Alas the day!

EMIL.

Hath she forsook so many noble matches?

Her father? and her country? and her friends?

To be call'd whore? Would it not make one weep?

DES.

It is my wretched fortune.

IAGO.

Beshrew him for't!

How comes this trick upon him?

DES.

Nay, heaven doth know.

EMIL.

I will be hang'd if some eternal villain,

Some busy and insinuating rogue,

Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,

Have not devis'd this slander. I will be hang'd else.

IAGO.

Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible.

DES.

If any such there be, heaven pardon him!

EMIL.

A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones!

Why should he call her whore? Who keeps her company?

What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?

The Moor's abus'd by some most villainous knave,

Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.

O [heaven], that such companions thou'dst unfold,

And put in every honest hand a whip

To lash the rascals naked through the world

Even from the east to th' west!

IAGO.

Speak within door.

EMIL.

O fie upon them! Some such squire he was

That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,

And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

IAGO.

You are a fool; go to.

DES.

Alas, Iago,

What shall I do to win my lord again?

Good friend, go to him; for by this light of heaven,

I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:

If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,

Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,

Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense

Delighted them [in] any other form;

Or that I do not yet, and ever did,

And ever will (though he do shake me off

To beggarly divorcement) love him dearly,

Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much,

And his unkindness may defeat my life,

But never taint my love. I cannot say »whore.«

It does abhor me now I speak the word;

To do the act that might the addition earn,

Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.

IAGO.

I pray you be content; 'tis but his humor.

The business of the state does him offense,

[And he does chide with you].

DES.

If 'twere no other –

IAGO.

It is but so, I warrant.

 

[Trumpets within.]

 

Hark how these instruments summon to supper!

The messengers of Venice stays the meat.

Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.

 

Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.

 

Enter Roderigo.

 

How now, Roderigo?

ROD. I do not find that thou deal'st justly with me.

IAGO. What in the contrary?

ROD. Every day thou daff'st me with some device, Iago, and rather, as it seems to me now, keep'st from me all conveniency than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure it; nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suff'red.

IAGO. Will you hear me, Roderigo?

ROD. [Faith,] I have heard too much; [for] your words and performances are no kin together.

IAGO. You charge me most unjustly.

ROD. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver Desdemona would half have corrupted a votarist. You have told me she hath receiv'd them and return'd me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance, but I find none.

IAGO. Well, go to; very well.

ROD. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man, nor 'tis not very well. [By this hand,] I think it is scurvy, and begin to find myself fopp'd in it.

IAGO. Very well.

ROD. I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona. If she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of you.

IAGO. You have said now.

ROD. Ay; and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing.

IAGO. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo. Thou hast taken against me a most just exception; but yet I protest I have dealt most directly in thy affair.

ROD. It hath not appear'd.

IAGO.