OTHELLO. Make me to see't, or at the least so prove it, That the probation bear no hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on, or woe upon thy life!


OTHELLO. If thou dost slander her and torture me, Never pray more. Abandon all remorse; On horror's head horrors accumulate; Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd; For nothing canst thou to damnation add Greater than that.


IAGO. O grace! O heaven defend me! Are you a man? Have you a soul or sense? God be wi' you. Take mine office.—O wretched fool, That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice! O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe. I thank you for this profit, and from hence I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.


OTHELLO. Nay, stay. Thou shouldst be honest.


IAGO. I should be wise; for honesty's a fool, And loses that it works for.


OTHELLO. By the world, I think my wife be honest, and think she is not. I think that thou art just, and think thou art not. I'll have some proof: her name, that was as fresh As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black As mine own face. If there be cords or knives, Poison or fire, or suffocating streams, I'll not endure 't. Would I were satisfied!


IAGO. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion. I do repent me that I put it to you. You would be satisfied?


OTHELLO. Would? Nay, I will.


IAGO. And may; but how? How satisfied, my lord? Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on, Behold her topp'd?


OTHELLO. Death and damnation! O!


IAGO. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, To bring them to that prospect. Damn them then, If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster More than their own! What then? How then? What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? It is impossible you should see this, Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross As ignorance made drunk. But yet I say, If imputation and strong circumstances, Which lead directly to the door of truth, Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.


OTHELLO. Give me a living reason she's disloyal.


IAGO. I do not like the office, But sith I am enter'd in this cause so far, Prick'd to 't by foolish honesty and love, I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately, And being troubled with a raging tooth, I could not sleep. There are a kind of men so loose of soul, That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs. One of this kind is Cassio: In sleep I heard him say, "Sweet Desdemona, Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;" And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry "O sweet creature!" and then kiss me hard, As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots, That grew upon my lips, then laid his leg Over my thigh, and sigh'd and kiss'd, and then Cried "Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!"


IAGO. Nay, this was but his dream.


OTHELLO. But this denoted a foregone conclusion. 'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.


IAGO. And this may help to thicken other proofs That do demonstrate thinly.


OTHELLO. I'll tear her all to pieces.


IAGO. Nay, but be wise. Yet we see nothing done, She may be honest yet. Tell me but this, Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?


OTHELLO. I gave her such a one, 'twas my first gift.


IAGO. I know not that: but such a handkerchief (I am sure it was your wife's) did I today See Cassio wipe his beard with.


OTHELLO. If it be that,—


IAGO. If it be that, or any that was hers, It speaks against her with the other proofs.


OTHELLO. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge! Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago; All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven. 'Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow hell! Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For 'tis of aspics' tongues!


IAGO. Patience, I say. Your mind perhaps may change.


OTHELLO. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. Now by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow [Kneels.] I here engage my words.


IAGO. Do not rise yet. [Kneels.] Witness, you ever-burning lights above, You elements that clip us round about, Witness that here Iago doth give up The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody business ever.


OTHELLO. I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to 't. Within these three days let me hear thee say That Cassio's not alive.


OTHELLO. Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her, damn her! Come, go with me apart, I will withdraw To furnish me with some swift means of death For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.


IAGO. I am your own for ever.


SCENE IV. Cyprus. Before the Castle.


Enter Desdemona, Emilia and Clown.


DESDEMONA. Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?


CLOWN. I dare not say he lies anywhere.


CLOWN. He's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies is stabbing.


DESDEMONA. Go to. Where lodges he?


CLOWN. To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie.


DESDEMONA. Can anything be made of this?


CLOWN. I know not where he lodges; and for me to devise a lodging, and say he lies here, or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat.


DESDEMONA. Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?


CLOWN. I will catechize the world for him, that is, make questions and by them answer.


DESDEMONA. Seek him, bid him come hither. Tell him I have 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 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 Full of crusadoes. And but my noble Moor Is true of mind and made of no such baseness As jealous creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill thinking.


EMILIA. Is he not jealous?


DESDEMONA. Who, he? I think the sun where he was born Drew all such humours from him.


EMILIA. Look, where he comes.


DESDEMONA. I will not leave him now till Cassio Be call'd to him. How is't with you, my lord?


OTHELLO. Well, my good lady. [Aside.] O, hardness to dissemble! How do you, Desdemona?


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. Hot, hot, and moist. This hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, Much castigation, exercise devout; For here's a young and sweating devil here That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand, A frank one.


DESDEMONA. You may indeed say so, For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.


OTHELLO. A liberal hand. The hearts of old gave hands, 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. Lend me thy handkerchief.


DESDEMONA. Here, my lord.


OTHELLO. That which I gave you.


DESDEMONA. I have it not about me.


OTHELLO. Not?


OTHELLO. That is a fault. That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give. She was a charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love. But if she lost it, Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed, and his spirits should hunt After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me, And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, To give it her. I did so; and take heed on't, Make it a darling like your precious eye. To lose't or give't away were such perdition As nothing else could match.


OTHELLO. 'Tis true. There's magic in the web of it. A sibyl, that had number'd in the world The sun to course two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sew'd the work; The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk, And it was dyed in mummy, which the skillful Conserv'd of maiden's 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 of the way?


DESDEMONA. It is not lost, but what and if it were?


OTHELLO. Fetch't, let me see 't.


DESDEMONA. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. This is a trick to put me from my suit. Pray you, let Cassio be receiv'd again.


OTHELLO. Fetch me the handkerchief! My mind misgives.


OTHELLO. The handkerchief!


DESDEMONA. I pray, talk me of Cassio.


DESDEMONA. A man that all his time Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shar'd dangers with you,—


DESDEMONA. In sooth, you are to blame.


EMILIA. Is not this man jealous?


DESDEMONA. I ne'er saw this before. Sure there's some wonder in this handkerchief, I am most unhappy in the loss of it.


EMILIA. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us.


Enter Cassio and Iago.


Look you, Cassio and my husband.


IAGO. There is no other way; 'tis she must do 't, 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 That by your virtuous means I may again Exist, and be a member of his love, Whom I, with all the office of my heart, Entirely honour. I would not be delay'd. If my offence be of such mortal kind That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, Nor purpos'd merit in futurity, Can ransom me into his love again, But to know so must be my benefit; So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content, And shut myself up in some other course To fortune's alms.


DESDEMONA. Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio, My advocation is not now in tune; My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him Were he in favour as in humour alter'd. So help me every spirit sanctified, As I have spoken for you all my best, And stood within the blank of his displeasure For my free speech! You must awhile be patient. What I can do I will; and more I will Than for myself I dare. Let that suffice you.


IAGO. Is my lord angry?


EMILIA. He went hence but now, And certainly in strange unquietness.


IAGO. Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, When it hath blown his ranks into the air And, like the devil, from his very arm Puff'd his own brother, and can he be angry? Something of moment then. I will go meet him. There's matter in't indeed if he be angry.


DESDEMONA. I prithee do so.


Something sure of state, Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practice Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit, and in such cases Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so. For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful members even to that sense Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, I was (unhandsome warrior as I am) Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; But now I find I had suborn'd the witness, And he's indicted falsely.


EMILIA. Pray heaven it be state matters, as you think, And no conception nor no jealous toy Concerning you.


DESDEMONA. Alas the day, I never gave him cause!


EMILIA. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.


DESDEMONA. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind!


DESDEMONA. I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout: If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit, 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? How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.


BIANCA. And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. What, keep a week away? Seven days and nights? Eight score eight hours, and lovers' absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning!


CASSIO. Pardon me, Bianca. I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd, But I shall in a more continuate time Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,


Take me this work out.


BIANCA. O Cassio, whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend. To the felt absence now I feel a cause. Is't come to this? Well, well.


CASSIO. Go to, woman! Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now That this is from some mistress, some remembrance. No, in good troth, Bianca.


BIANCA. Why, whose is it?


CASSIO. I know not neither. I found it in my chamber. I like the work well. Ere it be demanded, As like enough it will, I'd have it copied. Take it, and do 't, and leave me for this time.


BIANCA. Leave you, wherefore?


CASSIO. I do attend here on the general, And think it no addition, nor my wish, 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. I pray you bring me on the way a little, And say if I shall see you soon at night.


CASSIO. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you, For I attend here. But I'll see you soon.


BIANCA. 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanc'd.


IAGO. Will you think so?


OTHELLO. Think so, Iago?


IAGO. What, To kiss in private?


IAGO. Or to be naked with her friend in bed An hour or more, not meaning any harm?


OTHELLO. Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm? It is hypocrisy against the devil: They that mean virtuously and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.


IAGO. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip. But if I give my wife a handkerchief—


OTHELLO. What then?


IAGO. Why then, 'tis hers, my lord, and being hers, She may, I think, bestow't on any man.


OTHELLO. She is protectress of her honour too. May she give that?


IAGO. Her honour is an essence that's not seen; They have it very oft that have it not: But for the handkerchief—


OTHELLO. By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it. Thou said'st (O, it comes o'er my memory, As doth the raven o'er the infected house, Boding to all) he had my handkerchief.


IAGO. Ay, what of that?


OTHELLO. That's not so good now.


IAGO. What If I had said I had seen him do you wrong? Or heard him say (as knaves be such abroad, Who having, by their own importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose But they must blab.)


OTHELLO. Hath he said anything?


IAGO. He hath, my lord, but be you well assur'd, No more than he'll unswear.


OTHELLO. What hath he said?


IAGO. Faith, that he did—I know not what he did.


OTHELLO. What? What?


OTHELLO. With her?


IAGO. With her, on her, what you will.


OTHELLO. Lie with her! lie on her!—We say lie on her when they belie her.—Lie with her! that's fulsome. Handkerchief—confessions—handkerchief! To confess, and be hanged for his labour. First, to be hanged, and then to confess. I tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction. It is not words that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips. Is't possible?—Confess?—handkerchief?—O devil!—


[Falls in a trance.]


IAGO. Work on, My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught, And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord! My lord, I say! Othello!


How now, Cassio!


CASSIO. What's the matter?


IAGO. My lord is fallen into an epilepsy. This is his second fit. He had one yesterday.


CASSIO. Rub him about the temples.


IAGO. No, forbear; The lethargy must have his quiet course. If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs: Do you withdraw yourself a little while, He will recover straight. When he is gone, I would on great occasion speak with you.


How is it, general? Have you not hurt your head?


OTHELLO. Dost thou mock me?


IAGO. I mock you? No, by heaven. Would you would bear your fortune like a man!


OTHELLO. A horned man's a monster and a beast.


IAGO. There's many a beast, then, in a populous city, And many a civil monster.


OTHELLO. Did he confess it?


IAGO. Good sir, be a man. Think every bearded fellow that's but yok'd May draw with you. There's millions now alive That nightly lie in those unproper beds Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better. O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure couch, And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.


OTHELLO. O, thou art wise, 'tis certain.


IAGO. Stand you awhile apart, Confine yourself but in a patient list. Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief, (A passion most unsuiting such a man) Cassio came hither. I shifted him away, And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy, Bade him anon return, and here speak with me, The which he promis'd. Do but encave yourself, And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns, That dwell in every region of his face; For I will make him tell the tale anew, Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath, and is again to cope your wife: I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience, Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen, And nothing of a man.


OTHELLO. Dost thou hear, Iago? I will be found most cunning in my patience; But,—dost thou hear?—most bloody.


IAGO. That's not amiss. But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?


[Othello withdraws.]


Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A housewife that by selling her desires Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the strumpet's plague To beguile many and be beguil'd by one.) He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain From the excess of laughter. Here he comes.


As he shall smile Othello shall go mad, And his unbookish jealousy must construe Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviour Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieutenant?


CASSIO. The worser that you give me the addition Whose want even kills me.


IAGO. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't. [Speaking lower.] Now, if this suit lay in Bianca's power, How quickly should you speed!


CASSIO. Alas, poor caitiff!


OTHELLO. [Aside.] Look how he laughs already!


IAGO. I never knew a woman love man so.


CASSIO. Alas, poor rogue! I think, i' faith, she loves me.


OTHELLO. [Aside.] Now he denies it faintly and laughs it out.


IAGO. Do you hear, Cassio?


OTHELLO. Now he importunes him To tell it o'er. Go to, well said, well said.


IAGO. She gives it out that you shall marry her. Do you intend it?


OTHELLO. Do you triumph, Roman? Do you triumph?


CASSIO. I marry her? What? A customer? I prithee, bear some charity to my wit, do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha!


OTHELLO. So, so, so, so. They laugh that wins.


IAGO. Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.


CASSIO. Prithee say true.


IAGO. I am a very villain else.


OTHELLO. Have you scored me? Well.


CASSIO. This is the monkey's own giving out. She is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise.


OTHELLO. Iago beckons me. Now he begins the story.


CASSIO. She was here even now. She haunts me in every place. I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with certain Venetians, and thither comes the bauble, and falls thus about my neck.


OTHELLO. Crying, "O dear Cassio!" as it were: his gesture imports it.


CASSIO. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha!


OTHELLO. Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to.


CASSIO. Well, I must leave her company.


IAGO. Before me! look where she comes.


CASSIO. 'Tis such another fitchew! Marry, a perfum'd one. What do you mean by this haunting of me?


BIANCA. Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the work? A likely piece of work, that you should find it in your chamber and not know who left it there! This is some minx's token, and I must take out the work? There, give it your hobby-horse. Wheresoever you had it, I'll take out no work on't.


OTHELLO. By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!


BIANCA. If you'll come to supper tonight, you may. If you will not, come when you are next prepared for.


CASSIO. Faith, I must; she'll rail in the street else.


IAGO. Will you sup there?


CASSIO. Faith, I intend so.


IAGO. Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very fain speak with you.


CASSIO. Prithee come, will you?


OTHELLO. [Coming forward.] How shall I murder him, Iago?


IAGO. Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?


IAGO. And did you see the handkerchief?


OTHELLO. Was that mine?


IAGO. Yours, by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he hath given it his whore.


OTHELLO. I would have him nine years a-killing. A fine woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman!


IAGO. Nay, you must forget that.


OTHELLO. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned tonight, for she shall not live. No, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature. She might lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks.


IAGO. Nay, that's not your way.


OTHELLO. Hang her, I do but say what she is. So delicate with her needle, an admirable musician! O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear! Of so high and plenteous wit and invention!


IAGO. She's the worse for all this.


OTHELLO. O, a thousand, a thousand times: and then of so gentle a condition!


IAGO. Ay, too gentle.


OTHELLO. Nay, that's certain. But yet the pity of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!


IAGO. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes near nobody.


OTHELLO. I will chop her into messes. Cuckold me!


IAGO. O, 'tis foul in her.


OTHELLO. With mine officer!


IAGO. That's fouler.


OTHELLO. Get me some poison, Iago; this night. I'll not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again. This night, Iago.


IAGO. Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.


OTHELLO. Good, good. The justice of it pleases. Very good.


IAGO. And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker. You shall hear more by midnight.


OTHELLO. Excellent good. [A trumpet within.] What trumpet is that same?


IAGO. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico Come from the duke. See, your wife is with him.


LODOVICO. Save you, worthy general!


OTHELLO. With all my heart, sir.


LODOVICO. The duke and senators of Venice greet you.


[Gives him a packet.]


OTHELLO. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.


[Opens the packet and reads.]


DESDEMONA. And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?


IAGO. I am very glad to see you, signior. Welcome to Cyprus.


LODOVICO. I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?


DESDEMONA. Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord An unkind breach, but you shall make all well.


OTHELLO. Are you sure of that?


DESDEMONA. My lord?


OTHELLO. [Reads.] "This fail you not to do, as you will—"


LODOVICO. He did not call; he's busy in the paper. Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?


DESDEMONA. A most unhappy one. I would do much To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.


OTHELLO. Fire and brimstone!


OTHELLO. Are you wise?


DESDEMONA. What, is he angry?


LODOVICO. May be the letter mov'd him; For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government.


DESDEMONA. Trust me, I am glad on't.


DESDEMONA. Why, sweet Othello?


DESDEMONA. I have not deserv'd this.


LODOVICO. My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice, Though I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much. Make her amends. She weeps.


OTHELLO. O devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. Out of my sight!


DESDEMONA. I will not stay to offend you.


LODOVICO. Truly, an obedient lady. I do beseech your lordship, call her back.


OTHELLO. Mistress!


OTHELLO. What would you with her, sir?


LODOVICO. Who, I, my lord?


OTHELLO. Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn. Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, And turn again. And she can weep, sir, weep; And she's obedient, as you say, obedient, Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. Concerning this, sir,—O well-painted passion! I am commanded home.—Get you away; I'll send for you anon.—Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice.—Hence, avaunt!


Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight, I do entreat that we may sup together. You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!


LODOVICO. Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senate Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident nor dart of chance Could neither graze nor pierce?


IAGO. He is much chang'd.


LODOVICO. Are his wits safe? Is he not light of brain?


IAGO. He's that he is. I may not breathe my censure What he might be. If what he might he is not, I would to heaven he were!


LODOVICO. What, strike his wife?


IAGO. Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew That stroke would prove the worst!


LODOVICO. Is it his use? Or did the letters work upon his blood, And new-create this fault?


IAGO. Alas, alas! It is not honesty in me to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe him, And his own courses will denote him so That I may save my speech: do but go after, And mark how he continues.


LODOVICO. I am sorry that I am deceiv'd in him.


Enter Othello and Emilia.


OTHELLO. You have seen nothing, then?


EMILIA. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.


OTHELLO. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.


EMILIA. But then I saw no harm, and then I heard Each syllable that breath made up between them.


OTHELLO. What, did they never whisper?


EMILIA. Never, my lord.


OTHELLO. Nor send you out o' the way?


OTHELLO. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?


OTHELLO. That's strange.


EMILIA. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other, Remove 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.


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 villainous secrets. And yet she'll kneel and pray. I have seen her do 't.


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 anybody come. Your mystery, your mystery. Nay, dispatch.


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?


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 pleas'd 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!


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.


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 sav'd.


OTHELLO. I cry you mercy then. I took you for that cunning whore of Venice That married with Othello.—You, mistress,


That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keeps 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.


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!


DESDEMONA. '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?


Enter Iago and Emilia.


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 bewhor'd 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 callet.


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 devis'd 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 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.


EMILIA. 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.


DESDEMONA. Alas, 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. 'Tis but his humour. The business of the state does him offence, And he does chide with you.


DESDEMONA. If 'twere 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.


RODERIGO. I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.


IAGO. What in the contrary?


RODERIGO. Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago, and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest 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?


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


RODERIGO. With naught 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 hath received them, and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance, but I find none.


IAGO. Well, go to, very well.


RODERIGO. Very well, go to, I cannot go to, man, nor 'tis not very well. Nay, I say 'tis very scurvy, and begin to find myself fopped in it.


IAGO. Very well.


RODERIGO. I tell you 'tis 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.


RODERIGO. Ay, and 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.


RODERIGO. It hath not appeared.


IAGO. I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgement. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in 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 enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life.


RODERIGO. Well, what is it? Is it within reason and compass?


IAGO. Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place.


RODERIGO. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice.


IAGO. O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some accident: wherein none can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio.


RODERIGO. How do you mean "removing" of him?


IAGO. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place: knocking out his brains.


RODERIGO. And that you would have me to do?


IAGO. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him. He knows not yet of his honourable fortune. If you will watch his going thence, which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, you may take him at your pleasure: I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me. I will show you such a necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high supper-time, and the night grows to waste. About it.


RODERIGO. I will hear further reason for this.


IAGO. And you shall be satisfied.


SCENE III. Cyprus. Another Room in the Castle.


Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia and Attendants.


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. Get you to bed on th' instant, I will be return'd forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there. Look 't be done.


DESDEMONA. I will, my lord.


[Exeunt Othello, Lodovico and Attendants.]


EMILIA. How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did.


DESDEMONA. He says he will return incontinent, He hath commanded me to go to bed, And bade me to dismiss you.


DESDEMONA. It was his bidding. Therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu. 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, That even his stubbornness, his checks, 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.


DESDEMONA. My mother had a maid call'd Barbary, She was in love, and he she lov'd prov'd 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 tonight 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 Barbary. Prithee dispatch.


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:—


[Sings.] Sing willow, willow, willow.


Prithee hie thee. He'll come anon.


[Sings.] 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. [Sings.] I call'd my love false love; but what said he then? Sing willow, willow, willow: If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo 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.


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 usage send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!


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.


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.


[Goes to his stand.]


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.


RODERIGO. I know his gait; 'tis he. Villain, thou diest!


[Rushes out, and 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 rushes from his post, cuts Cassio behind in the leg, and exit.]


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,—minion, your dear lies dead, And your unbless'd fate hies. Strumpet, I come! Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted; Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted.


CASSIO. What, ho! No watch? No passage? murder, murder!


GRATIANO. 'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.


RODERIGO. O wretched villain!


LODOVICO. Two or three groan. It is a heavy night. These may be counterfeits. Let's think't unsafe To come in to the cry without more help.


RODERIGO. Nobody come? Then shall I bleed to death.


Enter Iago with a light.


GRATIANO. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.


IAGO. Who's there? Whose noise is this that cries on murder?


LODOVICO. We do not know.


IAGO. Did not you hear a cry?


IAGO. What's the matter?


GRATIANO. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.


LODOVICO. The same indeed, a very valiant fellow.


IAGO. What are you here that cry so grievously?


CASSIO. Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains! Give me some help.


IAGO. O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this?


CASSIO. I think that one of them is hereabout, And cannot make away.


IAGO. O treacherous villains! [To Lodovico and Gratiano.] What are you there? Come in and give some help.


CASSIO. That's one of them.


IAGO. Kill men i' the dark! Where be these bloody thieves? How silent is this town! Ho! murder! murder! What may you be? Are you of good or evil?


LODOVICO. He, sir.


IAGO. I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains.


IAGO. How is't, brother?


CASSIO. My leg is cut in two.


IAGO. Marry, heaven forbid! Light, gentlemen, I'll bind it with my shirt.


BIANCA. What is the matter, ho? Who is't that cried?


IAGO. Who is't that cried?


BIANCA. O my dear Cassio, my sweet Cassio! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!


IAGO. O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be that have thus mangled you?


GRATIANO. I am sorry to find you thus; I have been to seek you.


IAGO. Lend me a garter. So.—O, for a chair, To bear him easily hence!


BIANCA. Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!


IAGO. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash To be a party in this injury. Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; Lend me a light. Know we this face or no? Alas, my friend and my dear countryman Roderigo? No. Yes, sure; O heaven! Roderigo.


GRATIANO. What, of Venice?


IAGO. Even he, sir. Did you know him?


IAGO. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon. These bloody accidents must excuse my manners, That so neglected you.


IAGO. He, he, 'tis he.


[A chair brought in.]


O, that's well said; the chair. Some good man bear him carefully from hence, I'll fetch the general's surgeon. [To Bianca] For you, mistress, Save you your labour. He that lies slain here, Cassio, Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?


CASSIO. None in the world. Nor do I know the man.


IAGO. [To Bianca.] What, look you pale?—O, bear him out o' the air.


[Cassio and Roderigo are borne off.]


