Othello, Act 2, Scene 3

Othello

Good Michael, look you to the guard tonight.Let’s teach ourselves that honourable stop,Not to outsport discretion.

Good Michael, see to the guard tonight. Let's show honorable restraint and not let our celebrations go beyond good judgment.

Cassio

Iago hath direction what to do.But notwithstanding with my personal eyeWill I look to’t.

Iago has instructions about what to do. Even so, I'll keep an eye on it myself.

Othello

Iago is most honest.Michael, good night. Tomorrow with your earliestLet me have speech with you. [To Desdemona.] Come, my dear love,The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;That profit’s yet to come ’tween me and you.—Good night.

Iago is completely honest. Michael, good night. Let me speak with you first thing tomorrow. [To Desdemona.] Come, my dear love. The bargain is made, and now we can enjoy its rewards. That pleasure still lies ahead for you and me. Good night.

Cassio

Welcome, Iago. We must to the watch.

Welcome, Iago. We must go to our guard duty.

Iago

Not this hour, lieutenant. ’Tis not yet ten o’ th’ 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 she is sport for Jove.

Not yet, lieutenant. It isn't even ten o’clock. Our general dismissed us this early because of his love for Desdemona, and let's not blame him for that. He hasn't yet spent a night making love to her, and she's a woman fit for Jove to play with.

Cassio

She’s a most exquisite lady.

She's a truly exquisite lady.

Iago

And, I’ll warrant her, full of game.

And full of bedroom fun, I'll bet.

Cassio

Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicate creature.

Indeed, she's a wonderfully fresh and delicate woman.

Iago

What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley to provocation.

What an eye she has! It seems to invite you to make a move.

Cassio

An inviting eye, and yet methinks right modest.

An inviting eye, and yet, I think, perfectly modest.

Iago

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

And when she speaks, isn't it a call to lovemaking?

Cassio

She is indeed perfection.

She really is perfect.

Iago

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 the health of black Othello.

Well, happiness to their bedsheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a jug of wine, and there are two fine gentlemen from Cyprus outside who would love to drink a toast to black Othello's health.

Cassio

Not tonight, good Iago. I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.

Not tonight, good Iago. I have a terribly poor head for drinking. I really wish politeness would come up with some other way to entertain people.

Iago

O, they are our friends; but one cup: I’ll drink for you.

Oh, they're our friends. Just one cup. I'll do your drinking for you.

Cassio

I have drunk but one cup tonight, 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.

I've had only one cup tonight, and that was carefully watered down. Look what a change it's made in my head. It's an unfortunate weakness of mine, and I daren't put it to the test with any more.

Iago

What, man! ’Tis a night of revels. The gallants desire it.

Come on, man! It's a night for celebrating. The gentlemen want you to join them.

Cassio

Where are they?

Where are they?

Iago

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

Right outside the door. Please call them in.

Cassio

I’ll do’t; but it dislikes me.

I'll do it, but I don't like it.

Iago

If I can fasten but one cup upon him,With that which he hath drunk tonight already,He’ll be as full of quarrel and offenceAs my young mistress’ dog. Now my sick fool Roderigo,Whom love hath turn’d almost the wrong side out,To Desdemona hath tonight carous’dPotations pottle-deep; and he’s to watch:Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,That hold their honours in a wary distance,The very elements of this warlike isle,Have I tonight fluster’d with flowing cups,And they watch too. Now, ’mongst this flock of drunkards,Am I to put our Cassio in some actionThat may offend the isle. But here they come:If consequence do but approve my dream,My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.

If I can get just one more cup into him, on top of what he’s already drunk tonight, he’ll be as quarrelsome and nasty as my young mistress’s dog. Now that lovesick fool Roderigo, whom love has almost turned inside out, has drunk half-gallon measures tonight in toasts to Desdemona, and he’s on guard duty. I’ve also gotten three men of Cyprus drunk tonight with overflowing cups. They’re proud, high-spirited gentlemen, quick to defend their honor, and they embody the spirit of this warlike island. They’re on guard duty too. Now, among this flock of drunkards, I must get our Cassio to do something that will upset the island. But here they come. If events turn out as I’ve imagined, my boat will sail smoothly, with both the wind and the current behind it.

Cassio

’Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.

By God, they’ve already given me a good drink.

Montano

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

Honestly, only a little one—not more than a pint, on my honor as a soldier.

Iago

Some wine, ho![Sings.]

Bring some wine!
[He sings.]

Cassio

’Fore God, an excellent song.

