Chapter 172

Ia. I am glad of this: For now I shall haue reason To shew the Loue and Duty that I beare you With franker spirit. Therefore (as I am bound) Receiue it from me. I speake not yet of proofe: Looke to your wife, obserue her well with Cassio, Weare your eyes, thus: not Iealious, nor Secure: I would not haue your free, and Noble Nature, Out of selfe-Bounty, be abus'd: Looke too't: I know our Country disposition well: In Venice, they do let Heauen see the prankes They dare not shew their Husbands. Their best Conscience, Is not to leaue't vndone, but kept vnknowne

Oth. Dost thou say so? Iago. She did deceiue her Father, marrying you, And when she seem'd to shake, and feare your lookes, She lou'd them most

Oth. And so she did

Iago. Why go too then: Shee that so young could giue out such a Seeming To seele her Fathers eyes vp, close as Oake, He thought 'twas Witchcraft. But I am much too blame: I humbly do beseech you of your pardon For too much louing you

Oth. I am bound to thee for euer

Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your Spirits: Oth. Not a iot, not a iot

Iago. Trust me, I feare it has: I hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from your Loue. But I do see y'are moou'd: I am to pray you, not to straine my speech To grosser issues, nor to larger reach, Then to Suspition

Oth. I will not

Iago. Should you do so (my Lord) My speech should fall into such vilde successe, Which my Thoughts aym'd not. Cassio's my worthy Friend: My Lord, I see y'are mou'd

Oth. No, not much mou'd: I do not thinke but Desdemona's honest

Iago. Long liue she so; And long liue you to thinke so

Oth. And yet how Nature erring from it selfe

Iago. I, there's the point: As (to be bold with you) Not to affect many proposed Matches Of her owne Clime, Complexion, and Degree, Whereto we see in all things, Nature tends: Foh, one may smel in such, a will most ranke, Foule disproportions, Thoughts vnnaturall. But (pardon me) I do not in position Distinctly speake of her, though I may feare Her will, recoyling to her better iudgement, May fal to match you with her Country formes, And happily repent

Oth. Farewell, farewell: If more thou dost perceiue, let me know more: Set on thy wife to obserue. Leaue me Iago

Iago. My Lord, I take my leaue

Othel. Why did I marry? This honest Creature (doubtlesse) Sees, and knowes more, much more then he vnfolds

Iago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honor To scan this thing no farther: Leaue it to time, Although 'tis fit that Cassio haue his Place; For sure he filles it vp with great Ability; Yet if you please, to him off a-while: You shall by that perceiue him, and his meanes: Note if your Lady straine his Entertainment With any strong, or vehement importunitie, Much will be seene in that: In the meane time, Let me be thought too busie in my feares, (As worthy cause I haue to feare I am) And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor

Oth. Feare not my gouernment

Iago. I once more take my leaue. Enter.

Oth. This Fellow's of exceeding honesty, And knowes all Quantities with a learn'd Spirit Of humane dealings. If I do proue her Haggard, Though that her Iesses were my deere heart-strings, I'ld whistle her off, and let her downe the winde To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am blacke, And haue not those soft parts of Conuersation That Chamberers haue: Or for I am declin'd Into the vale of yeares (yet that's not much) Shee's gone. I am abus'd, and my releefe Must be to loath her. Oh Curse of Marriage! That we can call these delicate Creatures ours, And not their Appetites? I had rather be a Toad, And liue vpon the vapour of a Dungeon, Then keepe a corner in the thing I loue For others vses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones, Prerogatiu'd are they lesse then the Base, 'Tis destiny vnshunnable, like death: Euen then, this forked plague is Fated to vs, When we do quicken. Looke where she comes: Enter Desdemona and aemilia.

If she be false, Heauen mock'd it selfe: Ile not beleeue't

Des. How now, my deere Othello? Your dinner, and the generous Islanders By you inuited, do attend your presence

Oth. I am too blame

Des. Why do you speake so faintly? Are you not well? Oth. I haue a paine vpon my Forehead, heere

Des. Why that's with watching, 'twill away againe. Let me but binde it hard, within this houre It will be well

Oth. Your Napkin is too little: Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you. Enter.

Des. I am very sorry that you are not well. Aemil. I am glad I haue found this Napkin: This was her first remembrance from the Moore, My wayward Husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to steale it. But she so loues the Token, (For he coniur'd her, she should euer keepe it) That she reserues it euermore about her, To kisse, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out, And giu't Iago: what he will do with it Heauen knowes, not I: I nothing, but to please his Fantasie. Enter Iago.

Iago. How now? What do you heere alone? Aemil. Do not you chide: I haue a thing for you

Iago. You haue a thing for me? It is a common thing- Aemil. Hah? Iago. To haue a foolish wife. Aemil. Oh, is that all? What will you giue me now For that same Handkerchiefe

Iago. What Handkerchiefe? Aemil. What Handkerchiefe? Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona, That which so often you did bid me steale

Iago. Hast stolne it from her? Aemil. No: but she let it drop by negligence, And to th' aduantage, I being heere, took't vp: Looke, heere 'tis

Iago. A good wench, giue it me. Aemil. What will you do with't, that you haue bene so earnest to haue me filch it? Iago. Why, what is that to you? Aemil. If it be not for some purpose of import, Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, shee'l run mad When she shall lacke it

Iago. Be not acknowne on't: I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me.

Exit aemil.

I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin, And let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre, Are to the iealious, confirmations strong, As proofes of holy Writ. This may do something. The Moore already changes with my poyson: Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons, Which at the first are scarse found to distaste: But with a little acte vpon the blood, Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so. Enter Othello.

Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora, Nor all the drowsie Syrrups of the world Shall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepe Which thou owd'st yesterday

Oth. Ha, ha, false to mee? Iago. Why how now Generall? No more of that

Oth. Auant, be gone: Thou hast set me on the Racke: I sweare 'tis better to be much abus'd, Then but to know't a little

Iago. How now, my Lord? Oth. What sense had I, in her stolne houres of Lust? I saw't not, thought it not: it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, fed well, was free, and merrie. I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lippes: He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolne, Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all

Iago. I am sorry to heare this? Oth. I had beene happy, if the generall Campe, Pyoners and all, had tasted her sweet Body, So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for euer Farewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content; Farewell the plumed Troopes, and the bigge Warres, That makes Ambition, Vertue! Oh farewell, Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trumpe, The Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife, The Royall Banner, and all Qualitie, Pride, Pompe, and Circumstance of glorious Warre: And O you mortall Engines, whose rude throates Th' immortall Ioues dread Clamours, counterfet, Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone

Iago. Is't possible my Lord? Oth. Villaine, be sure thou proue my Loue a Whore; Be sure of it: Giue me the Occular proofe, Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule, Thou had'st bin better haue bin borne a Dog Then answer my wak'd wrath

Iago. Is't come to this? Oth. Make me to see't: or (at the least) so proue it, That the probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope, To hang a doubt on: Or woe vpon thy life

Iago. My Noble Lord

Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me, Neuer pray more: Abandon all remorse On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate: Do deeds to make Heauen weepe, all Earth amaz'd; For nothing canst thou to damnation adde, Greater then that

Iago. O Grace! O Heauen forgiue me! Are you a Man? Haue you a Soule? or Sense? God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Foole, That lou'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice! Oh monstrous world! Take note, take note (O World) To be direct and honest, is not safe. I thanke you for this profit, and from hence Ile loue no Friend, sith Loue breeds such offence

Oth. Nay stay: thou should'st be honest

Iago. I should be wise; for Honestie's a Foole, And looses that it workes for

Oth. By the World, I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not: I thinke that thou art iust, and thinke thou art not: Ile haue some proofe. My name that was as fresh As Dians Visage, is now begrim'd and blacke As mine owne face. If there be Cords, or Kniues, Poyson, or Fire, or suffocating streames, Ile not indure it. Would I were satisfied

Iago. I see you are eaten vp with Passion: I do repent me, that I put it to you. You would be satisfied? Oth. Would? Nay, and I will

Iago. And may: but how? How satisfied, my Lord? Would you the super-vision grossely gape on? Behold her top'd? Oth. Death, and damnation. Oh! Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I thinke, To bring them to that Prospect: Damne them then, If euer mortall eyes do see them boulster More then their owne. What then? How then? What shall I say? Where's Satisfaction? It is impossible you should see this, Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeyes, As salt as Wolues in pride, and Fooles as grosse As Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I say, If imputation, and strong circumstances, Which leade directly to the doore of Truth, Will giue you satisfaction, you might haue't

Oth. Giue me a liuing reason she's disloyall

Iago. I do not like the Office. But sith I am entred in this cause so farre (Prick'd too't by foolish Honesty, and Loue) I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately, And being troubled with a raging tooth, I could not sleepe. There are a kinde of men, So loose of Soule, that in their sleepes will mutter Their Affayres: one of this kinde is Cassio: In sleepe I heard him say, sweet Desdemona, Let vs be wary, let vs hide our Loues, And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand: Cry, oh sweet Creature: then kisse me hard, As if he pluckt vp kisses by the rootes, That grew vpon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh, And sigh, and kisse, and then cry cursed Fate, That gaue thee to the Moore

