Ia. I am glad of this: For now I shall haue reason To shew the Loue and Duty that I beare you With franker spirit. Therefore (as I am bound) Receiue it from me. I speake not yet of proofe: Looke to your wife, obserue her well with Cassio, Weare your eyes, thus: not Iealious, nor Secure: I would not haue your free, and Noble Nature, Out of selfe-Bounty, be abus'd: Looke too't: I know our Country disposition well: In Venice, they do let Heauen see the prankes They dare not shew their Husbands. Their best Conscience, Is not to leaue't vndone, but kept vnknowne

Oth. Dost thou say so? Iago. She did deceiue her Father, marrying you, And when she seem'd to shake, and feare your lookes, She lou'd them most

Oth. And so she did

Iago. Why go too then: Shee that so young could giue out such a Seeming To seele her Fathers eyes vp, close as Oake, He thought 'twas Witchcraft. But I am much too blame: I humbly do beseech you of your pardon For too much louing you

Oth. I am bound to thee for euer

Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your Spirits: Oth. Not a iot, not a iot

Iago. Trust me, I feare it has: I hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from your Loue. But I do see y'are moou'd: I am to pray you, not to straine my speech To grosser issues, nor to larger reach, Then to Suspition

Oth. I will not

Iago. Should you do so (my Lord) My speech should fall into such vilde successe, Which my Thoughts aym'd not. Cassio's my worthy Friend: My Lord, I see y'are mou'd

Oth. No, not much mou'd: I do not thinke but Desdemona's honest

Iago. Long liue she so; And long liue you to thinke so

Oth. And yet how Nature erring from it selfe

Iago. I, there's the point: As (to be bold with you) Not to affect many proposed Matches Of her owne Clime, Complexion, and Degree, Whereto we see in all things, Nature tends: Foh, one may smel in such, a will most ranke, Foule disproportions, Thoughts vnnaturall. But (pardon me) I do not in position Distinctly speake of her, though I may feare Her will, recoyling to her better iudgement, May fal to match you with her Country formes, And happily repent

Oth. Farewell, farewell: If more thou dost perceiue, let me know more: Set on thy wife to obserue. Leaue me Iago

Iago. My Lord, I take my leaue

Othel. Why did I marry? This honest Creature (doubtlesse) Sees, and knowes more, much more then he vnfolds

Iago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honor To scan this thing no farther: Leaue it to time, Although 'tis fit that Cassio haue his Place; For sure he filles it vp with great Ability; Yet if you please, to him off a-while: You shall by that perceiue him, and his meanes: Note if your Lady straine his Entertainment With any strong, or vehement importunitie, Much will be seene in that: In the meane time, Let me be thought too busie in my feares, (As worthy cause I haue to feare I am) And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor

Oth. Feare not my gouernment

Iago. I once more take my leaue. Enter.

Oth. This Fellow's of exceeding honesty, And knowes all Quantities with a learn'd Spirit Of humane dealings. If I do proue her Haggard, Though that her Iesses were my deere heart-strings, I'ld whistle her off, and let her downe the winde To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am blacke, And haue not those soft parts of Conuersation That Chamberers haue: Or for I am declin'd Into the vale of yeares (yet that's not much) Shee's gone. I am abus'd, and my releefe Must be to loath her. Oh Curse of Marriage! That we can call these delicate Creatures ours, And not their Appetites? I had rather be a Toad, And liue vpon the vapour of a Dungeon, Then keepe a corner in the thing I loue For others vses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones, Prerogatiu'd are they lesse then the Base, 'Tis destiny vnshunnable, like death: Euen then, this forked plague is Fated to vs, When we do quicken. Looke where she comes: Enter Desdemona and aemilia.

If she be false, Heauen mock'd it selfe: Ile not beleeue't

Des. How now, my deere Othello? Your dinner, and the generous Islanders By you inuited, do attend your presence

Oth. I am too blame

Des. Why do you speake so faintly? Are you not well? Oth. I haue a paine vpon my Forehead, heere

Des. Why that's with watching, 'twill away againe. Let me but binde it hard, within this houre It will be well

Oth. Your Napkin is too little: Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you. Enter.

Des. I am very sorry that you are not well. Aemil. I am glad I haue found this Napkin: This was her first remembrance from the Moore, My wayward Husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to steale it. But she so loues the Token, (For he coniur'd her, she should euer keepe it) That she reserues it euermore about her, To kisse, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out, And giu't Iago: what he will do with it Heauen knowes, not I: I nothing, but to please his Fantasie. Enter Iago.

Iago. How now? What do you heere alone? Aemil. Do not you chide: I haue a thing for you

Iago. You haue a thing for me? It is a common thing- Aemil. Hah? Iago. To haue a foolish wife. Aemil. Oh, is that all? What will you giue me now For that same Handkerchiefe

Iago. What Handkerchiefe? Aemil. What Handkerchiefe? Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona, That which so often you did bid me steale

Iago. Hast stolne it from her? Aemil. No: but she let it drop by negligence, And to th' aduantage, I being heere, took't vp: Looke, heere 'tis

Iago. A good wench, giue it me. Aemil. What will you do with't, that you haue bene so earnest to haue me filch it? Iago. Why, what is that to you? Aemil. If it be not for some purpose of import, Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, shee'l run mad When she shall lacke it

Iago. Be not acknowne on't: I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me.

Exit aemil.

I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin, And let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre, Are to the iealious, confirmations strong, As proofes of holy Writ. This may do something. The Moore already changes with my poyson: Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons, Which at the first are scarse found to distaste: But with a little acte vpon the blood, Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so. Enter Othello.

Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora, Nor all the drowsie Syrrups of the world Shall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepe Which thou owd'st yesterday

Oth. Ha, ha, false to mee? Iago. Why how now Generall? No more of that

Oth. Auant, be gone: Thou hast set me on the Racke: I sweare 'tis better to be much abus'd, Then but to know't a little

Iago. How now, my Lord? Oth. What sense had I, in her stolne houres of Lust? I saw't not, thought it not: it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, fed well, was free, and merrie. I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lippes: He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolne, Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all

Iago. I am sorry to heare this? Oth. I had beene happy, if the generall Campe, Pyoners and all, had tasted her sweet Body, So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for euer Farewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content; Farewell the plumed Troopes, and the bigge Warres, That makes Ambition, Vertue! Oh farewell, Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trumpe, The Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife, The Royall Banner, and all Qualitie, Pride, Pompe, and Circumstance of glorious Warre: And O you mortall Engines, whose rude throates Th' immortall Ioues dread Clamours, counterfet, Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone

Iago. Is't possible my Lord? Oth. Villaine, be sure thou proue my Loue a Whore; Be sure of it: Giue me the Occular proofe, Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule, Thou had'st bin better haue bin borne a Dog Then answer my wak'd wrath

Iago. Is't come to this? Oth. Make me to see't: or (at the least) so proue it, That the probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope, To hang a doubt on: Or woe vpon thy life

Iago. My Noble Lord

Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me, Neuer pray more: Abandon all remorse On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate: Do deeds to make Heauen weepe, all Earth amaz'd; For nothing canst thou to damnation adde, Greater then that

Iago. O Grace! O Heauen forgiue me! Are you a Man? Haue you a Soule? or Sense? God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Foole, That lou'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice! Oh monstrous world! Take note, take note (O World) To be direct and honest, is not safe. I thanke you for this profit, and from hence Ile loue no Friend, sith Loue breeds such offence

Oth. Nay stay: thou should'st be honest

Iago. I should be wise; for Honestie's a Foole, And looses that it workes for

Oth. By the World, I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not: I thinke that thou art iust, and thinke thou art not: Ile haue some proofe. My name that was as fresh As Dians Visage, is now begrim'd and blacke As mine owne face. If there be Cords, or Kniues, Poyson, or Fire, or suffocating streames, Ile not indure it. Would I were satisfied

Iago. I see you are eaten vp with Passion: I do repent me, that I put it to you. You would be satisfied? Oth. Would? Nay, and I will

Iago. And may: but how? How satisfied, my Lord? Would you the super-vision grossely gape on? Behold her top'd? Oth. Death, and damnation. Oh! Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I thinke, To bring them to that Prospect: Damne them then, If euer mortall eyes do see them boulster More then their owne. What then? How then? What shall I say? Where's Satisfaction? It is impossible you should see this, Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeyes, As salt as Wolues in pride, and Fooles as grosse As Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I say, If imputation, and strong circumstances, Which leade directly to the doore of Truth, Will giue you satisfaction, you might haue't

Oth. Giue me a liuing reason she's disloyall

Iago. I do not like the Office. But sith I am entred in this cause so farre (Prick'd too't by foolish Honesty, and Loue) I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately, And being troubled with a raging tooth, I could not sleepe. There are a kinde of men, So loose of Soule, that in their sleepes will mutter Their Affayres: one of this kinde is Cassio: In sleepe I heard him say, sweet Desdemona, Let vs be wary, let vs hide our Loues, And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand: Cry, oh sweet Creature: then kisse me hard, As if he pluckt vp kisses by the rootes, That grew vpon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh, And sigh, and kisse, and then cry cursed Fate, That gaue thee to the Moore

Oth. O monstrous! monstrous! Iago. Nay, this was but his Dreame

Oth. But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion, 'Tis a shrew'd doubt, though it be but a Dreame

Iago. And this may helpe to thicken other proofes, That do demonstrate thinly

Oth. Ile teare her all to peeces

Iago. Nay yet be wise; yet we see nothing done, She may be honest yet: Tell me but this, Haue you not sometimes seene a Handkerchiefe Spotted with Strawberries, in your wiues hand? Oth. I gaue her such a one: 'twas my first gift

Iago. I know not that: but such a Handkerchiefe (I am sure it was your wiues) did I to day See Cassio wipe his Beard with

Oth. If it be that

Iago. If it be that, or any, it was here. It speakes against her with the other proofes

Othel. O that the Slaue had forty thousand liues: One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Looke heere Iago, All my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone. Arise blacke vengeance, from the hollow hell, Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and hearted Throne To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosome with thy fraught, For 'tis of Aspickes tongues

Iago. Yet be content

Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood

Iago. Patience I say: your minde may change

Oth. Neuer Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea, Whose Icie Current, and compulsiue course, Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due on To the Proponticke, and the Hellespont: Euen so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace Shall neu'r looke backe, neu'r ebbe to humble Loue, Till that a capeable, and wide Reuenge Swallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen, In the due reuerence of a Sacred vow, I heere engage my words

Iago. Do not rise yet: Witnesse you euer-burning Lights aboue, You Elements, that clip vs round about, Witnesse that heere Iago doth giue vp The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody businesse euer

Oth. I greet thy loue, Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will vpon the instant put thee too't. Within these three dayes let me heare thee say, That Cassio's not aliue

Iago. My Friend is dead: 'Tis done at your Request. But let her liue

Oth. Damne her lewde Minx: O damne her, damne her. Come go with me a-part, I will withdraw To furnish me with some swift meanes of death For the faire Diuell. Now art thou my Lieutenant

Iago. I am your owne for euer.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Desdemona, aemilia, and Clown.

Des. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lyes? Clow. I dare not say he lies any where

Des. Why man? Clo. He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Souldier lyes, 'tis stabbing

Des. Go too: where lodges he? Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you where I lye

Des. Can any thing be made of this? Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuise a lodging, and say he lies heere, or he lies there, were to lye in mine owne throat

Des. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report? Clo. I will Catechize the world for him, that is, make Questions, and by them answer

Des. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will be well

Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.

Exit Clo.

Des. Where should I loose the Handkerchiefe, aemilia? Aemil. I know not Madam

Des. Beleeue me, I had rather haue lost my purse Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore Is true of minde, and made of no such basenesse, As iealious Creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill-thinking. Aemil. Is he not iealious? Des. Who, he? I thinke the Sun where he was borne, Drew all such humors from him. Aemil. Looke where he comes. Enter Othello.

Des. I will not leaue him now, till Cassio be Call'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord? Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to dissemble! How do you, Desdemona? Des. Well, my good Lord

Oth. Giue me your hand. This hand is moist, my Lady

Des. It hath felt no age, nor knowne no sorrow

Oth. This argues fruitfulnesse, and liberall heart: Hot, hot, and moyst. This hand of yours requires A sequester from Liberty: Fasting, and Prayer, Much Castigation, Exercise deuout, For heere's a yong, and sweating Diuell heere That commonly rebels: 'Tis a good hand, A franke one

Des. You may (indeed) say so: For 'twas that hand that gaue away my heart

Oth. A liberall hand. The hearts of old, gaue hands: But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts

Des. I cannot speake of this: Come, now your promise

Oth. What promise, Chucke? Des. I haue sent to bid Cassio come speake with you

Oth. I haue a salt and sorry Rhewme offends me: Lend me thy Handkerchiefe

Des. Heere my Lord

Oth. That which I gaue you

Des. I haue it not about me

Oth. Not? Des. No indeed, my Lord

Oth. That's a fault: That Handkerchiefe Did an aegyptian to my Mother giue: She was a Charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, 'T would make her Amiable, and subdue my Father Intirely to her loue: But if she lost it, Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eye Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt After new Fancies. She dying, gaue it me, And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd) To giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't, Make it a Darling, like your precious eye: To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition, As nothing else could match

Des. Is't possible? Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it: A Sybill that had numbred in the world The Sun to course, two hundred compasses, In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke: The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke, And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull Conseru'd of Maidens hearts

Des. Indeed? Is't true? Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well

Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't? Oth. Ha? wherefore? Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash? Oth. Is't lost? Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way? Des. Blesse vs

Oth. Say you? Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were? Oth. How? Des. I say it is not lost

Oth. Fetcht, let me see't

Des. Why so I can: but I will not now: This is a tricke to put me from my suite, Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe

Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe, My minde mis-giues

Des. Come, come: you'l neuer meete a more sufficient man

Oth. The Handkerchiefe

Des. A man that all his time Hath founded his good Fortunes on your loue; Shar'd dangers with you

Oth. The Handkerchiefe

Des. Insooth, you are too blame

Oth. Away.

Exit Othello.

Aemil. Is not this man iealious? Des. I neu'r saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe, I am most vnhappy in the losse of it. Aemil. 'Tis not a yeare or two shewes vs a man: They are all but Stomackes, and we all but Food, They eate vs hungerly, and when they are full They belch vs. Enter Iago, and Cassio.

Looke you, Cassio and my Husband

Iago. There is no other way: 'tis she must doo't: And loe the happinesse: go, and importune her

Des. How now (good Cassio) what's the newes with you? Cassio. Madam, my former suite. I do beseech you, That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe Exist, and be a member of his loue, Whom I, with all the Office of my heart Intirely honour, I would not be delayd. If my offence, be of such mortall kinde, That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes, Nor purpos'd merit in futurity, Can ransome me into his loue againe, But to know so, must be my benefit: So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content, And shut my selfe vp in some other course To Fortunes Almes

Des. Alas (thrice-gentle Cassio) My Aduocation is not now in Tune; My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him, Were he in Fauour, as in Humour alter'd. So helpe me euery spirit sanctified, As I haue spoken for you all my best, And stood within the blanke of his displeasure For my free speech. You must awhile be patient: What I can do, I will: and more I will Then for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you

Iago. Is my Lord angry? Aemil. He went hence but now: And certainly in strange vnquietnesse

Iago. Can he be angry? I haue seen the Cannon When it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre, And like the Diuell from his very Arme Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry? Something of moment then: I will go meet him, There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

Exit

Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State, Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practise Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him, Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases, Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things, Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so. For let our finger ake, and it endues Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense Of paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods, Nor of them looke for such obseruancie As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia, I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am) Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule: But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse, And he's Indited falsely. Aemil. Pray heauen it bee State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception, Nor no Iealious Toy, concerning you

Des. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him cause. Aemil. But Iealious soules will not be answer'd so; They are not euer iealious for the cause, But iealious, for they're iealious. It is a Monster Begot vpon it selfe, borne on it selfe

Des. Heauen keepe the Monster from Othello's mind. Aemil. Lady, Amen

Des. I will go seeke him. Cassio, walke heere about: If I doe finde him fit, Ile moue your suite, And seeke to effect it to my vttermost.

Exit

Cas. I humbly thanke your Ladyship. Enter Bianca.

Bian. 'Saue you (Friend Cassio.) Cassio. What make you from home? How is't with you, my most faire Bianca? Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house

Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Cassio. What? keepe a weeke away? Seuen dayes, and Nights? Eight score eight houres? And Louers absent howres More tedious then the Diall, eight score times? Oh weary reck'ning

Cassio. Pardon me, Bianca: I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest, But I shall in a more continuate time Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca Take me this worke out

Bianca. Oh Cassio, whence came this? This is some Token from a newer Friend, To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause: Is't come to this? Well, well

Cassio. Go too, woman: Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth, From whence you haue them. You are iealious now, That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance; No, in good troth Bianca

Bian. Why, who's is it? Cassio. I know not neither: I found it in my Chamber, I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded (As like enough it will) I would haue it coppied: Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time

Bian. Leaue you? Wherefore? Cassio. I do attend heere on the Generall, And thinke it no addition, nor my wish To haue him see me woman'd

Bian. Why, I pray you? Cassio. Not that I loue you not

Bian. But that you do not loue me. I pray you bring me on the way a little, And say, if I shall see you soone at night? Cassio. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you, For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone

Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd.

Exeunt. omnes.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Othello, and Iago.

Iago. Will you thinke so? Oth. Thinke so, Iago? Iago. What, to kisse in priuate? Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse? Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed, An houre, or more, not meaning any harme? Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme? It is hypocrisie against the Diuell: They that meane vertuously, and yet do so, The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen

Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip: But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe

Oth. What then? Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers, She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man

Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too: May she giue that? Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene, They haue it very oft, that haue it not. But for the Handkerchiefe

Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it: Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie, As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house: Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe

Iago . I: what of that? Othe. That's not so good now

Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong? Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad, Who hauing by their owne importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris, Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse But they must blab.) Oth. Hath he said any thing? Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd, No more then he'le vn-sweare

Oth. What hath he said? Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did

Othe. What? What? Iago. Lye

Oth. With her? Iago. With her? On her: what you will

Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her, when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome: Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse, and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd, and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish) Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe? O diuell.

Falls in a Traunce.

Iago. Worke on, My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught, And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus, (All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord? My Lord, I say: Othello. Enter Cassio.

How now Cassio? Cas. What's the matter? Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie, This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday

Cas. Rub him about the Temples

Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course: If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres: Do you withdraw your selfe a little while, He will recouer straight: when he is gone, I would on great occasion, speake with you. How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head? Othe. Dost thou mocke me? Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen: Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man

Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast

Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty, And many a ciuill Monster

Othe. Did he confesse it? Iago. Good Sir, be a man: Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue, That nightly lye in those vnproper beds, Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better. Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch; And to suppose her chast. No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe

Oth. Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine

Iago. Stand you a while apart, Confine your selfe but in a patient List, Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe (A passion most resulting such a man) Cassio came hither: I shifted him away, And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie, Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me, The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe, And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes That dwell in euery 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 againe to cope your wife. I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience, Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene, And nothing of a man

Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago, I will be found most cunning in my Patience: But (do'st thou heare) most bloody

Iago. That's not amisse, But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw? Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A Huswife that by selling her desires Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one) He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes. Enter Cassio.

As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad: And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant? Cas. The worser, that you giue me the addition, Whose want euen killes me

Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't: Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre, How quickely should you speed? Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe

Oth. Looke how he laughes already

Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so

Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me

Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out

Iago. Do you heare Cassio? Oth. Now he importunes him To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said

Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her. Do you intend it? Cas. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph? Cas. I marry. What? A customer; prythee beare Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes

Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her

Cas. Prythee say true

Iago. I am a very Villaine else

Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well

Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out: She is perswaded I will marry her Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise

Oth. Iago becomes me: now he begins the story

Cassio. She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery place. I was the other day talking on the Seabanke with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck

Oth. Crying oh deere Cassio, as it were: his iesture imports it

Cassio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me: So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha

Oth. Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber: oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dogge, I shall throw it to

Cassio. Well, I must leaue her companie

Iago. Before me: looke where she comes. Enter Bianca.

