The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice

1. ACT I

   1. SCENE I. Venice. A street.

      Enter RODERIGO and IAGO

      RODERIGO

      Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly
      That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse
      As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.
      

      IAGO

      'Sblood, but you will not hear me:
      If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.
      

      RODERIGO

      Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate.
      

      IAGO

      Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,
      In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
      Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man,
      I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
      But he; as loving his own pride and purposes,
      Evades them, with a bombast circumstance
      Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
      And, in conclusion,
      Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he,
      'I have already chose my officer.'
      And what was he?
      Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
      One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
      A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;
      That never set a squadron in the field,
      Nor the division of a battle knows
      More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
      Wherein the toged consuls can propose
      As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise,
      Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
      And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
      At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds
      Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'd
      By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,
      He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
      And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorship's ancient.
      

      RODERIGO

      By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.
      

      IAGO

      Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,
      Preferment goes by letter and affection,
      And not by old gradation, where each second
      Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,
      Whether I in any just term am affined
      To love the Moor.
      

      RODERIGO

      I would not follow him then.
      

      IAGO

      O, sir, content you;
      I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
      We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
      Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
      Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
      That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
      Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
      For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd:
      Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
      Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
      Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,
      And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
      Do well thrive by them and when they have lined
      their coats
      Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;
      And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,
      It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
      Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
      In following him, I follow but myself;
      Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
      But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
      For when my outward action doth demonstrate
      The native act and figure of my heart
      In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
      But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
      For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
      

      RODERIGO

      What a full fortune does the thicklips owe
      If he can carry't thus!
      

      IAGO

      Call up her father,
      Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,
      Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,
      And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
      Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,
      Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
      As it may lose some colour.
      

      RODERIGO

      Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.
      

      IAGO

      Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell
      As when, by night and negligence, the fire
      Is spied in populous cities.
      

      RODERIGO

      What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!
      

      IAGO

      Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves!
      Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!
      Thieves! thieves!
      

      BRABANTIO appears above, at a window

      BRABANTIO

      What is the reason of this terrible summons?
      What is the matter there?
      

      RODERIGO

      Signior, is all your family within?
      

      IAGO

      Are your doors lock'd?
      

      BRABANTIO

      Why, wherefore ask you this?
      

      IAGO

      'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on
      your gown;
      Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
      Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
      Is topping your white ewe. Arise, arise;
      Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
      Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:
      Arise, I say.
      

      BRABANTIO

      What, have you lost your wits?
      

      RODERIGO

      Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?
      

      BRABANTIO

      Not I what are you?
      

      RODERIGO

      My name is Roderigo.
      

      BRABANTIO

      The worser welcome:
      I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:
      In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
      My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,
      Being full of supper and distempering draughts,
      Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
      To start my quiet.
      

      RODERIGO

      Sir, sir, sir,--
      

      BRABANTIO

      But thou must needs be sure
      My spirit and my place have in them power
      To make this bitter to thee.
      

      RODERIGO

      Patience, good sir.
      

      BRABANTIO

      What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;
      My house is not a grange.
      

      RODERIGO

      Most grave Brabantio,
      In simple and pure soul I come to you.
      

      IAGO

      'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not
      serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to
      do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll
      have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;
      you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have
      coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.
      

      BRABANTIO

      What profane wretch art thou?
      

      IAGO

      I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter
      and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.
      

      BRABANTIO

      Thou art a villain.
      

      IAGO

      You are--a senator.
      

      BRABANTIO

      This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.
      

      RODERIGO

      Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you,
      If't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
      As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,
      At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night,
      Transported, with no worse nor better guard
      But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
      To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor--
      If this be known to you and your allowance,
      We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
      But if you know not this, my manners tell me
      We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
      That, from the sense of all civility,
      I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
      Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,
      I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
      Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes
      In an extravagant and wheeling stranger
      Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:
      If she be in her chamber or your house,
      Let loose on me the justice of the state
      For thus deluding you.
      

      BRABANTIO

      Strike on the tinder, ho!
      Give me a taper! call up all my people!
      This accident is not unlike my dream:
      Belief of it oppresses me already.
      Light, I say! light!
      

      Exit above

      IAGO

      Farewell; for I must leave you:
      It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
      To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall--
      Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state,
      However this may gall him with some cheque,
      Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd
      With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
      Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls,
      Another of his fathom they have none,
      To lead their business: in which regard,
      Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains.
      Yet, for necessity of present life,
      I must show out a flag and sign of love,
      Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him,
      Lead to the Sagittary the raised search;
      And there will I be with him. So, farewell.
      

      Exit

      Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches

      BRABANTIO

      It is too true an evil: gone she is;
      And what's to come of my despised time
      Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo,
      Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl!
      With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father!
      How didst thou know 'twas she? O she deceives me
      Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers:
      Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you?
      

      RODERIGO

      Truly, I think they are.
      

      BRABANTIO

      O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood!
      Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
      By what you see them act. Is there not charms
      By which the property of youth and maidhood
      May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
      Of some such thing?
      

      RODERIGO

      Yes, sir, I have indeed.
      

      BRABANTIO

      Call up my brother. O, would you had had her!
      Some one way, some another. Do you know
      Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?
      

      RODERIGO

      I think I can discover him, if you please,
      To get good guard and go along with me.
      

      BRABANTIO

      Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call;
      I may command at most. Get weapons, ho!
      And raise some special officers of night.
      On, good Roderigo: I'll deserve your pains.
      

      Exeunt

   2. SCENE II. Another street.

      Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants with torches

      IAGO

      Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
      Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience
      To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity
      Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times
      I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.
      

      OTHELLO

      'Tis better as it is.
      

      IAGO

      Nay, but he prated,
      And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
      Against your honour
      That, with the little godliness I have,
      I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir,
      Are you fast married? Be assured of this,
      That the magnifico is much beloved,
      And hath in his effect a voice potential
      As double as the duke's: he will divorce you;
      Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
      The law, with all his might to enforce it on,
      Will give him cable.
      

      OTHELLO

      Let him do his spite:
      My services which I have done the signiory
      Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,--
      Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
      I shall promulgate--I fetch my life and being
      From men of royal siege, and my demerits
      May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune
      As this that I have reach'd: for know, Iago,
      But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
      I would not my unhoused free condition
      Put into circumscription and confine
      For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yond?
      

      IAGO

      Those are the raised father and his friends:
      You were best go in.
      

      OTHELLO

      Not I I must be found:
      My parts, my title and my perfect soul
      Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
      

      IAGO

      By Janus, I think no.
      

      Enter CASSIO, and certain Officers with torches

      OTHELLO

      The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant.
      The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
      What is the news?
      

      CASSIO

      The duke does greet you, general,
      And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,
      Even on the instant.
      

      OTHELLO

      What is the matter, think you?
      

      CASSIO

      Something from Cyprus as I may divine:
      It is a business of some heat: the galleys
      Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
      This very night at one another's heels,
      And many of the consuls, raised and met,
      Are at the duke's already: you have been
      hotly call'd for;
      When, being not at your lodging to be found,
      The senate hath sent about three several guests
      To search you out.
      

      OTHELLO

      'Tis well I am found by you.
      I will but spend a word here in the house,
      And go with you.
      

      Exit

      CASSIO

      Ancient, what makes he here?
      

      IAGO

      'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack:
      If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.
      

      CASSIO

      I do not understand.
      

      IAGO

      He's married.
      

      CASSIO

      To who?
      

      Re-enter OTHELLO

      IAGO

      Marry, to--Come, captain, will you go?
      

      OTHELLO

      Have with you.
      

      CASSIO

      Here comes another troop to seek for you.
      

      IAGO

      It is Brabantio. General, be advised;
      He comes to bad intent.
      

      Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers with torches and weapons

      OTHELLO

      Holla! stand there!
      

      RODERIGO

      Signior, it is the Moor.
      

      BRABANTIO

      Down with him, thief!
      

      They draw on both sides

      IAGO

      You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you.
      

      OTHELLO

      Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
      Good signior, you shall more command with years
      Than with your weapons.
      

      BRABANTIO

      O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter?
      Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her;
      For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
      If she in chains of magic were not bound,
      Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy,
      So opposite to marriage that she shunned
      The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,
      Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
      Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
      Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight.
      Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense
      That thou hast practised on her with foul charms,
      Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
      That weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on;
      'Tis probable and palpable to thinking.
      I therefore apprehend and do attach thee
      For an abuser of the world, a practiser
      Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.
      Lay hold upon him: if he do resist,
      Subdue him at his peril.
      

      OTHELLO

      Hold your hands,
      Both you of my inclining, and the rest:
      Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
      Without a prompter. Where will you that I go
      To answer this your charge?
      

      BRABANTIO

      To prison, till fit time
      Of law and course of direct session
      Call thee to answer.
      

      OTHELLO

      What if I do obey?
      How may the duke be therewith satisfied,
      Whose messengers are here about my side,
      Upon some present business of the state
      To bring me to him?
      

      First Officer

      'Tis true, most worthy signior;
      The duke's in council and your noble self,
      I am sure, is sent for.
      

      BRABANTIO

      How! the duke in council!
      In this time of the night! Bring him away:
      Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself,
      Or any of my brothers of the state,
      Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own;
      For if such actions may have passage free,
      Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.
      

      Exeunt

   3. SCENE III. A council-chamber.

      The DUKE and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending

      DUKE OF VENICE

      There is no composition in these news
      That gives them credit.
      

      First Senator

      Indeed, they are disproportion'd;
      My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      And mine, a hundred and forty.
      

      Second Senator

      And mine, two hundred:
      But though they jump not on a just account,--
      As in these cases, where the aim reports,
      'Tis oft with difference--yet do they all confirm
      A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Nay, it is possible enough to judgment:
      I do not so secure me in the error,
      But the main article I do approve
      In fearful sense.
      

      Sailor

      Within
      What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!
      

      First Officer

      A messenger from the galleys.
      

      Enter a Sailor

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Now, what's the business?
      

      Sailor

      The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
      So was I bid report here to the state
      By Signior Angelo.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      How say you by this change?
      

      First Senator

      This cannot be,
      By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant,
      To keep us in false gaze. When we consider
      The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
      And let ourselves again but understand,
      That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
      So may he with more facile question bear it,
      For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
      But altogether lacks the abilities
      That Rhodes is dress'd in: if we make thought of this,
      We must not think the Turk is so unskilful
      To leave that latest which concerns him first,
      Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,
      To wake and wage a danger profitless.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
      

      First Officer

      Here is more news.
      

      Enter a Messenger

      Messenger

      The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
      Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes,
      Have there injointed them with an after fleet.
      

      First Senator

      Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?
      

      Messenger

      Of thirty sail: and now they do restem
      Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
      Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
      Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
      With his free duty recommends you thus,
      And prays you to believe him.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.
      Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?
      

      First Senator

      He's now in Florence.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch.
      

      First Senator

      Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.
      

      Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Officers

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
      Against the general enemy Ottoman.
      I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
      We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight.
      

      BRABANTIO

      So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me;
      Neither my place nor aught I heard of business
      Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care
      Take hold on me, for my particular grief
      Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature
      That it engluts and swallows other sorrows
      And it is still itself.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Why, what's the matter?
      

      BRABANTIO

      My daughter! O, my daughter!
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Dead?
      

      BRABANTIO

      Ay, to me;
      She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted
      By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;
      For nature so preposterously to err,
      Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
      Sans witchcraft could not.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding
      Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself
      And you of her, the bloody book of law
      You shall yourself read in the bitter letter
      After your own sense, yea, though our proper son
      Stood in your action.
      

      BRABANTIO

      Humbly I thank your grace.
      Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,
      Your special mandate for the state-affairs
      Hath hither brought.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      We are very sorry for't.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      To OTHELLO
      What, in your own part, can you say to this?
      

