The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

DESDEMONA. It is my wretched fortune.

IAGO. Beshrew him for’t!

How comes this trick upon him?

DESDEMONA. Nay, heaven doth know.

EMILIA. I will be hang’d, if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue,

Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devised this slander; I’ll be hang’d else.

IAGO. Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible.

DESDEMONA. If any such there be, heaven pardon him!

EMILIA. 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 abused by some most villainous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.

O heaven, that such companions thou’ldst unfold, And put in every honest hand a whip

To lash the rascals naked through the world Even from the east to the west!

IAGO. Speak within door.

EMILIA. O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was That turn’d your wit the seamy side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

IAGO. You are a fool; go to.

DESDEMONA. O good Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again?

Good friend, go to him, for by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: If e’er my will did trespass ‘gainst his love Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, Delighted them in any other form,

Or that I do not yet, and ever did,

And ever will, though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly, Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much, And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love. I cannot say “whore.”

It doth abhor me now I speak the word; To do the act that might the addition earn Not the world’s mass of vanity could make me.

IAGO. I pray you, be content; ‘tis but his humor: The business of the state does him offense, And he does chide with you.

DESDEMONA. If ‘twere no other—

IAGO. ‘Tis but so, I warrant. Trumpets within.

Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!

The messengers of Venice stay the meat.

Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.

Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.

Enter Roderigo.

How now, Roderigo!

RODERIGO. I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.

IAGO. What in the contrary?

RODERIGO. Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all conveniency than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure it; nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered.

IAGO. Will you hear me, Roderigo?

RODERIGO. Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and performances are no kin together.

IAGO. You charge me most unjustly.

RODERIGO. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a votarist. You have told me she hath received them and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance; but I find none.

IAGO. Well, go to, very well.

RODERIGO. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor ‘tis not very well. By this hand, I say ‘tis very scurvy, and begin to find myself fopped in it.

IAGO. Very well.

RODERIGO. I tell you ‘tis not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona. If she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of you.

IAGO. You have said now.

RODERIGO. Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing.

IAGO. Why, now I see there’s mettle in thee; and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo. Thou hast taken against me a most just exception; but yet, I protest, have dealt most directly in thy affair.

RODERIGO. It hath not appeared.

IAGO. I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgement. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valor, this night show it; if thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life.

RODERIGO. Well, what is it? Is it within reason and compass?

IAGO. Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello’s place.

RODERIGO. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice.

IAGO. O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some accident; wherein none can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio.

RODERIGO. How do you mean, removing of him?

IAGO. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello’s place; knocking out his brains.

RODERIGO. And that you would have me to do?

IAGO. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him. He knows not yet of his honorable fortune. If you will watch his going thence, which his will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, you may take him at your pleasure; I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me; I will show you such a necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high suppertime, and the night grows to waste. About it.

RODERIGO. I will hear further reason for this.

IAGO. And you shall be satisfied. Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Another room in the castle.

Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, and Attendants.

LODOVICO. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.

OTHELLO. O, pardon me; ‘twill do me good to walk.

LODOVICO. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.

DESDEMONA. Your honor is most welcome.

OTHELLO. Will you walk, sir?

O-Desdemona—

DESDEMONA. My lord?

OTHELLO. Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there; look it be done.

DESDEMONA. I will, my lord.

Exeunt Othello, Lodovico, and Attendants.

EMILIA. How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did.

DESDEMONA. He says he will return incontinent.

He hath commanded me to go to bed,

And bade me to dismiss you.

EMILIA. Dismiss me?

DESDEMONA. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu.

We must not now displease him.

EMILIA. I would you had never seen him!

DESDEMONA. So would not I. My love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns-Prithee, unpin me-have grace and favor in them.

EMILIA. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.

DESDEMONA. All’s one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!

If I do die before thee, prithee shroud me In one of those same sheets.

EMILIA. Come, come, you talk.

DESDEMONA. My mother had a maid call’d Barbary; She was in love, and he she loved proved mad And did forsake her. She had a song of “willow”; An old thing ‘twas, but it express’d her fortune, And she died singing it. That song tonight Will not go from my mind; I have much to do But to go hang my head all at one side And sing it like poor Barbary. Prithee, dispatch.

EMILIA. Shall I go fetch your nightgown?

DESDEMONA. No, unpin me here.

This Lodovico is a proper man.

EMILIA. A very handsome man.

DESDEMONA. He speaks well.

EMILIA. I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.

DESDEMONA. [Sings.]

“The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, Sing all a green willow;

Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow.

The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur’d her moans, Sing willow, willow, willow;

Her salt tears fell from her, and soften’d the stones-”

Lay be these-

[Sings.] “Sing willow, willow, willow-”

Prithee, hie thee; he’ll come anon-

[Sings.] “Sing all a green willow must be my garland.

Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve-”

Nay, that’s not next. Hark, who is’t that knocks?

EMILIA. It’s the wind.

DESDEMONA. [Sings.]

“I call’d my love false love; but what said he then?

Sing willow, willow, willow.

If I court moe women, you’ll couch with moe men-”

So get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch; Doth that bode weeping?

EMILIA. ‘Tis neither here nor there.

DESDEMONA. I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!

Dost thou in conscience think-tell me, Emilia-That there be women do abuse their husbands In such gross kind?

EMILIA. There be some such, no question.

DESDEMONA. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

EMILIA. Why, would not you?

DESDEMONA. No, by this heavenly light!

EMILIA. Nor I neither by this heavenly light; I might do’t as well i’ the dark.

DESDEMONA. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

EMILIA. The world’s a huge thing; it is a great price For a small vice.

DESDEMONA. In troth, I think thou wouldst not.

EMILIA. In troth, I think I should, and undo’t when I had done.

Marry, I would not do such a thing for a jointring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but, for the whole world-why, who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for’t.

DESDEMONA. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong For the whole world.

EMILIA. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i’ the world; and having the world for your labor, ‘tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right.

DESDEMONA. I do not think there is any such woman.

EMILIA. Yes, a dozen, and as many to the vantage as would store the world they played for.

But I do think it is their husbands’ faults If wives do fall; say that they slack their duties And pour our treasures into foreign laps, Or else break out in peevish jealousies, Throwing restraint upon us, or say they strike us, Or scant our former having in despite, Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them; they see and smell And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have. What is it that they do When they change us for others? Is it sport?

I think it is. And doth affection breed it?

I think it doth. Is’t frailty that thus errs?

It is so too. And have not we affections, Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?

Then let them use us well; else let them know, The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

DESDEMONA. Good night, good night. Heaven me such uses send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! Exeunt.

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