Des. Oh, fie vpon thee, Slanderer
Iago. Nay, it is true: or else I am a Turke,You rise to play, and go to bed to worke.Aemil. You shall not write my praise
Iago. No, let me not
Desde. What would'st write of me, if thou should'stpraise me?Iago. Oh, gentle Lady, do not put me too't,For I am nothing, if not Criticall
Des. Come on, assay.There's one gone to the Harbour?Iago. I Madam
Des. I am not merry: but I do beguileThe thing I am, by seeming otherwise.Come, how would'st thou praise me?Iago. I am about it, but indeed my inuention comesfrom my pate, as Birdlyme do's from Freeze, it pluckesout Braines and all. But my Muse labours, and thus sheis deliuer'd.If she be faire, and wise: fairenesse, and wit,The ones for vse, the other vseth it
Des. Well prais'd:How if she be Blacke and Witty?Iago. If she be blacke, and thereto haue a wit,She'le find a white, that shall her blacknesse fit
Des. Worse, and worse.Aemil. How if Faire, and Foolish?Iago. She neuer yet was foolish that was faire,For euen her folly helpt her to an heire
Desde. These are old fond Paradoxes, to make Fooles laugh i'th' Alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's Foule, and Foolish
Iago. There's none so foule and foolish thereunto,But do's foule pranks, which faire, and wise-ones do
Desde. Oh heauy ignorance: thou praisest the worst best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a deseruing woman indeed? One, that in the authorithy of her merit, did iustly put on the vouch of very malice it selfe
Iago. She that was euer faire, and neuer proud,Had Tongue at will, and yet was neuer loud:Neuer lackt Gold, and yet went neuer gay,Fled from her wish, and yet said now I may.She that being angred, her reuenge being nie,Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure flie:She that in wisedome neuer was so fraile,To change the Cods-head for the Salmons taile:She that could thinke, and neu'r disclose her mind,See Suitors following, and not looke behind:She was a wight, (if euer such wightes were)Des. To do what?Iago. To suckle Fooles, and chronicle small Beere
Desde. Oh most lame and impotent conclusion. Do not learne of him aemillia, though he be thy husband. How say you (Cassio) is he not a most prophane, and liberall Counsailor? Cassio. He speakes home (Madam) you may rellish him more in the Souldier, then in the Scholler
Iago. He takes her by the palme: I, well said, whisper. With as little a web as this, will I ensnare as great a Fly as Cassio. I smile vpon her, do: I will giue thee in thine owne Courtship. You say true, 'tis so indeed. If such tricks as these strip you out of your Lieutenantrie, it had beene better you had not kiss'd your three fingers so oft, which now againe you are most apt to play the Sir, in. Very good: well kiss'd, and excellent Curtsie: 'tis so indeed. Yet againe, your fingers to your lippes? Would they were Cluster-pipes for your sake. The Moore I know his Trumpet
Cassio. 'Tis truely so
Des. Let's meete him, and recieue him
Cassio. Loe, where he comes.Enter Othello, and Attendants.
Oth. O, my faire Warriour
Des. My deere Othello
Othe. It giues me wonder great, as my contentTo see you heere before me.Oh my Soules Ioy:If after euery Tempest, come such Calmes,May the windes blow, till they haue waken'd death:And let the labouring Barke climbe hills of SeasOlympus high: and duck againe as low,As hell's from Heauen. If it were now to dye,'Twere now to be most happy. For I feare,My Soule hath her content so absolute,That not another comfort like to this,Succeedes in vnknowne Fate
Des. The Heauens forbidBut that our LouesAnd Comforts should encreaseEuen as our dayes do grow
Othe. Amen to that (sweet Powers)I cannot speake enough of this content,It stoppes me heere: it is too much of ioy.And this, and this the greatest discords beThat ere our hearts shall make
Iago. Oh you are well tun'd now: But Ile set downethe peggs that make this Musicke, as honest as I am
Othe. Come: let vs to the Castle.Newes (Friends) our Warres are done:The Turkes are drown'd.How do's my old Acquaintance of this Isle?(Hony) you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus,I haue found great loue among'st them. Oh my Sweet,I prattle out of fashion, and I doateIn mine owne comforts. I prythee, good Iago,Go to the Bay, and disimbarke my Coffers:Bring thou the Master to the Cittadell,He is a good one, and his worthynesseDo's challenge much respect. Come Desdemona,Once more well met at Cyprus.
Exit Othello and Desdemona.
Iago. Do thou meet me presently at the Harbour. Come thither, if thou be'st Valiant, (as they say base men being in Loue, haue then a Nobilitie in their Natures, more then is natiue to them) list-me; the Lieutenant to night watches on the Court of Guard. First, I must tell thee this: Desdemona, is directly in loue with him
Rod. With him? Why, 'tis not possible
Iago. Lay thy finger thus: and let thy soule be instructed. Marke me with what violence she first lou'd the Moore, but for bragging, and telling her fantasticall lies. To loue him still for prating, let not thy discreet heart thinke it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight shall she haue to looke on the diuell? When the Blood is made dull with the Act of Sport, there should be a game to enflame it, and to giue Satiety a fresh appetite. Louelinesse in fauour, simpathy in yeares, Manners, and Beauties: all which the Moore is defectiue in. Now for want of these requir'd Conueniences, her delicate tendernesse wil finde it selfe abus'd, begin to heaue the, gorge, disrellish and abhorre the Moore, very Nature wil instruct her in it, and compell her to some second choice. Now Sir, this granted (as it is a most pregnant and vnforc'd position) who stands so eminent in the degree of this Fortune, as Cassio do's: a knaue very voluble: no further conscionable, then in putting on the meere forme of Ciuill, and Humaine seeming, for the better compasse of his salt, and most hidden loose Affection? Why none, why none: A slipper, and subtle knaue, a finder of occasion: that he's an eye can stampe, and counterfeit Aduantages, though true Aduantage neuer present it selfe. A diuelish knaue: besides, the knaue is handsome, young: and hath all those requisites in him, that folly and greene mindes looke after. A pestilent compleat knaue, and the woman hath found him already
Rodo. I cannot beleeue that in her, she's full of most bless'd condition
Iago. Bless'd figges-end. The Wine she drinkes is made of grapes. If shee had beene bless'd, shee would neuer haue lou'd the Moore: Bless'd pudding. Didst thou not see her paddle with the palme of his hand? Didst not marke that? Rod. Yes, that I did: but that was but curtesie
Iago . Leacherie by this hand: an Index, and obscure prologue to the History of Lust and foule Thoughts. They met so neere with their lippes, that their breathes embrac'd together. Villanous thoughts Rodorigo, when these mutabilities so marshall the way, hard at hand comes the Master, and maine exercise, th' incorporate conclusion: Pish. But Sir, be you rul'd by me. I haue brought you from Venice. Watch you to night: for the Command, Ile lay't vpon you. Cassio knowes you not: Ile not be farre from you. Do you finde some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline, or from what other course you please, which the time shall more fauorably minister
Rod. Well
Iago. Sir, he's rash, and very sodaine in Choller: and happely may strike at you, prouoke him that he may: for euen out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to Mutiny. Whose qualification shall come into no true taste againe, but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you haue a shorter iourney to your desires, by the meanes I shall then haue to preferre them. And the impediment most profitably remoued, without the which there were no expectation of our prosperitie
Rodo. I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity
Iago. I warrant thee. Meete me by and by at theCittadell. I must fetch his Necessaries a Shore. Farewell
Rodo. Adieu.Enter.
