The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice
Part 2 out of 3
That I being absent, and my place supply'd,
My Generall will forget my Loue, and Seruice
Des. Do not doubt that: before aemilia here,
I giue thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship, Ile performe it
To the last Article. My Lord shall neuer rest,
Ile watch him tame, and talke him out of patience;
His Bed shall seeme a Schoole, his Boord a Shrift,
Ile intermingle euery thing he do's
With Cassio's suite: Therefore be merry Cassio,
For thy Solicitor shall rather dye,
Then giue thy cause away.
Enter Othello, and Iago.
Aemil. Madam, heere comes my Lord
Cassio. Madam, Ile take my leaue
Des. Why stay, and heare me speake
Cassio. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,
Vnfit for mine owne purposes
Des. Well, do your discretion.
Iago. Hah? I like not that
Othel. What dost thou say?
Iago. Nothing my Lord; or if- I know not what
Othel. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?
Iago. Cassio my Lord? No sure, I cannot thinke it
That he would steale away so guilty-like,
Seeing your comming
Oth. I do beleeue 'twas he
Des. How now my Lord?
I haue bin talking with a Suitor heere,
A man that languishes in your displeasure
Oth. Who is't you meane?
Des. Why your Lieutenant Cassio: Good my Lord,
If I haue any grace, or power to moue you,
His present reconciliation take.
For if he be not one, that truly loues you,
That erres in Ignorance, and not in Cunning,
I haue no iudgement in an honest face.
I prythee call him backe
Oth. Went he hence now?
Des. I sooth; so humbled,
That he hath left part of his greefe with mee
To suffer with him. Good Loue, call him backe
Othel. Not now (sweet Desdemon) some other time
Des. But shall't be shortly?
Oth. The sooner (Sweet) for you
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 meete the Captaines at the Cittadell
Des. Why then to morrow night, on Tuesday morne,
On Tuesday noone, or night; on Wensday Morne.
I prythee name the time, but let it not
Exceed three dayes. Infaith hee's penitent:
And yet his Trespasse, in our common reason
(Saue that they say the warres must make example)
Out of her best, is not almost a fault
T' encurre a priuate checke. When shall he come?
Tell me Othello. I wonder in my Soule
What you would aske me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mam'ring on? What? Michael Cassio,
That came a woing with you? and so many a time
(When I haue spoke of you dispraisingly)
Hath tane your part, to haue so much to do
To bring him in? Trust me, I could do much
Oth. Prythee no more: Let him come when he will:
I will deny thee nothing
Des. Why, this is not a Boone:
'Tis as I should entreate you weare your Gloues,
Or feede on nourishing dishes, or keepe you warme,
Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit
To your owne person. Nay, when I haue a suite
Wherein I meane to touch your Loue indeed,
It shall be full of poize, and difficult waight,
And fearefull to be granted
Oth. I will deny thee nothing.
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leaue me but a little to my selfe
Des. Shall I deny you? No: farewell my Lord
Oth. Farewell my Desdemona, Ile come to thee strait
Des. aemilia come; be as your Fancies teach you:
What ere you be, I am obedient.
Oth. Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my Soule
But I do loue thee: and when I loue thee not,
Chaos is come againe
Iago. My Noble Lord
Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?
Iago. Did Michael Cassio
When he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue?
Oth. He did, from first to last:
Why dost thou aske?
Iago. But for a satisfaction of my Thought,
No further harme
Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?
Iago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir
Oth. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft
Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that?
Is he not honest?
Iago. Honest, my Lord?
Oth. Honest? I, Honest
Iago. My Lord, for ought I know
Oth. What do'st thou thinke?
Iago. Thinke, my Lord?
Oth. Thinke, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchos't me;
As if there were some Monster in thy thought
Too hideous to be shewne. Thou dost mean somthing:
I heard thee say euen now, thou lik'st not that,
When Cassio left my wife. What didd'st not like?
And when I told thee, he was of my Counsaile,
Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeede?
And didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadd'st shut vp in thy Braine
Some horrible Conceite. If thou do'st loue me,
Shew me thy thought
Iago. My Lord, you know I loue you
Oth. I thinke thou do'st:
And for I know thou'rt full of Loue, and Honestie,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giu'st them breath,
Therefore these stops of thine, fright me the more:
For such things in a false disloyall Knaue
Are trickes of Custome: but in a man that's iust,
They're close dilations, working from the heart,
That Passion cannot rule
Iago. For Michael Cassio,
I dare be sworne, I thinke that he is honest
Oth. I thinke so too
Iago. Men should be what they seeme,
Or those that be not, would they might seeme none
Oth. Certaine, men should be what they seeme
Iago. Why then I thinke Cassio's an honest man
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this?
I prythee speake to me, as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and giue thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words
Iago. Good my Lord pardon me,
Though I am bound to euery Acte of dutie,
I am not bound to that: All Slaues are free:
Vtter my Thoughts? Why say, they are vild, and falce?
As where's that Palace, whereinto foule things
Sometimes intrude not? Who ha's that breast so pure,
Wherein vncleanly Apprehensions
Keepe Leetes, and Law-dayes, and in Sessions sit
With meditations lawfull?
Oth. Thou do'st conspire against thy Friend (Iago)
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his eare
A stranger to thy Thoughts
Iago. I do beseech you,
Though I perchance am vicious in my guesse
(As I confesse it is my Natures plague
To spy into Abuses, and of my iealousie
Shapes faults that are not) that your wisedome
From one, that so imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice, nor build your selfe a trouble
Out of his scattering, and vnsure obseruance:
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my Manhood, Honesty, and Wisedome,
To let you know my thoughts
Oth. What dost thou meane?
Iago. Good name in Man, & woman (deere my Lord)
Is the immediate Iewell of their Soules;
Who steales my purse, steales trash:
'Tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has bin slaue to thousands:
But he that filches from me my good Name,
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
And makes me poore indeed
Oth. Ile know thy Thoughts
Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,
Nor shall not, whil'st 'tis in my custodie
Iago. Oh, beware my Lord, of iealousie,
It is the greene-ey'd Monster, which doth mocke
The meate it feeds on. That Cuckold liues in blisse,
Who certaine of his Fate, loues not his wronger:
But oh, what damned minutes tels he ore,
Who dotes, yet doubts: Suspects, yet soundly loues?
Oth. O miserie
Iago. Poore, and Content, is rich, and rich enough,
But Riches finelesse, is as poore as Winter,
To him that euer feares he shall be poore:
Good Heauen, the Soules of all my Tribe defend
Oth. Why? why is this?
Think'st thou, I'ld make a Life of Iealousie;
To follow still the changes of the Moone
With fresh suspitions? No: to be once in doubt,
Is to be resolu'd: Exchange me for a Goat,
When I shall turne the businesse of my Soule
To such exufflicate, and blow'd Surmises,
Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me Iealious,
To say my wife is faire, feeds well, loues company,
Is free of Speech, Sings, Playes, and Dances:
Where Vertue is, these are more vertuous.
Nor from mine owne weake merites, will I draw
The smallest feare, or doubt of her reuolt,
For she had eyes, and chose me. No Iago,
Ile see before I doubt; when I doubt, proue;
And on the proofe, there is no more but this,
Away at once with Loue, or Iealousie
Ia. I am glad of this: For now I shall haue reason
To shew the Loue and Duty that I beare you
With franker spirit. Therefore (as I am bound)
Receiue it from me. I speake not yet of proofe:
Looke to your wife, obserue her well with Cassio,
Weare your eyes, thus: not Iealious, nor Secure:
I would not haue your free, and Noble Nature,
Out of selfe-Bounty, be abus'd: Looke too't:
I know our Country disposition well:
In Venice, they do let Heauen see the prankes
They dare not shew their Husbands.
Their best Conscience,
Is not to leaue't vndone, but kept vnknowne
Oth. Dost thou say so?
Iago. She did deceiue her Father, marrying you,
And when she seem'd to shake, and feare your lookes,
She lou'd them most
Oth. And so she did
Iago. Why go too then:
Shee that so young could giue out such a Seeming
To seele her Fathers eyes vp, close as Oake,
He thought 'twas Witchcraft.
But I am much too blame:
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
For too much louing you
Oth. I am bound to thee for euer
Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your Spirits:
Oth. Not a iot, not a iot
Iago. Trust me, I feare it has:
I hope you will consider what is spoke
Comes from your Loue.
But I do see y'are moou'd:
I am to pray you, not to straine my speech
To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,
Then to Suspition
Oth. I will not
Iago. Should you do so (my Lord)
My speech should fall into such vilde successe,
Which my Thoughts aym'd not.
