Othello, Act 3, Scene 4

Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?

Do you know, fellow, where Lieutenant Cassio is staying?

I dare not say he lies anywhere.

I dare not say he lies anywhere.

Why, man?

Why not, man?

He’s a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies is stabbing.

He's a soldier, and to say a soldier lies is to ask for a stabbing.

Go to. Where lodges he?

Enough of that. Where is he lodging?

To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie.

To tell you where he lodges would be to tell you a lie.

Can anything be made of this?

Can any sense be made of this?

I know not where he lodges; and for me to devise a lodging, and say he lies here, or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat.

I don't know where he lodges, and for me to invent a lodging for him, and say he lies here or he lies there, would be lying outright.

Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?

Can you ask around and find him out, and be instructed by what you're told?

I will catechize the world for him, that is, make questions and by them answer.

I'll question the whole world about him — that is, ask questions and get my answers from them.

Seek him, bid him come hither. Tell him I have moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well.

Find him, tell him to come here. Tell him I have urged my husband on his behalf, and I hope everything will turn out well.

To do this is within the compass of man’s wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.

Doing this is within the range of a man's intelligence, and so I will attempt to do it.

Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?

Where could I have lost that handkerchief, Emilia?

I know not, madam.

I don't know, madam.

Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of crusadoes. And but my noble Moor Is true of mind and made of no such baseness As jealous creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill thinking.

Believe me, I would rather have lost my purse full of gold coins. And if my noble Moor weren't honest in mind and free of the sort of meanness that jealous people have, this would be enough to set him thinking badly.

Is he not jealous?

Isn't he jealous?

Who, he? I think the sun where he was born Drew all such humours from him.

Who, him? I think the sun of the country where he was born drew all such moods out of him.

Look, where he comes.

Look, here he comes.

I will not leave him now till Cassio Be call’d to him. How is’t with you, my lord?

I won't leave him alone now until Cassio is summoned to him. How are you, my lord?

Well, my good lady. [Aside.] O, hardness to dissemble! How do you, Desdemona?

Well, my good lady. [Aside.] Oh, how hard it is to pretend! How are you, Desdemona?

Well, my good lord.

Well, my good lord.

Give me your hand. This hand is moist, my lady.

Give me your hand. This hand is damp, my lady.

It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.

It has felt no age yet and known no sorrow.

This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart. Hot, hot, and moist. This hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, Much castigation, exercise devout; For here’s a young and sweating devil here That commonly rebels. ’Tis a good hand, A frank one.

That's a sign of fertility and a generous, free-giving heart. Hot, hot, and damp. This hand of yours needs to be shut away from its freedom, needs fasting and prayer, plenty of punishment and devout religious exercise; because there's a young, sweating devil in here that rebels all the time. It's a good hand, a generous one.

You may indeed say so, For ’twas that hand that gave away my heart.

You may certainly say that, since it was that hand that gave away my heart.

A liberal hand. The hearts of old gave hands, But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

A generous hand. In the old days people gave their hearts along with their hands, but our new fashion is hands without hearts.

I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.

I can't talk about this. Come now, your promise.

What promise, chuck?

What promise, sweetheart?

I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.

I've sent for Cassio to come and speak with you.

I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me. Lend me thy handkerchief.

I have a nasty, streaming head cold that's troubling me. Lend me your handkerchief.

Here, my lord.

Here, my lord.

That which I gave you.

The one I gave you.

I have it not about me.

I don't have it with me.

Not?

No?

No, faith, my lord.

No, truly, my lord.

That is a fault. That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give. She was a charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, ’Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love. But if she lost it, Or made a gift of it, my father’s eye Should hold her loathed, and his spirits should hunt After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me, And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, To give it her. I did so; and take heed on’t, Make it a darling like your precious eye. To lose’t or give’t away were such perdition As nothing else could match.

That's a failing on your part. An Egyptian woman gave that handkerchief to my mother. She was a witch, and could almost read people's thoughts. She told my mother that as long as she kept it, it would make her lovable and bring my father completely under her power in love; but if she lost it or gave it away, my father's eye would look on her with disgust and his desires would go hunting after new attractions. She gave it to me as she was dying, and told me that when fate gave me a wife I should give it to her. I did so; so take good care of it. Treat it as dearly as your own precious eye. To lose it or give it away would be a ruin nothing else could equal.

Is’t possible?

Is that possible?

’Tis true. There’s magic in the web of it. A sibyl, that had number’d in the world The sun to course two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sew’d the work; The worms were hallow’d that did breed the silk, And it was dyed in mummy, which the skillful Conserv’d of maiden’s hearts.

It's true. There's magic woven into its fabric. A prophetess who had counted two hundred yearly circuits of the sun in this world sewed the embroidery in her prophetic frenzy. The worms that spun the silk were holy, and it was dyed in the fluid from embalmed bodies, which the experts preserved from the hearts of virgins.

Indeed? Is’t true?

Really? Is that true?

Most veritable, therefore look to ’t well.

Absolutely true, so look after it well.

Then would to God that I had never seen ’t!

Then I wish to God I had never seen it!

Ha? wherefore?

What? Why?

Why do you speak so startingly and rash?

Why do you speak so abruptly and violently?

Is’t lost? is’t gone? speak, is it out of the way?

Is it lost? Is it gone? Tell me, is it mislaid?

Heaven bless us!

Heaven bless us!

Say you?

What did you say?

It is not lost, but what and if it were?

It isn't lost — but what if it were?

How?

What?

I say it is not lost.

I say it isn't lost.

Fetch’t, let me see ’t.

Go get it, let me see it.

Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. This is a trick to put me from my suit. Pray you, let Cassio be receiv’d again.

Well, I could, sir, but I won't do it now. This is a trick to turn me away from what I'm asking. Please, let Cassio be taken back.

Fetch me the handkerchief! My mind misgives.

Bring me the handkerchief! I have a bad feeling about this.

Come, come. You’ll never meet a more sufficient man.

Come, come. You'll never find a more capable man.

The handkerchief!

The handkerchief!

I pray, talk me of Cassio.

Please, talk to me about Cassio.

The handkerchief!

The handkerchief!

A man that all his time Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shar’d dangers with you,—

A man who has all his life built his good fortune on your love, and shared dangers with you —

The handkerchief!

The handkerchief!

In sooth, you are to blame.

Truly, you are in the wrong.

Away!

Get away!

Is not this man jealous?

Isn't this man jealous?

I ne’er saw this before. Sure there’s some wonder in this handkerchief, I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

I never saw him like this before. There must be some magic in that handkerchief. I'm truly wretched to have lost it.

’Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us.

It takes more than a year or two to show us what a man is. They're nothing but stomachs, and we're nothing but food. They eat us greedily, and when they're full, they belch us up.

Look you, Cassio and my husband.

Look, Cassio and my husband.

There is no other way; ’tis she must do ’t, And, lo, the happiness! Go and importune her.

There's no other way; she's the one who must do it. And look, what luck! Go and press her about it.

How now, good Cassio, what’s the news with you?

Well, good Cassio, what news do you bring?

Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you That by your virtuous means I may again Exist, and be a member of his love, Whom I, with all the office of my heart, Entirely honour. I would not be delay’d. If my offence be of such mortal kind That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, Nor purpos’d merit in futurity, Can ransom me into his love again, But to know so must be my benefit; So shall I clothe me in a forc’d content, And shut myself up in some other course To fortune’s alms.

Madam, the same request as before: I beg you that through your good offices I may live again and be part of the love of the man whom I honour completely, with every service my heart can give. I don't want to be put off. If my offence is of such a deadly kind that neither my past service, nor my present grief, nor the good I mean to do in the future can buy me back into his love, then simply knowing that would be a benefit to me. Then I'll dress myself in a forced contentment and shut myself up in some other line of life, living on whatever fortune hands out.

Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio, My advocation is not now in tune; My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him Were he in favour as in humour alter’d. So help me every spirit sanctified, As I have spoken for you all my best, And stood within the blank of his displeasure For my free speech! You must awhile be patient. What I can do I will; and more I will Than for myself I dare. Let that suffice you.

Unfortunately, three times gentle Cassio, my pleading for you is out of tune just now. My husband is not himself; and I wouldn't recognise him if his face were as changed as his mood is. May every blessed spirit help me as surely as I have spoken for you as well as I could, and stood right in the target of his displeasure for speaking so freely. You must be patient for a while. What I can do I will do, and I'll do more than I would dare do for myself. Let that satisfy you.

Is my lord angry?

Is my lord angry?

He went hence but now, And certainly in strange unquietness.

He left here just now, and certainly in a strange state of agitation.

Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, When it hath blown his ranks into the air And, like the devil, from his very arm Puff’d his own brother, and can he be angry? Something of moment then. I will go meet him. There’s matter in’t indeed if he be angry.

Can he be angry? I've seen the cannon blow his ranks into the air, and, like the devil, snatch his own brother from beside his very arm — and can he be angry? Then it's something important. I'll go and find him. There's something serious in it indeed if he's angry.

I prithee do so.

Please do that.

Something sure of state, Either from Venice, or some unhatch’d practice Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit, and in such cases Men’s natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. ’Tis even so. For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful members even to that sense Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, I was (unhandsome warrior as I am) Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; But now I find I had suborn’d the witness, And he’s indicted falsely.

Surely some matter of government, either from Venice or some plot not yet hatched that has been revealed to him here in Cyprus, has muddied his clear mind. And in such cases men's tempers quarrel with small things, even though great ones are what is really troubling them. That's just how it is. For let our finger ache, and it spreads that same feeling of pain to the rest of our healthy body. No, we must remember that men are not gods, and not expect from them the kind of attentiveness that suits a wedding day. Shame on me, Emilia — clumsy soldier that I am, I was accusing him of unkindness in my heart; but now I find I had bribed the witness, and he is falsely charged.

Pray heaven it be state matters, as you think, And no conception nor no jealous toy Concerning you.

I pray to heaven it is affairs of state, as you think, and no idea or jealous fancy about you.

Alas the day, I never gave him cause!

Oh, what a day — I never gave him any reason!

But jealous souls will not be answer’d so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous: ’tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.

But jealous minds won't accept that answer. They aren't always jealous for a reason, but jealous because they're jealous. It's a monster that fathers itself and gives birth to itself.

Heaven keep that monster from Othello’s mind!

Heaven keep that monster out of Othello's mind!

Lady, amen.

Amen to that, my lady.

I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout: If I do find him fit, I’ll move your suit, And seek to effect it to my uttermost.

I'll go and look for him. Cassio, stay nearby. If I find him in the right mood, I'll put your request to him, and try my utmost to get it granted.

I humbly thank your ladyship.

I humbly thank your ladyship.

Save you, friend Cassio!

God save you, Cassio, my friend!

What make you from home? How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? I’ faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.

What are you doing away from home? How are you, my most beautiful Bianca? Honestly, sweetheart, I was on my way to your house.

And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. What, keep a week away? Seven days and nights? Eight score eight hours, and lovers’ absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning!

And I was going to your lodgings, Cassio. What, stay away a whole week? Seven days and nights? A hundred and sixty-eight hours — and hours spent apart from a lover are a hundred and sixty times more tedious than hours on a clock. Oh, what a wearisome count!

Pardon me, Bianca. I have this while with leaden thoughts been press’d, But I shall in a more continuate time Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,

Forgive me, Bianca. All this time I've been weighed down by heavy thoughts. But when I have a longer stretch of time I'll pay off this debt of absence. Sweet Bianca,

Take me this work out.

copy this embroidery for me.

O Cassio, whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend. To the felt absence now I feel a cause. Is’t come to this? Well, well.

Oh, Cassio, where did this come from? This is some gift from a newer sweetheart. Now I feel the reason for the absence I've felt. Has it come to this? Well, well.

Go to, woman! Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now That this is from some mistress, some remembrance. No, in good troth, Bianca.

Enough, woman! Throw your nasty suspicions back into the devil's teeth, since that's where you got them. Now you're jealous, thinking this is from some mistress, some keepsake. No, honestly, Bianca.

Why, whose is it?

Then whose is it?

I know not neither. I found it in my chamber. I like the work well. Ere it be demanded, As like enough it will, I’d have it copied. Take it, and do ’t, and leave me for this time.

I don't know either. I found it in my room. I like the embroidery very much. Before it's asked for, as it very likely will be, I'd like it copied. Take it and do it, and leave me alone for now.

Leave you, wherefore?

Leave you? Why?

I do attend here on the general, And think it no addition, nor my wish, To have him see me woman’d.

I'm waiting here for the general, and I don't think it would do me any credit, or that I'd want it, to have him see me with a woman.

Why, I pray you?

Why is that, please?

Not that I love you not.

It isn't that I don't love you.

But that you do not love me. I pray you bring me on the way a little, And say if I shall see you soon at night.

But that you don't love me. Please walk a little way with me, and tell me whether I'll see you tonight.

’Tis but a little way that I can bring you, For I attend here. But I’ll see you soon.

It's only a short way I can walk with you, because I'm waiting here. But I'll see you soon.

’Tis very good; I must be circumstanc’d.

That's fine; I have to put up with the circumstances.