SCENE III. Another room In the castle. Othello, the Moore of Venice  Shakespeare homepage  |  Othello  | Act 4, Scene 3 

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 Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA and Attendants  LODOVICO  I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further. 

 OTHELLO  O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk. 

 LODOVICO  Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship. 

 DESDEMONA  Your honour is most welcome. 

 OTHELLO  Will you walk, sir? 

 O,--Desdemona,-- 

 DESDEMONA  My lord? 

 OTHELLO  Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned 

 forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it be done. 

 DESDEMONA  I will, my lord. 



 Exeunt OTHELLO, LODOVICO, and Attendants  EMILIA  How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did. 

 DESDEMONA  He says he will return incontinent: 

 He hath commanded me to go to bed, 

 And bade me to dismiss you. 

 EMILIA  Dismiss me! 

 DESDEMONA  It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,. 

 Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu: 

 We must not now displease him. 

 EMILIA  I would you had never seen him! 

 DESDEMONA  So would not I	my love doth so approve him, 

 That even his stubbornness, his cheques, his frowns-- 

 Prithee, unpin me,--have grace and favour in them. 

 EMILIA  I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. 

 DESDEMONA  All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds! 

 If I do die before thee prithee, shroud me 

 In one of those same sheets. 

 EMILIA  Come, come you talk. 

 DESDEMONA  My mother had a maid call'd Barbara: 

 She was in love, and he she loved proved mad 

 And did forsake her: she had a song of 'willow;' 

 An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, 

 And she died singing it: that song to-night 

 Will not go from my mind; I have much to do, 

 But to go hang my head all at one side, 

 And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch. 

 EMILIA  Shall I go fetch your night-gown? 

 DESDEMONA  No, unpin me here. 

 This Lodovico is a proper man. 

 EMILIA  A very handsome man. 

 DESDEMONA  He speaks well. 

 EMILIA  I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot 

 to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip. 

 DESDEMONA  [Singing]  The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, 

 Sing all a green willow: 

 Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, 

 Sing willow, willow, willow: 

 The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans; 

 Sing willow, willow, willow; 

 Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones; 

 Lay by these:-- 



 Singing  Sing willow, willow, willow; 

 Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:-- 



 Singing  Sing all a green willow must be my garland. 

 Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,- 

 Nay, that's not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks? 

 EMILIA  It's the wind. 

 DESDEMONA  [Singing]  I call'd my love false love; but what 

 said he then? 

 Sing willow, willow, willow: 

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

 So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do itch; 

 Doth that bode weeping? 

 EMILIA  'Tis neither here nor there. 

 DESDEMONA  I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men! 

 Dost thou in conscience think,--tell me, Emilia,-- 

 That there be women do abuse their husbands 

 In such gross kind? 

 EMILIA  There be some such, no question. 

 DESDEMONA  Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? 

 EMILIA  Why, would not you? 

 DESDEMONA  No, by this heavenly light! 

 EMILIA  Nor I neither by this heavenly light; 

 I might do't as well i' the dark. 

 DESDEMONA  Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? 

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

 For a small vice. 

 DESDEMONA  In troth, I think thou wouldst not. 

 EMILIA  In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I had 

 done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a 

 joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for 

 gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty 

 exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would 

 not make her husband a cuckold to make him a 

 monarch? I should venture purgatory for't. 

 DESDEMONA  Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong 

 For the whole world. 

 EMILIA  Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: and 

 having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your 

 own world, and you might quickly make it right. 

 DESDEMONA  I do not think there is any such woman. 

 EMILIA  Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would 

 store the world they played for. 

 But I do think it is their husbands' faults 

 If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties, 

 And pour our treasures into foreign laps, 

 Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 

 Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us, 

 Or scant our former having in despite; 

 Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, 

 Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know 

 Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell 

 And have their palates both for sweet and sour, 

 As husbands have. What is it that they do 

 When they change us for others? Is it sport? 

 I think it is: and doth affection breed it? 

 I think it doth: is't frailty that thus errs? 

 It is so too: and have not we affections, 

 Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? 

 Then let them use us well: else let them know, 

 The ills we do, their ills instruct us so. 

 DESDEMONA  Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send, 

 Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! 



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