PERSONS REPRESENTED:
DUKE OF VENICE.
BRABANTIO, a Senator.
Other Senators.
GRATIANO, Brother to Brabantio.
LODOVICO, Kinsman to Brabantio.
OTHELLO, a noble Moor, in the
service of Venice.
CASSIO, his Lieutenant.
IAGO, his Ancient.
RODERIGO, a Venetian Gentleman.
MONTANO, Othello's predecessor
in the government of Cyprus.
CLOWN, Servant to Othello.
Herald.
DESDEMONA, Daughter to Brabantio,
and Wife to Othello.
EMILIA, Wife to Iago.
BIANCA, Mistress to Cassio.
Officers, Gentlemen, Messenger,
Musicians, Herald, Sailor,
Attendants, &c.
SCENE: The First Act in Venice;
during the rest of the Play
at a
Seaport in Cyprus.
ACT I.
SCENE I. Venice. A street.
[Enter Roderigo and Iago.]
RODERIGO.
Tush, never tell me; I take it
much unkindly
That thou, Iago, who hast had
my purse
As if the strings were thine,
shouldst know of this,--
IAGO.
'Sblood, but you will not hear
me:--
If ever I did dream of such a
matter,
Abhor me.
RODERIGO.
Thou told'st me thou didst hold
him in thy hate.
IAGO.
Despise me, if I do not. Three
great ones of the city,
In personal suit to make me his
lieutenant,
Off-capp'd to him:--and, by the
faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no
worse a place:--
But he, as loving his own pride
and purposes,
Evades them, with a bumbast circumstance
Horribly stuff'd with epithets
of war:
And, in conclusion, nonsuits
My mediators: for, "Certes," says
he,
" I have already chose my officer."
And what was he?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damn'd in a fair
wife;
That never set a squadron in
the field,
Nor the division of a battle
knows
More than a spinster; unless
the bookish theoric,
Wherein the toged consuls can
propose
As masterly as he: mere prattle,
without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he,
sir, had the election:
And I,--of whom his eyes had
seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on
other grounds,
Christian and heathen,--must
be be-lee'd and calm'd
By debitor and creditor, this
counter-caster;
He, in good time, must his lieutenant
be,
And I--God bless the mark! his
Moorship's ancient.
RODERIGO.
By heaven, I rather would have
been his hangman.
IAGO.
Why, there's no remedy; 'tis
the curse of service,
Preferment goes by letter and
affection,
And not by old gradation, where
each second
Stood heir to the first. Now,
sir, be judge yourself
Whether I in any just term am
affin'd
To love the Moor.
RODERIGO.
I would not follow him, then.
IAGO.
O, sir, content you;
I follow him to serve my turn
upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor
all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You
shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking
knave
That, doting on his own obsequious
bondage,
Wears out his time, much like
his master's ass,
For nought but provender; and
when he's old, cashier'd:
Whip me such honest knaves. Others
there are
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages
of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending
on themselves;
And, throwing but shows of service
on their lords,
Do well thrive by them, and when
they have lin'd their coats,
Do themselves homage: these fellows
have some soul;
And such a one do I profess myself.
For, sir,
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not
be Iago:
In following him, I follow but
myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for
love and duty,
But seeming so for my peculiar
end:
For when my outward action doth
demonstrate
The native act and figure of
my heart
In complement extern, 'tis not
long after
But I will wear my heart upon
my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not
what I am.
RODERIGO.
What a full fortune does the
thick lips owe,
If he can carry't thus!
IAGO.
Call up her father,
Rouse him:--make after him, poison
his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets;
incense her kinsmen,
And, though he in a fertile climate
dwell,
Plague him with flies: though
that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such changes of vexation
on't
As it may lose some color.
RODERIGO.
Here is her father's house: I'll
call aloud.
IAGO.
Do; with like timorous accent
and dire yell
As when, by night and negligence,
the fire
Is spied in populous cities.
RODERIGO.
What, ho, Brabantio! Signior
Brabantio, ho!
IAGO.
Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves!
thieves! thieves!
Look to your house, your daughter,
and your bags!
Thieves! thieves!
[Brabantio appears above at
a window.]
BRABANTIO.
What is the reason of this terrible
summons?
What is the matter there?
RODERIGO.
Signior, is all your family within?
IAGO.
Are your doors locked?
BRABANTIO.
Why, wherefore ask you this?
IAGO.
Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for
shame, put on your gown;
Your heart is burst, you have
lost half your soul;
Even now, now, very now, an old
black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arise,
arise;
Awake the snorting citizens with
the bell,
Or else the devil will make a
grandsire of you:
Arise, I say.
BRABANTIO.
What, have you lost your wits?
RODERIGO.
Most reverend signior, do you
know my voice?
BRABANTIO.
Not I; what are you?
RODERIGO.
My name is Roderigo.
BRABANTIO.
The worser welcome:
I have charged thee not to haunt
about my doors;
In honest plainness thou hast
heard me say
My daughter is not for thee;
and now, in madness,
Being full of supper and distempering
draughts,
Upon malicious bravery dost thou
come
To start my quiet.
RODERIGO.
Sir, sir, sir,--
BRABANTIO.
But thou must needs be sure
My spirit and my place have in
them power
To make this bitter to thee.
RODERIGO.
Patience, good sir.
BRABANTIO.
What tell'st thou me of robbing?
this is Venice;
My house is not a grange.
RODERIGO.
Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come
to you.
IAGO.
Zounds, sir, you are one of those
that will not serve
God if the devil bid you. Because
we come to do you service, and
you think we are ruffians, you'll
have your daughter covered with
a Barbary horse; you'll have
your nephews neigh to you; you'll
have coursers for cousins and
gennets for germans.
BRABANTIO.
What profane wretch art thou?
IAGO.
I am one, sir, that comes to
tell you your daughter and
the
Moor are now making the beast
with two backs.
BRABANTIO.
Thou are a villain.
IAGO.
You are--a senator.
BRABANTIO.
This thou shalt answer; I know
thee, Roderigo.
RODERIGO.
Sir, I will answer anything.
But, I beseech you,
If't be your pleasure and most
wise consent,--
As partly I find it is,--that
your fair daughter,
At this odd-even and dull watch
o' the night,
Transported with no worse nor
better guard
But with a knave of common hire,
a gondolier,
To the gross clasps of a lascivious
Moor,--
If this be known to you, and
your allowance,
We then have done you bold and
saucy wrongs;
But if you know not this, my
manners tell me
We have your wrong rebuke. Do
not believe
That, from the sense of all civility,
I thus would play and trifle
with your reverence:
Your daughter,--if you have not
given her leave,--
I say again, hath made a gross
revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit,
and fortunes
In an extravagant and wheeling
stranger
Of here and everywhere. Straight
satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber or your
house
Let loose on me the justice of
the state
For thus deluding you.
BRABANTIO.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Give me a taper!--Call up all
my people!--
This accident is not unlike my
dream:
Belief of it oppresses me already.--
Light, I say! light!
[Exit from above.]
IAGO.
Farewell; for I must leave you:
It seems not meet nor wholesome
to my place
To be produc'd,--as if I stay
I shall,--
Against the Moor: for I do know
the state,--
However this may gall him with
some check,--
Cannot with safety cast him;
for he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the
Cyprus wars,--
Which even now stands in act,--that,
for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have
none
To lead their business: in which
regard,
Though I do hate him as I do
hell pains,
Yet, for necessity of present
life,
I must show out a flag and sign
of love,
Which is indeed but sign. That
you shall surely find him,
Lead to the Sagittary the raised
search;
And there will I be with him.
So, farewell.
[Exit.]
[Enter, below, Brabantio, and
Servants with torches.]
BRABANTIO.
It is too true an evil: gone
she is;
And what's to come of my despised
time
Is naught but bitterness.--Now,
Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her?--O
unhappy girl!--
With the Moor, say'st thou?--Who
would be a father!
How didst thou know 'twas she?--O,
she deceives me
Past thought.--What said she
to you?--Get more tapers;
Raise all my kindred.--Are they
married, think you?
RODERIGO.
Truly, I think they are.
BRABANTIO.
O heaven!--How got she out?--O
treason of the blood!--
Fathers, from hence trust not
your daughters' minds
By what you see them act.--Are
there not charms
By which the property of youth
and maidhood
May be abused? Have you not read,
Roderigo,
Of some such thing?
RODERIGO.
Yes, sir, I have indeed.
BRABANTIO.
Call up my brother.--O, would
you had had her!--
Some one way, some another.--Do
you know
Where we may apprehend her and
the Moor?
RODERIGO.
I think I can discover him, if
you please
To get good guard, and go along
with me.
BRABANTIO.
Pray you, lead on. At every house
I'll call;
I may command at most.--Get weapons,
ho!
And raise some special officers
of night.--
On, good Roderigo:--I'll deserve
your pains.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. Venice. Another street.
[Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants
with torches.]
IAGO.
Though in the trade of war I
have slain men,
Yet do I hold it very stuff o'
the conscience
To do no contriv'd murder: I
lack iniquity
Sometimes to do me service: nine
or ten times
I had thought to have yerk'd
him here under the ribs.
OTHELLO.
'Tis better as it is.
IAGO.
Nay, but he prated,
And spoke such scurvy and provoking
terms
Against your honor,
That, with the little godliness
I have,
I did full hard forbear him.
But, I pray you, sir,
Are you fast married? Be assured
of this,
That the magnifico is much beloved;
And hath, in his effect, a voice
potential
As double as the duke's: he will
divorce you;
Or put upon you what restraint
and grievance
The law,--with all his might
to enforce it on,--
Will give him cable.
OTHELLO.
Let him do his spite:
My services which I have done
the signiory
Shall out-tongue his complaints.
'Tis yet to know,--
Which, when I know that boasting
is an honor,
I shall promulgate,--I fetch
my life and being
From men of royal siege; and
my demerits
May speak unbonneted to as proud
a fortune
As this that I have reach'd:
for know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhoused free
condition
Put into circumscription and
confine
For the sea's worth. But, look!
what lights come yond?
IAGO.
Those are the raised father and
his friends:
You were best go in.
OTHELLO.
Not I; I must be found;
My parts, my title, and my perfect
soul
Shall manifest me rightly. Is
it they?
IAGO.
By Janus, I think no.
[Enter Cassio and certain Officers
with torches.]
OTHELLO.
The servants of the duke and
my lieutenant.--
The goodness of the night upon
you, friends!
What is the news?
CASSIO.
The duke does greet you, general;
And he requires your haste-post-haste
appearance
Even on the instant.
OTHELLO.
What is the matter, think you?
CASSIO.
Something from Cyprus, as I may
divine:
It is a business of some heat:
the galleys
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
This very night at one another's
heels;
And many of the consuls, rais'd
and met,
Are at the duke's already: you
have been hotly call'd for;
When, being not at your lodging
to be found,
The senate hath sent about three
several quests
To search you out.
OTHELLO.
'Tis well I am found by you.
I will but spend a word here
in the house,
And go with you.
[Exit.]
CASSIO.
Ancient, what makes he here?
IAGO.
Faith, he to-night hath boarded
a land carack:
If it prove lawful prize, he's
made forever.
CASSIO.
I do not understand.
IAGO.
He's married.
CASSIO.
To who?
[Re-enter Othello.]
IAGO.
Marry, to--Come, captain, will
you go?
OTHELLO.
Have with you.
CASSIO.
Here comes another troop to seek
for you.
IAGO.
It is Brabantio.--General, be
advis'd;
He comes to bad intent.
[Enter Brabantio, Roderigo,
and Officers with torches and
weapons.]
OTHELLO.
Holla! stand there!
RODERIGO.
Signior, it is the Moor.
BRABANTIO.
Down with him, thief!
[They draw on both sides.]
IAGO.
You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am
for you.
OTHELLO.
Keep up your bright swords, for
the dew will rust them.--
Good signior, you shall more
command with years
Than with your weapons.
BRABANTIO.
O thou foul thief, where hast
thou stow'd my daughter?
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast
enchanted her;
For I'll refer me to all things
of sense,
If she in chains of magic were
not bound,
Whether a maid so tender, fair,
and happy,
So opposite to marriage that
she shunn'd
The wealthy curled darlings of
our nation,
Would ever have, to incur a general
mock,
Run from her guardage to the
sooty bosom
Of such a thing as thou,--to
fear, not to delight.
Judge me the world, if 'tis not
gross in sense
That thou hast practis'd on her
with foul charms;
Abus'd her delicate youth with
drugs or minerals
That weaken motion:--I'll have't
disputed on;
'Tis probable, and palpable to
thinking.
I therefore apprehend and do
attach thee
For an abuser of the world, a
practiser
Of arts inhibited and out of
warrant.--
Lay hold upon him: if he do resist,
Subdue him at his peril.
OTHELLO.
Hold your hands,
Both you of my inclining and
the rest:
Were it my cue to fight, I should
have known it
Without a prompter.--Where will
you that I go
To answer this your charge?
BRABANTIO.
To prison; till fit time
Of law and course of direct session
Call thee to answer.
OTHELLO.
What if I do obey?
How may the duke be therewith
satisfied,
Whose messengers are here about
my side,
Upon some present business of
the state,
To bring me to him?
FIRST OFFICER.
'Tis true, most worthy signior;
The duke's in council, and your
noble self,
I am sure, is sent for.
BRABANTIO.
How! the duke in council!
In this time of the night!--Bring
him away:
Mine's not an idle cause: the
duke himself,
Or any of my brothers of the
state,
Cannot but feel this wrong as
'twere their own;
For if such actions may have
passage free,
Bond slaves and pagans shall
our statesmen be.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Venice. A council
chamber.
[The Duke and Senators sitting
at a table; Officers attending.]
DUKE.
There is no composition in these
news
That gives them credit.
FIRST SENATOR.
Indeed, they are disproportion'd;
My letters say a hundred and
seven galleys.
DUKE.
And mine a hundred and forty.
SECOND SENATOR.
And mine two hundred:
But though they jump not on a
just account,--
As in these cases, where the
aim reports,
'Tis oft with difference,--yet
do they all confirm
A Turkish fleet, and bearing
up to Cyprus.
DUKE.
Nay, it is possible enough to
judgement:
I do not so secure me in the
error,
But the main article I do approve
In fearful sense.
SAILOR.
[Within.] What, ho! what, ho!
what, ho!
FIRST OFFICER.
A messenger from the galleys.
[Enter a Sailor.]
DUKE.
Now,--what's the business?
SAILOR.
The Turkish preparation makes
for Rhodes;
So was I bid report here to the
state
By Signior Angelo.
DUKE.
How say you by this change?
FIRST SENATOR.
This cannot be,
By no assay of reason: 'tis a
pageant
To keep us in false gaze. When
we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the
Turk;
And let ourselves again but understand
That, as it more concerns the
Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question
bear it,
For that it stands not in such
warlike brace,
But altogether lacks the abilities
That Rhodes is dress'd in. If
we make thought of this,
We must not think the Turk is
so unskilful
To leave that latest which concerns
him first;
Neglecting an attempt of ease
and gain,
To wake and wage a danger profitless.
DUKE.
Nay, in all confidence, he's
not for Rhodes.
FIRST OFFICER.
Here is more news.
[Enter a Messenger.]
MESSENGER.
The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
Steering with due course toward
the isle of Rhodes,
Have there injointed them with
an after fleet.
FIRST SENATOR.
Ay, so I thought.--How many,
as you guess?
MESSENGER.
Of thirty sail: and now they
do re-stem
Their backward course, bearing
with frank appearance
Their purposes toward Cyprus.--Signior
Montano,
Your trusty and most valiant
servitor,
With his free duty recommends
you thus,
And prays you to believe him.
DUKE.
'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.--
Marcus Luccicos, is not he in
town?
FIRST SENATOR.
He's now in Florence.
DUKE.
Write from us to him; post-post-haste
despatch.
FIRST SENATOR.
Here comes Brabantio and the
valiant Moor.
[Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago,
Roderigo, and Officers.]
DUKE.
Valiant Othello, we must straight
employ you
Against the general enemy Ottoman.--
[To Brabantio.] I did not see
you; welcome, gentle signior;
We lack'd your counsel and your
help to-night.
BRABANTIO.
So did I yours. Good your grace,
pardon me;
Neither my place, nor aught I
heard of business
Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor
doth the general care
Take hold on me; for my particular
grief
Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing
nature
That it engluts and swallows
other sorrows,
And it is still itself.
DUKE.
Why, what's the matter?
BRABANTIO.
My daughter! O, my daughter!
DUKE and SENATORS.
Dead?
BRABANTIO.
Ay, to me;
She is abused, stol'n from me,
and corrupted
By spells and medicines bought
of mountebanks;
For nature so preposterously
to err,
Being not deficient, blind, or
lame of sense,
Sans witchcraft could not.
DUKE.
Whoe'er he be that, in this foul
proceeding,
Hath thus beguiled your daughter
of herself,
And you of her, the bloody book
of law
You shall yourself read in the
bitter letter
After your own sense; yea, though
our proper son
Stood in your action.
BRABANTIO.
Humbly I thank your grace.
Here is the man, this Moor; whom
now, it seems,
Your special mandate for the
state affairs
Hath hither brought.
DUKE and SENATORS.
We are very sorry for't.
DUKE.
[To Othello.] What, in your own
part, can you say to this?
BRABANTIO.
Nothing, but this is so.
OTHELLO.
Most potent, grave, and reverend
signiors,
My very noble and approv'd good
masters,--
That I have ta'en away this old
man's daughter,
It is most true; true, I have
married her:
The very head and front of my
offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude
am I in my speech,
And little bless'd with the soft
phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine
had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted,
they have us'd
Their dearest action in the tented
field;
And little of this great world
can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of
broil and battle;
And therefore little shall I
grace my cause
In speaking for myself. Yet,
by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale
deliver
Of my whole course of love: what
drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty
magic,--
For such proceeding I am charged
withal,--
I won his daughter.
BRABANTIO.
A maiden never bold:
Of spirit so still and quiet
that her motion
Blush'd at herself; and she,--in
spite of nature,
Of years, of country, credit,
everything,--
To fall in love with what she
fear'd to look on!
It is judgement maim'd and most
imperfect
That will confess perfection
so could err
Against all rules of nature;
and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning
hell,
Why this should be. I therefore
vouch again,
That with some mixtures powerful
o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjur'd to
this effect,
He wrought upon her.
DUKE.
To vouch this is no proof;
Without more wider and more overt
test
Than these thin habits and poor
likelihoods
Of modern seeming do prefer against
him.
FIRST SENATOR.
But, Othello, speak:
Did you by indirect and forced
courses
Subdue and poison this young
maid's affections?
Or came it by request, and such
fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?
OTHELLO.
I do beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
And let her speak of me before
her father.
If you do find me foul in her
report,
The trust, the office I do hold
of you,
Not only take away, but let your
sentence
Even fall upon my life.
DUKE.
Fetch Desdemona hither.
OTHELLO.
Ancient, conduct them; you best
know the place.--
[Exeunt Iago and Attendants.]
And, till she come, as truly
as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my
blood,
So justly to your grave ears
I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair
lady's love,
And she in mine.
DUKE.
Say it, Othello.
OTHELLO.
Her father lov'd me; oft invited
me;
Still question'd me the story
of my life,
From year to year,--the battles,
sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.
I ran it through, even from my
boyish days
To the very moment that he bade
me tell it:
Wherein I spake of most disastrous
chances,
Of moving accidents by flood
and field;
Of hair-breadth scapes i' the
imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent
foe,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption
thence,
And portance in my travels' history:
Wherein of antres vast and deserts
idle,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills
whose heads touch heaven,
It was my hint to speak,--such
was the process;
And of the Cannibals that each
other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose
heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders.
This to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
But still the house affairs would
draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with
haste despatch,
She'd come again, and with a
greedy ear
Devour up my discourse; which
I observing,
Took once a pliant hour; and
found good means
To draw from her a prayer of
earnest heart
That I would all my pilgrimage
dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something
heard,
But not intentively; I did consent;
And often did beguile her of
her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful
stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story
being done,
She gave me for my pains a world
of sighs:
She swore,--in faith, 'twas strange,
'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous
pitiful:
She wish'd she had not heard
it, yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such
a man: she thank'd me;
And bade me, if I had a friend
that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to
tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon
this hint I spake:
She lov'd me for the dangers
I had pass'd;
And I lov'd her that she did
pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I
have us'd:--
Here comes the lady; let her
witness it.
[Enter Desdemona, Iago, and
Attendants.]
DUKE.
I think this tale would win my
daughter too.--
Good Brabantio,
Take up this mangled matter at
the best.
Men do their broken weapons rather
use
Than their bare hands.
BRABANTIO.
I pray you, hear her speak:
If she confess that she was half
the wooer,
Destruction on my head, if my
bad blame
Light on the man!--Come hither,
gentle mistress:
Do you perceive in all this noble
company
Where most you owe obedience?
DESDEMONA.
My noble father,
I do perceive here a divided
duty:
To you I am bound for life and
education;
My life and education both do
learn me
How to respect you; you are the
lord of duty,--
I am hitherto your daughter:
but here's my husband;
And so much duty as my mother
show'd
To you, preferring you before
her father,
So much I challenge that I may
profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.
BRABANTIO.
God be with you!--I have done.--
Please it your grace, on to the
state affairs:
I had rather to adopt a child
than get it.--
Come hither, Moor:
I here do give thee that with
all my heart
Which, but thou hast already,
with all my heart
I would keep from thee.--For
your sake, jewel,
I am glad at soul I have no other
child;
For thy escape would teach me
tyranny,
To hang clogs on them.--I have
done, my lord.
DUKE.
Let me speak like yourself; and
lay a sentence
Which, as a grise or step, may
help these lovers
Into your favour.
When remedies are past, the griefs
are ended
By seeing the worst, which late
on hopes depended.
To mourn a mischief that is past
and gone
Is the next way to draw new mischief
on.
What cannot be preserved when
fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery
makes.
The robb'd that smiles steals
something from the thief;
He robs himself that spends a
bootless grief.
BRABANTIO.
So let the Turk of Cyprus us
beguile;
We lose it not so long as we
can smile;
He bears the sentence well, that
nothing bears
But the free comfort which from
thence he hears;
But he bears both the sentence
and the sorrow
That, to pay grief, must of poor
patience borrow.
These sentences, to sugar or
to gall,
Being strong on both sides, are
equivocal:
But words are words; I never
yet did hear
That the bruis'd heart was pierced
through the ear.--
I humbly beseech you, proceed
to the affairs of state.
DUKE.
The Turk with a most mighty preparation
makes for Cyprus.--
Othello, the fortitude of the
place is best known to you; and
though we have there a substitute
of most allowed sufficiency,
yet opinion, a sovereign mistress
of effects, throws a more safer
voice on you: you must therefore
be content to slubber the gloss
of your new fortunes with this
more stubborn and boisterous
expedition.
OTHELLO.
The tyrant custom, most grave
senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel
couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down:
I do agnize
A natural and prompt alacrity
I find in hardness; and do undertake
These present wars against the
Ottomites.
Most humbly, therefore, bending
to your state,
I crave fit disposition for my
wife;
Due reference of place and exhibition;
With such accommodation and besort
As levels with her breeding.
DUKE.
If you please,
Be't at her father's.
BRABANTIO.
I'll not have it so.
OTHELLO.
Nor I.
DESDEMONA.
Nor I. I would not there reside,
To put my father in impatient
thoughts,
By being in his eye. Most gracious
duke,
To my unfolding lend a gracious
ear;
And let me find a charter in
your voice
To assist my simpleness.
DUKE.
What would you, Desdemona?
DESDEMONA.
That I did love the Moor to live
with him,
My downright violence and storm
of fortunes
May trumpet to the world: my
heart's subdu'd
Even to the very quality of my
lord:
I saw Othello's visage in his
mind;
And to his honors and his valiant
parts
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
So that, dear lords, if I be
left behind,
A moth of peace, and he go to
the war,
The rites for which I love him
are bereft me,
And I a heavy interim shall support
By his dear absence. Let me go
with him.
OTHELLO.
Let her have your voices.
Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore
beg it not
To please the palate of my appetite;
Nor to comply with heat,--the
young affects
In me defunct,--and proper satisfaction;
But to be free and bounteous
to her mind:
And heaven defend your good souls,
that you think
I will your serious and great
business scant
For she is with me: no, when
light-wing'd toys
Of feather'd Cupid seel with
wanton dullness
My speculative and offic'd instruments,
That my disports corrupt and
taint my business,
Let housewives make a skillet
of my helm,
And all indign and base adversities
Make head against my estimation!
DUKE.
Be it as you shall privately
determine,
Either for her stay or going:
the affair cries haste,
And speed must answer it.
FIRST SENATOR.
You must away to-night.
OTHELLO.
With all my heart.
DUKE.
At nine i' the morning here we'll
meet again.--
Othello, leave some officer behind,
And he shall our commission bring
to you;
With such things else of quality
and respect
As doth import you.
OTHELLO.
So please your grace, my ancient,--
A man he is of honesty and trust,--
To his conveyance I assign my
wife,
With what else needful your good
grace shall think
To be sent after me.
DUKE.
Let it be so.--
Good night to everyone.--[To
Brabantio.] And, noble signior,
If virtue no delighted beauty
lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair
than black.
FIRST SENATOR.
Adieu, brave Moor; use Desdemona
well.
BRABANTIO.
Look to her, Moor, if thou hast
eyes to see:
She has deceiv'd her father,
and may thee.
[Exeunt Duke,
Senators, Officers. &c.]
OTHELLO.
My life upon her faith!--Honest
Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to
thee:
I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend
on her;
And bring them after in the best
advantage.--
Come, Desdemona, I have but an
hour
Of love, of worldly matters and
direction,
To spend with thee: we must obey
the time.
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.]
RODERIGO.
Iago,--
IAGO.
What say'st thou, noble heart?
RODERIGO.
What will I do, thinkest thou?
IAGO.
Why, go to bed and sleep.
RODERIGO.
I will incontinently drown myself.
IAGO.
If thou dost, I shall never love
thee after. Why, thou silly
gentleman!
RODERIGO.
It is silliness to live when
to live is torment; and
then have we a prescription to
die when death is our physician.
IAGO.
O villainous! I have looked upon
the world for four times seven
years, and since I could distinguish
betwixt a benefit and an
injury, I never found man that
knew how to love himself. Ere
I
would say I would drown myself
for the love of a Guinea-hen,
I
would change my humanity with
a baboon.
RODERIGO.
What should I do? I confess it
is my shame to be so fond,
but it is not in my virtue to
amend it.
IAGO.
Virtue! a fig! 'Tis in ourselves
that we are thus or thus.
Our bodies are gardens, to the
which our wills are gardeners;
so that if we will plant nettles
or sow lettuce, set hyssop and
weed up thyme, supply it with
one gender of herbs or distract
it
with many, either to have it
sterile with idleness or manured
with industry; why, the power
and corrigible authority of this
lies in our wills. If the balance
of our lives had not one scale
of reason to poise another of
sensuality, the blood and baseness
of our natures would conduct
us to most preposterous conclusions:
But we have reason to cool our
raging motions, our carnal stings,
our unbitted lusts; whereof I
take this, that you call love,
to
be a sect or scion.
RODERIGO.
It cannot be.
IAGO.
It is merely a lust of the blood
and a permission of the will.
Come, be a man: drown thyself!
drown cats and blind puppies.
I
have professed me thy friend,
and I confess me knit to
thy deserving with cables of
perdurable toughness; I could
never better stead thee than
now. Put money in thy purse;
follow
thou the wars; defeat thy favour
with an usurped beard; I say,
put money in thy purse. It cannot
be that Desdemona should long
continue her love to the Moor,--put
money in thy purse,--nor he
his to her: it was a violent
commencement, and thou shalt
see an
answerable sequestration;--put
but money in thy purse.--These
Moors are changeable in their
wills:--fill thy purse with money:
the food that to him now is as
luscious as locusts shall be
to
him shortly as acerb as the coloquintida.
She must change for
youth: when she is sated with
his body, she will find the error
of her choice: she must have
change, she must: therefore put
money in thy purse.--If thou
wilt needs damn thyself, do it
a
more delicate way than drowning.
Make all the money thou canst;
if sanctimony and a frail vow
betwixt an erring barbarian and
a
supersubtle Venetian be not too
hard for my wits and all the
tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy
her; therefore make money. A
pox
of drowning thyself! it is clean
out of the way: seek thou rather
to be hanged in compassing thy
joy than to be drowned and go
without her.
RODERIGO.
Wilt thou be fast to my hopes,
if I depend on the issue?
IAGO.
Thou art sure of me:--go, make
money:--I have told thee
often, and I re-tell thee again
and again, I hate the Moor: my
cause is hearted; thine hath
no less reason. Let us be
conjunctive in our revenge against
him: if thou canst cuckold
him, thou dost thyself a pleasure,
me a sport. There are many
events in the womb of time which
will be delivered. Traverse;
go;
provide thy money. We will have
more of this to-morrow. Adieu.
RODERIGO.
Where shall we meet i' the morning?
IAGO.
At my lodging.
RODERIGO.
I'll be with thee betimes.
IAGO.
Go to; farewell. Do you hear,
Roderigo?
RODERIGO.
What say you?
IAGO.
No more of drowning, do you hear?
RODERIGO.
I am changed: I'll go sell all
my land.
[Exit.]
IAGO.
Thus do I ever make my fool my
purse;
For I mine own gain'd knowledge
should profane
If I would time expend with such
a snipe
But for my sport and profit.
I hate the Moor;
And it is thought abroad that
'twixt my sheets
He has done my office: I know
not if't be true;
But I, for mere suspicion in
that kind,
Will do as if for surety. He
holds me well,
The better shall my purpose work
on him.
Cassio's a proper man: let me
see now;
To get his place, and to plume
up my will
In double knavery,--How, how?--Let's
see:--
After some time, to abuse Othello's
ear
That he is too familiar with
his wife:--
He hath a person, and a smooth
dispose,
To be suspected; fram'd to make
women false.
The Moor is of a free and open
nature,
That thinks men honest that but
seem to be so;
And will as tenderly be led by
the nose
As asses are.
I have't;--it is engender'd:--hell
and night
Must bring this monstrous birth
to the world's light.
[Exit.]
More on William
Shakespeare:
Biography
of William Shakespeare |