Cas. 'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one? What do you meane by this haunting of me? Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there. This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke? There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had it, Ile take out no worke on't

Cassio. How now, my sweete Bianca? How now? How now? Othe. By Heauen, that should be my Handkerchiefe

Bian. If you'le come to supper to night you may, if you will not come when you are next prepar'd for.

Exit

Iago. After her: after her

Cas. I must, shee'l rayle in the streets else

Iago. Will you sup there? Cassio. Yes, I intend so

Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very faine speake with you

Cas. Prythee come: will you? Iago. Go too; say no more

Oth. How shall I murther him, Iago

Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice? Oth. Oh, Iago

Iago. And did you see the Handkerchiefe? Oth. Was that mine? Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him and, he hath giu'n it his whore

Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing: A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman? Iago. Nay, you must forget that

Othello. I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an Emperours side, and command him Taskes

Iago. Nay, that's not your way

Othe. Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate with her Needle: an admirable Musitian. Oh she will sing the Sauagenesse out of a Beare: of so high and plenteous wit, and inuention? Iago. She's the worse for all this

Othe. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times: And then of so gentle a condition? Iago. I too gentle

Othe. Nay that's certaine: But yet the pitty of it, Iago: oh Iago, the pitty of it Iago

Iago. If you are so fond ouer her iniquitie: giue her pattent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere no body

Oth. I will chop her into Messes: Cuckold me? Iago. Oh, 'tis foule in her

Oth. With mine Officer? Iago. That's fouler

Othe. Get me some poyson, Iago, this night. Ile not expostulate with her: least her body and beautie vnprouide my mind againe: this night Iago

Iago. Do it not with poyson, strangle her in her bed, Euen the bed she hath contaminated

Oth. Good, good: The Iustice of it pleases: very good

Iago. And for Cassio, let me be his vndertaker: You shall heare more by midnight. Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants.

Othe. Excellent good: What Trumpet is that same? Iago. I warrant something from Venice, 'Tis Lodouico, this, comes from the Duke. See, your wife's with him

Lodo. Saue you worthy Generall

Othe. With all my heart Sir

Lod. The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you

Othe. I kisse the Instrument of their pleasures

Des. And what's the newes, good cozen Lodouico Iago. I am very glad to see you Signior: Welcome to Cyprus

Lod. I thanke you: how do's Lieutenant Cassio? Iago. Liues Sir, Des. Cozen, there's falne betweene him, & my Lord, An vnkind breach: but you shall make all well

Othe. Are you sure of that? Des. My Lord? Othe. This faile you not to do, as you will- Lod. He did not call: he's busie in the paper, Is there deuision 'twixt my Lord, and Cassio? Des. A most vnhappy one: I would do much T' attone, them, for the loue I beare to Cassio

Oth. Fire, and brimestone

Des. My Lord

Oth. Are you wise? Des. What is he angrie? Lod. May be the Letter mou'd him. For as I thinke, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his Gouernment

Des. Trust me, I am glad on't

Othe. Indeed? Des. My Lord? Othe. I am glad to see you mad

Des. Why, sweete Othello? Othe. Diuell

Des. I haue not deseru'd this

Lod. My Lord, this would not be beleeu'd in Venice, Though I should sweare I saw't. 'Tis very much, Make her amends: she weepes

Othe. Oh diuell, diuell: If that the Earth could teeme with womans teares, Each drop she falls, would proue a Crocodile: Out of my sight

Des. I will not stay to offend you

Lod. Truely obedient Lady: I do beseech your Lordship call her backe

Othe. Mistris

Des. My Lord

Othe. What would you with her, Sir? Lod. Who I, my Lord? Othe. I, you did wish, that I would make her turne: Sir, she can turne, and turne: and yet go on And turne againe. And she can weepe, Sir, weepe. And she's obedient: as you say obedient. Very obedient: proceed you in your teares. Concerning this Sir, (oh well-painted passion) I am commanded home: get you away: Ile send for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate, And will returne to Venice. Hence, auaunt: Cassio shall haue my Place. And Sir, to night I do entreat, that we may sup together. You are welcome Sir to Cyprus. Goates, and Monkeys. Enter.

Lod. Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full Senate Call all in all sufficient? Is this the Nature Whom Passion could not shake? Whose solid vertue The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance Could neither graze, nor pierce? Iago. He is much chang'd

Lod. Are his wits safe? Is he not light of Braine? Iago. He's that he is: I may not breath my censure. What he might be: if what he might, he is not, I would to heauen he were

Lod. What? Strike his wife? Iago. 'Faith that was not so well: yet would I knew That stroke would proue the worst

Lod. Is it his vse? Or did the Letters, worke vpon his blood, And new create his fault? Iago. Alas, alas: It is not honestie in me to speake What I haue seene, and knowne. You shall obserue him, And his owne courses will denote him so, That I may saue my speech: do but go after And marke how he continues

Lod. I am sorry that I am deceiu'd in him.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Othello and aemilia.

Othe. You haue seene nothing then? Aemil. Nor euer heard: nor euer did suspect

Othe. Yes, you haue seene Cassio, and she together

Aemi. But then I saw no harme: and then I heard, Each syllable that breath made vp betweene them

Othe. What? Did they neuer whisper? Aemil. Neuer my Lord

Othe. Nor send you out o'th' way? Aemil. Neuer

Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor nothing? Aemil. Neuer my Lord

Othe. That's strange. Aemil. I durst (my Lord) to wager, she is honest: Lay downe my Soule at stake: If you thinke other, Remoue your thought. It doth abuse your bosome: If any wretch haue put this in your head, Let Heauen requit it with the Serpents curse, For if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There's no man happy. The purest of their Wiues Is foule as Slander

Othe. Bid her come hither: go.

Exit aemilia.

She saies enough: yet she's a simple Baud That cannot say as much. This is a subtile Whore: A Closset Locke and Key of Villanous Secrets, And yet she'le kneele, and pray: I haue seene her do't. Enter Desdemona, and aemilia.

Des. My Lord, what is your will? Othe. Pray you Chucke come hither

Des. What is your pleasure? Oth. Let me see your eyes: looke in my face

Des. What horrible Fancie's this? Othe. Some of your Function Mistris: Leaue Procreants alone, and shut the doore: Cough, or cry hem; if any body come: Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.

Exit aemi.

Des. Vpon my knee, what doth your speech import? I vnderstand a Fury in your words

Othe. Why? What art thou? Des. Your wife my Lord: your true and loyall wife

Othello. Come sweare it: damne thy selfe, least being like one of Heauen, the diuells themselues should feare to ceaze thee. Therefore be double damn'd: sweare thou art honest

Des. Heauen doth truely know it

Othe. Heauen truely knowes, that thou art false as hell

Des. To whom my Lord? With whom? How am I false? Othe. Ah Desdemon, away, away, away

Des. Alas the heauy day: why do you weepe? Am I the motiue of these teares my Lord? If happely you my Father do suspect, An Instrument of this your calling backe, Lay not your blame on me: if you haue lost him, I haue lost him too

Othe. Had it pleas'd Heauen, To try me with Affliction, had they rain'd All kind of Sores, and Shames on my bare-head: Steep'd me in pouertie to the very lippes. Giuen to Captiuitie, me, and my vtmost hopes, I should haue found in some place of my Soule A drop of patience. But alas, to make me The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne, To point his slow, and mouing finger at. Yet could I beare that too, well, very well: But there where I haue garnerd vp my heart, Where either I must liue, or beare no life, The Fountaine from the which my currant runnes, Or else dries vp: to be discarded thence, Or keepe it as a Cesterne, for foule Toades To knot and gender in. Turne thy complexion there: Patience, thou young and Rose-lip'd Cherubin, I heere looke grim as hell

Des. I hope my Noble Lord esteemes me honest

Othe. Oh I, as Sommer Flyes are in the Shambles, That quicken euen with blowing. Oh thou weed: Who art so louely faire, and smell'st so sweete, That the Sense akes at thee, Would thou had'st neuer bin borne

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin haue I committed? Othe. Was this faire Paper? This most goodly Booke Made to write Whore vpon? What commited, Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner, I should make very Forges of my cheekes, That would to Cynders burne vp Modestie, Did I but speake thy deedes. What commited? Heauen stoppes the Nose at it, and the Moone winks: The baudy winde that kisses all it meetes, Is hush'd within the hollow Myne of Earth And will not hear't. What commited? Des. By Heauen you do me wrong

Othe. Are not you a Strumpet? Des. No, as I am a Christian. If to preserue this vessell for my Lord, From any other foule vnlawfull touch Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none

Othe. What, not a Whore? Des. No, as I shall be sau'd

Othe. Is't possible? Des. Oh Heauen forgiue vs

Othe. I cry you mercy then. I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice, That married with Othello. You Mistris, Enter aemilia.

That haue the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keepes the gate of hell. You, you: I you. We haue done our course: there's money for your paines: I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsaile. Enter.

Aemil. Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceiue? How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady? Des. Faith, halfe a sleepe

Aemi. Good Madam, What's the matter with my Lord? Des. With who? Aemil. Why, with my Lord, Madam? Des. Who is thy Lord? Aemil. He that is yours, sweet Lady

Des. I haue none: do not talke to me, aemilia, I cannot weepe: nor answeres haue I none, But what should go by water. Prythee to night, Lay on my bed my wedding sheetes, remember, And call thy husband hither. Aemil. Heere's a change indeed. Enter.

Des. 'Tis meete I should be vs'd so: very meete. How haue I bin behau'd, that he might sticke The small'st opinion on my least misvse? Enter Iago, and aemilia.

Iago. What is your pleasure Madam? How is't with you? Des. I cannot tell: those that do teach yong Babes Do it with gentle meanes, and easie taskes. He might haue chid me so; for in good faith I am a Child to chiding

Iago. What is the matter Lady? Aemil. Alas (Iago) my Lord hath so bewhor'd her, Throwne such dispight, and heauy termes vpon her That true hearts cannot beare it

Des. Am I that name, Iago? Iago. What name, (faire Lady?) Des. Such as she said my Lord did say I was. Aemil. He call'd her whore: a Begger in his drinke: Could not haue laid such termes vpon his Callet

Iago. Why did he so? Des. I do not know: I am sure I am none such

Iago. Do not weepe, do not weepe: alas the day. Aemil. Hath she forsooke so many Noble Matches? Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends? To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weepe? Des. It is my wretched Fortune

Iago. Beshrew him for't: How comes this Tricke vpon him? Des. Nay, Heauen doth know

Aemi. I will be hang'd, if some eternall Villaine, Some busie and insinuating Rogue, Some cogging, cozening Slaue, to get some Office, Haue not deuis'd this Slander: I will be hang'd else

Iago. Fie, there is no such man: it is impossible

Des. If any such there be, Heauen pardon him. Aemil. A halter pardon him: And hell gnaw his bones. Why should he call her Whore? Who keepes her companie? What Place? What Time? What Forme? What liklyhood? The Moore's abus'd by some most villanous Knaue, Some base notorious Knaue, some scuruy Fellow. Oh Heauens, that such companions thou'd'st vnfold, And put in euery honest hand a whip To lash the Rascalls naked through the world, Euen from the East to th' West

Iago. Speake within doore. Aemil. Oh fie vpon them: some such Squire he was That turn'd your wit, the seamy-side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moore

Iago. You are a Foole: go too

Des. Alas Iago, What shall I do to win my Lord againe? Good Friend, go to him: for by this light of Heauen, I know not how I lost him. Heere I kneele: If ere my will did trespasse 'gainst his Loue, Either in discourse of thought, or actuall deed, Or that mine Eyes, mine Eares, or any Sence Delighted them: or any other Forme. Or that I do not yet, and euer did, And euer will, (though he do shake me off To beggerly diuorcement) Loue him deerely, Comfort forsweare me. Vnkindnesse may do much, And his vnkindnesse may defeat my life, But neuer taynt my Loue. I cannot say Whore, It do's abhorre me now I speake the word, To do the Act, that might the addition earne, Not the worlds Masse of vanitie could make me

Iago. I pray you be content: 'tis but his humour: The businesse of the State do's him offence

Des. If 'twere no other

Iago. It is but so, I warrant, Hearke how these Instruments summon to supper: The Messengers of Venice staies the meate, Go in, and weepe not: all things shall be well.

Exeunt. Desdemona and aemilia.

Enter Rodorigo.

How now Rodorigo? Rod. I do not finde That thou deal'st iustly with me

Iago. What in the contrarie? Rodori. Euery day thou dafts me with some deuise Iago, and rather, as it seemes to me now, keep'st from me all conueniencie, then suppliest me with the least aduantage of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already I haue foolishly suffred

Iago. Will you heare me Rodorigo? Rodori. I haue heard too much: and your words and Performances are no kin together

Iago. You charge me most vniustly

Rodo. With naught but truth: I haue wasted my selfe out of my meanes. The Iewels you haue had from me to deliuer Desdemona, would halfe haue corrupted a Votarist. You haue told me she hath receiu'd them, and return'd me expectations and comforts of sodaine respect, and acquaintance, but I finde none

Iago. Well, go too: very well

Rod. Very well, go too: I cannot go too, (man) nor 'tis not very well. Nay I think it is scuruy: and begin to finde my selfe fopt in it

Iago. Very well

Rodor. I tell you, 'tis not very well: I will make my selfe knowne to Desdemona. If she will returne me my Iewels, I will giue ouer my Suit, and repent my vnlawfull solicitation. If not, assure your selfe, I will seeke satisfaction of you

Iago. You haue said now

Rodo. I: and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing

Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee: and euen from this instant do build on thee a better opinion then euer before: giue me thy hand Rodorigo. Thou hast taken against me a most iust exception: but yet I protest I haue dealt most directly in thy Affaire

Rod. It hath not appeer'd

Iago. I grant indeed it hath not appeer'd: and your suspition is not without wit and iudgement. But Rodorigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I haue greater reason to beleeue now then euer (I meane purpose, Courage, and Valour) this night shew it. If thou the next night following enioy not Desdemona, take me from this world with Treacherie, and deuise Engines for my life

Rod. Well: what is it? Is it within, reason and compasse? Iago. Sir, there is especiall Commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place

Rod. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona returne againe to Venice

Iago. Oh no: he goes into Mauritania and taketh away with him the faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode be lingred heere by some accident. Wherein none can be so determinate, as the remouing of Cassio

Rod. How do you meane remouing him? Iago. Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's place: knocking out his braines

Rod. And that you would haue me to do

Iago. I: if you dare do your selfe a profit, and a right. He sups to night with a Harlotry: and thither will I go to him. He knowes not yet of his Honourable Fortune, if you will watch his going thence (which I will fashion to fall out betweene twelue and one) you may take him at your pleasure. I will be neere to second your Attempt, and he shall fall betweene vs. Come, stand not amaz'd at it, but go along with me: I will shew you such a necessitie in his death, that you shall thinke your selfe bound to put it on him. It is now high supper time: and the night growes to wast. About it

Rod. I will heare further reason for this

Iago. And you shalbe satisfi'd.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, aemilia, and Atendants.

Lod. I do beseech you Sir, trouble your selfe no further

Oth. Oh pardon me: 'twill do me good to walke

Lodoui. Madam, good night: I humbly thanke your Ladyship

Des. Your Honour is most welcome

Oth. Will you walke Sir? Oh Desdemona

Des. My Lord

Othello. Get you to bed on th' instant, I will be return'd forthwith: dismisse your Attendant there: look't be done. Enter.

Des. I will my Lord

Aem. How goes it now? He lookes gentler then he did

Des. He saies he will returne incontinent, And hath commanded me to go to bed, And bid me to dismisse you

Aemi. Dismisse me? Des. It was his bidding: therefore good aemilia, Giue me my nightly wearing, and adieu. We must not now displease him. Aemil. I, would you had neuer seene him

Des. So would not I: my loue doth so approue him, That euen his stubbornesse, his checks, his frownes, (Prythee vn-pin me) haue grace and fauour

Aemi. I haue laid those Sheetes you bad me on the bed

Des. All's one: good Father, how foolish are our minds? If I do die before, prythee shrow'd me In one of these same Sheetes. Aemil. Come, come: you talke

Des. My Mother had a Maid call'd Barbarie, She was in loue: and he she lou'd prou'd mad, And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough, An old thing 'twas: but it express'd her Fortune, And she dy'd singing it. That Song to night, Will not go from my mind: I haue much to do, But to go hang my head all at one side And sing it like poore Barbarie: prythee dispatch

Aemi. Shall I go fetch your Night-gowne? Des. No, vn-pin me here, This Lodouico is a proper man. Aemil. A very handsome man

Des. He speakes well. Aemil. I know a Lady in Venice would haue walk'd barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip

Des. The poore Soule sat singing, by a Sicamour tree. Sing all a greene Willough: Her hand on her bosome her head on her knee, Sing Willough, Willough, Willough. The fresh Streames ran by her, and murmur'd her moanes Sing Willough, &c. Her salt teares fell from her, and softned the stones, Sing Willough, &c. (Lay by these) Willough, Willough. (Prythee high thee: he'le come anon) Sing all a greene Willough must be my Garland. Let no body blame him, his scorne I approue. (Nay that's not next. Harke, who is't that knocks? Aemil. It's the wind

Des. I call'd my Loue false Loue: but what said he then? Sing Willough, &c. If I court mo women, you'le couch with mo men. So get thee gone, good night: mine eyes do itch: Doth that boade weeping? Aemil. 'Tis neyther heere, nor there

Des. I haue heard it said so. O these Men, these men! Do'st thou in conscience thinke (tell me aemilia) That there be women do abuse their husbands In such grosse kinde? Aemil. There be some such, no question

Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world? Aemil. Why, would not you? Des. No, by this Heauenly light. Aemil. Nor I neither, by this Heauenly light: I might doo't as well i'th' darke

Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for al the world? Aemil. The world's a huge thing: It is a great price, for a small vice

Des. Introth, I thinke thou would'st not. Aemil. Introth I thinke I should, and vndoo't when I had done. Marry, I would not doe such a thing for a ioynt Ring, nor for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes, Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for all the whole world: why, who would not make her husband a Cuckold, to make him a Monarch? I should venture Purgatory for't

Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong For the whole world. Aemil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th' world; and hauing the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your owne world, and you might quickly make it right

Des. I do not thinke there is any such woman. Aemil. Yes, a dozen: and as many to'th' vantage, as would store the world they plaid for. But I do thinke it is their Husbands faults If Wiues do fall: (Say, that they slacke their duties, And powre our Treasures into forraigne laps; Or else breake out in peeuish Iealousies, Throwing restraint vpon vs: Or say they strike vs, Or scant our former hauing in despight) Why we haue galles: and though we haue some Grace, Yet haue we some Reuenge. Let Husbands know, Their wiues haue sense like them: They see, and smell, And haue their Palats both for sweet, and sowre, As Husbands haue. What is it that they do, When they change vs for others? Is it Sport? I thinke it is: and doth Affection breed it? I thinke it doth. Is't Frailty that thus erres? It is so too. And haue not we Affections? Desires for Sport? and Frailty, as men haue? Then let them vse vs well: else let them know, The illes we do, their illes instruct vs so

Des. Good night, good night: Heauen me such vses send, Not to picke bad, from bad; but by bad, mend.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Iago, and Rodorigo.

Iago. Heere, stand behinde this Barke, Straight will he come: Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home: Quicke, quicke, feare nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow, It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on that, And fixe most firme thy Resolution

Rod. Be neere at hand, I may miscarry in't

Iago. Heere, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand

Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the deed, And yet he hath giuen me satisfying Reasons: 'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies

Iago. I haue rub'd this yong Quat almost to the sense, And he growes angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo, He calles me to a restitution large Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him, As Guifts to Desdemona. It must not be: If Cassio do remaine, He hath a dayly beauty in his life, That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore May vnfold me to him: there stand I in much perill: No, he must dye. But so, I heard him comming. Enter Cassio.

