

Iago.
Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice?

Oth.
Oh, Iago.

Iago.
And did you see the Handkerchiefe?

Oth.
Was that mine?

Iago.
Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the
foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him, and he hath
giu'n it his whore.

Oth.
I would haue him nine yeeres a killing: / A fine
woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman?

Iago.
Nay, you must forget that.

Othello.
I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd
to night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to
stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world
hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an
Emperours side, and command him Taskes.

Iago.
Nay, that's not your way.

Othe.
Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate
with her Needle: an admirable Musitian. Oh she will sing
the Sauagenesse out of a Beare: of so high and plenteous
wit, and inuention?

Iago.
She's the worse for all this.

Othe.
Oh, a thousand, a thousand times: / And then of
so gentle a condition?

Iago.
I too gentle.

Othe.
Nay that's certaine: / But yet the pitty of it, Iago:
oh Iago, the pitty of it Iago.

Iago.
If you are so fond ouer her iniquitie: giue her pattent
to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere
no body.

Oth.
I will chop her into Messes: Cuckold me?

Iago.
Oh, 'tis foule in her.

Oth.
With mine Officer?

Iago.
That's fouler.

Othe.
Get me some poyson, Iago, this night. Ile not
expostulate with her: least her body and beautie vnprouide
my mind againe: this night Iago.

Iago.
Do it not with poyson, strangle her in her bed, / Euen
the bed she hath contaminated.

Oth.
Good, good: / The Iustice of it pleases: very
good.

Iago.
And for Cassio, let me be his vndertaker: / You shall
heare more by midnight.

Othe.
Excellent good:
What Trumpet is that same?

Iago.
I warrant something from Venice,
Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants.
'Tis Lodouico, this,
comes from the Duke. / See, your wife's with him.

Lodo.
Saue you worthy Generall.

Othe.
With all my heart Sir.

Lod.
The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you.

Othe.
I kisse the Instrument of their pleasures.

Des.
And what's the newes, good cozen Lodouico?

Iago.
I am very glad to see you Signior:
Welcome to Cyprus.

Lod.
I thanke you: how do's Lieutenant Cassio?

Iago.
Liues Sir,

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

Othe.
Are you sure of that?

Des.
My Lord?

Othe.
This faile you not to do, as you will---

Lod.
He did not call: he's busie in the paper,
Is there deuision 'twixt my Lord, and Cassio?

Des.
A most vnhappy one: I would do much
T'attone them, for the loue I beare to Cassio.

Oth.
Fire, and brimestone.

Des.
My Lord.

Oth.
Are you wise?

Des.
What is he angrie?

Lod.
May be th Letter mou'd him.
For as I thinke, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his Gouernment.

Des.
Trust me, I am glad on't.

Othe.
Indeed?

Des.
My Lord?

Othe.
I am glad to see you mad.

Des.
Why, sweete Othello?

Othe.
Diuell.

Des.
I haue not deseru'd this.

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

Othe.
Oh diuell, diuell:
If that the Earth could teeme with womans teares,
Each drop she falls, would proue a Crocodile:
Out of my sight.

Des.
I will not stay to offend you.

Lod.
Truely obedient Lady:
I do beseech your Lordship call her backe.

Othe.
Mistris.

Des.
My Lord.

Othe.
What would you with her, Sir?

Lod.
Who I, my Lord?

Othe.
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 she's obedient: as you say obedient.
Very obedient: proceed you in your teares.
Concerning this Sir, (oh well-painted passion)
I am commanded home: get you away:
Ile send for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate,
And will returne to Venice. Hence, auaunt:
Cassio shall haue my Place. And Sir, to night
I do entreat, that we may sup together.
You are welcome Sir to Cyprus. / Goates, and Monkeys.
Exit.

Lod.
Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full Senate
Call all in all sufficient? Is this the Nature
Whom Passion could not shake? Whose solid vertue
The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance
Could neither graze, nor pierce?

Iago.
He is much chang'd.

Lod.
Are his wits safe? Is he not light of Braine?

Iago.
He's that he is: I may not breath my censure.
What he might be: if what he might, he is not,
I would to heauen he were.

Lod.
What? Strike his wife?

Iago.
'Faith that was not so well: yet would I knew
That stroke would proue the worst.

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

Iago.
Alas, alas:
It is not honestie in me to speake
What I haue seene, and knowne. You shall obserue him,
And his owne courses will deonte him so,
That I may saue my speech: do but go after
And marke how he continues.

Lod.
I am sorry that I am deceiu'd in him.
Original text
Act IV, Scene II
Enter Othello, and Amilia.

Othe.
You haue seene nothing then?

Amil.
Nor euer heard: nor euer did suspect.

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

Ami.
But then I saw no harme: and then I heard,
Each syllable that breath made vp betweene them.

Othe.
What? Did they neuer whisper?

