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
Oth. The Handkerchiefe
Des. Insooth, you are too blame
Oth. Away.
Exit Othello.
Aemil. Is not this man iealious?Des. I neu'r saw this before.Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe,I am most vnhappy in the losse of it.Aemil. 'Tis not a yeare or two shewes vs a man:They are all but Stomackes, and we all but Food,They eate vs hungerly, and when they are fullThey belch vs.Enter Iago, and Cassio.
Looke you, Cassio and my Husband
Iago. There is no other way: 'tis she must doo't:And loe the happinesse: go, and importune her
Des. How now (good Cassio) what's the newes withyou?Cassio. Madam, my former suite. I do beseech you,That by your vertuous meanes, I may againeExist, and be a member of his loue,Whom I, with all the Office of my heartIntirely honour, I would not be delayd.If my offence, be of such mortall kinde,That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes,Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,Can ransome me into his loue againe,But to know so, must be my benefit:So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content,And shut my selfe vp in some other courseTo Fortunes Almes
Des. Alas (thrice-gentle Cassio)My Aduocation is not now in Tune;My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him,Were he in Fauour, as in Humour alter'd.So helpe me euery spirit sanctified,As I haue spoken for you all my best,And stood within the blanke of his displeasureFor my free speech. You must awhile be patient:What I can do, I will: and more I willThen for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you
Iago. Is my Lord angry?Aemil. He went hence but now:And certainly in strange vnquietnesse
Iago. Can he be angry? I haue seen the CannonWhen it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre,And like the Diuell from his very ArmePuff't his owne Brother: And is he angry?Something of moment then: I will go meet him,There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
Exit
Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State,Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practiseMade demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him,Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases,Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things,Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so.For let our finger ake, and it enduesOur other healthfull members, euen to a senseOf paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods,Nor of them looke for such obseruancieAs fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia,I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am)Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule:But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse,And he's Indited falsely.Aemil. Pray heauen it beeState matters, as you thinke, and no Conception,Nor no Iealious Toy, concerning you
Des. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him cause.Aemil. But Iealious soules will not be answer'd so;They are not euer iealious for the cause,But iealious, for they're iealious. It is a MonsterBegot vpon it selfe, borne on it selfe
Des. Heauen keepe the Monster from Othello's mind.Aemil. Lady, Amen
Des. I will go seeke him. Cassio, walke heere about:If I doe finde him fit, Ile moue your suite,And seeke to effect it to my vttermost.
Exit
Cas. I humbly thanke your Ladyship.Enter Bianca.
Bian. 'Saue you (Friend Cassio.)Cassio. What make you from home?How is't with you, my most faire Bianca?Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house
Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Cassio.What? keepe a weeke away? Seuen dayes, and Nights?Eight score eight houres? And Louers absent howresMore tedious then the Diall, eight score times?Oh weary reck'ning
Cassio. Pardon me, Bianca:I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest,But I shall in a more continuate timeStrike off this score of absence. Sweet BiancaTake me this worke out
Bianca. Oh Cassio, whence came this?This is some Token from a newer Friend,To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause:Is't come to this? Well, well
Cassio. Go too, woman:Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth,From whence you haue them. You are iealious now,That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance;No, in good troth Bianca
Bian. Why, who's is it?Cassio. I know not neither:I found it in my Chamber,I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded(As like enough it will) I would haue it coppied:Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time
Bian. Leaue you? Wherefore?Cassio. I do attend heere on the Generall,And thinke it no addition, nor my wishTo haue him see me woman'd
Bian. Why, I pray you?Cassio. Not that I loue you not
Bian. But that you do not loue me.I pray you bring me on the way a little,And say, if I shall see you soone at night?Cassio. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone
Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd.
Exeunt. omnes.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Othello, and Iago.
Iago. Will you thinke so?Oth. Thinke so, Iago?Iago. What, to kisse in priuate?Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse?Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed,An houre, or more, not meaning any harme?Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme?It is hypocrisie against the Diuell:They that meane vertuously, and yet do so,The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen
Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip:But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe
Oth. What then?Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers,She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man
Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too:May she giue that?Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene,They haue it very oft, that haue it not.But for the Handkerchiefe
Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it:Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie,As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house:Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe
Iago . I: what of that?Othe. That's not so good now
Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong?Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad,Who hauing by their owne importunate suit,Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris,Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuseBut they must blab.)Oth. Hath he said any thing?Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd,No more then he'le vn-sweare
Oth. What hath he said?Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did
Othe. What? What?Iago. Lye
Oth. With her?Iago. With her? On her: what you will
Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her, when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome: Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse, and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd, and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish) Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe? O diuell.
Falls in a Traunce.
Iago. Worke on,My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught,And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus,(All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord?My Lord, I say: Othello.Enter Cassio.
How now Cassio?Cas. What's the matter?Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie,This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday
Cas. Rub him about the Temples
Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course:If not, he foames at mouth: and by and byBreakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres:Do you withdraw your selfe a little while,He will recouer straight: when he is gone,I would on great occasion, speake with you.How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head?Othe. Dost thou mocke me?Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen:Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man
Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast
Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty,And many a ciuill Monster
Othe. Did he confesse it?Iago. Good Sir, be a man:Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'dMay draw with you. There's Millions now aliue,That nightly lye in those vnproper beds,Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better.Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock,To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch;And to suppose her chast. No, let me know,And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe
Oth. Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine
Iago. Stand you a while apart,Confine your selfe but in a patient List,Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe(A passion most resulting such a man)Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie,Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me,The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe,And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable ScornesThat dwell in euery Region of his face.For I will make him tell the Tale anew;Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and whenHe hath, and is againe to cope your wife.I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience,Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene,And nothing of a man
Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago,I will be found most cunning in my Patience:But (do'st thou heare) most bloody
Iago. That's not amisse,But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw?Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,A Huswife that by selling her desiresBuyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a CreatureThat dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plagueTo be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one)He, when he heares of her, cannot restraineFrom the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes.Enter Cassio.
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad:And his vnbookish Ielousie must conseruePoore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauioursQuite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?Cas. The worser, that you giue me the addition,Whose want euen killes me
Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't:Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre,How quickely should you speed?Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe
Oth. Looke how he laughes already
Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so
Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me
Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out
Iago. Do you heare Cassio?Oth. Now he importunes himTo tell it o're: go too, well said, well said
Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her.Do you intend it?Cas. Ha, ha, ha
Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph?Cas. I marry. What? A customer; prythee beareSome Charitie to my wit, do not thinke itSo vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha
Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes
Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her
Cas. Prythee say true
Iago. I am a very Villaine else
Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well
Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out:She is perswaded I will marry herOut of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise
Oth. Iago becomes me: now he begins the story
Cassio. She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery place. I was the other day talking on the Seabanke with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck
Oth. Crying oh deere Cassio, as it were: his iesture importsit
Cassio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me:So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha
Oth. Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber: oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dogge, I shall throw it to
Cassio. Well, I must leaue her companie
Iago. Before me: looke where she comes.Enter Bianca.
Cas. 'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one? What do you meane by this haunting of me? Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there. This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke? There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had it, Ile take out no worke on't
Cassio. How now, my sweete Bianca?How now? How now?Othe. By Heauen, that should be my Handkerchiefe
Bian. If you'le come to supper to night you may, ifyou will not come when you are next prepar'd for.
Exit
Iago. After her: after her
Cas. I must, shee'l rayle in the streets else
Iago. Will you sup there?Cassio. Yes, I intend so
Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would veryfaine speake with you
Cas. Prythee come: will you?Iago. Go too; say no more
Oth. How shall I murther him, Iago
Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice?Oth. Oh, Iago
Iago. And did you see the Handkerchiefe?Oth. Was that mine?Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizesthe foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him and, hehath giu'n it his whore
Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing:A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman?Iago. Nay, you must forget that
Othello. I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an Emperours side, and command him Taskes
Iago. Nay, that's not your way
Othe. Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate with her Needle: an admirable Musitian. Oh she will sing the Sauagenesse out of a Beare: of so high and plenteous wit, and inuention? Iago. She's the worse for all this
Othe. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times:And then of so gentle a condition?Iago. I too gentle
Othe. Nay that's certaine:But yet the pitty of it, Iago: oh Iago, the pitty of itIago
Iago. If you are so fond ouer her iniquitie: giue her pattent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere no body
Oth. I will chop her into Messes: Cuckold me?Iago. Oh, 'tis foule in her
Oth. With mine Officer?Iago. That's fouler
Othe. Get me some poyson, Iago, this night. Ile not expostulate with her: least her body and beautie vnprouide my mind againe: this night Iago
Iago. Do it not with poyson, strangle her in her bed,Euen the bed she hath contaminated
Oth. Good, good:The Iustice of it pleases: very good
Iago. And for Cassio, let me be his vndertaker:You shall heare more by midnight.Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants.
