Heaven knows, not I;
I nothing but to please his fantasy.
Re-enter Iago
Iago
How now! what do you here alone?
Emilia
Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.
Iago
A thing for me? it is a common thing —
Emilia
Ha!
Iago
To have a foolish wife.
Emilia
O, is that all? What will you give me now
For the same handkerchief?
Iago
What handkerchief?
Emilia
What handkerchief?
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
That which so often you did bid me steal.
Iago
Hast stol’n it from her?
Emilia
No, ’faith; she let it drop by negligence.
And, to the advantage, I, being here, took’t up.
Look, here it is.
Iago
A good wench; give it me.
Emilia
What will you do with ’t, that you have been so earnest To have me filch it?
Iago
[Snatching it] Why, what’s that to you?
Emilia
If it be not for some purpose of import,
Give’t me again: poor lady, she’ll run mad
When she shall lack it.
Iago
Be not acknown on ’t; I have use for it.
Go, leave me.
Exit Emilia
I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison:
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons.
Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
But with a little act upon the blood.
Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so:
Look, where he comes!
Re-enter Othello
Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou owedst yesterday.
Othello
Ha! ha! false to me?
Iago
Why, how now, general! no more of that.
Othello
Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:
I swear ’tis better to be much abused
Than but to know’t a little.
Iago
How now, my lord!
Othello
What sense had I of her stol’n hours of lust?
I saw’t not, thought it not, it harm’d not me:
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips:
He that is robb’d, not wanting what is stol’n,
Let him not know’t, and he’s not robb’d at all.
Iago
I am sorry to hear this.
Othello
I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever
Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove’s dead clamours counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone!
Iago
Is’t possible, my lord?
Othello
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof:
Or by the worth of man’s eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my waked wrath!
Iago
Is’t come to this?
Othello
Make me to see’t; or, at the least, so prove it,
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!
Iago
My noble lord,—
Othello
If thou dost slander her and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horror’s head horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.
Iago
O grace! O heaven forgive me!
Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?
God be wi’ you; take mine office. O wretched fool.
That livest to make thine honesty a vice!
O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honest is not safe.
I thank you for this profit; and from hence
I’ll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.
Othello
Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest.
Iago
I should be wise, for honesty’s a fool
And loses that it works for.
Othello
By the world,
I think my wife be honest and think she is not;
I think that thou art just and think thou art not.
I’ll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
As Dian’s visage, is now begrimed and black
As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
I’ll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!
Iago
I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:
I do repent me that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?
Othello
Would! nay, I will.
Iago
And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on —
Behold her topp’d?
Othello
Death and damnation! O!
Iago
It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring them to that prospect: damn them then,
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
More than their own! What then? how then?
What shall I say? Where’s satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this,
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
If imputation and strong circumstances,
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you satisfaction, you may have’t.
Othello
Give me a living reason she’s disloyal.
Iago
I do not like the office:
But, sith I am enter’d in this cause so far,
Prick’d to’t by foolish honesty and love,
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep.
There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
One of this kind is Cassio:
In sleep I heard him say ‘sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;’
And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
Cry ‘O sweet creature!’ and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluck’d up kisses by the roots
&n
bsp; That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh’d, and kiss’d; and then
Cried ‘Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!’
Othello
O monstrous! monstrous!
Iago
Nay, this was but his dream.
Othello
But this denoted a foregone conclusion:
’Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.
Iago
And this may help to thicken other proofs
That do demonstrate thinly.
Othello
I’ll tear her all to pieces.
Iago
Nay, but 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 to-day
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 thy hollow cell!
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
For ’tis of aspics’ tongues!
Iago
Yet be content.
Othello
O, blood, blood, blood!
Iago
Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change.
Othello
Never, Iago: Like to the Pontic sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne’er feels 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 yond marble heaven,
Kneels
In the due reverence of a sacred vow
I here engage my words.
Iago
Do not rise yet.
Kneels
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 wrong’d Othello’s service! Let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
What bloody business ever.
They rise
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!
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
SCENE IV. BEFORE THE CASTLE.
Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown
Desdemona
Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?
Clown
I dare not say he lies any where.
Desdemona
Why, man?
Clown
He’s a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.
Desdemona
Go to: where lodges he?
Clown
To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie.
Desdemona
Can any thing 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 inquire him out, and be edified by report?
Clown
I will catechise 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 that 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 call’d to him.
Enter Othello
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 yet 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
Here, my lord.
Othello
That which I gave you.
Desdemona
I have it not about me.
Othello
Not?
Desdemona
No, indeed, my lord.
Othello
That is 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 gift of it, my father’s eye
Should hold her loathed and his spirits sh
ould hunt
After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me;
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
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 number’d in the world
The sun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sew’d the work;
The worms were hallow’d that did breed the silk;
And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful
Conserved of maidens’ hearts.
Desdemona
Indeed! is’t true?
Othello
Most veritable; therefore look to’t well.
Desdemona
Then would to God that I had never seen’t!
Othello
Ha! wherefore?
Desdemona
Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
Othello
Is’t lost? is’t gone? speak, is it out o’ the 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
In sooth, you are to blame.
Othello
Away!
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;
To eat us hungerly, and when they are full,
They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband!
Enter Cassio and Iago
Iago
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
Complete Plays, The Page 93