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Othello

Shakespeare, William
Section 4 of 5
Underlined text was edited by AI to fix errors.

Act IV

SCENE I. Cyprus. Before the Castle

Enter Othello and Iago.
IagoWill you think so?
OthelloThink so, Iago?
IagoWhat, To kiss in private?
OthelloAn unauthoriz’d kiss.
IagoOr to be naked with her friend in bed
An hour or more, not meaning any harm?
OthelloNaked 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.
IagoSo they do nothing, ’tis a venial slip. But if I give my wife a handkerchief—
OthelloWhat then?
IagoWhy then, ’tis hers, my lord, and being hers, She may, I think, bestow’t on any man.
OthelloShe is protectress of her honour too. May she give that?
IagoHer honour is an essence that’s not seen; They have it very oft that have it not: But for the handkerchief—
OthelloBy heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it. Thou said’st (O, it comes o’er my memory, As doth the raven o’er the infected house, Boding to all) he had my handkerchief.
IagoAy, what of that?
OthelloThat’s not so good now.
IagoWhat 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.)
OthelloHath he said anything?
IagoHe hath, my lord, but be you well assur’d, No more than he’ll unswear.
OthelloWhat hath he said?
IagoFaith, that he did—I know not what he did.
OthelloWhat? What?
IagoLie.
OthelloWith her?
IagoWith her, on her, what you will.
OthelloLie 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.]
IagoWork 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!
CassioWhat’s the matter?
IagoMy lord is fallen into an epilepsy. This is his second fit. He had one yesterday.
CassioRub him about the temples.
IagoNo, forbear; The lethargy must have his quiet course. If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by
Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs: Do you withdraw yourself a little while, He will recover straight. When he is gone, I would on great occasion speak with you.
[Exit Cassio.]
How is it, general? Have you not hurt your head?
OthelloDost thou mock me?
IagoI mock you? No, by heaven. Would you would bear your fortune like a man!
OthelloA horned man’s a monster and a beast.
IagoThere’s many a beast, then, in a populous city, And many a civil monster.
OthelloDid he confess it?
IagoGood sir, be a man. Think every bearded fellow that’s but yok’d 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.
OthelloO, thou art wise, ’tis certain.
IagoStand 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 promis’d. 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.
OthelloDost thou hear, Iago? I will be found most cunning in my patience; But,—dost thou hear?—most bloody.
IagoThat’s not amiss. But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?
[Othello withdraws.]
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 beguil’d 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 behaviour Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieutenant?
CassioThe worser that you give me the addition Whose want even kills me.
IagoPly Desdemona well, and you are sure on’t. [Speaking lower.] Now, if this suit lay in Bianca’s power, How quickly should you speed!
CassioAlas, poor caitiff!
Othello[Aside.] Look how he laughs already!
IagoI never knew a woman love man so.
CassioAlas, poor rogue! I think, i’ faith, she loves me.
Othello[Aside.] Now he denies it faintly and laughs it out.
IagoDo you hear, Cassio?
OthelloNow he importunes him To tell it o’er. Go to, well said, well said.
IagoShe gives it out that you shall marry her. Do you intend it?
CassioHa, ha, ha!
OthelloDo you triumph, Roman? Do you triumph?
CassioI marry her? What? A customer? I prithee, bear some charity to my wit, do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha!
OthelloSo, so, so, so. They laugh that wins.
IagoFaith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.
CassioPrithee say true.
IagoI am a very villain else.
OthelloHave you scored me? Well.
CassioThis 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.
OthelloIago beckons me. Now he begins the story.
CassioShe 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 falls thus about my neck.
OthelloCrying, “O dear Cassio!” as it were: his gesture imports it.
CassioSo hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha!
OthelloNow 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.
CassioWell, I must leave her company.
IagoBefore me! look where she comes.
Enter Bianca.
Cassio’Tis such another fitchew! Marry, a perfum’d one. What do you mean by this haunting of me?
BiancaLet 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.
CassioHow now, my sweet Bianca? How now, how now?
OthelloBy heaven, that should be my handkerchief!
BiancaIf you’ll come to supper tonight, you may. If you will not, come when you are next prepared for.
IagoAfter her, after her.
CassioFaith, I must; she’ll rail in the street else.
IagoWill you sup there?
CassioFaith, I intend so.
IagoWell, I may chance to see you, for I would very fain speak with you.
CassioPrithee come, will you?
IagoGo to; say no more.
[Exit Cassio.]
Othello[Coming forward.] How shall I murder him, Iago?
IagoDid you perceive how he laughed at his vice?
OthelloO Iago!
IagoAnd did you see the handkerchief?
OthelloWas that mine?
IagoYours, 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.
OthelloI would have him nine years a-killing. A fine woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman!
IagoNay, you must forget that.
OthelloAy, let her rot, and perish, and be damned tonight, for she shall not live. No, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature. She might lie by an emperor’s side, and command him tasks.
IagoNay, that’s not your way.
OthelloHang 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!
IagoShe’s the worse for all this.
OthelloO, a thousand, a thousand times: and then of so gentle a condition!
IagoAy, too gentle.
OthelloNay, that’s certain. But yet the pity of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!
IagoIf you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes near nobody.
OthelloI will chop her into messes. Cuckold me!
IagoO, ’tis foul in her.
OthelloWith mine officer!
IagoThat’s fouler.
OthelloGet me some poison, Iago; this night. I’ll not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again. This night, Iago.
IagoDo it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.
OthelloGood, good. The justice of it pleases. Very good.
IagoAnd for Cassio, let me be his undertaker. You shall hear more by midnight.
OthelloExcellent good. [A trumpet within.] What trumpet is that same?
Enter Lodovico, Desdemona and Attendant.
IagoSomething from Venice, sure. ’Tis Lodovico Come from the duke. See, your wife is with him.
LodovicoSave you, worthy general!
OthelloWith all my heart, sir.
LodovicoThe duke and senators of Venice greet you.
[Gives him a packet.]
OthelloI kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
[Opens the packet and reads.]
DesdemonaAnd what’s the news, good cousin Lodovico?
IagoI am very glad to see you, signior. Welcome to Cyprus.
LodovicoI thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?
IagoLives, sir.
DesdemonaCousin, there’s fall’n between him and my lord An unkind breach, but you shall make all well.
OthelloAre you sure of that?
DesdemonaMy lord?
Othello[Reads.] “This fail you not to do, as you will—”
LodovicoHe did not call; he’s busy in the paper. Is there division ’twixt my lord and Cassio?
DesdemonaA most unhappy one. I would do much To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.
OthelloFire and brimstone!
DesdemonaMy lord?
OthelloAre you wise?
DesdemonaWhat, is he angry?
LodovicoMay be the letter mov’d him; For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government.
DesdemonaTrust me, I am glad on’t.
OthelloIndeed!
DesdemonaMy lord?
OthelloI am glad to see you mad.
DesdemonaWhy, sweet Othello?
OthelloDevil!
[Striking her.]
DesdemonaI have not deserv’d this.
LodovicoMy lord, this would not be believ’d in Venice, Though I should swear I saw’t: ’tis very much. Make her amends. She weeps.
OthelloO devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. Out of my sight!
DesdemonaI will not stay to offend you.
[Going.]
LodovicoTruly, an obedient lady. I do beseech your lordship, call her back.
OthelloMistress!
DesdemonaMy lord?
OthelloWhat would you with her, sir?
LodovicoWho, I, my lord?
OthelloAy, you did wish that I would make her turn.
Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, And turn again. And she can weep, sir, weep; And she’s obedient, as you say, obedient, Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. Concerning this, sir,—O well-painted passion! I am commanded home.—Get you away; I’ll send for you anon.—Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice.—Hence, avaunt!
[Exit Desdemona.]
Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight, I do entreat that we may sup together. You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!
LodovicoIs 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?
IagoHe is much chang’d.
LodovicoAre his wits safe? Is he not light of brain?
IagoHe’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!
LodovicoWhat, strike his wife?
IagoFaith, that was not so well; yet would I knew That stroke would prove the worst!
LodovicoIs it his use? Or did the letters work upon his blood, And new-create this fault?
IagoAlas, 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.
LodovicoI am sorry that I am deceiv’d in him.

SCENE II. Cyprus. A Room in the Castle

Enter Othello and Emilia.
OthelloYou have seen nothing, then?
EmiliaNor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.
OthelloYes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
EmiliaBut then I saw no harm, and then I heard Each syllable that breath made up between them.
OthelloWhat, did they never whisper?
EmiliaNever, my lord.
OthelloNor send you out o’ the way?
EmiliaNever.
OthelloTo fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
EmiliaNever, my lord.
OthelloThat’s strange.
EmiliaI 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.
OthelloBid her come hither. Go.
[Exit Emilia.]
She says enough. Yet she’s a simple bawd That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, A closet lock and key of villainous secrets. And yet she’ll kneel and pray. I have seen her do ’t.
Enter Desdemona and Emilia.
DesdemonaMy lord, what is your will?
OthelloPray, chuck, come hither.
DesdemonaWhat is your pleasure?
OthelloLet me see your eyes. Look in my face.
DesdemonaWhat horrible fancy’s this?
Othello[To Emilia.] Some of your function, mistress, Leave procreants alone, and shut the door. Cough, or cry hem, if anybody come. Your mystery, your mystery. Nay, dispatch.
[Exit Emilia.]
DesdemonaUpon my knees, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words, But not the words.
OthelloWhy, what art thou?
DesdemonaYour wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife.
OthelloCome, 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.
DesdemonaHeaven doth truly know it.
OthelloHeaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.
DesdemonaTo whom, my lord? With whom? How am I false?
OthelloO Desdemona, away! away! away!
DesdemonaAlas 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.
OthelloHad it pleas’d 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!
DesdemonaI hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
OthelloO, 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!
DesdemonaAlas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
OthelloWas 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!
DesdemonaBy heaven, you do me wrong.
OthelloAre not you a strumpet?
DesdemonaNo, 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.
OthelloWhat, not a whore?
DesdemonaNo, as I shall be sav’d.
OthelloIs’t possible?
DesdemonaO, heaven forgive us!
OthelloI 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 keeps 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.
EmiliaAlas, what does this gentleman conceive? How do you, madam? How do you, my good lady?
DesdemonaFaith, half asleep.
EmiliaGood madam, what’s the matter with my lord?
DesdemonaWith who?
EmiliaWhy, with my lord, madam.
DesdemonaWho is thy lord?
EmiliaHe that is yours, sweet lady.
DesdemonaI 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.
EmiliaHere’s a change indeed!
Desdemona’Tis meet I should be us’d so, very meet. How have I been behav’d, that he might stick The small’st opinion on my least misuse?
Enter Iago and Emilia.
IagoWhat is your pleasure, madam? How is’t with you?
DesdemonaI 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.
IagoWhat’s the matter, lady?
EmiliaAlas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor’d her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, As true hearts cannot bear.
DesdemonaAm I that name, Iago?
IagoWhat name, fair lady?
DesdemonaSuch as she says my lord did say I was.
EmiliaHe call’d her whore: a beggar in his drink Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.
IagoWhy did he so?
DesdemonaI do not know. I am sure I am none such.
IagoDo not weep, do not weep: alas the day!
EmiliaHath 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?
DesdemonaIt is my wretched fortune.
IagoBeshrew him for’t! How comes this trick upon him?
DesdemonaNay, heaven doth know.
EmiliaI will be hang’d, if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devis’d this slander. I’ll be hang’d else.
IagoFie, there is no such man. It is impossible.
DesdemonaIf any such there be, heaven pardon him!
EmiliaA halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones! Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company? What place? what time? what form? what likelihood? The Moor’s abused by some most villainous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. O heaven, that such companions thou’dst unfold, And put in every honest hand a whip To lash the rascals naked through the world Even from the east to the west!
IagoSpeak within door.
EmiliaO, 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.
IagoYou are a fool. Go to.
DesdemonaAlas, 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.
IagoI pray you, be content. ’Tis but his humour. The business of the state does him offence, And he does chide with you.
DesdemonaIf ’twere no other,—
Iago’Tis but so, I warrant.
[Trumpets within.]
Hark, how these instruments summon to supper. The messengers of Venice stay the meat. Go in, and weep not. All things shall be well.
[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.]
Enter Roderigo.
How now, Roderigo?
RoderigoI do not find that thou dealest justly with me.
IagoWhat in the contrary?
RoderigoEvery 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.
IagoWill you hear me, Roderigo?
RoderigoFaith, I have heard too much, for your words and performances are no kin together.
IagoYou charge me most unjustly.
RoderigoWith naught 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.
IagoWell, go to, very well.
RoderigoVery well, go to, I cannot go to, man, nor ’tis not very well. Nay, I say ’tis very scurvy, and begin to find myself fopped in it.
IagoVery well.
RoderigoI 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.
IagoYou have said now.
RoderigoAy, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing.
IagoWhy, now I see there’s mettle in thee, and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo. Thou hast taken against me a most just exception, but yet I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair.
RoderigoIt hath not appeared.
IagoI grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgement. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever,—I mean purpose, courage, and valour,—this night show it. If thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life.
RoderigoWell, what is it? Is it within reason and compass?
IagoSir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello’s place.
RoderigoIs that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice.
IagoO, 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.
RoderigoHow do you mean “removing” of him?
IagoWhy, by making him uncapable of Othello’s place: knocking out his brains.
RoderigoAnd that you would have me to do?
IagoAy, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him. He knows not yet of his honourable fortune. If you will watch his going thence, which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, you may take him at your pleasure: I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me. I will show you such a necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high supper-time, and the night grows to waste. About it.
RoderigoI will hear further reason for this.
IagoAnd you shall be satisfied.

SCENE III. Cyprus. Another Room in the Castle

Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia and Attendants.
LodovicoI do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.
OthelloO, pardon me; ’twill do me good to walk.
LodovicoMadam, good night. I humbly thank your ladyship.
DesdemonaYour honour is most welcome.
OthelloWill you walk, sir?— O, Desdemona,—
DesdemonaMy lord?
OthelloGet you to bed on th’ instant, I will be return’d forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there. Look ’t be done.
DesdemonaI will, my lord.
[Exeunt Othello, Lodovico and Attendants.]
EmiliaHow goes it now? He looks gentler than he did.
DesdemonaHe says he will return incontinent, He hath commanded me to go to bed, And bade me to dismiss you.
EmiliaDismiss me?
DesdemonaIt was his bidding. Therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu. We must not now displease him.
EmiliaI would you had never seen him!
DesdemonaSo would not I. My love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns,— Prithee, unpin me,—have grace and favour in them.
EmiliaI have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.
DesdemonaAll’s one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds! If I do die before thee, prithee, shroud me In one of those same sheets.
EmiliaCome, come, you talk.
DesdemonaMy mother had a maid call’d Barbary, She was in love, and he she lov’d prov’d 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 tonight Will not go from my mind. I have much to do But to go hang my head all at one side And sing it like poor Barbary. Prithee dispatch.
EmiliaShall I go fetch your night-gown?
DesdemonaNo, unpin me here. This Lodovico is a proper man.
EmiliaA very handsome man.
DesdemonaHe speaks well.
EmiliaI 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:—
[Sings.] Sing willow, willow, willow.
Prithee hie thee. He’ll come anon.
[Sings.] _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?
EmiliaIt’s the wind.
Desdemona[Sings.] _I call’d my love false love; but what said he then? Sing willow, willow, willow: If I court mo women, you’ll couch with mo men._
So get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch; Doth that bode weeping?
Emilia’Tis neither here nor there.
DesdemonaI 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?
EmiliaThere be some such, no question.
DesdemonaWouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EmiliaWhy, would not you?
DesdemonaNo, by this heavenly light!
EmiliaNor I neither by this heavenly light, I might do’t as well i’ the dark.
DesdemonaWouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EmiliaThe world’s a huge thing. It is a great price For a small vice.
DesdemonaIn troth, I think thou wouldst not.
EmiliaIn 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.
DesdemonaBeshrew me, if I would do such a wrong for the whole world.
EmiliaWhy, 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.
DesdemonaI do not think there is any such woman.
EmiliaYes, 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.
DesdemonaGood night, good night. Heaven me such usage send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!