Othello Page #17

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Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight,

I do entreat that we may sup together:

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

Exit

LODOVICO:

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 changed.

LODOVICO:

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!

LODOVICO:

What, strike his wife!

IAGO:

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

That stroke would prove the worst!

LODOVICO:

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.

LODOVICO:

I am sorry that I am deceived in him.

Exeunt

SCENE II. A room in the castle.

Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA

OTHELLO:

You have seen nothing then?

EMILIA:

Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.

OTHELLO:

Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.

EMILIA:

But then I saw no harm, and then I heard

Each syllable that breath made up between them.

OTHELLO:

What, did they never whisper?

EMILIA:

Never, my lord.

OTHELLO:

Nor send you out o' the way?

EMILIA:

Never.

OTHELLO:

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

EMILIA:

Never, my lord.

OTHELLO:

That's strange.

EMILIA:

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.

OTHELLO:

Bid her come hither: go.

Exit EMILIA

She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd

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

A closet lock and key of villanous secrets

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

Enter DESDEMONA with EMILIA

DESDEMONA:

My lord, what is your will?

OTHELLO:

Pray, chuck, come hither.

DESDEMONA:

What is your pleasure?

OTHELLO:

Let me see your eyes;

Look in my face.

DESDEMONA:

What horrible fancy's this?

OTHELLO:

[To EMILIA] Some of your function, mistress;

Leave procreants alone and shut the door;

Cough, or cry 'hem,' if any body come:

Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch.

Exit EMILIA

DESDEMONA:

Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?

I understand a fury in your words.

But not the words.

OTHELLO:

Why, what art thou?

DESDEMONA:

Your wife, my lord; your true

And loyal wife.

OTHELLO:

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.

DESDEMONA:

Heaven doth truly know it.

OTHELLO:

Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.

DESDEMONA:

To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?

OTHELLO:

O Desdemona! away! away! away!

DESDEMONA:

Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?

Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?

If haply 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.

OTHELLO:

Had it pleased heaven

To try me with affliction; had they rain'd

All kinds 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

A 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 cistern for foul toads

To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,

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

Ay, there, look grim as hell!

DESDEMONA:

I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

OTHELLO:

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

ne'er been born!

DESDEMONA:

Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

OTHELLO:

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 it. What committed!

Impudent strumpet!

DESDEMONA:

By heaven, you do me wrong.

OTHELLO:

Are you not a strumpet?

DESDEMONA:

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.

OTHELLO:

What, not a whore?

DESDEMONA:

No, as I shall be saved.

OTHELLO:

Is't possible?

DESDEMONA:

O, heaven forgive us!

OTHELLO:

I cry you mercy, then:

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice

That married with Othello.

Raising his voice

You, mistress,

That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,

And keep the gate of hell!

Re-enter EMILIA

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

EMILIA:

Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?

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

DESDEMONA:

'Faith, half asleep.

EMILIA:

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

DESDEMONA:

With who?

EMILIA:

Why, with my lord, madam.

DESDEMONA:

Who is thy lord?

EMILIA:

He that is yours, sweet lady.

DESDEMONA:

I have none:
do not talk to me, Emilia;

I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,

But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight

Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember;

And call thy husband hither.

EMILIA:

Here's a change indeed!

Exit

DESDEMONA:

'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.

How have I been behaved, that he might stick

The small'st opinion on my least misuse?

Re-enter EMILIA with IAGO

IAGO:

What is your pleasure, madam?

How is't with you?

DESDEMONA:

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's the matter, lady?

EMILIA:

Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her.

Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,

As true hearts cannot bear.

DESDEMONA:

Am I that name, Iago?

IAGO:

What name, fair lady?

DESDEMONA:

Such as she says my lord did say I was.

EMILIA:

He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink

Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.

IAGO:

Why did he so?

DESDEMONA:

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

IAGO:

Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!

EMILIA:

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?

DESDEMONA:

It is my wretched fortune.

IAGO:

Beshrew him for't!

How comes this trick upon him?

DESDEMONA:

Nay, heaven doth know.

EMILIA:

I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,

Some busy and insinuating rogue,

Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,

Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else.

IAGO:

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

DESDEMONA:

If any such there be, heaven pardon him!

EMILIA:

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 abused by some most villanous knave,

Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.

O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold,

And put in every honest hand a whip

To lash the rascals naked through the world

Even from the east to the west!

IAGO:

Speak within door.

EMILIA:

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.

DESDEMONA:

O good 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 humour:

The business of the state does him offence,

And he does chide with you.

DESDEMONA:

If 'twere no other--

IAGO:

'Tis but so, I warrant.

Trumpets within

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