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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.
’Sblood, but you’ll not hear me!
55If ever I did dream of such a matter,
Abhor me.
Thou toldst me thou didst hold him in thy hate.
Despise me
If I do not. Three great ones of the city,
1010In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Off-capped 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,
1515Horribly stuffed with epithets of war,
And in conclusion,
Nonsuits my mediators. For “Certes,” says he,
“I have already chose my officer.”
And what was he?
2020Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damned in a fair wife,
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
2525More than a spinster—unless the bookish theoric,
Wherein the togèd consuls can propose
As masterly as he. Mere prattle without practice
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had th’ election;
And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
3030At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds
Christened and heathen, must be beleed and
calmed
By debitor and creditor. This countercaster,
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
3535And I, God bless the mark, his Moorship’s ancient.
By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.
Why, there’s no remedy. ’Tis the curse of service.
Preferment goes by letter and affection,
And not by old gradation, where each second
4040Stood heir to th’ first. Now, sir, be judge yourself
Whether I in any just term am affined
To love the Moor.
I would not follow him, then.
O, sir, content you.
4545I follow him to serve my turn upon him.
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly followed. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
5050Wears out his time, much like his master’s ass,
For naught but provender, and when he’s old,
cashiered.
Whip me such honest knaves! Others there are
Who, trimmed in forms and visages of duty,
5555Keep 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
6060soul,
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.
6565Heaven 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 complement extern, ’tis not long after
7070But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.
What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe
If he can carry ’t thus!
Call up her father.
7575Rouse 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 chances of vexation on ’t
8080As it may lose some color.
Here is her father’s house. I’ll call aloud.
Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell
As when, by night and negligence, the fire
Is spied in populous cities.
8585What ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!
Awake! What ho, Brabantio! Thieves, thieves!
Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags!
Thieves, thieves!
What is the reason of this terrible summons?
9090What is the matter there?
Signior, is all your family within?
Are your doors locked?
Why, wherefore ask you this?
Zounds, sir, you’re robbed. For shame, put on your
9595gown!
Your heart is burst. You have lost half your soul.
Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise!
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
100100Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you.
Arise, I say!
What, have you lost your wits?
Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?
Not I. What are you?
105105My name is Roderigo.
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,
110110Being full of supper and distemp’ring draughts,
Upon malicious bravery dost thou come
To start my quiet.
Sir, sir, sir—
But thou must needs be sure
115115My spirit and my place have in them power
To make this bitter to thee.
Patience, good sir.
What tell’st thou me of robbing?
This is Venice. My house is not a grange.
120120Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you—
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
125125have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse,
you’ll have your nephews neigh to you, you’ll have
coursers for cousins and jennets for germans.
What profane wretch art thou?
I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter
130130and the Moor are now making the beast with
two backs.
Thou art a villain.
You are a senator.
This thou shalt answer. I know thee, Roderigo.
135135Sir, I will answer anything. 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’ th’ night,
Transported with no worse nor better guard
140140But 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
145145We 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,
150150Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes
In an extravagant and wheeling stranger
Of here and everywhere. Straight satisfy yourself.
If she be in her chamber or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
155155For thus deluding you.
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.
160160Light, I say, light!
Farewell, for I must leave you.
It seems not meet nor wholesome to my place
To be producted, as if I stay I shall,
Against the Moor. For I do know the state,
165165However this may gall him with some check,
Cannot with safety cast him, for he’s embarked
With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
Which even now stands in act, that, for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have none
170170To 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
175175him,
Lead to the Sagittary the raisèd search,
And there will I be with him. So, farewell.
It is too true an evil. Gone she is,
And what’s to come of my despisèd time
180180Is naught but bitterness.—Now, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her?—O, unhappy girl!—
With the Moor, sayst thou?—Who would be a
father?—
How didst thou know ’twas she?—O, she deceives
185185me
Past thought!—What said she to you?—Get more
tapers.
Raise all my kindred.—Are they married, think
you?
190190Truly, I think they are.
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
195195May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing?
Yes, sir, I have indeed.
Call up my brother.—O, would you had had her!—
Some one way, some another.—Do you know
200200Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?
I think I can discover him, if you please
To get good guard and go along with me.
Pray you lead on. At every house I’ll call.
I may command at most.—Get weapons, ho!
205205And raise some special officers of night.—
On, good Roderigo. I will deserve your pains.
Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
Yet do I hold it very stuff o’ th’ conscience
To do no contrived murder. I lack iniquity
210Sometimes to do me service. Nine or ten times
5I had thought t’ have yerked him here under the
ribs.
’Tis better as it is.
Nay, but he prated
215And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
10Against your Honor,
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,
220That the magnifico is much beloved,
15And hath in his effect a voice potential
As double as the Duke’s. He will divorce you
Or put upon you what restraint or grievance
The law (with all his might to enforce it on)
225Will give him cable.
20Let 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 honor,
230I shall promulgate) I fetch my life and being
25From men of royal siege, and my demerits
May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reached. For know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
235I would not my unhousèd free condition
30Put into circumscription and confine
For the sea’s worth. But look, what lights come
yond?
Those are the raisèd father and his friends.
240You were best go in.
35Not I. I must be found.
My parts, my title, and my perfect soul
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
By Janus, I think no.
Enter Cassio, with Officers, and Torches.
245The servants of the Duke and my lieutenant!
40The goodness of the night upon you, friends.
What is the news?
The Duke does greet you, general,
And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,
250Even on the instant.
45What is the matter, think you?
Something from Cyprus, as I may divine.
It is a business of some heat. The galleys
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
255This very night at one another’s heels,
50And many of the Consuls, raised and met,
Are at the Duke’s already. You have been hotly
called for.
When, being not at your lodging to be found,
260The Senate hath sent about three several quests
55To search you out.
’Tis well I am found by you.
I will but spend a word here in the house
And go with you.
265Ancient, what makes he here?
60Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carrack.
If it prove lawful prize, he’s made forever.
I do not understand.
He’s married.
270To who?
65Marry, to—
Reenter Othello.
Come, captain, will you go?
Have with you.
Here comes another troop to seek for you.
275It is Brabantio. General, be advised,
70He comes to bad intent.
Holla, stand there!
Signior, it is the Moor.
Down with him,
280thief!
75You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you.
Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust
them.
Good signior, you shall more command with years
285Than with your weapons.
80O, thou foul thief, where hast thou stowed my
daughter?
Damned as thou art, thou hast enchanted her!
For I’ll refer me to all things of sense,
290If she in chains of magic were not bound,
85Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy,
So opposite to marriage that she shunned
The wealthy curlèd darlings of our nation,
Would ever have, t’ incur a general mock,
295Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
90Of such a thing as thou—to fear, not to delight!
Judge me the world, if ’tis not gross in sense
That thou hast practiced on her with foul charms,
Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
300That weakens motion. I’ll have ’t disputed on.
95’Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
I therefore apprehend and do attach thee
For an abuser of the world, a practicer
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.—
305Lay hold upon him. If he do resist,
100Subdue him at his peril.
Hold your hands,
Both you of my inclining and the rest.
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
310Without a prompter.—Whither will you that I go
105To answer this your charge?
To prison, till fit time
Of law and course of direct session
Call thee to answer.
315What if I do obey?
110How 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?
320’Tis true, most worthy signior.
115The Duke’s in council, and your noble self
I am sure is sent for.
How? The Duke in council?
In this time of the night? Bring him away;
325Mine’s not an idle cause. The Duke himself,
120Or any of my brothers of the state,
Cannot but feel this wrong as ’twere their own.
For if such actions may have passage free,
Bondslaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.
330There’s no composition in these news
That gives them credit.
Indeed, they are disproportioned.
My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.
5And mine, a hundred forty.
335And 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
10A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
340Nay, 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.
15What ho, what ho, what ho!
Enter Sailor.345A messenger from the galleys.
Now, what’s the business?
The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes.
So was I bid report here to the state
20By Signior Angelo.
350How say you by this change?
This cannot be,
By no assay of reason. ’Tis a pageant
To keep us in false gaze. When we consider
25Th’ importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
355And 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,
30But altogether lacks th’ abilities
360That Rhodes is dressed in—if we make thought of
this,
We must not think the Turk is so unskillful
To leave that latest which concerns him first,
35Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain
365To wake and wage a danger profitless.
Nay, in all confidence, he’s not for Rhodes.
Here is more news.
Enter a Messenger.
The Ottomites, Reverend and Gracious,
40Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes,
370Have there injointed them with an after fleet.
Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?
Of thirty sail; and now they do restem
Their backward course, bearing with frank
45appearance
375Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
With his free duty recommends you thus,
And prays you to believe him.
50’Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.
380Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?
He’s now in Florence.
Write from us to him.
Post-post-haste. Dispatch.
55Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.
385Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
Against the general enemy Ottoman.
To Brabantio. I did not see you. Welcome, gentle
signior.
60We lacked your counsel and your help tonight.
390So 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
65Take hold on me, for my particular grief
395Is of so floodgate and o’erbearing nature
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows
And it is still itself.
Why, what’s the matter?
70My daughter! O, my daughter!
400Dead?
Ay, to me.
She is abused, stol’n from me, and corrupted
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;
75For nature so prepost’rously to err—
405Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense—
Sans witchcraft could not.
Whoe’er he be that in this foul proceeding
Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself
80And you of her, the bloody book of law
410You shall yourself read in the bitter letter,
After your own sense, yea, though our proper son
Stood in your action.
Humbly I thank your Grace.
85Here is the man—this Moor, whom now it seems
415Your special mandate for the state affairs
Hath hither brought.
We are very sorry for ’t.
What, in your own part, can you say to this?
90Nothing, but this is so.
420Most 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.
95The very head and front of my offending
425Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little blessed 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
100Their dearest action in the tented field,
430And 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
105patience,
435I will a round unvarnished tale deliver
Of my whole course of love—what drugs, what
charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic
110(For such proceeding I am charged withal)
440I won his daughter.
A maiden never bold,
Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion
Blushed at herself. And she, in spite of nature,
115Of years, of country, credit, everything,
445To fall in love with what she feared to look on!
It is a judgment maimed and most imperfect
That will confess perfection so could err
Against all rules of nature, and must be driven
120To find out practices of cunning hell
450Why 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.
125To vouch this is no proof
455Without more wider and more overt test
Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming do prefer against him.
But, Othello, speak:
130Did you by indirect and forcèd courses
460Subdue and poison this young maid’s affections?
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?
I do beseech you,
135Send for the lady to the Sagittary
465And 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
140Even fall upon my life.
470Fetch Desdemona hither.
Ancient, conduct them. You best know the place.
Iago and Attendants exit.
And till she come, as truly as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my blood,
145So justly to your grave ears I’ll present
475How I did thrive in this fair lady’s love,
And she in mine.
Say it, Othello.
Her father loved me, oft invited me,
150Still questioned me the story of my life
480From year to year—the battles, sieges, fortunes
That I have passed.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days
To th’ very moment that he bade me tell it,
155Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances:
485Of moving accidents by flood and field,
Of hairbreadth ’scapes i’ th’ imminent deadly
breach,
Of being taken by the insolent foe
160And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence,
490And portance in my traveler’s history,
Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads
touch heaven,
165It was my hint to speak—such was my process—
495And of the cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to
hear
170Would Desdemona seriously incline.
500But still the house affairs would draw her thence,
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch
She’d come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse. Which I, observing,
175Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
505To 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,
180And often did beguile her of her tears
510When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffered. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.
She swore, in faith, ’twas strange, ’twas passing
185strange,
515’Twas pitiful, ’twas wondrous pitiful.
She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished
That heaven had made her such a man. She thanked
me,
190And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
520I 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 passed,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
195This only is the witchcraft I have used.
525Here comes the lady. Let her witness it.
I think this tale would win my daughter, too.
Good Brabantio,
Take up this mangled matter at the best.
