And therefore certainly it were not good


She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.


Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,


How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured,


But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced,


She would swear the gentleman should be her sister;


If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique,


Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;


If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;


If silent, why, a block moved with none.


So turns she every man the wrong side out


And never gives to truth and virtue that


Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.


No, not to be so odd and from all fashions


But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,


She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me


Out of myself, press me to death with wit.


Therefore let Benedick, like coverd fire,


It were a better death than die with mocks,


Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.


And counsel him to fight against his passion.


And, truly, Ill devise some honest slanders


To stain my cousin with: one doth not know


How much an ill word may empoison liking.


She cannot be so much without true judgment--


So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.


I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,


For shape, for bearing, argument and valour,


His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.


Ill show thee some attires, and have thy counsel


Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.


Shes limed, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam.


If it proves so, then loving goes by haps:


Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.


What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?


Stand I condemnd for pride and scorn so much?


Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!


And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,


Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand:


If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee


Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and LEONATO


I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and


Ill bring you thither, my lord, if youll


Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss


of your marriage as to show a child his new coat


and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold


with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown


of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all


mirth: he hath twice or thrice cut Cupids


bow-string and the little hangman dare not shoot at


him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell and his


tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks his


Hang him, truant! theres no true drop of blood in


him, to be truly touched with love: if he be sad,


You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.


Well, every one can master a grief but he that has


There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be


a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be


a Dutchman today, a Frenchman to-morrow, or in the


shape of two countries at once, as, a German from


the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from


the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy


to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no


fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is.


If he be not in love with some woman, there is no


believing old signs: a brushes his hat o


No, but the barbers man hath been seen with him,


and the old ornament of his cheek hath already


Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.


Nay, a rubs himself with civet: can you smell him


Thats as much as to say, the sweet youths in love.


The greatest note of it is his melancholy.


Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear


Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into


a lute-string and now governed by stops.


Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude,


That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not.


Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of


She shall be buried with her face upwards.


Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old


signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight


or nine wise words to speak to you, which these


For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.


Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this


played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two


bears will not bite one another when they meet.


If your leisure served, I would speak with you.


If it please you: yet Count Claudio may hear; for


[To CLAUDIO]  Means your lordship to be married


I know not that, when he knows what I know.


If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.


You may think I love you not: let that appear


hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will


manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you


well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect


your ensuing marriage;--surely suit ill spent and


I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances


shortened, for she has been too long a talking of,


Even she; Leonatos Hero, your Hero, every mans Hero:


The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I


could say she were worse: think you of a worse


title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till


further warrant: go but with me to-night, you shall


see her chamber-window entered, even the night


before her wedding-day: if you love her then,


to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour


If you dare not trust that you see, confess not


that you know: if you will follow me, I will show


you enough; and when you have seen more and heard


If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry


her to-morrow in the congregation, where I should


And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join


I will disparage her no farther till you are my


witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and


O plague right well prevented! so will you say when


Enter DOGBERRY and VERGES with the Watch


Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer


Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if


they should have any allegiance in them, being


Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.


First, who think you the most desertless man to be


Hugh Otecake, sir, or George Seacole; for they can


Come hither, neighbour Seacole. God hath blessed


you with a good name: to be a well-favoured man is


the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.


You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well,


for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make


no boast of it; and for your writing and reading,


let that appear when there is no need of such


vanity. You are thought here to be the most


senseless and fit man for the constable of the


watch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your


charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are


to bid any man stand, in the princes name.


Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; and


presently call the rest of the watch together and


If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none


True, and they are to meddle with none but the


princes subjects. You shall also make no noise in


the streets; for, for the watch to babble and to


talk is most tolerable and not to be endured.


We will rather sleep than talk: we know what


Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet


watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should


offend: only, have a care that your bills be not


stolen. Well, you are to call at all the


ale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed.


Why, then, let them alone till they are sober: if


they make you not then the better answer, you may


say they are not the men you took them for.


If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue


of your office, to be no true man; and, for such


kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them,


If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay


Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they


that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable


way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him


show himself what he is and steal out of your company.


You have been always called a merciful man, partner.


Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more


If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call


How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?


Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake


her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her


lamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats.


This is the end of the charge:--you, constable, are


to present the princes own person: if you meet the


Nay, byr our lady, that I think a cannot.


Five shillings to one ont, with any man that knows


the statutes, he may stay him: marry, not without


the prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought


to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a


Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be


any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your


fellows counsels and your own; and good night.


Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here


upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed.


One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch


about Signior Leonatos door; for the wedding being


there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night.


Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a


I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward


Stand thee close, then, under this pent-house, for


it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard,


[Aside]  Some treason, masters: yet stand close.


Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats.


Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?


Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any


villany should be so rich; for when rich villains


have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what


That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that


the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is


Tush! I may as well say the fools the fool. But


seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion


[Aside]  I know that Deformed; a has been a vile


thief this seven year; a goes up and down like a


Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this


fashion is? how giddily a turns about all the hot


bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty?


sometimes fashioning them like Pharaohs soldiers


in the reeky painting, sometime like god Bels


priests in the old church-window, sometime like the


shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry,


where his codpiece seems as massy as his club?


All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears


out more apparel than the man. But art not thou


thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast


shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?


Not so, neither: but know that I have to-night


wooed Margaret, the Lady Heros gentlewoman, by the


name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress


chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good


night,--I tell this tale vilely:--I should first


tell thee how the prince, Claudio and my master,


planted and placed and possessed by my master Don


John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter.


Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; but the


devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly


by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by


the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly


by my villany, which did confirm any slander that


Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore


he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning


at the temple, and there, before the whole


congregation, shame her with what he saw oer night


and send her home again without a husband.


We charge you, in the princes name, stand!


Call up the right master constable. We have here


recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that


And one Deformed is one of them: I know him; a


Youll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.


Never speak: we charge you let us obey you to go with us.


We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken


A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, well obey you.


Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire


Troth, I think your other rabato were better.


By my troth, s not so good; and I warrant your


My cousins a fool, and thou art another: Ill wear


I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair


were a thought browner; and your gowns a most rare


fashion, i faith. I saw the Duchess of Milans


By my troth, s but a night-gown in respect of


yours: cloth o gold, and cuts, and laced with


silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves,


and skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel:


but for a fine, quaint, graceful and excellent


God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is


Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.


Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not


marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord


honourable without marriage? I think you would have


me say, saving your reverence, a husband: and bad


thinking do not wrest true speaking, Ill offend


nobody: is there any harm in the heavier for a


husband? None, I think, and it be the right husband


and the right wife; otherwise tis light, and not


heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes.


Why how now? do you speak in the sick tune?


Claps into Light o love; that goes without a


burden: do you sing it, and Ill dance it.


Ye light o love, with your heels! then, if your


husband have stables enough, youll see he shall


O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.


Tis almost five oclock, cousin; tis time you were


ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: heigh-ho!


Well, and you be not turned Turk, theres no more


Nothing I; but God send every one their hearts desire!


These gloves the count sent me; they are an


A maid, and stuffed! theres goodly catching of cold.


O, God help me! God help me! how long have you


Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?


It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your


Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus,


and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm.


Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in


Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I


meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance


that I think you are in love: nay, byr lady, I am


not such a fool to think what I list, nor I list


not to think what I can, nor indeed I cannot think,


if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you


are in love or that you will be in love or that you


can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and


now is he become a man: he swore he would never


marry, and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats


his meat without grudging: and how you may be


converted I know not, but methinks you look with


What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?


Madam, withdraw: the prince, the count, Signior


Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the


Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula.


SCENE V. Another room in LEONATOS house.


What would you with me, honest neighbour?


Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you


Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me.


Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the


matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so


blunt as, God help, I would desire they were; but,


in faith, honest as the skin between his brows.


Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living


that is an old man and no honester than I.


Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges.


It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the


poor dukes officers; but truly, for mine own part,


if I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in


my heart to bestow it all of your worship.


Yea, an twere a thousand pound more than tis; for


I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any


man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I


Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your


worships presence, ha taen a couple of as arrant


A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they


say, when the age is in, the wit is out: God help


us! it is a world to see. Well said, i faith,


neighbour Verges: well, Gods a good man; an two men


ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest


soul, i faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever


broke bread; but God is to be worshipped; all men


Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.


One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed


comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would


have them this morning examined before your worship.


Take their examination yourself and bring it me: I


am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.


Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well.


My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to


Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacole;


bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we


We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; heres


that shall drive some of them to a non-come: only


excommunication and meet me at the gaol.


Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, LEONATO, FRIAR FRANCIS, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, and Attendants


Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain


form of marriage, and you shall recount their


You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady.


To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her.


Lady, you come hither to be married to this count.


If either of you know any inward impediment why you


should not be conjoined, charge you, on your souls,


O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily


How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of


Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave:


Will you with free and unconstrained soul


And what have I to give you back, whose worth


May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?


Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.


Give not this rotten orange to your friend;


Shes but the sign and semblance of her honour.


Behold how like a maid she blushes here!


To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear,


All you that see her, that she were a maid,


By these exterior shows? But she is none:


Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.


Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,


Have vanquishd the resistance of her youth,


I know what you would say: if I have known her,


You will say she did embrace me as a husband,


I never tempted her with word too large;


Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it:


As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown;


But you are more intemperate in your blood


Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide?


I stand dishonourd, that have gone about


To link my dear friend to a common stale.


Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?


Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.


Is this the prince? is this the princes brother?


Is this face Heros? are our eyes our own?


All this is so: but what of this, my lord?


Let me but move one question to your daughter;


That you have in her, bid her answer truly.


I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.


What man was he talkd with you yesternight


Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?


I talkd with no man at that hour, my lord.


I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour,


Myself, my brother and this grieved count


Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night


Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window


Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,


Confessd the vile encounters they have had


Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord,


There is not chastity enough in language


Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,


If half thy outward graces had been placed


About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!


But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell,


For thee Ill lock up all the gates of love,


And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang,


To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,


Hath no mans dagger here a point for me?


Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down?


Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light,


Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!


Death is the fairest cover for her shame


Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly thing


Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:


For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,


Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,


Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,


Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one?


Chid I for that at frugal natures frame?


I might have said No part of it is mine;


This shame derives itself from unknown loins?


But mine and mine I loved and mine I praised


And mine that I was proud on, mine so much


Valuing of her,--why, she, O, she is fallen


Hath drops too few to wash her clean again


And salt too little which may season give


Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?


No, truly not; although, until last night,


I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.


Confirmd, confirmd! O, that is stronger made


Which was before barrd up with ribs of iron!


Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie,


Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness,


Washd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die.


And given way unto this course of fortune.


To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames


In angel whiteness beat away those blushes;


And in her eye there hath appeard a fire,


To burn the errors that these princes hold


Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool;


Trust not my reading nor my observations,


Which with experimental seal doth warrant


If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here


Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left


Is that she will not add to her damnation


Why seekst thou then to cover with excuse


Lady, what man is he you are accused of?


They know that do accuse me; I know none:


Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,


Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father,


Prove you that any man with me conversed


Maintaind the change of words with any creature,


Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!


There is some strange misprision in the princes.


Two of them have the very bent of honour;


The practise of it lives in John the bastard,


Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.


I know not. If they speak but truth of her,


These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour,


The proudest of them shall well hear of it.


Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,


Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,


Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,


But they shall find, awaked in such a kind,


Both strength of limb and policy of mind,


And let my counsel sway you in this case.


Your daughter here the princes left for dead:


What shall become of this? what will this do?


Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf


Change slander to remorse; that is some good:


But not for that dream I on this strange course,


But on this travail look for greater birth.


That what we have we prize not to the worth


Whiles we enjoy it, but being lackd and lost,


Why, then we rack the value, then we find


The virtue that possession would not show us


Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio:


When he shall hear she died upon his words,


The idea of her life shall sweetly creep


Shall come apparelld in more precious habit,


Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn,


No, though he thought his accusation true.


Let this be so, and doubt not but success


But if all aim but this be levelld false,


And if it sort not well, you may conceal her,


Out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries.


Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you:


And though you know my inwardness and love


Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,


Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this


For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.


Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day


Perhaps is but prolongd: have patience and endure.


Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?


Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.


Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!


Is there any way to show such friendship?


I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is


As strange as the thing I know not. It were as


possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as


you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I


confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.