Amil.
Neuer my Lord.

Othe.
Nor send you out o'th'way?

Amil.
Neuer.

Othe.
To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor no thing?

Amil.
Neuer my Lord.

Othe:
That's strange.

Amil.
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 haue put this in your head,
Let Heauen requit it with the Serpents curse,
For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy. The purest of their Wiues
Is foule as Slander.

Othe.
Bid her come hither: go.
Exit Amilia.
She saies enough: yet she's a simple Baud
That cannot say as much. This is a subtile Whore:
A Closset Locke and Key of Villanous Secrets,
And yet she'le kneele, and pray: I haue seene her do't.
Enter Desdemona, and Amilia.

Des.
My Lord, what is your will?

Othe.
Pray you Chucke come hither.

Des.
What is your pleasure?

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

Des.
What horrible Fancie's this?

Othe.

Some of your Function Mistris:
Leaue Procreants alone, and shut the doore:
Cough, or cry hem; if any bodycome:
Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.
Exit Ami.

Des.
Vpon my knee, what doth your speech import?
I vnderstand a Fury in your words.

Othe.
Why? What art thou?

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

Othello.
Come sweare it: damne thy selfe,
least being like one of Heauen, the diuells themselues
should feare to ceaze thee. Therefore be double damn'd:
sweare thou art honest.

Des.
Heauen doth truely know it.

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

Des.
To whom my Lord? / With whom? How am I false?

Othe.
Ah Desdemon, away, away, away.

Des.
Alas the heauy day: why do you weepe?
Am I the motiue of these teares my Lord?
If happely you my Father do suspect,
An Instrument of this your calling backe,
Lay not your blame on me: if you haue lost him,
I haue lost him too.

Othe.
Had it pleas'd Heauen,
To try me with Affliction, had they rain'd
All kind of Sores, and Shames on my bare-head:
Steep'd me in pouertie to the very lippes.
Giuen to Captiuitie, me, and my vtmost hopes,
I should haue found in some place of my Soule
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne,
To point his slow, and mouing finger at.
Yet could I beare that too, well, very well:
But there where I haue garnerd vp my heart,
Where either I must liue, or beare no life,
The Fountaine from the which my currant runnes,
Or else dries vp: to be discarded thence,
Or keepe it as a Cesterne, for foule Toades
To knot and gender in. Turne thy complexion there:
Patience, thou young and Rose-lip'd Cherubin,
I heere looke grim as hell.

Des.
I hope my Noble Lord esteemes me honest.

Othe.
Oh I, as Sommer Flyes are in the Shambles,
That quicken euen with blowing. Oh thou weed:
Who art so louely faire, and smell'st so sweete,
That the Sense akes at thee, / Would thou had'st neuer bin borne.

Des.
Alas, what ignorant sin haue I committed?

Othe.
Was this faire Paper? This most goodly Booke
Made to write Whore vpon? What commited,
Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner,
I should make very Forges of my cheekes,
That would to Cynders burne vp Modestie,
Did I but speake thy deedes. What commited?
Heauen stoppes the Nose at it, and the Moone winks:
The baudy winde that kisses all it meetes,
Is hush'd within the hollow Myne of Earth
And will not hear't. What commited?

Des.
By Heauen you do me wrong.

Othe.
Are not you a Strumpet?

Des.
No, as I am a Christian.
If to preserue this vessell for my Lord,
From any other foule vnlawfull touch
Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none.

Othe.
What, not a Whore?

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

Othe.
Is't possible?

Des.
Oh Heauen forgiue vs.

Othe.
I cry you mercy then.
I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice,
That married with Othello. You Mistris,
That haue the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keepes the gate of hell.
Enter Amilia.
You, you: I you.
We haue done our course: there's money for your paines:
I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsaile.
Exit.

Amil.
Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceiue?
How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady?

Des.
Faith, halfe a sleepe.

Ami.
Good Madam, / What's the matter with my Lord?

Des.
With who?

Amil.
Why, with my Lord, Madam?

Des.
Who is thy Lord?

Amil.
He that is yours, sweet Lady.

Des.
I haue none: do not talke to me, Amilia,
I cannot weepe: nor answeres haue I none,
But what should go by water. Prythee to night,
Lay on my bed my wedding sheetes, remember,
And call thy husband hither.

Amil.
Heere's a change indeed.
Exit.

Des.
'Tis meete I should be vs'd so: very meete.
How haue I bin behau'd, that he might sticke
The small'st opinion on my least misvse?
Enter Iago, and Amilia.

Iago.
What is your pleasure Madam? How is't with you?

Des.
I cannot tell: those that do teach yong Babes
Do it with gentle meanes, and easie taskes.
He might haue chid me so: for in good faith
I am a Child to chiding.

Iago.
What is the matter Lady?

Amil.
Alas (Iago) my Lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Throwne such dispight, and heauy termes vpon her
That true hearts cannot beare it.

Des.
Am I that name, Iago?

Iago.
What name (faire Lady?)

Des.
Such as she said my Lord did say I was.

Amil.
He call'd her whore: a Begger in his drinke:
Could not haue laid such termes vpon his Callet.

Iago.
Why did he so?

Des.
I do not know: I am sure I am none such.

Iago.
Do not weepe, do not weepe: alas the day.

Amil.
Hath she forsooke so many Noble Matches?
Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends?
To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weepe?

Des.
It is my wretched Fortune.

Iago.
Beshrew him for't:
How comes this Tricke vpon him?

Des.
Nay, Heauen doth know.

Ami.
I will be hang'd, if some eternall Villaine,
Some busie and insinuating Rogue,
Some cogging, cozening Slaue, to get some Office,
Haue not deuis'd this Slander: I will be hang'd else.

Iago.
Fie, there is no such man: it is impossible.

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

Amil.
A halter pardon him: / And hell gnaw his bones.
Why should he call her Whore? / Who keepes her companie?
What Place? What Time? / What Forme? What liklyhood?
The Moore's abus'd by some most villanous Knaue,
Some base notorious Knaue, some scuruy Fellow.
Oh Heauens, that such companions thou'd'st vnfold,
And put in euery honest hand a whip
To lash the Rascalls naked through the world,
Euen from the East to th'West.

Iago.
Speake within doore.

Amil.
Oh fie vpon them: some such Squire he was
That turn'd your wit, the seamy-side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moore.

Iago.
You are a Foole: go too.

Des.
Alas Iago,
What shall I do to win my Lord againe?
Good Friend, go to him: for by this light of Heauen,
I know not how I lost him. Heere I kneele:
If ere my will did trespasse 'gainst his Loue,
Either in discourse of thought, or actuall deed,
Or that mine Eyes, mine Eares, or any Sence
Delighted them: or any other Forme.
Or that I do not yet, and euer did,
And euer will, (though he do shake me off
To beggerly diuorcement) Loue him deerely,
Comfort forsweare me. Vnkindnesse may do much,
And his vnkindnesse may defeat my life,
But neuer taynt my Loue. I cannot say Whore,
It do's abhorre me now I speake the word,
To do the Act, that might the addition earne,
Not the worlds Masse of vanitie could make me.

Iago.
I pray you be content: 'tis but his humour:
The businesse of the State do's him offence.

Des.
If 'twere no other.

Iago.
It is but so, I warrant,
Hearke how these Instruments summon to supper:
The Messengers of Venice staies the meate,
Go in, and weepe not: all things shall be well.
Exeunt Desdemona and Amilia.
Enter Rodorigo.
How now Rodorigo?

Rod.
I do not finde / That thou deal'st iustly with
me.

Iago.
What in the contrarie?

Rodori.
Euery day thou dafts me with some deuise
Iago, and rather, as it seemes to me now, keep'st from me
all conueniencie, then suppliest me with the least aduantage
of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor
am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already I
haue foolishly suffred.

Iago.
Will you heare me Rodorigo?

Rodori.
I haue heard too much: and your words
and / Performances are no kin together.

Iago.
You charge me most vniustly.

Rodo.
With naught but truth: I haue wasted my selfe
out of my meanes. The Iewels you haue had from me to
deliuer Desdemona, would halfe haue corrupted a
Votarist. You haue told me she hath receiu'd them,
and return'd me expectations and comforts of sodaine respect,
and acquaintance, but I finde none.

Iago.
Well, go too: very well.

Rod.
Very well, go too: I cannot go too, (man) nor tis
not very well. Nay I think it is scuruy: and begin to
finde my selfe fopt in it.

Iago.
Very well.

Rodor.
I tell you, 'tis not very well: I will make my selfe
knowne to Desdemona. If she will returne me my Iewels,
I will giue ouer my Suit, and repent my vnlawfull solicitation.
If not, assure your selfe, I will seeke satisfaction of
you.

Iago.
You haue said now.

Rodo.
I: and said nothing but what I protest
intendment of doing.

Iago.
Why, now I see there's mettle in thee: and euen from
this instant do build on thee a better opinion then euer
before: giue me thy hand Rodorigo. Thou hast taken
against me a most iust exception: but yet I protest I haue
dealt most directly in thy Affaire.

Rod.
It hath not appeer'd.

Iago.
I grant indeed it hath not appeer'd: and your suspition
is not without wit and iudgement. But Rodorigo,
if thou hast that in 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 enioy not Desdemona, take me from
this world with Treacherie, and deuise Engines for my life.

Rod.
Well: what is it? Is it within, reason and
compasse?

Iago.
Sir, there is especiall Commission come from Venice
to depute Cassio in Othello's place.

Rod.
Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona
returne againe to Venice.

