Before the Castle. |
|
Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown. |
Des. Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio Lies? |
Clo. I dare not say he lies any where. |
Des. Why, man? |
Clo. He is a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing. |
Des. Go to; where lodges he? |
Clo. To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie. |
Des. Can anything be made of this? |
Clo. 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. |
Des. Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report? |
Clo. I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions, and by them answer. |
Des. Seek him, bid him come hither; tell him I have moved my lord in his behalf, and hope all will be well. |
Clo. To do this is within the compass of man's wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it. [Exit. |
Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? |
Emil. I know not, madam. |
Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse |
Full of cruzadoes; 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. |
Emil. Is he not jealous? |
Des. Who! he? I think the sun where he was born |
Drew all such humours from him. |
Emil. Look! where he comes. |
Des. I will not leave him now till Cassio |
Be call'd to him. |
|
Enter OTHELLO. |
How is 't with you, my lord? |
Oth. Well, my good lady. [Aside.] O! hardness to dissemble. |
How do you, Desdemona? |
Des. Well, my good lord. |
Oth. Give me your hand. This hand is moist, my lady. |
Des. It yet has felt no age nor known no sorrow. |
Oth. 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. |
Des. You may, indeed, say so; |
For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart. |
Oth. A liberal hand; the hearts of old gave hands, |
But our new heraldry is hands not hearts. |
Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise. |
Oth. What promise, chuck? |
Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you. |
Oth. I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me. |
Lend me thy handkerchief. |
Des. Here, my lord. |
Oth. That which I gave you. |
Des. I have it not about me. |
Oth. Not? |
Des. No, indeed, my lord. |
Oth. 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 a gift of it, my father's eye |
Should hold her loathed, and his spirits should 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. |
Des. Is 't possible? |
Oth. '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 dy'd in mummy which the skilful |
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. |
Des. Indeed! is 't true? |
Oth. Most veritable; therefore look to 't well. |
Des. Then would to heaven that I had never seen it! |
Oth. Ha! wherefore? |
Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash? |
Oth. Is 't lost? is 't gone? speak, is it out o' the way? |
Des. Heaven bless us! |
Oth. Say you? |
Des. It is not lost: but what an if it were? |
Oth. How! |
Des. I say, it is not lost. |
Oth. Fetch 't, let me see 't. |
Des. 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 receiv'd again. |
Oth. Fetch me the handkerchief; my mind misgives. |
Des. Come, come; |
You'll never meet a more sufficient man. |
Oth. The handkerchief! |
Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio. |
Oth. The handkerchief! |
Des. A man that all his time |
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, |
Shar'd dangers with you,— |
Oth. The handkerchief! |
Des. In sooth you are to blame. |
Oth. Away! [Exit. |
Emil. Is not this man jealous? |
Des. I ne'er saw this before. |
Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief; |
I am most unhappy in the loss of it. |
Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man; |
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; |
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full |
They belch us. Look you! Cassio and my husband. |
|
Enter IAGO and CASSIO. |
Iago. There is no other way; 'tis she must do 't: |
And, lo! the happiness: go and importune her. |
Des. How now, good Cassio! what's the news with you? |
Cas. Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you |
That by your virtuous means I may again |
Exist, and be a member of his love |
Whom I with all the office of my heart |
Entirely honour; I would not be delay'd. |
If my offence be of such mortal kind |
That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, |
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity, |
Can ransom me into his love again, |
But to know so must be my benefit; |
So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content, |
And shut myself up in some other course |
To fortune's alms. |
Des. Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio! |
My advocation is not now in tune; |
My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him, |
Were he in favour as in humour alter'd. |
So help me every spirit sanctified, |
As I have spoken for you all my best |
And stood within the blank of his displeasure |
For my free speech. You must awhile be patient; |
What I can do I will, and more I will |
Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you. |
Iago. Is my lord angry? |
Emil. He went hence but now, |
And, certainly in strange unquietness. |
Iago. Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, |
When it hath blown his ranks into the air, |
And, like the devil, from his very arm |
Puff'd his own brother; and can he be angry? |
Something of moment then; I will go meet him; |
There's matter in 't indeed, if he be angry. |
Des. I prithee, do so. [Exit IAGO.] Something, sure, of state, |
Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practice |
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, |
Hath puddled his clear spirit; and, in such cases |
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, |
Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so; |
For let our finger ache, and it indues |
Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense |
Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods, |
Nor of them look for such observancy |
As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, |
I was—unhandsome warrior as I am— |
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; |
But now I find I had suborn'd the witness, |
And he's indicted falsely. |
Emil. Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think, |
And no conception, nor no jealous toy |
Concerning you. |
Des. Alas the day! I never gave him cause. |
Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; |
They are not ever jealous for the cause, |
But jealous for they are jealous; 'tis a monster |
Begot upon itself, born on itself. |
Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind! |
Emil. Lady, amen. |
Des. I will go seek him. Cassio, walk here-about; |
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit |
And seek to effect it to my uttermost. |
Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship. [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA. |
|
Enter BIANCA. |
Bian. Save you, friend Cassio! |
Cas. What make you from home? |
How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? |
I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. |
Bian. And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. |
What! keep a week away? seven days and nights? |
Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours, |
More tedious than the dial eight score times? |
O weary reckoning! |
Cas. Pardon me, Bianca, |
I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd, |
But I shall, in a more continuate time, |
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca. [Giving her DESDEMONA'S handkerchief. |
Take me this work out. |
Bian. O Cassio! whence came this? |
This is some token from a newer friend; |
To the felt absence now I feel a cause; |
Is 't come to this? Well, well. |
Cas. Go to, woman! |
Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, |
From whence you have them. You are jealous now |
That this is from some mistress, some remembrance: |
No, in good troth, Bianca. |
Bian. Why, whose is it? |
Cas. I know not, sweet; I found it in my chamber. |
I like the work well; ere it be demanded,— |
As like enough it will,—I'd have it copied; |
Take it and do 't; and leave me for this time. |
Bian. Leave you! wherefore? |
Cas. I do attend here on the general, |
And think it no addition nor my wish |
To have him see me woman'd. |
Bian. Why, I pray you? |
Cas. Not that I love you not. |
Bian. But that you do not love me. |
I pray you, bring me on the way a little |
And say if I shall see you soon at night. |
Cas. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you, |
For I attend here; but I'll see you soon. |
Bian. 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanc'd. [Exeunt. |
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