« PreviousContinue »
(which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and
Rod. I will hear further reason for this.
Another Room in the Castle.
Enter OTHELLO, Lodovico, DesDEMONA, EMILIA,
and Attendants. Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no
further. Oth. O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk. Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your
ladyship. Des. Your honour is most welcome. Oth.
Will you walk, sir?-0,-Desdemona, Des.
My lord? Oth. Get you to bed on the instant; I will be return'd forthwith: dismiss your attendant there; look, it be done. Des. I will, my lord.
[Ereunt Othello, Lodovico, and Attendants,
Emil. How goes it now? he looks gentler than he
did. 'Des. He says, he will return incontinent: He hath cominanded me to go to bed, And bade me to dismiss you. Emil.
Dismiss me! Des. It was bis bidding; therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu: We must not now displease him.
Emil. I would, you bad 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
Come, come, you talk.
Emil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown?
No, uppin me here. This Lodovico is a proper man.
Emil. A very handsome man.
And he speaks well. Emil. I know a lady in Venice, who would have walk'd barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his nether lip. Des. The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow; [Singing. Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Sing willow, &c. Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones ; Lay by these:
Sing willow, willow, willow; Prythee, 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
Sing willow, 8c.
So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch;
'Tis neither here nor there. Des. have heard it said so.-0, these men, these
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 beavenly light; I might do't as well i'the 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. Good troth, I think thou would'st not.
Emil. By my troth, I think I should; and undo't, when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring; nor for measures of lawn; nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition: but, for the whole world,— Why, who would not make her husband a cuckold, to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for't.
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 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 the 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 to. Des. Good night, good night: Heaven me such
usage send, Not to pick bad from bad; but, by bad, mend!