200Men do their broken weapons rather use
530Than their bare hands.
I pray you hear her speak.
If she confess that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head if my bad blame
205Light on the man.—Come hither, gentle mistress.
535Do you perceive in all this noble company
Where most you owe obedience?
My noble father,
I do perceive here a divided duty.
210To you I am bound for life and education.
540My 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.
215And so much duty as my mother showed
545To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor my lord.
God be with you! I have done.
220Please it your Grace, on to the state affairs.
550I 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
225I would keep from thee.—For your sake, jewel,
555I 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.
Let me speak like yourself and lay a sentence,
230Which as a grise or step may help these lovers
560Into your favor.
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
235Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
565What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mock’ry makes.
The robbed that smiles steals something from the
thief;
240He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
570So 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;
245But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow
575That, 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
250That the bruised heart was piercèd through the
580ear.
I humbly beseech you, proceed to th’ affairs of
state.
The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes
255for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is
585best 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
260slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this
590more stubborn and boist’rous expedition.
The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down. I do agnize
265A natural and prompt alacrity
595I find in hardness, and do undertake
This present wars against the Ottomites.
Most humbly, therefore, bending to your state,
I crave fit disposition for my wife,
270Due reference of place and exhibition,
600With such accommodation and besort
As levels with her breeding.
Why, at her father’s.
I will not have it so.
275Nor I.
605Nor would I there reside
To put my father in impatient thoughts
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear
280And let me find a charter in your voice
610T’ assist my simpleness.
What would you, Desdemona?
That I love the Moor to live with him
My downright violence and storm of fortunes
285May trumpet to the world. My heart’s subdued
615Even to the very quality of my lord.
I saw Othello’s visage in his mind,
And to his honors and his valiant parts
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
290So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
620A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites for why I love him are bereft me
And I a heavy interim shall support
By his dear absence. Let me go with him.
295Let her have your voice.
625Vouch 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,
300But to be free and bounteous to her mind.
630And heaven defend your good souls that you think
I will your serious and great business scant
For she is with me. No, when light-winged toys
Of feathered Cupid seel with wanton dullness
305My speculative and officed instruments,
635That 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.
310Be it as you shall privately determine,
640Either for her stay or going. Th’ affair cries haste,
And speed must answer it.
You must away tonight.
With all my
315heart.
645At nine i’ th’ 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
320As doth import you.
650So please your Grace, my
ancient.
A man he is of honesty and trust.
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
325With what else needful your good Grace shall think
655To be sent after me.
Let it be so.
Good night to everyone. To Brabantio. And, noble
signior,
330If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
660Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.
Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see.
She has deceived her father, and may thee.
335My life upon her faith!
The Duke, the Senators, Cassio, and Officers exit.
665Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee.
I prithee let thy wife attend on her,
And bring them after in the best advantage.—
340Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour
670Of love, of worldly matters, and direction
To spend with thee. We must obey the time.
Iago—
What sayst thou, noble heart?
345What will I do, think’st thou?
675Why, go to bed and sleep.
I will incontinently drown myself.
If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why,
thou silly gentleman!
350It is silliness to live, when to live is torment,
680and then have we a prescription to die when death is
our physician.
O, villainous! I have looked upon the world for
four times seven years, and since I could distinguish
355betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found
685man 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.
What should I do? I confess it is my shame
360to be so fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
690Virtue? 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,
365supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it
695with 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
370another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our
700natures would conduct us to most prepost’rous
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
375scion.
705It cannot be.
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
380friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving
710with cables of perdurable toughness. I could never
better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse.
Follow thou the wars; defeat thy favor with an
usurped beard. I say, put money in thy purse. It
385cannot be that Desdemona should long continue
715her love to the Moor—put money in thy purse—
nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement in
her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration
—put but money in thy purse. These Moors are
390changeable in their wills. Fill thy purse with money.
720The 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.
395Therefore, put money in thy purse. If thou wilt
725needs 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 be not too hard for my
400wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her.
730Therefore 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.
405Wilt thou be fast to my hopes if I depend on
735the issue?
Thou art sure of me. Go, make money. I have
told thee often, and I retell thee again and again, I
hate the Moor. My cause is hearted; thine hath no
410less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge
740against 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
415of this tomorrow. Adieu.
745Where shall we meet i’ th’ morning?
At my lodging.
I’ll be with thee betimes.
Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?
420What say you?
750No more of drowning, do you hear?
I am changed.
Go to, farewell. Put money enough in your
purse.
425I’ll sell all my land.
He exits.
755Thus do I ever make my fool my purse.
For I mine own gained knowledge should profane
If I would time expend with such a snipe
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor,
430And it is thought abroad that ’twixt my sheets
760’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.
435Cassio’s a proper man. Let me see now:
765To 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.
440He hath a person and a smooth dispose
770To 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 th’ nose
445As asses are.
775I have ’t. It is engendered. Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light.
What from the cape can you discern at sea?
Nothing at all. It is a high-wrought flood.
I cannot ’twixt the heaven and the main
780Descry a sail.
5Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land.
A fuller blast ne’er shook our battlements.
If it hath ruffianed so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
785Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?
10A 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
790mane,
15Seems to cast water on the burning Bear
And quench the guards of th’ ever-fixèd pole.
I never did like molestation view
On the enchafèd flood.
795If that the Turkish fleet
20Be not ensheltered and embayed, they are drowned.
It is impossible to bear it out.
News, lads! Our wars are done.
The desperate tempest hath so banged the Turks
800That their designment halts. A noble ship of Venice
25Hath seen a grievous wrack and sufferance
On most part of their fleet.
How? Is this true?
The ship is here put in,
805A Veronesa. Michael Cassio,
30Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,
Is come on shore; the Moor himself at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
I am glad on ’t. ’Tis a worthy governor.
810But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort
35Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly
And prays the Moor be safe, for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.
Pray heaven he be;
815For I have served him, and the man commands
40Like 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 th’ aerial blue
820An indistinct regard.
45Come, let’s do so;
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,
825That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens
50Give him defense against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea.
Is he well shipped?
His bark is stoutly timbered, and his pilot
830Of very expert and approved allowance;
55Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.
What noise?
The town is empty; on the brow o’ th’ sea
835Stand ranks of people, and they cry “A sail!”
60My hopes do shape him for the Governor.
They do discharge their shot of courtesy.
Our friends, at least.
I pray you, sir, go forth,
840And give us truth who ’tis that is arrived.
65I shall.
He exits.
But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?
Most fortunately. He hath achieved a maid
That paragons description and wild fame,
845One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
70And in th’ essential vesture of creation
Does tire the ingener.
Enter Second Gentleman.
How now? Who has put in?
’Tis one Iago, ancient to the General.
850’Has had most favorable and happy speed!
75Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The guttered rocks and congregated sands
(Traitors ensteeped to clog the guiltless keel),
As having sense of beauty, do omit
855Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
80The divine Desdemona.
What is she?
She that I spake of, our great captain’s captain,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
860Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
85A sennight’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,
865Give renewed fire to our extincted spirits,
90And bring all Cyprus comfort!
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Roderigo, and Emilia.
O, behold,
The riches of the ship is come on shore!
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
He kneels.
870Hail to thee, lady, and the grace of heaven,
95Before, behind thee, and on every hand
Enwheel thee round.
I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell of my lord?
875He is not yet arrived, nor know I aught
100But that he’s well and will be shortly here.
O, but I fear—How lost you company?
The great contention of sea and skies
Parted our fellowship.
Within “A sail, a sail!” A shot.
880But hark, a sail!
105They give their greeting to the citadel.
This likewise is a friend.
See for the news.
Second Gentleman exits.
Good ancient, you are welcome. Welcome, mistress.
He kisses Emilia.
885Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
110That I extend my manners. ’Tis my breeding
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.
Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
890You would have enough.
115Alas, she has no speech!
In faith, too much.
I find it still when I have list to sleep.
Marry, before your Ladyship, I grant,
895She puts her tongue a little in her heart
120And chides with thinking.
You have little cause to say so.
Come on, come on! You are pictures out of door,
bells in your parlors, wildcats in your kitchens,
900saints in your injuries, devils being offended, players
125in your huswifery, and huswives in your beds.
Oh, fie upon thee, slanderer.
Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk.
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.
905You shall not write my praise.
130No, let me not.
What wouldst write of me if thou shouldst praise
me?
O, gentle lady, do not put me to ’t,
910For I am nothing if not critical.
135Come on, assay.—There’s one gone to the harbor?
Ay, madam.
I am not merry, but I do beguile
The thing I am by seeming otherwise.—
915Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
140I am about it, but indeed my invention comes
from my pate as birdlime does from frieze: it
plucks out brains and all. But my muse labors, and
thus she is delivered:
920If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
145The one’s for use, the other useth it.
Well praised! How if she be black and witty?
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She’ll find a white that shall her blackness hit.
925Worse and worse.
150How if fair and foolish?
She never yet was foolish that was fair,
For even her folly helped her to an heir.
These are old fond paradoxes to make
930fools laugh i’ th’ alehouse. What miserable praise
155hast thou for her that’s foul and foolish?
There’s none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
O heavy ignorance! Thou praisest the
935worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on
160a deserving woman indeed, one that in the authority
of her merit did justly put on the vouch of very
malice itself?
She that was ever fair and never proud,
940Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
165Never lacked gold and yet went never gay,
Fled from her wish, and yet said “Now I may,”
She that being angered, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,
945She that in wisdom never was so frail
170To 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—
950To do what?
175To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
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
955profane and liberal counselor?
180He speaks home, madam. You may relish him
more in the soldier than in the scholar.
He takes her by the palm. Ay, well said,
whisper. With as little a web as this will I ensnare as
960great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do. I will
185gyve 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
965you are most apt to play the sir in. Very good; well
190kissed; an excellent courtesy! ’Tis so, indeed. Yet
again your fingers to your lips? Would they were
clyster pipes for your sake!Trumpets within.
The Moor. I know his trumpet.
970’Tis truly so.
195Let’s meet him and receive him.
Lo, where he comes!
Enter Othello and Attendants.
O, my fair warrior!
My dear Othello!
975It gives me wonder great as my content
200To see you here before me. O my soul’s joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have wakened death,
And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas
980Olympus high, and duck again as low
205As 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
985Succeeds in unknown fate.
210The heavens forbid
But that our loves and comforts should increase
Even as our days do grow!
Amen to that, sweet powers!
990I cannot speak enough of this content.
215It stops me here; it is too much of joy.They kiss.
And this, and this, the greatest discords be
That e’er our hearts shall make!
O, you are well tuned now,
995But I’ll set down the pegs that make this music,
220As honest as I am.
Come. Let us to the castle.—
News, friends! Our wars are done. The Turks are
drowned.
1000How does my old acquaintance of this isle?—
225Honey, 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,
1005Go to the bay and disembark my coffers.
230Bring 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.
1010Do thou meet me presently
235at the harbor. To Roderigo. 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
1015watches on the court of guard. First, I must tell thee
240this: Desdemona is directly in love with him.
With him? Why, ’tis not possible.
Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
Mark me with what violence she first loved the
1020Moor but for bragging and telling her fantastical
245lies. 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,
1025there should be, again to inflame it and to give
250satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favor, 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
1030abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and
255abhor 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
1035this fortune as Cassio does? A knave very voluble, no
260further 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
1040subtle knave, a finder-out of occasions, that has an
265eye 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
1045look after. A pestilent complete knave, and the
270woman hath found him already.
I cannot believe that in her. She’s full of
most blessed condition.
Blessed fig’s end! The wine she drinks is made of
1050grapes. If she had been blessed, she would never
275have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou
not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? Didst
not mark that?
Yes, that I did. But that was but courtesy.
1055Lechery, by this hand! An index and obscure
280prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts.
