Othello by William Shakespeare
Act 4 - Scene 3
Another room in the castle.
Lodovico : I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.
Othello : O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk.
Lodovico : Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.
Desdemona : Your honour is most welcome.
Othello : Will you walk, sir?
[p]O,--Desdemona,--
Desdemona : My lord?
Othello : Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned
[p]forthwith:
dismiss your attendant there: look it be done.
Desdemona : I will, my lord.
Emilia : How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.
Desdemona : He says he will return incontinent:
[p]He hath commanded me to go to
bed,
[p]And bade me to dismiss you.
Emilia : Dismiss me!
Desdemona : It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,.
[p]Give me my nightly
wearing, and adieu:
[p]We must not now displease him.
Emilia : I would you had never seen him!
Desdemona : So would not I. my love doth so approve him,
[p]That even his
stubbornness, his cheques, his frowns--
[p]Prithee, unpin me,--have
grace and favour in them.
Emilia : I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.
Desdemona : All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
[p]If I do die
before thee prithee, shroud me
[p]In one of those same sheets.
Emilia : Come, come you talk.
Desdemona : My mother had a maid call'd Barbara:
[p]She was in love, and he she
loved proved mad
[p]And did forsake her: she had a song of
'willow;'
[p]An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
[p]And
she died singing it: that song to-night
[p]Will not go from my mind; I
have much to do,
[p]But to go hang my head all at one side,
[p]And
sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.
Emilia : Shall I go fetch your night-gown?
Desdemona : No, unpin me here.
[p]This Lodovico is a proper man.
Emilia : A very handsome man.
Desdemona : He speaks well.
Emilia : I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot
[p]to Palestine for
a touch of his nether lip.
Desdemona : [Singing] The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
[p]Sing all a
green willow:
[p]Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
[p]Sing
willow, willow, willow:
[p]The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd
her moans;
[p]Sing willow, willow, willow;
[p]Her salt tears fell from
her, and soften'd the stones;
[p]Lay by these:--
[p][Singing]
[p]Sing
willow, willow, willow;
[p]Prithee, hie thee; he'll come
anon:--
[p][Singing]
[p]Sing all a green willow must be my
garland.
[p]Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-
[p]Nay, that's
not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks?
Emilia : It's the wind.
Desdemona : [Singing] I call'd my love false love; but what
[p]said he
then?
[p]Sing willow, willow, willow:
[p]If I court moe women, you'll
couch with moe men!
[p]So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do
itch;
[p]Doth that bode weeping?
Emilia : 'Tis neither here nor there.
Desdemona : I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!
[p]Dost thou in
conscience think,--tell me, Emilia,--
[p]That there be women do abuse
their husbands
[p]In such gross kind?
Emilia : There be some such, no question.
Desdemona : Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
Emilia : Why, would not you?
Desdemona : No, by this heavenly light!
Emilia : Nor I neither by this heavenly light;
[p]I might do't as well i' the
dark.
Desdemona : Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
Emilia : The world's a huge thing: it is a great price.
[p]For a small vice.
Desdemona : In troth, I think thou wouldst not.
Emilia : In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I had
[p]done. Marry, I
would not do such a thing for a
[p]joint-ring, nor for measures of
lawn, nor for
[p]gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any
petty
[p]exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would
[p]not
make her husband a cuckold to make him a
[p]monarch? I should venture
purgatory for't.
Desdemona : Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
[p]For the whole world.
Emilia : Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: and
[p]having the world for
your labour, tis a wrong in your
[p]own world, and you might quickly
make it right.
Desdemona : I do not think there is any such woman.
Emilia : Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would
[p]store the world
they played for.
[p]But I do think it is their husbands' faults
[p]If
wives do fall: say that they slack their duties,
[p]And pour our
treasures into foreign laps,
[p]Or else break out in peevish
jealousies,
[p]Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike
us,
[p]Or scant our former having in despite;
[p]Why, we have galls,
and though we have some grace,
[p]Yet have we some revenge. Let
husbands know
[p]Their wives have sense like them: they see and
smell
[p]And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
[p]As
husbands have. What is it that they do
[p]When they change us for
others? Is it sport?
[p]I think it is: and doth affection breed
it?
[p]I think it doth: is't frailty that thus errs?
[p]It is so too:
and have not we affections,
[p]Desires for sport, and frailty, as men
have?
[p]Then let them use us well: else let them know,
[p]The ills we
do, their ills instruct us so.
Desdemona : Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send,
[p]Not to pick bad
from bad, but by bad mend!
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Next: Act 5 - Scene 1
