Chapter: SCENE II.
A room in the castle.

Enter Othello and Emilia.

  OTHELLO. You have seen nothing, then?
  EMILIA. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.
  OTHELLO. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
  EMILIA. But then I saw no harm, and then I heard
    Each syllable that breath made up between them.
  OTHELLO. What, did they never whisper?
  EMILIA.                                Never, my lord.
  OTHELLO. Nor send you out o' the way?
  EMILIA. Never.
  OTHELLO. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
  EMILIA. Never, my lord.
  OTHELLO. That's strange.
  EMILIA. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
    Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other,
    Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
    If any wretch have put this in your head,
    Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!
    For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
    There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
    Is foul as slander.
  OTHELLO.              Bid her come hither; go.         Exit
Emilia.
    She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd
    That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
    A closet lock and key of villainous secrets.
    And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't.

                     Enter Desdemona with Emilia.

  DESDEMONA. My lord, what is your will?
  OTHELLO.                               Pray, chuck, come
hither.
  DESDEMONA. What is your pleasure?
  OTHELLO.                          Let me see your eyes;
    Look in my face.
  DESDEMONA.         What horrible fancy's this?
  OTHELLO. [To Emilia.] Some of your function, mistress,
    Leave procreants alone and shut the door;
    Cough, or cry "hem," if anybody come.
    Your mystery, your mystery; nay, dispatch.           Exit
Emilia.
  DESDEMONA. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
    I understand a fury in your words,
    But not the words.
  OTHELLO. Why, what art thou?
  DESDEMONA. Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife.
  OTHELLO. Come, swear it, damn thyself;
    Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
    Should fear to seize thee. Therefore be double-damn'd;
    Swear thou art honest.
  DESDEMONA.               Heaven doth truly know it.
  OTHELLO. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.
  DESDEMONA. To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?
  OTHELLO. O Desdemona! Away! away! away!
  DESDEMONA. Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?
    Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
    If haply you my father do suspect
    An instrument of this your calling back,
    Lay not your blame on me. If you have lost him,
    Why, I have lost him too.
  OTHELLO.                    Had it pleased heaven
    To try me with affliction, had they rain'd
    All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head,
    Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
    Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
    I should have found in some place of my soul
    A drop of patience; but, alas, to make me
    A fixed figure for the time for scorn
    To point his slow unmoving finger at!
    Yet could I bear that too, well, very well;
    But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
    Where either I must live or bear no life;
    The fountain from the which my current runs,
    Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
    Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
    To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,
    Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,
    Ay, there, look grim as hell!
  DESDEMONA. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
  OTHELLO. O, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles,
    That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
    Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
    That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been
born!
  DESDEMONA. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
  OTHELLO. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
    Made to write "whore" upon? What committed?
    Committed? O thou public commoner!
    I should make very forges of my cheeks,
    That would to cinders burn up modesty,
    Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
    Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
    The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
    Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
    And will not hear it. What committed?
    Impudent strumpet!
  DESDEMONA.           By heaven, you do me wrong.
  OTHELLO. Are not you a strumpet?
  DESDEMONA.                       No, as I am a Christian.
    If to preserve this vessel for my lord
    From any other foul unlawful touch
    Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.
  OTHELLO. What, not a whore?
  DESDEMONA.                  No, as I shall be saved.
  OTHELLO. Is't possible?
  DESDEMONA. O, heaven forgive us!
  OTHELLO.                         I cry you mercy then;
    I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
    That married with Othello. [Raises his voice.] You, mistress,
    That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
    And keep the gate of hell!

                           Re-enter Emilia.

                               You, you, ay, you!
    We have done our course; there's money for your pains.
    I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
Exit.
  EMILIA. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
    How do you, madam? How do you, my good lady?
  DESDEMONA. Faith, half asleep.
  EMILIA. Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?
  DESDEMONA. With who?
  EMILIA. Why, with my lord, madam.
  DESDEMONA. Who is thy lord?
  EMILIA.                     He that is yours, sweet lady.
  DESDEMONA. I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia;
    I cannot weep, nor answer have I none
    But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight
    Lay on my bed my wedding sheets. Remember,
    And call thy husband hither.
  EMILIA.                        Here's a change indeed!
     Exit.
  DESDEMONA. 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
    How have I been behaved, that he might stick
    The small'st opinion on my least misuse?

                      Re-enter Emilia with Iago.

  IAGO. What is your pleasure, madam? How is't with you?
  DESDEMONA. I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes
    Do it with gentle means and easy tasks.
    He might have chid me so, for in good faith,
    I am a child to chiding.
  IAGO.                      What's the matter, lady?
  EMILIA. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her,
    Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
    As true hearts cannot bear.
  DESDEMONA. Am I that name, Iago?
  IAGO.                            What name, fair lady?
  DESDEMONA. Such as she says my lord did say I was.
  EMILIA. He call'd her whore; a beggar in his drink
    Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.
  IAGO. Why did he so?
  DESDEMONA. I do not know; I am sure I am none such.
  IAGO. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!
  EMILIA. Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
    Her father and her country and her friends,
    To be call'd whore? Would it not make one weep?
  DESDEMONA. It is my wretched fortune.
  IAGO.                                 Beshrew him for't!
    How comes this trick upon him?
  DESDEMONA.                       Nay, heaven doth know.
  EMILIA. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
    Some busy and insinuating rogue,
    Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
    Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else.
  IAGO. Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible.
  DESDEMONA. If any such there be, heaven pardon him!
  EMILIA. A halter pardon him! And hell gnaw his bones!
    Why should he call her whore? Who keeps her company?
    What place? What time? What form? What likelihood?
    The Moor's abused by some most villainous knave,
    Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
    O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold,
    And put in every honest hand a whip
    To lash the rascals naked through the world
    Even from the east to the west!
  IAGO.                             Speak within door.
  EMILIA. O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was
    That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,
    And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
  IAGO. You are a fool; go to.
  DESDEMONA.                   O good Iago,
    What shall I do to win my lord again?
    Good friend, go to him, for by this light of heaven,
    I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:
    If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love
    Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,
    Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
    Delighted them in any other form,
    Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
    And ever will, though he do shake me off
    To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,
    Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much,
    And his unkindness may defeat my life,
    But never taint my love. I cannot say "whore."
    It doth abhor me now I speak the word;
    To do the act that might the addition earn
    Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.
  IAGO. I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humor:
    The business of the state does him offense,
    And he does chide with you.
  DESDEMONA. If 'twere no other--
  IAGO. 'Tis but so, I warrant.                      Trumpets
within.
    Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
    The messengers of Venice stay the meat.
    Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.
                                         Exeunt Desdemona and
Emilia.

                           Enter Roderigo.

    How now, Roderigo!
  RODERIGO. I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.
  IAGO. What in the contrary?
  RODERIGO. Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and
    rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all
conveniency
    than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will
indeed
    no longer endure it; nor am I yet persuaded to put up in
peace
    what already I have foolishly suffered.
  IAGO. Will you hear me, Roderigo?
  RODERIGO. Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and
    performances are no kin together.
  IAGO. You charge me most unjustly.
  RODERIGO. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my
    means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to
Desdemona
    would half have corrupted a votarist. You have told me she
hath
    received them and returned me expectations and comforts of
sudden
    respect and acquaintance; but I find none.
  IAGO. Well, go to, very well.
  RODERIGO. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis not
very
    well. By this hand, I say 'tis very scurvy, and begin to find
    myself fopped in it.
  IAGO. Very well.
  RODERIGO. I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself
known
    to Desdemona. If she will return me my jewels, I will give
over
    my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure
    yourself I will seek satisfaction of you.
  IAGO. You have said now.
  RODERIGO. Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of
    doing.
  IAGO. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; and even from this

    instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before.
Give
    me thy hand, Roderigo. Thou hast taken against me a most just
    exception; but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in
thy
    affair.
  RODERIGO. It hath not appeared.
  IAGO. I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion
is
    not without wit and judgement. But, Roderigo, if thou hast
that
    in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now
than
    ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valor, this night show it;
if
    thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me
from
    this world with treachery and devise engines for my life.
  RODERIGO. Well, what is it? Is it within reason and compass?
  IAGO. Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to
depute
    Cassio in Othello's place.
  RODERIGO. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona return
again
    to Venice.
  IAGO. O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him
the
    fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some
    accident; wherein none can be so determinate as the removing
of
    Cassio.
  RODERIGO. How do you mean, removing of him?
  IAGO. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place; knocking
out
    his brains.
  RODERIGO. And that you would have me to do?
  IAGO. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups
    tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him. He
knows
    not yet of his honorable fortune. If you will watch his going
    thence, which his will fashion to fall out between twelve and
    one, you may take him at your pleasure; I will be near to
second
    your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not
    amazed at it, but go along with me; I will show you such a
    necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to
put
    it on him. It is now high supper-time, and the night grows to
    waste. About it.
  RODERIGO. I will hear further reason for this.
  IAGO. And you shall be satisfied.
Exeunt.

 We open with Othello grilling Emilia, trying to get her to confess that Desdemona and Cassio are having an affair. Emilia tells him that he's crazy--she has observed Cassio and Desdemona every minute they were together, and nothing remotely suspicious has happened. She's sure that Desdemona is honest, if ever there were an honest woman. Emilia insists that only some wretch could have put this thought into his head. Othello then sends Emilia to get Desdemona, dismissing her claims as the simple testimony of a simple woman. Othello has convinced himself that Desdemona is cunning in her harlotry, and it's no surprise she wouldn't be found out, even by her woman friend. Apprehensively, Desdemona enters. Othello flies into a passion, falling into tears. He accuses Desdemona of being false , but Desdemona denies it and tries to argue otherwise. She then suggests that Othello's rage might be inspired by the letter he received earlier today calling him back to Venice. Desdemona wonders if perhaps Othello thinks the summons to leave Cyprus were the machinations of her angry father back in Venice. Still, she says if her father had a hand in this, she's not to blame, as she remains staunchly on Othello's side. Still, Othello mourns his mystery loss; he says he could bear any amount of suffering from the world, and proceeds to detail any and all types, including sores, poverty, slavery, and a world of scorn. With any of these, he says, he could have patience--but he cannot bear this abuse of his heart. Desdemona begs him to tell her what she has done wrong, and Othello calls her a whore and a strumpet. Desdemona swears on her soul that she has never touched anybody but him, but he doesn't believe her. Emilia walks in on this little exchange, so Othello takes to abusing her, too. He praises her for being the gatekeeper to Hell, and tells her that she'd do best to keep the events of this night to herself. Othello then exits, and the ladies are left with raised eyebrows. Emilia questions Desdemona worriedly about Othello's behavior, wondering what's happened to her "lord." She then declares that she has no lord, nor does she have tears to cry, and no answer is appropriate about what is going on with Othello except an answer that could be told in tears. Desdemona bids Emilia to lay her wedding sheets on the quarreling lovers' bed tonight, and asks to have Iago come and talk to her. Alone, she resents bearing all this abuse, mostly because she's done nothing wrong. Emilia returns with Iago. Desdemona says she can't even begin to comprehend the things Othello has said to her. She was brought up so gently that she can't make sense of his abuse. Thankfully, Emilia witnessed the whole thing and is happy to dish. She says Othello called Desdemona a whore and all sorts of other cruel names--things worse than a drunk beggar would have said to a prostitute. Iago pretends not to know why Othello would behave this way and begs Desdemona not to weep. Next, Emilia reminds Desdemona that she turned down all sorts of nice, rich Venetian boys, even her father, and her friends, and her country...all to marry Othello. She also suggests that it could only be some really vile person, seeking his own self interest, that plied Othello with lies about Desdemona's faithfulness in order to make him jealous. She prattles on about this for a while, and Iago tells her to speak quietly, but Emilia notes that it was a very similar scheme, lies from a lying liar, that made Iago believe Othello had been with her too. Iago tells Emilia to shut up already. Desdemona begs Iago to tell her what to do, or go talk to Othello on her behalf, to cure him of his wrong-mindedness. She can't believe this is happening to her--as she truly loves Othello. She can't even imagine going behind his back to be with somebody else. Iago tells Desdemona not to worry--Othello is probably just upset about state business. He points out that the messengers from Venice are waiting to eat with the women, which is clearly more important than Othello's inexplicable and murderous rage. Iago promises "things shall be well" , and Desdemona and Emilia leave Iago alone. Roderigo comes in to yell at Iago for not yet setting him up with Desdemona but still spending all of his money. Roderigo's finally starting to wise up to the fact that Iago is just using him for his cash, and in fact never really cared about him. Roderigo, who seems rather broke at the moment, wants to know what happened to all the expensive jewelry he gave Iago to give to Desdemona. Iago kept promising that Desdemona was getting the gifts and wanted to give something up in return, but he has yet to see any special favors of Othello's wife. Roderigo then throws down the gauntlet--he declares that he'll go and see Desdemona himself. If she returns his jewels, he'll repent ever having tried to court a married woman. But if she has no jewels to return, then Roderigo will take it out on Iago. Iago, hearing Roderigo threaten him, declares him a much better man than he'd ever taken him for. Iago insists he's actually been working on the situation and that Roderigo will be all up in Desdemona's jewels come tomorrow night. All Roderigo has to do is listen to Iago's plan. Iago informs Roderigo that Othello's been called back to Venice, and Cassio is to replace him in Cyprus. Iago also casts random lies, claiming Othello is headed to Mauritania with Desdemona. If Roderigo were to get rid of Cassio, then Othello couldn't leave Cyprus. Anyway, Iago quite expertly calms Roderigo down and convinces him that he needs to kill Cassio that very night, probably while Cassio is having dinner with his harlot who, it seems, forgave him for the whole handkerchief thing. Iago promises he'll be right behind him to help with the murdering. Iago declares all of this should go down sometime between midnight and one in the morning. Iago is clear: murdering Cassio is the only way to get to Desdemona. Roderigo, ever a wit, points out that this plan really doesn't make any sense. Somehow Roderigo is appeased when Iago promises he'll explain it all later.