      BRABANTIO

      Nothing, but this is so.
      

      OTHELLO

      Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
      My very noble and approved good masters,
      That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
      It is most true; true, I have married her:
      The very head and front of my offending
      Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
      And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace:
      For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
      Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
      Their dearest action in the tented field,
      And little of this great world can I speak,
      More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
      And therefore little shall I grace my cause
      In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
      I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
      Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
      What conjuration and what mighty magic,
      For such proceeding I am charged withal,
      I won his daughter.
      

      BRABANTIO

      A maiden never bold;
      Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
      Blush'd at herself; and she, in spite of nature,
      Of years, of country, credit, every thing,
      To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on!
      It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect
      That will confess perfection so could err
      Against all rules of nature, and must be driven
      To find out practises of cunning hell,
      Why this should be. I therefore vouch again
      That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
      Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
      He wrought upon her.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      To vouch this, is no proof,
      Without more wider and more overt test
      Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
      Of modern seeming do prefer against him.
      

      First Senator

      But, Othello, speak:
      Did you by indirect and forced courses
      Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
      Or came it by request and such fair question
      As soul to soul affordeth?
      

      OTHELLO

      I do beseech you,
      Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
      And let her speak of me before her father:
      If you do find me foul in her report,
      The trust, the office I do hold of you,
      Not only take away, but let your sentence
      Even fall upon my life.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Fetch Desdemona hither.
      

      OTHELLO

      Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place.
      And, till she come, as truly as to heaven
      I do confess the vices of my blood,
      So justly to your grave ears I'll present
      How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
      And she in mine.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Say it, Othello.
      

      OTHELLO

      Her father loved me; oft invited me;
      Still question'd me the story of my life,
      From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
      That I have passed.
      I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
      To the very moment that he bade me tell it;
      Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
      Of moving accidents by flood and field
      Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,
      Of being taken by the insolent foe
      And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence
      And portance in my travels' history:
      Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
      Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven
      It was my hint to speak,--such was the process;
      And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
      The Anthropophagi and men whose heads
      Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
      Would Desdemona seriously incline:
      But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:
      Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
      She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
      Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
      Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
      To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
      That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
      Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
      But not intentively: I did consent,
      And often did beguile her of her tears,
      When I did speak of some distressful stroke
      That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
      She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
      She swore, in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange,
      'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:
      She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
      That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me,
      And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
      I should but teach him how to tell my story.
      And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
      She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
      And I loved her that she did pity them.
      This only is the witchcraft I have used:
      Here comes the lady; let her witness it.
      

      Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, and Attendants

      DUKE OF VENICE

      I think this tale would win my daughter too.
      Good Brabantio,
      Take up this mangled matter at the best:
      Men do their broken weapons rather use
      Than their bare hands.
      

      BRABANTIO

      I pray you, hear her speak:
      If she confess that she was half the wooer,
      Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
      Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress:
      Do you perceive in all this noble company
      Where most you owe obedience?
      

      DESDEMONA

      My noble father,
      I do perceive here a divided duty:
      To you I am bound for life and education;
      My life and education both do learn me
      How to respect you; you are the lord of duty;
      I am hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband,
      And so much duty as my mother show'd
      To you, preferring you before her father,
      So much I challenge that I may profess
      Due to the Moor my lord.
      

      BRABANTIO

      God be wi' you! I have done.
      Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs:
      I had rather to adopt a child than get it.
      Come hither, Moor:
      I here do give thee that with all my heart
      Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
      I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,
      I am glad at soul I have no other child:
      For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
      To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence,
      Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers
      Into your favour.
      When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
      By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
      To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
      Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
      What cannot be preserved when fortune takes
      Patience her injury a mockery makes.
      The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief;
      He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
      

      BRABANTIO

      So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
      We lose it not, so long as we can smile.
      He bears the sentence well that nothing bears
      But the free comfort which from thence he hears,
      But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow
      That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
      These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,
      Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:
      But words are words; I never yet did hear
      That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.
      I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for
      Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best
      known to you; and though we have there a substitute
      of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a
      sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer
      voice on you: you must therefore be content to
      slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this
      more stubborn and boisterous expedition.
      

      OTHELLO

      The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
      Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
      My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnise
      A natural and prompt alacrity
      I find in hardness, and do undertake
      These present wars against the Ottomites.
      Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
      I crave fit disposition for my wife.
      Due reference of place and exhibition,
      With such accommodation and besort
      As levels with her breeding.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      If you please,
      Be't at her father's.
      

      BRABANTIO

      I'll not have it so.
      

      OTHELLO

      Nor I.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Nor I; I would not there reside,
      To put my father in impatient thoughts
      By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
      To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear;
      And let me find a charter in your voice,
      To assist my simpleness.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      What would You, Desdemona?
      

      DESDEMONA

      That I did love the Moor to live with him,
      My downright violence and storm of fortunes
      May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued
      Even to the very quality of my lord:
      I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
      And to his honour and his valiant parts
      Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
      So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
      A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
      The rites for which I love him are bereft me,
      And I a heavy interim shall support
      By his dear absence. Let me go with him.
      

      OTHELLO

      Let her have your voices.
      Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not,
      To please the palate of my appetite,
      Nor to comply with heat--the young affects
      In me defunct--and proper satisfaction.
      But to be free and bounteous to her mind:
      And heaven defend your good souls, that you think
      I will your serious and great business scant
      For she is with me: no, when light-wing'd toys
      Of feather'd Cupid seal with wanton dullness
      My speculative and officed instruments,
      That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
      Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
      And all indign and base adversities
      Make head against my estimation!
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Be it as you shall privately determine,
      Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste,
      And speed must answer it.
      

      First Senator

      You must away to-night.
      

      OTHELLO

      With all my heart.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again.
      Othello, leave some officer behind,
      And he shall our commission bring to you;
      With such things else of quality and respect
      As doth import you.
      

      OTHELLO

      So please your grace, my ancient;
      A man he is of honest and trust:
      To his conveyance I assign my wife,
      With what else needful your good grace shall think
      To be sent after me.
      

      DUKE OF VENICE

      Let it be so.
      Good night to every one.
      And, noble signior,
      If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
      Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
      

      First Senator

      Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.
      

      BRABANTIO

      Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:
      She has deceived her father, and may thee.
      

      Exeunt DUKE OF VENICE, Senators, Officers, &c

      OTHELLO

      My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,
      My Desdemona must I leave to thee:
      I prithee, let thy wife attend on her:
      And bring them after in the best advantage.
      Come, Desdemona: I have but an hour
      Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
      To spend with thee: we must obey the time.
      

      Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA

      RODERIGO

      Iago,--
      

      IAGO

      What say'st thou, noble heart?
      

      RODERIGO

      What will I do, thinkest thou?
      

      IAGO

      Why, go to bed, and sleep.
      

      RODERIGO

      I will incontinently drown myself.
      

      IAGO

      If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why,
      thou silly gentleman!
      

      RODERIGO

      It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and
      then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
      

      IAGO

      O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four
      times seven years; and since I could distinguish
      betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man
      that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I
      would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I
      would change my humanity with a baboon.
      

      RODERIGO

      What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so
      fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
      

      IAGO

      Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus
      or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which
      our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant
      nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up
      thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or
      distract it with many, either to have it sterile
      with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the
      power and corrigible authority of this lies in our
      wills. If the balance of our lives had not one
      scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the
      blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us
      to most preposterous conclusions: but we have
      reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal
      stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that
      you call love to be a sect or scion.
      

      RODERIGO

      It cannot be.
      

      IAGO

      It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of
      the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown
      cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy
      friend and I confess me knit to thy deserving with
      cables of perdurable toughness; I could never
      better stead thee than now. Put money in thy
      purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with
      an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It
      cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her
      love to the Moor,-- put money in thy purse,--nor he
      his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou
      shalt see an answerable sequestration:--put but
      money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in
      their wills: fill thy purse with money:--the food
      that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be
      to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must
      change for youth: when she is sated with his body,
      she will find the error of her choice: she must
      have change, she must: therefore put money in thy
      purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a
      more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money
      thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt
      an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian not
      too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou
      shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of
      drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek
      thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than
      to be drowned and go without her.
      

      RODERIGO

      Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on
      the issue?
      

      IAGO

      Thou art sure of me:--go, make money:--I have told
      thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I
      hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no
      less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge
      against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost
      thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many
      events in the womb of time which will be delivered.
      Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more
      of this to-morrow. Adieu.
      

      RODERIGO

      Where shall we meet i' the morning?
      

      IAGO

      At my lodging.
      

      RODERIGO

      I'll be with thee betimes.
      

      IAGO

      Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?
      

      RODERIGO

      What say you?
      

      IAGO

      No more of drowning, do you hear?
      

      RODERIGO

      I am changed: I'll go sell all my land.
      

      Exit

      IAGO

      Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
      For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
      If I would time expend with such a snipe.
      But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor:
      And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
      He has done my office: I know not if't be true;
      But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
      Will do as if for surety. He holds me well;
      The better shall my purpose work on him.
      Cassio's a proper man: let me see now:
      To get his place and to plume up my will
      In double knavery--How, how? Let's see:--
      After some time, to abuse Othello's ear
      That he is too familiar with his wife.
      He hath a person and a smooth dispose
      To be suspected, framed to make women false.
      The Moor is of a free and open nature,
      That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
      And will as tenderly be led by the nose
      As asses are.
      I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night
      Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
      

      Exit

2. ACT II

   1. SCENE I. A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.

      Enter MONTANO and two Gentlemen

      MONTANO

      What from the cape can you discern at sea?
      

      First Gentleman

      Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood;
      I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main,
      Descry a sail.
      

      MONTANO

      Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;
      A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:
      If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
      What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
      Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?
      

      Second Gentleman

      A segregation of the Turkish fleet:
      For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
      The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds;
      The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,
      seems to cast water on the burning bear,
      And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
      I never did like molestation view
      On the enchafed flood.
      

      MONTANO

      If that the Turkish fleet
      Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd:
      It is impossible they bear it out.
      

      Enter a third Gentleman

      Third Gentleman

      News, lads! our wars are done.
      The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,
      That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice
      Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance
      On most part of their fleet.
      

      MONTANO

      How! is this true?
      

      Third Gentleman

      The ship is here put in,
      A Veronesa; Michael Cassio,
      Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,
      Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea,
      And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
      

      MONTANO

      I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.
      

      Third Gentleman

      But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort
      Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,
      And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted
      With foul and violent tempest.
      

      MONTANO

      Pray heavens he be;
      For I have served him, and the man commands
      Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!
      As well to see the vessel that's come in
      As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
      Even till we make the main and the aerial blue
      An indistinct regard.
      

      Third Gentleman

      Come, let's do so:
      For every minute is expectancy
      Of more arrivance.
      

      Enter CASSIO

      CASSIO

      Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,
      That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens
      Give him defence against the elements,
      For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea.
      

      MONTANO

      Is he well shipp'd?
      

      CASSIO

      His bark is stoutly timber'd, his pilot
      Of very expert and approved allowance;
      Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
      Stand in bold cure.
      

      A cry within 'A sail, a sail, a sail!'

      Enter a fourth Gentleman

      CASSIO

      What noise?
      

      Fourth Gentleman

      The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea
      Stand ranks of people, and they cry 'A sail!'
      

      CASSIO

      My hopes do shape him for the governor.
      

      Guns heard

      Second Gentlemen

      They do discharge their shot of courtesy:
      Our friends at least.
      

      CASSIO

      I pray you, sir, go forth,
      And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.
      

      Second Gentleman

      I shall.
      

      Exit

      MONTANO

      But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?
      

      CASSIO

      Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid
      That paragons description and wild fame;
      One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
      And in the essential vesture of creation
      Does tire the ingener.
      How now! who has put in?
      

      Second Gentleman

      'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.
      

      CASSIO

      Has had most favourable and happy speed:
      Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
      The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands--
      Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,--
      As having sense of beauty, do omit
      Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
      The divine Desdemona.
      

      MONTANO

      What is she?
      

      CASSIO

      She that I spake of, our great captain's captain,
      Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
      Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
      A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,
      And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,
      That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
      Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
      Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits
      And bring all Cyprus comfort!
      O, behold,
      The riches of the ship is come on shore!
      Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
      Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
      Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
      Enwheel thee round!
      

      DESDEMONA

      I thank you, valiant Cassio.
      What tidings can you tell me of my lord?
      

      CASSIO

      He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught
      But that he's well and will be shortly here.
      

      DESDEMONA

      O, but I fear--How lost you company?
      

      CASSIO

      The great contention of the sea and skies
      Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail.
      

      Within 'A sail, a sail!' Guns heard

      Second Gentleman

      They give their greeting to the citadel;
      This likewise is a friend.
      

      CASSIO

      See for the news.
      Good ancient, you are welcome.
      Welcome, mistress.
      Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
      That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding
      That gives me this bold show of courtesy.
      

      Kissing her

      IAGO

      Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
      As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
      You'll have enough.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Alas, she has no speech.
      

      IAGO

      In faith, too much;
      I find it still, when I have list to sleep:
      Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
      She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
      And chides with thinking.
      

      EMILIA

      You have little cause to say so.
      

      IAGO

      Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,
      Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
      Saints m your injuries, devils being offended,
      Players in your housewifery, and housewives' in your beds.
      

      DESDEMONA

      O, fie upon thee, slanderer!
      

      IAGO

      Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk:
      You rise to play and go to bed to work.
      

      EMILIA

      You shall not write my praise.
      

      IAGO

      No, let me not.
      

      DESDEMONA

      What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst
      praise me?
      

      IAGO

      O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
      For I am nothing, if not critical.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Come on assay. There's one gone to the harbour?
      

      IAGO

      Ay, madam.
      

      DESDEMONA

      I am not merry; but I do beguile
      The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
      Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
      

      IAGO

      I am about it; but indeed my invention
      Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize;
      It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours,
      And thus she is deliver'd.
      If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
      The one's for use, the other useth it.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Well praised! How if she be black and witty?
      

      IAGO

      If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
      She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Worse and worse.
      

      EMILIA

      How if fair and foolish?
      

      IAGO

      She never yet was foolish that was fair;
      For even her folly help'd her to an heir.
      

      DESDEMONA

      These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i'
      the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for
      her that's foul and foolish?
      

      IAGO

      There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
      But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
      

      DESDEMONA

      O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best.
      But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving
      woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her
      merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?
      

      IAGO

      She that was ever fair and never proud,
      Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
      Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay,
      Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,'
      She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
      Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,
      She that in wisdom never was so frail
      To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
      She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind,
      See suitors following and not look behind,
      She was a wight, if ever such wight were,--
      

      DESDEMONA

      To do what?
      

      IAGO

      To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
      

      DESDEMONA

      O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn
      of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say
      you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal
      counsellor?
      

      CASSIO

      He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in
      the soldier than in the scholar.
      

      IAGO

      Aside
      He takes her by the palm: ay, well said,
      whisper: with as little a web as this will I
      ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon
      her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.
      You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as
      these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had
      been better you had not kissed your three fingers so
      oft, which now again you are most apt to play the
      sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent
      courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers
      to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!
      The Moor! I know his trumpet.
      

      CASSIO

      'Tis truly so.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Let's meet him and receive him.
      

      CASSIO

      Lo, where he comes!
      

      Enter OTHELLO and Attendants

      OTHELLO

      O my fair warrior!
      

      DESDEMONA

      My dear Othello!
      

      OTHELLO

      It gives me wonder great as my content
      To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
      If after every tempest come such calms,
      May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
      And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
      Olympus-high and duck again as low
      As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
      'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
      My soul hath her content so absolute
      That not another comfort like to this
      Succeeds in unknown fate.
      

      DESDEMONA

      The heavens forbid
      But that our loves and comforts should increase,
      Even as our days do grow!
      

      OTHELLO

      Amen to that, sweet powers!
      I cannot speak enough of this content;
      It stops me here; it is too much of joy:
      And this, and this, the greatest discords be
      That e'er our hearts shall make!
      

      IAGO

      Aside
      O, you are well tuned now!
      But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
      As honest as I am.
      

      OTHELLO

      Come, let us to the castle.
      News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks
      are drown'd.
      How does my old acquaintance of this isle?
      Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;
      I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
      I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
      In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago,
      Go to the bay and disembark my coffers:
      Bring thou the master to the citadel;
      He is a good one, and his worthiness
      Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
      Once more, well met at Cyprus.
      

      Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants

      IAGO

      Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come
      hither. If thou be'st valiant,-- as, they say, base
      men being in love have then a nobility in their
      natures more than is native to them--list me. The
      lieutenant tonight watches on the court of
      guard:--first, I must tell thee this--Desdemona is
      directly in love with him.
      

      RODERIGO

      With him! why, 'tis not possible.
      

      IAGO

      Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
      Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor,
      but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies:
      and will she love him still for prating? let not
      thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed;
      and what delight shall she have to look on the
      devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of
      sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to
      give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour,
      sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which
      the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these
      required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will
      find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge,
      disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will
      instruct her in it and compel her to some second
      choice. Now, sir, this granted,--as it is a most
      pregnant and unforced position--who stands so
      eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio
      does? a knave very voluble; no further
      conscionable than in putting on the mere form of
      civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing
      of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why,
      none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a
      finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and
      counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never
      present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the
      knave is handsome, young, and hath all those
      requisites in him that folly and green minds look
      after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman
      hath found him already.
      

      RODERIGO

      I cannot believe that in her; she's full of
      most blessed condition.
      

      IAGO

      Blessed fig's-end! the wine she drinks is made of
      grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never
      have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou
      not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst
      not mark that?
      

      RODERIGO

      Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.
      

      IAGO

      Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue
      to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met
      so near with their lips that their breaths embraced
      together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these
      mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes
      the master and main exercise, the incorporate
      conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I
      have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night;
      for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows
      you not. I'll not be far from you: do you find
      some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking
      too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what
      other course you please, which the time shall more
      favourably minister.
      

      RODERIGO

      Well.
      

      IAGO

      Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply
      may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for
      even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to
      mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true
      taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So
      shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by
      the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the
      impediment most profitably removed, without the
      which there were no expectation of our prosperity.
      

      RODERIGO

      I will do this, if I can bring it to any
      opportunity.
      

      IAGO

      I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel:
      I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.
      

      RODERIGO

      Adieu.
      

      Exit

      IAGO

      That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
      That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit:
      The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
      Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,
      And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona
      A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;
      Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
      I stand accountant for as great a sin,
      But partly led to diet my revenge,
      For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
      Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof
      Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
      And nothing can or shall content my soul
      Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife,
      Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
      At least into a jealousy so strong
      That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
      If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash
      For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
      I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
      Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb--
      For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too--
      Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.
      For making him egregiously an ass
      And practising upon his peace and quiet
      Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused:
      Knavery's plain face is never seen tin used.
      

      Exit

   2. SCENE II. A street.

      Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People following

      Herald

      It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant
      general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived,
      importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet,
      every man put himself into triumph; some to dance,
      some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and
      revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these
      beneficial news, it is the celebration of his
      nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be
      proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full
      liberty of feasting from this present hour of five
      till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the
      isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!
      

      Exeunt

   3. SCENE III. A hall in the castle.

      Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants

      OTHELLO

      Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:
      Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
      Not to outsport discretion.
      

      CASSIO

      Iago hath direction what to do;
      But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
      Will I look to't.
      

      OTHELLO

      Iago is most honest.
      Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest
      Let me have speech with you.
      Come, my dear love,
      The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
      That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
      Good night.
      

      Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants

      Enter IAGO

      CASSIO

      Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.
      

      IAGO

      Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the
      clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love
      of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame:
      he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and
      she is sport for Jove.
      

      CASSIO

      She's a most exquisite lady.
      

      IAGO

      And, I'll warrant her, fun of game.
      

      CASSIO

      Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.
      

      IAGO

      What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of
      provocation.
      

      CASSIO

      An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.
      

      IAGO

      And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
      

      CASSIO

      She is indeed perfection.
      

      IAGO

      Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I
      have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace
      of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to
      the health of black Othello.
      

      CASSIO

      Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and
      unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish
      courtesy would invent some other custom of
      entertainment.
      

      IAGO

      O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for
      you.
      

      CASSIO

      I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was
      craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation
      it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity,
      and dare not task my weakness with any more.
      

      IAGO

      What, man! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants
      desire it.
      

      CASSIO

      Where are they?
      

      IAGO

      Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.
      

      CASSIO

      I'll do't; but it dislikes me.
      

      Exit

      IAGO

      If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
      With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
      He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
      As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,
      Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
      To Desdemona hath to-night caroused
      Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch:
      Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,
      That hold their honours in a wary distance,
      The very elements of this warlike isle,
      Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,
      And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards,
      Am I to put our Cassio in some action
      That may offend the isle.--But here they come:
      If consequence do but approve my dream,
      My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
      

      Re-enter CASSIO; with him MONTANO and Gentlemen; servants following with wine

      CASSIO

      'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.
      

      MONTANO

      Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am
      a soldier.
      

      IAGO

      Some wine, ho!
      And let me the canakin clink, clink;
      And let me the canakin clink
      A soldier's a man;
      A life's but a span;
      Why, then, let a soldier drink.
      Some wine, boys!
      

      CASSIO

      'Fore God, an excellent song.
      

      IAGO

      I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are
      most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and
      your swag-bellied Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing
      to your English.
      

      CASSIO

      Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?
      

      IAGO

      Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead
      drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he
      gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle
      can be filled.
      

      CASSIO

      To the health of our general!
      

      MONTANO

      I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice.
      

      IAGO

      O sweet England!
      King Stephen was a worthy peer,
      His breeches cost him but a crown;
      He held them sixpence all too dear,
      With that he call'd the tailor lown.
      He was a wight of high renown,
      And thou art but of low degree:
      'Tis pride that pulls the country down;
      Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
      Some wine, ho!
      

      CASSIO

      Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.
      

      IAGO

      Will you hear't again?
      

      CASSIO

      No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that
      does those things. Well, God's above all; and there
      be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
      

      IAGO

      It's true, good lieutenant.
      

      CASSIO

      For mine own part,--no offence to the general, nor
      any man of quality,--I hope to be saved.
      

      IAGO

      And so do I too, lieutenant.
      

      CASSIO

      Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the
      lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's
      have no more of this; let's to our affairs.--Forgive
      us our sins!--Gentlemen, let's look to our business.
      Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my
      ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left:
      I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and
      speak well enough.
      

      All

      Excellent well.
      

      CASSIO

      Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk.
      

      Exit

      MONTANO

      To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch.
      

      IAGO

      You see this fellow that is gone before;
      He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
      And give direction: and do but see his vice;
      'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
      The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him.
      I fear the trust Othello puts him in.
      On some odd time of his infirmity,
      Will shake this island.
      

      MONTANO

      But is he often thus?
      

      IAGO

      'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
      He'll watch the horologe a double set,
      If drink rock not his cradle.
      

      MONTANO

      It were well
      The general were put in mind of it.
      Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature
      Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
      And looks not on his evils: is not this true?
      

