Oth.

Pray, chuck, come hither.

Des. What is your pleasure?

Oth. Look in

Let me see your eyes;

my face.

Des.

What horrible fancy's this?

Oth. Some of your function, mistress; [To EMILIA. 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 import? I understand a fury in your words,

But not the words.

Oth. Why, what art thou?

Des.

And loyal wife.

Oth.

Your wife, my lord; your true

Come, swear it, damn thyself;

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double-damn'd,

Des.

Heaven doth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as hell. 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 Why, I have lost him too.

Oth.

have lost him,

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 soul
A drop of patience: but (alas!) to make me

A fixed figure, for the time of scorn
To point his slow unmoving finger at,
O! O!

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! 5

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 had'st 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! O thou publick 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 !

4

Des.

By heaven, you do me wrong.

· garner'd up my heart;] That is, treasured up: the garner and the fountain are improperly conjoined.

5

turn thy complexion there! &c.] At such an object do thou, patience, thyself change colour; at this do thou, even thou, rosy cherub as thou art, look as grim as hell.

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?
Des.

Oth. Is it possible?

Des. O, heaven forgive us!

Oth.

No, as I shall be saved.

I cry you mercy, then:

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
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 lord?
Des. With who?

Emil.

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. Pr'ythee, to-night
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, remember;-
And call thy husband hither.

Emil.

Here is a change, indeed

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

[Exit.

Re-enter EMILIA, with IAGO.

Iago. What is your pleasure, madam? How is it with you?

Des. I cannot tell. Those, that do teach young babes, Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks:

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

Iago.

What's the matter, lady?

Emil. Alas, Iago, 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?

Iago.

What name, fair lady? Des. Such as, she says, my lord did say I 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. Iago. 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 call'd-whore? would it not make one weep? Des. It is my wretched fortune. Iago.

How comes this trick upon him?

Des.

Beshrew him for it!

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. Fye, there is no such man; it is impossible. Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him!

6-

upon his callet.] Callet is a lewd woman; so called (says Dr. Grey) from the French calote, which was a sort of head-dress worn by country girls.

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 likelihood?
The Moor's abus'd 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 rascal naked through the world,
Even from the east to the west!

Speak within door.

Iago.
Emil. O, fye upon him! some such squire he was,
That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,

And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
Iago. You are a fool; go to.

Des.

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

7— such companions-] Companion, in the time of Shakspeare, was used as a word of contempt, in the same sense as fellow is at this day.

8 Speak within door.] Do not clamour so as to be heard beyond the house.

9

the seamy side without,] That is, inside out.