us.

Come, stand not amaz'd at it, but go along with me; I will shew you such a necessity in his death, that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high supper-time, and the night grows to waste about it.

Rod. I will hear farther reason for this.
Iago. And you shall be satisfi’d.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Another Room in the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and

Attendants.

Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no

farther.

Oth. O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk. Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your

Oth. Get you to bed on th' instant; I will be return'd forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there: look 't be done.

Des. I will, my lord.

[Exeunt OTHELLO, LODOVICO, and Attendants. Emil. How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.

Des. He says, he will return incontinent;

He hath commanded me to go to bed,

And bade me to dismiss you.

Emil.

Dismiss me!

Des. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu:

We must not now displease him.

Emil. I would you had never seen him.

Des. So would not I: my love doth so approve

him,

That even his stubbornness, his checks, and frowns, Pr'ythee, unpin me, have grace and favour in

them.

Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on

the bed.

Des. All's one. Good father! how foolish are our

minds !

If I do die before thee, pr'ythee, shroud me
In one of those same sheets.

Emil.

Come, come, you talk.

Des. My mother had a maid call'd Barbara : She was in love; and he she lov'd prov'd mad, And did forsake her: she had a song of "willow," An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, And she di'd singing it: that song, to-night, Will not go from my mind; I have much to do, But to go hang my head all at one side, And sing it like poor Barbara. Pr'ythee, dispatch. Emil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown?

Des.

This Lodovico is a proper man.

No, unpin me here.

Emil. A very handsome man.

Des. He speaks well.

Emil. I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.

Des.

[Singing.

"The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,

Sing all a green willow ;

Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,

Sing willow, willow, willow:

The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her

moans;

Sing willow, willow, willow:

Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;

Lay by these.

"Sing willow, willow, willow."

Pr'ythee, hie thee; he'll come anon.

·Sing all a green willow must be my garland.”

“Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve,

Nay, that's not next. Hark! who is it that knocks? Emil. It is the wind.

Des. “I call'd my love, false love; but what said he then?

Sing willow, willow, willow:

If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo men.”

So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch; Doth that bode weeping?

Emil.

"Tis neither here nor there.

Des. I have heard it said so. —O, these men,

these men !

Do'st thou in conscience think, - tell me, Emilia,

That there be women do abuse their husbands

In such gross kind?

Emil.

There be some such, no question.

Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the

world?

Emil. Why, would not you?

Des.

No, by this heavenly light.

Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light:

I might do 't as well i' th' dark.

Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the

world?

Emil. The world is a huge thing: 'tis a great

price

For a small vice.

Des.

In Emil. In troth, when I had done.

troth, I think thou would'st not. I think I should, and undo 't, Marry, I would not do such a thing for a join'd-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but, for the whole world, why, who would not make her husband a cuckold, to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for 't.

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

Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' th' world; and, having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right.

Des. I do not think there is any such woman. Emil. Yes, a dozen; and as many to th' vantage, as would store the world they play'd for.

But, I do think, it is their husbands' faults,

If wives do fall. Say, that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps;
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,

Throwing restraint upon us; or, say, they strike us,
Or scant our former having in despite,

Why, we have galls; and, though we have some

grace,

Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know, Their wives have sense like them: they see, and

smell,

And have their palates, both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. What is it that they do,

When they change us for others? Is it sport?
I think it is; and doth affection breed it?
I think it doth. Is 't frailty, that thus errs ?
It is so too and have not we affections,
Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?
Then let them use us well; else, let them know,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

Des. Good night, good night: Heaven me such

usage send,

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

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. — A Street.

Enter IAGO and RODERIGO.

IAGO.

ERE, stand behind this balk; straight will he

HE

come :

Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home.

Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow.
It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,

And fix most firm thy resolution.

Rod.

Be near at hand; I may miscarry in 't. Iago. Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy [Retires to a little distance.

stand.

Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed; And yet he has given me satisfying reasons.

"Tis but a man gone: forth, my sword; he dies.

[Goes to his stand.