They met so near with their lips that their breaths
embraced together. Villainous thoughts, Roderigo!
When these mutualities so marshal the way, hard
1060at hand comes the master and main exercise, th’
285incorporate conclusion. Pish! But, sir, be you ruled
by me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you
tonight. For the command, I’ll lay ’t upon you.
Cassio knows you not. I’ll not be far from you. Do
1065you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by
290speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline, or from
what other course you please, which the time shall
more favorably minister.
Well.
1070Sir, he’s rash and very sudden in choler, and
295haply 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
1075shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by
300the means I shall then have to prefer them, and the
impediment most profitably removed, without the
which there were no expectation of our prosperity.
I will do this, if you can bring it to any
1080opportunity.
305I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I
must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.
Adieu.
He exits.
That Cassio loves her, I do well believe ’t.
1085That she loves him, ’tis apt and of great credit.
310The 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,
1090Not out of absolute lust (though peradventure
315I stand accountant for as great a sin)
But partly led to diet my revenge
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leaped into my seat—the thought whereof
1095Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards,
320And nothing can or shall content my soul
Till I am evened with him, wife for wife,
Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
1100That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
325If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace
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
1105(For I fear Cassio with my nightcap too),
330Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me
For making him egregiously an ass
And practicing upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness. ’Tis here, but yet confused.
1110Knavery’s plain face is never seen till used.
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
51115dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what
sport and revels his addition 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
101120liberty 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!
Good Michael, look you to the guard tonight.
Let’s teach ourselves that honorable stop
1125Not to outsport discretion.
Iago hath direction what to do,
5But notwithstanding, with my personal eye
Will I look to ’t.
Iago is most honest.
1130Michael, goodnight. Tomorrow with your earliest
Let me have speech with you. To Desdemona. Come,
10my dear love,
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
That profit’s yet to come ’tween me and you.—
1135Goodnight.
Welcome, Iago. We must to the watch.
15Not this hour, lieutenant. ’Tis not yet ten o’ th’
clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of
his Desdemona—who let us not therefore blame;
1140he hath not yet made wanton the night with her, and
she is sport for Jove.
20She’s a most exquisite lady.
And, I’ll warrant her, full of game.
Indeed, she’s a most fresh and delicate
1145creature.
What an eye she has! Methinks it sounds a parley
25to provocation.
An inviting eye, and yet methinks right
modest.
1150And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
She is indeed perfection.
30Well, 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
1155measure to the health of black Othello.
Not tonight, good Iago. I have very poor and
35unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish
courtesy would invent some other custom of
entertainment.
1160O, they are our friends! But one cup; I’ll drink
for you.
40I have drunk but one cup tonight, and that was
craftily qualified too, and behold what innovation it
makes here. I am unfortunate in the infirmity and
1165dare not task my weakness with any more.
What, man! ’Tis a night of revels. The gallants
45desire it.
Where are they?
Here at the door. I pray you, call them in.
1170I’ll do ’t, but it dislikes me.
He exits.
If I can fasten but one cup upon him
50With that which he hath drunk tonight already,
He’ll be as full of quarrel and offense
As my young mistress’ dog. Now my sick fool
1175Roderigo,
Whom love hath turned almost the wrong side out,
55To Desdemona hath tonight caroused
Potations pottle-deep; and he’s to watch.
Three else of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits
1180That hold their honors in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,
60Have I tonight flustered with flowing cups;
And they watch too. Now, ’mongst this flock of
drunkards
1185Am I to put our Cassio in some action
That may offend the isle. But here they come.
65If consequence do but approve my dream,
My boat sails freely both with wind and stream.
’Fore God, they have given me a rouse
1190already.
Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I
70am a soldier.
Some wine, ho!
Sings.And let me the cannikin clink, clink,
1195And let me the cannikin clink.
A soldier’s a man,
75O, man’s life’s but a span,
Why, then, let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys!
1200’Fore God, an excellent song.
I learned it in England, where indeed they are
80most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German,
and your swag-bellied Hollander—drink, ho!—are
nothing to your English.
1205Is your Englishman so exquisite in his
drinking?
85Why, 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
1210pottle can be filled.
To the health of our general!
90I am for it, lieutenant, and I’ll do you
justice.
O sweet England!
Sings.1215King Stephen was and-a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
95He held them sixpence all too dear;
With that he called the tailor lown.
He was a wight of high renown,
1220And thou art but of low degree;
’Tis pride that pulls the country down,
100Then take thy auld cloak about thee.
Some wine, ho!
’Fore God, this is a more exquisite song than
1225the other!
Will you hear ’t again?
105No, 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
1230must not be saved.
It’s true, good lieutenant.
110For mine own part—no offense to the General,
nor any man of quality—I hope to be saved.
And so do I too, lieutenant.
1235Ay, but, by your leave, not before me. The
Lieutenant is to be saved before the Ancient. Let’s
115have no more of this. Let’s to our affairs. God
forgive us our sins! Gentlemen, let’s look to our
business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk. This
1240is my ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my
left. I am not drunk now. I can stand well enough,
120and I speak well enough.
Excellent well.
Why, very well then. You must not think then
1245that I am drunk.
To th’ platform, masters. Come, let’s set the watch.
125You see this fellow that is gone before?
He’s a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
And give direction; and do but see his vice.
1250’Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
The one as long as th’ other. ’Tis pity of him.
130I fear the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.
1255But is he often thus?
’Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.
135He’ll watch the horologe a double set
If drink rock not his cradle.
It were well
1260The General were put in mind of it.
Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature
140Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio
And looks not on his evils. Is not this true?
How now, Roderigo?
1265I pray you, after the Lieutenant, go.
And ’tis great pity that the noble Moor
145Should hazard such a place as his own second
With one of an engraffed infirmity.
It were an honest action to say so
1270To the Moor.
Not I, for this fair island.
150I do love Cassio well and would do much
To cure him of this evil—“Help, help!” within.
But hark! What noise?
1275Zounds, you rogue, you rascal!
What’s the matter, lieutenant?
155A knave teach me my duty? I’ll beat the knave
into a twiggen bottle.
Beat me?
1280Dost thou prate, rogue?
He hits Roderigo.
Nay, good lieutenant. I pray you, sir, hold
160your hand.
Let me go, sir, or I’ll knock you o’er the
mazard.
1285Come, come, you’re drunk.
Drunk?
They fight.
165Away, I say! Go out and cry a mutiny.
Roderigo exits.
Nay, good lieutenant.—God’s will, gentlemen!—
Help, ho! Lieutenant—sir—Montano—sir—
1290Help, masters!—Here’s a goodly watch indeed!
A bell is rung.
Who’s that which rings the bell? Diablo, ho!
170The town will rise. God’s will, lieutenant, hold!
You will be shamed forever.
What is the matter here?
1295Zounds, I bleed
still.
175I am hurt to th’ death. He dies!
Hold, for your lives!
Hold, ho! Lieutenant—sir—Montano—
1300gentlemen—
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
180Hold! The General speaks to you. Hold, for shame!
Why, how now, ho! From whence ariseth this?
Are we turned Turks, and to ourselves do that
1305Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl!
185He 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
1310From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?
Honest Iago, that looks dead with grieving,
190Speak. Who began this? On thy love, I charge thee.
I do not know. Friends all but now, even now,
In quarter and in terms like bride and groom
1315Divesting them for bed; and then but now,
As if some planet had unwitted men,
195Swords out, and tilting one at other’s breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds,
1320And would in action glorious I had lost
Those legs that brought me to a part of it!
200How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?
I pray you pardon me; I cannot speak.
Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil.
1325The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted. And your name is great
205In mouths of wisest censure. What’s the matter
That you unlace your reputation thus,
And spend your rich opinion for the name
1330Of a night-brawler? Give me answer to it.
Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger.
210Your officer Iago can inform you,
While I spare speech, which something now offends
me,
1335Of all that I do know; nor know I aught
By me that’s said or done amiss this night,
215Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend ourselves it be a sin
When violence assails us.
1340Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule,
220And passion, having my best judgment collied,
Assays to lead the way. Zounds, if I stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
1345Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
How this foul rout began, who set it on;
225And he that is approved in this offense,
Though he had twinned with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me. What, in a town of war
1350Yet wild, the people’s hearts brimful of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel,
230In night, and on the court and guard of safety?
’Tis monstrous. Iago, who began ’t?
If partially affined, or leagued in office,
1355Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.
235Touch me not so near.
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
Than it should do offense to Michael Cassio.
1360Yet I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general:
240Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow crying out for help,
And Cassio following him with determined sword
1365To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Pointing to Montano.
Steps in to Cassio and entreats his pause.
245Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest by his clamor—as it so fell out—
The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot,
1370Outran my purpose, and I returned the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords
250And Cassio high in oath, which till tonight
I ne’er might say before. When I came back—
For this was brief—I found them close together
1375At blow and thrust, even as again they were
When you yourself did part them.
255More of this matter cannot I report.
But men are men; the best sometimes forget.
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
1380As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received
260From him that fled some strange indignity
Which patience could not pass.
I know, Iago,
1385Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio.—Cassio, I love thee,
265But nevermore be officer of mine.
Enter Desdemona attended.
Look if my gentle love be not raised up!
I’ll make thee an example.
1390What is the matter, dear?
All’s well now,
270sweeting.
Come away to bed. To Montano. Sir, for your hurts,
Myself will be your surgeon.—Lead him off.
Montano is led off.
1395Iago, look with care about the town
And silence those whom this vile brawl
275distracted.—
Come, Desdemona. ’Tis the soldier’s life
To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
1400What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Ay, past all surgery.
280Marry, God forbid!
Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have
lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of
1405myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,
Iago, my reputation!
285As 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
1410most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost
without deserving. You have lost no reputation at
290all, 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
1415more in policy than in malice, even so as one would
beat his offenseless dog to affright an imperious
295lion. Sue to him again and he’s yours.
I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive
so good a commander with so slight, so drunken,
1420and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? And speak
parrot? And squabble? Swagger? Swear? And discourse
300fustian 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!
1425What was he that you followed with your sword?
What had he done to you?
305I know not.
Is ’t possible?
I remember a mass of things, but nothing
1430distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O
God, that men should put an enemy in their
310mouths to steal away their brains! That we should
with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause transform
ourselves into beasts!
1435Why, but you are now well enough. How came
you thus recovered?
315It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give
place to the devil wrath. One unperfectness shows
me another, to make me frankly despise myself.
1440Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time,
the place, and the condition of this country stands,
320I could heartily wish this had not so befallen. But
since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.
I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell
1445me I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as
Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be
325now 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.
1450Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature,
if it be well used. Exclaim no more against it.
330And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.
I have well approved it, sir.—I drunk!
You or any man living may be drunk at a time,
1455man. I’ll tell you what you shall do. Our general’s
wife is now the general: I may say so in this
335respect, for that he hath devoted and given up
himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement
of her parts and graces. Confess yourself
1460freely to her. Importune her help to put you in your
place again. She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so
340blessed 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
1465her to splinter, and, my fortunes against any lay
worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow
345stronger than it was before.
You advise me well.
I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest
1470kindness.
I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I
350will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake
for me. I am desperate of my fortunes if they check
me here.
1475You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant. I
must to the watch.
355Good night, honest Iago.
Cassio exits.
And what’s he, then, that says I play the villain,
When this advice is free I give and honest,
1480Probal to thinking, and indeed the course
To win the Moor again? For ’tis most easy
360Th’ inclining Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit. She’s framed as fruitful
As the free elements. And then for her
1485To win the Moor—were ’t to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemèd sin—
365His soul is so enfettered to her love
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
Even as her appetite shall play the god
1490With his weak function. How am I then a villain
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course
370Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
When devils will the blackest sins put on,
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,
1495As I do now. For whiles this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune,
375And 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;
1500And by how much she strives to do him good,
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
380So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
And out of her own goodness make the net
That shall enmesh them all.