Iago.
Oh no: he goes into Mauritania and taketh away with
him the faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode be lingred
heere by some accident. Wherein none can be so determinate,
as the remouing of Cassio.

Rod.
How do you meane remouing him?

Iago.
Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's place:
knocking out his braines.

Rod.
And that you would haue me to do.

Iago.
I: if you dare do your selfe a profit, and a right. He
sups to night with a Harlotry: and thither will I go 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 he shall fall betweene vs. Come, stand not amaz'd
at it, but go along with me: I will shew you such a
necessitie 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.

Iago.
And you shalbe satisfi'd.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, Amilia, and Atendants.

Lod.
I do beseech you Sir, trouble your selfe no further.

Oth.
Oh pardon me: 'twill do me good to walke.

Lodoui.
Madam, good night: I humbly thanke your Ladyship.

Des.
Your Honour is most welcome.

Oth.
Will you walke Sir?
Oh Desdemona.

Des.
My Lord.

Othello
Get you to bed on th'instant, I will be return'd
forthwith: dismisse your Attendant there: look't be done.

Des.
I will my Lord.
Exit.

Am.
How goes it now? He lookes gentler then he did.

Des.
He saies he will returne incontinent,
And hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bid me to dismisse you.

Ami.
Dismisse me?

Des.
It was his bidding: therefore good Amilia,
Giue me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.

Amil.
I, would you had neuer seene him.

Des.
So would not I: my loue doth so approue him,
That euen his stubbornesse, his checks, his frownes,
(Prythee vn-pin me) haue grace and fauour.

Ami.
I haue laid those Sheetes you bad me on the bed.

Des.
All's one: good Father, how foolish are our minds?
If I do die before, prythee shrow'd me
In one of these same Sheetes.

Amil.
Come, come: you talke.

Des.
My Mother had a Maid call'd Barbarie,
She was in loue: and he she lou'd prou'd mad,
And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough,
An old thing 'twas: but it express'd her Fortune,
And she dy'd singing it. That Song to night,
Will not go from my mind: I haue much to do,
But to go hang my head all at one side
And sing it like poore Brabarie: prythee dispatch.

Ami.
Shall I go fetch your Night-gowne?

Des.
No, vn-pin me here,
This Lodouico is a proper man.

Amil.
A very handsome man.

Des.
He speakes well.

Amil.
I know a Lady in Venice would haue walk'd barefoot
to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.

Des.
The poore Soule sat singing, by a Sicamour tree.
Sing all a greene Willough:
Her hand on her bosome her head on her knee,
Sing Willough, Willough, Wtllough.
The fresh Streames ran by her, and murmur'd her moanes
Sing Willough, &c.
Her salt teares fell from her, and softned the stones,
Sing Willough, &c.
(Lay by these)

Willough, Willough.

(Prythee high thee: he'le come anon)

Sing all a greene Willough must be my Garland.
Let no body blame him, his scorne I approue.

(Nay that's not next. Harke, who is't that knocks?

Amil.
It's the wind.

Des.

I call'd my Loue false Loue: but what said he then?
Sing Willough, &c.
If I court mo women, you'le couch with mo men.

So get thee gone, good night: mine eyes do itch:
Doth that boade weeping?

Amil,
'Tis neyther heere, nor there.

Des.
I haue heard it said so. O these Men, these men!
Do'st thou in conscience thinke (tell me Amilia)
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such grosse kinde?

Amil.
There be some such, no question.

Des.
Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world?

Amil.
Why, would not you?

Des.
No, by this Heauenly light.

Amil.
Nor I neither, by this Heauenly light: / I might doo't
as well i'th'darke.

Des.
Would'st thou do such a deed for al the
world?

Amil.
The world's a huge thing: / It is a great price, for a
small vice.

Des.
Introth, I thinke thou would'st not.

Amil.
Introth I thinke I should, and vndoo't when I had
done. Marry, I would not doe such a thing for a ioynt
Ring, nor for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes, Petticoats,
nor Caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for all the whole
world: why, who would not make her husband a
Cuckold, to make him a Monarch? I should venture
Purgatory for't.

Des.
Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong / For
the whole world.

Amil.
Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th'world; and
hauing the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your
owne world, and you might quickly make it right.

Des.
I do not thinke there is any such woman.

Amil.
Yes, a dozen: and as many to'th'vantage, as would
store the world they plaid for.
But I do thinke it is their Husbands faults
If Wiues do fall: (Say, that they slacke their duties,
And powre our Treasures into forraigne laps;
Or else breake out in peeuish Iealousies,
Throwing restraint vpon vs: Or say they strike vs,
Or scant our former hauing in despight)
Why we haue galles: and though we haue some Grace,
Yet haue we some Reuenge. Let Husbands know,
Their wiues haue sense like them: They see, and smell,
And haue their Palats both for sweet, and sowre,
As Husbands haue. What is it that they do,
When they change vs for others? Is it Sport?
I thinke it is: and doth Affection breed it?
I thinke it doth. Is't Frailty that thus erres?
It is so too. And haue not we Affections?
Desires for Sport? and Frailty, as men haue?
Then let them vse vs well: else let them know,
The illes we do, their illes instruct vs so.