Oth. O monstrous! monstrous! Iago. Nay, this was but his Dreame

Oth. But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion, 'Tis a shrew'd doubt, though it be but a Dreame

Iago. And this may helpe to thicken other proofes, That do demonstrate thinly

Oth. Ile teare her all to peeces

Iago. Nay yet be wise; yet we see nothing done, She may be honest yet: Tell me but this, Haue you not sometimes seene a Handkerchiefe Spotted with Strawberries, in your wiues hand? Oth. I gaue her such a one: 'twas my first gift

Iago. I know not that: but such a Handkerchiefe (I am sure it was your wiues) did I to day See Cassio wipe his Beard with

Oth. If it be that

Iago. If it be that, or any, it was here. It speakes against her with the other proofes

Othel. O that the Slaue had forty thousand liues: One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Looke heere Iago, All my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone. Arise blacke vengeance, from the hollow hell, Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and hearted Throne To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosome with thy fraught, For 'tis of Aspickes tongues

Iago. Yet be content

Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood

Iago. Patience I say: your minde may change

Oth. Neuer Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea, Whose Icie Current, and compulsiue course, Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due on To the Proponticke, and the Hellespont: Euen so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace Shall neu'r looke backe, neu'r ebbe to humble Loue, Till that a capeable, and wide Reuenge Swallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen, In the due reuerence of a Sacred vow, I heere engage my words

Iago. Do not rise yet: Witnesse you euer-burning Lights aboue, You Elements, that clip vs round about, Witnesse that heere Iago doth giue vp The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody businesse euer

Oth. I greet thy loue, Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will vpon the instant put thee too't. Within these three dayes let me heare thee say, That Cassio's not aliue

Iago. My Friend is dead: 'Tis done at your Request. But let her liue

Oth. Damne her lewde Minx: O damne her, damne her. Come go with me a-part, I will withdraw To furnish me with some swift meanes of death For the faire Diuell. Now art thou my Lieutenant

Iago. I am your owne for euer.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Desdemona, aemilia, and Clown.

Des. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lyes? Clow. I dare not say he lies any where

Des. Why man? Clo. He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Souldier lyes, 'tis stabbing

Des. Go too: where lodges he? Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you where I lye

Des. Can any thing be made of this? Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuise a lodging, and say he lies heere, or he lies there, were to lye in mine owne throat

Des. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report? Clo. I will Catechize the world for him, that is, make Questions, and by them answer

Des. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will be well

Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.

Exit Clo.

Des. Where should I loose the Handkerchiefe, aemilia? Aemil. I know not Madam

Des. Beleeue me, I had rather haue lost my purse Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore Is true of minde, and made of no such basenesse, As iealious Creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill-thinking. Aemil. Is he not iealious? Des. Who, he? I thinke the Sun where he was borne, Drew all such humors from him. Aemil. Looke where he comes. Enter Othello.

Des. I will not leaue him now, till Cassio be Call'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord? Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to dissemble! How do you, Desdemona? Des. Well, my good Lord

Oth. Giue me your hand. This hand is moist, my Lady

Des. It hath felt no age, nor knowne no sorrow

Oth. This argues fruitfulnesse, and liberall heart: Hot, hot, and moyst. This hand of yours requires A sequester from Liberty: Fasting, and Prayer, Much Castigation, Exercise deuout, For heere's a yong, and sweating Diuell heere That commonly rebels: 'Tis a good hand, A franke one

Des. You may (indeed) say so: For 'twas that hand that gaue away my heart

Oth. A liberall hand. The hearts of old, gaue hands: But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts

Des. I cannot speake of this: Come, now your promise

Oth. What promise, Chucke? Des. I haue sent to bid Cassio come speake with you

Oth. I haue a salt and sorry Rhewme offends me: Lend me thy Handkerchiefe

Des. Heere my Lord

Oth. That which I gaue you

Des. I haue it not about me

Oth. Not? Des. No indeed, my Lord

Oth. That's a fault: That Handkerchiefe Did an aegyptian to my Mother giue: She was a Charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, 'T would make her Amiable, and subdue my Father Intirely to her loue: But if she lost it, Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eye Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt After new Fancies. She dying, gaue it me, And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd) To giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't, Make it a Darling, like your precious eye: To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition, As nothing else could match

Des. Is't possible? Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it: A Sybill that had numbred in the world The Sun to course, two hundred compasses, In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke: The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke, And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull Conseru'd of Maidens hearts

Des. Indeed? Is't true? Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well

Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't? Oth. Ha? wherefore? Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash? Oth. Is't lost? Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way? Des. Blesse vs

Oth. Say you? Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were? Oth. How? Des. I say it is not lost

Oth. Fetcht, let me see't

Des. Why so I can: but I will not now: This is a tricke to put me from my suite, Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe

Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe, My minde mis-giues

Des. Come, come: you'l neuer meete a more sufficient man

Oth. The Handkerchiefe

Des. A man that all his time Hath founded his good Fortunes on your loue; Shar'd dangers with you

Oth. The Handkerchiefe

Des. Insooth, you are too blame

Oth. Away.