      Enter RODERIGO

      IAGO

      Aside to him
      How now, Roderigo!
      I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.
      

      Exit RODERIGO

      MONTANO

      And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor
      Should hazard such a place as his own second
      With one of an ingraft infirmity:
      It were an honest action to say
      So to the Moor.
      

      IAGO

      Not I, for this fair island:
      I do love Cassio well; and would do much
      To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise?
      

      Cry within: 'Help! help!'

      Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO

      CASSIO

      You rogue! you rascal!
      

      MONTANO

      What's the matter, lieutenant?
      

      CASSIO

      A knave teach me my duty!
      I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.
      

      RODERIGO

      Beat me!
      

      CASSIO

      Dost thou prate, rogue?
      

      Striking RODERIGO

      MONTANO

      Nay, good lieutenant;
      I pray you, sir, hold your hand.
      

      CASSIO

      Let me go, sir,
      Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.
      

      MONTANO

      Come, come,
      you're drunk.
      

      CASSIO

      Drunk!
      

      They fight

      IAGO

      Aside to RODERIGO
      Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny.
      Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;--
      Help, ho!--Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,--sir;
      Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed!
      Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho!
      The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold!
      You will be shamed for ever.
      

      Re-enter OTHELLO and Attendants

      OTHELLO

      What is the matter here?
      

      MONTANO

      'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.
      

      Faints

      OTHELLO

      Hold, for your lives!
      

      IAGO

      Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir--Montano,--gentlemen,--
      Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
      Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!
      

      OTHELLO

      Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
      Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that
      Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
      For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
      He that stirs next to carve for his own rage
      Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.
      Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle
      From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?
      Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
      Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.
      

      IAGO

      I do not know: friends all but now, even now,
      In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
      Devesting them for bed; and then, but now--
      As if some planet had unwitted men--
      Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
      In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
      Any beginning to this peevish odds;
      And would in action glorious I had lost
      Those legs that brought me to a part of it!
      

      OTHELLO

      How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?
      

      CASSIO

      I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.
      

      OTHELLO

      Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;
      The gravity and stillness of your youth
      The world hath noted, and your name is great
      In mouths of wisest censure: what's the matter,
      That you unlace your reputation thus
      And spend your rich opinion for the name
      Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.
      

      MONTANO

      Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:
      Your officer, Iago, can inform you,--
      While I spare speech, which something now
      offends me,--
      Of all that I do know: nor know I aught
      By me that's said or done amiss this night;
      Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
      And to defend ourselves it be a sin
      When violence assails us.
      

      OTHELLO

      Now, by heaven,
      My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
      And passion, having my best judgment collied,
      Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,
      Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
      Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
      How this foul rout began, who set it on;
      And he that is approved in this offence,
      Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
      Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,
      Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
      To manage private and domestic quarrel,
      In night, and on the court and guard of safety!
      'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't?
      

      MONTANO

      If partially affined, or leagued in office,
      Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
      Thou art no soldier.
      

      IAGO

      Touch me not so near:
      I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
      Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;
      Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
      Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
      Montano and myself being in speech,
      There comes a fellow crying out for help:
      And Cassio following him with determined sword,
      To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
      Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:
      Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
      Lest by his clamour--as it so fell out--
      The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
      Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather
      For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
      And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night
      I ne'er might say before. When I came back--
      For this was brief--I found them close together,
      At blow and thrust; even as again they were
      When you yourself did part them.
      More of this matter cannot I report:
      But men are men; the best sometimes forget:
      Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
      As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
      Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received
      From him that fled some strange indignity,
      Which patience could not pass.
      

      OTHELLO

      I know, Iago,
      Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
      Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee
      But never more be officer of mine.
      Look, if my gentle love be not raised up!
      I'll make thee an example.
      

      DESDEMONA

      What's the matter?
      

      OTHELLO

      All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed.
      Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:
      Lead him off.
      Iago, look with care about the town,
      And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
      Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life
      To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
      

      Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO

      IAGO

      What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
      

      CASSIO

      Ay, past all surgery.
      

      IAGO

      Marry, heaven forbid!
      

      CASSIO

      Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost
      my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of
      myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,
      Iago, my reputation!
      

      IAGO

      As I am an honest man, I thought you had received
      some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than
      in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false
      imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without
      deserving: you have lost no reputation at all,
      unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man!
      there are ways to recover the general again: you
      are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in
      policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his
      offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue
      to him again, and he's yours.
      

      CASSIO

      I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so
      good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so
      indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot?
      and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse
      fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible
      spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,
      let us call thee devil!
      

      IAGO

      What was he that you followed with your sword? What
      had he done to you?
      

      CASSIO

      I know not.
      

      IAGO

      Is't possible?
      

      CASSIO

      I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly;
      a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men
      should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away
      their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance
      revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!
      

      IAGO

      Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus
      recovered?
      

      CASSIO

      It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place
      to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me
      another, to make me frankly despise myself.
      

      IAGO

      Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time,
      the place, and the condition of this country
      stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen;
      but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.
      

      CASSIO

      I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me
      I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra,
      such an answer would stop them all. To be now a
      sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a
      beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is
      unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.
      

      IAGO

      Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature,
      if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.
      And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.
      

      CASSIO

      I have well approved it, sir. I drunk!
      

      IAGO

      You or any man living may be drunk! at a time, man.
      I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife
      is now the general: may say so in this respect, for
      that he hath devoted and given up himself to the
      contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and
      graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune
      her help to put you in your place again: she is of
      so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition,
      she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more
      than she is requested: this broken joint between
      you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my
      fortunes against any lay worth naming, this
      crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.
      

      CASSIO

      You advise me well.
      

      IAGO

      I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.
      

      CASSIO

      I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will
      beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me:
      I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here.
      

      IAGO

      You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I
      must to the watch.
      

      CASSIO

      Good night, honest Iago.
      

      Exit

      IAGO

      And what's he then that says I play the villain?
      When this advice is free I give and honest,
      Probal to thinking and indeed the course
      To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy
      The inclining Desdemona to subdue
      In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful
      As the free elements. And then for her
      To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism,
      All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
      His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
      That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
      Even as her appetite shall play the god
      With his weak function. How am I then a villain
      To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
      Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
      When devils will the blackest sins put on,
      They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,
      As I do now: for whiles this honest fool
      Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes
      And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
      I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,
      That she repeals him for her body's lust;
      And by how much she strives to do him good,
      She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
      So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
      And out of her own goodness make the net
      That shall enmesh them all.
      How now, Roderigo!
      

      RODERIGO

      I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that
      hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is
      almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well
      cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall
      have so much experience for my pains, and so, with
      no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.
      

      IAGO

      How poor are they that have not patience!
      What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
      Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
      And wit depends on dilatory time.
      Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee.
      And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio:
      Though other things grow fair against the sun,
      Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:
      Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning;
      Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
      Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
      Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
      Nay, get thee gone.
      Two things are to be done:
      My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
      I'll set her on;
      Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,
      And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
      Soliciting his wife: ay, that's the way
      Dull not device by coldness and delay.
      

      Exit

3. ACT III

   1. SCENE I. Before the castle.

      Enter CASSIO and some Musicians

      CASSIO

      Masters, play here; I will content your pains;
      Something that's brief; and bid 'Good morrow, general.'
      

      Music

      Enter Clown

      Clown

      Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples,
      that they speak i' the nose thus?
      

      First Musician

      How, sir, how!
      

      Clown

      Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?
      

      First Musician

      Ay, marry, are they, sir.
      

      Clown

      O, thereby hangs a tail.
      

      First Musician

      Whereby hangs a tale, sir?
      

      Clown

      Marry. sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know.
      But, masters, here's money for you: and the general
      so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's
      sake, to make no more noise with it.
      

      First Musician

      Well, sir, we will not.
      

      Clown

      If you have any music that may not be heard, to't
      again: but, as they say to hear music the general
      does not greatly care.
      

      First Musician

      We have none such, sir.
      

      Clown

      Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away:
      go; vanish into air; away!
      

      Exeunt Musicians

      CASSIO

      Dost thou hear, my honest friend?
      

      Clown

      No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.
      

      CASSIO

      Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece
      of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends
      the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's
      one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech:
      wilt thou do this?
      

      Clown

      She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I
      shall seem to notify unto her.
      

      CASSIO

      Do, good my friend.
      In happy time, Iago.
      

      IAGO

      You have not been a-bed, then?
      

      CASSIO

      Why, no; the day had broke
      Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,
      To send in to your wife: my suit to her
      Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
      Procure me some access.
      

      IAGO

      I'll send her to you presently;
      And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor
      Out of the way, that your converse and business
      May be more free.
      

      CASSIO

      I humbly thank you for't.
      I never knew
      A Florentine more kind and honest.
      

      Enter EMILIA

      EMILIA

      Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry
      For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
      The general and his wife are talking of it;
      And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies,
      That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus,
      And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom
      He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you
      And needs no other suitor but his likings
      To take the safest occasion by the front
      To bring you in again.
      

      CASSIO

      Yet, I beseech you,
      If you think fit, or that it may be done,
      Give me advantage of some brief discourse
      With Desdemona alone.
      

      EMILIA

      Pray you, come in;
      I will bestow you where you shall have time
      To speak your bosom freely.
      

      CASSIO

      I am much bound to you.
      

      Exeunt

   2. SCENE II. A room in the castle.

      Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Gentlemen

      OTHELLO

      These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
      And by him do my duties to the senate:
      That done, I will be walking on the works;
      Repair there to me.
      

      IAGO

      Well, my good lord, I'll do't.
      

      OTHELLO

      This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't?
      

      Gentleman

      We'll wait upon your lordship.
      

      Exeunt

   3. SCENE III. The garden of the castle.

      Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA

      DESDEMONA

      Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
      All my abilities in thy behalf.
      

      EMILIA

      Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband,
      As if the case were his.
      

      DESDEMONA

      O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio,
      But I will have my lord and you again
      As friendly as you were.
      

      CASSIO

      Bounteous madam,
      Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
      He's never any thing but your true servant.
      

      DESDEMONA

      I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord:
      You have known him long; and be you well assured
      He shall in strangeness stand no further off
      Than in a polite distance.
      

      CASSIO

      Ay, but, lady,
      That policy may either last so long,
      Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
      Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
      That, I being absent and my place supplied,
      My general will forget my love and service.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Do not doubt that; before Emilia here
      I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,
      If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
      To the last article: my lord shall never rest;
      I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience;
      His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
      I'll intermingle every thing he does
      With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio;
      For thy solicitor shall rather die
      Than give thy cause away.
      

      EMILIA

      Madam, here comes my lord.
      

      CASSIO

      Madam, I'll take my leave.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Why, stay, and hear me speak.
      

      CASSIO

      Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,
      Unfit for mine own purposes.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Well, do your discretion.
      

      Exit CASSIO

      Enter OTHELLO and IAGO

      IAGO

      Ha! I like not that.
      

      OTHELLO

      What dost thou say?
      

      IAGO

      Nothing, my lord: or if--I know not what.
      

      OTHELLO

      Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?
      

      IAGO

      Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it,
      That he would steal away so guilty-like,
      Seeing you coming.
      

      OTHELLO

      I do believe 'twas he.
      

      DESDEMONA

      How now, my lord!
      I have been talking with a suitor here,
      A man that languishes in your displeasure.
      

      OTHELLO

      Who is't you mean?
      

      DESDEMONA

      Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,
      If I have any grace or power to move you,
      His present reconciliation take;
      For if he be not one that truly loves you,
      That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
      I have no judgment in an honest face:
      I prithee, call him back.
      

      OTHELLO

      Went he hence now?
      

      DESDEMONA

      Ay, sooth; so humbled
      That he hath left part of his grief with me,
      To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.
      

      OTHELLO

      Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time.
      

      DESDEMONA

      But shall't be shortly?
      

      OTHELLO

      The sooner, sweet, for you.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Shall't be to-night at supper?
      

      OTHELLO

      No, not to-night.
      

      DESDEMONA

      To-morrow dinner, then?
      

      OTHELLO

      I shall not dine at home;
      I meet the captains at the citadel.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;
      On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn:
      I prithee, name the time, but let it not
      Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;
      And yet his trespass, in our common reason--
      Save that, they say, the wars must make examples
      Out of their best--is not almost a fault
      To incur a private cheque. When shall he come?
      Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul,
      What you would ask me, that I should deny,
      Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
      That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time,
      When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
      Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do
      To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,--
      

      OTHELLO

      Prithee, no more: let him come when he will;
      I will deny thee nothing.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Why, this is not a boon;
      'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
      Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
      Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
      To your own person: nay, when I have a suit
      Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
      It shall be full of poise and difficult weight
      And fearful to be granted.
      

      OTHELLO

      I will deny thee nothing:
      Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
      To leave me but a little to myself.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord.
      

      OTHELLO

      Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;
      Whate'er you be, I am obedient.
      

      Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA

      OTHELLO

      Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
      But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
      Chaos is come again.
      

      IAGO

      My noble lord--
      

      OTHELLO

      What dost thou say, Iago?
      

      IAGO

      Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
      Know of your love?
      

      OTHELLO

      He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?
      

      IAGO

      But for a satisfaction of my thought;
      No further harm.
      

      OTHELLO

      Why of thy thought, Iago?
      

      IAGO

      I did not think he had been acquainted with her.
      

      OTHELLO

      O, yes; and went between us very oft.
      

      IAGO

      Indeed!
      

      OTHELLO

      Indeed! ay, indeed: discern'st thou aught in that?
      Is he not honest?
      

      IAGO

      Honest, my lord!
      

      OTHELLO

      Honest! ay, honest.
      

      IAGO

      My lord, for aught I know.
      

      OTHELLO

      What dost thou think?
      

      IAGO

      Think, my lord!
      

      OTHELLO

      Think, my lord!
      By heaven, he echoes me,
      As if there were some monster in his thought
      Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something:
      I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that,
      When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?
      And when I told thee he was of my counsel
      In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed!'
      And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
      As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
      Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,
      Show me thy thought.
      

      IAGO

      My lord, you know I love you.
      

      OTHELLO

      I think thou dost;
      And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty,
      And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath,
      Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:
      For such things in a false disloyal knave
      Are tricks of custom, but in a man that's just
      They are close delations, working from the heart
      That passion cannot rule.
      

      IAGO

      For Michael Cassio,
      I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.
      

      OTHELLO

      I think so too.
      

      IAGO

      Men should be what they seem;
      Or those that be not, would they might seem none!
      

      OTHELLO

      Certain, men should be what they seem.
      

      IAGO

      Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man.
      

      OTHELLO

      Nay, yet there's more in this:
      I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
      As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
      The worst of words.
      

      IAGO

      Good my lord, pardon me:
      Though I am bound to every act of duty,
      I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
      Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false;
      As where's that palace whereinto foul things
      Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
      But some uncleanly apprehensions
      Keep leets and law-days and in session sit
      With meditations lawful?
      

      OTHELLO

      Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
      If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear
      A stranger to thy thoughts.
      

      IAGO

      I do beseech you--
      Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,
      As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
      To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
      Shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom yet,
      From one that so imperfectly conceits,
      Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble
      Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
      It were not for your quiet nor your good,
      Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
      To let you know my thoughts.
      

      OTHELLO

      What dost thou mean?
      

      IAGO

      Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
      Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
      Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
      'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands:
      But he that filches from me my good name
      Robs me of that which not enriches him
      And makes me poor indeed.
      

      OTHELLO

      By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.
      

      IAGO

      You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
      Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
      

      OTHELLO

      Ha!
      

      IAGO

      O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
      It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
      The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss
      Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
      But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
      Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!
      

      OTHELLO

      O misery!
      

      IAGO

      Poor and content is rich and rich enough,
      But riches fineless is as poor as winter
      To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
      Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
      From jealousy!
      

      OTHELLO

      Why, why is this?
      Think'st thou I'ld make a lie of jealousy,
      To follow still the changes of the moon
      With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt
      Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat,
      When I shall turn the business of my soul
      To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
      Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous
      To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
      Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well;
      Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:
      Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
      The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;
      For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;
      I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
      And on the proof, there is no more but this,--
      Away at once with love or jealousy!
      

      IAGO

      I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason
      To show the love and duty that I bear you
      With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,
      Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
      Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
      Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure:
      I would not have your free and noble nature,
      Out of self-bounty, be abused; look to't:
      I know our country disposition well;
      In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
      They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience
      Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown.
      

      OTHELLO

      Dost thou say so?
      

      IAGO

      She did deceive her father, marrying you;
      And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks,
      She loved them most.
      

      OTHELLO

      And so she did.
      

      IAGO

      Why, go to then;
      She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
      To seal her father's eyes up close as oak-
      He thought 'twas witchcraft--but I am much to blame;
      I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
      For too much loving you.
      

      OTHELLO

      I am bound to thee for ever.
      

      IAGO

      I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.
      

      OTHELLO

      Not a jot, not a jot.
      

      IAGO

      I' faith, I fear it has.
      I hope you will consider what is spoke
      Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved:
      I am to pray you not to strain my speech
      To grosser issues nor to larger reach
      Than to suspicion.
      

      OTHELLO

      I will not.
      

      IAGO

      Should you do so, my lord,
      My speech should fall into such vile success
      As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend--
      My lord, I see you're moved.
      

      OTHELLO

      No, not much moved:
      I do not think but Desdemona's honest.
      

      IAGO

      Long live she so! and long live you to think so!
      

      OTHELLO

      And yet, how nature erring from itself,--
      

      IAGO

      Ay, there's the point: as--to be bold with you--
      Not to affect many proposed matches
      Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
      Whereto we see in all things nature tends--
      Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,
      Foul disproportion thoughts unnatural.
      But pardon me; I do not in position
      Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear
      Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
      May fall to match you with her country forms
      And happily repent.
      

      OTHELLO

      Farewell, farewell:
      If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
      Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago:
      

      IAGO

      Going
      My lord, I take my leave.
      

      OTHELLO

      Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless
      Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
      

      IAGO

      Returning
      My lord, I would I might entreat
      your honour
      To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
      Though it be fit that Cassio have his place,
      For sure, he fills it up with great ability,
      Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
      You shall by that perceive him and his means:
      Note, if your lady strain his entertainment
      With any strong or vehement importunity;
      Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
      Let me be thought too busy in my fears--
      As worthy cause I have to fear I am--
      And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.
      

      OTHELLO

      Fear not my government.
      

      IAGO

      I once more take my leave.
      

      Exit

      OTHELLO

      This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
      And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
      Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
      Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
      I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind,
      To pray at fortune. Haply, for I am black
      And have not those soft parts of conversation
      That chamberers have, or for I am declined
      Into the vale of years,--yet that's not much--
      She's gone. I am abused; and my relief
      Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
      That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
      And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
      And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
      Than keep a corner in the thing I love
      For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones;
      Prerogatived are they less than the base;
      'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
      Even then this forked plague is fated to us
      When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:
      If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!
      I'll not believe't.
      

      DESDEMONA

      How now, my dear Othello!
      Your dinner, and the generous islanders
      By you invited, do attend your presence.
      

      OTHELLO

      I am to blame.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Why do you speak so faintly?
      Are you not well?
      

      OTHELLO

      I have a pain upon my forehead here.
      

      DESDEMONA

      'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again:
      Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
      It will be well.
      

      OTHELLO

      Your napkin is too little:
      Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.
      

      DESDEMONA

      I am very sorry that you are not well.
      

      Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA

      EMILIA

      I am glad I have found this napkin:
      This was her first remembrance from the Moor:
      My wayward husband hath a hundred times
      Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token,
      For he conjured her she should ever keep it,
      That she reserves it evermore about her
      To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
      And give't Iago: what he will do with it
      Heaven knows, not I;
      I nothing but to please his fantasy.
      

      Re-enter Iago

      IAGO

      How now! what do you here alone?
      

      EMILIA

      Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.
      

      IAGO

      A thing for me? it is a common thing--
      

      EMILIA

      Ha!
      

      IAGO

      To have a foolish wife.
      

      EMILIA

      O, is that all? What will you give me now
      For the same handkerchief?
      

      IAGO

      What handkerchief?
      

      EMILIA

      What handkerchief?
      Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
      That which so often you did bid me steal.
      

      IAGO

      Hast stol'n it from her?
      

      EMILIA

      No, 'faith; she let it drop by negligence.
      And, to the advantage, I, being here, took't up.
      Look, here it is.
      

      IAGO

      A good wench; give it me.
      

      EMILIA

      What will you do with 't, that you have been
      so earnest
      To have me filch it?
      

      IAGO

      Snatching it
      Why, what's that to you?
      

      EMILIA

      If it be not for some purpose of import,
      Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad
      When she shall lack it.
      

      IAGO

      Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it.
      Go, leave me.
      I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
      And let him find it. Trifles light as air
      Are to the jealous confirmations strong
      As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
      The Moor already changes with my poison:
      Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons.
      Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
      But with a little act upon the blood.
      Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so:
      Look, where he comes!
      Not poppy, nor mandragora,
      Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
      Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
      Which thou owedst yesterday.
      

      OTHELLO

      Ha! ha! false to me?
      

      IAGO

      Why, how now, general! no more of that.
      

      OTHELLO

      Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:
      I swear 'tis better to be much abused
      Than but to know't a little.
      

      IAGO

      How now, my lord!
      

      OTHELLO

      What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?
      I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
      I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
      I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:
      He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
      Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.
      

      IAGO

      I am sorry to hear this.
      

      OTHELLO

      I had been happy, if the general camp,
      Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,
      So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever
      Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
      Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
      That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
      Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
      The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
      The royal banner, and all quality,
      Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!
      And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
      The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit,
      Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!
      

      IAGO

      Is't possible, my lord?
      

      OTHELLO

      Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,
      Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof:
      Or by the worth of man's eternal soul,
      Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
      Than answer my waked wrath!
      

      IAGO

      Is't come to this?
      

      OTHELLO

      Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it,
      That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
      To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!
      

      IAGO

      My noble lord,--
      

      OTHELLO

      If thou dost slander her and torture me,
      Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
      On horror's head horrors accumulate;
      Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
      For nothing canst thou to damnation add
      Greater than that.
      

      IAGO

      O grace! O heaven forgive me!
      Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?
      God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched fool.
      That livest to make thine honesty a vice!
      O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
      To be direct and honest is not safe.
      I thank you for this profit; and from hence
      I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.
      

      OTHELLO

      Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest.
      

      IAGO

      I should be wise, for honesty's a fool
      And loses that it works for.
      

      OTHELLO

      By the world,
      I think my wife be honest and think she is not;
      I think that thou art just and think thou art not.
      I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
      As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black
      As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
      Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
      I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!
      

      IAGO

      I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:
      I do repent me that I put it to you.
      You would be satisfied?
      

      OTHELLO

      Would! nay, I will.
      

      IAGO

      And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord?
      Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on--
      Behold her topp'd?
      

      OTHELLO

      Death and damnation! O!
      

      IAGO

      It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
      To bring them to that prospect: damn them then,
      If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
      More than their own! What then? how then?
      What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?
      It is impossible you should see this,
      Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
      As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
      As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
      If imputation and strong circumstances,
      Which lead directly to the door of truth,
      Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.
      