Rod. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villaine thou dyest

Cas. That thrust had beene mine enemy indeed, But that my Coate is better then thou know'st: I will make proofe of thine

Rod. Oh, I am slaine

Cassio. I am maym'd for euer: Helpe hoa: Murther, murther. Enter Othello.

Oth. The voyce of Cassio. Iago keepes his word

Rod. O Villaine that I am

Oth. It is euen so

Cas. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon

Oth. 'Tis he: O braue Iago, honest, and iust, That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong, Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes dead, And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come: For of my heart, those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted. Thy Bed lust-stain'd, shall with Lusts blood bee spotted.

Exit Othello.

Enter Lodouico and Gratiano.

Cas. What hoa? no Watch? No passage? Murther, Murther

Gra. 'Tis some mischance, the voyce is very direfull

Cas. Oh helpe

Lodo. Hearke

Rod. Oh wretched Villaine

Lod. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night; These may be counterfeits: Let's think't vnsafe To come into the cry, without more helpe

Rod. Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death. Enter Iago.

Lod. Hearke

Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and Weapons

Iago. Who's there? Who's noyse is this that cries on murther? Lodo. We do not know

Iago. Do not you heare a cry? Cas. Heere, heere: for heauen sake helpe me

Iago. What's the matter? Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it

Lodo. The same indeede, a very valiant Fellow

Iago. What are you heere, that cry so greeuously? Cas. Iago? Oh I am spoyl'd, vndone by Villaines: Giue me some helpe

Iago. O mee, Lieutenant! What Villaines haue done this? Cas. I thinke that one of them is heereabout. And cannot make away

Iago. Oh treacherous Villaines: What are you there? Come in, and giue some helpe

Rod. O helpe me there

Cassio. That's one of them

Iago. Oh murd'rous Slaue! O Villaine! Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhumane Dogge! Iago. Kill men i'th' darke? Where be these bloody Theeues? How silent is this Towne? Hoa, murther, murther. What may you be? Are you of good, or euill? Lod. As you shall proue vs, praise vs

Iago. Signior Lodouico? Lod. He Sir

Iago. I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by Villaines

Gra. Cassio? Iago. How is't Brother? Cas. My Legge is cut in two

Iago. Marry heauen forbid: Light Gentlemen, Ile binde it with my shirt. Enter Bianca.

Bian. What is the matter hoa? Who is't that cry'd? Iago. Who is't that cry'd? Bian. Oh my deere Cassio, My sweet Cassio: Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio

Iago. O notable Strumpet. Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be, that haue thus mangled you? Cas. No

Gra. I am sorry to finde you thus; I haue beene to seeke you

Iago. Lend me a Garter. So: - Oh for a Chaire To beare him easily hence

Bian. Alas he faints. Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio

Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash To be a party in this Iniurie. Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no? Alas my Friend, and my deere Countryman Rodorigo? No: Yes sure: Yes, 'tis Rodorigo

Gra. What, of Venice? Iago. Euen he Sir: Did you know him? Gra. Know him? I

Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon: These bloody accidents must excuse my Manners, That so neglected you

Gra. I am glad to see you

Iago. How do you Cassio? Oh, a Chaire, a Chaire

Gra. Rodorigo? Iago. He, he, 'tis he: Oh that's well said, the Chaire. Some good man beare him carefully from hence, Ile fetch the Generall's Surgeon. For you Mistris, Saue you your labour. He that lies slaine heere (Cassio) Was my deere friend. What malice was between you

Cas. None in the world: nor do I know the man? Iago. What? looke you pale? Oh beare him o'th' Ayre. Stay you good Gentlemen. Looke you pale, Mistris? Do you perceiue the gastnesse of her eye? Nay, if you stare, we shall heare more anon. Behold her well: I pray you looke vpon her: Do you see Gentlemen? Nay, guiltinesse will speake Though tongues were out of vse. Aemil. Alas, what is the matter? What is the matter, Husband? Iago. Cassio hath heere bin set on in the darke By Rodorigo, and Fellowes that are scap'd: He's almost slaine, and Rodorigo quite dead. Aemil. Alas good Gentleman: alas good Cassio

Iago. This is the fruits of whoring. Prythe aemilia, Go know of Cassio where he supt to night. What, do you shake at that? Bian. He supt at my house, but I therefore shake not

Iago. O did he so? I charge you go with me. Aemil. Oh fie vpon thee Strumpet

Bian. I am no Strumpet, but of life as honest, As you that thus abuse me. Aemil. As I? Fie vpon thee

Iago. Kinde Gentlemen: Let's go see poore Cassio drest. Come Mistris, you must tel's another Tale. aemilia, run you to the Cittadell, And tell my Lord and Lady, what hath happ'd: Will you go on afore? This is the night That either makes me, or foredoes me quight.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Othello, and Desdemona in her bed.

Oth. It is the Cause, it is the Cause (my Soule) Let me not name it to you, you chaste Starres, It is the Cause. Yet Ile not shed her blood, Nor scarre that whiter skin of hers, then Snow, And smooth as Monumentall Alablaster: Yet she must dye, else shee'l betray more men: Put out the Light, and then put out the Light: If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister, I can againe thy former light restore, Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light, Thou cunning'st Patterne of excelling Nature, I know not where is that Promethaean heate That can thy Light re-Lume. When I haue pluck'd thy Rose, I cannot giue it vitall growth againe, It needs must wither. Ile smell thee on the Tree. Oh Balmy breath, that dost almost perswade Iustice to breake her Sword. One more, one more: Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And loue thee after. One more, and that's the last. So sweet, was ne're so fatall. I must weepe, But they are cruell Teares: This sorrow's heauenly, It strikes, where it doth loue. She wakes

Des. Who's there? Othello? Othel. I Desdemona

Des. Will you come to bed, my Lord? Oth. Haue you pray'd to night, Desdemon? Des. I my Lord

Oth. If you bethinke your selfe of any Crime Vnreconcil'd as yet to Heauen, and Grace, Solicite for it straight

Des. Alacke, my Lord, What may you meane by that? Oth. Well, do it, and be breefe, I will walke by: I would not kill thy vnprepared Spirit, No, Heauens fore-fend) I would not kill thy Soule

Des. Talke you of killing? Oth. I, I do

Des. Then Heauen haue mercy on mee

Oth. Amen, with all my heart

Des. If you say, I hope you will not kill me

Oth. Humh

Des. And yet I feare you: for you're fatall then When your eyes rowle so. Why I should feare, I know not, Since guiltinesse I know not: But yet I feele I feare

Oth. Thinke on thy sinnes

Des. They are Loues I beare to you

Oth. I, and for that thou dy'st

Des. That death's vnnaturall, that kils for louing. 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

Oth. Peace, and be still

Des. I will so: What's the matter? Oth. That Handkerchiefe Which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'st to Cassio

Des. No by my Life, and Soule: send for the man, And aske him

Oth. Sweet Soule, take heed, take heed of Periury, Thou art on thy death-bed

Des. I, but not yet to dye

Oth. Presently. Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne: For to deny each Article with Oath, Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye

Des. O Heauen haue mercy on me

Oth. I say, Amen

Des. And haue you mercy too. I neuer did Offend you in my life: neuer lou'd Cassio, But with such generall warrantie of Heauen, As I might loue. I neuer gaue him Token

Oth. By Heauen I saw my Handkerchiefe in's hand. O periur'd woman, thou do'st stone my heart, And makes me call, what I intend to do, A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice. I saw the Handkerchiefe

Des. He found it then: I neuer gaue it him: Send, for him hither: Let him confesse a truth

Oth. He hath confest

Des. What, my Lord? Oth. That he hath vs'd thee

Des. How? vnlawfully? Oth. I

Des. He will not say so

Oth. No: his mouth is stopp'd: Honest Iago hath 'tane order for't

Des. Oh, my feare interprets. What is he dead? Oth. Had all his haires bin liues, my great Reuenge Had stomacke for them all

Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I vndone

Oth. Out Strumpet: weep'st thou for him to my face? Des. O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not

Oth. Downe Strumpet

Des. Kill me to morrow, let me liue to night

Oth. Nay, if you striue

Des. But halfe an houre

Oth. Being done, there is no pawse

Des. But while I say one prayer

Oth. It is too late.

Smothers her.

aemilia at the doore.

Aemil. My Lord, my Lord? What hoa? My Lord, my Lord

Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruell, am yet mercifull, I would not haue thee linger in thy paine? So, so. Aemil. within. What hoa? my Lord, my Lord? Oth. Who's there? Aemil. Oh good my Lord, I would speake a word with you

Oth. Yes: 'Tis aemilia: by and by. Shee's dead. 'Tis like she comes to speake of Cassio's death: The noise was high. Hah, no more moouing? Still as the Graue. Shall she come in? Wer't good? I thinke she stirres againe. No, what's best to do? If she come in, shee'l sure speake to my wife: My wife, my wife: what wife? I haue no wife. Oh insupportable! Oh heauy houre! Me thinkes, it should be now a huge Eclipse Of Sunne, and Moone; and that th' affrighted Globe Did yawne at Alteration. Aemil. I do beseech you That I may speake with you. Oh good my Lord

Oth. I had forgot thee: oh come in aemilia. Soft, by and by, let me the Curtaines draw. Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now? Enter aemilia.

