Des. [Singing] I call'd my love false love; but what said he then?

Sing willow, willow, willow:

If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men!

60

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!

Dost thou in conscience think,-tell me, Em-
ilia,-

That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind?

Emil.

There be some such, no question. Des. Wouldst 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' the dark.

Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

Emil. The world's a huge thing: it is a great

price

For a small vice.

Des. In troth, I think thou wouldst not. Emil. In troth, I think I should; and undo 't 71 when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn. nor for gowns, petticoats, nor

caps, nor any petty exhibition; but, for the
whole world,-why, who would not make her
husband a cuckold to make him a monarch?
I should venture purgatory for 't.
Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
for the whole world.
Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' the
world; and having the world for your la-

bor, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you
might quickly make it right.

80

Des. I do not think there is any such woman.
Emil. Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage
as would store the world they played for..
But I do think it is their husband's 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,

90

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,

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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 uses send,

Not to pick bad from bad but by bad mend!

[Exeunt.

ACT FIFTH

SCENE I

Cyprus. A street.

Enter Iago and Roderigo.

Iago. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will

he come:

Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home:
Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy el-
bow:

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

stand.

Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed;

[Retires.

And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons: 'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies. Iago. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the

sense,

11

And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill
Cassio,

Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large

Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him,

As gifts to Desdemona:

It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life

That makes me ugly; and besides, the Moor 20 May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril:

No, he must die. Be't so. I hear him coming.

Enter Cassio.

Rod. I know his gait; 'tis he. Villain, thou diest! [Makes a pass at Cassio.

Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou know'st:
I will make proof of thine.

Rod.

[Draws and wounds Roderigo. O, I am slain!

[Lago from behind wounds Cassio in the leg, and

exit.

Cas. I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! murder!

murder!

Enter Othello.

[Falls.

Oth. The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word.
Rod. O, villain that I am!

Oth.

It is even so.

30

Cas. O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!
Oth. 'Tis he. O brave Iago, honest and just,
That hast such noble sense of thy friend's
wrong!

Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,
And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come!