Iago. That Cassio loues her, I do well beleeu't:That she loues him, 'tis apt, and of great Credite.The Moore (howbeit that I endure him not)Is of a constant, louing, Noble Nature,And I dare thinke, he'le proue to DesdemonaA most deere husband. Now I do loue her too,Not out of absolute Lust, (though peraduentureI stand accomptant for as great a sin)But partely led to dyet my Reuenge,For that I do suspect the lustie MooreHath leap'd into my Seate. The thought whereof,Doth (like a poysonous Minerall) gnaw my Inwardes:And nothing can, or shall content my SouleTill I am eeuen'd with him, wife, for wife.Or fayling so, yet that I put the Moore,At least into a Ielouzie so strongThat iudgement cannot cure. Which thing to do,If this poore Trash of Venice, whom I traceFor his quicke hunting, stand the putting on,Ile haue our Michael Cassio on the hip,Abuse him to the Moore, in the right garbe(For I feare Cassio with my Night-Cape too)Make the Moore thanke me, loue me, and reward me,For making him egregiously an Asse,And practising vpon his peace, and quiet,Euen to madnesse. 'Tis heere: but yet confus'd,Knaueries plaine face, is neuer seene, till vs'd.Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Othello's Herald with a Proclamation.
Herald. It is Othello's pleasure, our Noble and Valiant Generall. That vpon certaine tydings now arriu'd, importing the meere perdition of the Turkish Fleete: euery man put himselfe into Triumph. Some to daunce, some to make Bonfires, each man, to what Sport and Reuels his addition leads him. For besides these beneficiall Newes, it is the Celebration of his Nuptiall. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, & there is full libertie of Feasting from this present houre of fiue, till the Bell haue told eleuen. Blesse the Isle of Cyprus, and our Noble Generall Othello. Enter.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.
Othe. Good Michael, looke you to the guard to night.Let's teach our selues that Honourable stop,Not to out-sport discretion
Cas. Iago, hath direction what to do.But notwithstanding with my personall eyeWill I looke to't
Othe. Iago, is most honest:Michael, goodnight. To morrow with your earliest,Let me haue speech with you. Come my deere Loue,The purchase made, the fruites are to ensue,That profit's yet to come 'tweene me, and you.Goodnight.Enter.
Enter Iago.
Cas. Welcome Iago: we must to the Watch
Iago. Not this houre Lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten o'th' clocke. Our Generall cast vs thus earely for the loue of his Desdemona: Who, let vs not therefore blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her: and she is sport for Ioue
Cas. She's a most exquisite Lady
Iago. And Ile warrant her, full of Game
Cas. Indeed shes a most fresh and delicate creature
Iago. What an eye she ha's?Me thinkes it sounds a parley to prouocation
Cas. An inuiting eye:And yet me thinkes right modest
Iago. And when she speakes,Is it not an Alarum to Loue?Cas. She is indeed perfection
Iago. Well: happinesse to their Sheetes. Come Lieutenant, I haue a stope of Wine, and heere without are a brace of Cyprus Gallants, that would faine haue a measure to the health of blacke Othello
Cas. Not to night, good Iago, I haue very poore, and vnhappie Braines for drinking. I could well wish Curtesie would inuent some other Custome of entertainment
Iago. Oh, they are our Friends: but one Cup, Ile drinke for you
Cassio. I haue drunke but one Cup to night, and that was craftily qualified too: and behold what inouation it makes heere. I am infortunate in the infirmity, and dare not taske my weakenesse with any more
Iago. What man? 'Tis a night of Reuels, the Gallantsdesire it
Cas. Where are they?Iago. Heere, at the doore: I pray you call them in
Cas. Ile do't, but it dislikes me.Enter.
Iago. If I can fasten but one Cup vpon himWith that which he hath drunke to night alreadie,He'l be as full of Quarrell, and offenceAs my yong Mistris dogge.Now my sicke Foole Rodorigo,Whom Loue hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,To Desdemona hath to night Carrows'd.Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch.Three else of Cyprus, Noble swelling Spirites,(That hold their Honours in a wary distance,The very Elements of this Warrelike Isle)Haue I to night fluster'd with flowing Cups,And they Watch too.Now 'mongst this Flocke of drunkardsAm I put to our Cassio in some ActionThat may offend the Isle. But here they come.Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen.
