A drop of patience: but, alas! to make me
A fixed figure, for the hand of scorn
To point his slowly moving finger at;
Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
Where either I must live, or bear no life,
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence,
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in!-turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!

Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. O! ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed!
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,
That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er
been born!

Des. Alas! what ignorant sin have I committed? Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write whore upon? What committed? Committed?-O thou public commoner! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds.-What committed? Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks: The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear it. What committed?Impudent strumpet !

Des.

By heaven you do me wrong.

Oth. Are not you a strumpet? Des.

No, as I am a Christian.

If to preserve this vessel for my lord,
From any other, foul, unlawful, touch,
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a whore?
Des.

Oth. Is it possible?

No, as I shall be saved.

[Kneeling.

Des. O, heaven forgive us!
Oth.
I cry you mercy, then?
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.-You, mistress,
Re-enter EMILIA.

That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell; you, you, ay, you:
We have done our course; there's money for your pains.
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel. [Exit.
Emil. Alas! what does this gentleman conceive?
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
Des. 'Faith, half asleep.

[Rising.
Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?
Des. With whom?
Emil.

Why, with my lord, madam.

Des. Who is thy lord? Emil.

He that is yours, sweet lady. Des. I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia; I cannot weep; nor answer have I none, But what should go by water. Pr'ythee, to-night Lay on my bed my wedding sheets,-remember;And call thy husband hither.

He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,
I am a child to chiding.
Iago.

What's the matter, lady?

Emil. Alas! Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, As true hearts cannot bear. Des. Am I that name, Iago? Iago. What name, fair lady? Des. Such as, she says, my lord did say I was. Emil. He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink, Could not have laid such terms upon his callat. Iago. Why did he so?

Des. I do not know; I am sure, I am none such. Iago. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day! Emil. Has she forsook so many noble matches, Her father, and her country, and her friends, To be call'd whore? would it not make one weep? Des. It is my wretched fortune. Iago.

Beshrew him for it!

How comes this trick upon him?
Des.
Nay, heaven doth know.
Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,

Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devis'd this slander; I'll be hang'd else.
Iago. Fie! there is no such man: it is impossible.
Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him!
Emil. A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones!
Why should he call her, whore? who keeps her com-
pany?

What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?
The Moor's abus'd by some most villainous knave,
Some base, notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.-
O, heaven! that such companions thou'dst 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.
Emil. 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.
Des.
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 does 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 humour:
The business of the state does him offence,
And he does chide with you.
Des.

If 'twere no other,-
Iago. 'Tis but so, I warrant.
[Music.
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 RODEkigo.

How now, Roderigo!

Rod. I do not find that thou deal'st justly with me. Iago. What in the contrary?

Rod. Every day thou doff'st me with some device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keep'st 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?

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

Iago. You charge me most unjustly.

Rod. 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 has received them, and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance; but I find none.

Iago. Well; go to; very well.

Rod. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis not very well: by this hand, I say, it is very scurvy; and begin to find myself fobbed in it. Iago. Very well.

Rod. 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.

Rod. Ay, and I have 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, I have dealt most directly in thy affair. Rod. It hath not appeared.

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

Rod. 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.

Rod. 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.

Rod. How do you mean removing of him? Iago. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place; knocking out his brains.

Rod. And that you would have me do?

Iago. Ay; if you dare do yourself a profit, and a right. He sups to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him: he knows not yet of his honourable fortune. If you will watch his going thence, (which I 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 supper-time, and the night grows to waste : about it.

Des. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu: We must not now displease him.

Emil. I would you had never seen him.

Des. So would not I: my love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks, and frowns,— Pr'ythee, unpin me,-have grace and favour in them. Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.

Des. All's one.-Good faith, how foolish are our minds!

If I do die before thee, pr'ythee, shroud me

In one of those same sheets.
Emil.

Come, come, you talk.

Des. My mother had a maid call'd Barbara: She was in love; and he she lov'd prov'd 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, to-night, Will not go from my mind; I have much to do, Not to go hang my head all at one side, And sing it like poor Barbara. Pr'ythee, despatch. Emil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown? No, unpin me here.— This Lodovico is a proper man. Emil. A very handsome man. Des. He speaks well.

Des.

Emil. I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip. Des. A poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,

[Singing.

·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

Emil. It is the wind.

Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong for

Sing willow, willow, willow:

If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo men. So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch; Doth that bode weeping?

Emil.

"Tis neither here nor there. Des. 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?

Emil.
There be some such, no question.
Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world?
Emil. Why, would not you?
Des.
No, by this heavenly light.
Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light:
I might do't as well i' the dark.

Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world? Emil. The world is a huge thing: 'tis a great price For a small vice.

Des. In troth, I think thou would'st not. Emil. In troth, I think I should, and undo't, when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, or any petty exhibition; but, for the whole world,-way, who would not make her husband a cuckold, to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for't.

Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' the world; and, having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right. Des. I do not think there is any such woman. Emil. Yes, a dozen; and as many

To the vantage, as would store the world they play'd 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 to.

Des. Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send,

Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend. [Exeunt.

Iago. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he

come:

Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home.
Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll he at thy elbow.
It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.

Rod. Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't. Iago. Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand. Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed; And yet he has given me satisfying reasons.'Tis but a man gone :-forth, my sword; he dies. [Stands back. Iago. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the

O! I am slain. [IAGO starts forward, cuts Cassio behind in the

Leg, and exit.

Cas. I am maim'd for ever.-Light, ho! murder!
murder!
[Falls.

Enter OTHELLO, at a distance.
Oth. The voice of Cassio.-Iago keeps his word.
Rod. O, villain that I am!

Oth.
It is e'en so.
Cas. O, help! ho! light! a surgeon!

Oth. 'Tis he.-O brave Iago! honest, and just,
That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong;
Thou teachest me.-Minion, your dear lies dead,
And your unblest fate hies :-strumpet, I come.
Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;
Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted.
[Exit OTHELLO.

Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO, at a distance. Cas. What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder!

Gra. "Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful. Cas. O, help!

Lod.

Rod.

Hark!

O, wretched villain!

Lod. Two or three groan.-It is a heavy night. These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe To come in to the cry without more help. Rod. No body come? then, shall I bleed to death. Enter IAGO, unready, with a Light.

Lod. Hark!

Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.

Iago. Who's there? whose noise is this, that cries out murder thus? Lod. We do not know.

Iago.
Did not you hear a cry?
Cas. Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me.
lago.

What's the matter?
Gra. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.
Lod. The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.
Iago. What are you here, that cry so grievously?
Cas. Iago? O! I am spoil'd; undone by villains:
Give me some help.

Iago. O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this? Cas. I think that one of them is hereabout, And cannot make away.

Iago. O treacherous villains!What are you there? come in, and give some help. [To LODOVICO and GRATIANO. Rod. O, help me! here. Cas. That's one of them. Iago.

O murderous slave! O villain! [IAGO stabs RODERIGO. Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!Iago. Kill men i' the dark!--Where be these bloody thieves?

How silent is this town!-Ho! murder! murder!
What may you be? are you of good, or evil?
Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us.
Iago. Signior Lodovico?

Lod. He, sir.

Iago. I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains. Gra. Cassio?

Iago. How is it, brother?

Cas. My leg is cut in two.
Iago.

Marry, heaven forbid! Light, gentlemen! I'll bind it with my shirt.

Enter BIANCA.

Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is't that cry'd? Iago. Who is't that cry'd!

Bian. O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!

Iago. O notable strumpet!-Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be, that have thus mangled you? Cas. No.

Gra. I am sorry, to find you thus: I have been to seek you.

Iago. Lend me a garter :-so.-O, for a chair, To bear him easily hence!

Bian. Alas! he faints.-O Cassio! Cassio! Cassio! Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash To be a party in this injury.Patience a while, good Cassio.-Come, come. Lend me a light.-Know we this face, or no?

[Looking at Rop. Alas! my friend, and my dear countryman, Roderigo? no:—yes, sure. O heaven! Roderigo. Gra. What, of Venice?

I am glad to see you.

Iago. How do you, Cassio?-O, a chair, a chair! Gra. Roderigo!

Iago. He, he, 'tis he.-O! that's well said;—the chair.[A chair brought. Some good man bear him carefully from hence; I'll fetch the general's surgeon.-For you, mistress, [To BIANCA. Save you your labour.-He that lies slain here, Cassio, Was my dear friend. What malice was between you? Cas. None in the world; nor do I know the man.

Iago. What, look you pale?-O, bear him out o'the air.[CASSIO and ROD. are borne off. Stay you, good gentlemen.-Look you pale, mistress? Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?— Nay, an you stir:-we shall hear more anon.Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her: Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak, Though tongues were out of use. Enter EMILIA.

Emil. Alas! what's the matter? what's the matter, husband?

Iago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
By Roderigo, and fellows that are scap'd:
He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!
Iago. This is the fruit of whoring.-Pr'ythee, Emilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night.-
What! do you shake at that?

Bian. He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake

Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.-
Emilia, run you to the citadel,

And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd.—
Will you go on, I pray?—This is the night, [Aside.
That either makes me, or fordoes me quite. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-A Bedchamber.

DESDEMONA in Bed asleep. A Light burning.

Enter OTHELLO, locking the Door after him.
Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,-
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!-
It is the cause.-Yet I'll not shed her blood;
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then-put out the light?
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me; but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,

I know not where is that Promethean heat,

That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the

rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again,

It needs must wither:-I'll smell it on the tree.-
[Kissing her.

O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword!-One more, one more.-
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after.-One more, and this the last :
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,

But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly;
It strikes, where it doth love.-She wakes-
Des. Who's there? Othello?
Oth.

Ay, Desdemona.

Des. Will you come to bed, my lord? Oth. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona? Des. Ay, my lord. Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime, Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight.

Des. Alas, my lord! what may you mean by that? Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by: