OTHELLO O, monstrous, monstrous!
IAGO Nay, this was but his dream.
OTHELLO
But this denoted a foregone conclusion.
IAGO
’Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream,
And this may help to thicken other proofs
That do demonstrate thinly.
OTHELLO I’ll tear her all to pieces.
IAGO
Nay, yet 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?
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 today
See 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 the hollow hell.
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy freight,
For ’tis of aspics’ tongues.
IAGO Yet be content.
OTHELLO
O, blood, blood, blood!
IAGO Patience, I say. Your mind may change.
OTHELLO
Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne‘er knows 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 yon marble heaven,
In the due reverence of a sacred vow
I here engage my words.
IAGO Do not rise yet.
Witness you ever-burning lights above,
You elements that clip us round about,
Witness that here Iago 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 business ever.
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 say
That 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, damn her!
Come, go with me apart. I will withdraw
To furnish me with some swift means of death
For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.
IAGO I am your own for ever.
Exeunt
3.4
Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and the 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 me to say a soldier lies, ’tis 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 enquire 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 the handkerchief, Emilia?
EMILIA I know not, madam.
DESDEMONA
Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
Full of crusadoes, and but my noble Moor
Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness
As jealous creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill thinking.
EMILIA Is he not jealous?
DESDEMONA
Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
Drew all such humours from him.
EMILIA Look where he comes.
DESDEMONA
I will not leave him now till Cassio
Be called to him. 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 hath felt no age, nor known no sorrow.
OTHELLO
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 here’s a young and sweating devil here
That 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 (
offering a handkerchief
) 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’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 loathèd, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me,
And bid me, when my fate would have me wived,
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 perdition
As nothing else could match.
DESDEMONA Is’t possible?
OTHELLO
’Tis true. There’s magic in the web of it.
A sibyl that had numbered in the world
The sun to course two hundred compasses
In her prophetic fury sewed the work.
The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk,
And it was dyed in mummy, which the skilful
Conserved of maidens’ hearts.
DESDEMONA I’faith, is’t true?
OTHELLO
Most veritable. Therefore look to’t well.
DESDEMONA
Then would to God that I had never seen it!
OTHELLO Ha, wherefore?
DESDEMONA
Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
OTHELLO
Is’t lost? Is’t gone? Speak, is’t out o’th’ way?
DESDEMONA Heaven bless us!
OTHELLO Say you?
DESDEMONA
It is not lost, but what an if it were?
OTHELLO HOW?
DESDEMONA
I say it is not lost.
OTHELLO Fetch’t, let me see’t.
DESDEMONA
Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.
This is a trick to put me from my suit.
Pray you let Cassio be received again.
OTHELLO
Fetch me the handkerchief. My mind misgives.
DESDEMONA
Come, come, you’ll never meet a more sufficient man.
OTHELLO
The handkerchief.
DESDEMONA I pray, talk me of Cassio.
OTHELLO
The handkerchief.
DESDEMONA A man that all his time
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,
Shared dangers with you—
OTHELLO The handkerchief.
DESDEMONA I’faith, you are to blame.
OTHELLO ’Swounds! Exit
EMILIA
Is not this man jealous?
DESDEMONA I ne’er saw this before.
Sure there’s some wonder in this handkerchief.
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
EMILIA
’Tis not a year or two shows us a man.
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food.
They eat us hungrily, and when they are full,
They belch us.
Look you, Cassio and my husband.
IAGO (to Cassio)
There is no other way. ‘Tis she must do’t,
And lo, the happiness! Go and importune her.
DESDEMONA
How now, good Cassio? What’s the news with you?
CASSIO
Madam, my former suit. I do beseech you
That by your virtuous means I may again
Exist and be a member of his love
Whom I, with all the office of my heart,
Entirely honour. I would not be delayed.
If my offence be of such mortal kind
That nor my service past, nor present sorrows,
Nor purposed merit in futurity
Can ransom me into his love again,
But to know so must be my benefit.
So shall I clothe me in a forced content,
And shut myself up in some other course
To fortune’s alms.
DESDEMONA Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio!
My advocation is not now in tune.
My lord is not my lord, nor should I know him
Were he in favour as in humour altered.
So help me every spirit sanctified
As I have spoken for you all my best,
And stood within the blank of his displeasure
For my free speech! You must a while be patient.
What I can do I will, and more I will
Than for myself I dare. Let that suffice you.
IAGO
Is my lord angry?
EMILIA He went hence but now,
And certainly in strange unquietness.
IAGO
Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon
When it hath blown his ranks into the air,
And, like the devil, from his very arm
Puffed his own brother; and is he angry?
Something of moment then. I will go meet him.
There’s matter in’t indeed, if he be angry.
DESDEMONA
I prithee do so.
Something sure of state,
Either from Venice or some unhatched practice
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases
Men’s natures wrangle with inferior things,
Though great ones are their object. ’Tis even so;
For let our finger ache and it indues
Our other, healthful members even to a sense
Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods,
Nor of them look for such observancy
As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia,
I was—unhandsome warrior as I am—
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;
But now I find I had suborned the witness,
And he’s indicted falsely.
EMILIA Pray heaven it be
State matters, as you think, and no conception
Nor no jealous toy concerning you.
DESDEMONA
Alas the day, I never gave him cause.
EMILIA
But jealous souls will not be answered so.
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they’re jealous. It is a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.