She's gone. I am abused; and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones;
Prerogatived are they less than the base;
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
Even then this forked plague is fated to us When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:
Re-enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!
I'll not believe't. DESDEMONA How now, my dear Othello!
Your dinner, and the generous islanders By you invited, do attend your presence. OTHELLO I am to blame. DESDEMONA Why do you speak so faintly?
Are you not well? OTHELLO I have a pain upon my forehead here. DESDEMONA 'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again:
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour It will be well. OTHELLO Your napkin is too little:
He puts the handkerchief from him; and it drops Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. DESDEMONA I am very sorry that you are not well.
Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA EMILIA I am glad I have found this napkin:
This was her first remembrance from the Moor:
My wayward husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token, For he conjured her she should ever keep it, That she reserves it evermore about her To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out, And give't Iago: what he will do with it Heaven knows, not I;
I nothing but to please his fantasy.
Re-enter Iago IAGO How now! what do you here alone? EMILIA Do not you chide; I have a thing for you. IAGO A thing for me? it is a common thing-- EMILIA Ha! IAGO To have a foolish wife. EMILIA O, is that all? What will you give me now For the same handkerchief? IAGO What handkerchief? EMILIA What handkerchief?
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
That which so often you did bid me steal. IAGO Hast stol'n it from her? EMILIA No, 'faith; she let it drop by negligence.
And, to the advantage, I, being here, took't up.
Look, here it is. IAGO A good wench; give it me. EMILIA What will you do with 't, that you have been so earnest To have me filch it? IAGO [Snatching it] Why, what's that to you? EMILIA If it be not for some purpose of import, Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad When she shall lack it. IAGO Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it.
Go, leave me.
Exit EMILIA
I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin, And let him find it. Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison:
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons.
Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act upon the blood.
Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so:
Look, where he comes!
Re-enter OTHELLO
Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou owedst yesterday. OTHELLO Ha! ha! false to me? IAGO Why, how now, general! no more of that. OTHELLO Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:
I swear 'tis better to be much abused Than but to know't a little. IAGO How now, my lord! OTHELLO What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?
I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n, Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all. IAGO I am sorry to hear this. OTHELLO I had been happy, if the general camp, Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit, Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone! IAGO Is't possible, my lord? OTHELLO Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof:
Or by the worth of man's eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my waked wrath! IAGO Is't come to this? OTHELLO Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it, That the probation bear no hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life! IAGO My noble lord,-- OTHELLO If thou dost slander her and torture me, Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horror's head horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