Cassio's my worthy Friend:
My Lord, I see y'are mou'd
Oth. No, not much mou'd:
I do not thinke but Desdemona's honest
Iago. Long liue she so;
And long liue you to thinke so
Oth. And yet how Nature erring from it selfe
Iago. I, there's the point:
As (to be bold with you)
Not to affect many proposed Matches
Of her owne Clime, Complexion, and Degree,
Whereto we see in all things, Nature tends:
Foh, one may smel in such, a will most ranke,
Foule disproportions, Thoughts vnnaturall.
But (pardon me) I do not in position
Distinctly speake of her, though I may feare
Her will, recoyling to her better iudgement,
May fal to match you with her Country formes,
And happily repent
Oth. Farewell, farewell:
If more thou dost perceiue, let me know more:
Set on thy wife to obserue.
Leaue me Iago
Iago. My Lord, I take my leaue
Othel. Why did I marry?
This honest Creature (doubtlesse)
Sees, and knowes more, much more then he vnfolds
Iago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honor
To scan this thing no farther: Leaue it to time,
Although 'tis fit that Cassio haue his Place;
For sure he filles it vp with great Ability;
Yet if you please, to him off a-while:
You shall by that perceiue him, and his meanes:
Note if your Lady straine his Entertainment
With any strong, or vehement importunitie,
Much will be seene in that: In the meane time,
Let me be thought too busie in my feares,
(As worthy cause I haue to feare I am)
And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor
Oth. Feare not my gouernment
Iago. I once more take my leaue.
Oth. This Fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knowes all Quantities with a learn'd Spirit
Of humane dealings. If I do proue her Haggard,
Though that her Iesses were my deere heart-strings,
I'ld whistle her off, and let her downe the winde
To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am blacke,
And haue not those soft parts of Conuersation
That Chamberers haue: Or for I am declin'd
Into the vale of yeares (yet that's not much)
Shee's gone. I am abus'd, and my releefe
Must be to loath her. Oh Curse of Marriage!
That we can call these delicate Creatures ours,
And not their Appetites? I had rather be a Toad,
And liue vpon the vapour of a Dungeon,
Then keepe a corner in the thing I loue
For others vses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones,
Prerogatiu'd are they lesse then the Base,
'Tis destiny vnshunnable, like death:
Euen then, this forked plague is Fated to vs,
When we do quicken. Looke where she comes:
Enter Desdemona and aemilia.
If she be false, Heauen mock'd it selfe:
Ile not beleeue't
Des. How now, my deere Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous Islanders
By you inuited, do attend your presence
Oth. I am too blame
Des. Why do you speake so faintly?
Are you not well?
Oth. I haue a paine vpon my Forehead, heere
Des. Why that's with watching, 'twill away againe.
Let me but binde it hard, within this houre
It will be well
Oth. Your Napkin is too little:
Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you.
Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.
Aemil. I am glad I haue found this Napkin:
This was her first remembrance from the Moore,
My wayward Husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to steale it. But she so loues the Token,
(For he coniur'd her, she should euer keepe it)
That she reserues it euermore about her,
To kisse, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out,
And giu't Iago: what he will do with it
Heauen knowes, not I:
I nothing, but to please his Fantasie.
Iago. How now? What do you heere alone?
Aemil. Do not you chide: I haue a thing for you
Iago. You haue a thing for me?
It is a common thing-
Iago. To haue a foolish wife.
Aemil. Oh, is that all? What will you giue me now
For that same Handkerchiefe
Iago. What Handkerchiefe?
Aemil. What Handkerchiefe?
Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona,
That which so often you did bid me steale
Iago. Hast stolne it from her?
Aemil. No: but she let it drop by negligence,
And to th' aduantage, I being heere, took't vp:
Looke, heere 'tis
Iago. A good wench, giue it me.
Aemil. What will you do with't, that you haue bene
so earnest to haue me filch it?
Iago. Why, what is that to you?
Aemil. If it be not for some purpose of import,
Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, shee'l run mad
When she shall lacke it
Iago. Be not acknowne on't:
I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me.
I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin,
And let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre,
Are to the iealious, confirmations strong,
As proofes of holy Writ. This may do something.
The Moore already changes with my poyson:
Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons,
Which at the first are scarse found to distaste:
But with a little acte vpon the blood,
Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so.
Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora,
Nor all the drowsie Syrrups of the world
Shall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepe
Which thou owd'st yesterday
Oth. Ha, ha, false to mee?
Iago. Why how now Generall? No more of that
Oth. Auant, be gone: Thou hast set me on the Racke:
I sweare 'tis better to be much abus'd,
Then but to know't a little
Iago. How now, my Lord?
Oth. What sense had I, in her stolne houres of Lust?
I saw't not, thought it not: it harm'd not me:
I slept the next night well, fed well, was free, and merrie.
I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lippes:
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolne,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all
Iago. I am sorry to heare this?
Oth. I had beene happy, if the generall Campe,
Pyoners and all, had tasted her sweet Body,
So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for euer
Farewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content;
Farewell the plumed Troopes, and the bigge Warres,
That makes Ambition, Vertue! Oh farewell,
Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trumpe,
The Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife,
The Royall Banner, and all Qualitie,
Pride, Pompe, and Circumstance of glorious Warre:
And O you mortall Engines, whose rude throates
Th' immortall Ioues dread Clamours, counterfet,
Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone
Iago. Is't possible my Lord?
Oth. Villaine, be sure thou proue my Loue a Whore;
Be sure of it: Giue me the Occular proofe,
Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule,
Thou had'st bin better haue bin borne a Dog
Then answer my wak'd wrath
Iago. Is't come to this?
Oth. Make me to see't: or (at the least) so proue it,
That the probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope,
To hang a doubt on: Or woe vpon thy life
Iago. My Noble Lord
Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Neuer pray more: Abandon all remorse
On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate:
Do deeds to make Heauen weepe, all Earth amaz'd;
For nothing canst thou to damnation adde,
Greater then that
Iago. O Grace! O Heauen forgiue me!
Are you a Man? Haue you a Soule? or Sense?
God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Foole,
That lou'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice!
Oh monstrous world! Take note, take note (O World)
To be direct and honest, is not safe.
I thanke you for this profit, and from hence
Ile loue no Friend, sith Loue breeds such offence
Oth. Nay stay: thou should'st be honest
Iago. I should be wise; for Honestie's a Foole,
And looses that it workes for
Oth. By the World,
I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not:
I thinke that thou art iust, and thinke thou art not:
Ile haue some proofe. My name that was as fresh
As Dians Visage, is now begrim'd and blacke
As mine owne face. If there be Cords, or Kniues,
Poyson, or Fire, or suffocating streames,
Ile not indure it. Would I were satisfied
Iago. I see you are eaten vp with Passion:
I do repent me, that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?
Oth. Would? Nay, and I will
Iago. And may: but how? How satisfied, my Lord?
Would you the super-vision grossely gape on?
Behold her top'd?
Oth. Death, and damnation. Oh!
Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I thinke,
To bring them to that Prospect: Damne them then,
If euer mortall eyes do see them boulster
More then their owne. What then? How then?
What shall I say? Where's Satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this,
Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeyes,
As salt as Wolues in pride, and Fooles as grosse
As Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I say,
If imputation, and strong circumstances,
Which leade directly to the doore of Truth,
Will giue you satisfaction, you might haue't
Oth. Giue me a liuing reason she's disloyall
Iago. I do not like the Office.
But sith I am entred in this cause so farre
(Prick'd too't by foolish Honesty, and Loue)
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately,
And being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleepe. There are a kinde of men,
So loose of Soule, that in their sleepes will mutter
Their Affayres: one of this kinde is Cassio:
In sleepe I heard him say, sweet Desdemona,
Let vs be wary, let vs hide our Loues,
And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand:
Cry, oh sweet Creature: then kisse me hard,
As if he pluckt vp kisses by the rootes,
That grew vpon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh,
And sigh, and kisse, and then cry cursed Fate,
That gaue thee to the Moore
Oth. O monstrous! monstrous!
Iago. Nay, this was but his Dreame
Oth. But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion,
'Tis a shrew'd doubt, though it be but a Dreame
Iago. And this may helpe to thicken other proofes,
That do demonstrate thinly
Oth. Ile teare her all to peeces
Iago. Nay yet be wise; yet we see nothing done,
She may be honest yet: Tell me but this,
Haue you not sometimes seene a Handkerchiefe
Spotted with Strawberries, in your wiues hand?
Oth. I gaue her such a one: 'twas my first gift
Iago. I know not that: but such a Handkerchiefe
(I am sure it was your wiues) did I to day
See Cassio wipe his Beard with
Oth. If it be that
Iago. If it be that, or any, it was here.
