Complete Plays, The (119 page)

Iago

She gives it out that you shall marry hey:
Do you intend it?

Cassio

Ha, ha, ha!

Othello

Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?

Cassio

I marry her! what? a customer! Prithee, bear some charity to my wit: do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha!

Othello

So, so, so, so: they laugh that win.

Iago

’Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.

Cassio

Prithee, say true.

Iago

I am a very villain else.

Othello

Have you scored me? Well.

Cassio

This is the monkey’s own giving out: she is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise.

Othello

Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.

Cassio

She was here even now; she haunts me in every place. I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with certain Venetians; and thither comes the bauble, and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck —

Othello

Crying ‘O dear Cassio!’ as it were: his gesture imports it.

Cassio

So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales, and pulls me: ha, ha, ha!

Othello

Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to.

Cassio

Well, I must leave her company.

Iago

Before me! look, where she comes.

Cassio

’Tis such another fitchew! marry a perfumed one.

Enter Bianca

What do you mean by this haunting of me?

Bianca

Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the work?— A likely piece of work, that you should find it in your chamber, and not know who left it there! This is some minx’s token, and I must take out the work? There; give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever you had it, I’ll take out no work on’t.

Cassio

How now, my sweet Bianca! how now! how now!

Othello

By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!

Bianca

An you’ll come to supper to-night, you may; an you will not, come when you are next prepared for.

Exit

Iago

After her, after her.

Cassio

’Faith, I must; she’ll rail in the street else.

Iago

Will you sup there?

Cassio

’Faith, I intend so.

Iago

Well, I may chance to see you; for I would very fain speak with you.

Cassio

Prithee, come; will you?

Iago

Go to; say no more.

Exit Cassio

Othello

[Advancing]
 
How shall I murder him, Iago?

Iago

Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?

Othello

O Iago!

Iago

And did you see the handkerchief?

Othello

Was that mine?

Iago

Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he hath given it his whore.

Othello

I would have him nine years a-killing.
A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman!

Iago

Nay, you must forget that.

Othello

Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night; for she shall not live: no, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by an emperor’s side and command him tasks.

Iago

Nay, that’s not your way.

Othello

Hang her! I do but say what she is: so delicate with her needle: an admirable musician: O! she will sing the savageness out of a bear: of so high and plenteous wit and invention:—

Iago

She’s the worse for all this.

Othello

O, a thousand thousand times: and then, of so gentle a condition!

Iago

Ay, too gentle.

Othello

Nay, that’s certain: but yet the pity of it, Iago!
O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!

Iago

If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes near nobody.

Othello

I will chop her into messes: cuckold me!

Iago

O, ’tis foul in her.

Othello

With mine officer!

Iago

That’s fouler.

Othello

Get me some poison, Iago; this night: I’ll not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again: this night, Iago.

Iago

Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.

Othello

Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very good.

Iago

And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you shall hear more by midnight.

Othello

Excellent good.

A trumpet within

What trumpet is that same?

Iago

Something from Venice, sure. ’Tis Lodovico
Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him.

Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants

Lodovico

Save you, worthy general!

Othello

With all my heart, sir.

Lodovico

The duke and senators of Venice greet you.

Gives him a letter

Othello

I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.

Opens the letter, and reads

Desdemona

And what’s the news, good cousin Lodovico?

Iago

I am very glad to see you, signior
Welcome to Cyprus.

Lodovico

I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?

Iago

Lives, sir.

Desdemona

Cousin, there’s fall’n between him and my lord
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.

Othello

Are you sure of that?

Desdemona

My lord?

Othello

[Reads]
 
‘This fail you not to do, as you will —’

Lodovico

He did not call; he’s busy in the paper.
Is there division ’twixt my lord and Cassio?

Desdemona

A most unhappy one: I would do much
To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

Othello

Fire and brimstone!

Desdemona

My lord?

Othello

 
Are you wise?

Desdemona

What, is he angry?

Lodovico

 
May be the letter moved him;
For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.

Desdemona

Trust me, I am glad on’t.

Othello

Indeed!

Desdemona

My lord?

Othello

I am glad to see you mad.

Desdemona

Why, sweet Othello,—

Othello

[Striking her]
 
Devil!

Desdemona

I have not deserved this.

Lodovico

My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw’t: ’tis very much:
Make her amends; she weeps.

Othello

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!

Desdemona

I will not stay to offend you.

Going

Lodovico

Truly, an obedient lady:
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

Othello

Mistress!

Desdemona

 
My lord?

Othello

What would you with her, sir?

Lodovico

Who, I, my lord?

Othello

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!

Exit Desdemona

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

S
CENE
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!