Des.
Good night, good night: / Heauen me such vses send,
Not to picke bad, from bad; but by bad, mend.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter Othello and Iago

IAGO
Will you think so?

OTHELLO
Think so, Iago?

IAGO
What!
To kiss in private?

OTHELLO
An unauthorized kiss.

IAGO
Or to be naked with her friend in bed
An hour or more, not meaning any harm?

OTHELLO
Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm?
It is hypocrisy against the devil.
They that mean virtuously and yet do so,
The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.

IAGO
So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip.
But if I give my wife a handkerchief –

OTHELLO
What then?

IAGO
Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord, and being hers,
She may, I think, bestow't on any man.

OTHELLO
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 –

OTHELLO
By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it!
Thou said'st – O, it comes o'er my memory
As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
Boding to all! – he had my handkerchief.

IAGO
Ay, what of that?

OTHELLO
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
Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose
But they must blab –

OTHELLO
Hath he said anything?

IAGO
He hath, my lord; but be you well assured,
No more than he'll unswear.

OTHELLO
What hath he said?

IAGO
Faith, that he did – I know not what he did.

OTHELLO
What? What?

IAGO
Lie –

OTHELLO
With her?

IAGO
With her, on her, what you will.

OTHELLO
Lie with her! Lie on her? We say lie on her
when they belie her. Lie with her! Zounds, that's fulsome!
Handkerchief – confession – handkerchief! To
confess and be hanged for his labour. First to be hanged
and then to confess! I tremble at it. Nature would not
invest herself in such shadowing passion without some
instruction. It is not words that shake me thus! Pish!
Noses, ears, and lips! Is't possible? – Confess?
Handkerchief! O devil!
He falls

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!
Enter Cassio
How now, Cassio!

CASSIO
What's the matter?

IAGO
My lord is fallen into an epilepsy.
This is his second fit: he had one yesterday.

CASSIO
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?

OTHELLO
Dost thou mock me?

IAGO
I mock you? No, by heaven!
Would you would bear your fortune like a man!

OTHELLO
A horned man's a monster and a beast.

IAGO
There's many a beast then in a populous city,
And many a civil monster.

OTHELLO
Did he confess it?

IAGO
Good sir, be a man.
Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked
May draw with you. There's millions now alive
That nightly lie in those unproper beds
Which they dare swear peculiar. Your case is better.
O, 'tis the spite 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 shall be.

OTHELLO
O, thou art wise, 'tis certain.

IAGO
Stand you awhile apart;
Confine yourself but in a patient list.
Whilst you were here, o'erwhelmed with your grief –
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 promised. Do but encave yourself,
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 gestures. Marry, patience!
Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen
And nothing of a man.

OTHELLO
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 retires
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
A housewife, that by selling her desires
Buys herself bread and clothes. It is a creature
That dotes on Cassio – as 'tis the strumpet's plague
To beguile many and be beguiled by one.
He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain
From the excess of laughter. Here he comes.
Enter Cassio
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;
And his unbookish jealousy must construe
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviour
Quite in the wrong. How do you now, Lieutenant?

CASSIO
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,
How quickly should you speed!

CASSIO
Alas, poor caitiff!

OTHELLO
(aside) Look, how he laughs already!

IAGO
I never knew woman love man so.

CASSIO
Alas, poor rogue! I think i'faith she loves me.

OTHELLO
(aside) Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.

IAGO
Do you hear, Cassio?

OTHELLO
(aside) Now he importunes him to tell it o'er.
Go to, well said, well said!

IAGO
She gives it out that you shall marry her.
Do you intend it?

CASSIO
Ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO
(aside) Do you triumph, Roman? Do you triumph?

CASSIO
I marry her! What! A customer! Prithee bear some
charity to my wit: do not think it so unwholesome. Ha,
ha, ha!

OTHELLO
(aside) So, so, so, so: they laugh that win.

IAGO
Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.

CASSIO
Prithee, say true.

IAGO
I am a very villain else.

OTHELLO
(aside) Have you scored me? Well.

CASSIO
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.

OTHELLO
(aside) Iago beckons me. Now he begins the
story.

CASSIO
She was here even now. She haunts me in every
place. I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with
certain Venetians, and thither comes the bauble and, by
this hand, she falls me thus about my neck.

OTHELLO
(aside) Crying ‘ O dear Cassio!’ as it were. His
gesture imports it.

CASSIO
So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me, so hales
and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO
(aside) Now he tells how she plucked him to
my chamber. O, I see that nose of yours, but not that
dog I shall throw it to!