If Consequence do but approue my dreame,My Boate sailes freely, both with winde and Streame
Cas. 'Fore heauen, they haue giuen me a rowse already
Mon. Good-faith a litle one: not past a pint, as I am aSouldier
Iago. Some Wine hoa.And let me the Cannakin clinke, clinke:And let me the Cannakin clinke.A Souldiers a man: Oh, mans life's but a span,Why then let a Souldier drinke.Some Wine Boyes
Cas. 'Fore Heauen: an excellent Song
Iago. I learn'd it in England: where indeed they are most potent in Potting. Your Dane, your Germaine, and your swag-belly'd Hollander, (drinke hoa) are nothing to your English
Cassio. Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking?Iago. Why, he drinkes you with facillitie, your Danedead drunke. He sweates not to ouerthrow your Almaine.He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the nextPottle can be fill'd
Cas. To the health of our Generall
Mon. I am for it Lieutenant: and Ile do you Iustice
Iago. Oh sweet England.King Stephen was anda worthy Peere,His Breeches cost him but a Crowne,He held them Six pence all to deere,With that he cal'd the Tailor Lowne:He was a wight of high Renowne,And thou art but of low degree:'Tis Pride that pulls the Country downe,And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee.Some Wine hoa
Cassio. Why this is a more exquisite Song then the other
Iago. Will you heare't againe? Cas. No: for I hold him to be vnworthy of his Place, that do's those things. Well: heau'ns aboue all: and there be soules must be saued, and there be soules must not be saued
Iago. It's true, good Lieutenant
Cas. For mine owne part, no offence to the Generall, nor any man of qualitie: I hope to be saued
Iago. And so do I too Lieutenant
Cassio. I: (but by your leaue) not before me. The Lieutenant is to be saued before the Ancient. Let's haue no more of this: let's to our Affaires. Forgiue vs our sinnes: Gentlemen let's looke to our businesse. Do not thinke Gentlemen, I am drunke: this is my Ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not drunke now: I can stand well enough, and I speake well enough
Gent. Excellent well
Cas. Why very well then: you must not thinke then,that I am drunke.Enter.
Monta. To th' Platforme (Masters) come, let's set theWatch
Iago. You see this Fellow, that is gone before,He's a Souldier, fit to stand by Caesar,And giue direction. And do but see his vice,'Tis to his vertue, a iust Equinox,The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pittie of him:I feare the trust Othello puts him in,On some odde time of his infirmitieWill shake this Island
Mont. But is he often thus?Iago. 'Tis euermore his prologue to his sleepe,He'le watch the Horologe a double Set,If Drinke rocke not his Cradle
Mont. It were wellThe Generall were put in mind of it:Perhaps he sees it not, or his good naturePrizes the vertue that appeares in Cassio,And lookes not on his euills: is not this true?Enter Rodorigo.
Iago. How now Rodorigo?I pray you after the Lieutenant, go
Mon. And 'tis great pitty, that the Noble MooreShould hazard such a Place, as his owne SecondWith one of an ingraft Infirmitie,It were an honest Action, to say soTo the Moore
Iago. Not I, for this faire Island,I do loue Cassio well: and would do muchTo cure him of this euill, But hearke, what noise?Enter Cassio pursuing Rodorigo.
Cas. You Rogue: you Rascall
Mon. What's the matter Lieutenant?Cas. A Knaue teach me my dutie? Ile beate theKnaue in to a Twiggen-Bottle
Rod. Beate me?Cas. Dost thou prate, Rogue?Mon. Nay, good Lieutenant:I pray you Sir, hold your hand
Cassio. Let me go (Sir)Or Ile knocke you o're the Mazard
Mon. Come, come: you're drunke
Cassio. Drunke?Iago. Away I say: go out and cry a Mutinie.Nay good Lieutenant. Alas Gentlemen:Helpe hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano:Helpe Masters. Heere's a goodly Watch indeed.Who's that which rings the Bell: Diablo, hoa:The Towne will rise. Fie, fie Lieutenant,You'le be asham'd for euer.Enter Othello, and Attendants.
Othe. What is the matter heere?Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to th' death. He dies
Othe. Hold for your liues
Iag. Hold hoa: Lieutenant, Sir Montano, Gentlemen:Haue you forgot all place of sense and dutie?Hold. The Generall speaks to you: hold for shame
Oth. Why how now hoa? From whence ariseth this?Are we turn'd Turkes? and to our selues do thatWhich Heauen hath forbid the Ottamittes.For Christian shame, put by this barbarous Brawle:He that stirs next, to carue for his owne rage,Holds his soule light: He dies vpon his Motion.Silence that dreadfull Bell, it frights the Isle,From her propriety. What is the matter, Masters?Honest Iago, that lookes dead with greeuing,Speake: who began this? On thy loue I charge thee?Iago. I do not know: Friends all, but now, euen now.In Quarter, and in termes like Bride, and GroomeDeuesting them for Bed: and then, but now:(As if some Planet had vnwitted men)Swords out, and tilting one at others breastes,In opposition bloody. I cannot speakeAny begining to this peeuish oddes.And would, in Action glorious, I had lostThose legges, that brought me to a part of it
Othe. How comes it (Michaell) you are thus forgot?Cas. I pray you pardon me, I cannot speake
Othe. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be ciuill:The grauitie, and stillnesse of your youthThe world hath noted. And your name is greatIn mouthes of wisest Censure. What's the matterThat you vnlace your reputation thus,And spend your rich opinion, for the nameOf a night-brawler? Giue me answer to it
Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger,Your Officer Iago, can informe you,While I spare speech which something now offends me.Of all that I do know, nor know I oughtBy me, that's said, or done amisse this night,Vnlesse selfe-charitie be sometimes a vice,And to defend our selues, it be a sinneWhen violence assailes vs
Othe. Now by Heauen,My blood begins my safer Guides to rule,And passion (hauing my best iudgement collied)Assaies to leade the way. If I once stir,Or do but lift this Arme, the best of youShall sinke in my rebuke. Giue me to knowHow this foule Rout began: Who set it on,And he that is approu'd in this offence,Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,Shall loose me. What in a Towne of warre,Yet wilde, the peoples hearts brim-full of feare,To Manage priuate, and domesticke Quarrell?In night, and on the Court and Guard of safetie?'Tis monstrous: Iago, who began't?Mon. If partially Affin'd, or league in office,Thou dost deliuer more, or lesse then Truth,Thou art no Souldier
Iago. Touch me not so neere,I had rather haue this tongue cut from my mouth,Then it should do offence to Michaell Cassio.Yet I perswade my selfe, to speake the truthShall nothing wrong him. This it is Generall:Montano and my selfe being in speech,There comes a Fellow, crying out for helpe,And Cassio following him with determin'd SwordTo execute vpon him. Sir, this Gentleman,Steppes in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:My selfe, the crying Fellow did pursue,Least by his clamour (as it so fell out)The Towne might fall in fright. He, (swift of foote)Out-ran my purpose: and I return'd then ratherFor that I heard the clinke, and fall of Swords,And Cassio high in oath: Which till to nightI nere might say before. When I came backe(For this was briefe) I found them close togetherAt blow, and thrust, euen as againe they wereWhen you your selfe did part them.More of this matter cannot I report,But Men are Men: The best sometimes forget,Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,As men in rage strike those that wish them best,Yet surely Cassio, I beleeue receiu'dFrom him that fled, some strange Indignitie,Which patience could not passe
Othe. I know IagoThy honestie, and loue doth mince this matter,Making it light to Cassio: Cassio, I loue thee,But neuer more be Officer of mine.Enter Desdemona attended.
