Ay, here look grim as hell.

DESDEMONA

I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

OTHELLO

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!

DESDEMONA

Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

OTHELLO

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 hushed within the hollow mine of earth

And will not hear’t. What committed?

DESDEMONA By heaven, you do me wrong.

OTHELLO Are not you a strumpet?

DESDEMONA 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.

OTHELLO

What, not a whore?

DESDEMONA No, as I shall be saved.

OTHELLO Is’t possible?

DESDEMONA O heaven forgive us!

OTHELLO I cry you mercy then.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice

That married with Othello. (Calling) You, mistress,

That have the office opposite to Saint Peter

And keeps the gate of hell,

Enter Emilia

you, you, ay, you.

We ha’ done our course. (Giving money) There’s

money for your pains.

I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel.

Exit

EMILIA

Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?

How do you, madam? How do you, my good lady?

DESDEMONA Faith, half asleep.

EMILIA

Good madam, what’s the matter with my lord?

DESDEMONA

With who?

EMILIA Why, with my lord, madam.

DESDEMONA

Who is thy lord?

EMILIA He that is yours, sweet lady.

DESDEMONA

I ha’ none. Do not talk to me, Emilia.

I cannot weep, nor answers have I none

But what should go by water. Prithee tonight

Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, remember.

And call thy husband hither.

EMILIA Here’s a change indeed.

Exit

DESDEMONA

‘Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.

How have I been behaved, that he might stick

The small’st opinion on my least misuse?

Enter Iago and Emilia,

IAGO

What is your pleasure, madam? How is’t with you?

DESDEMONA

I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes

Do it with gentle means and easy tasks.

He might ha’ chid me so, for, in good faith,

I am a child to chiding.

IAGO What is the matter, lady?

EMILIA

Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her,

Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,

That true hearts cannot bear it.

DESDEMONA Am I that name, Iago?

IAGO What name, fair lady?

DESDEMONA

Such as she said my lord did say I was.

EMILIA

He called her whore. A beggar in his drink

Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.

IAGO Why did he so?

DESDEMONA

I do not know. I am sure I am none such.

IAGO

Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!

EMILIA

Hath she forsook so many noble matches,

Her father and her country and her friends,

To be called whore? Would it not make one weep?

DESDEMONA

It is my wretched fortune.

IAGO Beshrew him for’t.

How comes this trick upon him?

DESDEMONA Nay, heaven doth know.

EMILIA

I will be hanged if some eternal villain,

Some busy and insinuating rogue,

Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,

Have not devised this slander. I will be hanged else.

IAGO

Fie, there is no such man. It is impossible.

DESDEMONA

If any such there be, heaven pardon him.

EMILIA

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’dst unfold,

And put in every honest hand a whip

To lash the rascals naked through the world,

Even from the east to th’ west!

IAGO Speak within door.

EMILIA

O, fie upon them. Some such squire he was

That turned your wit the seamy side without,

And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

IAGO

You are a fool. Go to.

DESDEMONA O God, 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.

She kneels

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.

[She rises]

I cannot say ‘whore’.

It does 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.

IAGO

I pray you, be content. ’Tis but his humour.