Aemil. Oh my good Lord, yonders foule Murthers done

Oth. What? now? Aemil. But now, my Lord

Oth. It is the very error of the Moone, She comes more neerer Earth then she was wont, And makes men mad. Aemil. Cassio, my Lord, hath kill'd A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo

Oth. Rodorigo kill'd? and Cassio kill'd? Aemil. No, Cassio is not kill'd

Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then Murther's out of tune, And sweet Reuenge growes harsh

Des. O falsely, falsely murder'd. Aemil. Alas! what cry is that? Oth. That? What? Aemil. Out, and alas, that was my Ladies voice. Helpe, helpe hoa, helpe. Oh Ladie speake againe, Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet Mistris, speake

Des. A guiltlesse death, I dye. Aemil. Oh who hath done this deed? Des. No body: I my selfe, farewell: Commend me to my kinde Lord: oh farewell

Oth. Why, how should she be murdred? Aemil. Alas: who knowes? Oth. You heare her say her selfe, it was not I. Aemil. She said so: I must needs report the truth

Oth. She's like a Liar gone to burning hell, 'Twas I that kill'd her. Aemil. Oh the more Angell she, and you the blacker Diuell

Oth. She turn'd to folly: and she was a whore. Aemil. Thou do'st bely her, and thou art a diuell

Oth. She was false as water. Aemil. Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false. Oh she was heauenly true

Oth. Cassio did top her: Ask thy husband else. O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell: But that I did proceed vpon iust grounds To this extremity. Thy Husband knew it all. Aemil. My Husband? Oth. Thy Husband. Aemil. That she was false to Wedlocke? Oth. I, with Cassio: had she bin true, If Heauen would make me such another world, Of one entyre and perfect Chrysolite, I'ld not haue sold her for it. Aemil. My Husband? Oth. I, 'twas he that told me on her first, An honest man he is, and hates the slime That stickes on filthy deeds. Aemil. My Husband? Oth. What needs this itterance, Woman? I say, thy Husband. Aemil. Oh Mistris, Villany hath made mockes with loue: My Husband say she was false? Oth. He, Woman; I say thy Husband: Do'st vnderstand the word? My Friend, thy Husband; honest, honest Iago. Aemil. If he say so, may his pernicious Soule Rot halfe a graine a day: he lyes to'th' heart, She was too fond of her most filthy Bargaine

Oth. Hah? Aemil. Do thy worst: This deede of thine is no more worthy Heauen, Then thou was't worthy her

Oth. Peace, you were best. Aemil. Thou hast not halfe that powre to do me harm, As I haue to be hurt. Oh Gull, oh dolt, As ignorant as durt: thou hast done a deed (I care not for thy Sword) Ile make thee known, Though I lost twenty liues. Helpe, helpe, hoa, helpe: The Moore hath kill'd my Mistris. Murther, murther. Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.

Mon. What is the matter? How now Generall? Aemil. Oh, are you come, Iago: you haue done well, That men must lay their Murthers on your necke

Gra. What is the matter? Aemil. Disproue this Villaine, if thou bee'st a man: He sayes, thou told'st him that his wife was false: I know thou did'st not: thou'rt not such a Villain. Speake, for my heart is full

Iago. I told him what I thought, And told no more Then what he found himselfe was apt, and true. Aemil. But did you euer tell him, She was false? Iago. I did. Aemil. You told a Lye an odious damned Lye: Vpon my Soule, a Lye; a wicked Lye. Shee false with Cassio? Did you say with Cassio? Iago. With Cassio, Mistris? Go too, charme your tongue

Emil. I will not charme my Tongue; I am bound to speake, My Mistris heere lyes murthered in her bed

All. Oh Heauens, forefend

Emil. And your reports haue set the Murder on

Othello. Nay stare not Masters, It is true indeede

Gra. 'Tis a strange Truth

Mont. O monstrous Acte

Emil. Villany, villany, villany: I thinke vpon't, I thinke: I smel't: O Villany: I thought so then: Ile kill my selfe for greefe. O villany! villany! Iago. What, are you mad? I charge you get you home

Emil. Good Gentlemen, let me haue leaue to speake: 'Tis proper I obey him; but not now: Perchance Iago, I will ne're go home

Oth. Oh, oh, oh

Emil. Nay, lay thee downe, and roare: For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent, That ere did lift vp eye

Oth. Oh she was fowle! I scarse did know you Vnkle, there lies your Neece, Whose breath (indeed) these hands haue newly stopp'd: I know this acte shewes horrible and grim

Gra. Poore Desdemon: I am glad thy Father's dead, Thy Match was mortall to him: and pure greefe Shore his old thred in twaine. Did he liue now, This sight would make him do a desperate turne: Yea, curse his better Angell from his side, And fall to Reprobance

Oth. 'Tis pittifull: but yet Iago knowes That she with Cassio, hath the Act of shame A thousand times committed. Cassio confest it, And she did gratifie his amorous workes With that Recognizance and pledge of Loue Which I first gaue her: I saw it in his hand: It was a Handkerchiefe, an Antique Token My Father gaue my Mother

Emil. Oh Heauen! oh heauenly Powres! Iago. Come, hold your peace

Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace? No, I will speake as liberall as the North; Let Heauen, and Men, and Diuels, let them all, All, all, crie shame against me, yet Ile speake

Iago. Be wise, and get you home

Emil. I will not

Gra. Fye, your Sword vpon a Woman

Emil. Oh thou dull Moore, That Handkerchiefe thou speak'st of I found by Fortune, and did giue my Husband: For often, with a solemne earnestnesse, (More then indeed belong'd to such a Trifle) He begg'd of me, to steale't

Iago. Villanous Whore

Emil. She giue it Cassio? No, alas I found it, And I did giu't my Husband

Iago. Filth, thou lyest

Emil. By Heauen I do not, I do not Gentlemen: Oh murd'rous Coxcombe, what should such a Foole Do with so good a wife? Oth. Are there no stones in Heauen, But what serues for the Thunder? Precious Villaine

Gra. The woman falles: Sure he hath kill'd his Wife

Emil. I, I: oh lay me by my Mistris side

Gra. Hee's gone, but his wife's kill'd

Mon. 'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon Which I haue recouer'd from the Moore: Come guard the doore without, let him not passe, But kill him rather. Ile after that same villaine, For 'tis a damned Slaue. Enter.

Oth. I am not valiant neither: But euery Punie whipster gets my Sword. But why should Honor out-liue Honesty? Let it go all. Aemil. What did thy Song boad Lady? Hearke, canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan, And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough. Moore, she was chaste: She lou'd thee, cruell Moore, So come my Soule to blisse, as I speake true: So speaking as I thinke, alas, I dye

Oth. I haue another weapon in this Chamber, It was a Sword of Spaine, the Ice brookes temper: Oh heere it is: Vnkle I must come forth

Gra. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee deere; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer

Oth. Looke in vpon me then, and speake with me, Or naked as I am I will assault thee

Gra. What is the matter? Othel. Behold, I haue a weapon: A better neuer did it selfe sustaine Vpon a Soldiers Thigh. I haue seene the day, That with this little Arme, and this good Sword, I haue made my way through more impediments Then twenty times your stop. But (oh vaine boast) Who can controll his Fate? 'Tis not so now. Be not affraid, though you do see me weapon'd: Heere is my iournies end, heere is my butt And verie Sea-marke of my vtmost Saile. Do you go backe dismaid? 'Tis a lost feare: Man but a Rush against Othello's brest, And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now: how dost thou looke now? Oh ill-Starr'd wench, Pale as thy Smocke: when we shall meete at compt, This looke of thine will hurle my Soule from Heauen, And Fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girle? Euen like thy Chastity. O cursed, cursed Slaue! Whip me ye Diuels, From the possession of this Heauenly sight: Blow me about in windes, roast me in Sulphure, Wash me in steepe-downe gulfes of Liquid fire. Oh Desdemon! dead Desdemon: dead. Oh, oh! Enter Lodouico, Cassio, Montano, and Iago, with Officers.

Lod. Where is this rash, and most vnfortunate man? Oth. That's he that was Othello: heere I am

Lod. Where is that Viper? Bring the Villaine forth

Oth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a Fable, If that thou bee'st a Diuell, I cannot kill thee

Lod. Wrench his Sword from him

Iago. I bleed Sir, but not kill'd

Othel. I am not sorry neither, Il'd haue thee liue: For in my sense, 'tis happinesse to die

Lod. Oh thou Othello, that was once so good, Falne in the practise of a cursed Slaue, What shall be saide to thee

Oth. Why any thing: An honourable Murderer, if you will: For nought I did in hate, but all in Honour

Lod. This wretch hath part confest his Villany: Did you and he consent in Cassio's death

Oth. I

Cas. Deere Generall, I neuer gaue you cause

Oth. I do beleeue it, and I aske your pardon: Will you, I pray, demand that demy-Diuell, Why he hath thus ensnar'd my Soule and Body

Iag. Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: From this time forth, I neuer will speake word

Lod. What? not to pray? Gra. Torments will ope your lips

Oth. Well, thou dost best

Lod. Sir, You shall vnderstand what hath befalne, (Which, as I thinke, you know not) heere is a Letter Found in the pocket of the slaine Rodorigo, And heere another, the one of them imports The death of Cassio, to be vndertooke By Rodorigo

Oth. O Villaine! Cassio. Most Heathenish, and most grosse

Lod. Now, heere's another discontented paper Found in his pocket too: and this it seemes Rodorigo meant t'haue sent this damned villaine: But that (belike) Iago in the interim Came in, and satisfi'd him

Oth. Oh thou pernitious Caitiffe; How came you (Cassio) by that Handkerchiefe That was my wiues? Cassio. I found it in my Chamber: And he himselfe confest it but euen now, That there he dropt it for a speciall purpose, Which wrought to his desire

Othel. O Foole, foole, foole! Cassio. There is besides, in Rodorigo's Letter, How he vpbraides Iago, that he made him Braue me vpon the Watch: whereon it came That I was cast: and euen but now he spake (After long seeming dead) Iago hurt him, Iago set him on

Lod. You must forsake this roome, and go with vs: Your Power, and your Command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this Slaue, If there be any cunning Crueltie, 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 knowne To the Venetian State. Come, bring away

Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you goe: I haue done the State some seruice, and they know't: No more of that. I pray you in your Letters, When you shall these vnluckie deeds relate, Speake of me, as I am. Nothing extenuate, Nor set downe ought in malice. Then must you speake, Of one that lou'd not wisely, but too well: Of one, not easily Iealious, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreame: Of one, whose hand (Like the base Iudean) threw a Pearle away Richer then all his Tribe: Of one, whose subdu'd Eyes, Albeit vn-vsed to the melting moode, Drops teares as fast as the Arabian Trees Their Medicinable gumme. Set you downe this: And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant, and a Turbond-Turke Beate a Venetian, and traduc'd the State, I tooke by th' throat the circumcised Dogge, And smoate him, thus

Lod. Oh bloody period

Gra. All that is spoke, is marr'd

Oth. I kist thee, ere I kill'd thee: No way but this, Killing my selfe, to dye vpon a kisse.

