SCENE III. Cyprus. The Garden of the Castle.
[Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia.]
Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
All my abilities in thy behalf.
Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband
As if the cause were his.
O, that's an honest fellow. — Do not doubt, Cassio,
But I will have my lord and you again
As friendly as you were.
Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
He's never anything but your true servant.
I know't, — I thank you. You do love my lord:
You have known him long; and be you well assur'd
He shall in strangeness stand no farther off
Than in a politic distance.
Ay, but, lady,
That policy may either last so long,
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
That, I being absent, and my place supplied,
My general will forget my love and service.
Do not doubt that; before Emilia here
I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
To the last article: my lord shall never rest;
I'll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience;
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
I'll intermingle everything he does
With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio;
For thy solicitor shall rather die
Than give thy cause away.
Madam, here comes my lord.
Madam, I'll take my leave.
Why, stay, and hear me speak.
Madam, not now. I am very ill at ease,
Unfit for mine own purposes.
Well, do your discretion.
[Enter Othello and Iago.]
Ha! I like not that.
What dost thou say?
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,
Seeing you coming.
I do believe 'twas he.
How now, my lord!
I have been talking with a suitor here,
A man that languishes in your displeasure.
Who is't you mean?
Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,
If I have any grace or power to move you,
His present reconciliation take;
For if he be not one that truly loves you,
That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
I have no judgement in an honest face:
I pr'ythee, call him back.
Went he hence now?
Ay, sooth; so humbled
That he hath left part of his grief with me
To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.
Not now, sweet Desdemon; some other time.
But shall't be shortly?
The sooner, sweet, for you.
Shall't be to-night at supper?
No, not to-night.
To-morrow dinner then?
I shall not dine at home;
I meet the captains at the citadel.
Why then to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;
On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn: —
I pr'ythee, name the time; but let it not
Exceed three days: in faith, he's 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 check. When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul,
What you would ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
That came awooing with you; and so many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part; — to have so much to do
To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much, —
Pr'ythee, no more; let him come when he will;
I will deny thee nothing.
Why, this is not a boon;
'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
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,
And fearful to be granted.
I will deny thee nothing:
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.
Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord.
Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight.
Emilia, come. — Be as your fancies teach you;
Whate'er you be, I am obedient.
[Exit with Emilia.]
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again.
My noble lord, —
What dost thou say, Iago?
Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
Know of your love?
He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?
But for a satisfaction of my thought;
No further harm.
Why of thy thought, Iago?
I did not think he had been acquainted with her.