Cyprus. Another Room in the Castle.
 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	Madame, 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 th'instant; I will be returned forthwith. 
	Dismiss your attendant there. Look't 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.
	And hath commanded me to go to bed,
	And bid 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 checks, his frowns-
	Prithee unpin me - have grace and favour.

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, prithee shroud me
	In one of these same sheets.

Emilia									Come, come, you talk.

Desdemona	My mother had a maid called Barbary:
	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 expressed her fortune,
	And she died singing it. That song tonight
	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 Barbary. Prithee dispatch.

Emilia	Shall I go fetch your nightgown?

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	[Sings.]
	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 murmured her moans,
		Sing willow, willow, willow.
	Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the stones,
		Sing willow-

	Lay by these:-
						willow, willow.-

	Prithee hie thee; he'll come anon.-

	[Sings.]
	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	[Sings.]
	I called my love false love, but what said he then?
		Sing willow, willow, willow;
	If I court more women, you'll couch with more men.

	So get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch-
	Does 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 it as 
	well i'th' 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 all the whole world? 
	Ud's pity, 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'th' 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 th' 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. God me such uses send,
	Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!
												[Exeunt.