It speakes against her with the other proofes
Othel. O that the Slaue had forty thousand liues:
One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge.
Now do I see 'tis true. Looke heere Iago,
All my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone.
Arise blacke vengeance, from the hollow hell,
Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and hearted Throne
To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosome with thy fraught,
For 'tis of Aspickes tongues
Iago. Yet be content
Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood
Iago. Patience I say: your minde may change
Oth. Neuer Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea,
Whose Icie Current, and compulsiue course,
Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due on
To the Proponticke, and the Hellespont:
Euen so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace
Shall neu'r looke backe, neu'r ebbe to humble Loue,
Till that a capeable, and wide Reuenge
Swallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen,
In the due reuerence of a Sacred vow,
I heere engage my words
Iago. Do not rise yet:
Witnesse you euer-burning Lights aboue,
You Elements, that clip vs round about,
Witnesse that heere Iago doth giue vp
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
What bloody businesse euer
Oth. I greet thy loue,
Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will vpon the instant put thee too't.
Within these three dayes let me heare thee say,
That Cassio's not aliue
Iago. My Friend is dead:
'Tis done at your Request.
But let her liue
Oth. Damne her lewde Minx:
O damne her, damne her.
Come go with me a-part, I will withdraw
To furnish me with some swift meanes of death
For the faire Diuell.
Now art thou my Lieutenant
Iago. I am your owne for euer.
Enter Desdemona, aemilia, and Clown.
Des. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio
Clow. I dare not say he lies any where
Des. Why man?
Clo. He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Souldier lyes,
Des. Go too: where lodges he?
Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you where
Des. Can any thing be made of this?
Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuise
a lodging, and say he lies heere, or he lies there, were
to lye in mine owne throat
Des. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report?
Clo. I will Catechize the world for him, that is, make
Questions, and by them answer
Des. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I
haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will
Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit,
and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
Des. Where should I loose the Handkerchiefe, aemilia?
Aemil. I know not Madam
Des. Beleeue me, I had rather haue lost my purse
Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore
Is true of minde, and made of no such basenesse,
As iealious Creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill-thinking.
Aemil. Is he not iealious?
Des. Who, he? I thinke the Sun where he was borne,
Drew all such humors from him.
Aemil. Looke where he comes.
Des. I will not leaue him now, till Cassio be
Call'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord?
Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to dissemble!
How do you, Desdemona?
Des. Well, my good Lord
Oth. Giue me your hand.
This hand is moist, my Lady
Des. It hath felt no age, nor knowne no sorrow
Oth. This argues fruitfulnesse, and liberall heart:
Hot, hot, and moyst. This hand of yours requires
A sequester from Liberty: Fasting, and Prayer,
Much Castigation, Exercise deuout,
For heere's a yong, and sweating Diuell heere
That commonly rebels: 'Tis a good hand,
A franke one
Des. You may (indeed) say so:
For 'twas that hand that gaue away my heart
Oth. A liberall hand. The hearts of old, gaue hands:
But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts
Des. I cannot speake of this:
Come, now your promise
Oth. What promise, Chucke?
Des. I haue sent to bid Cassio come speake with you
Oth. I haue a salt and sorry Rhewme offends me:
Lend me thy Handkerchiefe
Des. Heere my Lord
Oth. That which I gaue you
Des. I haue it not about me
Des. No indeed, my Lord
Oth. That's a fault: That Handkerchiefe
Did an aegyptian to my Mother giue:
She was a Charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it,
'T would make her Amiable, and subdue my Father
Intirely to her loue: But if she lost it,
Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eye
Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt
After new Fancies. She dying, gaue it me,
And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd)
To giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't,
Make it a Darling, like your precious eye:
To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match
Des. Is't possible?
Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it:
A Sybill that had numbred in the world
The Sun to course, two hundred compasses,
In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke:
The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke,
And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull
Conseru'd of Maidens hearts
Des. Indeed? Is't true?
Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well
Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't?
Oth. Ha? wherefore?
Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash?
Oth. Is't lost? Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way?
Des. Blesse vs
Oth. Say you?
Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were?