By God, an excellent song.

Iago

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 to your English.

I learned it in England, where they really are champions at drinking. Your Dane, your German, and your potbellied Dutchman—drink up!—are nothing compared with your Englishman.

Cassio

Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?

Is an Englishman such an expert drinker?

Iago

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 can be filled.

Why, he can easily drink a Dane under the table. He can outdrink a German without breaking a sweat. He’ll have a Dutchman vomiting before the next half-gallon jug can be filled.

Cassio

To the health of our general!

To our general’s health!

Montano

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

I’m with you, lieutenant, and I’ll match your drink.

Iago

O sweet England!

Oh, sweet England!

Cassio

’Fore God, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

By God, this song is even finer than the other.

Iago

Will you hear ’t again?

Would you like to hear it again?

Cassio

No, for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God’s above all, and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

No, because I think a man who does such things is unworthy of his position. Well, God is above us all, and some souls must be saved, and some souls must not be saved.

Iago

It’s true, good lieutenant.

That’s true, good lieutenant.

Cassio

For mine own part, no offence to the general, nor any man of quality, I hope to be saved.

For my own part, with no offense to the general or any gentleman of rank, I hope to be saved.

Iago

And so do I too, lieutenant.

So do I, lieutenant.

Cassio

Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let’s have no more of this; let’s to our affairs. Forgive us our sins! Gentlemen, let’s 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 I speak well enough.

Yes, but, if you don’t mind, not before me. The lieutenant must be saved before the ensign. Let’s have no more of this. Let’s get to our duties. Forgive us our sins! Gentlemen, let’s attend to our business. Don’t think I’m drunk, gentlemen. This is my ensign, this is my right hand, and this is my left. I’m not drunk now. I can stand well enough, and I can speak well enough.

All

Excellent well.

Extremely well.

Cassio

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

Well, very good, then. So you must not think I’m drunk.

Montano

To the platform, masters. Come, let’s set the watch.

To the guard platform, gentlemen. Come, let’s post the guards.

Iago

You see this fellow that is gone before,He is a soldier fit to stand by CæsarAnd give direction: and do but see his vice,’Tis to his virtue a just equinox,The one as long as th’ other. ’Tis pity of him.I fear the trust Othello puts him in,On some odd time of his infirmity,Will shake this island.

You see that man who just left? He’s a soldier worthy of standing beside Cæsar and advising him. But look at his vice: it matches his virtue exactly, with as much of one as the other. It’s a pity. I’m afraid that the responsibility Othello gives him will throw this island into turmoil sometime when this weakness gets the better of him.

Montano

But is he often thus?

But is he often like this?

Iago

’Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:He’ll watch the horologe a double setIf drink rock not his cradle.

It’s always what he does before sleeping. He’ll stay awake for two full rounds of the clock unless drink rocks him to sleep.

Montano

It were wellThe general were put in mind of it.Perhaps he sees it not, or his good naturePrizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,And looks not on his evils: is not this true?

The general should be told about it. Perhaps he doesn’t notice, or his good nature makes him value Cassio’s obvious virtues and overlook his faults. Isn’t that true?

Iago (aside to him)

How now, Roderigo?I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.

[Quietly to Roderigo.] What’s happening, Roderigo? Please, follow the lieutenant. Go.

Montano

And ’tis great pity that the noble MoorShould hazard such a place as his own secondWith one of an ingraft infirmity:It were an honest action to say soTo the Moor.

And it’s a great pity that the noble Moor should risk giving such a position as his second-in-command to a man with such a deeply rooted weakness. It would be an honorable act to tell the Moor.

Iago

Not I, for this fair island.I do love Cassio well and would do muchTo cure him of this evil. But, hark! What noise?

I wouldn’t do it, not for this whole beautiful island. I love Cassio dearly and would do a great deal to cure him of this fault. But listen! What’s that noise?

Cassio

Zounds, you rogue, you rascal!

Damn you, you scoundrel, you bastard!

Montano

What’s the matter, lieutenant?

What’s the matter, lieutenant?

Cassio

A knave teach me my duty! I’ll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

That scoundrel thinks he can teach me my duty! I’ll beat him into a wicker-covered bottle.

Roderigo

Beat me?

Beat me?

Cassio

Dost thou prate, rogue?

Are you talking back, you scoundrel?

Montano

Nay, good lieutenant;I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

No, good lieutenant. Please, sir, stop hitting him.

Cassio

Let me go, sir,Or I’ll knock you o’er the mazard.

