Othello - William Shakespeare (autobiographies to read TXT) 📗

your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch have put this in your head,
Let heaven requite it with the serpent’s curse!
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There’s no man happy; the purest of their wives
Is foul as slander. Othello

Bid her come hither: go. Exit Emilia.
She says enough; yet she’s a simple bawd
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
A closet lock and key of villanous secrets
And yet she’ll kneel and pray; I have seen her do’t.

Enter Desdemona with Emilia. Desdemona My lord, what is your will? Othello Pray, chuck, come hither. Desdemona What is your pleasure? Othello

Let me see your eyes;
Look in my face.

Desdemona What horrible fancy’s this? Othello

To Emilia. Some of your function, mistress;
Leave procreants alone and shut the door;
Cough, or cry “hem,” if any body come:
Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch. Exit Emilia.

Desdemona

Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words.
But not the words.

Othello Why, what art thou? Desdemona

Your wife, my lord; your true
And loyal wife.

Othello

Come, swear it, damn thyself
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double damn’d:
Swear thou art honest.

Desdemona Heaven doth truly know it. Othello Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell. Desdemona To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false? Othello O Desdemona! away! away! away! Desdemona

Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
If haply you my father do suspect
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me: If you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.

Othello

Had it pleased heaven
To try me with affliction; had they rain’d
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 place 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!

Desdemona I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. Othello

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!

Desdemona Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? Othello

Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write “whore” upon? What committed!
Committed! O thou public commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks,
The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets
Is hush’d within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it. What committed!
Impudent strumpet!

Desdemona By heaven, you do me wrong. Othello Are you not a strumpet? Desdemona

No, as I am a Christian:
If to preserve this vessel for my lord
From any other foul unlawful touch
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.

Othello What, not a whore? Desdemona No, as I shall be saved. Othello Is’t possible? Desdemona O, heaven forgive us! Othello

I cry you mercy, then:
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello. Raising his voice.
You, mistress,
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell!

Re-enter Emilia.

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. Exit.

Emilia

Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?

Desdemona ’Faith, half asleep. Emilia Good madam, what’s the matter with my lord? Desdemona With who? Emilia Why, with my lord, madam. Desdemona Who is thy lord? Emilia He that is yours, sweet lady. Desdemona

I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia;
I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,
But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember;
And call thy husband hither.

Emilia Here’s a change indeed! Exit. Desdemona

’Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
How have I been behaved, that he might stick
The small’st opinion on my least misuse?

Re-enter Emilia with Iago. Iago

What is your pleasure, madam?
How is’t with you?

Desdemona

I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes
Do it with gentle means 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? Emilia

Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her.
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
As true hearts cannot bear.

Desdemona Am I that name, Iago? Iago What name, fair lady? Desdemona Such as she says my lord did say I was. Emilia

He call’d her whore: a beggar in his drink
Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.

Iago Why did he so? Desdemona I do not know; I am sure I am none such. Iago Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day! Emilia

Hath 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?

Desdemona It is my wretched fortune. Iago

Beshrew him for’t!
How comes this trick upon him?

Desdemona Nay, heaven doth know. Emilia

I will be hang’d, if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devised this slander; I’ll be hang’d else.

Iago Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible. Desdemona If any such there be, heaven pardon him! Emilia

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 abused by some most