CASSIO
Well, I must leave her company.

IAGO
Before me! Look where she comes.

CASSIO
'Tis such another fitchew! Marry, a perfumed one!
Enter Bianca
What do you mean by this haunting of me?

BIANCA
Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did
you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even
now? I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the
work! A likely 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.

CASSIO
How now, my sweet Bianca! How now, how now!

OTHELLO
(aside) By heaven, that should be my
handkerchief!

BIANCA
If you'll come to supper tonight, you may. If you
will not, come when you are next prepared for.
Exit

IAGO
After her, after her!

CASSIO
Faith I must: she'll rail in the street else.

IAGO
Will you sup there?

CASSIO
Faith, I intend to.

IAGO
Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very fain
speak with you.

CASSIO
Prithee come, will you?

IAGO
Go to! Say no more.
Exit Cassio

OTHELLO
(coming forward)
How shall I murder him, Iago?

IAGO
Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?

OTHELLO
O, Iago!

IAGO
And did you see the handkerchief?

OTHELLO
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
giv'n it his whore.

OTHELLO
I would have him nine years a-killing! A fine
woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman!

IAGO
Nay, you must forget that.

OTHELLO
Ay, let her rot and perish, and be damned
tonight, for she shall not live! No, my heart is turned to
stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. – 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.

OTHELLO
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.

OTHELLO
O, a thousand, thousand times! – And then of
so gentle a condition!

IAGO
Ay, too gentle.

OTHELLO
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.

OTHELLO
I will chop her into messes! Cuckold me!

IAGO
O, 'tis foul in her!

OTHELLO
With mine officer!

IAGO
That's fouler.

OTHELLO
Get me some poison, Iago, this night. I'll not
expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide
my mind again – this night, Iago.

IAGO
Do it not with poison; strangle her in her bed, even
the bed she hath contaminated.

OTHELLO
Good, good! The justice of it pleases; very
good!

IAGO
And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker. You shall
hear more by midnight.

OTHELLO
Excellent good!
Trumpet sounds
What trumpet is that same?

IAGO
I warrant, something from Venice.
Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and attendants
'Tis Lodovico,
Come from the Duke; and see your wife is with him.

LODOVICO
God save you, worthy General!

OTHELLO
With all my heart, sir.

LODOVICO
The Duke and Senators of Venice greet you.
He gives him a letter

OTHELLO
I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
He reads the letter

DESDEMONA
And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?

IAGO
I am very glad to see you, signor:
Welcome to Cyprus.

LODOVICO
I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?

IAGO
Lives, sir.

DESDEMONA
Cousin, there's fallen between him and my lord
An unkind breach; but you shall make all well.

OTHELLO
Are you sure of that?

DESDEMONA
My lord?

OTHELLO
‘ This fail you not to do, as you will ’ –

LODOVICO
He did not call: he's busy in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?

DESDEMONA
A most unhappy one; I would do much
T' atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

OTHELLO
Fire and brimstone!

DESDEMONA
My lord?

OTHELLO
Are you wise?

DESDEMONA
What, is he angry?

LODOVICO
Maybe the letter moved him.
For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.

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

OTHELLO
Indeed!

DESDEMONA
My lord?

OTHELLO
I am glad to see you mad.

DESDEMONA
Why, sweet Othello!

OTHELLO
Devil!
He strikes her

DESDEMONA
I have not deserved this.

LODOVICO
My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw't. 'Tis very much.
Make her amends; she weeps.

OTHELLO
O devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!

DESDEMONA
I will not stay to offend you.

LODOVICO
Truly an obedient lady.
I do beseech your lordship call her back.

OTHELLO
Mistress!

DESDEMONA
My lord?

OTHELLO
What would you with her, sir?

LODOVICO
Who? I, my lord?

OTHELLO
Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn.
Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again. And she can weep, sir, weep.
And she's obedient; as you say, obedient,
Very obedient – proceed you in your tears –
Concerning this, sir – 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 place. And sir, tonight
I do entreat that we may sup together.
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!
Exit

LODOVICO
Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senate
Call all-in-all sufficient? Is this the nature
Whom passion could not shake? Whose solid virtue
The shot of accident nor dart of chance
Could neither graze nor pierce?

IAGO
He is much changed.

LODOVICO
Are his wits safe? Is he not light of brain?

IAGO
He's 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.

LODOVICO
What! Strike his wife!

IAGO
Faith, that was not so well: yet would I knew
That stroke would prove the worst!

LODOVICO
Is it his use?
Or did the letters work upon his blood
And new-create this fault?

IAGO
Alas, alas!
It is not honesty in me to speak
What I have seen and known. You shall observe him,
And his own courses will denote him so,
That I may save my speech. Do but go after,
And mark how he continues.

LODOVICO
I am sorry that I am deceived in him.
Modern text
Act IV, Scene II
Enter Othello and Emilia

OTHELLO
You have seen nothing then?