Stay you, good gentlemen.—Look you pale, mistress? Do you perceive the gastness of her eye? Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon. Behold her well. I pray you, look upon her. Do you see, gentlemen? Nay, guiltiness will speak Though tongues were out of use.


EMILIA. 'Las, what's the matter? What's the matter, husband?


IAGO. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scap'd. He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.


EMILIA. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!


IAGO. This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia, Go know of Cassio where he supp'd tonight. What, do you shake at that?


BIANCA. He supp'd at my house, but I therefore shake not.


IAGO. O, did he so? I charge you go with me.


EMILIA. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!


BIANCA. I am no strumpet, but of life as honest As you that thus abuse me.


EMILIA. As I? Foh! fie upon thee!


IAGO. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd. Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale. Emilia, run you to the citadel, And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd. Will you go on afore? [Aside.] This is the night That either makes me or fordoes me quite.


SCENE II. Cyprus. A Bedchamber in the castle.


Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning.


OTHELLO. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars! It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood, Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light: If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me. But once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd thy rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs wither. I'll smell it on the tree.


O, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword! One more, one more. Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after. One more, and this the last. So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel tears. This sorrow's heavenly, It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.


DESDEMONA. Who's there? Othello?


DESDEMONA. Will you come to bed, my lord?


OTHELLO. Have you pray'd tonight, Desdemona?


DESDEMONA. Ay, my lord.


OTHELLO. If you bethink yourself of any crime Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight.


DESDEMONA. Alack, my lord, what may you mean by that?


OTHELLO. Well, do it, and be brief, I will walk by. I would not kill thy unprepared spirit, No, heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.


DESDEMONA. Then heaven have mercy on me!


OTHELLO. Amen, with all my heart!


DESDEMONA. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.


DESDEMONA. And yet I fear you, for you are fatal then When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not, Since guiltiness I know not, but yet I feel I fear.


OTHELLO. Think on thy sins.


DESDEMONA. They are loves I bear to you.


OTHELLO. Ay, and for that thou diest.


DESDEMONA. That death's unnatural that kills for loving. Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame. These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me.


OTHELLO. Peace, and be still!


DESDEMONA. I will so. What's the matter?


OTHELLO. That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee, Thou gav'st to Cassio.


DESDEMONA. No, by my life and soul! Send for the man and ask him.


OTHELLO. Sweet soul, take heed, take heed of perjury, Thou'rt on thy death-bed.


OTHELLO. Yes, presently: Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin. For to deny each article with oath Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.


DESDEMONA. Then, Lord have mercy on me!


DESDEMONA. And have you mercy too! I never did Offend you in my life, never lov'd Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love. I never gave him token.


OTHELLO. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in 's hand. O perjur'd woman, thou dost stone my heart, And mak'st me call what I intend to do A murder, which I thought a sacrifice. I saw the handkerchief.


DESDEMONA. He found it then. I never gave it him. Send for him hither. Let him confess a truth.


OTHELLO. He hath confess'd.


DESDEMONA. What, my lord?


OTHELLO. That he hath us'd thee.


DESDEMONA. How? Unlawfully?


DESDEMONA. He will not say so.


OTHELLO. No, his mouth is stopp'd. Honest Iago hath ta'en order for 't.


DESDEMONA. O, my fear interprets! What, is he dead?


OTHELLO. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had stomach for them all.


DESDEMONA. Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone!


OTHELLO. Out, strumpet! Weep'st thou for him to my face?


DESDEMONA. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!


OTHELLO. Down, strumpet!


DESDEMONA. Kill me tomorrow, let me live tonight!


OTHELLO. Nay, if you strive,—


DESDEMONA. But half an hour!


OTHELLO. Being done, there is no pause.


DESDEMONA. But while I say one prayer!


OTHELLO. It is too late.


[Smothers her.]


EMILIA. [Within.] My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord!


OTHELLO. What noise is this? Not dead? Not yet quite dead? I that am cruel am yet merciful, I would not have thee linger in thy pain. So, so.


EMILIA. [Within.] What, ho! my lord, my lord!


OTHELLO. Who's there?


EMILIA. [Within.] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you!


OTHELLO. Yes. 'Tis Emilia, by and by. She's dead. 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death; The noise was high.—Ha! no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were't good? I think she stirs again; no. What's best to do? If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife. My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife. O, insupportable! O heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.


EMILIA. [Within.] I do beseech you That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!


OTHELLO. I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia. Soft, by and by; let me the curtains draw. Where art thou?


[Unlocks the door.]


What's the matter with thee now?


EMILIA. O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done!


OTHELLO. What, now?


EMILIA. But now, my lord.


OTHELLO. It is the very error of the moon, She comes more nearer earth than she was wont And makes men mad.


EMILIA. Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian Call'd Roderigo.


EMILIA. No, Cassio is not kill'd.


OTHELLO. Not Cassio kill'd! Then murder's out of tune, And sweet revenge grows harsh.


EMILIA. Alas, what cry is that?


OTHELLO. That? What?


EMILIA. Out, and alas! That was my lady's voice. Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again, Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!


DESDEMONA. A guiltless death I die.


EMILIA. O, who hath done this deed?


DESDEMONA. Nobody; I myself. Farewell. Commend me to my kind lord. O, farewell!


OTHELLO. Why, how should she be murder'd?


EMILIA. Alas, who knows?


OTHELLO. You heard her say herself, it was not I.


EMILIA. She said so. I must needs report the truth.


OTHELLO. She's like a liar, gone to burning hell. 'Twas I that kill'd her.


EMILIA. O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil!


OTHELLO. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.


EMILIA. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.


OTHELLO. She was false as water.


EMILIA. Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!


OTHELLO. Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else. O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell, But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.


EMILIA. My husband?


OTHELLO. Thy husband.


EMILIA. That she was false to wedlock?


OTHELLO. Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I'd not have sold her for it.


OTHELLO. Ay, 'twas he that told me first. An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds.


OTHELLO. What needs this iterance, woman? I say thy husband.


EMILIA. O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love! My husband say that she was false?


OTHELLO. He, woman; I say thy husband: dost understand the word? My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.


EMILIA. If he say so, may his pernicious soul Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart. She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.


EMILIA. Do thy worst: This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven Than thou wast worthy her.


OTHELLO. Peace, you were best.


EMILIA. Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt! As ignorant as dirt! Thou hast done a deed (I care not for thy sword) I'll make thee known, Though I lost twenty lives. Help! help, ho! help! The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder, murder!


MONTANO. What is the matter? How now, general?


EMILIA. O, are you come, Iago? You have done well, That men must lay their murders on your neck.


GRATIANO. What is the matter?


EMILIA. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man. He says thou told'st him that his wife was false. I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain. Speak, for my heart is full.


IAGO. I told him what I thought, and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true.


EMILIA. But did you ever tell him she was false?


EMILIA. You told a lie, an odious, damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie. She false with Cassio? Did you say with Cassio?


IAGO. With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.


EMILIA. I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak. My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed.


EMILIA. And your reports have set the murder on.


OTHELLO. Nay, stare not, masters, it is true indeed.


GRATIANO. 'Tis a strange truth.


MONTANO. O monstrous act!


EMILIA. Villany, villany, villany! I think upon't, I think I smell't; O villany! I thought so then. I'll kill myself for grief. O villany, villany!


IAGO. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.


EMILIA. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak. 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now. Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.


[Hanging over his wife.]


EMILIA. Nay, lay thee down and roar; For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent That e'er did lift up eye.


OTHELLO. [Rising.] O, she was foul! I scarce did know you, uncle, there lies your niece, Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopp'd. I know this act shows horrible and grim.


GRATIANO. Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead. Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn, Yea, curse his better angel from his side, And fall to reprobance.


OTHELLO. 'Tis pitiful. But yet Iago knows That she with Cassio hath the act of shame A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it, And she did gratify his amorous works With that recognizance and pledge of love Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand. It was a handkerchief, an antique token My father gave my mother.


