Des.

Oth. Devil!

Des.

I have not deserv'd this.

Why, sweet Othello,-
[Striking her.

Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw't: '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.
Lod. Truly, an obedient lady:-
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.
Oth. Mistress!

Lod. Who, I, my lord?

[Going.

What would you with her, sir?

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!
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 DES.

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.

[Exit.

Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain? Iago. He is 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!

Is it his use?

Lod.
Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new-create this fault?

Alas, alas!

Iago.

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.-CYPRUS. A Room in the Castle.

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?

Never, my lord.

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 hath 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 subtle whore, A closet-lock-and-key of villanous secrets:

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

Re-enter EMILIA with DESDEMONA.

Des. My lord, what is your will?

Oth.

Des. What is your pleasure?
Oth.

Look in my face.

Des.

Pray, chuck, come hither.

Let me see your eyes;

What horrible fancy's this?

Oth. 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, despatch.

[TO EMILIA

[Exit EMILIA.

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words,

But not the words.

Oth. Why, what art thou?

Des.

And loyal wife.

Oth.

Your wife, my lord; your true

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, Desdemona!-away! away! away!

Des. 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.

Oth.
Had it pleas'd 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
The fixed figure of the time, for scorn
To point his slow and moving 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!

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 ne'er 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!-0 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!

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.

Oth. Is't possible?

No, as I shall be sav'd.

Des. O, heaven forgive us!
Oth.
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello.-You, mistress,
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell!

I cry you mercy, then:

You, you, ay, you!

Re-enter EMILIA.

We have done our course; there's money for your pains: I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.

Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady? Des. Faith, half asleep.

[Exit.

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 answer have I none,

But what should go by water. Pr'ythee, to-night

VOL. VI.

2 c

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?

Re-enter EMILIA with IAGO.

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's the matter, lady?

Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her
As true hearts cannot bear.

Des. Am I that name, Iago?

Iago.
What name, fair lady?
Des. Such as she says 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 callat.
Iago. Why did he so?

Des. I do not know; I am sure I am none such.
Iago. Do not weep, do not weep:-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.

How comes this trick upon him?

Beshrew him for't!

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'll 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 villanous knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow :-
O heaven, that such companions thou'dst unfold,
And put in every honest hand a whip