      OTHELLO

      Give me a living reason she's disloyal.
      

      IAGO

      I do not like the office:
      But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,
      Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,
      I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
      And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
      I could not sleep.
      There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
      That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
      One of this kind is Cassio:
      In sleep I heard him say 'Sweet Desdemona,
      Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;'
      And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
      Cry 'O sweet creature!' and then kiss me hard,
      As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots
      That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
      Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then
      Cried 'Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!'
      

      OTHELLO

      O monstrous! monstrous!
      

      IAGO

      Nay, this was but his dream.
      

      OTHELLO

      But this denoted a foregone conclusion:
      'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.
      

      IAGO

      And this may help to thicken other proofs
      That do demonstrate thinly.
      

      OTHELLO

      I'll tear her all to pieces.
      

      IAGO

      Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done;
      She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,
      Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
      Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?
      

      OTHELLO

      I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.
      

      IAGO

      I know not that; but such a handkerchief--
      I am sure it was your wife's--did I to-day
      See Cassio wipe his beard with.
      

      OTHELLO

      If it be that--
      

      IAGO

      If it be that, or any that was hers,
      It speaks against her with the other proofs.
      

      OTHELLO

      O, that the slave had forty thousand lives!
      One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.
      Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago;
      All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven.
      'Tis gone.
      Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!
      Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
      To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
      For 'tis of aspics' tongues!
      

      IAGO

      Yet be content.
      

      OTHELLO

      O, blood, blood, blood!
      

      IAGO

      Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change.
      

      OTHELLO

      Never, Iago: Like to the Pontic sea,
      Whose icy current and compulsive course
      Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
      To the Propontic and the Hellespont,
      Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
      Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
      Till that a capable and wide revenge
      Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven,
      In the due reverence of a sacred vow
      I here engage my words.
      

      IAGO

      Do not rise yet.
      Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
      You elements that clip us round about,
      Witness that here Iago doth give up
      The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
      To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command,
      And to obey shall be in me remorse,
      What bloody business ever.
      

      They rise

      OTHELLO

      I greet thy love,
      Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
      And will upon the instant put thee to't:
      Within these three days let me hear thee say
      That Cassio's not alive.
      

      IAGO

      My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:
      But let her live.
      

      OTHELLO

      Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!
      Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,
      To furnish me with some swift means of death
      For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.
      

      IAGO

      I am your own for ever.
      

      Exeunt

   4. SCENE IV. Before the castle.

      Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown

      DESDEMONA

      Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?
      

      Clown

      I dare not say he lies any where.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Why, man?
      

      Clown

      He's a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies,
      is stabbing.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Go to: where lodges he?
      

      Clown

      To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Can any thing be made of this?
      

      Clown

      I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a
      lodging and say he lies here or he lies there, were
      to lie in mine own throat.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?
      

      Clown

      I will catechise the world for him; that is, make
      questions, and by them answer.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have
      moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well.
      

      Clown

      To do this is within the compass of man's wit: and
      therefore I will attempt the doing it.
      

      Exit

      DESDEMONA

      Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?
      

      EMILIA

      I know not, madam.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
      Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor
      Is true of mind and made of no such baseness
      As jealous creatures are, it were enough
      To put him to ill thinking.
      

      EMILIA

      Is he not jealous?
      

      DESDEMONA

      Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
      Drew all such humours from him.
      

      EMILIA

      Look, where he comes.
      

      DESDEMONA

      I will not leave him now till Cassio
      Be call'd to him.
      How is't with you, my lord
      

      OTHELLO

      Well, my good lady.
      O, hardness to dissemble!--
      How do you, Desdemona?
      

      DESDEMONA

      Well, my good lord.
      

      OTHELLO

      Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.
      

      DESDEMONA

      It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.
      

      OTHELLO

      This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:
      Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires
      A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
      Much castigation, exercise devout;
      For here's a young and sweating devil here,
      That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
      A frank one.
      

      DESDEMONA

      You may, indeed, say so;
      For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.
      

      OTHELLO

      A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;
      But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
      

      DESDEMONA

      I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.
      

      OTHELLO

      What promise, chuck?
      

      DESDEMONA

      I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
      

      OTHELLO

      I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;
      Lend me thy handkerchief.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Here, my lord.
      

      OTHELLO

      That which I gave you.
      

      DESDEMONA

      I have it not about me.
      

      OTHELLO

      Not?
      

      DESDEMONA

      No, indeed, my lord.
      

      OTHELLO

      That is a fault.
      That handkerchief
      Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
      She was a charmer, and could almost read
      The thoughts of people: she told her, while
      she kept it,
      'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father
      Entirely to her love, but if she lost it
      Or made gift of it, my father's eye
      Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt
      After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me;
      And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
      To give it her. I did so: and take heed on't;
      Make it a darling like your precious eye;
      To lose't or give't away were such perdition
      As nothing else could match.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Is't possible?
      

      OTHELLO

      'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it:
      A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
      The sun to course two hundred compasses,
      In her prophetic fury sew'd the work;
      The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk;
      And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful
      Conserved of maidens' hearts.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Indeed! is't true?
      

      OTHELLO

      Most veritable; therefore look to't well.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Then would to God that I had never seen't!
      

      OTHELLO

      Ha! wherefore?
      

      DESDEMONA

      Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
      

      OTHELLO

      Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out
      o' the way?
      

      DESDEMONA

      Heaven bless us!
      

      OTHELLO

      Say you?
      

      DESDEMONA

      It is not lost; but what an if it were?
      

      OTHELLO

      How!
      

      DESDEMONA

      I say, it is not lost.
      

      OTHELLO

      Fetch't, let me see't.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.
      This is a trick to put me from my suit:
      Pray you, let Cassio be received again.
      

      OTHELLO

      Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Come, come;
      You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
      

      OTHELLO

      The handkerchief!
      

      DESDEMONA

      I pray, talk me of Cassio.
      

      OTHELLO

      The handkerchief!
      

      DESDEMONA

      A man that all his time
      Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,
      Shared dangers with you,--
      

      OTHELLO

      The handkerchief!
      

      DESDEMONA

      In sooth, you are to blame.
      

      OTHELLO

      Away!
      

      Exit

      EMILIA

      Is not this man jealous?
      

      DESDEMONA

      I ne'er saw this before.
      Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
      I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
      

      EMILIA

      'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:
      They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
      To eat us hungerly, and when they are full,
      They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband!
      

      Enter CASSIO and IAGO

      IAGO

      There is no other way; 'tis she must do't:
      And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her.
      

      DESDEMONA

      How now, good Cassio! what's the news with you?
      

      CASSIO

      Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you
      That by your virtuous means I may again
      Exist, and be a member of his love
      Whom I with all the office of my heart
      Entirely honour: I would not be delay'd.
      If my offence be of such mortal kind
      That nor my service past, nor present sorrows,
      Nor purposed merit in futurity,
      Can ransom me into his love again,
      But to know so must be my benefit;
      So shall I clothe me in a forced content,
      And shut myself up in some other course,
      To fortune's alms.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio!
      My advocation is not now in tune;
      My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him,
      Were he in favour as in humour alter'd.
      So help me every spirit sanctified,
      As I have spoken for you all my best
      And stood within the blank of his displeasure
      For my free speech! you must awhile be patient:
      What I can do I will; and more I will
      Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.
      

      IAGO

      Is my lord angry?
      

      EMILIA

      He went hence but now,
      And certainly in strange unquietness.
      

      IAGO

      Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon,
      When it hath blown his ranks into the air,
      And, like the devil, from his very arm
      Puff'd his own brother:--and can he be angry?
      Something of moment then: I will go meet him:
      There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
      

      DESDEMONA

      I prithee, do so.
      Something, sure, of state,
      Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practise
      Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
      Hath puddled his clear spirit: and in such cases
      Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
      Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so;
      For let our finger ache, and it indues
      Our other healthful members even to that sense
      Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods,
      Nor of them look for such observances
      As fit the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia,
      I was, unhandsome warrior as I am,
      Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;
      But now I find I had suborn'd the witness,
      And he's indicted falsely.
      

      EMILIA

      Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think,
      And no conception nor no jealous toy
      Concerning you.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Alas the day! I never gave him cause.
      

      EMILIA

      But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
      They are not ever jealous for the cause,
      But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster
      Begot upon itself, born on itself.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind!
      

      EMILIA

      Lady, amen.
      

      DESDEMONA

      I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout:
      If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit
      And seek to effect it to my uttermost.
      

      CASSIO

      I humbly thank your ladyship.
      

      Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA

      Enter BIANCA

      BIANCA

      Save you, friend Cassio!
      

      CASSIO

      What make you from home?
      How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?
      I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.
      

      BIANCA

      And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
      What, keep a week away? seven days and nights?
      Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours,
      More tedious than the dial eight score times?
      O weary reckoning!
      

      CASSIO

      Pardon me, Bianca:
      I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd:
      But I shall, in a more continuate time,
      Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,
      Take me this work out.
      

      BIANCA

      O Cassio, whence came this?
      This is some token from a newer friend:
      To the felt absence now I feel a cause:
      Is't come to this? Well, well.
      

      CASSIO

      Go to, woman!
      Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
      From whence you have them. You are jealous now
      That this is from some mistress, some remembrance:
      No, in good troth, Bianca.
      

      BIANCA

      Why, whose is it?
      

      CASSIO

      I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber.
      I like the work well: ere it be demanded--
      As like enough it will--I'ld have it copied:
      Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time.
      

      BIANCA

      Leave you! wherefore?
      

      CASSIO

      I do attend here on the general;
      And think it no addition, nor my wish,
      To have him see me woman'd.
      

      BIANCA

      Why, I pray you?
      

      CASSIO

      Not that I love you not.
      

      BIANCA

      But that you do not love me.
      I pray you, bring me on the way a little,
      And say if I shall see you soon at night.
      

      CASSIO

      'Tis but a little way that I can bring you;
      For I attend here: but I'll see you soon.
      

      BIANCA

      'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced.
      

      Exeunt

4. ACT IV

   1. SCENE I. Cyprus. Before the castle.

      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, 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 any thing?
      

      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! that's fulsome.
      --Handkerchief--confessions--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!--
      

      Falls in a trance

      IAGO

      Work on,
      My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught;
      And many worthy and chaste dames even thus,
      All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord!
      My lord, I say! Othello!
      How now, Cassio!
      

      CASSIO

      What's the matter?
      

      IAGO

      My lord is fall'n 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.
      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 she 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 gesture. 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?
      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:
      As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;
      And his unbookish jealousy must construe
      Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures and light behavior,
      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 Bianco's power,
      How quickly should you speed!
      

      CASSIO

      Alas, poor caitiff!
      

      OTHELLO

      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

      Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.
      

      IAGO

      Do you hear, Cassio?
      

      OTHELLO

      Now he importunes him
      To tell it o'er: go to; well said, well said.
      

      IAGO

      She gives it out that you shall marry hey:
      Do you intend it?
      

      CASSIO

      Ha, ha, ha!
      

      OTHELLO

      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

      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

      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

      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

      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

      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.
      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

      By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!
      

      BIANCA

      An you'll come to supper to-night, you may; an 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 so.
      

      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

      Advancing
      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 given 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 to-night;
      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.
      What trumpet is that same?
      

      IAGO

      Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico
      Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him.
      

      Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants

      LODOVICO

      Save you, worthy general!
      

      OTHELLO

      With all my heart, sir.
      

      LODOVICO

      The duke and senators of Venice greet you.
      

      Gives him a letter

      OTHELLO

      I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
      

      Opens the letter, and reads

      DESDEMONA

      And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?
      