EMILIA. O heaven! O heavenly powers!


IAGO. Come, hold your peace.


EMILIA. 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace? No, I will speak as liberal as the north. Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.


EMILIA. I will not.


[Iago offers to stab his wife.]


GRATIANO. Fie! Your sword upon a woman?


EMILIA. O thou dull Moor, that handkerchief thou speak'st of I found by fortune and did give my husband; For often with a solemn earnestness, More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle, He begg'd of me to steal it.


IAGO. Villanous whore!


EMILIA. She give it Cassio! no, alas, I found it, And I did give't my husband.


IAGO. Filth, thou liest!


EMILIA. By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen. O murderous coxcomb! What should such a fool Do with so good a wife?


OTHELLO Are there not stones in heaven But what serve for thunder? Precious villain!


[Iago stabs Emilia and then runs out.]


GRATIANO. The woman falls. Sure, he hath kill'd his wife.


EMILIA. Ay, ay. O, lay me by my mistress' side.


GRATIANO. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.


MONTANO. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, Which I have here recover'd from the Moor. Come, guard the door without, let him not pass, But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain, For 'tis a damned slave.


[Exit Montano and Gratiano.]


OTHELLO. I am not valiant neither, But every puny whipster gets my sword. But why should honour outlive honesty? Let it go all.


EMILIA. What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan, And die in music. [Sings.] Willow, willow, willow. Moor, she was chaste. She lov'd thee, cruel Moor, So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; So speaking as I think, I die, I die.


OTHELLO. I have another weapon in this chamber, It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper. O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.


GRATIANO. [Within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.


OTHELLO. Look in upon me then, and speak with me, Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.


OTHELLO. Behold, I have a weapon. A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day That with this little arm and this good sword I have made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop. But, O vain boast! Who can control his fate? 'Tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd. Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismay'd? 'Tis a lost fear. Man but a rush against Othello's breast, And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench, Pale as thy smock, when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl! Even like thy chastity. O cursed, cursed slave! Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight! Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur, Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemon! Dead, Desdemon! dead! Oh, oh!


Enter Lodovico, Montano, Cassio carried in a chair, and Officers with Iago prisoner.


LODOVICO. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?


OTHELLO. That's he that was Othello. Here I am.


LODOVICO. Where is that viper? Bring the villain forth.


OTHELLO. I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable. If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.


[Wounds Iago.]


LODOVICO. Wrench his sword from him.


OTHELLO. I am not sorry neither. I'd have thee live, For in my sense 'tis happiness to die.


LODOVICO. O thou Othello, that wert once so good, Fall'n in the practice of a damned slave, What shall be said to thee?


OTHELLO. Why, anything; An honourable murderer, if you will. For naught did I in hate, but all in honour.


LODOVICO. This wretch hath part confess'd his villany. Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?


CASSIO. Dear general, I never gave you cause.


OTHELLO. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body?


IAGO. Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word.


LODOVICO. What, not to pray?


GRATIANO. Torments will ope your lips.


OTHELLO. Well, thou dost best.


LODOVICO. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo, And here another. The one of them imports The death of Cassio, to be undertook By Roderigo.


CASSIO. Most heathenish and most gross!


LODOVICO. Now here's another discontented paper, Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain, But that, belike, Iago in the interim Came in and satisfied him.


OTHELLO. O the pernicious caitiff! How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief That was my wife's?


CASSIO. I found it in my chamber. And he himself confess'd but even now, That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose Which wrought to his desire.


OTHELLO. O fool! fool! fool!


CASSIO. There is besides in Roderigo's letter, How he upbraids Iago, that he made him Brave me upon the watch, whereon it came That I was cast. And even but now he spake, After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, Iago set him on.


LODOVICO. You must forsake this room, and go with us. Your power and your command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, If there be any cunning cruelty That can torment him much and hold him long, It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, Till that the nature of your fault be known To the Venetian state. Come, bring away.


OTHELLO. Soft you; a word or two before you go. I have done the state some service, and they know't. No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely, but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdu'd eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinal gum. Set you down this. And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian and traduc'd the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him, thus.


[Stabs himself.]


GRATIANO. All that's spoke is marr'd.


OTHELLO. I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.


CASSIO. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon, For he was great of heart.


LODOVICO. [To Iago.] O Spartan dog, More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea, Look on the tragic loading of this bed. This is thy work. The object poisons sight, Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house, And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor, Remains the censure of this hellish villain. The time, the place, the torture, O, enforce it! Myself will straight aboard, and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate.


ACT I Chorus. Before the palace of Antioch Scene I. Antioch. A room in the palace Scene II. Tyre. A room in the palace Scene III. Tyre. An ante-chamber in the Palace Scene IV. Tarsus. A room in the Governor's house


ACT II Chorus. Chorus Scene I. Pentapolis. An open place by the seaside Scene II. The same. A public way, or platform leading to the lists Scene III. The same. A hall of state: a banquet prepared Scene IV. Tyre. A room in the Governor's house Scene V. Pentapolis. A room in the palace


ACT III Chorus. Chorus Scene I. On shipboard Scene II. Ephesus. A room in Cerimon's house Scene III. Tarsus. A room in Cleon's house Scene IV. Ephesus. A room in Cerimon's house


ACT IV Chorus. Chorus Scene I. Tarsus. An open place near the seashore Scene II. Mytilene. A room in a brothel Scene III. Tarsus. A room in Cleon's house Scene IV. Before the monument of Marina at Tarsus Scene V. Mytilene. A street before the brothel Scene VI. The same. A room in the brothel


ACT V Chorus. Chorus Scene I. On board Pericles' ship, off Mytilene Scene II. Before the temple of Diana at Ephesus Scene III. The temple of Diana at Ephesus


ANTIOCHUS, king of Antioch. PERICLES, prince of Tyre. HELICANUS, ESCANES, two lords of Tyre. SIMONIDES, king of Pentapolis. CLEON, governor of Tarsus. LYSIMACHUS, governor of Mytilene. CERIMON, a lord of Ephesus. THALIARD, a lord of Antioch. PHILEMON, servant to Cerimon. LEONINE, servant to Dionyza. Marshal. A Pandar. BOULT, his servant. The Daughter of Antiochus. DIONYZA, wife to Cleon. THAISA, daughter to Simonides. MARINA, daughter to Pericles and Thaisa. LYCHORIDA, nurse to Marina. A Bawd. Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pirates, Fishermen, and Messengers. DIANA. GOWER, as Chorus.


SCENE: Dispersedly in various countries.


Before the palace of Antioch.


To sing a song that old was sung, From ashes ancient Gower is come; Assuming man's infirmities, To glad your ear, and please your eyes. It hath been sung at festivals, On ember-eves and holy-ales; And lords and ladies in their lives Have read it for restoratives: The purchase is to make men glorious, Et bonum quo antiquius eo melius. If you, born in these latter times, When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes, And that to hear an old man sing May to your wishes pleasure bring, I life would wish, and that I might Waste it for you, like taper-light. This Antioch, then, Antiochus the Great Built up, this city, for his chiefest seat; The fairest in all Syria. I tell you what mine authors say: This king unto him took a fere, Who died and left a female heir, So buxom, blithe, and full of face, As heaven had lent her all his grace; With whom the father liking took, And her to incest did provoke. Bad child; worse father! to entice his own To evil should be done by none: But custom what they did begin Was with long use account'd no sin. The beauty of this sinful dame Made many princes thither frame, To seek her as a bedfellow, In marriage pleasures playfellow: Which to prevent he made a law, To keep her still, and men in awe, That whoso ask'd her for his wife, His riddle told not, lost his life: So for her many a wight did die, As yon grim looks do testify. What now ensues, to the judgement your eye I give, my cause who best can justify.


SCENE I. Antioch. A room in the palace.


Enter Antiochus, Prince Pericles and followers.


ANTIOCHUS. Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received The danger of the task you undertake.