Des. I say it is not lost
Oth. Fetcht, let me see't
Des. Why so I can: but I will not now:
This is a tricke to put me from my suite,
Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe
Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe,
My minde mis-giues
Des. Come, come: you'l neuer meete a more sufficient
Oth. The Handkerchiefe
Des. A man that all his time
Hath founded his good Fortunes on your loue;
Shar'd dangers with you
Oth. The Handkerchiefe
Des. Insooth, you are too blame
Aemil. Is not this man iealious?
Des. I neu'r saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe,
I am most vnhappy in the losse of it.
Aemil. 'Tis not a yeare or two shewes vs a man:
They are all but Stomackes, and we all but Food,
They eate vs hungerly, and when they are full
They belch vs.
Enter Iago, and Cassio.
Looke you, Cassio and my Husband
Iago. There is no other way: 'tis she must doo't:
And loe the happinesse: go, and importune her
Des. How now (good Cassio) what's the newes with
Cassio. Madam, my former suite. I do beseech you,
That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe
Exist, and be a member of his loue,
Whom I, with all the Office of my heart
Intirely honour, I would not be delayd.
If my offence, be of such mortall kinde,
That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,
Can ransome me into his loue againe,
But to know so, must be my benefit:
So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content,
And shut my selfe vp in some other course
To Fortunes Almes
Des. Alas (thrice-gentle Cassio)
My Aduocation is not now in Tune;
My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him,
Were he in Fauour, as in Humour alter'd.
So helpe me euery spirit sanctified,
As I haue spoken for you all my best,
And stood within the blanke of his displeasure
For my free speech. You must awhile be patient:
What I can do, I will: and more I will
Then for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you
Iago. Is my Lord angry?
Aemil. He went hence but now:
And certainly in strange vnquietnesse
Iago. Can he be angry? I haue seen the Cannon
When it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre,
And like the Diuell from his very Arme
Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry?
Something of moment then: I will go meet him,
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State,
Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practise
Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him,
Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases,
Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things,
Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so.
For let our finger ake, and it endues
Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense
Of paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods,
Nor of them looke for such obseruancie
As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia,
I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am)
Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule:
But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse,
And he's Indited falsely.
Aemil. Pray heauen it bee
State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception,
Nor no Iealious Toy, concerning you
Des. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him cause.
Aemil. But Iealious soules will not be answer'd so;
They are not euer iealious for the cause,
But iealious, for they're iealious. It is a Monster
Begot vpon it selfe, borne on it selfe
Des. Heauen keepe the Monster from Othello's mind.
Aemil. Lady, Amen
Des. I will go seeke him. Cassio, walke heere about:
If I doe finde him fit, Ile moue your suite,
And seeke to effect it to my vttermost.
Cas. I humbly thanke your Ladyship.
Bian. 'Saue you (Friend Cassio.)
Cassio. What make you from home?
How is't with you, my most faire Bianca?
Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house
Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Cassio.
What? keepe a weeke away? Seuen dayes, and Nights?
Eight score eight houres? And Louers absent howres
More tedious then the Diall, eight score times?
Oh weary reck'ning
Cassio. Pardon me, Bianca:
I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest,
But I shall in a more continuate time
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca
Take me this worke out
Bianca. Oh Cassio, whence came this?
This is some Token from a newer Friend,
To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause:
Is't come to this? Well, well
Cassio. Go too, woman:
Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth,
From whence you haue them. You are iealious now,
That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance;
No, in good troth Bianca
Bian. Why, who's is it?
Cassio. I know not neither:
I found it in my Chamber,
I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded
(As like enough it will) I would haue it coppied:
Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time
Bian. Leaue you? Wherefore?
Cassio. I do attend heere on the Generall,
And thinke it no addition, nor my wish
To haue him see me woman'd
Bian. Why, I pray you?
Cassio. Not that I loue you not
Bian. But that you do not loue me.
I pray you bring me on the way a little,
And say, if I shall see you soone at night?
Cassio. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone
Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
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?
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
Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish)
Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe?
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.
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.
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 Seabanke
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
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?
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.
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. If you are so fond ouer her iniquitie: giue her
pattent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere
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.
Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants.
Othe. Excellent good: What Trumpet is that same?
Iago. I warrant something from Venice,
'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 the 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
Des. My Lord?
Othe. I am glad to see you mad
Des. Why, sweete Othello?
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
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.
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 denote 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.
Enter Othello and aemilia.
Othe. You haue seene nothing then?
Aemil. Nor euer heard: nor euer did suspect
Othe. Yes, you haue seene Cassio, and she together
Aemi. But then I saw no harme: and then I heard,
Each syllable that breath made vp betweene them
Othe. What? Did they neuer whisper?
