Desdemona
Worse and worse.
Emilia
How if fair and foolish?
Iago
She never yet was foolish that was fair;
For even her folly help’d her to an heir.
Desdemona
These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i’ the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that’s foul and foolish?
Iago
There’s none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
Desdemona
O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?
Iago
She that was ever fair and never proud,
Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
Never lack’d gold and yet went never gay,
Fled from her wish and yet said ‘Now I may,’
She that being anger’d, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,
She that in wisdom never was so frail
To change the cod’s head for the salmon’s tail;
She that could think and ne’er disclose her mind,
See suitors following and not look behind,
She was a wight, if ever such wight were,—
Desdemona
To do what?
Iago
To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
Desdemona
O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal counsellor?
Cassio
He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar.
Iago
[Aside] He takes her by the palm: ay, well said, whisper: with as little a web as this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You say true; ’tis so, indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are most apt to play the sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy! ’tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!
Trumpet within
The Moor! I know his trumpet.
Cassio
’Tis truly so.
Desdemona
Let’s meet him and receive him.
Cassio
Lo, where he comes!
Enter Othello and Attendants
Othello
O my fair warrior!
Desdemona
My dear Othello!
Othello
It gives me wonder great as my content
To see you here before me. O my soul’s joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken’d death!
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus-high and duck again as low
As hell’s from heaven! If it were now to die,
’Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
Desdemona
The heavens forbid
But that our loves and comforts should increase,
Even as our days do grow!
Othello
Amen to that, sweet powers!
I cannot speak enough of this content;
It stops me here; it is too much of joy:
And this, and this, the greatest discords be
Kissing her
That e’er our hearts shall make!
Iago
[Aside] O, you are well tuned now!
But I’ll set down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.
Othello
Come, let us to the castle.
News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks are drown’d.
How does my old acquaintance of this isle?
Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;
I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago,
Go to the bay and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou the master to the citadel;
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more, well met at Cyprus.
Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants
Iago
Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come hither. If thou be’st valiant,— as, they say, base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them — list me. The lieutenant tonight watches on the court of guard:— first, I must tell thee this — Desdemona is directly in love with him.
Roderigo
With him! why, ’tis not possible.
Iago
Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies: and will she love him still for prating? let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed; and what delight shall she have to look on the devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour, sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct her in it and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted,— as it is a most pregnant and unforced position — who stands so eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio does? a knave very voluble; no further conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why, none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman hath found him already.
Roderigo
I cannot believe that in her; she’s full of most blessed condition.
Iago
Blessed fig’s-end! the wine she drinks is made of grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst not mark that?
Roderigo
Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.
Iago
Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night; for the command, I’ll lay’t upon you. Cassio knows you not. I’ll not be far from you: do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favourably minister.
Roderigo
Well.
Iago
Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the impediment most profitably removed,
without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity.
Roderigo
I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity.
Iago
I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel:
I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.
Roderigo
Adieu.
Exit
Iago
That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
That she loves him, ’tis apt and of great credit:
The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,
And I dare think he’ll prove to Desdemona
A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;
Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
I stand accountant for as great a sin,
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leap’d into my seat; the thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
And nothing can or shall content my soul
Till I am even’d with him, wife for wife,
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I’ll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb —
For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too —
Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.
For making him egregiously an ass
And practising upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness. ’Tis here, but yet confused:
Knavery’s plain face is never seen tin used.
Exit
SCENE II. A STREET.
Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People following
Herald
It is Othello’s pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph; some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!
Exeunt
SCENE III. A HALL IN THE CASTLE.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants
Othello
Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:
Let’s teach ourselves that honourable stop,
Not to outsport discretion.
Cassio
Iago hath direction what to do;
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
Will I look to’t.
Othello
Iago is most honest.
Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest
Let me have speech with you.
To Desdemona
Come, my dear love,
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
That profit’s yet to come ’tween me and you.
Good night.
Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants
Enter Iago
Cassio
Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.
Iago
Not this hour, lieutenant; ’tis not yet ten o’ the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for Jove.
Cassio
She’s a most exquisite lady.
Iago
And, I’ll warrant her, fun of game.
Cassio
Indeed, she’s a most fresh and delicate creature.
Iago
What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of provocation.
Cassio
An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.
Iago
And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
Cassio
She is indeed perfection.
Iago
Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello.
Cassio
Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
Iago
O, they are our friends; but one cup: I’ll drink for you.
Cassio
I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.
Iago
What, man! ’tis a night of revels: the gallants desire it.
Cassio
Where are they?
Iago
Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.
Cassio
I’ll do’t; but it dislikes me.
Exit
Iago
If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
He’ll be as full of quarrel and offence
As my young mistress’ dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,
Whom love hath turn’d almost the wrong side out,
To Desdemona hath to-night caroused
Potations pottle-deep; and he’s to watch:
Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,
That hold their honours in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,
Have I to-night fluster’d with flowing cups,
And they watch too. Now, ’mongst this flock of drunkards,
Am I to put our Cassio in some action
That may offend the isle.— But here they come:
If consequence do but approve my dream,
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
Re-enter Cassio; with him Montano and Gentlemen; servants following with wine
Cassio
’Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.
Montano
Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier.
Iago
Some wine, ho!
Sings
And let me the canakin clink, clink;
And let me the canakin clink
A soldier’s a man;
A life’s but a span;
Why, then, let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys!
Cassio
’Fore God, an excellent song.
Iago
I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander — Drink, ho!— are nothing to your English.
Cassio
Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?
Iago
Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled.
Cassio
To the health of our general!
Montano
I am for it, lieutenant; and I’ll do you justice.
Iago
O sweet England!
King Stephen was a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he call’d the tailor lown.
He was a wight of high renown,
And thou art but of low degree:
’Tis pride that pulls the country down;
Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
Some wine, ho!
Cassio
Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.
Iago
Will you hear’t again?
Cassio
No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God’s above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
Iago
It’s true, good lieutenant.
Cassio
For mine own part,— no offence to the general, nor any man of quality,— I hope to be saved.
Iago
And so do I too, lieutenant.
Cassio
Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let’s have no more of this; let’s to our affairs.— Forgive us our sins!— Gentlemen, let’s look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left: I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough.
All
Excellent well.
Cassio
Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk.
Exit
Montano
To the platform, masters; come, let’s set the watch.
Iago
You see this fellow that is gone before;
He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
And give direction: and do but see his vice;
’Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
The one as long as the 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!’
Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo
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