William Shakespeare: Othello, Moor of Venice

ACT III. 4. SCENE IV. Cyprus. Before the Castle. (continued)

DESDEMONA.
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.

IAGO.
Is my lord angry?

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

IAGO.
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.

DESDEMONA.
I pr'ythee, do so.

[Exit Iago.]

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.

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

DESDEMONA.
Alas the day, I never gave him cause!

EMILIA.
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.