Part 144

IAGO. You see this fellow that is gone before, He is a soldier fit to stand by Cæsar And give direction: and do but see his vice, ’Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as th’ other. ’Tis pity of him. I fear the trust Othello puts him in, On some odd time of his infirmity, Will shake this island.

MONTANO. But is he often thus?

IAGO. ’Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep: He’ll watch the horologe a double set If drink rock not his cradle.

MONTANO. It were well The general were put in mind of it. Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio, And looks not on his evils: is not this true?

Enter Roderigo.

IAGO. [_Aside to him._] How now, Roderigo? I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.

[_Exit Roderigo._]

MONTANO. And ’tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft infirmity: It were an honest action to say so To the Moor.

IAGO. Not I, for this fair island. I do love Cassio well and would do much To cure him of this evil. But, hark! What noise?

[_Cry within_: “Help! help!”]

Enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo.

CASSIO. Zounds, you rogue, you rascal!

MONTANO. What’s the matter, lieutenant?

CASSIO. A knave teach me my duty! I’ll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

RODERIGO. Beat me?

CASSIO. Dost thou prate, rogue?

[_Striking Roderigo._]

MONTANO. Nay, good lieutenant; I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

CASSIO. Let me go, sir, Or I’ll knock you o’er the mazard.

MONTANO. Come, come, you’re drunk.

CASSIO. Drunk?

[_They fight._]

IAGO. [_Aside to Roderigo._] Away, I say! Go out and cry a mutiny.

[_Exit Roderigo._]

Nay, good lieutenant, God’s will, gentlemen. Help, ho!—Lieutenant,—sir,—Montano,—sir:— Help, masters! Here’s a goodly watch indeed!

[_A bell rings._]

Who’s that which rings the bell?—Diablo, ho! The town will rise. God’s will, lieutenant, hold, You will be sham’d forever.

Enter Othello and Attendants.

OTHELLO. What is the matter here?

MONTANO. Zounds, I bleed still, I am hurt to the death.

OTHELLO. Hold, for your lives!

IAGO. Hold, ho! lieutenant,—sir,—Montano,—gentlemen,— Have you forgot all place of sense and duty? Hold! The general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!

OTHELLO. Why, how now, ho! From whence ariseth this? Are we turn’d Turks, and to ourselves do that Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl: He that stirs next to carve for his own rage Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isle From her propriety. What is the matter, masters? Honest Iago, that looks dead with grieving, Speak, who began this? On thy love, I charge thee.

IAGO. I do not know. Friends all but now, even now, In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom Devesting them for bed; and then, but now, As if some planet had unwitted men, Swords out, and tilting one at other’s breast, In opposition bloody. I cannot speak Any beginning to this peevish odds; And would in action glorious I had lost Those legs that brought me to a part of it!

OTHELLO. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?

CASSIO. I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.

OTHELLO. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil. The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths of wisest censure: what’s the matter, That you unlace your reputation thus, And spend your rich opinion for the name Of a night-brawler? Give me answer to it.

MONTANO. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger. Your officer, Iago, can inform you, While I spare speech, which something now offends me, Of all that I do know; nor know I aught By me that’s said or done amiss this night, Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin When violence assails us.

OTHELLO. Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule, And passion, having my best judgement collied, Assays to lead the way. Zounds, if I stir, Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know How this foul rout began, who set it on, And he that is approv’d in this offence, Though he had twinn’d with me, both at a birth, Shall lose me. What! in a town of war, Yet wild, the people’s hearts brimful of fear, To manage private and domestic quarrel, In night, and on the court and guard of safety? ’Tis monstrous. Iago, who began’t?

MONTANO. If partially affin’d, or leagu’d in office, Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier.

IAGO. Touch me not so near. I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio. Yet I persuade myself, to speak the truth Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general: Montano and myself being in speech, There comes a fellow crying out for help, And Cassio following him with determin’d sword, To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman Steps in to Cassio and entreats his pause. Myself the crying fellow did pursue, Lest by his clamour (as it so fell out) The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot, Outran my purpose: and I return’d the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, And Cassio high in oath, which till tonight I ne’er might say before. When I came back, (For this was brief) I found them close together, At blow and thrust, even as again they were When you yourself did part them. More of this matter cannot I report. But men are men; the best sometimes forget; Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, As men in rage strike those that wish them best, Yet surely Cassio, I believe, receiv’d From him that fled some strange indignity, Which patience could not pass.

OTHELLO. I know, Iago, Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee, But never more be officer of mine.

Enter Desdemona, attended.

Look, if my gentle love be not rais’d up! I’ll make thee an example.

DESDEMONA. What’s the matter?

OTHELLO. All’s well now, sweeting; come away to bed. Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon. Lead him off.

[_Montano is led off._]

Iago, look with care about the town, And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. Come, Desdemona: ’tis the soldiers’ life To have their balmy slumbers wak’d with strife.

[_Exeunt all but Iago and Cassio._]

IAGO. What, are you hurt, lieutenant?

CASSIO. Ay, past all surgery.

IAGO. Marry, Heaven forbid!

CASSIO. Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!

IAGO. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man, there are ways to recover the general again: you are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue to him again, and he’s yours.

CASSIO. I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow? O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!

IAGO. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you?

CASSIO. I know not.

IAGO. Is’t possible?

CASSIO. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! That we should with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

IAGO. Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered?

CASSIO. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath. One unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself.

IAGO. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen; but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

CASSIO. I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is unbless’d, and the ingredient is a devil.

IAGO. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used. Exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.

CASSIO. I have well approved it, sir.—I drunk!

IAGO. You, or any man living, may be drunk at a time, man. I’ll tell you what you shall do. Our general’s wife is now the general; I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces. Confess yourself freely to her. Importune her help to put you in your place again. She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter, and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.

CASSIO. You advise me well.

IAGO. I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.

CASSIO. I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me; I am desperate of my fortunes if they check me here.

IAGO. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant, I must to the watch.

CASSIO. Good night, honest Iago.

[_Exit._]

IAGO. And what’s he then, that says I play the villain? When this advice is free I give and honest, Probal to thinking, and indeed the course To win the Moor again? For ’tis most easy The inclining Desdemona to subdue In any honest suit. She’s fram’d as fruitful As the free elements. And then for her To win the Moor, were’t to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetter’d to her love That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. How am I then, a villain To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, Directly to his good? Divinity of hell! When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now: for whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune, And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, I’ll pour this pestilence into his ear, That she repeals him for her body’s lust; And by how much she strives to do him good, She shall undo her credit with the Moor. So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.

Enter Roderigo.

How now, Roderigo?

RODERIGO. I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is almost spent, I have been tonight exceedingly well cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains, and so, with no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.

IAGO. How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know’st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft, And wit depends on dilatory time. Does’t not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier’d Cassio; Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe. Content thyself awhile. By the mass, ’tis morning; Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. Retire thee; go where thou art billeted. Away, I say, thou shalt know more hereafter. Nay, get thee gone.

[_Exit Roderigo._]

Two things are to be done, My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress. I’ll set her on; Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, And bring him jump when he may Cassio find Soliciting his wife. Ay, that’s the way. Dull not device by coldness and delay.

[_Exit._]

ACT III

SCENE I. Cyprus. Before the Castle.

Enter Cassio and some Musicians.

CASSIO. Masters, play here, I will content your pains, Something that’s brief; and bid “Good morrow, general.”

[_Music._]

Enter Clown.

CLOWN. Why, masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i’ the nose thus?

FIRST MUSICIAN. How, sir, how?

CLOWN. Are these, I pray you, wind instruments?

FIRST MUSICIAN. Ay, marry, are they, sir.

CLOWN. O, thereby hangs a tail.

FIRST MUSICIAN. Whereby hangs a tale, sir?

CLOWN. Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that I know. But, masters, here’s money for you: and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love’s sake, to make no more noise with it.

FIRST MUSICIAN. Well, sir, we will not.

CLOWN. If you have any music that may not be heard, to’t again. But, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly care.

FIRST MUSICIAN. We have none such, sir.

CLOWN. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I’ll away. Go, vanish into air, away!

[_Exeunt Musicians._]

CASSIO. Dost thou hear, mine honest friend?

CLOWN. No, I hear not your honest friend. I hear you.

CASSIO. Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There’s a poor piece of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends the general’s wife be stirring, tell her there’s one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech. Wilt thou do this?

CLOWN. She is stirring, sir; if she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her.

CASSIO. Do, good my friend.

[_Exit Clown._]

Enter Iago.

In happy time, Iago.

IAGO. You have not been a-bed, then?

CASSIO. Why, no. The day had broke Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, To send in to your wife. My suit to her Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona Procure me some access.

IAGO. I’ll send her to you presently, And I’ll devise a mean to draw the Moor Out of the way, that your converse and business May be more free.

CASSIO. I humbly thank you for’t.

[_Exit Iago._]

I never knew A Florentine more kind and honest.

Enter Emilia.

EMILIA. Good morrow, good lieutenant; I am sorry For your displeasure, but all will sure be well. The general and his wife are talking of it, And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you And needs no other suitor but his likings To take the safest occasion by the front To bring you in again.

CASSIO. Yet, I beseech you, If you think fit, or that it may be done, Give me advantage of some brief discourse With Desdemona alone.

EMILIA. Pray you, come in. I will bestow you where you shall have time To speak your bosom freely.

CASSIO. I am much bound to you.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE II. Cyprus. A Room in the Castle.

Enter Othello, Iago and Gentlemen.

OTHELLO. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot, And by him do my duties to the senate. That done, I will be walking on the works, Repair there to me.

IAGO. Well, my good lord, I’ll do’t.

OTHELLO. This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see’t?

GENTLEMEN. We’ll wait upon your lordship.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE III. Cyprus. The Garden of the Castle.

Enter Desdemona, Cassio and Emilia.

DESDEMONA. Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf.

EMILIA. Good madam, do. I warrant it grieves my husband As if the cause were his.

DESDEMONA. O, that’s an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio, But I will have my lord and you again As friendly as you were.

CASSIO. Bounteous madam, Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, He’s never anything but your true servant.

DESDEMONA. I know’t. I thank you. You do love my lord. You have known him long; and be you well assur’d He shall in strangeness stand no farther off Than in a politic distance.

CASSIO. Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstance, That, I being absent, and my place supplied, My general will forget my love and service.

DESDEMONA. Do not doubt that. Before Emilia here I give thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I’ll perform it To the last article. My lord shall never rest, I’ll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience; His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; I’ll intermingle everything he does With Cassio’s suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio, For thy solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away.

Enter Othello and Iago.

EMILIA. Madam, here comes my lord.

CASSIO. Madam, I’ll take my leave.

DESDEMONA. Why, stay, and hear me speak.

CASSIO. Madam, not now. I am very ill at ease, Unfit for mine own purposes.

DESDEMONA. Well, do your discretion.

[_Exit Cassio._]

IAGO. Ha, I like not that.

OTHELLO. What dost thou say?

IAGO. Nothing, my lord; or if—I know not what.

OTHELLO. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?

IAGO. Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think it, That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing you coming.

OTHELLO. I do believe ’twas he.

DESDEMONA. How now, my lord? I have been talking with a suitor here, A man that languishes in your displeasure.

OTHELLO. Who is’t you mean?

DESDEMONA. Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, His present reconciliation take; For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgement in an honest face. I prithee call him back.

OTHELLO. Went he hence now?

DESDEMONA. Ay, sooth; so humbled That he hath left part of his grief with me To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.

OTHELLO. Not now, sweet Desdemon, some other time.

DESDEMONA. But shall’t be shortly?

OTHELLO. The sooner, sweet, for you.

DESDEMONA. Shall’t be tonight at supper?

OTHELLO. No, not tonight.

DESDEMONA. Tomorrow dinner then?

OTHELLO. I shall not dine at home; I meet the captains at the citadel.

DESDEMONA. Why then tomorrow night, or Tuesday morn, On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn. I prithee name the time, but let it not Exceed three days. In faith, he’s penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason, (Save that, they say, the wars must make examples Out of their best) is not almost a fault To incur a private check. When shall he come? Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul, What you would ask me, that I should deny, Or stand so mammering on. What? Michael Cassio, That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time, When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, Hath ta’en your part, to have so much to do To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much.

OTHELLO. Prithee no more. Let him come when he will; I will deny thee nothing.

DESDEMONA. Why, this is not a boon; ’Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit To your own person: nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise and difficult weight, And fearful to be granted.

OTHELLO. I will deny thee nothing. Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself.

DESDEMONA. Shall I deny you? No, farewell, my lord.

OTHELLO. Farewell, my Desdemona. I’ll come to thee straight.

DESDEMONA. Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you. Whate’er you be, I am obedient.

[_Exit with Emilia._]

OTHELLO. Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee! And when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

IAGO. My noble lord,—

OTHELLO. What dost thou say, Iago?

IAGO. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo’d my lady, Know of your love?

OTHELLO. He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask?

IAGO. But for a satisfaction of my thought. No further harm.

OTHELLO. Why of thy thought, Iago?

IAGO. I did not think he had been acquainted with her.

OTHELLO. O yes, and went between us very oft.

IAGO. Indeed?

OTHELLO. Indeed? Ay, indeed. Discern’st thou aught in that? Is he not honest?

IAGO. Honest, my lord?

OTHELLO. Honest? ay, honest.

IAGO. My lord, for aught I know.

OTHELLO. What dost thou think?

IAGO. Think, my lord?

OTHELLO. Think, my lord? By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something. I heard thee say even now, thou lik’st not that, When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like? And when I told thee he was of my counsel In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, “Indeed?” And didst contract and purse thy brow together, As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me, Show me thy thought.

IAGO. My lord, you know I love you.

OTHELLO. I think thou dost; And for I know thou’rt full of love and honesty And weigh’st thy words before thou giv’st them breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: For such things in a false disloyal knave Are tricks of custom; but in a man that’s just, They’re close dilations, working from the heart, That passion cannot rule.

IAGO. For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.

OTHELLO. I think so too.

IAGO. Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!

OTHELLO. Certain, men should be what they seem.

IAGO. Why then, I think Cassio’s an honest man.

OTHELLO. Nay, yet there’s more in this: I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.

IAGO. Good my lord, pardon me. Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false: As where’s that palace whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law-days, and in session sit With meditations lawful?

OTHELLO. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think’st him wrong’d and mak’st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.

IAGO. I do beseech you, Though I perchance am vicious in my guess, As, I confess, it is my nature’s plague To spy into abuses, and of my jealousy Shapes faults that are not,—that your wisdom From one that so imperfectly conceits, Would take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance. It were not for your quiet nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, To let you know my thoughts.

OTHELLO. What dost thou mean?

IAGO. Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls. Who steals my purse steals trash. ’Tis something, nothing; ’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands. But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.

OTHELLO. By heaven, I’ll know thy thoughts.

IAGO. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand, Nor shall not, whilst ’tis in my custody.

OTHELLO. Ha?

IAGO. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But O, what damned minutes tells he o’er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!

OTHELLO. O misery!

IAGO. Poor and content is rich, and rich enough; But riches fineless is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor. Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy!