Imatges de pÓgina

Oth. Some of your function, mistress ; (To Emil. Leave procreants alone, and shut the door; Cough, or cry-hem, if any body come : Your mystery, your mystery ;-nay, despatch.

(Exit Emilia. Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech

I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words.

Oth. Why, what art thou?

Your wife, my lord; your true
And loyal wife.

Come, swear it, damn thyself; Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double

damn'd, Swear-thou art honest. Des.

Heaven doth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as

Des. To whom, my lord ? with whom? How am

I false?
Oth. O Desdemona !_away! away! away!

Des. Alas, the heavy day! Why do you weep?
Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord ?
If, haply, you my father do suspect,
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.

Had it pleas'd heaven To try me with affliction; had he rain'd All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head; Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips; Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; I should have found in some part of my 'A drop of patience : but (alas !) to make me A fixed figure, for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at,0!0! 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 cherubim ;
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 !-0 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?

No, as I shall be saved.
Oth. Is it possible?
Des. O, heaven forgive us !

I cry you mercy, then; I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,

(1) Treasured up

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.
Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with my

Des. With who?

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 I have none, But what should go by water. Prythee, to-night Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, - remember; And call thy husband hither.

Emil. Here is a change, indeed! (Exit.

Des. 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet. How have I been behav'd, that he might stick The small'st opinion on my great'st abuse?

Re-enter Emilia, with Iago. lago. What is your pleasure, madam? How is

it with you? Des. I cannot tell. Those, that do teach young

Do it with gentle means,


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

What's the matter, lady? Emil. Alas, lago, 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 ? lago.

What name, fair lady? Des. Such as,

says, my lord did


was. Emil. He call'd her, whore; a beggar, in his

drink, Could not have laid such terms upon his callet."

Iago. Why did he so? Des. I do not know; I am sure, I am none such. lago. 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 callid-whore? would it not make one weep?

Des. It is my wretched fortune. lago.

Beshrew him for it! How comes the 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

company? What place? what time? what form? what like

The Moor's abus'd by some most villanous knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow :
O, heaven, that such companions2 thou'dst unfold;


honest hand a whip,
To lash the rascal naked through the world,
Even from the east to the west!

Speak within door. Emil. O, fie upon him! some such squire he was, That turn'd

wit the

side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

(1) His drab. (2) Fellows. (3) Inside out.

And put

Iago. You are a fool; go to.

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 additionl earn,
Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.

lago. 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, lago. It is but so, I warrant you. [Trumpets. Hark, how these instruments summon to supper! And the great messengers of Venice stay : Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.

(Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.

Enter Roderigo. How now, Roderigo?

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

Rod. Every day thou doff'st me2 with some device, lago; 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 (1) Title.

(2) Putt'st me of


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