Othello by William Shakespeare
Act 3 - Scene 4
Before the castle.
Desdemona : Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?
Clown : I dare not say he lies any where.
Desdemona : Why, man?
Clown : He's a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies,
[p]is stabbing.
Desdemona : Go to: where lodges he?
Clown : To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie.
Desdemona : Can any thing be made of this?
Clown : I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a
[p]lodging and say
he lies here or he lies there, were
[p]to lie in mine own throat.
Desdemona : Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?
Clown : I will catechise the world for him; that is, make
[p]questions, and by
them answer.
Desdemona : Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have
[p]moved my lord on his
behalf, and hope all will be well.
Clown : To do this is within the compass of man's wit: and
[p]therefore I will
attempt the doing it.
Desdemona : Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?
Emilia : I know not, madam.
Desdemona : Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
[p]Full of crusadoes: and,
but my noble Moor
[p]Is true of mind and made of no such
baseness
[p]As jealous creatures are, it were enough
[p]To put him to
ill thinking.
Emilia : Is he not jealous?
Desdemona : Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
[p]Drew all such humours
from him.
Emilia : Look, where he comes.
Desdemona : I will not leave him now till Cassio
[p]Be call'd to him.
[p][Enter
OTHELLO]
[p]How is't with you, my lord
Othello : Well, my good lady.
[p][Aside]
[p]O, hardness to dissemble!--
[p]How
do you, Desdemona?
Desdemona : Well, my good lord.
Othello : Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.
Desdemona : It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.
Othello : This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:
[p]Hot, hot, and moist:
this hand of yours requires
[p]A sequester from liberty, fasting and
prayer,
[p]Much castigation, exercise devout;
[p]For here's a young
and sweating devil here,
[p]That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good
hand,
[p]A frank one.
Desdemona : You may, indeed, say so;
[p]For 'twas that hand that gave away my
heart.
Othello : A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;
[p]But our new heraldry
is hands, not hearts.
Desdemona : I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.
Othello : What promise, chuck?
Desdemona : I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
Othello : I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;
[p]Lend me thy
handkerchief.
Desdemona : Here, my lord.
Othello : That which I gave you.
Desdemona : I have it not about me.
Othello : Not?
Desdemona : No, indeed, my lord.
Othello : That is a fault.
[p]That handkerchief
[p]Did an Egyptian to my mother
give;
[p]She was a charmer, and could almost read
[p]The thoughts of
people: she told her, while
[p]she kept it,
[p]'Twould make her
amiable and subdue my father
[p]Entirely to her love, but if she lost
it
[p]Or made gift of it, my father's eye
[p]Should hold her loathed
and his spirits should hunt
[p]After new fancies: she, dying, gave it
me;
[p]And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
[p]To give it her.
I did so: and take heed on't;
[p]Make it a darling like your precious
eye;
[p]To lose't or give't away were such perdition
[p]As nothing
else could match.
Desdemona : Is't possible?
Othello : 'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it:
[p]A sibyl, that had
number'd in the world
[p]The sun to course two hundred
compasses,
[p]In her prophetic fury sew'd the work;
[p]The worms were
hallow'd that did breed the silk;
[p]And it was dyed in mummy which
the skilful
[p]Conserved of maidens' hearts.
Desdemona : Indeed! is't true?
Othello : Most veritable; therefore look to't well.
Desdemona : Then would to God that I had never seen't!
Othello : Ha! wherefore?
Desdemona : Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
Othello : Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out
[p]o' the way?
Desdemona : Heaven bless us!
Othello : Say you?
Desdemona : It is not lost; but what an if it were?
Othello : How!
Desdemona : I say, it is not lost.
Othello : Fetch't, let me see't.
Desdemona : Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.
[p]This is a trick to put me
from my suit:
[p]Pray you, let Cassio be received again.
Othello : Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives.
Desdemona : Come, come;
[p]You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
Othello : The handkerchief!
Desdemona : I pray, talk me of Cassio.
Othello : The handkerchief!
Desdemona : A man that all his time
[p]Hath founded his good fortunes on your
love,
[p]Shared dangers with you,--
Othello : The handkerchief!
Desdemona : In sooth, you are to blame.
Othello : Away!
Emilia : Is not this man jealous?
Desdemona : I ne'er saw this before.
[p]Sure, there's some wonder in this
handkerchief:
[p]I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
Emilia : 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:
[p]They are all but stomachs,
and we all but food;
[p]To eat us hungerly, and when they are
full,
[p]They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband!
Iago : There is no other way; 'tis she must do't:
[p]And, lo, the happiness!
go, and importune her.
Desdemona : How now, good Cassio! what's the news with you?
Cassio : Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you
[p]That by your virtuous means
I may again
[p]Exist, and be a member of his love
[p]Whom I with all
the office of my heart
[p]Entirely honour: I would not be
delay'd.
[p]If my offence be of such mortal kind
[p]That nor my
service past, nor present sorrows,
[p]Nor purposed merit in
futurity,
[p]Can ransom me into his love again,
[p]But to know so must
be my benefit;
[p]So shall I clothe me in a forced content,
[p]And
shut myself up in some other course,
[p]To fortune's alms.
Desdemona : Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio!
[p]My advocation is not now in tune;
[p]My
lord is not my lord; nor should I know him,
[p]Were he in favour as in
humour alter'd.
[p]So help me every spirit sanctified,
[p]As I have
spoken for you all my best
[p]And stood within the blank of his
displeasure
[p]For my free speech! you must awhile be patient:
[p]What
I can do I will; and more I will
[p]Than for myself I dare: let that
suffice you.
Iago : Is my lord angry?
Emilia : He went hence but now,
[p]And certainly in strange unquietness.
Iago : Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon,
[p]When it hath blown his
ranks into the air,
[p]And, like the devil, from his very
arm
[p]Puff'd his own brother:--and can he be angry?
[p]Something of
moment then: I will go meet him:
[p]There's matter in't indeed, if he
be angry.
Desdemona : I prithee, do so.
[p][Exit IAGO]
[p]Something, sure, of
state,
[p]Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practise
[p]Made
demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
[p]Hath puddled his clear spirit:
and in such cases
[p]Men's natures wrangle with inferior
things,
[p]Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so;
[p]For
let our finger ache, and it indues
[p]Our other healthful members even
to that sense
[p]Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods,
[p]Nor
of them look for such observances
[p]As fit the bridal. Beshrew me
much, Emilia,
[p]I was, unhandsome warrior as I am,
[p]Arraigning his
unkindness with my soul;
[p]But now I find I had suborn'd the
witness,
[p]And he's indicted falsely.
Emilia : Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think,
[p]And no conception
nor no jealous toy
[p]Concerning you.
Desdemona : Alas the day! I never gave him cause.
Emilia : But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
[p]They are not ever
jealous for the cause,
[p]But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a
monster
[p]Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Desdemona : Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind!
Emilia : Lady, amen.
Desdemona : I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout:
[p]If I do find him fit,
I'll move your suit
[p]And seek to effect it to my uttermost.
Cassio : I humbly thank your ladyship.
Bianca : Save you, friend Cassio!
Cassio : What make you from home?
[p]How is it with you, my most fair
Bianca?
[p]I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.
Bianca : And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
[p]What, keep a week away?
seven days and nights?
[p]Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent
hours,
[p]More tedious than the dial eight score times?
[p]O weary
reckoning!
Cassio : Pardon me, Bianca:
[p]I have this while with leaden thoughts been
press'd:
[p]But I shall, in a more continuate time,
[p]Strike off this
score of absence. Sweet Bianca,
[p][Giving her DESDEMONA's
handkerchief]
[p]Take me this work out.
Bianca : O Cassio, whence came this?
[p]This is some token from a newer
friend:
[p]To the felt absence now I feel a cause:
[p]Is't come to
this? Well, well.
Cassio : Go to, woman!
[p]Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
[p]From
whence you have them. You are jealous now
[p]That this is from some
mistress, some remembrance:
[p]No, in good troth, Bianca.
Bianca : Why, whose is it?
Cassio : I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber.
[p]I like the work well:
ere it be demanded--
[p]As like enough it will--I'ld have it
copied:
[p]Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time.
Bianca : Leave you! wherefore?
Cassio : I do attend here on the general;
[p]And think it no addition, nor my
wish,
[p]To have him see me woman'd.
Bianca : Why, I pray you?
Cassio : Not that I love you not.
Bianca : But that you do not love me.
[p]I pray you, bring me on the way a
little,
[p]And say if I shall see you soon at night.
Cassio : 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you;
[p]For I attend here: but
I'll see you soon.
Bianca : 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced.
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Next: Act 4 - Scene 1