Looke if my gentle Loue be not rais'd vp:Ile make thee an example
Des. What is the matter (Deere?)Othe. All's well, Sweeting:Come away to bed. Sir for your hurts,My selfe will be your Surgeon. Lead him off:Iago, looke with care about the Towne,And silence those whom this vil'd brawle distracted.Come Desdemona, 'tis the Soldiers life,To haue their Balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.Enter.
Iago. What are you hurt Lieutenant?Cas. I, past all Surgery
Iago. Marry Heauen forbid
Cas. Reputation, Reputation, Reputation: Oh I haue lost my Reputation. I haue lost the immortall part of myselfe, and what remaines is bestiall. My Reputation, Iago, my Reputation
Iago. As I am an honest man I had thought you had receiued some bodily wound; there is more sence in that then in Reputation. Reputation is an idle, and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deseruing. You haue lost no Reputation at all, vnlesse you repute your selfe such a looser. What man, there are more wayes to recouer the Generall againe. You are but now cast in his moode, (a punishment more in policie, then in malice) euen so as one would beate his offencelesse dogge, to affright an Imperious Lyon. Sue to him againe, and he's yours
Cas. I will rather sue to be despis'd, then to deceiue so good a Commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an Officer. Drunke? And speake Parrat? And squabble? Swagger? Sweare? And discourse Fustian with ones owne shadow? Oh thou invisible spirit of Wine, if thou hast no name to be knowne by, let vs call thee Diuell
Iago. What was he that you follow'd with yourSword? What had he done to you?Cas. I know not
Iago. Is't possible? Cas. I remember a masse of things, but nothing distinctly: a Quarrell, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that men should put an Enemie in their mouthes, to steale away their Braines? that we should with ioy, pleasance, reuell and applause, transforme our selues into Beasts
Iago. Why? But you are now well enough: how came you thus recouered? Cas. It hath pleas'd the diuell drunkennesse, to giue place to the diuell wrath, one vnperfectnesse, shewes me another to make me frankly despise my selfe
Iago. Come, you are too seuere a Moraller. As theTime, the Place, & the Condition of this Country standsI could hartily wish this had not befalne: but since it is, asit is, mend it for your owne good
Cas. I will aske him for my Place againe, he shall tell me, I am a drunkard: had I as many mouthes as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a Foole, and presently a Beast. Oh strange! Euery inordinate cup is vnbless'd, and the Ingredient is a diuell
Iago. Come, come: good wine, is a good familiarCreature, if it be well vs'd: exclaime no more against it.And good Lieutenant, I thinke, you thinke I loueyou
Cassio. I haue well approued it, Sir. I drunke? Iago. You, or any man liuing, may be drunke at a time man. I tell you what you shall do: Our General's Wife, is now the Generall. I may say so, in this respect, for that he hath deuoted, and giuen vp himselfe to the Contemplation, marke: and deuotement of her parts and Graces. Confesse your selfe freely to her: Importune her helpe to put you in your place againe. She is of so free, so kinde, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodnesse, not to do more then she is requested. This broken ioynt betweene you, and her husband, entreat her to splinter. And my Fortunes against any lay worth naming, this cracke of your Loue, shall grow stronger, then it was before
Cassio. You aduise me well
Iago. I protest in the sinceritie of Loue, and honest kindnesse
Cassio. I thinke it freely: and betimes in the morning, I will beseech the vertuous Desdemona to vndertake for me: I am desperate of my Fortunes if they check me
Iago. You are in the right: good night Lieutenant, I must to the Watch
Cassio. Good night, honest Iago.
Exit Cassio.
Iago. And what's he then,That saies I play the Villaine?When this aduise is free I giue, and honest,Proball to thinking, and indeed the courseTo win the Moore againe.For 'tis most easieTh' inclyning Desdemona to subdueIn any honest Suite. She's fram'd as fruitefullAs the free Elements. And then for herTo win the Moore, were to renownce his Baptisme,All Seales, and Simbols of redeemed sin:His Soule is so enfetter'd to her Loue,That she may make, vnmake, do what she list,Euen as her Appetite shall play the God,With his weake Function. How am I then a Villaine,To Counsell Cassio to this paralell course,Directly to his good? Diuinitie of hell,When diuels will the blackest sinnes put on,They do suggest at first with heauenly shewes,As I do now. For whiles this honest FoolePlies Desdemona, to repaire his Fortune,And she for him, pleades strongly to the Moore,Ile powre this pestilence into his eare:That she repeales him, for her bodies Lust,And by how much she striues to do him good,She shall vndo her Credite with the Moore.So will I turne her vertue into pitch.And out of her owne goodnesse make the Net,That shall en-mash them all.How now Rodorigo?Enter Rodorigo.
Rodorigo. I do follow heere in the Chace, not like a Hound that hunts, but one that filles vp the Crie. My Money is almost spent; I haue bin to night exceedingly well Cudgell'd: And I thinke the issue will bee, I shall haue so much experience for my paines; And so, with no money at all, and a little more Wit, returne againe to Venice
Iago. How poore are they that haue not Patience?What wound did euer heale but by degrees?Thou know'st we worke by Wit, and not by WitchcraftAnd Wit depends on dilatory time:Dos't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,And thou by that small hurt hath casheer'd Cassio:Though other things grow faire against the Sun,Yet Fruites that blossome first, will first be ripe:Content thy selfe, a-while. Introth 'tis Morning;Pleasure, and Action, make the houres seeme short.Retire thee, go where thou art Billited:Away, I say, thou shalt know more heereafter:Nay get thee gone.
Exit Roderigo.
Two things are to be done:My Wife must moue for Cassio to her Mistris:Ile set her on my selfe, a while, to draw the Moor apart,And bring him iumpe, when he may Cassio findeSoliciting his wife: I, that's the way:Dull not Deuice, by coldnesse, and delay.Enter.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Cassio, Musitians, and Clowne.
