Othello, the Moor of Venice

                                        Went he hence now?

DESDEMONA

Ay, sooth; so humbledThat he hath left part of his grief with meTo suffer with him. Good love, call him back.

OTHELLO

Not now, sweet Desdemon; some other time.

DESDEMONA

But shall't be shortly?

OTHELLO

                                   The sooner, sweet, for you.

DESDEMONA

Shall't be to-night at supper?

OTHELLO

                                              No, not to-night.

DESDEMONA

To-morrow dinner then?

OTHELLO

                                        I shall not dine at home;I meet the captains at the citadel.

DESDEMONA

Why then to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn: —I pr'ythee, name the time; but let it notExceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;And yet his trespass, in our common reason, —Save that, they say, the wars must make examplesOut of their best, – is not almost a faultTo incur a private check. When shall he come?Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul,What you would ask me, that I should deny,Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,That came awooing with you; and so many a time,When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,Hath ta'en your part; – to have so much to doTo bring him in! Trust me, I could do much, —

OTHELLO

Pr'ythee, no more; let him come when he will;I will deny thee nothing.

DESDEMONA

                                       Why, this is not a boon;'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,Or sue to you to do a peculiar profitTo your own person: nay, when I have a suitWherein I mean to touch your love indeed,It shall be full of poise and difficult weight,And fearful to be granted.

OTHELLO

                                          I will deny thee nothing:Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,To leave me but a little to myself.

DESDEMONA

Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord.

OTHELLO

Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight.

DESDEMONA

Emilia, come. – Be as your fancies teach you;Whate'er you be, I am obedient.

[Exit with Emilia.]

OTHELLO

Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,Chaos is come again.

IAGO

My noble lord, —

OTHELLO

                            What dost thou say, Iago?

IAGO

Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,Know of your love?

OTHELLO

He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?

IAGO

But for a satisfaction of my thought;No further harm.

OTHELLO

                            Why of thy thought, Iago?

IAGO

I did not think he had been acquainted with her.

OTHELLO

O, yes; and went between us very oft.

IAGO

Indeed!

OTHELLO

Indeed! ay, indeed: – discern'st thou aught in that?Is he not honest?

IAGO

Honest, my lord!

OTHELLO

Honest! ay, honest.

IAGO

My lord, for aught I know.

OTHELLO

What dost thou think?

IAGO

Think, my lord!

OTHELLO

Think, my lord! By heaven, he echoes me,As if there were some monster in his thoughtToo hideous to be shown. – Thou dost mean something:I heard thee say even now, – thou lik'dst not that,When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like?And when I told thee he was of my counselIn my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, "Indeed!"And didst contract and purse thy brow together,As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brainSome horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,Show me thy thought.

IAGO

My lord, you know I love you.

OTHELLO

                                                  I think thou dost;And, – for I know thou'rt full of love and honestyAnd weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath, —Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:For such things in a false disloyal knaveAre tricks of custom; but in a man that's justThey're close delations, working from the heart,That passion cannot rule.

IAGO

                                          For Michael Cassio,I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.

OTHELLO

I think so too.

IAGO

                        Men should be what they seem;Or those that be not, would they might seem none!

OTHELLO

Certain, men should be what they seem.

IAGO

Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man.

OTHELLO

Nay, yet there's more in this:I pr'ythee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughtsThe worst of words.

IAGO

                                  Good my lord, pardon me:Though I am bound to every act of duty,I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false; —As where's that palace whereinto foul thingsSometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pureBut some uncleanly apprehensionsKeep leets and law-days, and in session sitWith meditations lawful?

OTHELLO

Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,If thou but think'st him wrong'd and mak'st his earA stranger to thy thoughts.

IAGO

                                           I do beseech you, —Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,As, I confess, it is my nature's plagueTo spy into abuses, and of my jealousyShape faults that are not, – that your wisdom yet,From one that so imperfectly conceits,Would take no notice; nor build yourself a troubleOut of his scattering and unsure observance: —It were not for your quiet nor your good,Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,To let you know my thoughts.

OTHELLO

                                                 What dost thou mean?

IAGO

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,Is the immediate jewel of their souls:Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;But he that filches from me my good nameRobs me of that which not enriches himAnd makes me poor indeed.

OTHELLO

By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.

IAGO

You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.

OTHELLO

Ha!

