Act IV. Scene III

SCENE III. 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
Madam, 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 the instant; I will be returned
forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it 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:
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 Barbara:
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 Barbara. 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