Let me go, sir, or I’ll hit you over the head.

Montano

Come, come, you’re drunk.

Come on, you’re drunk.

Cassio

Drunk?

Drunk?

Iago (aside to Roderigo)

Away, I say! Go out and cry a mutiny.

Get away, I tell you! Go out and shout that there’s a mutiny.

Othello

What is the matter here?

What’s going on here?

Montano

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

Damn it, I’m still bleeding. I’m fatally wounded.

Othello

Hold, for your lives!

Stop, if you value your lives!

Iago

Hold, ho! lieutenant,—sir,—Montano,—gentlemen,—Have you forgot all place of sense and duty?Hold! The general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!

Stop! Lieutenant—sir—Montano—gentlemen!
Have you forgotten all sense of reason and duty?
Stop! The general is speaking to you. Stop, stop! You should be ashamed!

Othello

Why, how now, ho! From whence ariseth this?Are we turn’d Turks, and to ourselves do thatWhich heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:He that stirs next to carve for his own rageHolds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isleFrom her propriety. What is the matter, masters?Honest Iago, that looks dead with grieving,Speak, who began this? On thy love, I charge thee.

What’s going on here? How did this start?
Have we become Turks, doing to ourselves what heaven prevented the Ottomans from doing to us?
As Christians, you should be ashamed. Stop this savage fight.
The next man who moves to draw blood out of anger cares little for his soul: the moment he moves, he dies.
Silence that dreadful bell. It’s frightening the whole island out of its senses. What’s the matter, gentlemen?
Honest Iago, you look half dead with grief.
Tell me who started this. In the name of your love for me, I order you to speak.

Iago

I do not know. Friends all but now, even now,In quarter, and in terms like bride and groomDevesting them for bed; and then, but now,As if some planet had unwitted men,Swords out, and tilting one at other’s breast,In opposition bloody. I cannot speakAny beginning to this peevish odds;And would in action glorious I had lostThose legs that brought me to a part of it!

I don’t know. Just a moment ago, this very moment, they were all friends, peacefully settled here, as affectionate as a bride and groom undressing for bed. Then, just now, as if some planet had driven them mad, they drew their swords and thrust at each other’s chests in a bloody fight. I can’t tell you how this senseless quarrel began. I wish I’d lost my legs in some glorious battle rather than have them bring me here to take part in it!

Othello

How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?

Michael, how did you come to forget yourself like this?

Cassio

I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.

Please forgive me. I cannot speak.

Othello

Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil.The gravity and stillness of your youthThe world hath noted, and your name is greatIn mouths of wisest censure: what’s the matter,That you unlace your reputation thus,And spend your rich opinion for the nameOf a night-brawler? Give me answer to it.

Honorable Montano, you’ve always behaved with restraint. The world has noticed your seriousness and calm even in your youth, and the wisest judges of character speak highly of you. What’s happened to make you throw away your reputation like this, trading the high regard you’ve earned for the name of a nighttime brawler? Give me an answer.

Montano

Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger.Your officer, Iago, can inform you,While I spare speech, which something now offends me,Of all that I do know; nor know I aughtBy me that’s said or done amiss this night,Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,And to defend ourselves it be a sinWhen violence assails us.

Honorable Othello, I’m dangerously wounded. Your officer Iago can tell you everything I know while I save my breath, since speaking hurts me now. I’m not aware of anything I’ve said or done wrong tonight, unless caring for yourself is sometimes a fault, and defending ourselves when we’re violently attacked is a sin.

Othello

Now, by heaven,My blood begins my safer guides to rule,And passion, having my best judgement collied,Assays to lead the way. Zounds, if I stir,Or do but lift this arm, the best of youShall sink in my rebuke. Give me to knowHow this foul rout began, who set it on,And he that is approv’d in this offence,Though he had twinn’d with me, both at a birth,Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,Yet wild, the people’s hearts brimful of fear,To manage private and domestic quarrel,In night, and on the court and guard of safety?’Tis monstrous. Iago, who began’t?

Now, I swear by heaven, my anger is beginning to overrule my reason. Passion has clouded my best judgment and is trying to take control. Damn it, if I move or so much as raise this arm, even the best of you will fall under my punishment. Tell me how this disgraceful uproar began and who started it. Whoever is proved guilty of this offense will lose my friendship, even if he were my own twin brother.
What! In a town at war, still unsettled, with everyone’s heart full of fear, you carry on a private quarrel at night, right in the guardhouse where you’re supposed to protect us? It’s monstrous. Iago, who started it?

Montano

If partially affin’d, or leagu’d in office,Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,Thou art no soldier.

If favoritism, friendship, or loyalty to a fellow officer makes you tell anything more or less than the truth, you’re no soldier.

Iago

Touch me not so near.I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouthThan it should do offence to Michael Cassio.Yet I persuade myself, to speak the truthShall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general:Montano and myself being in speech,There comes a fellow crying out for help,And Cassio following him with determin’d sword,To execute upon him. Sir, this gentlemanSteps in to Cassio and entreats his pause.Myself the crying fellow did pursue,Lest by his clamour (as it so fell out)The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,Outran my purpose: and I return’d the ratherFor that I heard the clink and fall of swords,And Cassio high in oath, which till tonightI ne’er might say before. When I came back,(For this was brief) I found them close together,At blow and thrust, even as again they wereWhen you yourself did part them.More of this matter cannot I report.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,Yet surely Cassio, I believe, receiv’dFrom him that fled some strange indignity,Which patience could not pass.

Don’t question my honor like that. I would rather have my tongue cut out than let it harm Michael Cassio. Still, I’m convinced that telling the truth will do him no wrong. This is what happened, general.
Montano and I were talking when a man came running, crying for help, with Cassio following him, sword drawn, determined to kill him. Sir, this gentleman stepped up to Cassio and begged him to stop. I chased the man who was shouting, afraid his cries would alarm the town—as they did. But he ran so fast that I couldn’t catch him. I was all the more eager to return because I heard swords clashing and Cassio swearing loudly, something I’d never heard him do before tonight. When I came back—it had only been a short time—I found them fighting at close range, striking and thrusting, just as they were again when you separated them yourself.
I can tell you nothing more about this affair. But men are only human; even the best sometimes lose control. Though Cassio did him some small wrong, just as angry men strike those who wish them well, I’m sure Cassio must have suffered some outrageous insult from the man who ran away, something no patient man could overlook.

Othello

I know, Iago,Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee,But never more be officer of mine.

I know, Iago, that your honesty and affection make you soften this account to spare Cassio. Cassio, I love you, but you will never again be an officer under me.

Desdemona

What’s the matter?

What’s the matter?

Othello

All’s well now, sweeting; come away to bed.Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon.Lead him off.

Everything’s all right now, sweetheart. Come back to bed.
Sir, I’ll personally see to the treatment of your wounds.
Take him away.

Iago

What, are you hurt, lieutenant?

Well, are you hurt, lieutenant?

Cassio

Ay, past all surgery.

Yes, beyond anything surgery can repair.

Iago

Marry, Heaven forbid!

Oh, heaven forbid!

Cassio

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!

Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I’ve lost my reputation! I’ve lost the part of me that lives forever, and what’s left is an animal. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!

Iago

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 to him again, and he’s yours.

As I’m an honest man, I thought you’d suffered some physical wound. That’s something more real than reputation. Reputation is a worthless, utterly misleading label, often gained without earning it and lost without deserving it. You haven’t lost any reputation unless you think of yourself as a man who has. Come on, man, there are ways to win the general back. He’s just dismissed you in a fit of anger, a punishment meant more to set an example than to hurt you. It’s like beating your innocent dog to frighten a proud lion. Appeal to him again, and you’ll win him over.

Cassio

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 one’s own shadow? O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!

I’d rather ask him to despise me than deceive so good a commander by giving him such an irresponsible, drunken, reckless officer. Drunk? Babbling like a parrot? Quarreling? Showing off? Swearing? Talking pompous nonsense to my own shadow? Oh, you invisible spirit of wine, if you have no name we can know you by, let’s call you the devil!

Iago

What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you?

Who was the man you chased with your sword? What had he done to you?

Cassio

I know not.

I don’t know.

Iago

Is’t possible?

Is that possible?

Cassio

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!

I remember a jumble of things, but nothing clearly. A quarrel, but nothing about why it started. Oh God, that men should put an enemy into their mouths to steal their brains away! That we should turn ourselves into animals with joy, pleasure, celebration, and cheers!

Iago

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

But you’re all right now. How did you sober up so quickly?

Cassio

It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath. One unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself.

The devil of drunkenness has chosen to give way to the devil of anger. One fault reveals another, making me thoroughly despise myself.

Iago

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.

Come on, you’re judging yourself too harshly. Considering the time, the place, and the state of this country, I sincerely wish this hadn’t happened. But since it has, put it right for your own sake.

Cassio

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 unbless’d, and the ingredient is a devil.

I’ll ask him for my position back, and he’ll call me a drunkard! Even if I had as many mouths as Hydra, that answer would silence them all. To be a sensible man one moment, a fool the next, and then an animal! Oh, how strange! Every drink beyond moderation is cursed, and what’s in it is a devil.

Iago

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.

Come, come, good wine is a good companion if it’s used properly. Stop speaking against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you know I care about you.

Cassio

I have well approved it, sir.—I drunk!

I’ve had good proof of it, sir. Me, drunk!

Iago

You, or any man living, may be drunk at a time, man. I’ll tell you what you shall do. Our general’s wife is now the general; I 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.

You or any other man alive can get drunk once in a while, man. I’ll tell you what to do. Our general’s wife is the general now. I can say that because he’s given himself over entirely to admiring, observing, and studying her qualities and charms. Tell her openly what you’ve done. Urge her to help you get your position back. She’s so generous, so kind, so ready to help, and so good by nature that she thinks it wrong not to do more than she’s asked. Ask her to put a splint on this broken bond between you and her husband. I’ll stake my whole fortune against any bet worth making that your damaged friendship will grow stronger than before.

Cassio

You advise me well.

You give me good advice.

Iago

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

I swear I offer it out of sincere affection and honest kindness.

Cassio

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 check me here.

I believe that completely. Early in the morning I’ll beg the virtuous Desdemona to speak for me. If my prospects are blocked here, I have no hope for my future.

Iago

You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant, I must to the watch.

You’re doing the right thing. Good night, lieutenant. I must go to the watch.

Cassio

Good night, honest Iago.

Good night, honest Iago.

Iago

And what’s he then, that says I play the villain?When this advice is free I give and honest,Probal to thinking, and indeed the courseTo win the Moor again? For ’tis most easyThe inclining Desdemona to subdueIn any honest suit. She’s fram’d as fruitfulAs the free elements. And then for herTo win the Moor, were’t to renounce his baptism,All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,His soul is so enfetter’d to her loveThat she may make, unmake, do what she list,Even as her appetite shall play the godWith his weak function. How am I then, a villainTo counsel Cassio to this parallel course,Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!When devils will the blackest sins put on,They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,As I do now: for whiles this honest foolPlies Desdemona to repair his fortune,And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,I’ll pour this pestilence into his ear,That she repeals him for her body’s lust;And by how much she strives to do him good,She shall undo her credit with the Moor.So will I turn her virtue into pitch,And out of her own goodness make the netThat shall enmesh them all.

Who can say I’m playing the villain, then? The advice I give is generous and honest, reasonable to anyone who thinks about it, and really the way to win the Moor’s favor again. It’s very easy to persuade the sympathetic Desdemona to support any fair request. Her nature is as generous as the elements that freely sustain us. And as for her persuading the Moor—even to give up his baptism and every sign and symbol of forgiveness for his sins—his soul is so bound to her love that she can make or break him and do whatever she likes. Her wishes rule his feeble will like a god. How am I a villain, then, for advising Cassio to take this path, which leads straight to his own good? This is hell’s theology! When devils want to encourage the darkest sins, they first tempt people with something that looks heavenly, just as I’m doing now. While this honest fool keeps asking Desdemona to restore his fortunes, and she pleads strongly for him with the Moor, I’ll pour this poison into his ear: that she wants Cassio reinstated because she lusts after him. The harder she tries to help him, the more she’ll destroy the Moor’s trust in her. That’s how I’ll turn her virtue into filthy tar, and make her own goodness the net that traps them all.

Roderigo

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 tonight 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.

I’m following this chase not like a hound that tracks the prey, but like one that just joins in the barking. My money is nearly gone, and I’ve had a terrible beating tonight. I think all I’ll get for my trouble is experience, and then I’ll go back to Venice with no money and a little more sense.

Iago

How poor are they that have not patience!What wound did ever heal but by degrees?Thou know’st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft,And wit depends on dilatory time.Does’t not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier’d 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.Nay, get thee gone.

How helpless people are without patience! What wound ever healed except little by little? You know we work through cleverness, not witchcraft, and cleverness needs time to work. Aren’t things going well? Cassio has beaten you, and in return for that small injury, you’ve gotten Cassio dismissed. Other things are ripening in the sunshine, but the fruit that blossoms first will ripen first. Be content for a while. By the Mass, it’s morning! Pleasure and activity make the hours seem short. Go back to your lodging. Go on, I tell you. You’ll learn more later. Come on, get going.