Cassio. Masters, play heere, I wil content your paines,Something that's briefe: and bid, goodmorrow General
Clo. Why Masters, haue your Instruments bin in Naples,that they speake i'th' Nose thus?Mus. How Sir? how?Clo. Are these I pray you, winde Instruments?Mus. I marry are they sir
Clo. Oh, thereby hangs a tale
Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir? Clow. Marry sir, by many a winde Instrument that I know. But Masters, heere's money for you: and the Generall so likes your Musick, that he desires you for loues sake to make no more noise with it
Mus. Well Sir, we will not
Clo. If you haue any Musicke that may not be heard, too't againe. But (as they say) to heare Musicke, the Generall do's not greatly care
Mus. We haue none such, sir
Clow. Then put vp your Pipes in your bagge, for Ile away. Go, vanish into ayre, away.
Exit Mu.
Cassio. Dost thou heare me, mine honest Friend?Clo. No, I heare not your honest Friend:I heare you
Cassio. Prythee keepe vp thy Quillets, ther's a poore peece of Gold for thee: if the Gentlewoman that attends the Generall be stirring, tell her, there's one Cassio entreats her a little fauour of Speech. Wilt thou do this? Clo. She is stirring sir: if she will stirre hither, I shall seeme to notifie vnto her.
Exit Clo.
Enter Iago.
In happy time, Iago
Iago. You haue not bin a-bed then?Cassio. Why no: the day had broke before we parted.I haue made bold (Iago) to send in to your wife:My suite to her is, that she will to vertuous DesdemonaProcure me some accesse
Iago. Ile send her to you presently:And Ile deuise a meane to draw the MooreOut of the way, that your conuerse and businesseMay be more free.
Exit
Cassio. I humbly thanke you for't. I neuer knewA Florentine more kinde, and honest.Enter aemilia.
Aemil. Goodmorrow (good Lieutenant) I am sorrieFor your displeasure: but all will sure be well.The Generall and his wife are talking of it,And she speakes for you stoutly. The Moore replies,That he you hurt is of great Fame in Cyprus,And great Affinitie: and that in wholsome WisedomeHe might not but refuse you. But he protests he loues youAnd needs no other Suitor, but his likingsTo bring you in againe
Cassio. Yet I beseech you,If you thinke fit, or that it may be done,Giue me aduantage of some breefe DiscourseWith Desdemon alone.Aemil. Pray you come in:I will bestow you where you shall haue timeTo speake your bosome freely
Cassio. I am much bound to you.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.
Othe. These Letters giue (Iago) to the Pylot,And by him do my duties to the Senate:That done, I will be walking on the Workes,Repaire there to mee
Iago. Well, my good Lord, Ile doo't
Oth. This Fortification (Gentlemen) shall we see't?Gent. Well waite vpon your Lordship.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and aemilia.
Des. Be thou assur'd (good Cassio) I will doAll my abilities in thy behalfe.Aemil. Good Madam do:I warrant it greeues my Husband,As if the cause were his
Des. Oh that's an honest Fellow, Do not doubt CassioBut I will haue my Lord, and you againeAs friendly as you were
Cassio. Bounteous Madam,What euer shall become of Michael Cassio,He's neuer any thing but your true Seruant
Des. I know't: I thanke you: you do loue my Lord:You haue knowne him long, and be you well assur'dHe shall in strangenesse stand no farther off,Then in a politique distance
Cassio. I, but Lady,That policie may either last so long,Or feede vpon such nice and waterish diet,Or breede it selfe so out of Circumstances,That I being absent, and my place supply'd,My Generall will forget my Loue, and Seruice
Des. Do not doubt that: before aemilia here,I giue thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee,If I do vow a friendship, Ile performe itTo the last Article. My Lord shall neuer rest,Ile watch him tame, and talke him out of patience;His Bed shall seeme a Schoole, his Boord a Shrift,Ile intermingle euery thing he do'sWith Cassio's suite: Therefore be merry Cassio,For thy Solicitor shall rather dye,Then giue thy cause away.Enter Othello, and Iago.
Aemil. Madam, heere comes my Lord
Cassio. Madam, Ile take my leaue
Des. Why stay, and heare me speake
Cassio. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,Vnfit for mine owne purposes
Des. Well, do your discretion.
Exit Cassio.
Iago. Hah? I like not that
Othel. What dost thou say?Iago. Nothing my Lord; or if- I know not what
Othel. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?Iago. Cassio my Lord? No sure, I cannot thinke itThat he would steale away so guilty-like,Seeing your comming
Oth. I do beleeue 'twas he
Des. How now my Lord?I haue bin talking with a Suitor heere,A man that languishes in your displeasure
Oth. Who is't you meane?Des. Why your Lieutenant Cassio: Good my Lord,If I haue any grace, or power to moue you,His present reconciliation take.For if he be not one, that truly loues you,That erres in Ignorance, and not in Cunning,I haue no iudgement in an honest face.I prythee call him backe
Oth. Went he hence now?Des. I sooth; so humbled,That he hath left part of his greefe with meeTo suffer with him. Good Loue, call him backe
Othel. Not now (sweet Desdemon) some other time
Des. But shall't be shortly?Oth. The sooner (Sweet) for you
Des. Shall't be to night, at Supper?Oth. No, not to night
Des. To morrow Dinner then?Oth. I shall not dine at home:I meete the Captaines at the Cittadell
Des. Why then to morrow night, on Tuesday morne,On Tuesday noone, or night; on Wensday Morne.I prythee name the time, but let it notExceed three dayes. Infaith hee's penitent:And yet his Trespasse, in our common reason(Saue that they say the warres must make example)Out of her best, is not almost a faultT' encurre a priuate checke. When shall he come?Tell me Othello. I wonder in my SouleWhat you would aske me, that I should deny,Or stand so mam'ring on? What? Michael Cassio,That came a woing with you? and so many a time(When I haue spoke of you dispraisingly)Hath tane your part, to haue so much to doTo bring him in? Trust me, I could do much
Oth. Prythee no more: Let him come when he will:I will deny thee nothing
Des. Why, this is not a Boone:'Tis as I should entreate you weare your Gloues,Or feede on nourishing dishes, or keepe you warme,Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profitTo your owne person. Nay, when I haue a suiteWherein I meane to touch your Loue indeed,It shall be full of poize, and difficult waight,And fearefull to be granted
Oth. I will deny thee nothing.Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,To leaue me but a little to my selfe
Des. Shall I deny you? No: farewell my Lord
Oth. Farewell my Desdemona, Ile come to thee strait
Des. aemilia come; be as your Fancies teach you:What ere you be, I am obedient.Enter.