      IAGO

      I am very glad to see you, signior
      Welcome to Cyprus.
      

      LODOVICO

      I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?
      

      IAGO

      Lives, sir.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord
      An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.
      

      OTHELLO

      Are you sure of that?
      

      DESDEMONA

      My lord?
      

      OTHELLO

      Reads
      '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
      To 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

      May be the letter moved him;
      For, as I think, they do command him home,
      Deputing Cassio in his government.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Trust me, I am glad on't.
      

      OTHELLO

      Indeed!
      

      DESDEMONA

      My lord?
      

      OTHELLO

      I am glad to see you mad.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Why, sweet Othello,--
      

      OTHELLO

      Striking her
      Devil!
      

      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.
      

      Going

      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!
      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.
      

      Exeunt

   2. SCENE II. A room in the castle.

      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' the 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.
      She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd
      That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
      A closet lock and key of villanous secrets
      And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't.
      

      Enter DESDEMONA with 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 any body 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 damn'd:
      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

      O Desdemona! 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,
      Why, I have lost him too.
      

      OTHELLO

      Had it pleased heaven
      To try me with affliction; had they rain'd
      All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head.
      Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
      Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
      I should have found in some place of my soul
      A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me
      A fixed figure for the time of scorn
      To point his slow unmoving finger at!
      Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
      But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
      Where either I must live, or bear no life;
      The fountain 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-lipp'd 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 hush'd 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.
      You, mistress,
      That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
      And keep the gate of hell!
      You, you, ay, you!
      We have done our course; there's money for your pains:
      I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel.
      

      Exit

      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 small'st opinion on my least misuse?
      

      Re-enter EMILIA with 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's the matter, lady?
      

      EMILIA

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

      DESDEMONA

      Am I that name, Iago?
      

      IAGO

      What name, fair lady?
      

      DESDEMONA

      Such as she says my lord did say I was.
      

      EMILIA

      He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink
      Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.
      

      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 and her friends,
      To be call'd 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 hang'd, 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 hang'd 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 villanous knave,
      Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
      O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold,
      And put in every honest hand a whip
      To lash the rascals naked through the world
      Even from the east to the west!
      

      IAGO

      Speak within door.
      

      EMILIA

      O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was
      That turn'd 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

      'Tis but 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.
      How now, Roderigo!
      

      RODERIGO

      I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.
      

      IAGO

      What in the contrary?
      

      RODERIGO

      Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago;
      and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest 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 fobbed 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 to 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 judgment. 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 to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I
      go to him: he knows not yet of his horrorable
      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 suppertime, and the night grows
      to waste: about it.
      

      RODERIGO

      I will hear further reason for this.
      

      IAGO

      And you shall be satisfied.
      

      Exeunt

   3. SCENE III. Another room In the castle.

      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 the instant; I will be returned
      forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it 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 cheques, 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 call'd Barbara:
      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 express'd her fortune,
      And she died singing it: that song to-night
      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 Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.
      

      EMILIA

      Shall I go fetch your night-gown?
      

      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

      Singing
      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 murmur'd her moans;
      Sing willow, willow, willow;
      Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
      Lay by these:--
      Sing willow, willow, willow;
      Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:--
      Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
      Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-
      Nay, that's not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks?
      

      EMILIA

      It's the wind.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Singing
      I call'd my love false love; but what
      said he then?
      Sing willow, willow, willow:
      If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men!
      So, get thee gone; good night Ate 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' the 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. 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 the whole world,--why, 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' the 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 the 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: heaven me such uses send,
      Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!
      

      Exeunt

5. ACT V

   1. SCENE I. Cyprus. A street.

      Enter IAGO and RODERIGO

      IAGO

      Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come:
      Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home:
      Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow:
      It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
      And fix most firm thy resolution.
      

      RODERIGO

      Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't.
      

      IAGO

      Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand.
      

      Retires

      RODERIGO

      I have no great devotion to the deed;
      And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons:
      'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies.
      

      IAGO

      I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense,
      And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
      Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
      Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo,
      He calls me to a restitution large
      Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him,
      As gifts to Desdemona;
      It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
      He hath a daily beauty in his life
      That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
      May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril:
      No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming.
      

      Enter CASSIO

      RODERIGO

      I know his gait, 'tis he.--Villain, thou diest!
      

      Makes a pass at CASSIO

      CASSIO

      That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
      But that my coat is better than thou know'st
      I will make proof of thine.
      

      Draws, and wounds RODERIGO

      RODERIGO

      O, I am slain!
      

      IAGO from behind wounds CASSIO in the leg, and exit

      CASSIO

      I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder!
      

      Falls

      Enter OTHELLO

      OTHELLO

      The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word.
      

      RODERIGO

      O, villain that I am!
      

      OTHELLO

      It is even so.
      

      CASSIO

      O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!
      

      OTHELLO

      'Tis he:--O brave Iago, honest and just,
      That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong!
      Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,
      And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come.
      Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;
      Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted.
      

      Exit

      Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO

      CASSIO

      What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder!
      

      GRATIANO

      'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.
      

      CASSIO

      O, help!
      

      LODOVICO

      Hark!
      

      RODERIGO

      O wretched villain!
      

      LODOVICO

      Two or three groan: it is a heavy night:
      These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe
      To come in to the cry without more help.
      

      RODERIGO

      Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.
      

      LODOVICO

      Hark!
      

      Re-enter IAGO, with a light

      GRATIANO

      Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.
      

      IAGO

      Who's there? whose noise is this that ones on murder?
      

      LODOVICO

      We do not know.
      

      IAGO

      Did not you hear a cry?
      

      CASSIO

      Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me!
      

      IAGO

      What's the matter?
      

      GRATIANO

      This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.
      

      LODOVICO

      The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.
      

      IAGO

      What are you here that cry so grievously?
      

      CASSIO

      Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
      Give me some help.
      

      IAGO

      O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this?
      

      CASSIO

      I think that one of them is hereabout,
      And cannot make away.
      

      IAGO

      O treacherous villains!
      What are you there? come in, and give some help.
      

      To LODOVICO and GRATIANO

      RODERIGO

      O, help me here!
      

      CASSIO

      That's one of them.
      

      IAGO

      O murderous slave! O villain!
      

      Stabs RODERIGO

      RODERIGO

      O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!
      

      IAGO

      Kill men i' the dark!--Where be these bloody thieves?--
      How silent is this town!--Ho! murder! murder!--
      What may you be? are you of good or evil?
      

      LODOVICO

      As you shall prove us, praise us.
      

      IAGO

      Signior Lodovico?
      

      LODOVICO

      He, sir.
      

      IAGO

      I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains.
      

      GRATIANO

      Cassio!
      

      IAGO

      How is't, brother!
      

      CASSIO

      My leg is cut in two.
      

      IAGO

      Marry, heaven forbid!
      Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.
      

      Enter BIANCA

      BIANCA

      What is the matter, ho? who is't that cried?
      

      IAGO

      Who is't that cried!
      

      BIANCA

      O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O Cassio,
      Cassio, Cassio!
      

      IAGO

      O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
      Who they should be that have thus many led you?
      

      CASSIO

      No.
      

      GRATIANO

      I am to find you thus: I have been to seek you.
      

      IAGO

      Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair,
      To bear him easily hence!
      

      BIANCA

      Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
      

      IAGO

      Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
      To be a party in this injury.
      Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
      Lend me a light. Know we this face or no?
      Alas my friend and my dear countryman
      Roderigo! no:--yes, sure: O heaven! Roderigo.
      

      GRATIANO

      What, of Venice?
      

      IAGO

      Even he, sir; did you know him?
      

      GRATIANO

      Know him! ay.
      

      IAGO

      Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon;
      These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
      That so neglected you.
      

      GRATIANO

      I am glad to see you.
      

      IAGO

      How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair!
      

      GRATIANO

      Roderigo!
      

      IAGO

      He, he 'tis he.
      O, that's well said; the chair!
      

      GRATIANO

      Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
      I'll fetch the general's surgeon.
      For you, mistress,
      Save you your labour. He that lies slain
      here, Cassio,
      Was my dear friend: what malice was between you?
      

      CASSIO

      None in the world; nor do I know the man.
      

      IAGO

      To BIANCA
      What, look you pale? O, bear him out
      o' the air.
      Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
      Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?
      Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.
      Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her:
      Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak,
      Though tongues were out of use.
      

      Enter EMILIA

      EMILIA

      'Las, what's the matter? what's the matter, husband?
      

      IAGO

      Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
      By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped:
      He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
      

      EMILIA

      Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!
      

      IAGO

      This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,
      Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night.
      What, do you shake at that?
      

      BIANCA

      He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.
      

      IAGO

      O, did he so? I charge you, go with me.
      

      EMILIA

      Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!
      

      BIANCA

      I am no strumpet; but of life as honest
      As you that thus abuse me.
      

      EMILIA

      As I! foh! fie upon thee!
      

      IAGO

      Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd.
      Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.
      Emilia run you to the citadel,
      And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd.
      Will you go on? I pray.
      This is the night
      That either makes me or fordoes me quite.
      

      Exeunt

   2. SCENE II. A bedchamber in the castle: DESDEMONA in bed asleep; a light burning.

      Enter OTHELLO

      OTHELLO

      It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,--
      Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!--
      It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood;
      Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
      And smooth as monumental alabaster.
      Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
      Put out the light, and then put out the light:
      If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
      I can again thy former light restore,
      Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,
      Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
      I know not where is that Promethean heat
      That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose,
      I cannot give it vital growth again.
      It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the tree.
      Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
      Justice to break her sword! One more, one more.
      Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
      And love thee after. One more, and this the last:
      So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
      But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly;
      It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Who's there? Othello?
      

      OTHELLO

      Ay. Desdemona.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Will you come to bed, my lord?
      

      OTHELLO

      Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?
      

      DESDEMONA

      Ay, my lord.
      

      OTHELLO

      If you bethink yourself of any crime
      Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
      Solicit for it straight.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that?
      

      OTHELLO

      Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by:
      I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
      No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Talk you of killing?
      

      OTHELLO

      Ay, I do.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Then heaven
      Have mercy on me!
      

      OTHELLO

      Amen, with all my heart!
      

      DESDEMONA

      If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
      

      OTHELLO

      Hum!
      

      DESDEMONA

      And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then
      When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,
      Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.
      

      OTHELLO

      Think on thy sins.
      

      DESDEMONA

      They are loves I bear to you.
      

      OTHELLO

      Ay, and for that thou diest.
      

      DESDEMONA

      That death's unnatural that kills for loving.
      Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
      Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:
      These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,
      They do not point on me.
      

      OTHELLO

      Peace, and be still!
      

      DESDEMONA

      I will so. What's the matter?
      

      OTHELLO

      That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee
      Thou gavest to Cassio.
      

      DESDEMONA

      No, by my life and soul!
      Send for the man, and ask him.
      

      OTHELLO

      Sweet soul, take heed,
      Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Ay, but not yet to die.
      

      OTHELLO

      Yes, presently:
      Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
      For to deny each article with oath
      Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
      That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Then Lord have mercy on me!
      

      OTHELLO

      I say, amen.
      

      DESDEMONA

      And have you mercy too! I never did
      Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio
      But with such general warranty of heaven
      As I might love: I never gave him token.
      

      OTHELLO

      By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand.
      O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart,
      And makest me call what I intend to do
      A murder, which I thought a sacrifice:
      I saw the handkerchief.
      

      DESDEMONA

      He found it then;
      I never gave it him: send for him hither;
      Let him confess a truth.
      

      OTHELLO

      He hath confess'd.
      

      DESDEMONA

      What, my lord?
      

      OTHELLO

      That he hath used thee.
      

      DESDEMONA

      How? unlawfully?
      

      OTHELLO

      Ay.
      

      DESDEMONA

      He will not say so.
      

      OTHELLO

      No, his mouth is stopp'd;
      Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.
      

      DESDEMONA

      O! my fear interprets: what, is he dead?
      

      OTHELLO

      Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
      Had stomach for them all.
      

      DESDEMONA

      Alas! he is betray'd and I undone.
      

      OTHELLO

      Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face?
      

      DESDEMONA

      O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!
      

      OTHELLO

      Down, strumpet!
      

      DESDEMONA

      Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night!
      

      OTHELLO

      Nay, if you strive--
      

      DESDEMONA

      But half an hour!
      

      OTHELLO

      Being done, there is no pause.
      

      DESDEMONA

      But while I say one prayer!
      

      OTHELLO

      It is too late.
      

      He stifles her

      EMILIA

      Within
      My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord!
      

      OTHELLO

      What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
      I that am cruel am yet merciful;
      I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so.
      

      EMILIA

      Within
      What, ho! my lord, my lord!
      

      OTHELLO

      Who's there?
      

      EMILIA

      Within
      O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you!
      

      OTHELLO

      Yes: 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead.
      'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.--
      The noise was here. Ha! no more moving?
      Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good?--
      I think she stirs again:--no. What's best to do?
      If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:
      My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife.
      O insupportable! O heavy hour!
      Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
      Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe
      Should yawn at alteration.
      

      EMILIA

      Within
      I do beseech you
      That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!
      

      OTHELLO

      I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia;
      Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw.
      Where art thou?
      What's the matter with thee now?
      

      EMILIA

      O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done!
      

      OTHELLO

      What, now?
      

      EMILIA

      But now, my lord.
      

      OTHELLO

      It is the very error of the moon;
      She comes more nearer earth than she was wont,
      And makes men mad.
      

      EMILIA

      Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian
      Call'd Roderigo.
      

      OTHELLO

      Roderigo kill'd!
      And Cassio kill'd!
      

      EMILIA

      No, Cassio is not kill'd.
      

      OTHELLO

      Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune,
      And sweet revenge grows harsh.
      

      DESDEMONA

      O, falsely, falsely murder'd!
      

      EMILIA

      Alas, what cry is that?
      

      OTHELLO

      That! what?
      

      EMILIA

      Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice.
      Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again!
      Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!
      

      DESDEMONA

      A guiltless death I die.
      

      EMILIA

      O, who hath done this deed?
      

      DESDEMONA

      Nobody; I myself. Farewell
      Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell!
      

      Dies

      OTHELLO

      Why, how should she be murder'd?
      

      EMILIA

      Alas, who knows?
      

      OTHELLO

      You heard her say herself, it was not I.
      

      EMILIA

      She said so: I must needs report the truth.
      

      OTHELLO

      She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell:
      'Twas I that kill'd her.
      

      EMILIA

      O, the more angel she,
      And you the blacker devil!
      

      OTHELLO

      She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.
      

      EMILIA

      Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.
      

      OTHELLO

      She was false as water.
      

      EMILIA

      Thou art rash as fire, to say
      That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!
      

      OTHELLO

      Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else.
      O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
      But that I did proceed upon just grounds
      To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
      

      EMILIA

      My husband!
      

      OTHELLO

      Thy husband.
      

      EMILIA

      That she was false to wedlock?
      

      OTHELLO

      Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,
      If heaven would make me such another world
      Of one entire and Perfect chrysolite,
      I'ld not have sold her for it.
      

      EMILIA

      My husband!
      

      OTHELLO

      Ay, 'twas he that told me first:
      An honest man he is, and hates the slime
      That sticks on filthy deeds.
      

      EMILIA

      My husband!
      

      OTHELLO

      What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband.
      

      EMILIA

      O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love,
      My husband say that she was false!
      

      OTHELLO

      He, woman;
      I say thy husband: dost understand the word?
      My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.
      

      EMILIA

      If he say so, may his pernicious soul
      Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart:
      She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
      

      OTHELLO

      Ha!
      

      EMILIA

      Do thy worst:
      This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
      Than thou wast worthy her.
      

      OTHELLO

      Peace, you were best.
      

      EMILIA

      Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
      As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt!
      As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed--
      I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known,
      Though I lost twenty lives.--Help! help, ho! help!
      The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder! murder!
      

      Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others

      MONTANO

      What is the matter? How now, general!
      

      EMILIA

      O, are you come, Iago? you have done well,
      That men must lay their murders on your neck.
      

      GRATIANO

      What is the matter?
      

      EMILIA

      Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man:
      He says thou told'st him that his wife was false:
      I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain:
      Speak, for my heart is full.
      

      IAGO

      I told him what I thought, and told no more
      Than what he found himself was apt and true.
      

      EMILIA

      But did you ever tell him she was false?
      

      IAGO

      I did.
      

      EMILIA

      You told a lie, an odious, damned lie;
      Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
      She false with Cassio!--did you say with Cassio?
      

      IAGO

      With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.
      

      EMILIA

      I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak:
      My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed,--
      

      All

      O heavens forfend!
      

      EMILIA

      And your reports have set the murder on.
      

      OTHELLO

      Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed.
      

      GRATIANO

      'Tis a strange truth.
      

      MONTANO

      O monstrous act!
      

      EMILIA

      Villany, villany, villany!
      I think upon't, I think: I smell't: O villany!--
      I thought so then:--I'll kill myself for grief:--
      O villany, villany!
      

      IAGO

      What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.
      

      EMILIA

      Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak:
      'Tis proper I obey him, but not now.
      Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.
      

      OTHELLO

      O! O! O!
      

      He falls on the bed

      EMILIA

      Nay, lay thee down and roar;
      For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
      That e'er did lift up eye.
      

      OTHELLO

      Rising
      O, she was foul!
      I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece,
      Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd:
      I know this act shows horrible and grim.
      

      GRATIANO

      Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead:
      Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
      Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now,
      This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
      Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
      And fall to reprobation.
      

      OTHELLO

      'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows
      That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
      A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it:
      And she did gratify his amorous works
      With that recognizance and pledge of love
      Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand:
      It was a handkerchief, an antique token
      My father gave my mother.
      

      EMILIA

      O heaven! O heavenly powers!
      

      IAGO

      Come, hold your peace.
      

      EMILIA

      'Twill out, 'twill out: I peace!
      No, I will speak as liberal as the north:
      Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,
      All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.
      

      IAGO

      Be wise, and get you home.
      

      EMILIA

      I will not.
      

      IAGO offers to stab EMILIA

      GRATIANO

      Fie!
      Your sword upon a woman?
      

      EMILIA

      O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of
      I found by fortune and did give my husband;
      For often, with a solemn earnestness,
      More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle,
      He begg'd of me to steal it.
      

      IAGO

      Villanous whore!
      

      EMILIA

      She give it Cassio! no, alas! I found it,
      And I did give't my husband.
      

      IAGO

      Filth, thou liest!
      

      EMILIA

      By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen.
      O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool
      Do with so good a woman?
      

      OTHELLO

      Are there no stones in heaven
      But what serve for the thunder?--Precious villain!
      

      He runs at IAGO IAGO, from behind, stabs EMILIA, and exit

      GRATIANO

      The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife.
      

      EMILIA

      Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress' side.
      

      GRATIANO

      He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.
      

      MONTANO

      'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon,
      Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:
      Come, guard the door without; let him not pass,
      But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain,
      For 'tis a damned slave.
      

      Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO

      OTHELLO

      I am not valiant neither,
      But ever puny whipster gets my sword:
      But why should honour outlive honesty?
      Let it go all.
      

      EMILIA

      What did thy song bode, lady?
      Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan.
      And die in music.
      Willow, willow, willow,--
      Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;
      So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
      So speaking as I think, I die, I die.
      

      Dies

      OTHELLO

      I have another weapon in this chamber;
      It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper:--
      O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.
      

      GRATIANO

      Within
      If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear:
      Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.
      

      OTHELLO

      Look in upon me then and speak with me,
      Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.
      

      Re-enter GRATIANO

      GRATIANO

      What is the matter?
      

      OTHELLO

      Behold, I have a weapon;
      A better never did itself sustain
      Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
      That, with this little arm and this good sword,
      I have made my way through more impediments
      Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast!
      Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.
      Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
      Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
      And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
      Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear;
      Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
      And he retires. Where should Othello go?
      Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
      Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
      This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
      And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl!
      Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave!
      Whip me, ye devils,
      From the possession of this heavenly sight!
      Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
      Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
      O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead!
      Oh! Oh! Oh!
      

      Enter LODOVICO. MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a chair, and Officers with IAGO, prisoner

      LODOVICO

      Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?
      

      OTHELLO

      That's he that was Othello: here I am.
      

      LODOVICO

      Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.
      

      OTHELLO

      I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable.
      If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee.
      

      Wounds IAGO

      LODOVICO

      Wrench his sword from him.
      

      IAGO

      I bleed, sir; but not kill'd.
      

      OTHELLO

      I am not sorry neither: I'ld have thee live;
      For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.
      

      LODOVICO

      O thou Othello, thou wert once so good,
      Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave,
      What shall be said to thee?
      

      OTHELLO

      Why, any thing:
      An honourable murderer, if you will;
      For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.
      

      LODOVICO

      This wretch hath part confess'd his villany:
      Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?
      

      OTHELLO

      Ay.
      

      CASSIO

      Dear general, I never gave you cause.
      

      OTHELLO

      I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
      Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil
      Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?
      

      IAGO

      Demand me nothing: what you know, you know:
      From this time forth I never will speak word.
      

      LODOVICO

      What, not to pray?
      

      GRATIANO

      Torments will ope your lips.
      

      OTHELLO

      Well, thou dost best.
      

      LODOVICO

      Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
      Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter
      Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;
      And here another: the one of them imports
      The death of Cassio to be undertook
      By Roderigo.
      

      OTHELLO

      O villain!
      

      CASSIO

      Most heathenish and most gross!
      

      LODOVICO

      Now here's another discontented paper,
      Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
      Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
      But that belike Iago in the interim
      Came in and satisfied him.
      

      OTHELLO

      O the pernicious caitiff!
      How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
      That was my wife's?
      

      CASSIO

      I found it in my chamber:
      And he himself confess'd but even now
      That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose
      Which wrought to his desire.
      

      OTHELLO

      O fool! fool! fool!
      

      CASSIO

      There is besides in Roderigo's letter,
      How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
      Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
      That I was cast: and even but now he spake,
      After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him,
      Iago set him on.
      

      LODOVICO

      You must forsake this room, and go with us:
      Your power and your command is taken off,
      And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
      If there be any cunning cruelty
      That can torment him much and hold him long,
      It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
      Till that the nature of your fault be known
      To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away.
      

      OTHELLO

      Soft you; a word or two before you go.
      I have done the state some service, and they know't.
      No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
      When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
      Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
      Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
      Of one that loved not wisely but too well;
      Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought
      Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
      Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
      Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes,
      Albeit unused to the melting mood,
      Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
      Their medicinal gum. Set you down this;
      And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
      Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
      Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
      I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
      And smote him, thus.
      

      Stabs himself

      LODOVICO

      O bloody period!
      

      GRATIANO

      All that's spoke is marr'd.
      

      OTHELLO

      I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this;
      Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.
      

      Falls on the bed, and dies

      CASSIO

      This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;
      For he was great of heart.
      

      LODOVICO

      To IAGO
      O Spartan dog,
      More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
      Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
      This is thy work: the object poisons sight;
      Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
      And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
      For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor,
      Remains the censure of this hellish villain;
      The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce it!
      Myself will straight aboard: and to the state
      This heavy act with heavy heart relate.
      

      Exeunt