PERICLES. I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul Emboldened with the glory of her praise, Think death no hazard in this enterprise.


ANTIOCHUS. Music! Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride, For the embracements even of Jove himself; At whose conception, till Lucina reigned, Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence, The senate house of planets all did sit, To knit in her their best perfections.


Music. Enter the Daughter of Antiochus.


PERICLES. See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring, Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king Of every virtue gives renown to men! Her face the book of praises, where is read Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence Sorrow were ever razed, and testy wrath Could never be her mild companion. You gods that made me man, and sway in love, That have inflamed desire in my breast To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree, Or die in the adventure, be my helps, As I am son and servant to your will, To compass such a boundless happiness!


ANTIOCHUS. Prince Pericles,—


PERICLES. That would be son to great Antiochus.


ANTIOCHUS. Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd; For death-like dragons here affright thee hard: Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view Her countless glory, which desert must gain; And which, without desert, because thine eye Presumes to reach, all the whole heap must die. Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself, Drawn by report, adventurous by desire, Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale, That without covering, save yon field of stars, Here they stand Martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars; And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist For going on death's net, whom none resist.


PERICLES. Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught My frail mortality to know itself, And by those fearful objects to prepare This body, like to them, to what I must; For death remember'd should be like a mirror, Who tells us life's but breath, to trust it error. I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do Who know the world, see heaven, but, feeling woe, Gripe not at earthly joys as erst they did; So I bequeath a happy peace to you And all good men, as every prince should do; My riches to the earth from whence they came; [To the daughter of Antiochus.] But my unspotted fire of love to you. Thus ready for the way of life or death, I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus.


ANTIOCHUS. Scorning advice, read the conclusion, then: Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed.


DAUGHTER. Of all 'ssayed yet, mayst thou prove prosperous! Of all 'ssayed yet, I wish thee happiness!


PERICLES Like a bold champion, I assume the lists, Nor ask advice of any other thought But faithfulness and courage.


[He reads the riddle.]


I am no viper, yet I feed On mother's flesh which did me breed. I sought a husband, in which labour I found that kindness in a father: He's father, son, and husband mild; I mother, wife, and yet his child. How they may be, and yet in two, As you will live resolve it you.


Sharp physic is the last: but, O you powers That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts, Why cloud they not their sights perpetually, If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still,


[Takes hold of the hand of the Princess.]


Were not this glorious casket stored with ill: But I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt; For he's no man on whom perfections wait That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate, You are a fair viol, and your sense the strings; Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music, Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to hearken; But being play'd upon before your time, Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime. Good sooth, I care not for you.


ANTIOCHUS. Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life, For that's an article within our law, As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expired: Either expound now, or receive your sentence.


PERICLES. Great king, Few love to hear the sins they love to act; 'Twould braid yourself too near for me to tell it. Who has a book of all that monarchs do, He's more secure to keep it shut than shown: For vice repeated is like the wandering wind, Blows dust in others' eyes, to spread itself; And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear. To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't. Kind are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will; And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill? It is enough you know; and it is fit, What being more known grows worse, to smother it. All love the womb that their first bred, Then give my tongue like leave to love my head.


ANTIOCHUS. [Aside] Heaven, that I had thy head! He has found the meaning: But I will gloze with him.—Young prince of Tyre. Though by the tenour of our strict edict, Your exposition misinterpreting, We might proceed to cancel of your days; Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise: Forty days longer we do respite you; If by which time our secret be undone, This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son: And until then your entertain shall be As doth befit our honour and your worth.


PERICLES. How courtesy would seem to cover sin, When what is done is like an hypocrite, The which is good in nothing but in sight! If it be true that I interpret false, Then were it certain you were not so bad As with foul incest to abuse your soul; Where now you're both a father and a son, By your untimely claspings with your child, Which pleasures fits a husband, not a father; And she an eater of her mother's flesh, By the defiling of her parent's bed; And both like serpents are, who though they feed On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed. Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men Blush not in actions blacker than the night, Will 'schew no course to keep them from the light. One sin, I know, another doth provoke; Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke: Poison and treason are the hands of sin, Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame: Then, lest my life be cropp'd to keep you clear, By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear.


ANTIOCHUS. He hath found the meaning, For which we mean to have his head. He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy, Nor tell the world Antiochus doth sin In such a loathed manner; And therefore instantly this prince must die; For by his fall my honour must keep high. Who attends us there?


Enter Thaliard.


THALIARD. Doth your highness call?


ANTIOCHUS. Thaliard, you are of our chamber, And our mind partakes her private actions To your secrecy; and for your faithfulness We will advance you. Thaliard, Behold, here's poison, and here's gold; We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him: It fits thee not to ask the reason why, Because we bid it. Say, is it done?


THALIARD. My lord, 'tis done.


ANTIOCHUS. Enough.


Let your breath cool yourself, telling your haste.


MESSENGER. My lord, Prince Pericles is fled.


ANTIOCHUS. As thou wilt live, fly after: and like an arrow shot From a well-experienced archer hits the mark His eye doth level at, so thou ne'er return Unless thou say 'Prince Pericles is dead.'


THALIARD. My lord, if I can get him within my pistol's length, I'll make him sure enough: so, farewell to your highness.


ANTIOCHUS. Thaliard! adieu!


[Exit Thaliard.]


Till Pericles be dead, My heart can lend no succour to my head.


SCENE II. Tyre. A room in the palace.


Enter Pericles with his Lords.


PERICLES. [To Lords without.] Let none disturb us.—Why should this change of thoughts, The sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy, Be my so used a guest as not an hour In the day's glorious walk or peaceful night, The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet? Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them, And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch, Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here: Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits, Nor yet the other's distance comfort me. Then it is thus: the passions of the mind, That have their first conception by misdread, Have after-nourishment and life by care; And what was first but fear what might be done, Grows elder now and cares it be not done. And so with me: the great Antiochus, 'Gainst whom I am too little to contend, Since he's so great can make his will his act, Will think me speaking, though I swear to silence; Nor boots it me to say I honour him. If he suspect I may dishonour him: And what may make him blush in being known, He'll stop the course by which it might be known; With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land, And with the ostent of war will look so huge, Amazement shall drive courage from the state; Our men be vanquish'd ere they do resist, And subjects punish'd that ne'er thought offence: Which care of them, not pity of myself, Who am no more but as the tops of trees, Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them, Makes both my body pine and soul to languish, And punish that before that he would punish.


Enter Helicanus with other Lords.


FIRST LORD. Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast!


SECOND LORD. And keep your mind, till you return to us, Peaceful and comfortable!


HELICANUS. Peace, peace, and give experience tongue. They do abuse the king that flatter him: For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; The thing the which is flatter'd, but a spark, To which that spark gives heat and stronger glowing: Whereas reproof, obedient and in order, Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err. When Signior Sooth here does proclaim peace, He flatters you, makes war upon your life. Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please; I cannot be much lower than my knees.


PERICLES. All leave us else, but let your cares o'erlook What shipping and what lading's in our haven, And then return to us.


Helicanus, thou Hast moved us: what seest thou in our looks?


HELICANUS. An angry brow, dread lord.


PERICLES. If there be such a dart in princes' frowns, How durst thy tongue move anger to our face?


HELICANUS. How dares the plants look up to heaven, from whence They have their nourishment?


PERICLES. Thou know'st I have power To take thy life from thee.


HELICANUS. [Kneeling.] I have ground the axe myself; Do but you strike the blow.


PERICLES. Rise, prithee, rise. Sit down: thou art no flatterer: I thank thee for it; and heaven forbid That kings should let their ears hear their faults hid! Fit counsellor and servant for a prince, Who by thy wisdom makest a prince thy servant, What wouldst thou have me do?


HELICANUS. To bear with patience Such griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself.


