Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner,
I should make very Forges of my cheekes,
That would to Cynders burne vp Modestie,
Did I but speake thy deedes. What commited?
Heauen stoppes the Nose at it, and the Moone winks:
The baudy winde that kisses all it meetes,
Is hush'd within the hollow Myne of Earth
And will not hear't. What commited?
Des.
By Heauen you do me wrong.
Othe.
Are not you a Strumpet?
Des.
No, as I am a Christian.
If to preserue this vessell for my Lord,
From any other foule vnlawfull touch
Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none.
Othe.
What, not a Whore?
Des.
No, as I shall be sau'd.
Othe.
Is't possible?
Des.
Oh Heauen forgiue vs.
Othe.
I cry you mercy then.
I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice,
That married with Othello. You Mistris,
Enter Æmilia.
And keepes the gate of hell. You, you: I you.
We haue done our course: there's money for your paines:
I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsaile.Exit.
Æmil.
Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceiue?
How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady?
Des.
Faith, halfe a sleepe.
Æmi.
Good Madam,
What's the matter with my Lord?
Des.
With who?
Æmil.
Why, with my Lord, Madam?
Des.
Who is thy Lord?
Æmil.
He that is yours, sweet Lady.
Des.
I haue none: do not talke to me, Æmilia,
I cannot weepe: nor answeres haue I none,
But what should go by water. Prythee to night,
Lay on my bed my wedding sheetes, remember,
And call thy husband hither.
Æmil.
Heere's a change indeed.Exit.
Des.
'Tis meete I should be vs'd so: very meete.
How haue I bin behau'd, that he might sticke
The small'st opinion on my least misvse?
Enter Iago, and Æmilia.
Iago.
What is your pleasure Madam?
How is't with you?
Des.
I cannot tell: those that do teach yong Babes
Do it with gentle meanes, and easie taskes.
He might haue chid me so; for in good faith
I am a Child to chiding.
Iago.
What is the matter Lady?
Æmil.
Alas (Iago) my Lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Throwne such dispight, and heauy termes vpon her
That true hearts cannot beare it.
Des.
Am I that name, Iago?
Iago.
What name, (faire Lady?)
Des.
Such as she said my Lord did say I was.
Æmil.
He call'd her whore: a Begger in his drinke:
Could not haue laid such termes vpon his Callet.
Iago.
Why did he so?
Des.
I do not know: I am sure I am none such.
Iago.
Do not weepe, do not weepe: alas the day.
Æmil.
Hath she forsooke so many Noble Matches?
Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends?
To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weepe?
Des.
It is my wretched Fortune.
Iago.
Beshrew him for't:
How comes this Tricke vpon him?
Des.
Nay, Heauen doth know.
Æmi.
I will be hang'd, if some eternall Villaine,
Some busie and insinuating Rogue,
Some cogging, cozening Slaue, to get some Office,
Haue not deuis'd this Slander: I will be hang'd else.
Iago.
Fie, there is no such man: it is impossible.
Des.
If any such there be, Heauen pardon him.
Æmil.
A halter pardon him:
And hell gnaw his bones.
Why should he call her Whore?
Who keepes her companie?
What Place? What Time?
What Forme? What liklyhood?
The Moore's abus'd by some most villanous Knaue,
Some base notorious Knaue, some scuruy Fellow.
Oh Heauens, that such companions thou'd'st vnfold,
And put in euery honest hand a whip
To lash the Rascalls naked through the world,
Euen from the East to th'West.
Iago.
Speake within doore.
Æmil.
Oh fie vpon them: some such Squire he was
That turn'd your wit, the seamy-side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moore.
Iago.
You are a Foole: go too.
Des.
Alas Iago,
What shall I do to win my Lord againe?
Good Friend, go to him: for by this light of Heauen,
I know not how I lost him. Heere I kneele:
If ere my will did trespasse 'gainst his Loue,
Either in discourse of thought, or actuall deed,
Or that mine Eyes, mine Eares, or any Sence
Delighted them: or any other Forme.
Or that I do not yet, and euer did,
And euer will, (though he do shake me off
To beggerly diuorcement) Loue him deerely,
Comfort forsweare me. Vnkindnesse may do much,
And his vnkindnesse may defeat my life,
But neuer taynt my Loue. I cannot say Whore,
It do's abhorre me now I speake the word,
To do the Act, that might the addition earne,
Not the worlds Masse of vanitie could make me.
Iago.
I pray you be content: 'tis but his humour:
The businesse of the State do's him offence.
Des.
If 'twere no other.
Iago.
It is but so, I warrant,
Hearke how these Instruments summon to supper:
The Messengers of Venice staies the meate,
Enter Rodorigo.
Rod.
I do not finde
That thou deal'st iustly with me.
Iago.
What in the contrarie?
Rodori.
Euery day thou dafts me with some deuise Iago, and rather, as it seemes to me now, keep'st from me all conueniencie, then suppliest me with the least aduantage of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already I haue foolishly suffred.
Iago.
Will you heare me Rodorigo?
Rodori. I
