Othello
I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a
touch of his nether lip.
DESDEMONA.
[_Singing._]
_The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
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 moans,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften’d the stones;—_
Lay by these:—
[_Sings._]
_Sing willow, willow, willow._
Prithee hie thee. He’ll come anon.
[_Sings._]
_Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve,—_
Nay, that’s not next. Hark! who is’t that knocks?
EMILIA.
It’s the wind.
DESDEMONA.
[_Sings._]
_I call’d my love false love; but what said he then?
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?
EMILIA.
’Tis neither here nor there.
DESDEMONA.
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?
EMILIA.
There be some such, no question.
DESDEMONA.
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EMILIA.
Why, would not you?
DESDEMONA.
No, by this heavenly light!
EMILIA.
Nor I neither by this heavenly light,
I might do’t as well i’ the dark.
DESDEMONA.
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EMILIA.
The world’s a huge thing. It is a great price
For a small vice.
DESDEMONA.
In troth, I think thou wouldst not.
EMILIA.
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, nor any petty exhibition; but, for the
whole world—why, who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a
monarch? I should venture purgatory for ’t.
DESDEMONA.
Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong for the whole world.
EMILIA.
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.
DESDEMONA.
I do not think there is any such woman.
EMILIA.
Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would store the world they
played 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 so.
DESDEMONA.
Good night, good night. Heaven me such usage send,
Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!
[_Exeunt._]
ACT V
SCENE I. Cyprus. A Street.
Enter Iago and Roderigo.
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 be at thy elbow.
It makes us, or it mars us, think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.
RODERIGO.
Be near at hand, I may miscarry in ’t.
IAGO.
Here, at thy hand. Be bold, and take thy stand.
[_Retires to a little distance._]
RODERIGO.
I have no great devotion to the deed;
And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons.
’Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword; he dies.
[_Goes to his stand._]
IAGO.
I have rubb’d this young quat almost to the sense,
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain. Live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold and jewels that I bobb’d from him,
As gifts to Desdemona.
It must not be. If Cassio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life
That makes me ugly. And besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril.
No, he must die. But so, I hear him coming.
Enter Cassio.
RODERIGO.
I know his gait; ’tis he. Villain, thou diest!
[_Rushes out, and makes a pass at Cassio._]
CASSIO.
That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou know’st.
I will make proof of thine.
[_Draws, and wounds Roderigo._]
RODERIGO.
O, I am slain!
[_Iago rushes from his post, cuts Cassio behind in the leg, and exit._]
CASSIO.
I am maim’d forever. Help, ho! murder, murder!
[_Falls._]
Enter Othello.
OTHELLO.
The voice of Cassio. Iago keeps his word.
RODERIGO.
O, villain that I am!
OTHELLO.
It is even so.
CASSIO.
O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!
OTHELLO.
’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 unbless’d 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._]
Enter Lodovico and Gratiano.
CASSIO.
What, ho! No watch? No passage? murder, murder!
GRATIANO.
’Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.
CASSIO.
O, help!
LODOVICO.
Hark!
RODERIGO.
O wretched villain!
LODOVICO.
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.
RODERIGO.
Nobody come? Then shall I bleed to death.
Enter Iago with a light.
LODOVICO.
Hark!
GRATIANO.
Here’s one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.
IAGO.
Who’s there? Whose noise is this that cries on murder?
LODOVICO.
We do not know.
IAGO.
Did not you hear a cry?
CASSIO.
Here, here! for heaven’s sake, help me!
IAGO.
What’s the matter?
GRATIANO.
This is Othello’s ancient, as I take it.
LODOVICO.
The same indeed, a very valiant fellow.
IAGO.
What are you here that cry so grievously?
CASSIO.
Iago? O, I am spoil’d, undone by villains!
Give me some help.
IAGO.
O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this?
CASSIO.
I think that one of them is hereabout,
And cannot make away.
IAGO.
O treacherous villains!
[_To Lodovico and Gratiano._] What are you there?
Come in and give some help.
RODERIGO.
O, help me here!
CASSIO.
That’s one of them.
IAGO.
O murderous slave! O villain!
[_Stabs Roderigo._]
RODERIGO.
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?
LODOVICO.
As you shall prove us, praise us.
IAGO.
Signior Lodovico?
LODOVICO.
He, sir.
IAGO.
I cry you mercy. Here’s Cassio hurt by villains.
GRATIANO.
Cassio!
IAGO.
How is’t, brother?
CASSIO.
My leg is cut in two.
IAGO.
Marry, heaven forbid!
Light, gentlemen, I’ll bind it with my shirt.
Enter Bianca.
BIANCA.
What is the matter, ho? Who is’t that cried?
IAGO.
Who is’t that cried?
BIANCA.
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?
CASSIO.
No.
GRATIANO.
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!
BIANCA.
Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
IAGO.
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
To be a party in this injury.
Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
Lend me a light. Know we this face or no?
Alas, my friend and my dear countryman
Roderigo? No. Yes, sure; O heaven! Roderigo.
GRATIANO.
What, of Venice?
IAGO.
Even he, sir. Did you know him?
GRATIANO.
Know him? Ay.
IAGO.
Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon.
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
That so neglected you.
GRATIANO.
I am glad to see you.
IAGO.
How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair!
GRATIANO.
Roderigo!
IAGO.
He, he, ’tis he.
[_A chair brought in._]
O, that’s well said; the chair.
Some good man bear him carefully from hence,
I’ll fetch the general’s surgeon. [_To Bianca_] For you, mistress,
Save you your labour. He that lies slain here, Cassio,
Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?
CASSIO.
None in the world. Nor do I know the man.
IAGO.
[_To Bianca._] What, look you pale?—O, bear him out o’ the air.
[_Cassio and Roderigo are borne off._]
Stay you, good gentlemen.—Look you pale, mistress?
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?
Nay, if you stare, 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.
EMILIA.
’Las, 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.
EMILIA.
Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!
IAGO.
This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supp’d tonight.
What, do you shake at that?
BIANCA.
He supp’d at my house, but I therefore shake not.
IAGO.
O, did he so? I charge you go with me.
EMILIA.
Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!
BIANCA.
I am no strumpet, but of life as honest
As you that thus abuse me.
EMILIA.
As I? Foh! fie upon thee!
IAGO.
Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dress’d.
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 afore? [_Aside._] This is the night
That either makes me or fordoes me quite.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE II. Cyprus. A Bedchamber in the castle.
Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning.
Enter Othello.
OTHELLO.
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 thy rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again,
It must needs 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.
DESDEMONA.
Who’s there? Othello?
OTHELLO.
Ay, Desdemona.
DESDEMONA.
Will you come to bed, my lord?
OTHELLO.
Have you pray’d tonight, Desdemona?
DESDEMONA.
Ay, my lord.
OTHELLO.
If you bethink yourself of any crime
Unreconcil’d as yet to heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.
DESDEMONA.
Alack, my lord, what may you mean by that?
OTHELLO.
Well, do it, and be brief, I will walk by.
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit,
No, heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.
DESDEMONA.
Talk you of killing?
OTHELLO.
Ay, I do.
DESDEMONA.
Then heaven have mercy on me!
OTHELLO.
Amen, with all my heart!