EMILIA
Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.

OTHELLO
Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.

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

OTHELLO
What! Did they never whisper?

EMILIA
Never, my lord.

OTHELLO
Nor send you out o'th' way?

EMILIA
Never.

OTHELLO
To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?

EMILIA
Never, my lord.

OTHELLO
That's strange.

EMILIA
I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other,
Remove your thought: it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch have put this in your head,
Let 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.

OTHELLO
Bid her come hither: go!
Exit Emilia
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.
Enter Desdemona and Emilia

DESDEMONA
My lord, what is your will?

OTHELLO
Pray, chuck, come hither.

DESDEMONA
What is your pleasure?

OTHELLO
Let me see your eyes.
Look in my face.

DESDEMONA
What horrible fancy's this?

OTHELLO
(to Emilia)
Some of your function, mistress.
Leave procreants alone and shut the door.
Cough or cry ‘ hem ’ if anybody come.
Your mystery, your mystery! Nay, dispatch!
Exit Emilia

DESDEMONA
Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words.

OTHELLO
Why, what art thou?

DESDEMONA
Your wife, my lord; your true and loyal wife.

OTHELLO
Come, swear it; damn thyself;
Lest being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
Should fear to seize thee. Therefore be double-damned:
Swear thou art honest.

DESDEMONA
Heaven doth truly know it.

OTHELLO
Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.

DESDEMONA
To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I false?

OTHELLO
Ah, Desdemon! Away, away, away!

DESDEMONA
Alas, the heavy day! Why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these tears my lord?
If haply you my father do suspect
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me. If you have lost him,
I have lost him too.

OTHELLO
Had it pleased heaven
To try me with affliction, had they rained
All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head,
Steeped 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 time of scorn
To point his slow unmoving finger at!
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well:
But there where I have garnered up my heart,
Where either I must live, or bear no life,
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up – to be discarded thence
Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rose-lipped cherubin,
Ay, there look grim as hell!

DESDEMONA
I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

OTHELLO
O, ay! As summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing, O, thou weed,
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet
That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born!

DESDEMONA
Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

OTHELLO
Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write ‘ whore ’ upon? What committed!
Committed? O, thou public commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed?
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
Is hushed within the hollow mine of earth
And will not hear it. What committed?
Impudent strumpet!

DESDEMONA
By heaven, you do me wrong.

OTHELLO
Are you not a strumpet?

DESDEMONA
No, as I am a Christian.
If to preserve this vessel for my lord
From any other foul unlawful touch,
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.

OTHELLO
What! Not a whore?

DESDEMONA
No, as I shall be saved.

OTHELLO
Is't possible?

DESDEMONA
O, heaven forgive us!

OTHELLO
I cry you mercy then:
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello. (Calling) You, mistress,
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter
And keep the gate of hell!
Enter Emilia
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

EMILIA
Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
How do you, madam? How do you, my good lady?

DESDEMONA
Faith, half asleep.

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

DESDEMONA
With who?

EMILIA
Why, with my lord, madam.

DESDEMONA
Who is thy lord?

EMILIA
He that is yours, sweet lady.

DESDEMONA
I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia:
I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,
But what should go by water. Prithee tonight
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, remember,
And call thy husband hither.

EMILIA
Here's a change indeed!
Exit

DESDEMONA
'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
How have I been behaved, that he might stick
The smallest opinion on my least misuse?
Enter Emilia and Iago

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

DESDEMONA
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?

EMILIA
Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her,
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her
As true heart cannot bear.

DESDEMONA
Am I that name, Iago?

IAGO
What name, fair lady?

DESDEMONA
Such as she said my lord did say I was.

EMILIA
He called her whore: a beggar in his drink
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.

IAGO
Why did he so?

DESDEMONA
I do not know: I am sure I am none such.

IAGO
Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!

EMILIA
Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father, and her country, all her friends,
To be called whore? Would it not make one weep?

DESDEMONA
It is my wretched fortune.

IAGO
Beshrew him for't!
How comes this trick upon him?

DESDEMONA
Nay, heaven doth know.

EMILIA
I will be hanged if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devised this slander; I'll be hanged else.

IAGO
Fie, there is no such man! It is impossible.

DESDEMONA
If any such there be, heaven pardon him.

EMILIA
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 abused by some most villainous knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
O heaven, that such companions thou'dst unfold,
And put in every honest hand a whip
To lash the rascals naked through the world,
Even from the east to th' west!

IAGO
Speak within door.

EMILIA
O fie upon them! Some such squire he was
That turned your wit the seamy side without
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

IAGO
You are a fool, go to.

DESDEMONA
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 kneel:
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 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 chide with you.

DESDEMONA
If 'twere no other –

IAGO
It is so, I warrant.
Hark how these instruments summon to supper!
The messengers of Venice stay the meat.
Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.
Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia
Enter Roderigo
How now, Roderigo?

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

IAGO
What in the contrary?

RODERIGO
Every day thou daff'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?

RODERIGO
Faith, I have heard too much; for your words
and performances are no kin together.

IAGO
You charge me most unjustly.

RODERIGO
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 received them
and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect
and acquaintance, but I find none.

IAGO
Well, go to; very well.

RODERIGO
Very well, go to! I cannot go to, man, nor 'tis
not very well. Nay, I think it is scurvy and begin to
find myself fopped in it.

IAGO
Very well.

RODERIGO
I tell you, 'tis 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 seek satisfaction of
you.

IAGO
You have said now.

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

IAGO
Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; and even from
this instant do 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.

RODERIGO
It hath not appeared.

IAGO
I grant indeed it hath not appeared; and your suspicion
is not without wit and judgement. But, Roderigo,
if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater
reason to believe now than ever – I mean purpose,
courage, and valour – this night show it. If thou the
next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from
this world with treachery, and devise engines for my life.

RODERIGO
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.

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

IAGO
O, no: he goes into Mauritania and takes away with
him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered
here by some accident: wherein none can be so determinate
as the removing of Cassio.

RODERIGO
How do you mean ‘ removing ’ of him?

IAGO
Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place –
knocking out his brains.

RODERIGO
And that you would have me to do?

IAGO
Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He
sups tonight with a harlotry; 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 amazed
at it, but go along with me. I will show 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!

RODERIGO
I will hear further reason for this.

IAGO
And you shall be satisfied.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia and attendants

LODOVICO
I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.

OTHELLO
O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk.

LODOVICO
Madam, good night. I humbly thank your ladyship.

DESDEMONA
Your honour is most welcome.

OTHELLO
Will you walk, sir?
O, Desdemona!

DESDEMONA
My lord?

OTHELLO
Get you to bed on th' instant. I will be returned
forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there. Look't be done.

DESDEMONA
I will, my lord.
Exeunt Othello, Lodovico, and attendants

EMILIA
How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did.

DESDEMONA
He says he will return incontinent.
He hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you.

EMILIA
Dismiss me?

DESDEMONA
It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,.
Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.

EMILIA
I would you had never seen him.

DESDEMONA
So would not I: my love doth so approve him
That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns –
Prithee, unpin me – have grace and favour in them.

EMILIA
I have laid those sheets, you bade me, on the bed.

DESDEMONA
All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
If I do die before thee, prithee shroud me
In one of those same sheets.

EMILIA
Come, come, you talk.

DESDEMONA
My mother had a maid called Barbary:
She was in love: and he she loved proved mad
And did forsake her. She had a song of willow;
An old thing 'twas; but it expressed her fortune,
And she died singing it. That song tonight
Will not go from my mind: I have much to do
But to go hang my head all at one side,
And sing it like poor Barbary – prithee, dispatch.

EMILIA
Shall I go fetch your nightgown?

DESDEMONA
No, unpin me here.
This Lodovico is a proper man.

EMILIA
A very handsome man.

DESDEMONA
He speaks well.

EMILIA
I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot
to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.

DESDEMONA
(sings)
The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow;
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
The fresh streams ran by her and murmured her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her and softened the stones –
(She speaks)
Lay by these.
(She sings)
Sing willow, willow, willow –
(She speaks)
Prithee hie thee; he'll come anon
(She sings)
Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve –
(She speaks)
Nay, that's not next. Hark, who is't that knocks?

EMILIA
It's the wind.

DESDEMONA
(She sings)
I called my love false love, but what said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:
If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men.
(She speaks)
So get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch:
Doth that bode weeping?

EMILIA
'Tis neither here nor there.

DESDEMONA
I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!
Dost thou in conscience think – tell me, Emilia –
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind?

EMILIA
There be some such, no question.

DESDEMONA
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

EMILIA
Why, would not you?

DESDEMONA
No, by this heavenly light.

EMILIA
Nor I neither by this heavenly light: I might do't
as well i'th' dark.

DESDEMONA
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the
world?

EMILIA
The world's a huge thing: it is a great price for a
small vice.

DESDEMONA
In troth, I think thou wouldst not.

EMILIA
In troth I think I should, and undo 't when I had
done it. 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! Ud's pity, who would not make her husband a
cuckold, to make him a monarch? I should venture
purgatory for't.

DESDEMONA
Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong for
the whole world!

EMILIA
Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th' world; and
having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your
own world, and you might quickly make it right.

DESDEMONA
I do not think there is any such woman.

EMILIA
Yes, a dozen: and as many to th' vantage as would
store the world they played for.
But I do think it is their husbands' faults
If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps;
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,
Or scant our former having in despite
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 so.

DESDEMONA
Good night, good night. God me such uses send,
Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!
Exeunt
x

Jump directly to