Othello

even his stubbornness, his cheques, his frowns⁠—
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!
If I do die before thee prithee, shroud me
In one of those same sheets.

Emilia Come, come you talk. Desdemona

My mother had a maid call’d Barbara:
She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
And did forsake her: she had a song of “willow;”
An old thing ’twas, but it express’d her fortune,
And she died singing it: that song to-night
Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
But to go hang my head all at one side,
And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.

Emilia Shall I go fetch your night-gown? Desdemona

No, unpin me here.
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 to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip. Desdemona

Singing. The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow:
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur’d her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften’d the stones;

Lay by these:⁠—

Singing. Sing willow, willow, willow;

Prithee, hie thee; he’ll come anon:⁠—

Singing. Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-

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 said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:
If I court moe women, you’ll couch with moe men!
So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch;
Doth that bode weeping?

Emilia ’Tis neither here nor there. Desdemona

I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!
Dost thou in conscience think⁠—tell me, Emilia⁠—
That there be women do abuse their husbands
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;
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.
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 done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but for the whole world⁠—why, who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for’t. Desdemona

Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
For the whole world.

Emilia Why the wrong is but a wrong i’ the world: and having the world for your labour, ’tis a wrong in your 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 store the world they played for.
But I do think it is their husbands’ faults
If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps,
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,
Or scant our former having in despite;
Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. What is it that they do
When they change us for others? Is it sport?
I think it is: and doth affection breed it?
I think it doth: is’t frailty that thus errs?
It is so too: and have not we affections,
Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?
Then let them use us well: else let them know,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

Desdemona

Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send,
Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! Exeunt.

Act V

Scene I

Cyprus. A street.

	Enter Iago and Roderigo.
Iago	Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come: Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home: Quick, quick; fear nothing; I’ll be at thy elbow: It makes us, or it mars us; think on that, And fix most firm thy resolution.
Roderigo	Be near at hand; I may miscarry in’t.
Iago	Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand. Retires.
Roderigo	I have no great devotion to the deed; And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons: ’Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies.
Iago	I have rubb’d this young quat almost to the sense, And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo, He calls me to a restitution large Of gold and jewels that I bobb’d from him, As gifts to Desdemona; It must not be: if Cassio do remain, He hath a daily beauty in his life That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril: No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming.
	Enter Cassio.
Roderigo	I know his gait, ’tis he.⁠—Villain, thou diest! Makes a pass at Cassio.
Cassio	That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou know’st I will make proof of thine. Draws, and wounds Roderigo.
Roderigo	O, I am slain! Iago from behind wounds Cassio in the leg, and exit.
Cassio	I am maim’d for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder! Falls.
	Enter Othello.
Othello	The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word.
Roderigo	O, villain that I am!
Othello	It is even so.
Cassio	O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!
Othello	’Tis he:⁠—O brave Iago, honest and just, That hast such noble sense of thy friend’s wrong! Thou teachest me.