Enter Roderigo.
1505How now, Roderigo?
I do follow here in the chase, not like a
385hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My
money is almost spent, I have been tonight exceedingly
well cudgeled, and I think the issue will be I
1510shall have so much experience for my pains, and so,
with no money at all and a little more wit, return
390again to Venice.
How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
1515Thou know’st we work by wit and not by witchcraft,
And wit depends on dilatory time.
395Does ’t not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,
And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashiered Cassio.
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
1520Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.
Content thyself awhile. By th’ Mass, ’tis morning!
400Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted.
Away, I say! Thou shalt know more hereafter.
1525Nay, get thee gone.Roderigo exits.
Two things are to be done.
405My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress.
I’ll set her on.
Myself the while to draw the Moor apart
1530And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife. Ay, that’s the way.
410Dull not device by coldness and delay.
Masters, play here (I will content your pains)
Something that’s brief; and bid “Good morrow,
1535general.”
Why masters, have your instruments been in
5Naples, that they speak i’ th’ nose thus?
How, sir, how?
Are these, I pray you, wind instruments?
1540Ay, marry, are they, sir.
O, thereby hangs a tail.
10Whereby hangs a tale, sir?
Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that I
know. But, masters, here’s money for you; and the
1545General so likes your music that he desires you, for
love’s sake, to make no more noise with it.
15Well, sir, we will not.
If you have any music that may not be heard, to
’t again. But, as they say, to hear music the General
1550does not greatly care.
We have none such, sir.
20Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I’ll
away. Go, vanish into air, away!
Dost thou hear, mine honest friend?
1555No, I hear not your honest friend. I hear you.
Prithee, keep up thy quillets.Giving money.
25There’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 favor
1560of speech. Wilt thou do this?
She is stirring, sir. If she will stir hither, I shall
30seem to notify unto her.
Do, good my friend.Clown exits.
Enter Iago.
In happy time, Iago.
1565You have not been abed, then?
Why, no. The day had broke
35Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,
To send in to your wife. My suit to her
Is that she will to virtuous Desdemona
1570Procure me some access.
I’ll send her to you presently,
40And I’ll devise a mean to draw the Moor
Out of the way, that your converse and business
May be more free.
1575I humbly thank you for ’t. Iago exits. I never
knew
45A Florentine more kind and honest.
Good morrow, good lieutenant. I am sorry
For your displeasure, but all will sure be well.
1580The General and his wife are talking of it,
And she speaks for you stoutly. The Moor replies
50That 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
1585loves you
And needs no other suitor but his likings
55To take the safest occasion by the front
To bring you in again.
Yet I beseech you,
1590If you think fit, or that it may be done,
Give me advantage of some brief discourse
60With Desdemon alone.
Pray you come in.
I will bestow you where you shall have time
1595To speak your bosom freely.
I am much bound to you.
They exit.
These letters give, Iago, to the pilot
And by him do my duties to the Senate.
He gives Iago some papers.
That done, I will be walking on the works.
1600Repair there to me.
5Well, my good lord, I’ll do ’t.
This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see ’t?
We wait upon your Lordship.
Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
1605All my abilities in thy behalf.
Good madam, do. I warrant it grieves my husband
As if the cause were his.
5O, that’s an honest fellow! Do not doubt, Cassio,
But I will have my lord and you again
1610As friendly as you were.
Bounteous madam,
Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
10He’s never anything but your true servant.
I know ’t. I thank you. You do love my lord;
1615You have known him long; and be you well assured
He shall in strangeness stand no farther off
Than in a politic distance.
15Ay, but, lady,
That policy may either last so long,
1620Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
That, I being absent and my place supplied,
20My general will forget my love and service.
Do not doubt that. Before Emilia here,
1625I 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:
25I’ll watch him tame and talk him out of patience;
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
1630I’ll intermingle everything he does
With Cassio’s suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio,
For thy solicitor shall rather die
30Than give thy cause away.
Madam, here comes my lord.
1635Madam, I’ll take my leave.
Why, stay, and hear me speak.
Madam, not now. I am very ill at ease,
35Unfit for mine own purposes.
Well, do your discretion.
Cassio exits.
1640Ha, I like not that.
What dost thou say?
Nothing, my lord; or if—I know not what.
40Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?
Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think it
1645That he would steal away so guiltylike,
Seeing your coming.
I do believe ’twas he.
45How now, my lord?
I have been talking with a suitor here,
1650A man that languishes in your displeasure.
Who is ’t you mean?
Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,
50If I have any grace or power to move you,
His present reconciliation take;
1655For 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.
55I prithee call him back.
Went he hence now?
1660Yes, faith, so humbled
That he hath left part of his grief with me
To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.
60Not now, sweet Desdemon. Some other time.
But shall ’t be shortly?
1665The sooner, sweet, for you.
Shall ’t be tonight at supper?
No, not tonight.
65Tomorrow dinner, then?
I shall not dine at home;
1670I meet the captains at the citadel.
Why then tomorrow night, or Tuesday morn,
On Tuesday noon or night; on Wednesday morn.
70I prithee name the time, but let it not
Exceed three days. In faith, he’s penitent;
1675And yet his trespass, in our common reason—
Save that, they say, the wars must make example
Out of her best—is not almost a fault
75T’ incur a private check. When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul
1680What you would ask me that I should deny,
Or stand so mamm’ring on? What? Michael Cassio,
That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time,
80When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta’en your part—to have so much to do
1685To bring him in! By ’r Lady, I could do much—
Prithee, no more. Let him come when he will;
I will deny thee nothing.
85Why, this is not a boon!
’Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
1690Or 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
90Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poise and difficult weight,
1695And fearful to be granted.
I will deny thee nothing!
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
95To leave me but a little to myself.
Shall I deny you? No. Farewell, my lord.
1700Farewell, my Desdemona. I’ll come to thee straight.
Emilia, come.—Be as your fancies teach you.
Whate’er you be, I am obedient.
100Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul
But I do love thee! And when I love thee not,
1705Chaos is come again.
My noble lord—
What dost thou say, Iago?
105Did Michael Cassio,
When you wooed my lady, know of your love?
1710He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask?
But for a satisfaction of my thought,
No further harm.
110Why of thy thought, Iago?
I did not think he had been acquainted with her.
1715O yes, and went between us very oft.
Indeed?
Indeed? Ay, indeed! Discern’st thou aught in that?
115Is he not honest?
Honest, my lord?
1720Honest—ay, honest.
My lord, for aught I know.
What dost thou think?
120Think, my lord?
“Think, my lord?” By heaven, thou echo’st me
1725As if there were some monster in thy thought
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean
something.
125I heard thee say even now, thou lik’st not that,
When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like?
1730And when I told thee he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou cried’st
“Indeed?”
130And didst contract and purse thy brow together
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
1735Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.
My lord, you know I love you.
135I think thou dost;
And for I know thou ’rt full of love and honesty
1740And weigh’st thy words before thou giv’st them
breath,
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more.
140For such things in a false, disloyal knave
Are tricks of custom; but in a man that’s just,
1745They’re close dilations working from the heart
That passion cannot rule.
For Michael Cassio,
145I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.
I think so too.
1750Men should be what they seem;
Or those that be not, would they might seem none!
Certain, men should be what they seem.
150Why then, I think Cassio’s an honest man.
Nay, yet there’s more in this.
1755I prithee speak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of
thoughts
155The worst of words.
Good my lord, pardon me.
1760Though 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
160false—
As where’s that palace whereinto foul things
1765Sometimes intrude not? Who has that breast so
pure
But some uncleanly apprehensions
165Keep leets and law days and in sessions sit
With meditations lawful?
1770Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but think’st him wronged and mak’st his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.
170I do beseech you,
Though I perchance am vicious in my guess—
1775As, I confess, it is my nature’s plague
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not—that your wisdom
175From one that so imperfectly conceits
Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble
1780Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
It were not for your quiet nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom,
180To let you know my thoughts.
What dost thou mean?
1785Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse steals trash. ’Tis something,
185nothing;
’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to
1790thousands.
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
190And makes me poor indeed.
By heaven, I’ll know thy thoughts.
1795You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,
Nor shall not, whilst ’tis in my custody.
Ha?
195O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
1800The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o’er
200Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves!
O misery!
1805Poor and content is rich, and rich enough;
But riches fineless is as poor as winter
To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
205Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!
1810Why, why is this?
Think’st thou I’d make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
210With fresh suspicions? No. To be once in doubt
Is once to be resolved. Exchange me for a goat
1815When I shall turn the business of my soul
To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
Matching thy inference. ’Tis not to make me jealous
215To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well.
1820Where virtue is, these are more virtuous.
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt,
220For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago,
I’ll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
1825And on the proof, there is no more but this:
Away at once with love or jealousy.
I am glad of this, for now I shall have reason
225To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit. Therefore, as I am bound,
1830Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
Wear your eyes thus, not jealous nor secure.
230I would not have your free and noble nature,
Out of self-bounty, be abused. Look to ’t.
1835I know our country disposition well.
In Venice they do let God see the pranks
They dare not show their husbands. Their best
235conscience
Is not to leave ’t undone, but keep ’t unknown.
1840Dost thou say so?
She did deceive her father, marrying you,
And when she seemed to shake and fear your looks,
240She loved them most.
And so she did.
1845Why, go to, then!
She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
To seel her father’s eyes up close as oak,
245He thought ’twas witchcraft! But I am much to
blame.
1850I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
For too much loving you.
I am bound to thee forever.
250I see this hath a little dashed your spirits.
Not a jot, not a jot.
1855I’ faith, I fear it has.
I hope you will consider what is spoke
Comes from my love. But I do see you’re moved.
255I am to pray you not to strain my speech
To grosser issues nor to larger reach
1860Than to suspicion.
I will not.
Should you do so, my lord,
260My speech should fall into such vile success
As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio’s my worthy
1865friend.
My lord, I see you’re moved.
No, not much moved.
265I do not think but Desdemona’s honest.
Long live she so! And long live you to think so!
1870And yet, how nature erring from itself—
Ay, there’s the point. As, to be bold with you,
Not to affect many proposèd matches
270Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
Whereto we see in all things nature tends—
1875Foh! One may smell in such a will most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural—
But pardon me—I do not in position
275Distinctly speak of her, though I may fear
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
1880May fall to match you with her country forms
And happily repent.
Farewell, farewell!
280If more thou dost perceive, let me know more.
Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, Iago.
1885My lord, I take my leave.
Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
285My lord, I would I might entreat your Honor
To scan this thing no farther. Leave it to time.
1890Although ’tis fit that Cassio have his place—
For sure he fills it up with great ability—
Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
290You shall by that perceive him and his means.
Note if your lady strain his entertainment
1895With any strong or vehement importunity.
Much will be seen in that. In the meantime,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears—
295As worthy cause I have to fear I am—
And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor.
1900Fear not my government.
I once more take my leave.
He exits.
This fellow’s of exceeding honesty,
300And knows all qualities with a learnèd spirit
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
1905Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
I’d whistle her off and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black
305And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have, or for I am declined
1910Into 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,
310That we can call these delicate creatures ours
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad
1915And live upon the vapor of a dungeon
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others’ uses. Yet ’tis the plague of great ones;
315Prerogatived are they less than the base.
’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.
1920Even then this forkèd plague is fated to us
When we do quicken. Look where she comes.
Enter Desdemona and Emilia.
If she be false, heaven mocks itself!
320I’ll not believe ’t.
How now, my dear Othello?
1925Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.
I am to blame.
325Why do you speak so faintly? Are you not well?
I have a pain upon my forehead, here.
1930Faith, that’s with watching. ’Twill away again.
Let me but bind it hard; within this hour
It will be well.
330Your napkin is too little.
Let it alone.The handkerchief falls, unnoticed.
1935Come, I’ll go in with you.