Dyes

Cas. This did I feare, but thought he had no weapon: For he was great of heart

Lod. Oh Sparton Dogge: More fell then Anguish, Hunger, or the Sea: Looke on the Tragicke Loading of this bed: This is thy worke: The Obiect poysons Sight, Let it be hid. Gratiano, keepe the house, And seize vpon the Fortunes of the Moore, For they succeede on you. To you, Lord Gouernor, Remaines the Censure of this hellish villaine: The Time, the Place, the Torture, oh inforce it: My selfe will straight aboord, and to the State, This heauie Act, with heauie heart relate.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

The Names of the Actors.

Othello, the Moore. Brabantio, Father to Desdemona. Cassio, an Honourable Lieutenant. Iago, a Villaine. Rodorigo, a gull'd Gentleman. Duke of Venice. Senators. Montano, Gouernour of Cyprus. Gentlemen of Cyprus. Lodouico, and Gratiano, two Noble Venetians. Saylors. Clowne. Desdemona, Wife to Othello. Aemilia, Wife to Iago. Bianca, a Curtezan.

THE TRAGEDIE OF Othello, the Moore of Venice.

The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Demetrius and Philo.

Philo. Nay, but this dotage of our Generals Ore-flowes the measure: those his goodly eyes That o're the Files and Musters of the Warre, Haue glow'd like plated Mars: Now bend, now turne The Office and Deuotion of their view Vpon a Tawny Front. His Captaines heart, Which in the scuffles of great Fights hath burst The Buckles on his brest, reneages all temper, And is become the Bellowes and the Fan To coole a Gypsies Lust.

Flourish. Enter Anthony, Cleopatra, her Ladies, the Traine, with Eunuchs fanning her.

Looke where they come: Take but good note, and you shall see in him (The triple Pillar of the world) transform'd Into a Strumpets Foole. Behold and see

Cleo. If it be Loue indeed, tell me how much

Ant. There's beggery in the loue that can be reckon'd Cleo. Ile set a bourne how farre to be belou'd

Ant. Then must thou needes finde out new Heauen, new Earth. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Newes (my good Lord) from Rome

Ant. Grates me, the summe

Cleo. Nay heare them Anthony. Fuluia perchance is angry: Or who knowes, If the scarse-bearded Caesar haue not sent His powrefull Mandate to you. Do this, or this; Take in that Kingdome, and Infranchise that: Perform't, or else we damne thee

Ant. How, my Loue? Cleo. Perchance? Nay, and most like: You must not stay heere longer, your dismission Is come from Caesar, therefore heare it Anthony, Where's Fuluias Processe? (Caesars I would say) both? Call in the Messengers: As I am Egypts Queene, Thou blushest Anthony, and that blood of thine Is Caesars homager: else so thy cheeke payes shame, When shrill-tongu'd Fuluia scolds. The Messengers

Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt, and the wide Arch Of the raing'd Empire fall: Heere is my space, Kingdomes are clay: Our dungie earth alike Feeds Beast as Man; the Noblenesse of life Is to do thus: when such a mutuall paire, And such a twaine can doo't, in which I binde One paine of punishment, the world to weete We stand vp Peerelesse

Cleo. Excellent falshood: Why did he marry Fuluia, and not loue her? Ile seeme the Foole I am not. Anthony will be himselfe

Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra. Now for the loue of Loue, and her soft houres, Let's not confound the time with Conference harsh; There's not a minute of our liues should stretch Without some pleasure now. What sport to night? Cleo. Heare the Ambassadors

Ant. Fye wrangling Queene: Whom euery thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, To weepe: who euery passion fully striues To make it selfe (in Thee) faire, and admir'd. No Messenger but thine, and all alone, to night Wee'l wander through the streets, and note The qualities of people. Come my Queene, Last night you did desire it. Speake not to vs.

Exeunt. with the Traine.

Dem. Is Caesar with Anthonius priz'd so slight? Philo. Sir, sometimes when he is not Anthony, He comes too short of that great Property Which still should go with Anthony

Dem. I am full sorry, that hee approues the common Lyar, who thus speakes of him at Rome; but I will hope of better deeds to morrow. Rest you happy.

Exeunt.

Enter Enobarbus, Lamprius, a Southsayer, Rannius, Lucillius, Charmian, Iras, Mardian the Eunuch, and Alexas.

Char. L[ord]. Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the Soothsayer that you prais'd so to'th' Queene? Oh that I knewe this Husband, which you say, must change his Hornes with Garlands

Alex. Soothsayer

Sooth. Your will? Char. Is this the Man? Is't you sir that know things? Sooth. In Natures infinite booke of Secrecie, a little I can read

Alex. Shew him your hand

Enob. Bring in the Banket quickly: Wine enough, Cleopatra's health to drinke

Char. Good sir, giue me good Fortune

Sooth. I make not, but foresee

Char. Pray then, foresee me one

Sooth. You shall be yet farre fairer then you are

Char. He meanes in flesh

Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old

Char. Wrinkles forbid

Alex. Vex not his prescience, be attentiue

Char. Hush

Sooth. You shall be more belouing, then beloued

Char. I had rather heate my Liuer with drinking

Alex. Nay, heare him

Char. Good now some excellent Fortune: Let mee be married to three Kings in a forenoone, and Widdow them all: Let me haue a Childe at fifty, to whom Herode of Iewry may do Homage. Finde me to marrie me with Octauius Caesar, and companion me with my Mistris

Sooth. You shall out-liue the Lady whom you serue

Char. Oh excellent, I loue long life better then Figs

Sooth. You haue seene and proued a fairer former fortune, then that which is to approach

Char. Then belike my Children shall haue no names: Prythee how many Boyes and Wenches must I haue

Sooth. If euery of your wishes had a wombe, & foretell euery wish, a Million

Char. Out Foole, I forgiue thee for a Witch

Alex. You thinke none but your sheets are priuie to your wishes

Char. Nay come, tell Iras hers

Alex. Wee'l know all our Fortunes

Enob. Mine, and most of our Fortunes to night, shall be drunke to bed

Iras. There's a Palme presages Chastity, if nothing els

Char. E'ne as the o're-flowing Nylus presageth Famine

Iras. Go you wilde Bedfellow, you cannot Soothsay

Char. Nay, if an oyly Palme bee not a fruitfull Prognostication, I cannot scratch mine eare. Prythee tel her but a worky day Fortune

Sooth. Your Fortunes are alike

Iras. But how, but how, giue me particulars

Sooth. I haue said

Iras. Am I not an inch of Fortune better then she? Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better then I: where would you choose it

Iras. Not in my Husbands nose

Char. Our worser thoughts Heauens mend

Alexas. Come, his Fortune, his Fortune. Oh let him mary a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee, and let her dye too, and giue him a worse, and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his graue, fifty-fold a Cuckold. Good Isis heare me this Prayer, though thou denie me a matter of more waight: good Isis I beseech thee

Iras. Amen, deere Goddesse, heare that prayer of the people. For, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-Wiu'd, so it is a deadly sorrow, to beholde a foule Knaue vncuckolded: Therefore deere Isis keep decorum, and Fortune him accordingly

Char. Amen

Alex. Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make mee a Cuckold, they would make themselues Whores, but they'ld doo't. Enter Cleopatra.

Enob. Hush, heere comes Anthony

Char. Not he, the Queene

Cleo. Saue you, my Lord

Enob. No Lady

Cleo. Was he not heere? Char. No Madam

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth, but on the sodaine A Romane thought hath strooke him. Enobarbus? Enob. Madam

Cleo. Seeke him, and bring him hither: wher's Alexias? Alex. Heere at your seruice. My Lord approaches. Enter Anthony, with a Messenger.

Cleo. We will not looke vpon him: Go with vs.

Exeunt.

Messen. Fuluia thy Wife, First came into the Field

Ant. Against my Brother Lucius? Messen. I: but soone that Warre had end, And the times state Made friends of them, ioynting their force 'gainst Caesar, Whose better issue in the warre from Italy, Vpon the first encounter draue them

Ant. Well, what worst

Mess. The Nature of bad newes infects the Teller

Ant. When it concernes the Foole or Coward: On. Things that are past, are done, with me. 'Tis thus, Who tels me true, though in his Tale lye death, I heare him as he flatter'd

Mes. Labienus (this is stiffe-newes) Hath with his Parthian Force Extended Asia: from Euphrates his conquering Banner shooke, from Syria to Lydia, And to Ionia, whil'st- Ant. Anthony thou would'st say

Mes. Oh my Lord

Ant. Speake to me home, Mince not the generall tongue, name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome: Raile thou in Fuluia's phrase, and taunt my faults With such full License, as both Truth and Malice Haue power to vtter. Oh then we bring forth weeds, When our quicke windes lye still, and our illes told vs Is as our earing: fare thee well awhile

Mes. At your Noble pleasure.

Exit Messenger

Enter another Messenger.

Ant. From Scicion how the newes? Speake there

1.Mes. The man from Scicion, Is there such an one? 2.Mes. He stayes vpon your will

Ant. Let him appeare: These strong Egyptian Fetters I must breake, Or loose my selfe in dotage. Enter another Messenger with a Letter.

What are you? 3.Mes. Fuluia thy wife is dead

Ant. Where dyed she

Mes. In Scicion, her length of sicknesse, With what else more serious, Importeth thee to know, this beares

Antho. Forbeare me There's a great Spirit gone, thus did I desire it: What our contempts doth often hurle from vs, We wish it ours againe. The present pleasure, By reuolution lowring, does become The opposite of it selfe: she's good being gon, The hand could plucke her backe, that shou'd her on. I must from this enchanting Queene breake off, Ten thousand harmes, more then the illes I know My idlenesse doth hatch. Enter Enobarbus.

