Othello Page #10

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damnation add greater than that.

O, grace! O, heaven defend me.

Are you a man? Have you a soul or sense?

God bu'y, take mine office.

O, wretched fool that liv'st

to make thine honesty a vice.

O, monstrous world! Take note, o, world,

to be direct and honest is not safe.

I thank you for this profit, and

from hence I'll love no friend...

...since love breeds such offense.

- Nay, stay. Thou shouldst be honest.

I should be wise, for honesty's a

fool and loses that it works for.

By the world, I think my wife

be honest and think she is not.

I think thou art just and think

thou art not. I'll have some proof.

Thy name which was as

fresh as Dian's visage...

...is now begrimed and

black as mine own face.

If there be cords or knives, poison

or fire or suffocating streams...

...I'll not endure it.

- Would I were satisfied.

- I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion.

I do repent me that I put it

to you. You would be satisfied?

- Would. Nay, I will.

- And may, but how?

How satisfied, my lord? Would you,

the supervisor, grossly gape on?

- Behold her topped?

- Death and damnation! O!

It were a tedious difficulty, I

think, to bring them to that prospect.

Damn them if ever mortal eyes shall

see them bolster more than their own.

What then? How then? What shall

I say? Where is satisfaction?

It is impossible you should see

this, were they as prime as goats...

...as hot as monkeys, as

salt as wolves in pride...

...and fools as gross

as ignorance made drunk.

Yet I say if imputation

and strong circumstance...

...that lead to the door of truth will

give you satisfaction, you may have it.

- Give me a living reason she's disloyal.

- I do not like the office.

But sith I am entered in this cause so far...

...pricked to't by

foolish honesty and love...

...I will go on.

I lay with Cassio lately...

...and being troubled with a

raging tooth, I could not sleep.

There are a kind of men so loose of soul that

in their sleeps will mutter their affairs.

One of this kind is Cassio.

In sleep I heard him say:

"Sweet Desdemona...

...let us be wary. Let us hide our loves."

Then, sir, would he gripe and wring

my hand, cry out, "Sweet creature."

Then he kissed me hard, as if he plucked up

kisses by the roots that grew upon my lips.

Then laid his leg over my thigh and

sighed and kissed and then cried:

"Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!"

O, monstrous!

- Monstrous!

- Nay, this was but a dream.

- But this denoted a foregone conclusion.

- A shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.

And this may help to thicken other

proofs that do demonstrate thinly.

I'll tear her all to pieces!

Nay, but be wise, yet we see

nothing done. She may be honest yet.

Tell me but this, have you not

sometimes seen a handkerchief...

...spotted with strawberries

in your wife's hand?

I gave her such a one. 'Twas my first gift.

I know not that, but such a handkerchief...

I am sure it was your wife's.

- Did I today see Cassio

wipe his beard with.

- Lf it be that...

- If it be that or any that was hers...

...it speaks against her

with the other proofs.

That the slave had 4o, ooo lives!

One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.

Now do I see 'tis true.

Look here, lago.

All my fond love...

...thus do I blow to heaven.

'Tis gone.

Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell.

Yield up, o, love, thy crown and

hearted throne to tyrannous hate.

Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,

for 'tis of aspics' tongues!

IAGo:
Pray, be content. OTHELLo: O, blood!

Blood!

- Blood!

- Patience, I say.

- Your mind perhaps may change.

- Never, lago.

Like to the Pontic sea...

...whose icy current and compulsive

course ne'er feels retiring ebb...

...but keeps due on to the

Propontic and the Hellespont...

...even so my bloody

thoughts, with violent pace...

...shall ne'er look back,

ne'er ebb to humble...

...love...

...till that a capable and

wide revenge swallow them up.

Now, by yond marble heaven...

...in the due reverence of a

sacred vow, I here engage my words.

Do not rise yet. Witness,

ever-burning lights above...

...you elements that clip us

round about, witness that here...

...lago doth give up the execution

of his wit, hands, heart...

...to wronged othello's service.

Let him command and to obey

shall be in me remorse...

...what bloody work soever.

I greet thy love...

...not with vain thanks, but

with acceptance bounteous.

And will upon the instant put thee to't.

Within these three days,

let me hear thee say...

...that Cassio is not alive.

My friend is dead, 'tis done as

you request. But let her live.

Damn her, lewd minx!

O, damn her! Damn her.

Come, go with me apart.

I will go furnish me with some swift

means of death for the fair devil.

Now art thou...

...my lieutenant.

I am your own...

...forever.

Where should I lose that

handkerchief, Emilia?

I know not, madam.

Believe me, I had rather lose

my purse full of crusadoes.

And, but my noble Moor is true of

mind and made of no such baseness...

...as jealous creatures are, 'twere

enough to put him to ill thinking.

- Is he not jealous?

- Who, he?

I think the sun where he was born

drew all such humors from him.

- Look, here he comes.

- I will not leave him now.

Let Cassio be called to him.

How is it with you, my lord?

Well, good my lady.

O, hardness to dissemble.

- How do you, Desdemona?

- Well, my good lord.

Give me your hand.

This hand is moist, my lady.

It yet hath felt no pain nor known no sorrow.

This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart.

Hot...

...hot...

...and moist.

This hand of yours requires

a sequester from liberty...

...fasting and prayer...

...much castigation, exercise devout.

For there's a young and sweating

devil here that commonly rebels.

'Tis a good hand...

...a frank one.

You may, indeed, say so, for 'twas

that hand that gave away my heart.

A liberal hand.

The hearts of old gave hands, but

our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

I cannot speak of this.

Come, come, your promise.

What promise, chuck?

I have sent to bid Cassio

come speak with you.

I have a salt and sullen rheum

offends me. Lend me thy handkerchief.

- Here, my good lord.

- That which I gave you.

- I have it not about me.

- Not?

No, indeed, my lord.

That's a fault.

That handkerchief did an

Egyptian to my mother give.

She was a charmer and could

almost read the thoughts of people.

She told her while she kept

it 'twould make her amiable...

...and subdue my father entirely to her love.

But if she lost it or made a gift of it...

...my father's eye should hold her loathly...

...and his spirits should

hunt after new fancies.

She, dying, gave it me...

...and bade me, when my fate

would have me wife, to give it her.

I did so and take heed on't.

Make it a darling like your precious eye.

To lose it or give't away...

...were such perdition as

nothing else could match.

- Is't possible?

- 'Tis true.

There's magic in the web of it.

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