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;
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!

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 hadst 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?
O thou public commoner!

Committed!

I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds.

- What committed?
and the moon winks:

Heaven stops the nose at it,
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it.

Impudent strumpet!

Des.

Oth.

Des.

What committed?

If to preserve this vessel for my lord,

No, as I am a Christian.

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.

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 whom?

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 have I none,

But what should go by water. Pr'ythee, to-night
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets,

And call thy husband hither.

remember;

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 least misuse?

Re-enter EMILIA, with IAGO.

[Exit.

[Exit.

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

Des. I cannot tell.

Do it with gentle means,

Those, that do teach young babes,

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 callat.

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. Fie! there is no such man: it is impossible.
Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him!
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 rascals naked through the world,

Even from the east to the west!

Iago.

Speak within door.

Emil. O, fie upon them! 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.

Iago. I pray you, be content; 't is but his humour:

The business of the state does him offence,

And he does chide with you.

Des.

If 't were no other,

Iago. 'Tis but so, I warrant.

Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!

The messengers of Venice stay the meat.

Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.

How now, Roderigo!

[Trumpets.

[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA.

Enter RODErigo.

Rod. I do not find that thou deal'st justly with me.

Iago. What in the contrary?

Rod. Every day thou daff'st me with some device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keep'st from me all conveniency,

than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will, indeed, no longer endure it; nor am I yet persuaded, to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered.

Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo?

Rod. 'Faith, I have heard too much; for your words, and performances, are no kin together.

Iago. You charge me most unjustly.

Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means: the jewels you have had from me, to deliver to Desdemona, would half have corrupted a votarist: you have told me, she has received them, and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance; but I find none.

Iago. Well; go to; very well.

Rod. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 't is not very well by this hand, I say, it is very scurvy; and begin to find myself fobbed in it.

Iago. Very well.

Rod. I tell you, 't is not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona: if she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit, and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself, I will seek satisfaction of you.

Iago. You have said now.

Rod. Ay, and I have said nothing, but what I protest intendment of doing.

Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; and even, from this instant, do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: thou hast taken against me a most just exception; but, yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair.

Rod. It hath not appeared.

Iago. I grant, indeed, it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that within thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever, - I mean, purpose, courage, and valour, this night show it: if thou the next night following enjoyest not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery, and devise engines for my life.