I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make


With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest


You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to


I love you with so much of my heart that none is


I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in


You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.


Is he not approved in the height a villain, that


hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O


that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they


come to take hands; and then, with public


accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,


--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart


Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!


Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone.


Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony,


a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant,


surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I


had any friend would be a man for my sake! But


manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into


compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and


trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules


that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a


man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.


Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.


Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.


Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?


Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.


Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will


kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand,


Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you


hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your


cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell.


Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Sexton, in gowns; and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO


O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.


Nay, thats certain; we have the exhibition to examine.


But which are the offenders that are to be


examined? let them come before master constable.


Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your


Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?


I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.


Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do


Write down, that they hope they serve God: and


write God first; for God defend but God should go


before such villains! Masters, it is proved already


that you are little better than false knaves; and it


will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer


A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you: but I


will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah; a


word in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought


Well, stand aside. Fore God, they are both in a


tale. Have you writ down, that they are none?


Master constable, you go not the way to examine:


you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.


Yea, marry, thats the eftest way. Let the watch


come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the princes


This man said, sir, that Don John, the princes


Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat


perjury, to call a princes brother villain.


Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look,


Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of


Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.


And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to


disgrace Hero before the whole assembly. and not marry her.


O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting


And this is more, masters, than you can deny.


Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away;


Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner


refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died.


Master constable, let these men be bound, and


brought to Leonatos: I will go before and show


Gods my life, wheres the sexton? let him write


down the princes officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.


Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not


suspect my years? O that he were here to write me


down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an


ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not


that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of


piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness.


I am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer,


and, which is more, a householder, and, which is


more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in


Messina, and one that knows the law, go to; and a


rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath


had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every


thing handsome about him. Bring him away. O that


If you go on thus, you will kill yourself:


Which falls into mine ears as profitless


As water in a sieve: give not me counsel;


But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.


Bring me a father that so loved his child,


Whose joy of her is overwhelmd like mine,


Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine


And let it answer every strain for strain,


As thus for thus and such a grief for such,


In every lineament, branch, shape, and form:


If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,


Bid sorrow wag, cry hem! when he should groan,


Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk


With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,


But there is no such man: for, brother, men


Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief


Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,


Their counsel turns to passion, which before


Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,


Charm ache with air and agony with words:


No, no; tis all mens office to speak patience


To those that wring under the load of sorrow,


The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel:


My griefs cry louder than advertisement.


Therein do men from children nothing differ.


I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood;


That could endure the toothache patiently,


However they have writ the style of gods


And made a push at chance and sufferance.


Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself;


Make those that do offend you suffer too.


There thou speakst reason: nay, I will do so.


And that shall Claudio know; so shall the prince


And all of them that thus dishonour her.


Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily.


Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord:


Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.


If he could right himself with quarreling,


Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou:--


If it should give your age such cause of fear:


In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.


Tush, tush, man; never fleer and jest at me:


What I have done being young, or what would do


Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head,


Thou hast so wrongd mine innocent child and me


And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days,


I say thou hast belied mine innocent child;


Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,


Save this of hers, framed by thy villany!


Despite his nice fence and his active practise,


His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.


Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast killd my child:


If thou killst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.


He shall kill two of us, and men indeed:


But thats no matter; let him kill one first;


Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me:


Sir boy, Ill whip you from your foining fence;


Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece;


And she is dead, slanderd to death by villains,


Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea,


And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,--


Scrambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys,


That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander,


And speak off half a dozen dangerous words,


How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;


Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience.


My heart is sorry for your daughters death:


But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing


But what was true and very full of proof.


No? Come, brother; away! I will be heard.


And shall, or some of us will smart for it.


See, see; here comes the man we went to seek.


Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part


We had like to have had our two noses snapped off


Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had


we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.


In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came


We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are


high-proof melancholy and would fain have it beaten


Never any did so, though very many have been beside


their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the


As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou


What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat,


thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.


Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you


charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject.


Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was


By this light, he changes more and more: I think


If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.


[Aside to CLAUDIO]  You are a villain; I jest not:


I will make it good how you dare, with what you


dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will


protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet


lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me


Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.


I faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calfs


head and a capon; the which if I do not carve most


curiously, say my knifes naught. Shall I not find


Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.


Ill tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the


other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: True,


said she, a fine little one. No, said I, a


great wit: Right, says she, a great gross one.


Nay, said I, a good wit: Just, said she, it


hurts nobody. Nay, said I, the gentleman


is wise: Certain, said she, a wise gentleman.


Nay, said I, he hath the tongues: That I


believe, said she, for he swore a thing to me on


Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning;


theres a double tongue; theres two tongues. Thus


did she, an hour together, transshape thy particular


virtues: yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou


For the which she wept heartily and said she cared


Yea, that she did: but yet, for all that, an if she


did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly:


All, all; and, moreover, God saw him when he was


But when shall we set the savage bulls horns on


Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Benedick the


Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave


you now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests


as braggarts do their blades, which God be thanked,


hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank


you: I must discontinue your company: your brother


the bastard is fled from Messina: you have among


you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord


Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet: and, till


In most profound earnest; and, Ill warrant you, for


What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his


doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!


He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a


But, soft you, let me be: pluck up, my heart, and


be sad. Did he not say, my brother was fled?


Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO


Come you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she


shall neer weigh more reasons in her balance: nay,


an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.


How now? two of my brothers men bound! Borachio


Officers, what offence have these men done?


Marry, sir, they have committed false report;


moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily,


they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have


belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust


things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.


First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I


ask thee whats their offence; sixth and lastly, why


they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay


Rightly reasoned, and in his own division: and, by


my troth, theres one meaning well suited.


Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus


bound to your answer? this learned constable is


too cunning to be understood: whats your offence?


Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer:


do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have


deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms


could not discover, these shallow fools have brought


to light: who in the night overheard me confessing


to this man how Don John your brother incensed me


to slander the Lady Hero, how you were brought into


the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Heros


garments, how you disgraced her, when you should


marry her: my villany they have upon record; which


I had rather seal with my death than repeat over


to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my


masters false accusation; and, briefly, I desire


Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?


I have drunk poison whiles he utterd it.


Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it.


In the rare semblance that I loved it first.


Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our


sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter:


and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time


and place shall serve, that I am an ass.


Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the


Re-enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, with the Sexton


Which is the villain? let me see his eyes,


If you would know your wronger, look on me.


Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast killd


No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself:


I thank you, princes, for my daughters death:


Record it with your high and worthy deeds:


Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.


Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself;


Impose me to what penance your invention


That were impossible: but, I pray you both,


And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night:


And since you could not be my son-in-law,


Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter,


Give her the right you should have given her cousin,


Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me!


To-morrow then I will expect your coming;


To-night I take my leave. This naughty man


Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,


Who I believe was packd in all this wrong,


Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me,


Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and


black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call


me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his


punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of


one Deformed: they say be wears a key in his ear and


a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in Gods


name, the which he hath used so long and never paid


that now men grow hard-hearted and will lend nothing


for Gods sake: pray you, examine him upon that point.


I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.


Your worship speaks like a most thankful and


reverend youth; and I praise God for you.


Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.


I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I


beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the


example of others. God keep your worship! I wish


your worship well; God restore you to health! I


humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry


meeting may be wished, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour.


Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.


Farewell, my lords: we look for you to-morrow.


[To the Watch]  Bring you these fellows on. Well


How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.


Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at


my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.


Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?


In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living


shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou


To have no man come over me! why, shall I always


Thy wit is as quick as the greyhounds mouth; it catches.


And yours as blunt as the fencers foils, which hit,


A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a


woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give


Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own.


If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the


pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids.


Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs.


I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good


swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and


a whole bookful of these quondam carpet-mangers,


whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a


blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned


over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I


cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried: I can find


out no rhyme to lady but baby, an innocent


rhyme; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme; for,


school, fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous


endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet,


Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?


Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.


Then is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, ere


I go, let me go with that I came; which is, with


knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.


Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.


Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but


foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I


Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense,


so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee


plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either


I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe


him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for


which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?


For them all together; which maintained so politic


a state of evil that they will not admit any good


part to intermingle with them. But for which of my


good parts did you first suffer love for me?


Suffer love! a good epithet! I do suffer love


indeed, for I love thee against my will.


In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart!


If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for


yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates.


Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.


It appears not in this confession: theres not one


wise man among twenty that will praise himself.


An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in


the lime of good neighbours. If a man do not erect


in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live


no longer in monument than the bell rings and the


Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in


rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the


wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no


impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his


own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for


praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is


praiseworthy: and now tell me, how doth your cousin?


Serve God, love me and mend. There will I leave


Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonders old


coil at home: it is proved my Lady Hero hath been


falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily


abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is


I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be


buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with


Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and three or four with tapers


Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.


Good morrow, masters; put your torches out:


The wolves have preyd; and look, the gentle day,


Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about


Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey.


Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well.


Good morrow, masters: each his several way.


Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds;


Than this for whom we renderd up this woe.


Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE, MARGARET, URSULA, FRIAR FRANCIS, and HERO


So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her


But Margaret was in some fault for this,


Although against her will, as it appears


Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.


And so am I, being else by faith enforced


To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.


Well, daughter, and you gentle-women all,


And when I send for you, come hither maskd.


The prince and Claudio promised by this hour


To visit me. You know your office, brother:


You must be father to your brothers daughter


Which I will do with confirmd countenance.


Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.


Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,


Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.


That eye my daughter lent her: tis most true.


And I do with an eye of love requite her.


The sight whereof I think you had from me,


From Claudio and the prince: but whats your will?


But, for my will, my will is your good will


May stand with ours, this day to be conjoind


In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.


Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO, and two or three others


Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio:


We here attend you. Are you yet determined


To-day to marry with my brothers daughter?


Call her forth, brother; heres the friar ready.


Good morrow, Benedick. Why, whats the matter,


So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?


Tush, fear not, man; well tip thy horns with gold


When he would play the noble beast in love.


And some such strange bull leapd your fathers cow,


Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.


For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings.


Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked


This same is she, and I do give you her.


Why, then shes mine. Sweet, let me see your face.


No, that you shall not, till you take her hand


Before this friar and swear to marry her.


Give me your hand: before this holy friar,


And when I lived, I was your other wife:


And when you loved, you were my other husband.


She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.


When after that the holy rites are ended,


Ill tell you largely of fair Heros death:


Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?


[Unmasking]  I answer to that name. What is your will?


Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio


Are much deceived; for they did swear you did.


They swore that you were almost sick for me.


They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.


Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?


Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.


And Ill be sworn upont that he loves her;


Writ in my cousins hand, stolen from her pocket,


A miracle! heres our own hands against our hearts.


Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take


I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield


upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life,


for I was told you were in a consumption.


How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?


Ill tell thee what, prince; a college of


wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost


thou think I  care for a satire or an epigram? No:


if a man will be beaten with brains, a shall wear


nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do


purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any


purpose that the world can say against it; and


therefore never flout at me for what I have said


against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my


conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to


have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my


kinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin.


I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice,


that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single


life, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of


question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look


Come, come, we are friends: lets have a dance ere


we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts


First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince,


thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife:


there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.


My lord, your brother John is taen in flight,


And brought with armed men back to Messina.


Ill devise thee brave punishments for him.


Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly


As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.


If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.


Thou toldst me thou didst hold him in thy hate.


Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,


In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,


Off-cappd to him: and, by the faith of man,


I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:


But he; as loving his own pride and purposes,


Evades them, with a bombast circumstance


Nonsuits my mediators; for, Certes, says he,


More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,


As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise,


Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:


And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof


At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds


Christian and heathen, must be be-leed and calmd


By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,


He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,


And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorships ancient.


By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.


Why, theres no remedy; tis the curse of service,


Preferment goes by letter and affection,


And not by old gradation, where each second


Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,


We cannot all be masters, nor all masters


That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,


Wears out his time, much like his masters ass,


For nought but provender, and when hes old, cashierd:


Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are


Who, trimmd in forms and visages of duty,


Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,


And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,


Do well thrive by them and when they have lined


Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;


And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,


Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,


For when my outward action doth demonstrate


In compliment extern, tis not long after


For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.


What a full fortune does the thicklips owe


Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,


Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,


And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,


Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,


Here is her fathers house; Ill call aloud.


Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell


As when, by night and negligence, the fire


What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!


Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves!


Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!


What is the reason of this terrible summons?


Zounds, sir, youre robbd; for shame, put on


Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;


Even now, now, very now, an old black ram


Is topping your white ewe. Arise, arise;


Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,


Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:


Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?


I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:


In honest plainness thou hast heard me say


My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,


Being full of supper and distempering draughts,


My spirit and my place have in them power


What tellst thou me of robbing? this is Venice;


Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not


serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to


do you service and you think we are ruffians, youll


have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;


youll have your nephews neigh to you; youll have


coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.


I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter


and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.


This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.


Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you,


Ift be your pleasure and most wise consent,


As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,


At this odd-even and dull watch o the night,


Transported, with no worse nor better guard


But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,


To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor--


If this be known to you and your allowance,


We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;


But if you know not this, my manners tell me


We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe


I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:


Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,


Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes


Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:


Let loose on me the justice of the state


It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,


To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall--


Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state,


However this may gall him with some cheque,


Cannot with safety cast him, for hes embarkd


With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,


Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls,


To lead their business: in which regard,


Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains.


I must show out a flag and sign of love,


Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him,


Lead to the Sagittary the raised search;


And there will I be with him. So, farewell.


Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches


Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo,


Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl!


With the Moor, sayst thou? Who would be a father!


How didst thou know twas she? O she deceives me


Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers:


Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you?


O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood!


Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters minds


By what you see them act. Is there not charms


By which the property of youth and maidhood


May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,


Call up my brother. O, would you had had her!


Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?


I think I can discover him, if you please,


Pray you, lead on. At every house Ill call;


And raise some special officers of night.


On, good Roderigo: Ill deserve your pains.


Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants with torches


Though in the trade of war I have slain men,


Yet do I hold it very stuff o the conscience


To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity


Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times


I had thought to have yerkd him here under the ribs.


And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms


I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir,


Are you fast married? Be assured of this,


And hath in his effect a voice potential


As double as the dukes: he will divorce you;


Or put upon you what restraint and grievance


The law, with all his might to enforce it on,


My services which I have done the signiory


Shall out-tongue his complaints. Tis yet to know,--


Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,


I shall promulgate--I fetch my life and being


From men of royal siege, and my demerits


May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune


As this that I have reachd: for know, Iago,


For the seas worth. But, look! what lights come yond?


Those are the raised father and his friends:


Enter CASSIO, and certain Officers with torches


The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant.


The goodness of the night upon you, friends!


And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,


It is a business of some heat: the galleys


And many of the consuls, raised and met,


When, being not at your lodging to be found,


The senate hath sent about three several guests


I will but spend a word here in the house,


Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack:


If it prove lawful prize, hes made for ever.


Here comes another troop to seek for you.


Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers with torches and weapons


Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.


Good signior, you shall more command with years


O thou foul thief, where hast thou stowd my daughter?


Damnd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her;


For Ill refer me to all things of sense,


If she in chains of magic were not bound,


Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy,


So opposite to marriage that she shunned


The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,


Would ever have, to incur a general mock,


Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom


Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight.


Judge me the world, if tis not gross in sense


That thou hast practised on her with foul charms,


Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals


That weaken motion: Ill havet disputed on;


I therefore apprehend and do attach thee


Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it


Without a prompter. Where will you that I go


How may the duke be therewith satisfied,


Whose messengers are here about my side,


The dukes in council and your noble self,


In this time of the night! Bring him away:


Mines not an idle cause: the duke himself,


Cannot but feel this wrong as twere their own;


For if such actions may have passage free,


Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.


The DUKE and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending


My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.


But though they jump not on a just account,--


As in these cases, where the aim reports,


Tis oft with difference--yet do they all confirm


A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.


The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;


To keep us in false gaze. When we consider


That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,


So may he with more facile question bear it,


For that it stands not in such warlike brace,


That Rhodes is dressd in: if we make thought of this,


We must not think the Turk is so unskilful


To leave that latest which concerns him first,


Nay, in all confidence, hes not for Rhodes.


Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes,


Have there injointed them with an after fleet.


Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?


Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance


Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,


Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch.


Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.


Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Officers


Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you


I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;


We lackd your counsel and your help tonight.


So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me;


Neither my place nor aught I heard of business


Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care


Take hold on me, for my particular grief


Is of so flood-gate and oerbearing nature


That it engluts and swallows other sorrows


She is abused, stoln from me, and corrupted


By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;


Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,


Whoeer he be that in this foul proceeding


Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself


You shall yourself read in the bitter letter


After your own sense, yea, though our proper son


Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,


Your special mandate for the state-affairs


[To OTHELLO]  What, in your own part, can you say to this?


Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,


My very noble and approved good masters,


That I have taen away this old mans daughter,


It is most true; true, I have married her:


Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,


And little blessd with the soft phrase of peace:


For since these arms of mine had seven years pith,


Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used


Their dearest action in the tented field,


And little of this great world can I speak,


More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,


And therefore little shall I grace my cause


In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,


Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,


For such proceeding I am charged withal,


Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion


Blushd at herself; and she, in spite of nature,


Of years, of country, credit, every thing,


To fall in love with what she feard to look on!


It is a judgment maimd and most imperfect


That will confess perfection so could err


Against all rules of nature, and must be driven


Why this should be. I therefore vouch again


That with some mixtures powerful oer the blood,


Or with some dram conjured to this effect,


Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods


Of modern seeming do prefer against him.


Subdue and poison this young maids affections?


Or came it by request and such fair question


And let her speak of me before her father:


Not only take away, but let your sentence


Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place.


And, till she come, as truly as to heaven


So justly to your grave ears Ill present


How I did thrive in this fair ladys love,


Still questiond me the story of my life,


From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,


I ran it through, even from my boyish days,


To the very moment that he bade me tell it;


Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,


Of hair-breadth scapes i the imminent deadly breach,


And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence


Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,


Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven


It was my hint to speak,--such was the process;


And of the Cannibals that each other eat,


Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear


But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:


Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,


Devour up my discourse: which I observing,


Took once a pliant hour, and found good means


To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart


Whereof by parcels she had something heard,


When I did speak of some distressful stroke


That my youth sufferd. My story being done,


She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:


She swore, in faith, twas strange, twas passing strange,


She wishd she had not heard it, yet she wishd


That heaven had made her such a man: she thankd me,


And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,


I should but teach him how to tell my story.


And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:


She loved me for the dangers I had passd,


This only is the witchcraft I have used:


Here comes the lady; let her witness it.


I think this tale would win my daughter too.


Take up this mangled matter at the best:


If she confess that she was half the wooer,


Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress:


Do you perceive in all this noble company


To you I am bound for life and education;


How to respect you; you are the lord of duty;


I am hitherto your daughter: but heres my husband,


To you, preferring you before her father,


Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs:


I had rather to adopt a child than get it.


I here do give thee that with all my heart


Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart


I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,


I am glad at soul I have no other child:


To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.


Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence,


Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers


When remedies are past, the griefs are ended


By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.


To mourn a mischief that is past and gone


Is the next way to draw new mischief on.


What cannot be preserved when fortune takes


The robbd that smiles steals something from the thief;


He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.


We lose it not, so long as we can smile.


He bears the sentence well that nothing bears


But the free comfort which from thence he hears,


But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow


That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.


Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:


But words are words; I never yet did hear


That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.


I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.


The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for


Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best


known to you; and though we have there a substitute


of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a


sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer


voice on you: you must therefore be content to


slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this


more stubborn and boisterous expedition.


Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war


My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnise


These present wars against the Ottomites.


Most humbly therefore bending to your state,


By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,


To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear;


And let me find a charter in your voice,


That I did love the Moor to live with him,


My downright violence and storm of fortunes


May trumpet to the world: my hearts subdued


So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,


The rites for which I love him are bereft me,


By his dear absence. Let me go with him.


Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not,


Nor to comply with heat--the young affects


But to be free and bounteous to her mind:


And heaven defend your good souls, that you think


I will your serious and great business scant


For she is with me: no, when light-wingd toys


Of featherd Cupid seal with wanton dullness


That my disports corrupt and taint my business,


Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,


Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste,


At nine i the morning here well meet again.


And he shall our commission bring to you;


With such things else of quality and respect


With what else needful your good grace shall think


Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.


Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:


She has deceived her father, and may thee.


Exeunt DUKE OF VENICE, Senators, Officers,  and c


And bring them after in the best advantage.


Of love, of worldly matters and direction,


To spend with thee: we must obey the time.


If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why,


It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and


then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.


O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four


times seven years; and since I could distinguish


betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man


that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I


would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I


What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so


fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.


Virtue! a fig! tis in ourselves that we are thus


or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which


our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant


nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up


thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or


distract it with many, either to have it sterile


with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the


power and corrigible authority of this lies in our


wills. If the balance of our lives had not one


scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the


blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us


to most preposterous conclusions: but we have


reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal


stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that


It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of


the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown


cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy


friend and I confess me knit to thy deserving with


cables of perdurable toughness; I could never


better stead thee than now. Put money in thy


purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with


an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It


cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her


love to the Moor,-- put money in thy purse,--nor he


his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou


shalt see an answerable sequestration:--put but


money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in


their wills: fill thy purse with money:--the food


that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be


to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must


change for youth: when she is sated with his body,


she will find the error of her choice: she must


have change, she must: therefore put money in thy


purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a


more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money


thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt


an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian not


too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou


shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of


drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek


thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than


Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on


Thou art sure of me:--go, make money:--I have told


thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I


hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no


less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge


against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost


thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many


events in the womb of time which will be delivered.


Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more


For I mine own gaind knowledge should profane,


If I would time expend with such a snipe.


But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor:


And it is thought abroad, that twixt my sheets


He has done my office: I know not ift be true;


Will do as if for surety. He holds me well;


The better shall my purpose work on him.


To get his place and to plume up my will


In double knavery--How, how? Lets see:--


To be suspected, framed to make women false.


That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,


I havet. It is engenderd. Hell and night


Must bring this monstrous birth to the worlds light.


SCENE I. A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.


What from the cape can you discern at sea?


Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood;


I cannot, twixt the heaven and the main,


Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;


A fuller blast neer shook our battlements:


What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,


Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?


For do but stand upon the foaming shore,


The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds;


The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,


seems to cast water on the burning bear,


And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:


Be not enshelterd and embayd, they are drownd:


The desperate tempest hath so bangd the Turks,


That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice


Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance


Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea,


And is in full commission here for Cyprus.


But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort


Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,


And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted


For I have served him, and the man commands


Like a full soldier. Lets to the seaside, ho!


As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,


Even till we make the main and the aerial blue


Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,


That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens


For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea.


Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,


The town is empty; on the brow o the sea


Stand ranks of people, and they cry A sail!


They do discharge their shot of courtesy:


And give us truth who tis that is arrived.


But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?


Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid


That paragons description and wild fame;


One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,


And in the essential vesture of creation


Has had most favourable and happy speed:


Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,


The gutterd rocks and congregated sands--


Traitors ensteepd to clog the guiltless keel,--


Their mortal natures, letting go safely by


She that I spake of, our great captains captain,


Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts


A sennights speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,


And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,


That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,


Make loves quick pants in Desdemonas arms,


Give renewd fire to our extincted spirits


Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Attendants


The riches of the ship is come on shore!


Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.


Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,


What tidings can you tell me of my lord?


But that hes well and will be shortly here.


The great contention of the sea and skies


Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail.


They give their greeting to the citadel;


Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,


That I extend my manners; tis my breeding


That gives me this bold show of courtesy.


Sir, would she give you so much of her lips


I find it still, when I have list to sleep:


She puts her tongue a little in her heart,


Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,


Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,


Saints m your injuries, devils being offended,


Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.


What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst


Come on assay. Theres one gone to the harbour?


Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize;


It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours,


If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,


Well praised! How if she be black and witty?


If she be black, and thereto have a wit,


Shell find a white that shall her blackness fit.


She never yet was foolish that was fair;


For even her folly helpd her to an heir.


These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i


the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for


Theres none so foul and foolish thereunto,


But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.


O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best.


But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving


woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her


merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?


Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,


Never lackd gold and yet went never gay,


Fled from her wish and yet said Now I may,


She that being angerd, her revenge being nigh,


Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,


To change the cods head for the salmons tail;


She that could think and neer disclose her mind,


See suitors following and not look behind,


She was a wight, if ever such wight were,--


To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.


O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn


of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say


you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal


He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in


[Aside]  He takes her by the palm: ay, well said,


whisper: with as little a web as this will I


ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon


her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.


You say true; tis so, indeed: if such tricks as


these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had


been better you had not kissed your three fingers so


oft, which now again you are most apt to play the


sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent


courtesy! tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers


to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!


To see you here before me. O my souls joy!


May the winds blow till they have wakend death!


And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas


As hells from heaven! If it were now to die,


Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,


But that our loves and comforts should increase,


It stops me here; it is too much of joy:


And this, and this, the greatest discords be


But Ill set down the pegs that make this music,


News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks


How does my old acquaintance of this isle?


Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;


I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,


In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago,


Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,


Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants


Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come


hither. If thou best valiant,-- as, they say, base


men being in love have then a nobility in their


natures more than is native to them--list me. The


lieutenant tonight watches on the court of


guard:--first, I must tell thee this--Desdemona is


Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.


Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor,


but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies:


and will she love him still for prating? let not


thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed;


and what delight shall she have to look on the


devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of


sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to


give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour,


sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which


the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these


required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will


find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge,


disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will


instruct her in it and compel her to some second


choice. Now, sir, this granted,--as it is a most


pregnant and unforced position--who stands so


eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio


conscionable than in putting on the mere form of


civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing


of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why,


none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a


finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and


counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never


present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the


knave is handsome, young, and hath all those


requisites in him that folly and green minds look


after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman


I cannot believe that in her; shes full of


Blessed figs-end! the wine she drinks is made of


grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never


have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou


not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst


Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.


Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue


to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met


so near with their lips that their breaths embraced


together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these


mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes


the master and main exercise, the incorporate


conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I


have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night;


for the command, Ill layt upon you. Cassio knows


you not. Ill not be far from you: do you find


some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking


too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what


other course you please, which the time shall more


Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply


may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for


even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to


mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true


taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So


shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by


the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the


impediment most profitably removed, without the


which there were no expectation of our prosperity.


I will do this, if I can bring it to any


I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel:


I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.


That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;


That she loves him, tis apt and of great credit:


The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,


And I dare think hell prove to Desdemona


A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;


Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure


Hath leapd into my seat; the thought whereof


Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;


And nothing can or shall content my soul


Till I am evend with him, wife for wife,


That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,


If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash


For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,


Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb--


For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too--


Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.


Even to madness. Tis here, but yet confused:


Knaverys plain face is never seen tin used.


Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People following


It is Othellos pleasure, our noble and valiant


general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived,


importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet,


every man put himself into triumph; some to dance,


some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and


revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these


beneficial news, it is the celebration of his


nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be


proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full


liberty of feasting from this present hour of five


till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the


isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!


Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants


Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:


Lets teach ourselves that honourable stop,


But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye


Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest


The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;


That profits yet to come tween me and you.


Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants


Not this hour, lieutenant; tis not yet ten o the


clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love


of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame:


he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and


Indeed, shes a most fresh and delicate creature.


What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of


An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.


And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?


Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I


have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace


of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to


Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and


unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish


courtesy would invent some other custom of


O, they are our friends; but one cup: Ill drink for


I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was


craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation


it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity,


and dare not task my weakness with any more.


What, man! tis a night of revels: the gallants


Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.


With that which he hath drunk to-night already,


As my young mistress dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,


Whom love hath turnd almost the wrong side out,


Potations pottle-deep; and hes to watch:


Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,


That hold their honours in a wary distance,


Have I to-night flusterd with flowing cups,


And they watch too. Now, mongst this flock of drunkards,


That may offend the isle.--But here they come:


My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.


Re-enter CASSIO; with him MONTANO and Gentlemen; servants following with wine


Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.


Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am


I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are


most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and


your swag-bellied Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing


Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?


Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead


drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he


gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle


I am for it, lieutenant; and Ill do you justice.


Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.


No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that


does those things. Well, Gods above all; and there


be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.


For mine own part,--no offence to the general, nor


any man of quality,--I hope to be saved.


Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the


lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Lets


have no more of this; lets to our affairs.--Forgive


us our sins!--Gentlemen, lets look to our business.


Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my


ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left:


I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and


Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk.


To the platform, masters; come, lets set the watch.


You see this fellow that is gone before;


And give direction: and do but see his vice;


The one as long as the other: tis pity of him.


Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature


Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,


And looks not on his evils: is not this true?


Should hazard such a place as his own second


I do love Cassio well; and would do much


To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise?


Ill beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.


[Aside to RODERIGO]  Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny.


Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;--


Help, masters!--Heres a goodly watch indeed!


Whos that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho!


The town will rise: Gods will, lieutenant, hold!


Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.


Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?


Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!


Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?


Are we turnd Turks, and to ourselves do that


For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:


He that stirs next to carve for his own rage


Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.


Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle


From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?


Honest Iago, that lookst dead with grieving,


Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.


I do not know: friends all but now, even now,


In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom


Devesting them for bed; and then, but now--


Swords out, and tilting one at others breast,


Those legs that brought me to a part of it!


How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?


The world hath noted, and your name is great


In mouths of wisest censure: whats the matter,


And spend your rich opinion for the name


Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.


While I spare speech, which something now


By me thats said or done amiss this night;


Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,


My blood begins my safer guides to rule;


And passion, having my best judgment collied,


Or do but lift this arm, the best of you


Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know


How this foul rout began, who set it on;


And he that is approved in this offence,


Though he had twinnd with me, both at a birth,


Yet wild, the peoples hearts brimful of fear,


In night, and on the court and guard of safety!


If partially affined, or leagued in office,


Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,


I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth


Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;


Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth


Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.


There comes a fellow crying out for help:


And Cassio following him with determined sword,


To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman


Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:


Lest by his clamour--as it so fell out--


The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,


Outran my purpose; and I returnd the rather


For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,


And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night


I neer might say before. When I came back--


For this was brief--I found them close together,


At blow and thrust; even as again they were


But men are men; the best sometimes forget:


Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,


As men in rage strike those that wish them best,


From him that fled some strange indignity,


Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,


Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee


Look, if my gentle love be not raised up!


Alls well now, sweeting; come away to bed.


Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:


And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.


To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.


Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost


my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of


myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,


As I am an honest man, I thought you had received


some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than


in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false


imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without


deserving: you have lost no reputation at all,


unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man!


there are ways to recover the general again: you


are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in


policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his


offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue


I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so


good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so


indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot?


and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse


fustian with ones own shadow? O thou invisible


spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,


What was he that you followed with your sword? What


I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly;


a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men


should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away


their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance


revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!


Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus


It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place


to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me


another, to make me frankly despise myself.


Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time,


the place, and the condition of this country


stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen;


but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.


I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me


I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra,


such an answer would stop them all. To be now a


sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a


beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is


unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.


Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature,


if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.


And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.


You or any man living may be drunk! at a time, man.


Ill tell you what you shall do. Our generals wife


is now the general: may say so in this respect, for


that he hath devoted and given up himself to the


contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and


graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune


her help to put you in your place again: she is of


so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition,


she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more


than she is requested: this broken joint between


you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my


fortunes against any lay worth naming, this


crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.


I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.


I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will


beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me:


I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here.


You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I


And whats he then that says I play the villain?


When this advice is free I give and honest,


Probal to thinking and indeed the course


To win the Moor again? For tis most easy


In any honest suit: shes framed as fruitful


To win the Moor--weret to renounce his baptism,


That she may make, unmake, do what she list,


With his weak function. How am I then a villain


To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,


When devils will the blackest sins put on,


They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,


As I do now: for whiles this honest fool


And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,


That she repeals him for her bodys lust;


And by how much she strives to do him good,


She shall undo her credit with the Moor.


And out of her own goodness make the net


I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that


hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is


almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well


cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall


have so much experience for my pains, and so, with


no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.


How poor are they that have not patience!


What wound did ever heal but by degrees?


Thou knowst we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;


Doest not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee.


And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashierd Cassio:


Though other things grow fair against the sun,


Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:


Content thyself awhile. By the mass, tis morning;


Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.


Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:


Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:


My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;


Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,


And bring him jump when he may Cassio find


Masters, play here; I will content your pains;


Something thats brief; and bid Good morrow, general.


Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples,


Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?


Marry. sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know.


But, masters, heres money for you: and the general


so likes your music, that he desires you, for loves


If you have any music that may not be heard, tot


again: but, as they say to hear music the general


Then put up your pipes in your bag, for Ill away:


No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.


Prithee, keep up thy quillets. Theres a poor piece


of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends


the generals wife be stirring, tell her theres


one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech:


She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I


Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,


Out of the way, that your converse and business


Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry


For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.


The general and his wife are talking of it;


And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies,


That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus,


And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom


He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you


And needs no other suitor but his likings


To take the safest occasion by the front


If you think fit, or that it may be done,


Give me advantage of some brief discourse


I will bestow you where you shall have time


That done, I will be walking on the works;


This fortification, gentlemen, shall we seet?


Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband,


O, thats an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio,


Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,


Hes never any thing but your true servant.


I knowt; I thank you. You do love my lord:


You have known him long; and be you well assured


He shall in strangeness stand no further off


Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,


That, I being absent and my place supplied,


My general will forget my love and service.


I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,


If I do vow a friendship, Ill perform it


To the last article: my lord shall never rest;


Ill watch him tame and talk him out of patience;


His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;


With Cassios suit: therefore be merry, Cassio;


Nothing, my lord: or if--I know not what.


Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?


Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it,


That he would steal away so guilty-like,


A man that languishes in your displeasure.


Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,


If I have any grace or power to move you,


For if he be not one that truly loves you,


That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,


That he hath left part of his grief with me,


To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.


Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time.


Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;


On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn:


I prithee, name the time, but let it not


Exceed three days: in faith, hes penitent;


And yet his trespass, in our common reason--


Save that, they say, the wars must make examples


Out of their best--is not almost a fault


To incur a private cheque. When shall he come?


What you would ask me, that I should deny,


Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,


That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time,


Hath taen your part; to have so much to do


To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,--


Prithee, no more: let him come when he will;


Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,


Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,


To your own person: nay, when I have a suit


Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,


It shall be full of poise and difficult weight


Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,


Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord.


Farewell, my Desdemona: Ill come to thee straight.


Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;


Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,


But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,


Did Michael Cassio, when you wood my lady,


He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?


I did not think he had been acquainted with her.


Indeed! ay, indeed: discernst thou aught in that?


As if there were some monster in his thought


Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something:


I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that,


When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?


And when I told thee he was of my counsel


In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst Indeed!


And didst contract and purse thy brow together,


As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain


Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,


And, for I know thourt full of love and honesty,


And weighst thy words before thou givest them breath,


Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:


For such things in a false disloyal knave


Are tricks of custom, but in a man thats just


They are close delations, working from the heart


I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.


Or those that be not, would they might seem none!


Why, then, I think Cassios an honest man.


I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,


As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts


I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.


Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false;


As wheres that palace whereinto foul things


Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,


Keep leets and law-days and in session sit


Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,


If thou but thinkst him wrongd and makest his ear


Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,


Shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom yet,


Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble


Out of his scattering and unsure observance.


It were not for your quiet nor your good,


Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,


Who steals my purse steals trash; tis something, nothing;


Twas mine, tis his, and has been slave to thousands:


But he that filches from me my good name


You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;


Nor shall not, whilst tis in my custody.


It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock


The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss


Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;


But, O, what damned minutes tells he oer


Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!


Poor and content is rich and rich enough,


But riches fineless is as poor as winter


To him that ever fears he shall be poor.


Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend


Thinkst thou Ild make a lie of jealousy,


With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt


Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat,


When I shall turn the business of my soul


To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,


Matching thy inference. Tis not to make me jealous


To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,


Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well;


Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:


Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw


The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;


For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;


Ill see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;


And on the proof, there is no more but this,--


I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason


To show the love and duty that I bear you


With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,


Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.


Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;


Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure:


I would not have your free and noble nature,


Out of self-bounty, be abused; look tot:


In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks


They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience


Is not to leavet undone, but keept unknown.


She did deceive her father, marrying you;


And when she seemd to shake and fear your looks,


She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,


To seal her fathers eyes up close as oak-


He thought twas witchcraft--but I am much to blame;


I see this hath a little dashd your spirits.


Comes from my love. But I do see youre moved: