'Tis very much,

Make her amends; she weeps.

OTH.

O devil, devil!

If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,

Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.

Out of my sight!

DES.

I will not stay to offend you.

 

[Going.]

 

LOD.

Truly, [an] obedient lady:

I do beseech your lordship call her back.

OTH.

Mistress!

DES.

My lord?

OTH.

What would you with her, sir?

LOD.

Who, I, my lord?

OTH.

Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn.

Sir, she can turn, and turn; and yet go on

And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;

And she's obedient, as you say, obedient;

Very obedient. – Proceed you in your tears. –

Concerning this, sir – O well-painted passion! –

I am commanded home. – Get you away;

I'll send for you anon. – Sir, I obey the mandate,

And will return to Venice. – Hence, avaunt!

 

[Exit Desdemona.]

 

Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night

I do entreat that we may sup together.

You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. – Goats and monkeys!

 

Exit.

 

LOD.

Is this the noble Moor whom our full Senate

Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature

Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue

The shot of accident nor dart of chance

Could neither graze nor pierce?

IAGO.

He is much chang'd.

LOD.

Are his wits safe? Is he not light of brain?

IAGO.

He's that he is; I may not breathe my censure

What he might be. If what he might he is not,

I would to heaven he were!

LOD.

What? strike his wife?

IAGO.

Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew

That stroke would prove the worst!

LOD.

Is it his use?

Or did the letters work upon his blood,

And new-create [this] fault?

IAGO.

Alas, alas!

It is not honesty in me to speak

What I have seen and known. You shall observe him,

And his own courses will denote him so

That I may save my speech. Do but go after,

And mark how he continues.

LOD.

I am sorry that I am deceiv'd in him.

 

Exeunt.

 

 

Scene II

Enter Othello and Emilia.

 

OTH.

You have seen nothing then?

EMIL.

Nor ever heard – nor ever did suspect.

OTH.

Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.

EMIL.

But then I saw no harm, and then I heard

Each syllable that breath made up between them.

OTH.

What? did they never whisper?

EMIL.

Never, my lord.

OTH.

Nor send you out o' th' way?

EMIL.

Never.

OTH.

To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?

EMIL.

Never, my lord.

OTH.

That's strange.

EMIL.

I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest;

Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other,

Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.

If any wretch have put this in your head,

Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!

For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,

There's no man happy; the purest of their wives

Is foul as slander.

OTH.

Bid her come hither; go.

 

Exit Emilia.

 

She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd

That cannot say as much. This is a subtile whore,

A closet lock and key of villainous secrets;

And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't.

 

Enter Desdemona and Emilia.

 

DES.

My lord, what is your will?

OTH.

Pray you, chuck, come hither.

DES.

What is your pleasure?

OTH.

Let me see your eyes;

Look in my face.

DES.

What horrible fancy's this?

OTH [To Emilia.]

Some of your function, mistress;

Leave procreants alone, and shut the door;

Cough, or cry »hem,« if anybody come.

Your mystery, your mystery; [nay], dispatch.

 

Exit Emilia.

 

DES.

Upon my knee, what doth your speech import?

I understand a fury in your words,

[But not the words].

OTH.

Why? what art thou?

DES.

Your wife, my lord; your true

And loyal wife.

OTH.

Come swear it, damn thyself,

Lest being like one of heaven, the devils themselves

Should fear to seize thee; therefore be double damn'd:

Swear thou art honest.

DES.

Heaven doth truly know it.

OTH.

Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.

DES.

To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I false?

OTH.

Ah, Desdemon! Away, away, away!

DES.

Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?

Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?

If happily you my father do suspect

An instrument of this your calling back,

Lay not your blame on me. If you have lost him,

[Why,] I have lost him too.

OTH.

Had it pleas'd heaven

To try me with affliction, had they rain'd

All kind of sores and shames on my bare head,

Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,

Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,

I should have found in some place of my soul

A drop of patience; but, alas, to make me

The fixed figure for the time of scorn

To point his slow [unmoving] finger at!

Yet could I bear that too, well, very well;

But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,

Where either I must live or bear no life;

The fountain from the which my current runs

Or else dries up: to be discarded thence!

Or keep it as a cestern for foul toads

To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,

Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin –

Ay, here look grim as hell!

DES.

I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

OTH.

O ay, as summer flies are in the shambles,

That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed!

Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet

That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst never been born!

DES.

Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

OTH.

Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,

Made to write »whore« upon? What committed?

Committed? O thou public commoner,

I should make very forges of my cheeks,

That would to cinders burn up modesty,

Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed?

Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;

The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,

Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth

And will not hear't. What committed?

[Impudent strumpet!]

DES.

By heaven, you do me wrong.

OTH.

Are not you a strumpet?

DES.

No, as I am a Christian.

If to preserve this vessel for my lord

From any other foul unlawful touch

Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.

OTH.

What, not a whore?

DES.

No, as I shall be sav'd.

OTH.

Is't possible?

DES.

O, heaven forgive us!

OTH.

I cry you mercy then.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice

That married with Othello. –

 

[Raising his voice.]

 

You, mistress,

 

Enter Emilia.

 

That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,

And keeps the gate of hell! You, you! ay, you!

We have done our course; there's money for your pains.

I pray you turn the key and keep our counsel.

 

Exit.

 

EMIL.

Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?

How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?

DES.

Faith, half asleep.

EMIL.

Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?

DES.

With who?

EMIL.

Why, with my lord, madam.

DES.

Who is thy lord?

EMIL.

He that is yours, sweet lady.

DES.

I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia;

I cannot weep, nor answers have I none

But what should go by water. Prithee to-night

Lay on my bed my wedding-sheets – remember;

And call thy husband hither.

EMIL.

Here's a change indeed!

 

Exit.

 

DES.

'Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet.

How have I been behav'd, that he might stick

The small'st opinion on my least misuse?

 

Enter Iago and Emilia.

 

IAGO.

What is your pleasure, madam? How is't with you?

DES.

I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes

Do it with gentle means and easy tasks.

He might have chid me so; for in good faith

I am a child to chiding.

IAGO.

What is the matter, lady?

EMIL.

Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her,

Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,

That true hearts cannot bear it.

DES.

Am I that name, Iago?

IAGO.

What name, fair lady?

DES.

Such as she said my lord did say I was.

EMIL.

He call'd her whore. A beggar in his drink

Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.

IAGO.

Why did he so?

DES.

I do not know; I am sure I am none such.

IAGO.

Do not weep, do not weep.