IAGO

        O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;It is the green-ey'd monster which doth mockThe meat it feeds on: that cuckold lives in blissWho, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'erWho dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!

OTHELLO

O misery!

IAGO

Poor and content is rich, and rich enough;But riches fineless is as poor as winterTo him that ever fears he shall be poor; —Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defendFrom jealousy!

OTHELLO

                         Why, why is this?Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy,To follow still the changes of the moonWith fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubtIs once to be resolv'd: exchange me for a goatWhen I shall turn the business of my soulTo such exsufflicate and blown surmises,Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous,To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well;Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:Nor from mine own weak merits will I drawThe smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;For she had eyes and chose me. No, Iago;I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;And on the proof, there is no more but this, —Away at once with love or jealousy!

IAGO

I am glad of it; for now I shall have reasonTo show the love and duty that I bear youWith franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,Receive it from me: – I speak not yet of proof.Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure:I would not have your free and noble nature,Out of self-bounty, be abus'd; look to't.I know our country disposition well;In Venice they do let heaven see the pranksThey dare not show their husbands; their best conscienceIs not to leave undone, but keep unknown.

OTHELLO

Dost thou say so?

IAGO

She did deceive her father, marrying you;And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks,She loved them most.

OTHELLO

                                    And so she did.

IAGO

                                                               Why, go to then;She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,To seal her father's eyes up close as oak, —He thought 'twas witchcraft, – but I am much to blame;I humbly do beseech you of your pardonFor too much loving you.

OTHELLO

                                          I am bound to thee for ever.

IAGO

I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.

OTHELLO

Not a jot, not a jot.

IAGO

                               Trust me, I fear it has.I hope you will consider what is spokeComes from my love; but I do see you're mov'd: —I am to pray you not to strain my speechTo grosser issues nor to larger reachThan to suspicion.

OTHELLO

I will not.

IAGO

                Should you do so, my lord,My speech should fall into such vile successWhich my thoughts aim'd not. Cassio's my worthy friend: —My lord, I see you're mov'd.

OTHELLO

                                              No, not much mov'd.I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

IAGO

Long live she so! and long live you to think so!

OTHELLO

And yet, how nature erring from itself, —

IAGO

Ay, there's the point: – as, – to be bold with you, —Not to affect many proposed matches,Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,Whereto we see in all things nature tends, —Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural: —But pardon me: I do not in positionDistinctly speak of her; though I may fear,Her will, recoiling to her better judgement,May fall to match you with her country forms,And happily repent.

OTHELLO

                                 Farewell, farewell:If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago.

IAGO

[Going.]  My lord, I take my leave.

OTHELLO

Why did I marry? – This honest creature doubtlessSees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

IAGO

[Returning.]  My lord, I would I might entreat your honourTo scan this thing no further; leave it to time:Though it be fit that Cassio have his place, —For sure he fills it up with great ability, —Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,You shall by that perceive him and his means:Note if your lady strain his entertainmentWith any strong or vehement importunity;Much will be seen in that. In the meantime,Let me be thought too busy in my fears, —As worthy cause I have to fear I am, —And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.

OTHELLO

Fear not my government.

IAGO

I once more take my leave.

[Exit.]

OTHELLO.

This fellow's of exceeding honesty,And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,I'd whistle her off, and let her down the windTo prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black,And have not those soft parts of conversationThat chamberers have; or for I am declin'dInto the vale of years, – yet that's not much, —She's gone; I am abus'd, and my reliefMust be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,That we can call these delicate creatures ours,And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,And live upon the vapor of a dungeon,Than keep a corner in the thing I loveFor others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones:Prerogativ'd are they less than the base;'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:Even then this forkèd plague is fated to usWhen we do quicken. Desdemona comes:If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! —I'll not believe't.

[Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia.]

DESDEMONA

                           How now, my dear Othello!Your dinner, and the generous islandersBy you invited, do attend your presence.

OTHELLO

I am to blame.

DESDEMONA

                        Why do you speak so faintly?Are you not well?

OTHELLO

I have a pain upon my forehead here.

DESDEMONA

Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again;Let me but bind it hard, within this hourIt will be well.

OTHELLO

                        Your napkin is too little;

[He puts the handkerchief from him, and she drops it.]

Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.

DESDEMONA

I am very sorry that you are not well.

[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.]

EMILIA

I am glad I have found this napkin;This was her first remembrance from the Moor.My wayward husband hath a hundred timesWoo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token, —For he conjur'd her she should ever keep it, —That she reserves it evermore about herTo kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,And give't Iago:What he will do with it heaven knows, not I;I nothing but to please his fantasy.

[Re-enter Iago.]

IAGO

How now! what do you here alone?

EMILIA

Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.

IAGO

A thing for me! – it is a common thing.

EMILIA

Ha!

IAGO

To have a foolish wife.

EMILIA

O, is that all? What will you give me nowFor that same handkerchief?

IAGO

                                              What handkerchief?

EMILIA

What handkerchief!Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;That which so often you did bid me steal.

IAGO

Hast stol'n it from her?

EMILIA

No, faith; she let it drop by negligence,And, to the advantage, I being here, took't up.Look, here it is.

IAGO

                          A good wench; give it me.

EMILIA

What will you do with't, that you have been so earnestTo have me filch it?

IAGO

[Snatching it.]  Why, what's that to you?

EMILIA

If it be not for some purpose of import,Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run madWhen she shall lack it.

IAGO

Be not acknown on't; I have use for it.Go, leave me.

[Exit Emilia.]

I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,And let him find it. Trifles light as airAre to the jealous confirmations strongAs proofs of holy writ: this may do something.The Moor already changes with my poison:Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons,Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,But, with a little act upon the blood,Burn like the mines of sulphur. – I did say so: —Look, where he comes!Not poppy, nor mandragora,Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleepWhich thou ow'dst yesterday.

[Re-enter Othello.]

OTHELLO

                                                Ha! ha! false to me?

IAGO

Why, how now, general! no more of that.

OTHELLO

Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack: —I swear 'tis better to be much abus'dThan but to know't a little.

IAGO

                                           How now, my lord!

OTHELLO

What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:I slept the next night well, was free and merry;I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,Let him not know't and he's not robb'd at all.

IAGO

I am sorry to hear this.

OTHELLO

I had been happy if the general camp,Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,So I had nothing known. O, now, for everFarewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!Farewell the plumèd troop and the big warsThat make ambition virtue! O, farewell,Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,The royal banner, and all quality,Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throatsThe immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit,Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

IAGO

Is't possible, my lord? —

OTHELLO

Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore; —[Taking him by the throat.]  Be sure of it. Give me the ocular proof;Or, by the worth of man's eternal soul,Thou hadst been better have been born a dogThan answer my wak'd wrath!

IAGO

                                                 Is't come to this?

OTHELLO

Make me to see't; or at the least so prove it,That the probation bear no hinge nor loopTo hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!

IAGO

My noble lord, —

OTHELLO

If thou dost slander her and torture me,Never pray more; abandon all remorse;On horror's head horrors accumulate;Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd;For nothing canst thou to damnation addGreater than that.

IAGO

                            O grace! O heaven defend me!Are you a man? have you a soul or sense? —God be wi' you; take mine office. – O wretched fool,That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice! —O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,To be direct and honest is not safe. —I thank you for this profit; and from henceI'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offense.

OTHELLO

Nay, stay: – thou shouldst be honest.

IAGO

I should be wise; for honesty's a fool,And loses that it works for.

OTHELLO

                                             By the world,I think my wife be honest, and think she is not;I think that thou art just, and think thou art not:I'll have some proof: her name, that was as freshAs Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and blackAs mine own face. – If there be cords or knives,Poison or fire, or suffocating streams,I'll not endure 't. – Would I were satisfied!

IAGO

I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:I do repent me that I put it to you.You would be satisfied?

OTHELLO

                                       Would! nay, I will.

IAGO

And may: but how? how satisfied, my lord?Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on, —Behold her tupp'd?

OTHELLO

                               Death and damnation! O!

IAGO

It were a tedious difficulty, I think,To bring them to that prospect: damn them then,If ever mortal eyes do see them bolsterMore than their own! What then? how then?What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?It is impossible you should see thisWere they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as grossAs ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,If imputation and strong circumstances, —Which lead directly to the door of truth, —Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.

OTHELLO

Give me a living reason she's disloyal.

IAGO

I do not like the office;But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far, —Prick'd to it 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";And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,Cry, "O sweet creature!" and then kiss me hard,As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots,That grew upon my lips: then laid his legOver my thigh, and sigh'd and kiss'd; and thenCried, "Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!"