PERICLES. Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus, That ministers a potion unto me That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself. Attend me, then: I went to Antioch, Where, as thou know'st, against the face of death, I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty, From whence an issue I might propagate, Are arms to princes, and bring joys to subjects. Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder; The rest—hark in thine ear—as black as incest, Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father Seem'd not to strike, but smooth: but thou know'st this, 'Tis time to fear when tyrants seems to kiss. Which fear so grew in me I hither fled, Under the covering of a careful night, Who seem'd my good protector; and, being here, Bethought me what was past, what might succeed. I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears Decrease not, but grow faster than the years: And should he doubt, as no doubt he doth, That I should open to the listening air How many worthy princes' bloods were shed, To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope, To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms, And make pretence of wrong that I have done him; When all, for mine, if I may call offence, Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence: Which love to all, of which thyself art one, Who now reprovest me for it,—


PERICLES. Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my cheeks, Musings into my mind, with thousand doubts How I might stop this tempest ere it came; And finding little comfort to relieve them, I thought it princely charity to grieve them.


HELICANUS. Well, my lord, since you have given me leave to speak, Freely will I speak. Antiochus you fear, And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant, Who either by public war or private treason Will take away your life. Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while, Till that his rage and anger be forgot, Or till the Destinies do cut his thread of life. Your rule direct to any; if to me, Day serves not light more faithful than I'll be.


PERICLES. I do not doubt thy faith; But should he wrong my liberties in my absence?


HELCANUS. We'll mingle our bloods together in the earth, From whence we had our being and our birth.


PERICLES. Tyre, I now look from thee then, and to Tarsus Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee; And by whose letters I'll dispose myself. The care I had and have of subjects' good On thee I lay, whose wisdom's strength can bear it. I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath: Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both: But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe, That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince, Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince.


SCENE III. Tyre. An ante-chamber in the Palace.


THALIARD. So, this is Tyre, and this the court. Here must I kill King Pericles; and if I do it not, I am sure to be hanged at home: 'tis dangerous. Well, I perceive he was a wise fellow, and had good discretion, that, being bid to ask what he would of the king, desired he might know none of his secrets: now do I see he had some reason for't; for if a king bid a man be a villain, he's bound by the indenture of his oath to be one. Husht, here come the lords of Tyre.


Enter Helicanus and Escanes with other Lords of Tyre.


HELICANUS. You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre, Further to question me of your king's departure: His seal'd commission, left in trust with me, Doth speak sufficiently he's gone to travel.


THALIARD. [Aside.] How? the king gone?


HELICANUS. If further yet you will be satisfied, Why, as it were unlicensed of your loves, He would depart, I'll give some light unto you. Being at Antioch—


THALIARD. [Aside.] What from Antioch?


HELICANUS. Royal Antiochus—on what cause I know not Took some displeasure at him; at least he judged so: And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd, To show his sorrow, he'd correct himself; So puts himself unto the shipman's toil, With whom each minute threatens life or death.


THALIARD. [Aside.] Well, I perceive I shall not be hang'd now, although I would; But since he's gone, the king's seas must please He 'scaped the land, to perish at the sea. I'll present myself. Peace to the lords of Tyre!


HELICANUS. Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome.


THALIARD. From him I come With message unto princely Pericles; But since my landing I have understood Your lord has betook himself to unknown travels, My message must return from whence it came.


HELICANUS. We have no reason to desire it, Commended to our master, not to us: Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire, As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre.


SCENE IV. Tarsus. A room in the Governor's house.


Enter Cleon, the governor of Tarsus, with Dionyza and others.


CLEON. My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, And by relating tales of others' griefs, See if 'twill teach us to forget our own?


DIONYZA. That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it; For who digs hills because they do aspire Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher. O my distressed lord, even such our griefs are; Here they're but felt, and seen with mischief's eyes, But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise.


CLEON. O Dionyza, Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it, Or can conceal his hunger till he famish? Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep Our woes into the air; our eyes do weep, Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder; That, if heaven slumber while their creatures want, They may awake their helps to comfort them. I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years, And wanting breath to speak, help me with tears.


CLEON. This Tarsus, o'er which I have the government, A city on whom plenty held full hand, For riches strew'd herself even in the streets; Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss'd the clouds, And strangers ne'er beheld but wonder'd at; Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd, Like one another's glass to trim them by: Their tables were stored full to glad the sight, And not so much to feed on as delight; All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great, The name of help grew odious to repeat.


DIONYZA. O, 'tis too true.


CLEON. But see what heaven can do! By this our change, These mouths, who but of late, earth, sea, and air, Were all too little to content and please, Although they gave their creatures in abundance, As houses are defiled for want of use, They are now starved for want of exercise: Those palates who, not yet two summers younger, Must have inventions to delight the taste, Would now be glad of bread and beg for it: Those mothers who, to nousle up their babes, Thought nought too curious, are ready now To eat those little darlings whom they loved. So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life: Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping; Here many sink, yet those which see them fall Have scarce strength left to give them burial. Is not this true?


DIONYZA. Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.


CLEON. O, let those cities that of plenty's cup And her prosperities so largely taste, With their superflous riots, hear these tears! The misery of Tarsus may be theirs.


LORD. Where's the lord governor?


CLEON. Here. Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st in haste, For comfort is too far for us to expect.


LORD. We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore, A portly sail of ships make hitherward.


CLEON. I thought as much. One sorrow never comes but brings an heir, That may succeed as his inheritor; And so in ours: some neighbouring nation, Taking advantage of our misery, That stuff'd the hollow vessels with their power, To beat us down, the which are down already; And make a conquest of unhappy me, Whereas no glory's got to overcome.


LORD. That's the least fear; for, by the semblance Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace, And come to us as favourers, not as foes.


CLEON. Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat: Who makes the fairest show means most deceit. But bring they what they will and what they can, What need we fear? The ground's the lowest, and we are half way there. Go tell their general we attend him here, To know for what he comes, and whence he comes, And what he craves.


CLEON. Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist; If wars, we are unable to resist.


Enter Pericles with Attendants.


PERICLES. Lord governor, for so we hear you are, Let not our ships and number of our men Be like a beacon fired to amaze your eyes. We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre, And seen the desolation of your streets: Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears, But to relieve them of their heavy load; And these our ships, you happily may think Are like the Trojan horse was stuff'd within With bloody veins, expecting overthrow, Are stored with corn to make your needy bread, And give them life whom hunger starved half dead.


ALL. The gods of Greece protect you! And we'll pray for you.


PERICLES. Arise, I pray you, rise: We do not look for reverence, but for love, And harbourage for ourself, our ships and men.


CLEON. The which when any shall not gratify, Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought, Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves, The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils! Till when,—the which I hope shall ne'er be seen,— Your grace is welcome to our town and us.


PERICLES. Which welcome we'll accept; feast here awhile, Until our stars that frown lend us a smile.


GOWER. Here have you seen a mighty king His child, iwis, to incest bring; A better prince and benign lord, That will prove awful both in deed and word. Be quiet then as men should be, Till he hath pass'd necessity. I'll show you those in troubles reign, Losing a mite, a mountain gain. The good in conversation, To whom I give my benison, Is still at Tarsus, where each man Thinks all is writ he speken can; And to remember what he does, Build his statue to make him glorious: But tidings to the contrary Are brought your eyes; what need speak I?


Dumb-show. Enter at one door Pericles talking with Cleon; all the train with them. Enter at another door a Gentleman with a letter to Pericles; Pericles shows the letter to Cleon; gives the Messenger a reward, and knights him. Exit Pericles at one door, and Cleon at another.


Good Helicane, that stay'd at home. Not to eat honey like a drone From others' labours; for though he strive To killen bad, keep good alive; And to fulfil his prince' desire, Sends word of all that haps in Tyre: How Thaliard came full bent with sin And had intent to murder him; And that in Tarsus was not best Longer for him to make his rest. He, doing so, put forth to seas, Where when men been, there's seldom ease; For now the wind begins to blow; Thunder above and deeps below Make such unquiet, that the ship Should house him safe is wreck'd and split; And he, good prince, having all lost, By waves from coast to coast is tost: All perishen of man, of pelf, Ne aught escapen but himself; Till Fortune, tired with doing bad, Threw him ashore, to give him glad: And here he comes. What shall be next, Pardon old Gower,—this longs the text.