Othe. Excellent good: What Trumpet is that same?Iago. I warrant something from Venice,'Tis Lodouico, this, comes from the Duke.See, your wife's with him
Lodo. Saue you worthy Generall
Othe. With all my heart Sir
Lod. The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you
Othe. I kisse the Instrument of their pleasures
Des. And what's the newes, good cozen LodouicoIago. I am very glad to see you Signior:Welcome to Cyprus
Lod. I thanke you: how do's Lieutenant Cassio?Iago. Liues Sir,Des. Cozen, there's falne betweene him, & my Lord,An vnkind breach: but you shall make all well
Othe. Are you sure of that?Des. My Lord?Othe. This faile you not to do, as you will-Lod. He did not call: he's busie in the paper,Is there deuision 'twixt my Lord, and Cassio?Des. A most vnhappy one: I would do muchT' attone, them, for the loue I beare to Cassio
Oth. Fire, and brimestone
Des. My Lord
Oth. Are you wise?Des. What is he angrie?Lod. May be the Letter mou'd him.For as I thinke, they do command him home,Deputing Cassio in his Gouernment
Des. Trust me, I am glad on't
Othe. Indeed?Des. My Lord?Othe. I am glad to see you mad
Des. Why, sweete Othello?Othe. Diuell
Des. I haue not deseru'd this
Lod. My Lord, this would not be beleeu'd in Venice,Though I should sweare I saw't. 'Tis very much,Make her amends: she weepes
Othe. Oh diuell, diuell:If that the Earth could teeme with womans teares,Each drop she falls, would proue a Crocodile:Out of my sight
Des. I will not stay to offend you
Lod. Truely obedient Lady:I do beseech your Lordship call her backe
Othe. Mistris
Des. My Lord
Othe. What would you with her, Sir?Lod. Who I, my Lord?Othe. I, you did wish, that I would make her turne:Sir, she can turne, and turne: and yet go onAnd turne againe. And she can weepe, Sir, weepe.And she's obedient: as you say obedient.Very obedient: proceed you in your teares.Concerning this Sir, (oh well-painted passion)I am commanded home: get you away:Ile send for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate,And will returne to Venice. Hence, auaunt:Cassio shall haue my Place. And Sir, to nightI do entreat, that we may sup together.You are welcome Sir to Cyprus.Goates, and Monkeys.Enter.
Lod. Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full SenateCall all in all sufficient? Is this the NatureWhom Passion could not shake? Whose solid vertueThe shot of Accident, nor dart of ChanceCould neither graze, nor pierce?Iago. He is much chang'd
Lod. Are his wits safe? Is he not light of Braine?Iago. He's that he is: I may not breath my censure.What he might be: if what he might, he is not,I would to heauen he were
Lod. What? Strike his wife?Iago. 'Faith that was not so well: yet would I knewThat stroke would proue the worst
Lod. Is it his vse?Or did the Letters, worke vpon his blood,And new create his fault?Iago. Alas, alas:It is not honestie in me to speakeWhat I haue seene, and knowne. You shall obserue him,And his owne courses will denote him so,That I may saue my speech: do but go afterAnd marke how he continues
Lod. I am sorry that I am deceiu'd in him.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Othello and aemilia.
Othe. You haue seene nothing then?Aemil. Nor euer heard: nor euer did suspect
Othe. Yes, you haue seene Cassio, and she together
Aemi. But then I saw no harme: and then I heard,Each syllable that breath made vp betweene them
Othe. What? Did they neuer whisper?Aemil. Neuer my Lord
Othe. Nor send you out o'th' way?Aemil. Neuer
Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor nothing?Aemil. Neuer my Lord
Othe. That's strange.Aemil. I durst (my Lord) to wager, she is honest:Lay downe my Soule at stake: If you thinke other,Remoue your thought. It doth abuse your bosome:If any wretch haue put this in your head,Let Heauen requit it with the Serpents curse,For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,There's no man happy. The purest of their WiuesIs foule as Slander