I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other,
Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch have put this in your head,
Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!
For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
Is foul as slander.
Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?
Am I the motive 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 pleased heaven
To try me with affliction, had they 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 place of my soul
A drop of patience; but, alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the time for scorn
To point his slow unmoving 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!
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!
Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
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?
I cry you mercy then;
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello. [Raises his voice.] You, mistress,
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell!
I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia;
I cannot weep, nor answer have I none
But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets. Remember,
And call thy husband hither.
If any such there be, heaven pardon him!
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 likelihood?
The Moor's abused by some most villainous knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold,
And put in every honest hand a whip
To lash the rascals naked through the world
Even from the east to the west!
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 doth 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.
I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humor:
The business of the state does him offense,
And he does chide with you.
Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and
rather, as it seems to me now, keepest 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.
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 hath
received them and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden
respect and acquaintance; but I find none.
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.
Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of
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
I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is
not without wit and judgement. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that
in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than
ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valor, this night show it; if
thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from
this world with treachery and devise engines for my life.
Well, what is it? Is it within reason and compass?
Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute
Cassio in Othello's place.
Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona return again
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
Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups
tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him. He knows
not yet of his honorable fortune. If you will watch his going
thence, which his 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.