DESDEMONA
Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,
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If I have any grace or power to move you
His present reconciliation take:
For if he be not one that truly loves you,
That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
I have no judgement in an honest face.
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I prithee, call him back.
OTHELLO Went he hence now?
DESDEMONA Yes, faith, so humbled
That he hath left part of his grief with me
To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.
OTHELLO Not now, sweet Desdemon, some other time.
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DESDEMONA But shall’t be shortly?
OTHELLO The sooner, sweet, for you.
DESDEMONA Shall’t be tonight, at supper?
OTHELLO No, not tonight.
DESDEMONA Tomorrow dinner then?
OTHELLO I shall not dine at home.
I meet the captains at the citadel.
DESDEMONA
Why then, tomorrow night, or Tuesday morn;
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On Tuesday, noon or night; on Wednesday morn!
I prithee name the time, but let it not
Exceed three days: i’faith, he’s penitent,
And yet his trespass, in our common reason
– Save that they say the wars must make examples
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Out of their best – is not, almost, a fault
T’incur a private check. When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul
What you would ask me that I should deny
Or stand so mamm’ring on? What, Michael Cassio
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That came a-wooing with you? and so many a time
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly
Hath ta’en your part, to have so much to do
To bring him in? By’r lady, I could do much! –
OTHELLO
Prithee, no more. Let him come when he will,
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I will deny thee nothing.
DESDEMONA Why, this is not a boon,
’Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
To your own person. Nay, when I have a suit
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Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed
It shall be full of poise and difficult weight
And fearful to be granted.
OTHELLO I will deny thee nothing.
Whereon I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.
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DESDEMONA Shall I deny you? No, farewell, my lord.
OTHELLO
Farewell, my Desdemona, I’ll come to thee straight.
DESDEMONA
Emilia, come. – Be as your fancies teach you:
Whate’er you be, I am obedient.
Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.
OTHELLO Excellent wretch! perdition catch my soul
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But I do love thee! and when I love thee not
Chaos is come again.
IAGO My noble lord –
OTHELLO What dost thou say, Iago?
IAGO Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my lady,
Know of your love?
OTHELLO He did, from first to last.
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Why dost thou ask?
IAGO But for a satisfaction of my thought,
No further harm.
OTHELLO Why of thy thought, Iago?
IAGO I did not think he had been acquainted with her.
OTHELLO O yes, and went between us very oft.
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IAGO Indeed?
OTHELLO
Indeed? Ay, indeed. Discern’st thou aught in that?
Is he not honest?
IAGO Honest, my lord?
OTHELLO Honest? Ay, honest.
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IAGO My lord, for aught I know.
OTHELLO What dost thou think?
IAGO Think, my lord?
OTHELLO Think, my lord! By heaven, thou echo’st me
As if there were some monster in thy thought
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Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something,
I heard thee say even now thou lik’st not that
When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?
And when I told thee he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst ‘Indeed?’
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And didst contract and purse thy brow together
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me
Show me thy thought.
IAGO My lord, you know I love you.
OTHELLO I think thou dost.
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And for I know thou’rt full of love and honesty
And weigh’st thy words before thou giv’st them breath,
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more.
For such things in a false disloyal knave
Are tricks of custom, but in a man that’s just
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They’re close delations, working from the heart,
That passion cannot rule.
IAGO For Michael Cassio,
I dare be sworn, I think, that he is honest.
OTHELLO I think so too.
IAGO Men should be what they seem,
Or those that be not, would they might seem none.
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OTHELLO Certain, men should be what they seem.
IAGO Why then I think Cassio’s an honest man.
OTHELLO Nay, yet there’s more in this:
I prithee speak to me, as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
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The worst of words.
IAGO Good my lord, pardon me;
Though I am bound to every act of duty
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to –
Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false?
As where’s that palace whereinto foul things
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Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure
But some uncleanly apprehensions
Keep leets and law-days and in session sit
With meditations lawful?
OTHELLO Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
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If thou but think’st him wronged and mak’st his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.
IAGO I do beseech you,
Though I perchance am vicious in my guess
– As I confess it is my nature’s plague
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
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Shapes faults that are not – that your wisdom
From one that so imperfectly conceits
Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance:
It were not for your quiet nor your good
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Nor for my manhood, honesty and wisdom
To let you know my thoughts.
OTHELLO Zounds! What dost thou mean?
IAGO Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash – ’tis something-nothing,
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’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands –
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.
OTHELLO By heaven, I’ll know thy thoughts!
IAGO You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,
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Nor shall not whilst ’tis in my custody.
OTHELLO Ha!
IAGO O beware, my lord, of jealousy!
It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger,
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But O, what damned minutes tells he o’er
Who dotes yet doubts, suspects yet strongly loves!
OTHELLO O misery!
IAGO Poor and content is rich, and rich enough,
But riches fineless is as poor as winter
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To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy.
OTHELLO Why – why is this?
Think’st thou I’d make a life of jealousy
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To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in doubt
Is once to be resolved. Exchange me for a goat
When I shall turn the business of my soul
To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
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Matching thy inference. ’Tis not to make me jealous
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well:
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous.
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
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The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt,
For she had eyes and chose me. No, Iago,
I’ll see before I doubt, when I doubt, prove,
And on the proof there is no more but this:
Away at once with love or jealousy!
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IAGO I am glad of this, for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,
Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof:
Look to your wife, observe her well with Cassio.
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Wear your eyes thus, not jealous nor secure;
I would not have your free and noble nature
Out of self-bounty be abused: look to’t.
I know our country disposition well –
In Venice they do let God see the pranks
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They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience
Is not to leave’t undone, but keep’t unknown.
OTHELLO Dost thou say so?
IAGO She did deceive her father, marrying you,
And when she seemed to shake, and fear your looks,
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She loved them most.
OTHELLO And so she did.
IAGO Why, go to then:
She that so young could give out such a seeming
To seel her father’s eyes up, close as oak –
He thought ’twas witchcraft. But I am much to blame,
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
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For too much loving you.
OTHELLO I am bound to thee for ever.
IAGO I see this hath a little dashed your spirits.
OTHELLO Not a jot, not a jot.
IAGO I’faith, I fear it has.
I hope you will consider what is spoke
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Comes from my love. But I do see you’re moved;
I am to pray you not to strain my speech
To grosser issues nor to larger reach
Than to suspicion.
OTHELLO I will not.
IAGO Should you do so, my lord,
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My speech should fall into such vile success
As my thoughts aimed not at: Cassio’s my worthy
friend.
My lord, I see you’re moved.
OTHELLO No, not much moved.
I do not think but Desdemona’s honest.
IAGO Long live she so; and long live you to think so.
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OTHELLO And yet how nature, erring from itself –
IAGO Ay, there’s the point: as, to be bold with you,
Not to affect many proposed matches
Of her own clime, complexion and degree,
Whereto we see, in all things, nature tends –
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Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural.
But pardon me, I do not in position
Distinctly speak of her, though I may fear
Her will, recoiling to her better judgement,
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May fall to match you with her country forms,
And happily repent.
OTHELLO Farewell, farewell.
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more:
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 420