I am very sorry that you are not well.
I am glad I have found this napkin.
335This was her first remembrance from the Moor.
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
1940Wooed 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
340To kiss and talk to. I’ll have the work ta’en out
And give ’t Iago. What he will do with it
1945Heaven knows, not I.
I nothing but to please his fantasy.
How now? What do you here alone?
345Do not you chide. I have a thing for you.
You have a thing for me? It is a common thing—
1950Ha?
To have a foolish wife.
O, is that all? What will you give me now
350For that same handkerchief?
What handkerchief?
1955What handkerchief?
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona,
That which so often you did bid me steal.
355Hast stol’n it from her?
No, faith, she let it drop by negligence,
1960And to th’ advantage I, being here, took ’t up.
Look, here ’tis.
A good wench! Give it me.
360What will you do with ’t, that you have been so
earnest
1965To have me filch it?
Why, what is that to you?
If it be not for some purpose of import,
365Give ’t me again. Poor lady, she’ll run mad
When she shall lack it.
1970Be not acknown on ’t.
I have use for it. Go, leave me.Emilia exits.
I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin
370And let him find it. Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
1975As proofs of holy writ. This may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison;
Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons,
375Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
But with a little act upon the blood
1980Burn like the mines of sulfur.
Enter Othello.
I did say so.
Look where he comes. Not poppy nor mandragora
380Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
1985Which thou owedst yesterday.
Ha, ha, false to me?
Why, how now, general? No more of that!
385Avaunt! Begone! Thou hast set me on the rack.
I swear ’tis better to be much abused
1990Than but to know ’t a little.
How now, my lord?
What sense had I of her stol’n hours of lust?
390I saw ’t not, thought it not; it harmed not me.
I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and
1995merry.
I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips.
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol’n,
395Let him not know ’t, and he’s not robbed at all.
I am sorry to hear this.
2000I had been happy if the general camp,
Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. O, now, forever
400Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content!
Farewell the plumèd troops and the big wars
2005That makes ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th’ ear-piercing fife,
405The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
2010And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th’ immortal Jove’s dread clamors counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone!
410Is ’t possible, my lord?
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore!
2015Be sure of it. Give me the ocular proof,
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
415Than answer my waked wrath.
Is ’t come to this?
2020Make 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!
420My noble lord—
If thou dost slander her and torture me,
2025Never pray more. Abandon all remorse;
On horror’s head horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all Earth amazed;
425For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.
2030O grace! O heaven forgive me!
Are you a man? Have you a soul or sense?
God b’ wi’ you. Take mine office.—O wretched fool,
430That liv’st to make thine honesty a vice!—
O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world:
2035To 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 offense.
435Nay, stay. Thou shouldst be honest.
I should be wise; for honesty’s a fool
2040And loses that it works for.
By the world,
I think my wife be honest and think she is not.
440I think that thou art just and think thou art not.
I’ll have some proof! Her name, that was as fresh
2045As Dian’s visage, is now begrimed and black
As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
445I’ll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!
I see you are eaten up with passion.
2050I do repent me that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?
Would? Nay, and I will.
450And may; but how? How satisfied, my lord?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on,
2055Behold her topped?
Death and damnation! O!
It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
455To bring them to that prospect. Damn them then
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
2060More than their own! What then? How then?
What shall I say? Where’s satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this,
460Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
2065As ignorance made drunk. But yet I say,
If imputation and strong circumstances
Which lead directly to the door of truth
465Will give you satisfaction, you might have ’t.
Give me a living reason she’s disloyal.
2070I do not like the office,
But sith I am entered in this cause so far,
Pricked to ’t by foolish honesty and love,
470I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately,
And being troubled with a raging tooth
2075I 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.
475In sleep I heard him say “Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves.”
2080And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
Cry “O sweet creature!” then kiss me hard,
As if he plucked up kisses by the roots
480That grew upon my lips; then laid his leg
O’er my thigh, and sighed, and kissed, and then
2085Cried “Cursèd fate that gave thee to the Moor!”
O monstrous! Monstrous!
Nay, this was but his
485dream.
But this denoted a foregone conclusion.
2090’Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.
And this may help to thicken other proofs
That do demonstrate thinly.
490I’ll tear her all to pieces.
Nay, but be wise. Yet we see nothing done.
2095She may be honest yet. Tell me but this:
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
Spotted with strawberries in your wife’s hand?
495I gave her such a one. ’Twas my first gift.
I know not that; but such a handkerchief—
2100I am sure it was your wife’s—did I today
See Cassio wipe his beard with.
If it be that—
500If it be that, or any that was hers,
It speaks against her with the other proofs.
2105O, 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,
505All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven.
’Tis gone.
2110Arise, black vengeance, from the hollow hell!
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
510For ’tis of aspics’ tongues!
Yet be content.
2115O, blood, blood, blood!
Patience, I say. Your mind perhaps may change.
Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea,
515Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne’er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
2120To the Propontic and the Hellespont,
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace
Shall ne’er look back, ne’er ebb to humble love,
520Till that a capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up. He kneels. Now by yond marble
2125heaven,
In the due reverence of a sacred vow,
I here engage my words.
525Do not rise yet.Iago kneels.
Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
2130You elements that clip us round about,
Witness that here Iago doth give up
The execution of his wit, hands, heart
530To wronged Othello’s service! Let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
2135What bloody business ever.
I greet thy love
Not with vain thanks but with acceptance
535bounteous,
And will upon the instant put thee to ’t.
2140Within these three days let me hear thee say
That Cassio’s not alive.
My friend is dead.
540’Tis done at your request. But let her live.
Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her, damn
2145her!
Come, go with me apart. I will withdraw
To furnish me with some swift means of death
545For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.
I am your own forever.
They exit.
2150Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant
Cassio lies?
I dare not say he lies anywhere.
Why, man?
5He’s a soldier, and for me to say a soldier lies,
2155’tis stabbing.
Go to! Where lodges he?
To tell you where he lodges is to tell you
where I lie.
10Can anything be made of this?
2160I 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.
Can you inquire him out, and be edified
15by report?
2165I will catechize the world for him—that is,
make questions, and by them answer.
Seek him, bid him come hither. Tell him I
have moved my lord on his behalf and hope all will
20be well.
2170To do this is within the compass of man’s wit,
and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?
I know not, madam.
25Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
2175Full 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.
30Is he not jealous?
2180Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
Drew all such humors from him.
Look where he
comes.
35I will not leave him now till Cassio
2185Be called to him.—How is ’t with you, my lord?
Well, my good lady. Aside. O, hardness to
dissemble!—
How do you, Desdemona?
40Well, my good lord.
2190Give me your hand. He takes her hand. This hand
is moist, my lady.
It yet has felt no age nor known no sorrow.
This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart.
45Hot, hot, and moist. This hand of yours requires
2195A 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,
50A frank one.
2200You may indeed say so,
For ’twas that hand that gave away my heart.
A liberal hand! The hearts of old gave hands,
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
55I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.
2205What promise, chuck?
I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me.
Lend me thy handkerchief.
60Here, my lord.
2210That which I gave you.
I have it not about me.
Not?
No, faith, my lord.
65That’s a fault. That handkerchief
2215Did 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,
70’Twould make her amiable and subdue my father
2220Entirely to her love. But if she lost it,
Or made a gift of it, my father’s eye
Should hold her loathèd, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me,
75And bid me, when my fate would have me wived,
2225To 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.
80Is ’t possible?
2230’Tis true. There’s magic in the web of it.
A sybil that had numbered in the world
The sun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sewed the work.
85The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk,
2235And it was dyed in mummy, which the skillful
Conserved of maidens’ hearts.
I’ faith, is ’t true?
Most veritable. Therefore, look to ’t well.
90Then would to God that I had never seen ’t!
2240Ha? Wherefore?
Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
Is ’t lost? Is ’t gone? Speak, is ’t out o’ th’ way?
Heaven bless us!
95Say you?
2245It is not lost, but what an if it were?
How?
I say it is not lost.
Fetch ’t. Let me see ’t!
100Why, so I can. But I will not now.
2250This is a trick to put me from my suit.
Pray you, let Cassio be received again.
Fetch me the handkerchief! Aside. My mind
misgives.
105Come, come.
2255You’ll never meet a more sufficient man.
The handkerchief!
I pray, talk me of Cassio.
The handkerchief!
110A man that all his time
2260Hath founded his good fortunes on your love;
Shared dangers with you—
The handkerchief!
I’ faith, you are to blame.
115Zounds!
Othello exits.2265Is not this man jealous?
I ne’er saw this before.
Sure, there’s some wonder in this handkerchief!
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
120’Tis not a year or two shows us a man.
2270They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full
They belch us.
Enter Iago and Cassio.
Look you—Cassio and my husband.
125There is no other way; ’tis she must do ’t,
2275And, lo, the happiness! Go and importune her.
How now, good Cassio, what’s the news with you?
Madam, my former suit. I do beseech you
That by your virtuous means I may again
130Exist, and be a member of his love
2280Whom I with all the office of my heart
Entirely honor. I would not be delayed.
If my offense be of such mortal kind
That nor my service past nor present sorrows
135Nor purposed merit in futurity
2285Can 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
140To fortune’s alms.
2290Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio,
My advocation is not now in tune.
My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him
Were he in favor as in humor altered.
145So help me every spirit sanctified
2295As 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
150Than for myself I dare. Let that suffice you.
2300Is my lord angry?
He went hence but now,
And certainly in strange unquietness.
Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon
155When it hath blown his ranks into the air
2305And, like the devil, from his very arm
Puffed his own brother—and is he angry?
Something of moment then. I will go meet him.
There’s matter in ’t indeed if he be angry.
160I prithee do so.He exits.
2310Something, sure, of state,
Either from Venice, or some unhatched practice
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases
165Men’s natures wrangle with inferior things,
2315Though great ones are their object. ’Tis even so.
For let our finger ache, and it endues
Our other healthful members even to a sense
Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods,
170Nor of them look for such observancy
2320As fits 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 suborned the witness,
175And he’s indicted falsely.
2325Pray heaven it be
State matters, as you think, and no conception
Nor no jealous toy concerning you.
Alas the day, I never gave him cause!
180But jealous souls will not be answered so.
2330They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they’re jealous. It is a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Heaven keep that monster from Othello’s mind!
185Lady, amen.
2335I 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.
I humbly thank your Ladyship.
Desdemona and Emilia exit.Enter Bianca.
190’Save you, friend Cassio!
2340What make you from
home?
How is ’t with you, my most fair Bianca?
I’ faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.
195And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
2345What, keep a week away? Seven days and nights,
Eightscore eight hours, and lovers’ absent hours
More tedious than the dial eightscore times?
O weary reck’ning!
200Pardon me, Bianca.
2350I have this while with leaden thoughts been pressed,
But I shall in a more continuate time
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,
Giving her Desdemona’s handkerchief.
Take me this work out.
205O, Cassio, whence came this?
2355This is some token from a newer friend.
To the felt absence now I feel a cause.
Is ’t come to this? Well, well.
Go to, woman!
210Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth,
2360From whence you have them. You are jealous now
That this is from some mistress, some
remembrance.
No, by my faith, Bianca.
215Why, whose is it?
2365I know not neither. I found it in my chamber.
I like the work well. Ere it be demanded,
As like enough it will, I would have it copied.
Take it, and do ’t, and leave me for this time.
220Leave you? Wherefore?
2370I do attend here on the General,
And think it no addition, nor my wish,
To have him see me womaned.
Why, I pray you?
225Not that I love you not.
2375But 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.
’Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
230For I attend here. But I’ll see you soon.
2380’Tis very good. I must be circumstanced.
Will you think so?
Think so, Iago?
23830What,
To kiss in private?
5An unauthorized kiss!
238552385Or to be naked with her friend in bed
An hour or more, not meaning any harm?
Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm?
It is hypocrisy against the devil!
10They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
2390102390The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt
heaven.
If they do nothing, ’tis a venial slip.
But if I give my wife a handkerchief—
15What then?
2395152395Why then, ’tis hers, my lord, and being hers,
She may, I think, bestow ’t on any man.
She is protectress of her honor, too.
May she give that?
20Her honor is an essence that’s not seen;
2400202400They have it very oft that have it not.
But for the handkerchief—
By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it.
Thou saidst—O, it comes o’er my memory
25As doth the raven o’er the infectious house,
2405252405Boding to all—he had my handkerchief.
Ay, what of that?
That’s not so good now.
24080What
30If I had said I had seen him do you wrong?
Or heard him say (as knaves be such abroad,
2410302410Who having, by their own importunate suit
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
Convincèd or supplied them, cannot choose
35But they must blab)—
Hath he said anything?
2415352415He hath, my lord, but be you well assured,
No more than he’ll unswear.
What hath he said?
40Faith, that he did—I know not what he did.
What? What?
2420402420Lie—
With her?
With her—on her—what you will.
45Lie with her? Lie on her? We say “lie on her”
when they belie her. Lie with her—Zounds, that’s
2425452425fulsome! Handkerchief—confessions—handkerchief.
To confess and be hanged for his labor.
First to be hanged and then to confess—I tremble
50at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing
passion without some instruction. It is not
2430502430words that shakes me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and
lips—is ’t possible? Confess—handkerchief—O,
devil!
55Work on,
My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are
2435552435caught,
And many worthy and chaste dames even thus,
All guiltless, meet reproach.—What ho! My lord!
60My lord, I say. Othello!
Enter Cassio.
How now, Cassio?
2440602440What’s the matter?
My lord is fall’n into an epilepsy.
This is his second fit. He had one yesterday.
65Rub him about the temples.
No, forbear.
2445652445The lethargy must have his quiet course.
If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by
Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs.
70Do you withdraw yourself a little while.
He will recover straight. When he is gone,
2450702450I would on great occasion speak with you.
Cassio exits.
How is it, general? Have you not hurt your head?
Dost thou mock me?
75I mock you not, by heaven!
Would you would bear your fortune like a man!
2455752455A hornèd man’s a monster and a beast.
There’s many a beast, then, in a populous city,
And many a civil monster.
80Did he confess it?
Good sir, be a man!
2460802460Think every bearded fellow that’s but yoked
May draw with you. There’s millions now alive
That nightly lie in those unproper beds
85Which they dare swear peculiar. Your case is better.
O, ’tis the spite of hell, the fiend’s arch-mock,
2465852465To 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.
90O, thou art wise, ’tis certain.
Stand you awhile apart.
2470902470Confine yourself but in a patient list.
Whilst you were here, o’erwhelmèd with your grief—
A passion most unsuiting such a man—
95Cassio came hither. I shifted him away
And laid good ’scuses upon your ecstasy,
2475952475Bade 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
100That dwell in every region of his face.
For I will make him tell the tale anew—
24801002480Where, 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,
105Or I shall say you’re all in all in spleen,
And nothing of a man.
24851052485Dost thou hear, Iago,
I will be found most cunning in my patience,
But (dost thou hear?) most bloody.
110That’s not amiss.
But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?
Othello withdraws.
24901102490Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
A huswife that by selling her desires
Buys herself bread and clothes. It is a creature
115That dotes on Cassio—as ’tis the strumpet’s plague
To beguile many and be beguiled by one.
24951152495He, when he hears of her, cannot restrain
From the excess of laughter. Here he comes.
Enter Cassio.
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad,
120And his unbookish jealousy must construe
Poor Cassio’s smiles, gestures, and light behaviors
25001202500Quite in the wrong.—How do you, lieutenant?
The worser that you give me the addition
Whose want even kills me.
125Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on ’t.
Now, if this suit lay in Bianca’s power,
25051252505How quickly should you speed!
Alas, poor caitiff!
Look how he laughs already!
130I never knew woman love man so.
Alas, poor rogue, I think i’ faith she loves me.
25101302510Now he denies it faintly and laughs it out.
Do you hear, Cassio?
Now he importunes him
135To tell it o’er. Go to, well said, well said.
She gives it out that you shall marry her.
25151352515Do you intend it?
Ha, ha, ha!
Do you triumph, Roman? Do you triumph?
140I marry her? What, a customer? Prithee bear
some charity to my wit! Do not think it so unwholesome.
25201402520Ha, ha, ha!
So, so, so, so. They laugh that wins.
Faith, the cry goes that you marry her.
145Prithee say true!
I am a very villain else.
25251452525Have you scored me? Well.
This is the monkey’s own giving out. She is
persuaded I will marry her out of her own love and
150flattery, not out of my promise.
Iago beckons me. Now he begins the story.
25301502530She 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
155the bauble. By this hand, she falls thus about my
neck!
25351552535Crying, “O dear Cassio,” as it were; his
gesture imports it.
So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me, so
160shakes and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha!
Now he tells how she plucked him to my
25401602540chamber.—O, I see that nose of yours, but not that
dog I shall throw it to.
Well, I must leave her company.
165Before me, look where she comes.
Enter Bianca.
’Tis such another fitchew—marry, a perfumed
25451652545one!—What do you mean by this haunting
of me?
Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did
170you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me
even now? I was a fine fool to take it! I must take
25501702550out the work? A likely piece of work, that you
should find it in your chamber and know not who
left it there! This is some minx’s token, and I must
175take out the work! There, give it your hobbyhorse.
Wheresoever you had it, I’ll take out no work on ’t.
25551752555How now, my sweet Bianca? How now? How now?
By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!
If you’ll come to supper tonight you may. If
180you will not, come when you are next prepared
for.
25601802560After her, after her!
Faith, I must. She’ll rail in the streets else.
Will you sup there?
185Faith, I intend so.
Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very
25651852565fain speak with you.
Prithee come. Will you?
Go to; say no more.
Cassio exits.
190How shall I murder him,
Iago?
25701902570Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?
O Iago!
And did you see the handkerchief?
195Was that mine?
Yours, by this hand! And to see how he prizes
25751952575the foolish woman your wife! She gave it him, and
he hath giv’n it his whore.
I would have him nine years a-killing! A fine
200woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman!
Nay, you must forget that.
25802002580Ay, 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
205world hath not a sweeter creature! She might lie by
an emperor’s side and command him tasks.
25852052585Nay, that’s not your way.
Hang her, I do but say what she is! So
delicate with her needle, an admirable musician—
210O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!
Of so high and plenteous wit and invention!
25902102590She’s the worse for all this.
O, a thousand, a thousand times!—And then
of so gentle a condition!
215Ay, too gentle.
Nay, that’s certain. But yet the pity of it,
25952152595Iago! O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago!
If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her
patent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes
220near nobody.
I will chop her into messes! Cuckold me?
26002202600O, ’tis foul in her.
With mine officer!
That’s fouler.
225Get me some poison, Iago, this night. I’ll not
expostulate with her lest her body and beauty
26052252605unprovide my mind again. This night, Iago.
Do it not with poison. Strangle her in her bed,
even the bed she hath contaminated.
230Good, good. The justice of it pleases. Very
good.
26102302610And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker. You
shall hear more by midnight.
Excellent good.A trumpet sounds.
235What trumpet is that same?
I warrant something from Venice.
Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants.
26152352615’Tis Lodovico. This comes from the Duke.
See, your wife’s with him.
God save you, worthy general.
240With all my heart, sir.
The Duke and the Senators of Venice greet you.
26202402620I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
And what’s the news, good cousin Lodovico?
I am very glad to see you, signior.
245Welcome to Cyprus.
I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?
26252452625Lives, sir.
Cousin, there’s fall’n between him and my lord
An unkind breach, but you shall make all well.
250Are you sure of that?
My lord?
26302502630“This fail you not to do, as you
will”—
He did not call; he’s busy in the paper.
255Is there division ’twixt my lord and Cassio?
A most unhappy one. I would do much
26352552635T’ atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.
Fire and brimstone!
My lord?
260Are you wise?
What, is he angry?
26402602640May be the letter moved him.
For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.
265By my troth, I am glad on ’t.
Indeed?
26452652645My lord?
I am glad to see you mad.
Why, sweet Othello!
270Devil!
I have not deserved this.
26502702650My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw ’t. ’Tis very much.
Make her amends. She weeps.
275O, devil, devil!
If that the Earth could teem with woman’s tears,
26552752655Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!
I will not stay to offend you.
She begins to leave.
280Truly an obedient lady.
I do beseech your Lordship call her back.
26602802660Mistress.
My lord?
What would you with her, sir?
285Who, I, my lord?
Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn.
26652852665Sir, 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.
290Very obedient.—Proceed you in your tears.—
Concerning this, sir—O, well-painted passion!—
26702902670I am commanded home.—Get you away.
I’ll send for you anon.—Sir, I obey the mandate
And will return to Venice.—Hence, avaunt!
Desdemona exits.
295Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight
I do entreat that we may sup together.
26752952675You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and
monkeys!
Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senate
300Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature
Whom passion could not shake, whose solid virtue
26803002680The shot of accident nor dart of chance
Could neither graze nor pierce?
He is much
305changed.
Are his wits safe? Is he not light of brain?
26853052685He’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.
310What? Strike his wife?
’Faith, that was not so well. Yet would I knew
26903102690That stroke would prove the worst.
Is it his use?
Or did the letters work upon his blood
315And new-create this fault?
Alas, alas!
26953152695It is not honesty in me to speak
What I have seen and known. You shall observe
him,
320And his own courses will denote him so
That I may save my speech. Do but go after
27003202700And mark how he continues.
I am sorry that I am deceived in him.
You have seen nothing then?
Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.
Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
2705But then I saw no harm, and then I heard
5Each syllable that breath made up between them.
What, did they never whisper?
Never, my lord.
Nor send you out o’ th’ way?
2710Never.
10To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
Never, my lord.
That’s strange.
I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
2715Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other,
15Remove 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,
2720There’s no man happy. The purest of their wives
20Is foul as slander.
Bid her come hither. Go.
Emilia exits.
She says enough. Yet she’s a simple bawd
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
2725A closet lock and key of villainous secrets.
25And yet she’ll kneel and pray. I have seen her do ’t.
My lord, what is your will?
Pray you, chuck, come hither.
What is your
2730pleasure?
30Let me see your eyes. Look in my face.
What horrible fancy’s this?
Some of your function,
mistress.
2735Leave procreants alone, and shut the door.
35Cough, or cry “hem,” if anybody come.
Your mystery, your mystery! Nay, dispatch.
Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words,
2740But not the words.
40Why? What art thou?
Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife.
Come, swear it. Damn thyself,
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
2745Should fear to seize thee. Therefore be double
45damned.
Swear thou art honest.
Heaven doth truly know it.
Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.
2750To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I false?
50Ah, Desdemon, away, away, away!
Alas the heavy day, why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
If haply you my father do suspect
2755An instrument of this your calling back,
55Lay not your blame on me. If you have lost him,
I have lost him too.
Had it pleased heaven
To try me with affliction, had they rained
2760All kind of sores and shames on my bare head,
60Steeped 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
2765A fixèd figure for the time of scorn
65To point his slow unmoving finger at—
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well.
But there where I have garnered up my heart,
Where either I must live or bear no life,
2770The fountain from the which my current runs
70Or else dries up—to be discarded thence,
Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
To knot and gender in—turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rose-lipped cherubin,
2775Ay, there look grim as hell.
75I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
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
2780That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst
80ne’er been born!
Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write “whore” upon? What committed?
2785Committed? O thou public commoner,
85I 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;
2790The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets
90Is hushed within the hollow mine of earth
And will not hear ’t. What committed?
Impudent strumpet!
By heaven, you do me wrong!
2795Are not you a strumpet?
95No, 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.
2800What, not a whore?
100No, as I shall be saved.
Is ’t possible?
O, heaven forgive us!
I cry you mercy, then.
2805I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
105That married with Othello.—You, mistress,
Enter Emilia.
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
2810pains.He gives her money.
110I pray you turn the key and keep our counsel.
Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
How do you, madam? How do you, my good lady?
Faith, half asleep.
2815Good madam, what’s the matter with my lord?
115With who?
Why, with my lord, madam.
Who is thy lord?
He that is yours, sweet lady.
2820I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia.
120I cannot weep, nor answers have I none
But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets. Remember.
And call thy husband hither.
2825Here’s a change indeed.
She exits.
125’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?
What is your pleasure, madam? How is ’t with you?
2830I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes
130Do it with gentle means and easy tasks.
He might have chid me so, for, in good faith,
I am a child to chiding.
What is the matter, lady?
2835Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her,
135Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her
As true hearts cannot bear.
Am I that name, Iago?
What name, fair
2840lady?
140Such as she said my lord did say I was.
He called her “whore.” A beggar in his drink
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.
Why did he so?
2845I do not know. I am sure I am none such.
145Do not weep, do not weep! Alas the day!
Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father and her country and her friends,
To be called “whore”? Would it not make one
2850weep?
150It is my wretched fortune.
Beshrew him for ’t! How comes this trick upon him?
Nay, heaven doth know.
I will be hanged if some eternal villain,
2855Some busy and insinuating rogue,
155Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devised this slander. I will be hanged else.
Fie, there is no such man. It is impossible.
If any such there be, heaven pardon him.
2860A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones!
160Why should he call her “whore”? Who keeps her
company?
What place? What time? What form? What
likelihood?
2865The Moor’s abused by some most villainous knave,
165Some 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,
2870Even from the east to th’ west!
170Speak within door.
O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was
That turned your wit the seamy side without
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
2875You are a fool. Go to!
175Alas, 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. She kneels. Here I
2880kneel.
180If 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,
2885Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
185And ever will—though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement—love him dearly,
Comfort forswear me! She stands. Unkindness may
do much,
2890And his unkindness may defeat my life,
190But 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.
2895I pray you be content. ’Tis but his humor.
195The business of the state does him offense,
And he does chide with you.
If ’twere no other—
It is but so, I warrant.
Trumpets sound.
2900Hark how these instruments summon to supper.
200The messengers of Venice stays the meat.
Go in and weep not. All things shall be well.
Desdemona and Emilia exit.
Enter Roderigo.
How now, Roderigo?
I do not find
2905That thou deal’st justly with me.
205What in the contrary?
Every day thou daff’st me with some device,
Iago, and rather, as it seems to me now,
keep’st from me all conveniency than suppliest me
2910with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed no
210longer endure it. Nor am I yet persuaded to put up
in peace what already I have foolishly suffered.
Will you hear me, Roderigo?
Faith, I have heard too much, and your
2915words and performances are no kin together.
215You charge me most unjustly.
With 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
2920corrupted a votaress. You have told me she hath
220received them, and returned me expectations and
comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance, but I
find none.
Well, go to! Very well.
2925“Very well.” “Go to!” I cannot go to, man,
225nor ’tis not very well! By this hand, I say ’tis very
scurvy, and begin to find myself fopped in it.
Very well.
I tell you ’tis not very well! I will make
2930myself known to Desdemona. If she will return me
230my jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my
unlawful solicitation. If not, assure yourself I will
seek satisfaction of you.
You have said now.
2935Ay, and said nothing but what I protest
235intendment of doing.
Why, now I see there’s mettle in thee, and even
from this instant do build on thee a better opinion
than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo.
2940Thou hast taken against me a most just exception,
240but yet I protest I have dealt most directly in thy
affair.
It hath not appeared.
I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your
2945suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But,
245Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed which I
have greater reason to believe now than ever—I
mean purpose, courage, and valor—this night show
it. If thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona,
2950take me from this world with treachery and
250devise engines for my life.
Well, what is it? Is it within reason and
compass?
Sir, there is especial commission come from
2955Venice to depute Cassio in Othello’s place.
255Is that true? Why, then, Othello and Desdemona
return again to Venice.
O, no. He goes into Mauritania and takes away
with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be
2960lingered here by some accident—wherein none
260can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio.
How do you mean, removing him?
Why, by making him uncapable of Othello’s
place: knocking out his brains.
2965And that you would have me to do?
265Ay, 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 honorable fortune. If
you will watch his going thence (which I will
2970fashion to fall out between twelve and one), you may
270take 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
2975think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high
275supper time, and the night grows to waste. About it!
I will hear further reason for this.
And you shall be satisfied.
They exit.
I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.
2980O, pardon me, ’twill do me good to walk.
Madam, good night. I humbly thank your Ladyship.
Your Honor is most welcome.
5Will you walk, sir?—O, Desdemona—
My lord?
2985Get you to bed on th’ instant. I will be
returned forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there.
Look ’t be done.
10I will, my lord.
All but Desdemona and Emilia exit.
How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did.
2990He says he will return incontinent,
And hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you.
15Dismiss me?
It was his bidding. Therefore, good Emilia,
2995Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.
I would you had never seen him.
20So would not I. My love doth so approve him
That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns—
3000Prithee, unpin me—have grace and favor in them.
I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.
All’s one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
25If I do die before thee, prithee, shroud me
In one of those same sheets.
3005Come, come, you talk!
My mother had a maid called Barbary.
She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
30And did forsake her. She had a song of willow,
An old thing ’twas, but it expressed her fortune,
3010And 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
35And sing it like poor Barbary. Prithee, dispatch.
Shall I go fetch your nightgown?
3015No, unpin me here.
This Lodovico is a proper man.
A very handsome man.
40He speaks well.
I know a lady in Venice would have walked
3020barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.
The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow.
45Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow.
3025The fresh streams ran by her and murmured her
moans,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
50Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the
stones—
3030Lay by these.
Sing willow, willow, willow.
Prithee hie thee! He’ll come anon.
55Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve.
3035Nay, that’s not next. Hark, who is ’t that knocks?
It’s the wind.
I called my love false love, but what said he then?
60Sing willow, willow, willow.
If I court more women, you’ll couch with more
3040men.—
So, get thee gone. Good night. Mine eyes do itch;
Doth that bode weeping?
65’Tis neither here nor there.
I have heard it said so. O these men, these men!
3045Dost thou in conscience think—tell me, Emilia—
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind?
70There be some such, no
question.
3050Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
Why, would not you?
No, by this heavenly light!
75Nor I neither, by this heavenly light.
I might do ’t as well i’ th’ dark.
3055Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
The world’s a huge thing. It is a great price
for a small vice.
80In troth, I think thou wouldst not.
In troth, I think I should, and undo ’t when I
3060had done it. Marry, I would not do such a thing for
a joint ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for
gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition.
85But for the whole world—’Uds pity! Who
would not make her husband a cuckold to make
3065him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for ’t.
Beshrew me if I would do such a wrong
for the whole world!
90Why, the wrong is but a wrong i’ th’ world;
and, having the world for your labor, ’tis a wrong in
3070your own world, and you might quickly make it
right.
I do not think there is any such woman.
95Yes, a dozen; and as many to th’ vantage as
would store the world they played for.
3075But 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;
100Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us. Or say they strike us,
3080Or scant our former having in despite.
Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
105Their wives have sense like them. They see, and
smell,
3085And 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?
110I think it is. And doth affection breed it?
I think it doth. Is ’t frailty that thus errs?
3090It 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,
115The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.
Good night, good night. God me such uses send,
3095Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend.
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.
53100It makes us or it mars us—think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.
Be near at hand. I may miscarry in ’t.
Here, at thy hand. Be bold and take thy stand.
I have no great devotion to the deed,
103105And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons.
’Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword! He dies.
I have rubbed 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,
153110Every way makes my gain. Live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold and jewels that I bobbed from him
As gifts to Desdemona.
It must not be. If Cassio do remain,
203115He 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. Be ’t so. I hear him coming.
I know his gait. ’Tis he!—Villain, thou diest!
253120That thrust had been mine enemy indeed
But that my coat is better than thou know’st.
I will make proof of thine.
O, I am slain!
Roderigo falls.Iago stabs Cassio in the leg, and exits.
I am maimed forever! Help, ho! Murder, murder!
303125The voice of Cassio! Iago keeps his word.
O, villain that I am!
It is even so.
O, help ho! Light! A surgeon!
’Tis he! O brave Iago, honest and just,
353130That 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.
403135Thy bed, lust-stained, shall with lust’s blood be
spotted.
What ho! No watch? No passage? Murder, murder!
’Tis some mischance. The voice is very direful.
O, help!
453140Hark!
O wretched villain!
Two or three groan. ’Tis heavy night.
These may be counterfeits. Let’s think ’t unsafe
To come in to the cry without more help.
503145Nobody come? Then shall I bleed to death.
Hark!
Here’s one comes in his shirt, with light and
weapons.
Who’s there? Whose noise is this that cries on
553150murder?
We do not know.
Did not you hear a cry?
Here, here! For heaven’s sake, help me!
What’s the matter?
603155This is Othello’s ancient, as I take it.
The same indeed, a very valiant fellow.
What are you here that cry so grievously?
Iago? O, I am spoiled, undone by villains.
Give me some help!
653160O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this?
I think that one of them is hereabout
And cannot make away.
O treacherous villains!
To Lodovico and Gratiano. What are you there?
703165Come in, and give some help.
O, help me here!
That’s one of them.
O murd’rous slave! O villain!
He stabs Roderigo.
O damned Iago! O inhuman dog!
753170Kill men i’ th’ dark?—Where be these bloody
thieves?
How silent is this town! Ho, murder, murder!—
What may you be? Are you of good or evil?
As you shall prove us, praise us.
803175Signior Lodovico?
He, sir.
I cry you mercy. Here’s Cassio hurt by villains.
Cassio?
How is ’t, brother?
853180My leg is cut in two.
Marry, heaven forbid!
Light, gentlemen. I’ll bind it with my shirt.
What is the matter, ho? Who is ’t that cried?
Who is ’t that cried?
903185O, my dear Cassio,
My sweet Cassio! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be that have thus mangled you?
No.
953190I am sorry to find you thus; I have been to seek you.
Lend me a garter. So.—O for a chair
To bear him easily hence!
Alas, he faints. O, Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
1003195To be a party in this injury.—
Patience awhile, good Cassio.—Come, come;
Lend me a light. Peering at Roderigo. Know we this
face or no?
Alas, my friend and my dear countryman
1053200Roderigo? No! Yes, sure. O heaven, Roderigo!
What, of Venice?
Even he, sir. Did you know him?
Know him? Ay.
Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon.
1103205These bloody accidents must excuse my manners
That so neglected you.
I am glad to see you.
How do you, Cassio?—O, a chair, a chair!
Roderigo?
1153210He, he, ’tis he! A chair is brought in. O, that’s well
said; the chair.—
Some good man bear him carefully from hence.
I’ll fetch the General’s surgeon.— For you, mistress,
Save you your labor.—He that lies slain here,
1203215Cassio,
Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?
None in the world. Nor do I know the man.
What, look you pale?—O, bear him out o’ th’ air.
Cassio, in the chair, and Roderigo are carried off.
To Gratiano and Lodovico. Stay you, good
1253220gentlemen.—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
1303225Though tongues were out of use.
Alas, what is the matter? What is the matter,
husband?
Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped.
1353230He’s almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
Alas, good gentleman! Alas, good Cassio!
This is the fruits of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supped tonight.
To Bianca. What, do you shake at that?
1403235He supped at my house, but I therefore shake not.
O, did he so? I charge you go with me.
O fie upon thee, strumpet!
I am no strumpet, but of life as honest
As you that thus abuse me.
