Othello. William Shakespeare
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thou art false as hell.
DESDEMONA
To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?
OTHELLO
O Desdemona!—away! away! away!
DESDEMONA
Alas the heavy day!—Why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
If haply you my father do suspect
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me: if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.
OTHELLO
Had it 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 fixèd figure for the time, for scorn
To point his slow unmoving finger at!—
Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner’d up my heart;
Where either I must live or bear no life,—
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
To knot and gender in!—turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp’d cherubin,—
Ay, there, look grim as hell!
DESDEMONA
I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
OTHELLO
O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
Who art so lovely fair, and smell’st so sweet,
That the sense aches at thee,—would thou hadst ne’er been born!
DESDEMONA
Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
OTHELLO
Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write “whore” upon? What committed!
Committed!—O thou public commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds.—What committed!
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
Is hush’d within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it.—What committed!—
Impudent strumpet!
DESDEMONA
By heaven, you do me wrong.
OTHELLO
Are not you a strumpet?
DESDEMONA
No, as I am a Christian:
If to preserve this vessel for my lord
From any other foul unlawful touch
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.
OTHELLO
What, not a whore?
DESDEMONA
No, as I shall be sav’d.
OTHELLO
Is’t possible?
DESDEMONA
O, heaven forgive us!
OTHELLO
I cry you mercy then:
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello.—You, mistress,
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell!
[Re-enter Emilia.]
You, you, ay, you!
We have done our course; there’s money for your pains:
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
[Exit.]
EMILIA
Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?—
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
DESDEMONA
Faith, half asleep.
EMILIA
Good madam, what’s the matter with my lord?
DESDEMONA
With who?
EMILIA
Why, with my lord, madam.
DESDEMONA
Who is thy lord?
EMILIA
He that is yours, sweet lady.
DESDEMONA
I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia;
I cannot weep; nor answer have I none
But what should go by water. Pr’ythee, tonight
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets,—remember;—
And call thy husband hither.
EMILIA
Here’s a change indeed!
[Exit.]
DESDEMONA
‘Tis meet I should be us’d so, very meet.
How have I been behav’d, that he might stick
The small’st opinion on my least misuse?
[Re-enter Emilia with Iago.]
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