SCENE I. Pentapolis. An open place by the seaside.


PERICLES. Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven! Wind, rain, and thunder, remember earthly man Is but a substance that must yield to you; And I, as fits my nature, do obey you: Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks, Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath Nothing to think on but ensuing death: Let it suffice the greatness of your powers To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes; And having thrown him from your watery grave, Here to have death in peace is all he'll crave.


Enter three Fishermen.


FIRST FISHERMAN. What, ho, Pilch!


SECOND FISHERMAN. Ha, come and bring away the nets!


FIRST FISHERMAN. What, Patch-breech, I say!


FIRST FISHERMAN. Look how thou stirrest now! Come away, or I'll fetch thee with a wanion.


THIRD FISHERMAN. Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that were cast away before us even now.


FIRST FISHERMAN. Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what pitiful cries they made to us to help them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce help ourselves.


THIRD FISHERMAN. Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the porpus how he bounced and tumbled? They say they're half fish, half flesh: a plague on them, they ne'er come but I look to be washed. Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea.


FIRST FISHERMAN. Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones: I can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale; a' plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at last devours them all at a mouthful. Such whales have I heard on o' the land, who never leave gaping till they swallowed the whole parish, church, steeple, bells and all.


PERICLES. [Aside.] A pretty moral.


THIRD FISHERMAN. But, master, if I had been the sexton, I would have been that day in the belfry.


THIRD FISHERMAN. Because he should have swallowed me too; and when I had been in his belly, I would have kept such a jangling of the bells, that he should never have left, till he cast bells, steeple, church and parish up again. But if the good King Simonides were of my mind,—


THIRD FISHERMAN. We would purge the land of these drones, that rob the bee of her honey.


PERICLES. [Aside.] How from the finny subject of the sea These fishers tell the infirmities of men; And from their watery empire recollect All that may men approve or men detect! Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen.


SECOND FISHERMAN. Honest! good fellow, what's that? If it be a day fits you, search out of the calendar, and nobody look after it.


PERICLES. May see the sea hath cast upon your coast.


SECOND FISHERMAN. What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our way!


PERICLES. A man whom both the waters and the wind, In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball For them to play upon, entreats you pity him; He asks of you, that never used to beg.


FIRST FISHERMAN. No, friend, cannot you beg? Here's them in our country of Greece gets more with begging than we can do with working.


SECOND FISHERMAN. Canst thou catch any fishes, then?


PERICLES. I never practised it.


SECOND FISHERMAN. Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure; for here's nothing to be got now-a-days, unless thou canst fish for't.


PERICLES. What I have been I have forgot to know; But what I am, want teaches me to think on: A man throng'd up with cold: my veins are chill, And have no more of life than may suffice To give my tongue that heat to ask your help; Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead, For that I am a man, pray see me buried.


FIRST FISHERMAN. Die quoth-a? Now gods forbid't, and I have a gown here; come, put it on; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a handsome fellow! Come, thou shalt go home, and we'll have flesh for holidays, fish for fasting-days, and moreo'er puddings and flap-jacks, and thou shalt be welcome.


PERICLES. I thank you, sir.


SECOND FISHERMAN. Hark you, my friend; you said you could not beg?


PERICLES. I did but crave.


SECOND FISHERMAN. But crave! Then I'll turn craver too, and so I shall 'scape whipping.


PERICLES. Why, are your beggars whipped, then?


SECOND FISHERMAN. O, not all, my friend, not all; for if all your beggars were whipped, I would wish no better office than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go draw up the net.


[Exit with Third Fisherman.]


PERICLES. [Aside.] How well this honest mirth becomes their labour!


FIRST FISHERMAN. Hark you, sir, do you know where ye are?


PERICLES. Not well.


FIRST FISHERMAN. Why, I'll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and our King, the good Simonides.


PERICLES. The good Simonides, do you call him?


FIRST FISHERMAN. Ay, sir; and he deserves so to be called for his peaceable reign and good government.


PERICLES. He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects the name of good government. How far is his court distant from this shore?


FIRST FISHERMAN. Marry sir, half a day's journey: and I'll tell you, he hath a fair daughter, and tomorrow is her birth-day; and there are princes and knights come from all parts of the world to joust and tourney for her love.


PERICLES. Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish to make one there.


FIRST FISHERMAN. O, sir, things must be as they may; and what a man cannot get, he may lawfully deal for—his wife's soul.


Re-enter Second and Third Fishermen, drawing up a net.


SECOND FISHERMAN. Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis come at last, and 'tis turned to a rusty armour.


PERICLES. An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it. Thanks, Fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses, Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself, And though it was mine own, part of my heritage, Which my dead father did bequeath to me, With this strict charge, even as he left his life. 'Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield 'Twixt me and death;'—and pointed to this brace;— 'For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity— The which the gods protect thee from!—may defend thee.' It kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it; Till the rough seas, that spares not any man, Took it in rage, though calm'd have given't again: I thank thee for't: my shipwreck now's no ill, Since I have here my father gave in his will.


FIRST FISHERMAN. What mean you sir?


PERICLES. To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth, For it was sometime target to a king; I know it by this mark. He loved me dearly, And for his sake I wish the having of it; And that you'd guide me to your sovereign court, Where with it I may appear a gentleman; And if that ever my low fortune's better, I'll pay your bounties; till then rest your debtor.


FIRST FISHERMAN. Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady?


PERICLES. I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms.


FIRST FISHERMAN. Why, d'ye take it, and the gods give thee good on't!


SECOND FISHERMAN. Ay, but hark you, my friend; 'twas we that made up this garment through the rough seams of the waters: there are certain condolements, certain vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remember from whence you had them.


PERICLES. Believe't I will. By your furtherance I am clothed in steel; And spite of all the rapture of the sea, This jewel holds his building on my arm: Unto thy value I will mount myself Upon a courser, whose delightful steps Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread. Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided Of a pair of bases.


SECOND FISHERMAN. We'll sure provide: thou shalt have my best gown to make thee a pair; and I'll bring thee to the court myself.


PERICLES. Then honour be but a goal to my will, This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill.


SCENE II. The same. A public way, or platform leading to the lists. A pavilion by the side of it for the reception of the King, Princess, Lords, etc.


Enter Simonides, Thaisa, Lords and Attendants.


SIMONIDES. Are the knights ready to begin the triumph?


FIRST LORD. They are, my liege; And stay your coming to present themselves.


SIMONIDES. Return them, we are ready; and our daughter, In honour of whose birth these triumphs are, Sits here, like beauty's child, whom Nature gat For men to see, and seeing wonder at.


THAISA. It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express My commendations great, whose merit's less.


SIMONIDES. It's fit it should be so; for princes are A model, which heaven makes like to itself: As jewels lose their glory if neglected, So princes their renowns if not respected. 'Tis now your honour, daughter, to entertain The labour of each knight in his device.


THAISA. Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll perform.


The first Knight passes by, and his Squire presents his shield to Thaisa.


SIMONIDES. Who is the first that doth prefer himself?


THAISA. A knight of Sparta, my renowned father; And the device he bears upon his shield Is a black Ethiope reaching at the sun: The word, Lux tua vita mihi.


SIMONIDES. He loves you well that holds his life of you.


The second Knight passes by, and his Squire presents his shield to Thaisa.


Who is the second that presents himself?


THAISA. A prince of Macedon, my royal father; And the device he bears upon his shield Is an arm'd knight that's conquer'd by a lady; The motto thus, in Spanish, Piu por dulzura que por forza.


The third Knight passes by, and his Squire presents his shield to Thaisa.