1453240As I? Faugh! Fie upon thee!
Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dressed.—
Come, mistress, you must tell ’s another tale.—
Emilia, run you to the citadel
And tell my lord and lady what hath happed.—
1503245Will you go on afore? Aside. This is the night
That either makes me or fordoes me quite.
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,
3250Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
5And 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,
3255I can again thy former light restore
10Should 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 plucked the
3260rose,
15I cannot give it vital growth again.
It needs must wither. I’ll smell it on the tree.
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword! He kisses her. One
3265more, one more.
20Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee
And love thee after. One more, and this the last.
He kisses her.
So sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears. This sorrow’s heavenly:
3270It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.
25Who’s there? Othello?
Ay, Desdemona.
Will you come to bed, my lord?
Have you prayed tonight, Desdemon?
3275Ay, my lord.
30If you bethink yourself of any crime
Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.
Alack, my lord,
3280What may you mean by that?
35Well, do it, and be brief. I will walk by.
I would not kill thy unpreparèd spirit.
No, heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.
Talk you of killing?
3285Ay, I do.
40Then heaven have mercy on me.
Amen, with all my heart.
If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
Humh.
3290And yet I fear you, for you’re fatal then
45When your eyes roll so. Why I should fear I know
not,
Since guiltiness I know not, but yet I feel I fear.
Think on thy sins.
3295They are loves I bear to you.
50Ay, and for that thou diest.
That death’s unnatural that kills for loving.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame.
3300These are portents, but yet I hope, I hope
55They do not point on me.
Peace, and be still.
I will so. What’s the matter?
That handkerchief
3305Which I so loved, and gave thee, thou gav’st to
60Cassio.
No, by my life and soul! Send for the man
And ask him.
Sweet soul, take heed, take heed of perjury.
3310Thou art on thy deathbed.
65Ay, but not yet to die.
Yes, presently.
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin.
For to deny each article with oath
3315Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
70That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
Then Lord have mercy on me!
I say “Amen.”
And have you mercy, too. I never did
3320Offend you in my life, never loved Cassio
75But with such general warranty of heaven
As I might love. I never gave him token.
By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in ’s hand!
O perjured woman, thou dost stone my heart
3325And mak’st me call what I intend to do
80A murder, which I thought a sacrifice!
I saw the handkerchief!
He found it, then.
I never gave it him. Send for him hither.
3330Let him confess a truth.
85He hath confessed.
What, my lord?
That he hath used thee.
How? Unlawfully?
3335Ay.
90He will not say so.
No. His mouth is stopped.
Honest Iago hath ta’en order for ’t.
O, my fear interprets. What, is he dead?
3340Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
95Had stomach for them all.
Alas, he is betrayed, and I undone.She weeps.
Out, strumpet! Weep’st thou for him to my face?
O banish me, my lord, but kill me not!
3345Down, strumpet!
100Kill me tomorrow, let me live tonight.
Nay, if you strive—
But half an hour!
Being done, there is no pause.
3350But while I say one prayer!
105It is too late.
He smothers her.
My lord, my lord? What ho! My lord, my lord!
What noise is this?—Not dead? Not yet quite dead?
I that am cruel am yet merciful.
3355I would not have thee linger in thy pain.
110So, so.
What, ho! My lord, my lord!
Who’s
there?
3360O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you.
115Yes. ’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?
3365I think she stirs again. No. What’s best to do?
120If 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
3370Of sun and moon, and that th’ affrighted globe
125Should yawn at alteration.
I do beseech you
That I may speak with you. O, good my lord—
I had forgot thee. O, come in, Emilia.—
3375Soft, by and by, let me the curtains draw.—
130Where art thou?
Enter Emilia.
What’s the matter with thee now?
O, my good lord, yonder’s foul murders done.
What? Now?
3380But now, my lord.
135It is the very error of the moon.
She comes more nearer Earth than she was wont
And makes men mad.
Cassio, my lord, hath killed
3385A young Venetian called Roderigo.
140Roderigo killed? And Cassio killed?
No, Cassio is not killed.
Not Cassio killed? Then murder’s out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
3390O falsely, falsely murdered.
145O Lord, what cry is that?
That? What?
Out, and alas, that was my lady’s voice!
Help! Help ho! Help! O lady, speak again!
3395Sweet Desdemona, O sweet mistress, speak!
150A guiltless death I die.
O, who hath done this deed?
Nobody. I myself. Farewell.
Commend me to my kind lord. O, farewell.
3400Why, how should she be murdered?
155Alas, who
knows?
You heard her say herself, it was not I.
She said so. I must needs report the truth.
3405She’s like a liar gone to burning hell!
160’Twas I that killed her.
O, the more angel she, and you the blacker devil!
She turned to folly, and she was a whore.
Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil!
3410She was false as water.
165Thou art rash as fire to say
That she was false. O, she was heavenly true!
Cassio did top her. Ask thy husband else.
O, I were damned beneath all depth in hell
3415But that I did proceed upon just grounds
170To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
My husband?
Thy husband.
That she was false to wedlock?
3420Ay, with Cassio. Had she been true,
175If heaven would make me such another world
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
I’d not have sold her for it.
My husband?
3425Ay, ’twas he that told me on her first.
180An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.
My husband?
What needs this iterance, woman? I say, thy
3430husband.
185O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love!—
My husband say she was false?
He, woman.
I say thy husband. Dost understand the word?
3435My friend, thy husband; honest, honest Iago.
190If he say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day! He lies to th’ heart!
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
Hah?
3440Do thy worst!
195This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
Than thou wast worthy her.
Peace, you were best!
Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
3445As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt,
200As 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 killed my mistress! Murder, murder!
3450What is the matter? How now, general?
205O, are you come, Iago? You have done well,
That men must lay their murders on your neck.
What is the matter?
Disprove this villain, if thou be’st a man.
3455He says thou told’st him that his wife was false.
210I know thou didst not. Thou ’rt not such a villain.
Speak, for my heart is full.
I told him what I thought, and told no more
Than what he found himself was apt and true.
3460But did you ever tell him she was false?
215I did.
You told a lie, an odious, damnèd lie!
Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie!
She false with Cassio? Did you say with Cassio?
3465With Cassio, mistress. Go to! Charm your tongue.
220I will not charm my tongue. I am bound to speak.
My mistress here lies murdered in her bed.
O heavens forfend!
And your reports have set the murder on!
3470Nay, stare not, masters; it is true indeed.
225’Tis a strange truth.
O monstrous act!
Villainy, villainy, villainy!
I think upon ’t, I think! I smell ’t! O villainy!
3475I thought so then. I’ll kill myself for grief!
230O villainy! Villainy!
What, are you mad? I charge you get you home.
Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak.
’Tis proper I obey him, but not now.
3480Perchance, Iago, I will ne’er go home.
235O, O, O!
Nay, lay thee down, and roar!
For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent
That e’er did lift up eye.
3485O, she was foul!—
240I scarce did know you, uncle. There lies your niece,
Whose breath indeed these hands have newly
stopped.
I know this act shows horrible and grim.
3490Poor Desdemon, I am glad thy father’s dead.
245Thy 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,
3495And fall to reprobance.
250’Tis pitiful. But yet Iago knows
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
A thousand times committed. Cassio confessed it,
And she did gratify his amorous works
3500With that recognizance and pledge of love
255Which I first gave her. I saw it in his hand.
It was a handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.
O God! O heavenly God!
3505Zounds, hold your peace!
260’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.
3510Be wise, and get you home.
He draws his sword.
265I will not.
Fie, your sword upon a woman!
O thou dull Moor, that handkerchief thou speak’st
of
3515I found by fortune, and did give my husband—
270For often, with a solemn earnestness
(More than indeed belonged to such a trifle),
He begged of me to steal ’t.
Villainous whore!
3520She give it Cassio? No, alas, I found it,
275And I did give ’t my husband.
Filth, thou liest!
By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen!
To Othello. O murd’rous coxcomb, what should
3525such a fool
280Do with so good a wife?
Are there no stones in heaven
But what serves for the thunder?—Precious villain!
The woman falls! Sure he hath killed his wife.
3530Ay, ay! O, lay me by my mistress’ side.
285He’s gone, but his wife’s killed.
’Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon
Which I have here recovered from the Moor.
Come, guard the door without. Let him not pass,
3535But kill him rather. I’ll after that same villain,
290For ’tis a damnèd slave.
I am not valiant neither,
But every puny whipster gets my sword.
But why should honor outlive honesty?
3540Let it go all.
295What did thy song bode, lady?
Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan
And die in music.
She sings.Willow, willow, willow.
3545Moor, she was chaste. She loved thee, cruel Moor.
300So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true.
So speaking as I think, alas, I die.
I have another weapon in this chamber.
It is a sword of Spain, the ice brook’s temper.
3550O, here it is.—Uncle, I must come forth.
305If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear;
Thou hast no weapon and perforce must suffer.
Look in upon me, then, and speak with me,
Or naked as I am I will assault thee.
3555What is the matter?
310Behold, 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
3560I have made my way through more impediments
315Than 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 weaponed.
Here is my journey’s end, here is my butt
3565And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
320Do you go back dismayed? ’Tis a lost fear.
Man but a rush against Othello’s breast,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
He looks toward the bed.
Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starred wench,
3570Pale as thy smock, when we shall meet at compt,
325This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl?
Even like thy chastity.—O cursèd, cursèd slave!—
Whip me, you devils,
3575From the possession of this heavenly sight!
330Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulfur,
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
O Desdemon! Dead, Desdemon! Dead! O, O!
Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?
3580That’s he that was Othello. Here I am.
335Where is that viper? Bring the villain forth.
I look down towards his feet; but that’s a fable.—
If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
Wrench his sword from him.
3585I bleed, sir, but not killed.
340I am not sorry neither. I’d have thee live,
For in my sense ’tis happiness to die.
O thou Othello, that wert once so good,
Fall’n in the practice of a damnèd slave,
3590What shall be said to thee?
345Why, anything.
An honorable murderer, if you will,
For naught I did in hate, but all in honor.
This wretch hath part confessed his villainy.
3595Did you and he consent in Cassio’s death?
350Ay.
Dear general, I never gave you cause.
I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil
3600Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?
355Demand me nothing. What you know, you know.
From this time forth I never will speak word.
What? Not to pray?
Torments will ope your lips.
3605Well, thou dost best.
360Sir,
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,
3610And here another. He shows papers. The one of
365them imports
The death of Cassio, to be undertook
By Roderigo.
O villain!
3615Most heathenish and most gross.
370Now here’s another discontented paper
Found in his pocket, too; and this it seems
Roderigo meant t’ have sent this damnèd villain,
But that, belike, Iago in the interim
3620Came in and satisfied him.
375O, thou pernicious caitiff!—
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife’s?
I found it in my chamber.
3625And he himself confessed it but even now,
380That there he dropped it for a special purpose
Which wrought to his desire.
O fool, fool, fool!
There is besides, in Roderigo’s letter,
3630How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
385Brave 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.
3635You must forsake this room and go with us.
390Your 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,
3640It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
395Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian state.—Come, bring away.
Soft you. A word or two before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they
3645know ’t.
400No 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
3650Of one that loved not wisely, but too well;
405Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought,
Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand,
Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued
3655eyes,
410Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drops tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinable gum. Set you down this.
And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
3660Where a malignant and a turbanned Turk
415Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
I took by th’ throat the circumcisèd dog,
And smote him, thus.
O bloody period!
3665All that is spoke is marred.
420I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this,
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.He dies.
This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon,
For he was great of heart.
3670O Spartan dog,
425More 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,
3675And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
430For they succeed on you. To Cassio. To you, lord
governor,
Remains the censure of this hellish villain.
The time, the place, the torture, O, enforce it.
3680Myself will straight aboard, and to the state
435This heavy act with heavy heart relate.