Exit Othello.

Aemil. Is not this man iealious? Des. I neu'r saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe, I am most vnhappy in the losse of it. Aemil. 'Tis not a yeare or two shewes vs a man: They are all but Stomackes, and we all but Food, They eate vs hungerly, and when they are full They belch vs. Enter Iago, and Cassio.

Looke you, Cassio and my Husband

Iago. There is no other way: 'tis she must doo't: And loe the happinesse: go, and importune her

Des. How now (good Cassio) what's the newes with you? Cassio. Madam, my former suite. I do beseech you, That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe Exist, and be a member of his loue, Whom I, with all the Office of my heart Intirely honour, I would not be delayd. If my offence, be of such mortall kinde, That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes, Nor purpos'd merit in futurity, Can ransome me into his loue againe, But to know so, must be my benefit: So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content, And shut my selfe vp in some other course To Fortunes Almes

Des. Alas (thrice-gentle Cassio) My Aduocation is not now in Tune; My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him, Were he in Fauour, as in Humour alter'd. So helpe me euery spirit sanctified, As I haue spoken for you all my best, And stood within the blanke of his displeasure For my free speech. You must awhile be patient: What I can do, I will: and more I will Then for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you

Iago. Is my Lord angry? Aemil. He went hence but now: And certainly in strange vnquietnesse

Iago. Can he be angry? I haue seen the Cannon When it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre, And like the Diuell from his very Arme Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry? Something of moment then: I will go meet him, There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

Exit

Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State, Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practise Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him, Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases, Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things, Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so. For let our finger ake, and it endues Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense Of paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods, Nor of them looke for such obseruancie As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia, I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am) Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule: But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse, And he's Indited falsely. Aemil. Pray heauen it bee State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception, Nor no Iealious Toy, concerning you

Des. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him cause. Aemil. But Iealious soules will not be answer'd so; They are not euer iealious for the cause, But iealious, for they're iealious. It is a Monster Begot vpon it selfe, borne on it selfe

Des. Heauen keepe the Monster from Othello's mind. Aemil. Lady, Amen

Des. I will go seeke him. Cassio, walke heere about: If I doe finde him fit, Ile moue your suite, And seeke to effect it to my vttermost.

Exit

Cas. I humbly thanke your Ladyship. Enter Bianca.

Bian. 'Saue you (Friend Cassio.) Cassio. What make you from home? How is't with you, my most faire Bianca? Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house

Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Cassio. What? keepe a weeke away? Seuen dayes, and Nights? Eight score eight houres? And Louers absent howres More tedious then the Diall, eight score times? Oh weary reck'ning

Cassio. Pardon me, Bianca: I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest, But I shall in a more continuate time Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca Take me this worke out

Bianca. Oh Cassio, whence came this? This is some Token from a newer Friend, To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause: Is't come to this? Well, well

Cassio. Go too, woman: Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth, From whence you haue them. You are iealious now, That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance; No, in good troth Bianca

Bian. Why, who's is it? Cassio. I know not neither: I found it in my Chamber, I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded (As like enough it will) I would haue it coppied: Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time

Bian. Leaue you? Wherefore? Cassio. I do attend heere on the Generall, And thinke it no addition, nor my wish To haue him see me woman'd

Bian. Why, I pray you? Cassio. Not that I loue you not

Bian. But that you do not loue me. I pray you bring me on the way a little, And say, if I shall see you soone at night? Cassio. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you, For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone

Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd.

Exeunt. omnes.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Othello, and Iago.

Iago. Will you thinke so? Oth. Thinke so, Iago? Iago. What, to kisse in priuate? Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse? Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed, An houre, or more, not meaning any harme? Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme? It is hypocrisie against the Diuell: They that meane vertuously, and yet do so, The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen

Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip: But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe

Oth. What then? Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers, She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man

Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too: May she giue that? Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene, They haue it very oft, that haue it not. But for the Handkerchiefe

Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it: Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie, As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house: Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe

Iago . I: what of that? Othe. That's not so good now

Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong? Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad, Who hauing by their owne importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris, Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse But they must blab.) Oth. Hath he said any thing? Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd, No more then he'le vn-sweare

Oth. What hath he said? Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did

Othe. What? What? Iago. Lye

Oth. With her? Iago. With her? On her: what you will

Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her, when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome: Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse, and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd, and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish) Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe? O diuell.

Falls in a Traunce.