Aemil. Neuer my Lord
Othe. Nor send you out o'th' way?
Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor nothing?
Aemil. Neuer my Lord
Othe. That's strange.
Aemil. 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.
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 aemilia.
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 body come:
Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.
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. 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.
Aemil. Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceiue?
How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady?
Des. Faith, halfe a sleepe
Aemi. Good Madam,
What's the matter with my Lord?
Des. With who?
Aemil. Why, with my Lord, Madam?
Des. Who is thy Lord?
Aemil. He that is yours, sweet Lady
Des. I haue none: do not talke to me, aemilia,
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.
Aemil. Heere's a change indeed.
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 aemilia.
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?
Aemil. 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.
Aemil. 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.
Aemil. 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
Aemi. 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.
Aemil. 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.
Aemil. 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 aemilia.
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
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
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
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.
Rod. I will heare further reason for this
Iago. And you shalbe satisfi'd.
Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, aemilia, 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
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
Des. I will my Lord
Aem. 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
Aemi. Dismisse me?
Des. It was his bidding: therefore good aemilia,
Giue me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.
Aemil. 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
Aemi. 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.
Aemil. 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 Barbarie: prythee dispatch
Aemi. Shall I go fetch your Night-gowne?
Des. No, vn-pin me here,
This Lodouico is a proper man.
Aemil. A very handsome man
Des. He speakes well.
Aemil. 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, Willough.
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?
Aemil. 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?
Aemil. '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 aemilia)
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such grosse kinde?
Aemil. There be some such, no question
Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world?
Aemil. Why, would not you?
Des. No, by this Heauenly light.
Aemil. 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?
Aemil. The world's a huge thing:
It is a great price, for a small vice
Des. Introth, I thinke thou would'st not.
Aemil. 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
Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
For the whole world.
Aemil. 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.
Aemil. 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.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Iago, and Rodorigo.
Iago. Heere, stand behinde this Barke,
Straight will he come:
Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home:
Quicke, quicke, feare nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow,
It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on that,
And fixe most firme thy Resolution
Rod. Be neere at hand, I may miscarry in't
Iago. Heere, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand
Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the deed,
And yet he hath giuen me satisfying Reasons:
'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies
Iago. I haue rub'd this yong Quat almost to the sense,
And he growes angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo,
He calles me to a restitution large
Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him,
As Guifts to Desdemona.
It must not be: If Cassio do remaine,
He hath a dayly beauty in his life,
That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore
May vnfold me to him: there stand I in much perill:
No, he must dye. But so, I heard him comming.
Rod. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villaine thou dyest
Cas. That thrust had beene mine enemy indeed,
But that my Coate is better then thou know'st:
I will make proofe of thine
Rod. Oh, I am slaine
Cassio. I am maym'd for euer:
Helpe hoa: Murther, murther.
Oth. The voyce of Cassio. Iago keepes his word
Rod. O Villaine that I am
Oth. It is euen so
Cas. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon
Oth. 'Tis he: O braue Iago, honest, and iust,
That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong,
Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes dead,
And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come:
For of my heart, those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted.
Thy Bed lust-stain'd, shall with Lusts blood bee spotted.
Enter Lodouico and Gratiano.
Cas. What hoa? no Watch? No passage?
Gra. 'Tis some mischance, the voyce is very direfull
Cas. Oh helpe
Rod. Oh wretched Villaine
Lod. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night;
These may be counterfeits: Let's think't vnsafe
To come into the cry, without more helpe
Rod. Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death.
Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and
Iago. Who's there?
Who's noyse is this that cries on murther?
Lodo. We do not know
Iago. Do not you heare a cry?
Cas. Heere, heere: for heauen sake helpe me
Iago. What's the matter?
Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it
Lodo. The same indeede, a very valiant Fellow
Iago. What are you heere, that cry so greeuously?
Cas. Iago? Oh I am spoyl'd, vndone by Villaines:
Giue me some helpe
Iago. O mee, Lieutenant!
What Villaines haue done this?
Cas. I thinke that one of them is heereabout.
And cannot make away
Iago. Oh treacherous Villaines:
What are you there? Come in, and giue some helpe
Rod. O helpe me there
Cassio. That's one of them
Iago. Oh murd'rous Slaue! O Villaine!
Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhumane Dogge!
Back to Full Books