Oth. Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my SouleBut I do loue thee: and when I loue thee not,Chaos is come againe
Iago. My Noble Lord
Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?Iago. Did Michael CassioWhen he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue?Oth. He did, from first to last:Why dost thou aske?Iago. But for a satisfaction of my Thought,No further harme
Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?Iago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir
Oth. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft
Iago. Indeed?Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that?Is he not honest?Iago. Honest, my Lord?Oth. Honest? I, Honest
Iago. My Lord, for ought I know
Oth. What do'st thou thinke?Iago. Thinke, my Lord?Oth. Thinke, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchos't me;As if there were some Monster in thy thoughtToo hideous to be shewne. Thou dost mean somthing:I heard thee say euen now, thou lik'st not that,When Cassio left my wife. What didd'st not like?And when I told thee, he was of my Counsaile,Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeede?And didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together,As if thou then hadd'st shut vp in thy BraineSome horrible Conceite. If thou do'st loue me,Shew me thy thought
Iago. My Lord, you know I loue you
Oth. I thinke thou do'st:And for I know thou'rt full of Loue, and Honestie,And weigh'st thy words before thou giu'st them breath,Therefore these stops of thine, fright me the more:For such things in a false disloyall KnaueAre trickes of Custome: but in a man that's iust,They're close dilations, working from the heart,That Passion cannot rule
Iago. For Michael Cassio,I dare be sworne, I thinke that he is honest
Oth. I thinke so too
Iago. Men should be what they seeme,Or those that be not, would they might seeme none
Oth. Certaine, men should be what they seeme
Iago. Why then I thinke Cassio's an honest man
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this?I prythee speake to me, as to thy thinkings,As thou dost ruminate, and giue thy worst of thoughtsThe worst of words
Iago. Good my Lord pardon me,Though I am bound to euery Acte of dutie,I am not bound to that: All Slaues are free:Vtter my Thoughts? Why say, they are vild, and falce?As where's that Palace, whereinto foule thingsSometimes intrude not? Who ha's that breast so pure,Wherein vncleanly ApprehensionsKeepe Leetes, and Law-dayes, and in Sessions sitWith meditations lawfull?Oth. Thou do'st conspire against thy Friend (Iago)If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his eareA stranger to thy Thoughts
Iago. I do beseech you,Though I perchance am vicious in my guesse(As I confesse it is my Natures plagueTo spy into Abuses, and of my iealousieShapes faults that are not) that your wisedomeFrom one, that so imperfectly conceits,Would take no notice, nor build your selfe a troubleOut of his scattering, and vnsure obseruance:It were not for your quiet, nor your good,Nor for my Manhood, Honesty, and Wisedome,To let you know my thoughts
Oth. What dost thou meane?Iago. Good name in Man, & woman (deere my Lord)Is the immediate Iewell of their Soules;Who steales my purse, steales trash:'Tis something, nothing;'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has bin slaue to thousands:But he that filches from me my good Name,Robs me of that, which not enriches him,And makes me poore indeed
Oth. Ile know thy Thoughts
Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,Nor shall not, whil'st 'tis in my custodie
Oth. Ha?Iago. Oh, beware my Lord, of iealousie,It is the greene-ey'd Monster, which doth mockeThe meate it feeds on. That Cuckold liues in blisse,Who certaine of his Fate, loues not his wronger:But oh, what damned minutes tels he ore,Who dotes, yet doubts: Suspects, yet soundly loues?Oth. O miserie
Iago. Poore, and Content, is rich, and rich enough,But Riches finelesse, is as poore as Winter,To him that euer feares he shall be poore:Good Heauen, the Soules of all my Tribe defendFrom Iealousie
Oth. Why? why is this?Think'st thou, I'ld make a Life of Iealousie;To follow still the changes of the MooneWith fresh suspitions? No: to be once in doubt,Is to be resolu'd: Exchange me for a Goat,When I shall turne the businesse of my SouleTo such exufflicate, and blow'd Surmises,Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me Iealious,To say my wife is faire, feeds well, loues company,Is free of Speech, Sings, Playes, and Dances:Where Vertue is, these are more vertuous.Nor from mine owne weake merites, will I drawThe smallest feare, or doubt of her reuolt,For she had eyes, and chose me. No Iago,Ile see before I doubt; when I doubt, proue;And on the proofe, there is no more but this,Away at once with Loue, or Iealousie
Ia. I am glad of this: For now I shall haue reasonTo shew the Loue and Duty that I beare youWith franker spirit. Therefore (as I am bound)Receiue it from me. I speake not yet of proofe:Looke to your wife, obserue her well with Cassio,Weare your eyes, thus: not Iealious, nor Secure:I would not haue your free, and Noble Nature,Out of selfe-Bounty, be abus'd: Looke too't:I know our Country disposition well:In Venice, they do let Heauen see the prankesThey dare not shew their Husbands.Their best Conscience,Is not to leaue't vndone, but kept vnknowne
Oth. Dost thou say so?Iago. She did deceiue her Father, marrying you,And when she seem'd to shake, and feare your lookes,She lou'd them most
Oth. And so she did
Iago. Why go too then:Shee that so young could giue out such a SeemingTo seele her Fathers eyes vp, close as Oake,He thought 'twas Witchcraft.But I am much too blame:I humbly do beseech you of your pardonFor too much louing you
Oth. I am bound to thee for euer
Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your Spirits:Oth. Not a iot, not a iot
Iago. Trust me, I feare it has:I hope you will consider what is spokeComes from your Loue.But I do see y'are moou'd:I am to pray you, not to straine my speechTo grosser issues, nor to larger reach,Then to Suspition
Oth. I will not
Iago. Should you do so (my Lord)My speech should fall into such vilde successe,Which my Thoughts aym'd not.Cassio's my worthy Friend:My Lord, I see y'are mou'd
Oth. No, not much mou'd:I do not thinke but Desdemona's honest
Iago. Long liue she so;And long liue you to thinke so
Oth. And yet how Nature erring from it selfe
Iago. I, there's the point:As (to be bold with you)Not to affect many proposed MatchesOf her owne Clime, Complexion, and Degree,Whereto we see in all things, Nature tends:Foh, one may smel in such, a will most ranke,Foule disproportions, Thoughts vnnaturall.But (pardon me) I do not in positionDistinctly speake of her, though I may feareHer will, recoyling to her better iudgement,May fal to match you with her Country formes,And happily repent
Oth. Farewell, farewell:If more thou dost perceiue, let me know more:Set on thy wife to obserue.Leaue me Iago
Iago. My Lord, I take my leaue
Othel. Why did I marry?This honest Creature (doubtlesse)Sees, and knowes more, much more then he vnfolds
Iago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your HonorTo scan this thing no farther: Leaue it to time,Although 'tis fit that Cassio haue his Place;For sure he filles it vp with great Ability;Yet if you please, to him off a-while:You shall by that perceiue him, and his meanes:Note if your Lady straine his EntertainmentWith any strong, or vehement importunitie,Much will be seene in that: In the meane time,Let me be thought too busie in my feares,(As worthy cause I haue to feare I am)And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor
Oth. Feare not my gouernment
Iago. I once more take my leaue.Enter.
Oth. This Fellow's of exceeding honesty,And knowes all Quantities with a learn'd SpiritOf humane dealings. If I do proue her Haggard,Though that her Iesses were my deere heart-strings,I'ld whistle her off, and let her downe the windeTo prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am blacke,And haue not those soft parts of ConuersationThat Chamberers haue: Or for I am declin'dInto the vale of yeares (yet that's not much)Shee's gone. I am abus'd, and my releefeMust be to loath her. Oh Curse of Marriage!That we can call these delicate Creatures ours,And not their Appetites? I had rather be a Toad,And liue vpon the vapour of a Dungeon,Then keepe a corner in the thing I loueFor others vses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones,Prerogatiu'd are they lesse then the Base,'Tis destiny vnshunnable, like death:Euen then, this forked plague is Fated to vs,When we do quicken. Looke where she comes:Enter Desdemona and aemilia.
If she be false, Heauen mock'd it selfe:Ile not beleeue't
Des. How now, my deere Othello?Your dinner, and the generous IslandersBy you inuited, do attend your presence
Oth. I am too blame
Des. Why do you speake so faintly?Are you not well?Oth. I haue a paine vpon my Forehead, heere
Des. Why that's with watching, 'twill away againe.Let me but binde it hard, within this houreIt will be well
Oth. Your Napkin is too little:Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you.Enter.
Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.Aemil. I am glad I haue found this Napkin:This was her first remembrance from the Moore,My wayward Husband hath a hundred timesWoo'd me to steale it. But she so loues the Token,(For he coniur'd her, she should euer keepe it)That she reserues it euermore about her,To kisse, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out,And giu't Iago: what he will do with itHeauen knowes, not I:I nothing, but to please his Fantasie.Enter Iago.
Iago. How now? What do you heere alone?Aemil. Do not you chide: I haue a thing for you
Iago. You haue a thing for me?It is a common thing-Aemil. Hah?Iago. To haue a foolish wife.Aemil. Oh, is that all? What will you giue me nowFor that same Handkerchiefe
Iago. What Handkerchiefe?Aemil. What Handkerchiefe?Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona,That which so often you did bid me steale
Iago. Hast stolne it from her?Aemil. No: but she let it drop by negligence,And to th' aduantage, I being heere, took't vp:Looke, heere 'tis
Iago. A good wench, giue it me.Aemil. What will you do with't, that you haue beneso earnest to haue me filch it?Iago. Why, what is that to you?Aemil. If it be not for some purpose of import,Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, shee'l run madWhen she shall lacke it
Iago. Be not acknowne on't:I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me.
Exit aemil.
I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin,And let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre,Are to the iealious, confirmations strong,As proofes of holy Writ. This may do something.The Moore already changes with my poyson:Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons,Which at the first are scarse found to distaste:But with a little acte vpon the blood,Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so.Enter Othello.
Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora,Nor all the drowsie Syrrups of the worldShall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepeWhich thou owd'st yesterday
Oth. Ha, ha, false to mee?Iago. Why how now Generall? No more of that
Oth. Auant, be gone: Thou hast set me on the Racke:I sweare 'tis better to be much abus'd,Then but to know't a little
Iago. How now, my Lord?Oth. What sense had I, in her stolne houres of Lust?I saw't not, thought it not: it harm'd not me:I slept the next night well, fed well, was free, and merrie.I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lippes:He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolne,Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all
Iago. I am sorry to heare this?Oth. I had beene happy, if the generall Campe,Pyoners and all, had tasted her sweet Body,So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for euerFarewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content;Farewell the plumed Troopes, and the bigge Warres,That makes Ambition, Vertue! Oh farewell,Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trumpe,The Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife,The Royall Banner, and all Qualitie,Pride, Pompe, and Circumstance of glorious Warre:And O you mortall Engines, whose rude throatesTh' immortall Ioues dread Clamours, counterfet,Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone
Iago. Is't possible my Lord?Oth. Villaine, be sure thou proue my Loue a Whore;Be sure of it: Giue me the Occular proofe,Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule,Thou had'st bin better haue bin borne a DogThen answer my wak'd wrath
Iago. Is't come to this?Oth. Make me to see't: or (at the least) so proue it,That the probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope,To hang a doubt on: Or woe vpon thy life
Iago. My Noble Lord
Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,Neuer pray more: Abandon all remorseOn Horrors head, Horrors accumulate:Do deeds to make Heauen weepe, all Earth amaz'd;For nothing canst thou to damnation adde,Greater then that
Iago. O Grace! O Heauen forgiue me!Are you a Man? Haue you a Soule? or Sense?God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Foole,That lou'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice!Oh monstrous world! Take note, take note (O World)To be direct and honest, is not safe.I thanke you for this profit, and from henceIle loue no Friend, sith Loue breeds such offence
Oth. Nay stay: thou should'st be honest
Iago. I should be wise; for Honestie's a Foole,And looses that it workes for
Oth. By the World,I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not:I thinke that thou art iust, and thinke thou art not:Ile haue some proofe. My name that was as freshAs Dians Visage, is now begrim'd and blackeAs mine owne face. If there be Cords, or Kniues,Poyson, or Fire, or suffocating streames,Ile not indure it. Would I were satisfied
Iago. I see you are eaten vp with Passion:I do repent me, that I put it to you.You would be satisfied?Oth. Would? Nay, and I will
Iago. And may: but how? How satisfied, my Lord?Would you the super-vision grossely gape on?Behold her top'd?Oth. Death, and damnation. Oh!Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I thinke,To bring them to that Prospect: Damne them then,If euer mortall eyes do see them boulsterMore then their owne. What then? How then?What shall I say? Where's Satisfaction?It is impossible you should see this,Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeyes,As salt as Wolues in pride, and Fooles as grosseAs Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I say,If imputation, and strong circumstances,Which leade directly to the doore of Truth,Will giue you satisfaction, you might haue't
Oth. Giue me a liuing reason she's disloyall