How now Enobarbus

Eno. What's your pleasure, Sir? Anth. I must with haste from hence

Eno. Why then we kill all our Women. We see how mortall an vnkindnesse is to them, if they suffer our departure death's the word

Ant. I must be gone

Eno. Vnder a compelling an occasion, let women die. It were pitty to cast them away for nothing, though betweene them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra catching but the least noyse of this, dies instantly: I haue seene her dye twenty times vppon farre poorer moment: I do think there is mettle in death, which commits some louing acte vpon her, she hath such a celerity in dying

Ant. She is cunning past mans thought

Eno. Alacke Sir no, her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure Loue. We cannot cal her winds and waters, sighes and teares: They are greater stormes and Tempests then Almanackes can report. This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a showre of Raine as well as Ioue

Ant. Would I had neuer seene her

Eno. Oh sir, you had then left vnseene a wonderfull peece of worke, which not to haue beene blest withall, would haue discredited your Trauaile

Ant. Fuluia is dead

Eno. Sir

Ant. Fuluia is dead

Eno. Fuluia? Ant. Dead

Eno. Why sir, giue the Gods a thankefull Sacrifice: when it pleaseth their Deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shewes to man the Tailors of the earth: comforting therein, that when olde Robes are worne out, there are members to make new. If there were no more Women but Fuluia, then had you indeede a cut, and the case to be lamented: This greefe is crown'd with Consolation, your old Smocke brings foorth a new Petticoate, and indeed the teares liue in an Onion, that should water this sorrow

Ant. The businesse she hath broached in the State, Cannot endure my absence

Eno. And the businesse you haue broach'd heere cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode

Ant. No more light Answeres: Let our Officers Haue notice what we purpose. I shall breake The cause of our Expedience to the Queene, And get her loue to part. For not alone The death of Fuluia, with more vrgent touches Do strongly speake to vs: but the Letters too Of many our contriuing Friends in Rome, Petition vs at home. Sextus Pompeius Haue giuen the dare to Caesar, and commands The Empire of the Sea. Our slippery people, Whose Loue is neuer link'd to the deseruer, Till his deserts are past, begin to throw Pompey the great, and all his Dignities Vpon his Sonne, who high in Name and Power, Higher then both in Blood and Life, stands vp For the maine Souldier. Whose quality going on, The sides o'th' world may danger. Much is breeding, Which like the Coursers heire, hath yet but life, And not a Serpents poyson. Say our pleasure, To such whose places vnder vs, require Our quicke remoue from hence

Enob. I shall doo't. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Iras.

Cleo. Where is he? Char. I did not see him since

Cleo. See where he is, Whose with him, what he does: I did not send you. If you finde him sad, Say I am dauncing: if in Myrth, report That I am sodaine sicke. Quicke, and returne

Char. Madam, me thinkes if you did loue him deerly, You do not hold the method, to enforce The like from him

Cleo. What should I do, I do not? Ch. In each thing giue him way, crosse him in nothing

Cleo. Thou teachest like a foole: the way to lose him

Char. Tempt him not so too farre. I wish forbeare, In time we hate that which we often feare. Enter Anthony.

But heere comes Anthony

Cleo. I am sicke, and sullen

An. I am sorry to giue breathing to my purpose

Cleo. Helpe me away deere Charmian, I shall fall, It cannot be thus long, the sides of Nature Will not sustaine it

Ant. Now my deerest Queene

Cleo. Pray you stand farther from mee

Ant. What's the matter? Cleo. I know by that same eye ther's some good news. What sayes the married woman you may goe? Would she had neuer giuen you leaue to come. Let her not say 'tis I that keepe you heere, I haue no power vpon you: Hers you are

Ant. The Gods best know

Cleo. Oh neuer was there Queene So mightily betrayed: yet at the first I saw the Treasons planted

Ant. Cleopatra

Cleo. Why should I thinke you can be mine, & true, (Though you in swearing shake the Throaned Gods) Who haue beene false to Fuluia? Riotous madnesse, To be entangled with those mouth-made vowes, Which breake themselues in swearing

Ant. Most sweet Queene

Cleo. Nay pray you seeke no colour for your going, But bid farewell, and goe: When you sued staying, Then was the time for words: No going then, Eternity was in our Lippes, and Eyes, Blisse in our browes bent: none our parts so poore, But was a race of Heauen. They are so still, Or thou the greatest Souldier of the world, Art turn'd the greatest Lyar

Ant. How now Lady? Cleo. I would I had thy inches, thou should'st know There were a heart in Egypt

Ant. Heare me Queene: The strong necessity of Time, commands Our Seruices a-while: but my full heart Remaines in vse with you. Our Italy, Shines o're with ciuill Swords; Sextus Pompeius Makes his approaches to the Port of Rome, Equality of two Domesticke powers, Breed scrupulous faction: The hated growne to strength Are newly growne to Loue: The condemn'd Pompey, Rich in his Fathers Honor, creepes apace Into the hearts of such, as haue not thriued Vpon the present state, whose Numbers threaten, And quietnesse growne sicke of rest, would purge By any desperate change: My more particular, And that which most with you should safe my going, Is Fuluias death

Cleo. Though age from folly could not giue me freedom It does from childishnesse. Can Fuluia dye? Ant. She's dead my Queene. Looke heere, and at thy Soueraigne leysure read The Garboyles she awak'd: at the last, best, See when, and where shee died

Cleo. O most false Loue! Where be the Sacred Violles thou should'st fill With sorrowfull water? Now I see, I see, In Fuluias death, how mine receiu'd shall be

Ant. Quarrell no more, but bee prepar'd to know The purposes I beare: which are, or cease, As you shall giue th' aduice. By the fire That quickens Nylus slime, I go from hence Thy Souldier, Seruant, making Peace or Warre, As thou affects

Cleo. Cut my Lace, Charmian come, But let it be, I am quickly ill, and well, So Anthony loues

Ant. My precious Queene forbeare, And giue true euidence to his Loue, which stands An honourable Triall

Cleo. So Fuluia told me. I prythee turne aside, and weepe for her, Then bid adiew to me, and say the teares Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one Scene Of excellent dissembling, and let it looke Like perfect Honor

Ant. You'l heat my blood no more? Cleo. You can do better yet: but this is meetly

Ant. Now by Sword

Cleo. And Target. Still he mends. But this is not the best. Looke prythee Charmian, How this Herculean Roman do's become The carriage of his chafe

Ant. Ile leaue you Lady

Cleo. Courteous Lord, one word: Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it: Sir, you and I haue lou'd, but there's not it: That you know well, something it is I would: Oh, my Obliuion is a very Anthony, And I am all forgotten

Ant. But that your Royalty Holds Idlenesse your subiect, I should take you For Idlenesse it selfe

Cleo. 'Tis sweating Labour, To beare such Idlenesse so neere the heart As Cleopatra this. But Sir, forgiue me, Since my becommings kill me, when they do not Eye well to you. Your Honor calles you hence, Therefore be deafe to my vnpittied Folly, And all the Gods go with you. Vpon your Sword Sit Lawrell victory, and smooth successe Be strew'd before your feete

Ant. Let vs go. Come: Our separation so abides and flies, That thou reciding heere, goes yet with mee; And I hence fleeting, heere remaine with thee. Away.

Exeunt.

Enter Octauius reading a Letter, Lepidus, and their Traine.

Caes You may see Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Caesars Naturall vice, to hate One great Competitor. From Alexandria This is the newes: He fishes, drinkes, and wastes The Lampes of night in reuell: Is not more manlike Then Cleopatra: nor the Queene of Ptolomy More Womanly then he. Hardly gaue audience Or vouchsafe to thinke he had Partners. You Shall finde there a man, who is th' abstracts of all faults, That all men follow

Lep. I must not thinke There are, euils enow to darken all his goodnesse: His faults in him, seeme as the Spots of Heauen, More fierie by nights Blacknesse; Hereditarie, Rather then purchaste: what he cannot change, Then what he chooses

Caes You are too indulgent. Let's graunt it is not Amisse to tumble on the bed of Ptolomy, To giue a Kingdome for a Mirth, to sit And keepe the turne of Tipling with a Slaue, To reele the streets at noone, and stand the Buffet With knaues that smels of sweate: Say this becoms him (As his composure must be rare indeed, Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Anthony No way excuse his foyles, when we do beare So great waight in his lightnesse. If he fill'd His vacancie with his Voluptuousnesse, Full surfets, and the drinesse of his bones, Call on him for't. But to confound such time, That drummes him from his sport, and speakes as lowd As his owne State, and ours, 'tis to be chid: As we rate Boyes, who being mature in knowledge, Pawne their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebell to iudgement. Enter a Messenger.

Lep. Heere's more newes

Mes. Thy biddings haue beene done, & euerie houre Most Noble Caesar, shalt thou haue report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at Sea, And it appeares, he is belou'd of those That only haue feard Caesar: to the Ports The discontents repaire, and mens reports Giue him much wrong'd

Caes I should haue knowne no lesse, It hath bin taught vs from the primall state That he which is was wisht, vntill he were: And the ebb'd man, Ne're lou'd, till ne're worth loue, Comes fear'd, by being lack'd. This common bodie, Like to a Vagabond Flagge vpon the Streame, Goes too, and backe, lacking the varrying tyde To rot it selfe with motion

Mes. Caesar I bring thee word, Menacrates and Menas famous Pyrates Makes the Sea serue them, which they eare and wound With keeles of euery kinde. Many hot inrodes They make in Italy, the Borders Maritime Lacke blood to thinke on't, and flush youth reuolt, No Vessell can peepe forth: but 'tis as soone Taken as seene: for Pompeyes name strikes more Then could his Warre resisted Caesar. Anthony, Leaue thy lasciuious Vassailes. When thou once Was beaten from Medena, where thou slew'st Hirsius, and Pansa Consuls, at thy heele Did Famine follow, whom thou fought'st against, (Though daintily brought vp) with patience more Then Sauages could suffer. Thou did'st drinke The stale of Horses, and the gilded Puddle Which Beasts would cough at. Thy pallat the[n] did daine The roughest Berry, on the rudest Hedge. Yea, like the Stagge, when Snow the Pasture sheets, The barkes of Trees thou brows'd. On the Alpes, It is reported thou did'st eate strange flesh, Which some did dye to looke on: And all this (It wounds thine Honor that I speake it now) Was borne so like a Soldiour, that thy cheeke So much as lank'd not