Act Four scene three

 

My mother had a maid call'd Barbary

 

Emelia, Desdemona

 

EMILIA                 How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.

 

DESDEMONA      He says he will return incontinent:
He hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade 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 cheques, his frowns--
Prithee, unpin me,--have grace and favour in them.

 

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 thee prithee, shroud me
In one of those same sheets.

 

EMILIA                 Come, come you talk.

 

DESDEMONA      My mother had a maid call'd 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 express'd her fortune,
And she died singing it: that song to-night
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 night-gown?

 

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      [Singing] 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 murmur'd her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
Lay by these:--

                              [Singing]

Sing willow, willow, willow;
Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:--

                              [Singing]

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      [Singing] I call'd my love false love; but what
said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:
If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men!
So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do itch;
Doth 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't as well i' the 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 gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty
exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would
not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch?

 

DESDEMONA      Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
For the whole world.

                              I do not think there is any such woman.

 

EMILIA                 Yes, a dozen; and as many to the 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: heaven me such uses send,
Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!

 

                              [Exeunt]