Iago. I do not like the Office.But sith I am entred in this cause so farre(Prick'd too't by foolish Honesty, and Loue)I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately,And being troubled with a raging tooth,I could not sleepe. There are a kinde of men,So loose of Soule, that in their sleepes will mutterTheir Affayres: one of this kinde is Cassio:In sleepe I heard him say, sweet Desdemona,Let vs be wary, let vs hide our Loues,And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand:Cry, oh sweet Creature: then kisse me hard,As if he pluckt vp kisses by the rootes,That grew vpon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh,And sigh, and kisse, and then cry cursed Fate,That gaue thee to the Moore
Oth. O monstrous! monstrous!Iago. Nay, this was but his Dreame
Oth. But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion,'Tis a shrew'd doubt, though it be but a Dreame
Iago. And this may helpe to thicken other proofes,That do demonstrate thinly
Oth. Ile teare her all to peeces
Iago. Nay yet be wise; yet we see nothing done,She may be honest yet: Tell me but this,Haue you not sometimes seene a HandkerchiefeSpotted with Strawberries, in your wiues hand?Oth. I gaue her such a one: 'twas my first gift
Iago. I know not that: but such a Handkerchiefe(I am sure it was your wiues) did I to daySee Cassio wipe his Beard with
Oth. If it be that
Iago. If it be that, or any, it was here.It speakes against her with the other proofes
Othel. O that the Slaue had forty thousand liues:One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge.Now do I see 'tis true. Looke heere Iago,All my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone.Arise blacke vengeance, from the hollow hell,Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and hearted ThroneTo tyrannous Hate. Swell bosome with thy fraught,For 'tis of Aspickes tongues
Iago. Yet be content
Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood
Iago. Patience I say: your minde may change
Oth. Neuer Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea,Whose Icie Current, and compulsiue course,Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due onTo the Proponticke, and the Hellespont:Euen so my bloody thoughts, with violent paceShall neu'r looke backe, neu'r ebbe to humble Loue,Till that a capeable, and wide ReuengeSwallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen,In the due reuerence of a Sacred vow,I heere engage my words
Iago. Do not rise yet:Witnesse you euer-burning Lights aboue,You Elements, that clip vs round about,Witnesse that heere Iago doth giue vpThe execution of his wit, hands, heart,To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command,And to obey shall be in me remorse,What bloody businesse euer
Oth. I greet thy loue,Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,And will vpon the instant put thee too't.Within these three dayes let me heare thee say,That Cassio's not aliue
Iago. My Friend is dead:'Tis done at your Request.But let her liue
Oth. Damne her lewde Minx:O damne her, damne her.Come go with me a-part, I will withdrawTo furnish me with some swift meanes of deathFor the faire Diuell.Now art thou my Lieutenant
Iago. I am your owne for euer.
Exeunt.
Scaena Quarta.
Enter Desdemona, aemilia, and Clown.
Des. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassiolyes?Clow. I dare not say he lies any where
Des. Why man?Clo. He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Souldier lyes,'tis stabbing
Des. Go too: where lodges he?Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you whereI lye
Des. Can any thing be made of this?Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuisea lodging, and say he lies heere, or he lies there, wereto lye in mine owne throat
Des. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report?Clo. I will Catechize the world for him, that is, makeQuestions, and by them answer
Des. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will be well
Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
Exit Clo.
Des. Where should I loose the Handkerchiefe, aemilia?Aemil. I know not Madam
Des. Beleeue me, I had rather haue lost my purseFull of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble MooreIs true of minde, and made of no such basenesse,As iealious Creatures are, it were enoughTo put him to ill-thinking.Aemil. Is he not iealious?Des. Who, he? I thinke the Sun where he was borne,Drew all such humors from him.Aemil. Looke where he comes.Enter Othello.
Des. I will not leaue him now, till Cassio beCall'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord?Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to dissemble!How do you, Desdemona?Des. Well, my good Lord
Oth. Giue me your hand.This hand is moist, my Lady
Des. It hath felt no age, nor knowne no sorrow
Oth. This argues fruitfulnesse, and liberall heart:Hot, hot, and moyst. This hand of yours requiresA sequester from Liberty: Fasting, and Prayer,Much Castigation, Exercise deuout,For heere's a yong, and sweating Diuell heereThat commonly rebels: 'Tis a good hand,A franke one
Des. You may (indeed) say so:For 'twas that hand that gaue away my heart
Oth. A liberall hand. The hearts of old, gaue hands:But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts
Des. I cannot speake of this:Come, now your promise
Oth. What promise, Chucke?Des. I haue sent to bid Cassio come speake with you
Oth. I haue a salt and sorry Rhewme offends me:Lend me thy Handkerchiefe
Des. Heere my Lord
Oth. That which I gaue you
Des. I haue it not about me
Oth. Not?Des. No indeed, my Lord
Oth. That's a fault: That HandkerchiefeDid an aegyptian to my Mother giue:She was a Charmer, and could almost readThe thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it,'T would make her Amiable, and subdue my FatherIntirely to her loue: But if she lost it,Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eyeShould hold her loathed, and his Spirits should huntAfter new Fancies. She dying, gaue it me,And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd)To giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't,Make it a Darling, like your precious eye:To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition,As nothing else could match
Des. Is't possible?Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it:A Sybill that had numbred in the worldThe Sun to course, two hundred compasses,In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke:The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke,And it was dyde in Mummey, which the SkilfullConseru'd of Maidens hearts
Des. Indeed? Is't true?Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well
Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't?Oth. Ha? wherefore?Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash?Oth. Is't lost? Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way?Des. Blesse vs
Oth. Say you?Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were?Oth. How?Des. I say it is not lost
Oth. Fetcht, let me see't
Des. Why so I can: but I will not now:This is a tricke to put me from my suite,Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe
Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe,My minde mis-giues
Des. Come, come: you'l neuer meete a more sufficientman
Oth. The Handkerchiefe
Des. A man that all his timeHath founded his good Fortunes on your loue;Shar'd dangers with you