I am glad of this, for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With 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 eyes thus: not jealous, nor secure.
I would not have your free and noble nature
Out of self-bounty be abused. Look to’t.
I know our country disposition well.
In Venice they do let God see the pranks
They dare not show their husbands; their best
conscience
Is not to leave’t undone, but keep’t unknown.
OTHELLO Dost thou say so?
IAGO
She did deceive her father, marrying you,
And when she seemed 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 seel 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 pardon
For too much loving you.
OTHELLO I am bound to thee for ever.
IAGO
I see this hath a little dashed your spirits.
OTHELLO
Not a jot, not a jot.
IAGO I’faith, I fear it has.
I hope you will consider what is spoke
Comes from my love. But I do see you’re moved.
I am to pray you not to strain my speech
To grosser issues, nor to larger reach
Than to suspicion.
OTHELLO I will not.
IAGO Should you do so, my lord,
My speech should fall into such vile success
Which my thoughts aimed not. Cassio’s my worthy
friend.
My lord, I see you’re moved.
OTHELLO No, not much moved.
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 disproportions, thoughts unnatural!
But pardon me. I do not in position
Distinctly 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 doubtless
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
IAGO (
returning
)
My lord, I would I might entreat your honour
To scan this thing no farther. Leave it to time.
Although ’tis fit that Cassio have his place—
For sure he fills it up with great ability—
Yet, if you please to hold him off a while,
You shall by that perceive him and his means.
Note if your lady strain his entertainment
With any strong or vehement importunity.
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
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 heart-strings
I’d whistle her off and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply for I am black,
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have; or for I am declined
Into the vale of years—yet that’s not much—
She’s gone. I am abused, and my relief
Must 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 vapour of a dungeon
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others’ uses. Yet ‘tis the plague of great ones;
Prerogatived are they less than the base.
’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.
Even then this forked plague is fated to us
When we do quicken.
Enter Desdemona and Emilia
Look where she comes.
If she be false, O then heaven mocks itself!
I’ll not believe’t.
DESDEMONA How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By 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. ’will away again.
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.
OTHELLO Your napkin is too little.
He puts the napkin from him. It drops.
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 (
taking up the napkin
)
I am glad I have found this napkin.
This was her first remembrance from the Moor.
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Wooed me to steal it, but she so loves the token—
For he conjured her she should ever keep it—
That she reserves it evermore about her
To kiss and talk to. I’ll ha’ 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.
IAGO
How now, what do you here alone?
EMILIA
Do not you chide. I have a thing for you.
IAGO
You have 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 now
For 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 th‘advantage I, being here, took’t up.
Look, here ’tis.
IAGO A good wench! Give it me.
EMILIA
What will you do with it, that you have been so earnest
To have me filch it?
IAGO Why, what is that to you?
EMILIA
If it be not for some purpose of import,
Give’t me again. Poor lady, she’ll run mad
When 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 air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As 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 sleep
Which thou owedst yesterday.
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 abused
Than 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 harmed not me.
I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and
merry.
I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips.
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol’n,
Let him not know’t and he’s not robbed at all.
IAGO I am sorry to hear this.
OTHELLO
I had been happy if the general camp,
Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. O, now for ever
Farewell the tranquil mind, farewell content,
Farewell the plumèd troops and the big wars
That makes ambition virtue! O, farewell,
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th‘ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And O, you mortal engines whose rude throats
Th’immortal Jove’s dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone.
IAGO Is’t possible, my lord?
OTHELLO ⌈
taking Iago by the throat
⌉
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore.
Be sure of it. Give me the ocular proof,
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my waked 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 loop
To 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 amazed,
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.
IAGO O grace, O heaven forgive me!
Are you a man? Have you a soul or sense?
God buy you, take mine office. O wretched fool,
That lov’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 hence
I’ll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.
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. My name, that 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!
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, and I will.
IAGO
And may. But how, how satisfied, my lord?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on,
Behold her topped?
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 bolster
More than their own! What then, how then?
What shall I say? Where’s 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. But yet I say,
If imputation, and strong circumstances
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you satisfaction, you might ha’t.
OTHELLO
Give me a living reason she’s disloyal.
IAGO 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’,
And then, sir, would he grip and wring my hand,
Cry ‘O, sweet creature!’, then kiss me hard,
As if he plucked up kisses by the roots,
That grew upon my lips, lay his leg o‘er my thigh,
And sigh, and kiss, and then cry ‘Cursèd fate,
That gave thee to the Moor!’