OTHELLO

O monstrous! monstrous!

IAGO

                                          Nay, this was but his dream.

OTHELLO

But this denoted a foregone conclusion:'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.

IAGO

And this may help to thicken other proofsThat do demónstrate thinly.

OTHELLO

                                            I'll tear her all to pieces.

IAGO

Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done;She may be honest yet. Tell me but this, —Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchiefSpotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?

OTHELLO

I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.

IAGO

I know not that: but such a handkerchief, —I am sure it was your wife's, – did I todaySee Cassio wipe his beard with.

OTHELLO

                                                   If it be that, —

IAGO

If it be that, or any that was hers,It speaks against her with the other proofs.

OTHELLO

O, that the slave had forty thousand lives, —One is too poor, too weak for my revenge!Now do I see 'tis true. – Look here, Iago;All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven:'Tis gone. —Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow hell!Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throneTo tyrannous hate! swell, bosom, with thy fraught,For 'tis of aspics' tongues!

IAGO

                                          Yet be content.

OTHELLO

O, blood, Iago, blood!

IAGO

Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change.

OTHELLO

Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea,Whose icy current and compulsive courseNe'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due onTo 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 revengeSwallow them up. – Now, by yond marble heaven,In the due reverence of a sacred vow  [Kneels.]I here engage my words.

IAGO

                                         Do not rise yet. –   [Kneels.]Witness, you ever-burning lights above,You elements that clip us round about, —Witness that here Iago doth give upThe execution of his wit, hands, heart,To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command,And to obey shall be in me remorse,What bloody business ever.  [They rise.]

OTHELLO

                                             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 sayThat Cassio's not alive.

IAGO

My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:But let her live.

OTHELLO

Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!Come, go with me apart; I will withdrawTo furnish me with some swift means of deathFor the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.

IAGO

I am your own for ever.[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. Cyprus. Before the Castle

[Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown.]

DESDEMONA

Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?

CLOWN

I dare not say he lies anywhere.

DESDEMONA

Why, man?

CLOWN

He's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies is stabbing.

DESDEMONA

Go to: where lodges he?

CLOWN

To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie.

DESDEMONA

Can anything be made of this?

CLOWN

I know not where he lodges; and for me to devise a lodging, and say he lies here or he lies there were to lie in mine own throat.

DESDEMONA

Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?

CLOWN

I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions and by them answer.

DESDEMONA

Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well.

CLOWN

To do this is within the compass of man's wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing it.

[Exit.]

DESDEMONA

Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?

EMILIA

I know not, madam.

DESDEMONA

Believe me, I had rather have lost my purseFull of crusadoes: and, but my noble MoorIs true of mind and made of no such basenessAs jealous creatures are, it were enoughTo put him to ill thinking.

EMILIA

                                          Is he not jealous?

DESDEMONA

Who, he? I think the sun where he was bornDrew all such humours from him.

EMILIA

                                                       Look, where he comes.

DESDEMONA

I will not leave him now till CassioBe call'd to him.

[Enter Othello.]

                           How is't with you, my lord?

OTHELLO

Well, my good lady. – [Aside.]  O, hardness to dissemble! —How do you, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA

                                           Well, my good lord.

OTHELLO

Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.

DESDEMONA

It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.

OTHELLO

This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart: —Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requiresA sequester from liberty, fasting, and prayer,Much castigation, exercise devout;For here's a young and sweating devil hereThat commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,A frank one.

DESDEMONA

                      You may, indeed, say so;For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

OTHELLO

A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

DESDEMONA

I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.

OTHELLO

What promise, chuck?

DESDEMONA

I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.

OTHELLO

I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;Lend me thy handkerchief.

DESDEMONA

Here, my lord.

OTHELLO

That which I gave you.

DESDEMONA

I have it not about me.

OTHELLO

Not?

DESDEMONA

No, faith, my lord.

OTHELLO

That is a fault. That handkerchiefDid an Egyptian to my mother give;She was a charmer, and could almost readThe thoughts of people: she told her, while she kept it,'Twould make her amiable and subdue my fatherEntirely to her love; but if she lost itOr made a gift of it, my father's eyeShould hold her loathed, and his spirits should huntAfter new fancies: she, dying, gave it me;And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,To give it her. I did so: and take heed on't;Make it a darling like your precious eye;To lose't or give't away were such perditionAs nothing else could match.

DESDEMONA