Exit

  Cas. I humbly thanke your Ladyship.
Enter Bianca.

  Bian. 'Saue you (Friend Cassio.)
  Cassio. What make you from home?
How is't with you, my most faire Bianca?
Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house

   Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Cassio.
What? keepe a weeke away? Seuen dayes, and Nights?
Eight score eight houres? And Louers absent howres
More tedious then the Diall, eight score times?
Oh weary reck'ning

   Cassio. Pardon me, Bianca:
I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest,
But I shall in a more continuate time
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca
Take me this worke out

   Bianca. Oh Cassio, whence came this?
This is some Token from a newer Friend,
To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause:
Is't come to this? Well, well

   Cassio. Go too, woman:
Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth,
From whence you haue them. You are iealious now,
That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance;
No, in good troth Bianca

   Bian. Why, who's is it?
  Cassio. I know not neither:
I found it in my Chamber,
I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded
(As like enough it will) I would haue it coppied:
Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time

   Bian. Leaue you? Wherefore?
  Cassio. I do attend heere on the Generall,
And thinke it no addition, nor my wish
To haue him see me woman'd

   Bian. Why, I pray you?
  Cassio. Not that I loue you not

   Bian. But that you do not loue me.
I pray you bring me on the way a little,
And say, if I shall see you soone at night?
  Cassio. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone

   Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd.

Exeunt. omnes.


Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Othello, and Iago.

  Iago. Will you thinke so?
  Oth. Thinke so, Iago?
  Iago. What, to kisse in priuate?
  Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse?
  Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed,
An houre, or more, not meaning any harme?
  Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme?
It is hypocrisie against the Diuell:
They that meane vertuously, and yet do so,
The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen

   Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip:
But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe

   Oth. What then?
  Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers,
She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man

   Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too:
May she giue that?
  Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene,
They haue it very oft, that haue it not.
But for the Handkerchiefe

   Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it:
Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie,
As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house:
Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe

   Iago . I: what of that?
  Othe. That's not so good now

   Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong?
Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad,
Who hauing by their owne importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris,
Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse
But they must blab.)
  Oth. Hath he said any thing?
  Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd,
No more then he'le vn-sweare

   Oth. What hath he said?
  Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did

   Othe. What? What?
  Iago. Lye

   Oth. With her?
  Iago. With her? On her: what you will

   Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her,
when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome:
Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse,
and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd,
and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not
inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some
Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish)
Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe?
O diuell.

Falls in a Traunce.

  Iago. Worke on,
My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught,
And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus,
(All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord?
My Lord, I say: Othello.
Enter Cassio.

How now Cassio?
  Cas. What's the matter?
  Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie,
This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday

   Cas. Rub him about the Temples

   Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course:
If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by
Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres:
Do you withdraw your selfe a little while,
He will recouer straight: when he is gone,
I would on great occasion, speake with you.
How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head?
  Othe. Dost thou mocke me?
  Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen:
Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man

   Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast

   Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty,
And many a ciuill Monster

   Othe. Did he confesse it?
  Iago. Good Sir, be a man:
Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd
May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue,
That nightly lye in those vnproper beds,
Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better.
Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch;
And to suppose her chast. No, let me know,
And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe

   Oth. Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine

   Iago. Stand you a while apart,
Confine your selfe but in a patient List,
Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe
(A passion most resulting such a man)
Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,
And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie,
Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me,
The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe,
And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes
That dwell in euery Region of his face.
For I will make him tell the Tale anew;
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
He hath, and is againe to cope your wife.
I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience,
Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene,
And nothing of a man

   Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago,
I will be found most cunning in my Patience:
But (do'st thou heare) most bloody

   Iago. That's not amisse,
But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw?
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
A Huswife that by selling her desires
Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature
That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague
To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one)
He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine
From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes.
Enter Cassio.

As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad:
And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue
Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours
Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?
  Cas. The worser, that you giue me the addition,
Whose want euen killes me

   Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't:
Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre,
How quickely should you speed?
  Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe

   Oth. Looke how he laughes already

   Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so

   Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me

   Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out

   Iago. Do you heare Cassio?
  Oth. Now he importunes him
To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said

   Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her.
Do you intend it?
  Cas. Ha, ha, ha

   Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph?
  Cas. I marry. What? A customer; prythee beare
Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it
So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha

   Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes

   Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her

   Cas. Prythee say true

   Iago. I am a very Villaine else

   Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well

   Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out:
She is perswaded I will marry her
Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise

   Oth. Iago becomes me: now he begins the story

   Cassio. She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery
place. I was the other day talking on the Seabanke
with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the
Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck

   Oth. Crying oh deere Cassio, as it were: his iesture imports
it

   Cassio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me:
So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha

   Oth. Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber:
oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dogge, I
shall throw it to

   Cassio. Well, I must leaue her companie

   Iago. Before me: looke where she comes.
Enter Bianca.

  Cas. 'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one?
What do you meane by this haunting of me?
  Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what
did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue
me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take
out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should
finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there.
This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke?
There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had
it, Ile take out no worke on't

   Cassio. How now, my sweete Bianca?
How now? How now?
  Othe. By Heauen, that should be my Handkerchiefe

   Bian. If you'le come to supper to night you may, if
you will not come when you are next prepar'd for.

Exit

  Iago. After her: after her

   Cas. I must, shee'l rayle in the streets else

   Iago. Will you sup there?
  Cassio. Yes, I intend so

   Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very
faine speake with you

   Cas. Prythee come: will you?
  Iago. Go too; say no more

   Oth. How shall I murther him, Iago

   Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice?
  Oth. Oh, Iago

   Iago. And did you see the Handkerchiefe?
  Oth. Was that mine?
  Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes
the foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him and, he
hath giu'n it his whore

   Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing:
A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman?
  Iago. Nay, you must forget that

   Othello. I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to
night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to
stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world
hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an Emperours
side, and command him Taskes

   Iago. Nay, that's not your way

   Othe. Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate
with her Needle: an admirable Musitian. Oh she will
sing the Sauagenesse out of a Beare: of so high and plenteous
wit, and inuention?
  Iago. She's the worse for all this

   Othe. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times:
And then of so gentle a condition?
  Iago. I too gentle

   Othe. Nay that's certaine:
But yet the pitty of it, Iago: oh Iago, the pitty of it
Iago

   Iago. If you are so fond ouer her iniquitie: giue her
pattent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere
no body

   Oth. I will chop her into Messes: Cuckold me?
  Iago. Oh, 'tis foule in her

   Oth. With mine Officer?
  Iago. That's fouler

   Othe. Get me some poyson, Iago, this night. Ile not
expostulate with her: least her body and beautie vnprouide
my mind againe: this night Iago

   Iago. Do it not with poyson, strangle her in her bed,
Euen the bed she hath contaminated

   Oth. Good, good:
The Iustice of it pleases: very good

   Iago. And for Cassio, let me be his vndertaker:
You shall heare more by midnight.
Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants.

  Othe. Excellent good: What Trumpet is that same?
  Iago. I warrant something from Venice,
'Tis Lodouico, this, comes from the Duke.
See, your wife's with him

   Lodo. Saue you worthy Generall

   Othe. With all my heart Sir

   Lod. The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you

   Othe. I kisse the Instrument of their pleasures

   Des. And what's the newes, good cozen Lodouico
  Iago. I am very glad to see you Signior:
Welcome to Cyprus

   Lod. I thanke you: how do's Lieutenant Cassio?
  Iago. Liues Sir,
  Des. Cozen, there's falne betweene him, & my Lord,
An vnkind breach: but you shall make all well

   Othe. Are you sure of that?
  Des. My Lord?
  Othe. This faile you not to do, as you will-
  Lod. He did not call: he's busie in the paper,
Is there deuision 'twixt my Lord, and Cassio?
  Des. A most vnhappy one: I would do much
T' attone, them, for the loue I beare to Cassio

   Oth. Fire, and brimestone

   Des. My Lord

   Oth. Are you wise?
  Des. What is he angrie?
  Lod. May be the Letter mou'd him.
For as I thinke, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his Gouernment

   Des. Trust me, I am glad on't

   Othe. Indeed?
  Des. My Lord?
  Othe. I am glad to see you mad

   Des. Why, sweete Othello?
  Othe. Diuell

   Des. I haue not deseru'd this

   Lod. My Lord, this would not be beleeu'd in Venice,
Though I should sweare I saw't. 'Tis very much,
Make her amends: she weepes

   Othe. Oh diuell, diuell:
If that the Earth could teeme with womans teares,
Each drop she falls, would proue a Crocodile:
Out of my sight

   Des. I will not stay to offend you

   Lod. Truely obedient Lady:
I do beseech your Lordship call her backe

   Othe. Mistris

   Des. My Lord

   Othe. What would you with her, Sir?
  Lod. Who I, my Lord?
  Othe. I, you did wish, that I would make her turne:
Sir, she can turne, and turne: and yet go on
And turne againe. And she can weepe, Sir, weepe.
And she's obedient: as you say obedient.
Very obedient: proceed you in your teares.
Concerning this Sir, (oh well-painted passion)
I am commanded home: get you away:
Ile send for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate,
And will returne to Venice. Hence, auaunt:
Cassio shall haue my Place. And Sir, to night
I do entreat, that we may sup together.
You are welcome Sir to Cyprus.
Goates, and Monkeys.
Enter.

  Lod. Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full Senate
Call all in all sufficient? Is this the Nature
Whom Passion could not shake? Whose solid vertue
The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance
Could neither graze, nor pierce?
  Iago. He is much chang'd

   Lod. Are his wits safe? Is he not light of Braine?
  Iago. He's that he is: I may not breath my censure.
What he might be: if what he might, he is not,
I would to heauen he were

   Lod. What? Strike his wife?
  Iago. 'Faith that was not so well: yet would I knew
That stroke would proue the worst

   Lod. Is it his vse?
Or did the Letters, worke vpon his blood,
And new create his fault?
  Iago. Alas, alas:
It is not honestie in me to speake
What I haue seene, and knowne. You shall obserue him,
And his owne courses will denote him so,
That I may saue my speech: do but go after
And marke how he continues

   Lod. I am sorry that I am deceiu'd in him.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Othello and aemilia.

  Othe. You haue seene nothing then?
Aemil. Nor euer heard: nor euer did suspect

   Othe. Yes, you haue seene Cassio, and she together

   Aemi. But then I saw no harme: and then I heard,
Each syllable that breath made vp betweene them

   Othe. What? Did they neuer whisper?
Aemil. Neuer my Lord

   Othe. Nor send you out o'th' way?
Aemil. Neuer

   Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor nothing?
Aemil. Neuer my Lord

   Othe. That's strange.
Aemil. I durst (my Lord) to wager, she is honest:
Lay downe my Soule at stake: If you thinke other,
Remoue your thought. It doth abuse your bosome:
If any wretch haue put this in your head,
Let Heauen requit it with the Serpents curse,
For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy. The purest of their Wiues
Is foule as Slander

   Othe. Bid her come hither: go.

Exit aemilia.

She saies enough: yet she's a simple Baud
That cannot say as much. This is a subtile Whore:
A Closset Locke and Key of Villanous Secrets,
And yet she'le kneele, and pray: I haue seene her do't.
Enter Desdemona, and aemilia.

  Des. My Lord, what is your will?
  Othe. Pray you Chucke come hither

   Des. What is your pleasure?
  Oth. Let me see your eyes: looke in my face

   Des. What horrible Fancie's this?
  Othe. Some of your Function Mistris:
Leaue Procreants alone, and shut the doore:
Cough, or cry hem; if any body come:
Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.

Exit aemi.

  Des. Vpon my knee, what doth your speech import?
I vnderstand a Fury in your words

   Othe. Why? What art thou?
  Des. Your wife my Lord: your true and loyall wife

   Othello. Come sweare it: damne thy selfe, least
being like one of Heauen, the diuells themselues should
feare to ceaze thee. Therefore be double damn'd: sweare
thou art honest

   Des. Heauen doth truely know it

   Othe. Heauen truely knowes, that thou art false as hell

   Des. To whom my Lord?
With whom? How am I false?
  Othe. Ah Desdemon, away, away, away

   Des. Alas the heauy day: why do you weepe?
Am I the motiue of these teares my Lord?
If happely you my Father do suspect,
An Instrument of this your calling backe,
Lay not your blame on me: if you haue lost him,
I haue lost him too

   Othe. Had it pleas'd Heauen,
To try me with Affliction, had they rain'd
All kind of Sores, and Shames on my bare-head:
Steep'd me in pouertie to the very lippes.
Giuen to Captiuitie, me, and my vtmost hopes,
I should haue found in some place of my Soule
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne,
To point his slow, and mouing finger at.
Yet could I beare that too, well, very well:
But there where I haue garnerd vp my heart,
Where either I must liue, or beare no life,
The Fountaine from the which my currant runnes,
Or else dries vp: to be discarded thence,
Or keepe it as a Cesterne, for foule Toades
To knot and gender in. Turne thy complexion there:
Patience, thou young and Rose-lip'd Cherubin,
I heere looke grim as hell

   Des. I hope my Noble Lord esteemes me honest

   Othe. Oh I, as Sommer Flyes are in the Shambles,
That quicken euen with blowing. Oh thou weed:
Who art so louely faire, and smell'st so sweete,
That the Sense akes at thee,
Would thou had'st neuer bin borne

   Des. Alas, what ignorant sin haue I committed?
  Othe. Was this faire Paper? This most goodly Booke
Made to write Whore vpon? What commited,
Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner,
I should make very Forges of my cheekes,
That would to Cynders burne vp Modestie,
Did I but speake thy deedes. What commited?
Heauen stoppes the Nose at it, and the Moone winks:
The baudy winde that kisses all it meetes,
Is hush'd within the hollow Myne of Earth
And will not hear't. What commited?
  Des. By Heauen you do me wrong

   Othe. Are not you a Strumpet?
  Des. No, as I am a Christian.
If to preserue this vessell for my Lord,
From any other foule vnlawfull touch
Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none

   Othe. What, not a Whore?
  Des. No, as I shall be sau'd

   Othe. Is't possible?
  Des. Oh Heauen forgiue vs

   Othe. I cry you mercy then.
I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice,
That married with Othello. You Mistris,
Enter aemilia.

That haue the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keepes the gate of hell. You, you: I you.
We haue done our course: there's money for your paines:
I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsaile.
Enter.

Aemil. Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceiue?
How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady?
  Des. Faith, halfe a sleepe

   Aemi. Good Madam,
What's the matter with my Lord?
  Des. With who?
Aemil. Why, with my Lord, Madam?
  Des. Who is thy Lord?
Aemil. He that is yours, sweet Lady

   Des. I haue none: do not talke to me, aemilia,
I cannot weepe: nor answeres haue I none,
But what should go by water. Prythee to night,
Lay on my bed my wedding sheetes, remember,
And call thy husband hither.
Aemil. Heere's a change indeed.
Enter.

  Des. 'Tis meete I should be vs'd so: very meete.
How haue I bin behau'd, that he might sticke
The small'st opinion on my least misvse?
Enter Iago, and aemilia.

  Iago. What is your pleasure Madam?
How is't with you?
  Des. I cannot tell: those that do teach yong Babes
Do it with gentle meanes, and easie taskes.
He might haue chid me so; for in good faith
I am a Child to chiding

   Iago. What is the matter Lady?
Aemil. Alas (Iago) my Lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Throwne such dispight, and heauy termes vpon her
That true hearts cannot beare it

   Des. Am I that name, Iago?
  Iago. What name, (faire Lady?)
  Des. Such as she said my Lord did say I was.
Aemil. He call'd her whore: a Begger in his drinke:
Could not haue laid such termes vpon his Callet

   Iago. Why did he so?
  Des. I do not know: I am sure I am none such

   Iago. Do not weepe, do not weepe: alas the day.
Aemil. Hath she forsooke so many Noble Matches?
Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends?
To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weepe?
  Des. It is my wretched Fortune

   Iago. Beshrew him for't:
How comes this Tricke vpon him?
  Des. Nay, Heauen doth know

   Aemi. I will be hang'd, if some eternall Villaine,
Some busie and insinuating Rogue,
Some cogging, cozening Slaue, to get some Office,
Haue not deuis'd this Slander: I will be hang'd else

   Iago. Fie, there is no such man: it is impossible

   Des. If any such there be, Heauen pardon him.
Aemil. A halter pardon him:
And hell gnaw his bones.
Why should he call her Whore?
Who keepes her companie?
What Place? What Time?
What Forme? What liklyhood?
The Moore's abus'd by some most villanous Knaue,
Some base notorious Knaue, some scuruy Fellow.
Oh Heauens, that such companions thou'd'st vnfold,
And put in euery honest hand a whip
To lash the Rascalls naked through the world,
Euen from the East to th' West

   Iago. Speake within doore.
Aemil. Oh fie vpon them: some such Squire he was
That turn'd your wit, the seamy-side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moore

   Iago. You are a Foole: go too

   Des. Alas Iago,
What shall I do to win my Lord againe?
Good Friend, go to him: for by this light of Heauen,
I know not how I lost him. Heere I kneele:
If ere my will did trespasse 'gainst his Loue,
Either in discourse of thought, or actuall deed,
Or that mine Eyes, mine Eares, or any Sence
Delighted them: or any other Forme.
Or that I do not yet, and euer did,
And euer will, (though he do shake me off
To beggerly diuorcement) Loue him deerely,
Comfort forsweare me. Vnkindnesse may do much,
And his vnkindnesse may defeat my life,
But neuer taynt my Loue. I cannot say Whore,
It do's abhorre me now I speake the word,
To do the Act, that might the addition earne,
Not the worlds Masse of vanitie could make me

   Iago. I pray you be content: 'tis but his humour:
The businesse of the State do's him offence

   Des. If 'twere no other

   Iago. It is but so, I warrant,
Hearke how these Instruments summon to supper:
The Messengers of Venice staies the meate,
Go in, and weepe not: all things shall be well.

Exeunt. Desdemona and aemilia.

Enter Rodorigo.

How now Rodorigo?
  Rod. I do not finde
That thou deal'st iustly with me

   Iago. What in the contrarie?
  Rodori. Euery day thou dafts me with some deuise
Iago, and rather, as it seemes to me now, keep'st from
me all conueniencie, then suppliest me with the least aduantage
of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor
am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already I
haue foolishly suffred

   Iago. Will you heare me Rodorigo?
  Rodori. I haue heard too much: and your words and
Performances are no kin together

   Iago. You charge me most vniustly

   Rodo. With naught but truth: I haue wasted my
selfe out of my meanes. The Iewels you haue had from
me to deliuer Desdemona, would halfe haue corrupted a
Votarist. You haue told me she hath receiu'd them,
and return'd me expectations and comforts of sodaine
respect, and acquaintance, but I finde none

   Iago. Well, go too: very well

   Rod. Very well, go too: I cannot go too, (man) nor
'tis not very well. Nay I think it is scuruy: and begin to
finde my selfe fopt in it

   Iago. Very well

   Rodor. I tell you, 'tis not very well: I will make my
selfe knowne to Desdemona. If she will returne me my
Iewels, I will giue ouer my Suit, and repent my vnlawfull
solicitation. If not, assure your selfe, I will seeke
satisfaction of you

   Iago. You haue said now

   Rodo. I: and said nothing but what I protest intendment
of doing

   Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee: and
euen from this instant do build on thee a better opinion
then euer before: giue me thy hand Rodorigo.
Thou hast taken against me a most iust exception:
but yet I protest I haue dealt most directly in thy
Affaire

   Rod. It hath not appeer'd

   Iago. I grant indeed it hath not appeer'd: and
your suspition is not without wit and iudgement.
But Rodorigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which
I haue greater reason to beleeue now then euer (I
meane purpose, Courage, and Valour) this night
shew it. If thou the next night following enioy not
Desdemona, take me from this world with Treacherie,
and deuise Engines for my life

   Rod. Well: what is it? Is it within, reason and compasse?
  Iago. Sir, there is especiall Commission come from
Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place

   Rod. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona
returne againe to Venice

   Iago. Oh no: he goes into Mauritania and taketh
away with him the faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode
be lingred heere by some accident. Wherein
none can be so determinate, as the remouing of
Cassio

   Rod. How do you meane remouing him?
  Iago. Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's
place: knocking out his braines

   Rod. And that you would haue me to do

   Iago. I: if you dare do your selfe a profit, and a
right. He sups to night with a Harlotry: and thither
will I go to him. He knowes not yet of his Honourable
Fortune, if you will watch his going thence (which
I will fashion to fall out betweene twelue and one)
you may take him at your pleasure. I will be neere
to second your Attempt, and he shall fall betweene
vs. Come, stand not amaz'd at it, but go along with
me: I will shew you such a necessitie in his death, that
you shall thinke your selfe bound to put it on him. It
is now high supper time: and the night growes to wast.
About it

   Rod. I will heare further reason for this

   Iago. And you shalbe satisfi'd.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, aemilia, and Atendants.

  Lod. I do beseech you Sir, trouble your selfe no further

   Oth. Oh pardon me: 'twill do me good to walke

   Lodoui. Madam, good night: I humbly thanke your
Ladyship

   Des. Your Honour is most welcome

   Oth. Will you walke Sir? Oh Desdemona

   Des. My Lord

   Othello. Get you to bed on th' instant, I will be return'd
forthwith: dismisse your Attendant there: look't
be done.
Enter.

  Des. I will my Lord

   Aem. How goes it now? He lookes gentler then he did

   Des. He saies he will returne incontinent,
And hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bid me to dismisse you

   Aemi. Dismisse me?
  Des. It was his bidding: therefore good aemilia,
Giue me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.
Aemil. I, would you had neuer seene him

   Des. So would not I: my loue doth so approue him,
That euen his stubbornesse, his checks, his frownes,
(Prythee vn-pin me) haue grace and fauour

   Aemi. I haue laid those Sheetes you bad me on the bed

   Des. All's one: good Father, how foolish are our minds?
If I do die before, prythee shrow'd me
In one of these same Sheetes.
Aemil. Come, come: you talke

   Des. My Mother had a Maid call'd Barbarie,
She was in loue: and he she lou'd prou'd mad,
And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough,
An old thing 'twas: but it express'd her Fortune,
And she dy'd singing it. That Song to night,
Will not go from my mind: I haue much to do,
But to go hang my head all at one side
And sing it like poore Barbarie: prythee dispatch

   Aemi. Shall I go fetch your Night-gowne?
  Des. No, vn-pin me here,
This Lodouico is a proper man.
Aemil. A very handsome man

   Des. He speakes well.
Aemil. I know a Lady in Venice would haue walk'd
barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip

   Des. The poore Soule sat singing, by a Sicamour tree.
Sing all a greene Willough:
Her hand on her bosome her head on her knee,
Sing Willough, Willough, Willough.
The fresh Streames ran by her, and murmur'd her moanes
Sing Willough, &c.
Her salt teares fell from her, and softned the stones,
Sing Willough, &c. (Lay by these)
Willough, Willough. (Prythee high thee: he'le come anon)
Sing all a greene Willough must be my Garland.
Let no body blame him, his scorne I approue.
(Nay that's not next. Harke, who is't that knocks?
Aemil. It's the wind

   Des. I call'd my Loue false Loue: but what said he then?
Sing Willough, &c.
If I court mo women, you'le couch with mo men.
So get thee gone, good night: mine eyes do itch:
Doth that boade weeping?
Aemil. 'Tis neyther heere, nor there

   Des. I haue heard it said so. O these Men, these men!
Do'st thou in conscience thinke (tell me aemilia)
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such grosse kinde?
Aemil. There be some such, no question

   Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world?
Aemil. Why, would not you?
  Des. No, by this Heauenly light.
Aemil. Nor I neither, by this Heauenly light:
I might doo't as well i'th' darke

   Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for al the world?
Aemil. The world's a huge thing:
It is a great price, for a small vice

   Des. Introth, I thinke thou would'st not.
Aemil. Introth I thinke I should, and vndoo't when
I had done. Marry, I would not doe such a thing for a
ioynt Ring, nor for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes,
Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for
all the whole world: why, who would not make her husband
a Cuckold, to make him a Monarch? I should venture
Purgatory for't

   Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
For the whole world.
Aemil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th' world;
and hauing the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in
your owne world, and you might quickly make it right

   Des. I do not thinke there is any such woman.
Aemil. Yes, a dozen: and as many to'th' vantage, as
would store the world they plaid for.
But I do thinke it is their Husbands faults
If Wiues do fall: (Say, that they slacke their duties,
And powre our Treasures into forraigne laps;
Or else breake out in peeuish Iealousies,
Throwing restraint vpon vs: Or say they strike vs,
Or scant our former hauing in despight)
Why we haue galles: and though we haue some Grace,
Yet haue we some Reuenge. Let Husbands know,
Their wiues haue sense like them: They see, and smell,
And haue their Palats both for sweet, and sowre,
As Husbands haue. What is it that they do,
When they change vs for others? Is it Sport?
I thinke it is: and doth Affection breed it?
I thinke it doth. Is't Frailty that thus erres?
It is so too. And haue not we Affections?
Desires for Sport? and Frailty, as men haue?
Then let them vse vs well: else let them know,
The illes we do, their illes instruct vs so

   Des. Good night, good night:
Heauen me such vses send,
Not to picke bad, from bad; but by bad, mend.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Iago, and Rodorigo.

  Iago. Heere, stand behinde this Barke,
Straight will he come:
Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home:
Quicke, quicke, feare nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow,
It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on that,
And fixe most firme thy Resolution

   Rod. Be neere at hand, I may miscarry in't

   Iago. Heere, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand

   Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the deed,
And yet he hath giuen me satisfying Reasons:
'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies

   Iago. I haue rub'd this yong Quat almost to the sense,
And he growes angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo,
He calles me to a restitution large
Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him,
As Guifts to Desdemona.
It must not be: If Cassio do remaine,
He hath a dayly beauty in his life,
That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore
May vnfold me to him: there stand I in much perill:
No, he must dye. But so, I heard him comming.
Enter Cassio.

  Rod. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villaine thou dyest

   Cas. That thrust had beene mine enemy indeed,
But that my Coate is better then thou know'st:
I will make proofe of thine

   Rod. Oh, I am slaine

   Cassio. I am maym'd for euer:
Helpe hoa: Murther, murther.
Enter Othello.

  Oth. The voyce of Cassio. Iago keepes his word

   Rod. O Villaine that I am

   Oth. It is euen so

   Cas. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon

   Oth. 'Tis he: O braue Iago, honest, and iust,
That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong,
Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes dead,
And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come:
For of my heart, those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted.
Thy Bed lust-stain'd, shall with Lusts blood bee spotted.

Exit Othello.

Enter Lodouico and Gratiano.

  Cas. What hoa? no Watch? No passage?
Murther, Murther

   Gra. 'Tis some mischance, the voyce is very direfull

   Cas. Oh helpe

   Lodo. Hearke

   Rod. Oh wretched Villaine

   Lod. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night;
These may be counterfeits: Let's think't vnsafe
To come into the cry, without more helpe

   Rod. Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death.
Enter Iago.

  Lod. Hearke

   Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and
Weapons

   Iago. Who's there?
Who's noyse is this that cries on murther?
  Lodo. We do not know

   Iago. Do not you heare a cry?
  Cas. Heere, heere: for heauen sake helpe me

   Iago. What's the matter?
  Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it

   Lodo. The same indeede, a very valiant Fellow

   Iago. What are you heere, that cry so greeuously?
  Cas. Iago? Oh I am spoyl'd, vndone by Villaines:
Giue me some helpe

   Iago. O mee, Lieutenant!
What Villaines haue done this?
  Cas. I thinke that one of them is heereabout.
And cannot make away

   Iago. Oh treacherous Villaines:
What are you there? Come in, and giue some helpe

   Rod. O helpe me there

   Cassio. That's one of them

   Iago. Oh murd'rous Slaue! O Villaine!
  Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhumane Dogge!
  Iago. Kill men i'th' darke?
Where be these bloody Theeues?
How silent is this Towne? Hoa, murther, murther.
What may you be? Are you of good, or euill?
  Lod. As you shall proue vs, praise vs

   Iago. Signior Lodouico?
  Lod. He Sir

   Iago. I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by Villaines

   Gra. Cassio?
  Iago. How is't Brother?
  Cas. My Legge is cut in two

   Iago. Marry heauen forbid:
Light Gentlemen, Ile binde it with my shirt.
Enter Bianca.

  Bian. What is the matter hoa? Who is't that cry'd?
  Iago. Who is't that cry'd?
  Bian. Oh my deere Cassio,
My sweet Cassio: Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio

   Iago. O notable Strumpet. Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be, that haue thus mangled you?
  Cas. No

   Gra. I am sorry to finde you thus;
I haue beene to seeke you

   Iago. Lend me a Garter. So: - Oh for a Chaire
To beare him easily hence

   Bian. Alas he faints. Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio

   Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash
To be a party in this Iniurie.
Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no?
Alas my Friend, and my deere Countryman
Rodorigo? No: Yes sure: Yes, 'tis Rodorigo

   Gra. What, of Venice?
  Iago. Euen he Sir: Did you know him?
  Gra. Know him? I

   Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon:
These bloody accidents must excuse my Manners,
That so neglected you

   Gra. I am glad to see you

   Iago. How do you Cassio? Oh, a Chaire, a Chaire

   Gra. Rodorigo?
  Iago. He, he, 'tis he:
Oh that's well said, the Chaire.
Some good man beare him carefully from hence,
Ile fetch the Generall's Surgeon. For you Mistris,
Saue you your labour. He that lies slaine heere (Cassio)
Was my deere friend. What malice was between you

   Cas. None in the world: nor do I know the man?
  Iago. What? looke you pale? Oh beare him o'th' Ayre.
Stay you good Gentlemen. Looke you pale, Mistris?
Do you perceiue the gastnesse of her eye?
Nay, if you stare, we shall heare more anon.
Behold her well: I pray you looke vpon her:
Do you see Gentlemen? Nay, guiltinesse will speake
Though tongues were out of vse.
Aemil. Alas, what is the matter?
What is the matter, Husband?
  Iago. Cassio hath heere bin set on in the darke
By Rodorigo, and Fellowes that are scap'd:
He's almost slaine, and Rodorigo quite dead.
Aemil. Alas good Gentleman: alas good Cassio

   Iago. This is the fruits of whoring. Prythe aemilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supt to night.
What, do you shake at that?
  Bian. He supt at my house, but I therefore shake not

   Iago. O did he so? I charge you go with me.
Aemil. Oh fie vpon thee Strumpet

   Bian. I am no Strumpet, but of life as honest,
As you that thus abuse me.
Aemil. As I? Fie vpon thee

   Iago. Kinde Gentlemen:
Let's go see poore Cassio drest.
Come Mistris, you must tel's another Tale.
aemilia, run you to the Cittadell,
And tell my Lord and Lady, what hath happ'd:
Will you go on afore? This is the night
That either makes me, or foredoes me quight.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Othello, and Desdemona in her bed.

  Oth. It is the Cause, it is the Cause (my Soule)
Let me not name it to you, you chaste Starres,
It is the Cause. Yet Ile not shed her blood,
Nor scarre that whiter skin of hers, then Snow,
And smooth as Monumentall Alablaster:
Yet she must dye, else shee'l betray more men:
Put out the Light, and then put out the Light:
If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister,
I can againe thy former light restore,
Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light,
Thou cunning'st Patterne of excelling Nature,
I know not where is that Promethaean heate
That can thy Light re-Lume.
When I haue pluck'd thy Rose,
I cannot giue it vitall growth againe,
It needs must wither. Ile smell thee on the Tree.
Oh Balmy breath, that dost almost perswade
Iustice to breake her Sword. One more, one more:
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And loue thee after. One more, and that's the last.
So sweet, was ne're so fatall. I must weepe,
But they are cruell Teares: This sorrow's heauenly,
It strikes, where it doth loue. She wakes

   Des. Who's there? Othello?
  Othel. I Desdemona

   Des. Will you come to bed, my Lord?
  Oth. Haue you pray'd to night, Desdemon?
  Des. I my Lord

   Oth. If you bethinke your selfe of any Crime
Vnreconcil'd as yet to Heauen, and Grace,
Solicite for it straight

   Des. Alacke, my Lord,
What may you meane by that?
  Oth. Well, do it, and be breefe, I will walke by:
I would not kill thy vnprepared Spirit,
No, Heauens fore-fend) I would not kill thy Soule

   Des. Talke you of killing?
  Oth. I, I do

   Des. Then Heauen haue mercy on mee

   Oth. Amen, with all my heart

   Des. If you say, I hope you will not kill me

   Oth. Humh

   Des. And yet I feare you: for you're fatall then
When your eyes rowle so.
Why I should feare, I know not,
Since guiltinesse I know not: But yet I feele I feare

   Oth. Thinke on thy sinnes

   Des. They are Loues I beare to you

   Oth. I, and for that thou dy'st

   Des. That death's vnnaturall, that kils for louing.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether-lip?
Some bloody passion shakes your very Frame:
These are portents: but yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me

   Oth. Peace, and be still

   Des. I will so: What's the matter?
  Oth. That Handkerchiefe
Which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'st to Cassio

   Des. No by my Life, and Soule: send for the man,
And aske him

   Oth. Sweet Soule, take heed, take heed of Periury,
Thou art on thy death-bed

   Des. I, but not yet to dye

   Oth. Presently.
Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne:
For to deny each Article with Oath,
Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception
That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye

   Des. O Heauen haue mercy on me

   Oth. I say, Amen

   Des. And haue you mercy too. I neuer did
Offend you in my life: neuer lou'd Cassio,
But with such generall warrantie of Heauen,
As I might loue. I neuer gaue him Token

   Oth. By Heauen I saw my Handkerchiefe in's hand.
O periur'd woman, thou do'st stone my heart,
And makes me call, what I intend to do,
A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice.
I saw the Handkerchiefe

   Des. He found it then:
I neuer gaue it him: Send, for him hither:
Let him confesse a truth

   Oth. He hath confest

   Des. What, my Lord?
  Oth. That he hath vs'd thee

   Des. How? vnlawfully?
  Oth. I

   Des. He will not say so

   Oth. No: his mouth is stopp'd:
Honest Iago hath 'tane order for't

   Des. Oh, my feare interprets. What is he dead?
  Oth. Had all his haires bin liues, my great Reuenge
Had stomacke for them all

   Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I vndone

   Oth. Out Strumpet: weep'st thou for him to my face?
  Des. O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not

   Oth. Downe Strumpet

   Des. Kill me to morrow, let me liue to night

   Oth. Nay, if you striue

   Des. But halfe an houre

   Oth. Being done, there is no pawse

   Des. But while I say one prayer

   Oth. It is too late.

Smothers her.

aemilia at the doore.

Aemil. My Lord, my Lord? What hoa?
My Lord, my Lord

   Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
I that am cruell, am yet mercifull,
I would not haue thee linger in thy paine?
So, so.
Aemil. within. What hoa? my Lord, my Lord?
  Oth. Who's there?
Aemil. Oh good my Lord, I would speake a word
with you

   Oth. Yes: 'Tis aemilia: by and by. Shee's dead.
'Tis like she comes to speake of Cassio's death:
The noise was high. Hah, no more moouing?
Still as the Graue. Shall she come in? Wer't good?
I thinke she stirres againe. No, what's best to do?
If she come in, shee'l sure speake to my wife:
My wife, my wife: what wife? I haue no wife.
Oh insupportable! Oh heauy houre!
Me thinkes, it should be now a huge Eclipse
Of Sunne, and Moone; and that th' affrighted Globe
Did yawne at Alteration.
Aemil. I do beseech you
That I may speake with you. Oh good my Lord

   Oth. I had forgot thee: oh come in aemilia.
Soft, by and by, let me the Curtaines draw.
Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now?
Enter aemilia.

Aemil. Oh my good Lord, yonders foule Murthers
done

   Oth. What? now?
Aemil. But now, my Lord

   Oth. It is the very error of the Moone,
She comes more neerer Earth then she was wont,
And makes men mad.
Aemil. Cassio, my Lord, hath kill'd
A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo

   Oth. Rodorigo kill'd? and Cassio kill'd?
Aemil. No, Cassio is not kill'd

   Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then Murther's out of tune,
And sweet Reuenge growes harsh

   Des. O falsely, falsely murder'd.
Aemil. Alas! what cry is that?
  Oth. That? What?
Aemil. Out, and alas, that was my Ladies voice.
Helpe, helpe hoa, helpe. Oh Ladie speake againe,
Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet Mistris, speake

   Des. A guiltlesse death, I dye.
Aemil. Oh who hath done this deed?
  Des. No body: I my selfe, farewell:
Commend me to my kinde Lord: oh farewell

   Oth. Why, how should she be murdred?
Aemil. Alas: who knowes?
  Oth. You heare her say her selfe, it was not I.
Aemil. She said so: I must needs report the truth

   Oth. She's like a Liar gone to burning hell,
'Twas I that kill'd her.
Aemil. Oh the more Angell she, and you the blacker
Diuell

   Oth. She turn'd to folly: and she was a whore.
Aemil. Thou do'st bely her, and thou art a diuell

   Oth. She was false as water.
Aemil. Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false. Oh she was heauenly true

   Oth. Cassio did top her: Ask thy husband else.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell:
But that I did proceed vpon iust grounds
To this extremity. Thy Husband knew it all.
Aemil. My Husband?
  Oth. Thy Husband.
Aemil. That she was false to Wedlocke?
  Oth. I, with Cassio: had she bin true,
If Heauen would make me such another world,
Of one entyre and perfect Chrysolite,
I'ld not haue sold her for it.
Aemil. My Husband?
  Oth. I, 'twas he that told me on her first,
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That stickes on filthy deeds.
Aemil. My Husband?
  Oth. What needs this itterance, Woman?
I say, thy Husband.
Aemil. Oh Mistris,
Villany hath made mockes with loue:
My Husband say she was false?
  Oth. He, Woman;
I say thy Husband: Do'st vnderstand the word?
My Friend, thy Husband; honest, honest Iago.
Aemil. If he say so, may his pernicious Soule
Rot halfe a graine a day: he lyes to'th' heart,
She was too fond of her most filthy Bargaine

   Oth. Hah?
Aemil. Do thy worst:
This deede of thine is no more worthy Heauen,
Then thou was't worthy her

   Oth. Peace, you were best.
Aemil. Thou hast not halfe that powre to do me harm,
As I haue to be hurt. Oh Gull, oh dolt,
As ignorant as durt: thou hast done a deed
(I care not for thy Sword) Ile make thee known,
Though I lost twenty liues. Helpe, helpe, hoa, helpe:
The Moore hath kill'd my Mistris. Murther, murther.
Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.

  Mon. What is the matter? How now Generall?
Aemil. Oh, are you come, Iago: you haue done well,
That men must lay their Murthers on your necke

   Gra. What is the matter?
Aemil. Disproue this Villaine, if thou bee'st a man:
He sayes, thou told'st him that his wife was false:
I know thou did'st not: thou'rt not such a Villain.
Speake, for my heart is full

   Iago. I told him what I thought,
And told no more
Then what he found himselfe was apt, and true.
Aemil. But did you euer tell him,
She was false?
  Iago. I did.
Aemil. You told a Lye an odious damned Lye:
Vpon my Soule, a Lye; a wicked Lye.
Shee false with Cassio?
Did you say with Cassio?
  Iago. With Cassio, Mistris?
Go too, charme your tongue

   Emil. I will not charme my Tongue;
I am bound to speake,
My Mistris heere lyes murthered in her bed

   All. Oh Heauens, forefend

   Emil. And your reports haue set the Murder on

   Othello. Nay stare not Masters,
It is true indeede

   Gra. 'Tis a strange Truth

   Mont. O monstrous Acte

   Emil. Villany, villany, villany:
I thinke vpon't, I thinke: I smel't: O Villany:
I thought so then: Ile kill my selfe for greefe.
O villany! villany!
  Iago. What, are you mad?
I charge you get you home

   Emil. Good Gentlemen, let me haue leaue to speake:
'Tis proper I obey him; but not now:
Perchance Iago, I will ne're go home

   Oth. Oh, oh, oh

   Emil. Nay, lay thee downe, and roare:
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent,
That ere did lift vp eye

   Oth. Oh she was fowle!
I scarse did know you Vnkle, there lies your Neece,
Whose breath (indeed) these hands haue newly stopp'd:
I know this acte shewes horrible and grim

   Gra. Poore Desdemon:
I am glad thy Father's dead,
Thy Match was mortall to him: and pure greefe
Shore his old thred in twaine. Did he liue now,
This sight would make him do a desperate turne:
Yea, curse his better Angell from his side,
And fall to Reprobance

   Oth. 'Tis pittifull: but yet Iago knowes
That she with Cassio, hath the Act of shame
A thousand times committed. Cassio confest it,
And she did gratifie his amorous workes
With that Recognizance and pledge of Loue
Which I first gaue her: I saw it in his hand:
It was a Handkerchiefe, an Antique Token
My Father gaue my Mother

   Emil. Oh Heauen! oh heauenly Powres!
  Iago. Come, hold your peace

   Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace?
No, I will speake as liberall as the North;
Let Heauen, and Men, and Diuels, let them all,
All, all, crie shame against me, yet Ile speake

   Iago. Be wise, and get you home

   Emil. I will not

   Gra. Fye, your Sword vpon a Woman

   Emil. Oh thou dull Moore,
That Handkerchiefe thou speak'st of
I found by Fortune, and did giue my Husband:
For often, with a solemne earnestnesse,
(More then indeed belong'd to such a Trifle)
He begg'd of me, to steale't

   Iago. Villanous Whore

   Emil. She giue it Cassio? No, alas I found it,
And I did giu't my Husband

   Iago. Filth, thou lyest

   Emil. By Heauen I do not, I do not Gentlemen:
Oh murd'rous Coxcombe, what should such a Foole
Do with so good a wife?
  Oth. Are there no stones in Heauen,
But what serues for the Thunder?
Precious Villaine

   Gra. The woman falles:
Sure he hath kill'd his Wife

   Emil. I, I: oh lay me by my Mistris side

   Gra. Hee's gone, but his wife's kill'd

   Mon. 'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon
Which I haue recouer'd from the Moore:
Come guard the doore without, let him not passe,
But kill him rather. Ile after that same villaine,
For 'tis a damned Slaue.
Enter.

  Oth. I am not valiant neither:
But euery Punie whipster gets my Sword.
But why should Honor out-liue Honesty?
Let it go all.
Aemil. What did thy Song boad Lady?
Hearke, canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan,
And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough.
Moore, she was chaste: She lou'd thee, cruell Moore,
So come my Soule to blisse, as I speake true:
So speaking as I thinke, alas, I dye

   Oth. I haue another weapon in this Chamber,
It was a Sword of Spaine, the Ice brookes temper:
Oh heere it is: Vnkle I must come forth

   Gra. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee deere;
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer

   Oth. Looke in vpon me then, and speake with me,
Or naked as I am I will assault thee

   Gra. What is the matter?
  Othel. Behold, I haue a weapon:
A better neuer did it selfe sustaine
Vpon a Soldiers Thigh. I haue seene the day,
That with this little Arme, and this good Sword,
I haue made my way through more impediments
Then twenty times your stop. But (oh vaine boast)
Who can controll his Fate? 'Tis not so now.
Be not affraid, though you do see me weapon'd:
Heere is my iournies end, heere is my butt
And verie Sea-marke of my vtmost Saile.
Do you go backe dismaid? 'Tis a lost feare:
Man but a Rush against Othello's brest,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
Now: how dost thou looke now? Oh ill-Starr'd wench,
Pale as thy Smocke: when we shall meete at compt,
This looke of thine will hurle my Soule from Heauen,
And Fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girle?
Euen like thy Chastity. O cursed, cursed Slaue!
Whip me ye Diuels,
From the possession of this Heauenly sight:
Blow me about in windes, roast me in Sulphure,
Wash me in steepe-downe gulfes of Liquid fire.
Oh Desdemon! dead Desdemon: dead. Oh, oh!
Enter Lodouico, Cassio, Montano, and Iago, with Officers.

  Lod. Where is this rash, and most vnfortunate man?
  Oth. That's he that was Othello: heere I am