LODOVICO

Truly, an obedient lady.

I do beseech your lordship call her back.

OTHELLO Mistress!

DESDEMONA (returning) My lord?

OTHELLO (to Lodovico) What would you with her, sir?

LODOVICO Who, I, my lord?

OTHELLO

Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn.

Sir; she can turn and turn, and yet go on

And turn again, and she can weep, sir, weep,

And she’s obedient, as you say, obedient,

Very obedient. (To Desdemona) Proceed you in your

tears.

(To Lodovico) Concerning this, sir—(To Desdemona) O

well painted passion!

(To Lodovico) I am commanded home. (To Desdemona)

Get you away.

I’ll send for you anon. (To Lodovico) Sir, I obey the

mandate,

And will return to Venice. (To Desdemona) Hence,

avaunt!

Exit Desdemona

(To Lodovico) Cassio shall have my place, and, sir,

tonight

I do entreat that we may sup together.

You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!

Exit

LODOVICO

Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate

Call all-in-all sufficient? Is this the nature

Whom passion could not shake, whose solid virtue

The shot of accident nor dart of chance

Could neither graze nor pierce?

IAGO He is much changed.

LODOVICO

Are his wits safe? Is he not light of brain?

IAGO

He’s that he is. I may not breathe my censure

What he might be. If what he might he is not,

I would to heaven he were.

LODOVICO What, strike his wife!

IAGO

Faith, that was not so well. Yet would I knew

That stroke would prove the worst.

LODOVICO Is it his use,

Or did the letters work upon his blood

And new-create his fault?

IAGOAlas, alas.

It is not honesty in me to speak

What I have seen and known. You shall observe him,

And his own courses will denote him so

That I may save my speech. Do but go after,

And mark how he continues.

LODOVICO

I am sorry that I am deceived in him.

Exeunt

4.2 Enter Othello and Emilia

OTHELLO You have seen nothing then?

EMILIA

Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.

OTHELLO

Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.

EMILIA

But then I saw no harm, and then I heard

Each syllable that breath made up between ’em.

OTHELLO What, did they never whisper?

EMILIA Never, my lord.

OTHELLO Nor send you out o’th’ way?

EMILIA Never.

OTHELLO

To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?

EMILIA Never, my lord.

OTHELLO That’s strange.

EMILIA

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 ha’ 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.

OTHELLO Bid her come hither. Go.

Exit Emilia

She says enough, yet she’s a simple bawd

That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,

A closet lock and key of villainous secrets,

And yet she’ll kneel and pray—I ha’ seen her do’t.

Enter Desdemona and Emilia

DESDEMONA

My lord, what is your will?

OTHELLO Pray you, chuck, come hither.

DESDEMONA

What is your pleasure?

OTHELLO Let me see your eyes.

Look in my face.

DESDEMONA What horrible fancy’s this?

OTHELLO (to Emilia) Some of your function, mistress.

Leave procreants alone, and shut the door,

Cough or cry ‘Hem’ if anybody come.

Your mystery, your mystery—nay, dispatch.

Exit Emilia

DESDEMONA

Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?

I understand a fury in your words,

But not the words.

OTHELLO Why, what art thou?

DESDEMONA

Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife.

OTHELLO Come, swear it, damn thyself,

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves

Should fear to seize thee. Therefore be double-damned:

Swear thou art honest.

DESDEMONA Heaven doth truly know it. 40

OTHELLO

Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.

DESDEMONA

To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I false?

OTHELLO (weeping)

Ah, Desdemon, away, away, away!

DESDEMONA

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,

I have lost him too.

OTHELLO Had it pleased God

To try me with affliction; had He rained

All kind of sores and shames on my bare head,

Steeped 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

The fixed figure for the time of scorn

To point his slow and moving finger at—

Yet could I bear that too, well, very well.

But there where I have garnered 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-lipped cherubin,