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And now for KickAss Shakespeare's presentation of
T H E T R A G E D I E O F
Othello, the Moore of Venice
Act I. Scene I. Venice. A street.
Enter Roderigo and Iago
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.
The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Rodorigo, and Iago.
That thou (Iago) who hast had my purse,
As if y strings were thine, should'st know of this
'Sblood, but you will not hear me:
If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.
Of such a matter, abhorre me
Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate.
Thou did'st hold him in thy hate
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,10
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
But he; as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast 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,20
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 practise,
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'd30
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.
If I do not. Three Great-ones of the Cittie,
(In personall suite to make me his Lieutenant)
Off-capt to him: and by the faith of man
I know my price, I am worth no worsse a place.
But he (as louing his owne pride, and purposes)
Euades them, with a bumbast Circumstance,
Horribly stufft with Epithites of warre,
Non-suites my Mediators. For certes, saies he,
I haue already chose my Officer. And what was he?
For-sooth, a great Arithmatician,
One Michaell Cassio, a Florentine,
(A Fellow almost damn'd in a faire Wife)
That neuer set a Squadron in the Field,
Nor the deuision of a Battaile knowes
More then a Spinster. Vnlesse the Bookish Theoricke:
Wherein the Tongued Consuls can propose
As Masterly as he. Meere pratle (without practise)
Is all his Souldiership. But he (Sir) had th' election;
And I (of whom his eies had seene the proofe
At Rhodes, at Ciprus, and on others grounds
Christen'd, and Heathen) must be be-leed, and calm'd
By Debitor, and Creditor. This Counter-caster,
He (in good time) must his Lieutenant be,
And I (blesse the marke) his Mooreships Auntient
By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.
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 affined
To love the Moor.
'Tis the cursse of Seruice;
Preferment goes by Letter, and affection,
And not by old gradation, where each second
Stood Heire to'th' first. Now Sir, be iudge your selfe,
Whether I in any iust terme am Affin'd
To loue the Moore?
I would not follow him then.
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 are50
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 lined
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;60
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 compliment 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.
I follow him, to serue my turne vpon him.
We cannot all be Masters, nor all Masters
Cannot be truely follow'd. You shall marke
Many a dutious and knee-crooking knaue;
That (doting on his owne obsequious bondage)
Weares out his time, much like his Masters Asse,
For naught but Prouender, & when he's old Casheer'd.
Whip me such honest knaues. Others there are
Who trym'd in Formes, and visages of Dutie,
Keepe yet their hearts attending on themselues,
And throwing but showes of Seruice on their Lords
Doe well thriue by them.
And when they haue lin'd their Coates
Doe themselues Homage.
These Fellowes haue some soule,
And such a one do I professe my selfe. For (Sir)
It is as sure as you are Rodorigo,
Were I the Moore, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but my selfe.
Heauen is my Iudge, not I for loue and dutie,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward Action doth demonstrate
The natiue act, and figure of my heart
In Complement externe, 'tis not long after
But I will weare my heart vpon my sleeue
For Dawes to pecke at; I am not what I am
What a full fortune does the thicklips owe
If he can carry't thus!
If he can carry't thus?
Call up her father,70
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 colour.
Rowse him, make after him, poyson his delight,
Proclaime him in the Streets. Incense her kinsmen,
And though he in a fertile Clymate dwell,
Plague him with Flies: though that his Ioy be Ioy,
Yet throw such chances of vexation on't,
As it may loose some colour
Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.
Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell
As when, by night and negligence, the fire
Is spied in populous cities.
As when (by Night and Negligence) the Fire
Is spied in populus Citties
What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!
Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves!
Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!
Brabantio appears above, at a window
Looke to your house, your daughter, and your Bags,
What is the reason of this terrible summons?
What is the matter there?
Summons? What is the matter there?
Signior, is all your family within?
Are your doors lock'd?
Why, wherefore ask you this?
'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on90
Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
Is topping 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.
Your heart is burst, you haue lost halfe your soule
Euen now, now, very now, an old blacke Ram
Is tupping your white Ewe. Arise, arise,
Awake the snorting Cittizens with the Bell,
Or else the deuill will make a Grand-sire of you.
Arise I say
What, have you lost your wits?
Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?
Not I what are you?
My name is Roderigo.
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.
I haue charg'd thee not to haunt about my doores:
In honest plainenesse thou hast heard me say,
My Daughter is not for thee. And now in madnesse
(Being full of Supper, and distempring draughtes)
Vpon malitious knauerie, dost thou come
To start my quiet
Sir, sir, sir,--
But thou must needs be sure110
My spirit and my place have in them power
To make this bitter to thee.
My spirits and my place haue in their power
To make this bitter to thee
Patience, good sir.
What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;
My house is not a grange.
This is Venice: my house is not a Grange
Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you.
In simple and pure soule, I come to you
'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'll120
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.
if the deuill bid you. Because we come to do you seruice,
and you thinke we are Ruffians, you'le haue your Daughter
couer'd with a Barbary horse, you'le haue your Nephewes
neigh to you, you'le haue Coursers for Cozens:
and Gennets for Germaines
What profane wretch art thou?
I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter
and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.
and the Moore, are making the Beast with two backs
Thou art a villain.
You are--a senator.
This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.
Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you,130
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 believe140
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 every where. 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.
If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent,
(As partly I find it is) that your faire Daughter,
At this odde Euen and dull watch o'th' night
Transported with no worse nor better guard,
But with a knaue of common hire, a Gundelier,
To the grosse claspes of a Lasciuious Moore:
If this be knowne to you, and your Allowance,
We then haue done you bold, and saucie wrongs.
But if you know not this, my Manners tell me,
We haue your wrong rebuke. Do not beleeue
That from the sence of all Ciuilitie,
I thus would play and trifle with your Reuerence.
Your Daughter (if you haue not giuen her leaue)
I say againe, hath made a grosse reuolt,
Tying her Dutie, Beautie, Wit, and Fortunes
In an extrauagant, and wheeling Stranger,
Of here, and euery where: straight satisfie your selfe.
If she be in her Chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the Iustice of the State
For thus deluding you
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!
Giue me a Taper: call vp all my people,
This Accident is not vnlike my dreame,
Beleefe of it oppresses me alreadie.
Light, I say, light.
Farewell; for I must leave you:
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall--
Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state,
However this may gall him with some cheque,160
Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
Which even now stand 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;170
And there will I be with him. So, farewell.
It seemes not meete, nor wholesome to my place
To be producted, (as if I stay, I shall,)
Against the Moore. For I do know the State,
(How euer this may gall him with some checke)
Cannot with safetie cast-him. For he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus Warres,
(Which euen now stands in Act) that for their soules
Another of his Fadome, they haue none,
To lead their Businesse. In which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell paines,
Yet, for necessitie of present life,
I must show out a Flag, and signe of Loue,
(Which is indeed but signe) that you shal surely find him
Lead to the Sagitary the raised Search:
And there will I be with him. So farewell.
Enter, below, Brabantio, and Servants with torches
It is too true an evil: gone she is;
And what's to come of my despised time
Is nought 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?
Enter Brabantio, with Seruants and Torches.
And what's to come of my despised time,
Is naught but bitternesse. Now Rodorigo,
Where didst thou see her? (Oh vnhappie Girle)
With the Moore saist thou? (Who would be a Father?)
How didst thou know 'twas she? (Oh she deceaues me
Past thought:) what said she to you? Get moe Tapers.
Raise all my Kindred. Are they married thinke you?
Truly, I think they are.
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. Is there not charms
By which the property of youth and maidhood
May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing?
Oh treason of the blood.
Fathers, from hence trust not your Daughters minds
By what you see them act. Is there not Charmes,
By which the propertie of Youth, and Maidhood
May be abus'd? Haue you not read Rodorigo,
Of some such thing?
Yes, sir, I have indeed.
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?
Some one way, some another. Doe you know
Where we may apprehend her, and the Moore?
I think I can discover him, if you please,
To get good guard and go along with me.
To get good Guard, and go along with me
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.
(I may command at most) get Weapons (hoa)
And raise some speciall Officers of might:
On good Rodorigo, I will deserue your paines.
Act I. Scene II. Another street.
Enter Othello, Iago, and attendants with torches
Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience
To do no contrived 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.
Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches.
Yet do I hold it very stuffe o'th' conscience
To do no contriu'd Murder: I lacke Iniquitie
Sometime to do me seruice. Nine, or ten times
I had thought t'haue yerk'd him here vnder the Ribbes
'Tis better as it is.
Nay, but he prated,
And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
Against your honour10
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.
And spoke such scuruy, and prouoking termes
Against your Honor, that with the little godlinesse I haue
I did full hard forbeare him. But I pray you Sir,
Are you fast married? Be assur'd of this,
That the Magnifico is much belou'd,
And hath in his effect a voice potentiall
As double as the Dukes: He will diuorce you.
Or put vpon you, what restraint or greeuance,
The Law (with all his might, to enforce it on)
Will giue him Cable
Let him do his spite:20
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 honour,
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 confine30
For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yond?
My Seruices, which I haue done the Signorie
Shall out-tongue his Complaints. 'Tis yet to know,
Which when I know, that boasting is an Honour,
I shall promulgate. I fetch my life and being,
From Men of Royall Seige. And my demerites
May speake (vnbonnetted) to as proud a Fortune
As this that I haue reach'd. For know Iago,
But that I loue the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my vnhoused free condition
Put into Circumscription, and Confine,
For the Seas worth. But looke, what Lights come yond?
Those are the raised father and his friends:
You were best go in.
Enter Cassio, with Torches.
You were best go in
Not I I must be found:
My parts, my title and my perfect soul
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
My Parts, my Title, and my perfect Soule
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
By Janus, I think no.
Enter Cassio, and certain Officers with torches
The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant.
The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
What is the news?
And my Lieutenant?
The goodnesse of the Night vpon you (Friends)
What is the Newes?
The duke does greet you, general,
And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,
Even on the instant.
And he requires your haste, Post-haste appearance,
Euen on the instant
What is the matter, think you?
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, raised and met,
Are at the duke's already: you have been50
hotly call'd for;
When, being not at your lodging to be found,
The senate hath sent about three several guests
To search you out.
It is a businesse of some heate. The Gallies
Haue sent a dozen sequent Messengers
This very night, at one anothers heeles:
And many of the Consuls, rais'd and met,
Are at the Dukes already. You haue bin hotly call'd for,
When being not at your Lodging to be found,
The Senate hath sent about three seuerall Quests,
To search you out
'Tis well I am found by you.
I will but spend a word here in the house,
And go with you.
I will but spend a word here in the house,
And goe with you
Ancient, what makes he here?
'Faith, he toight hath boarded a land carack:
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.
If it proue lawfull prize, he's made for euer
I do not understand.
Marry, to--Come, captain, will you go?
Have with you.
Here comes another troop to seek for you.
Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers with torches and weapons
It is Brabantio. General, be advised;
He comes to bad intent.
Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, with Officers, and Torches.
He comes to bad intent
Holla! stand there!
Signior, it is the Moor.
Down with him, thief!
They draw on both sides
You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you.
Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
Good signior, you shall more command with years
Than with your weapons.
rust them. Good Signior, you shall more command with
yeares, then with your Weapons
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,80
So opposite to marriage that she shunned
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 practised on her with foul charms,
Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
That weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on;
'Tis probable and palpable to thinking.90
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.
Where hast thou stow'd my Daughter?
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchaunted her
For Ile referre me to all things of sense,
(If she in Chaines of Magick were not bound)
Whether a Maid, so tender, Faire, and Happie,
So opposite to Marriage, that she shun'd
The wealthy curled Deareling of our Nation,
Would euer haue (t' encurre a generall mocke)
Run from her Guardage to the sootie bosome,
Of such a thing as thou: to feare, not to delight?
Iudge me the world, if 'tis not grosse in sense,
That thou hast practis'd on her with foule Charmes,
Abus'd her delicate Youth, with Drugs or Minerals,
That weakens Motion. Ile haue'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 vpon him, if he do resist
Subdue him, at his perill
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?
Both you of my inclining, and the rest.
Were it my Cue to fight, I should haue knowne it
Without a Prompter. Whether will you that I goe
To answere this your charge?
To prison, till fit time
Of law and course of direct session
Call thee to answer.
Of Law, and course of direct Session
Call thee to answer
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?
How may the Duke be therewith satisfi'd,
Whose Messengers are heere about my side,
Vpon some present businesse of the State,
To bring me to him
'Tis true, most worthy signior;
The duke's in council and your noble self,110
I am sure, is sent for.
The Dukes in Counsell, and your Noble selfe,
I am sure is sent for
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.
In this time of the night? Bring him away;
Mine's not an idle Cause. The Duke himselfe,
Or any of my Brothers of the State,
Cannot but feele this wrong, as 'twere their owne:
For if such Actions may haue passage free,
Bond-slaues, and Pagans shall our Statesmen be.
Act I. Scene III. A council-chamber.
The Duke and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending
There is no composition in these news
That gives them credit.
Enter Duke, Senators, and Officers.
That giues them Credite
Indeed, they are disproportion'd;
My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.
My Letters say, a Hundred and seuen Gallies
And mine, a hundred and forty.
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 confirm10
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
But though they iumpe not on a iust accompt,
(As in these Cases where the ayme reports,
'Tis oft with difference) yet do they all confirme
A Turkish Fleete, and bearing vp to Cyprus
Nay, it is possible enough to judgment:
I do not so secure me in the error,
But the main article I do approve
In fearful sense.
I do not so secure me in the Error,
But the maine Article I do approue
In fearefull sense
[Within] What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!
A messenger from the galleys.
Enter a Sailor
Now, what's the business?
The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
So was I bid report here to the state20
By Signior Angelo.
So was I bid report here to the State,
By Signior Angelo
How say you by this change?
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,30
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.
By no assay of reason. 'Tis a Pageant
To keepe vs in false gaze, when we consider
Th' importancie of Cyprus to the Turke;
And let our selues againe but vnderstand,
That as it more concernes the Turke then Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question beare it,
For that it stands not in such Warrelike brace,
But altogether lackes th' abilities
That Rhodes is dress'd in. If we make thought of this,
We must not thinke the Turke is so vnskillfull,
To leaue that latest, which concernes him first,
Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gaine
To wake, and wage a danger profitlesse
Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
Here is more news.
Enter a Messenger
The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes,40
Have there injointed them with an after fleet.
Enter a Messenger.
Steering with due course toward the Ile of Rhodes,
Haue there inioynted them with an after Fleete
Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?
Of thirty sail: and now they do restem
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.
Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
Your trustie and most Valiant Seruitour,
With his free dutie, recommends you thus,
And prayes you to beleeue him
'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.
Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?
Marcus Luccicos is not he in Towne?
He's now in Florence.
Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch.
To him, Post, Post-haste, dispatch
Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers
Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
Against the general enemy Ottoman.
I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Rodorigo, and Officers.
Against the generall Enemy Ottoman.
I did not see you: welcome gentle Signior,
We lack't your Counsaile, and your helpe to night
So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me;
Neither my place nor aught I heard of business
Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care60
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.
Neither my place, nor ought I heard of businesse
Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the generall care
Take hold on me. For my perticular griefe
Is of so flood-gate, and ore-bearing Nature,
That it engluts, and swallowes other sorrowes,
And it is still it selfe
Why, what's the matter?
My daughter! O, my daughter!
Ay, to me;
She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;70
For nature so preposterously to err,
Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
Sans witchcraft could not.
She is abus'd, stolne from me, and corrupted
By Spels, and Medicines, bought of Mountebanks;
For Nature, so prepostrously to erre,
(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,)
Sans witch-craft could not
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.
Hath thus beguil'd your Daughter of her selfe,
And you of her; the bloodie Booke of Law,
You shall your selfe read, in the bitter letter,
After your owne sense: yea, though our proper Son
Stood in your Action
Humbly I thank your grace.80
Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,
Your special mandate for the state-affairs
Hath hither brought.
Here is the man; this Moore, whom now it seemes
Your speciall Mandate, for the State affaires
Hath hither brought
We are very sorry for't.
What, in your own part, can you say to this?
Nothing, but this is so.
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approved good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her:90
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 used
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,100
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.
My very Noble, and approu'd good Masters;
That I haue tane away this old mans Daughter,
It is most true: true I haue married her;
The verie 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 Armes of mine, had seuen yeares pith,
Till now, some nine Moones wasted, they haue vs'd
Their deerest action, in the Tented Field:
And little of this great world can I speake,
More then pertaines to Feats of Broiles, and Battaile,
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking for my selfe. Yet, (by your gratious patience)
I will a round vn-varnish'd Tale deliuer,
Of my whole course of Loue.
What Drugges, what Charmes,
What Coniuration, and what mighty Magicke,
(For such proceeding I am charg'd withall)
I won his Daughter
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, every thing,
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on!110
It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect
That will confess perfection so could err
Against all rules of nature, and must be driven
To find out practises of cunning hell,
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
He wrought upon her.
Of Spirit so still, and quiet, that her Motion
Blush'd at her selfe, and she, in spight of Nature,
Of Yeares, of Country, Credite, euery thing
To fall in Loue, with what she fear'd to looke on;
It is a iudgement main'd, and most imperfect.
That will confesse Perfection so could erre
Against all rules of Nature, and must be driuen
To find out practises of cunning hell
Why this should be. I therefore vouch againe,
That with some Mixtures, powrefull o're the blood,
Or with some Dram, (coniur'd to this effect)
He wrought vpon her.
To vouch this, is no proof,
Without more wider and more overt test120
Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming do prefer against him.
Without more wider, and more ouer Test
Then these thin habits, and poore likely-hoods
Of moderne seeming, do prefer against him
[First Quarto] Quarto 1 takes these lines from the bottom of the speech above and gives them to the Duke as they are shown here. The First Folio leaves these lines at the end of the speech immediately above.
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?
Did you, by indirect, and forced courses
Subdue, and poyson this yong Maides affections?
Or came it by request, and such faire question
As soule, to soule affordeth?
I do beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
And let her speak of me before her father:130
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.
Send for the Lady to the Sagitary,
And let her speake of me before her Father;
If you do finde me foule, in her report,
The Trust, the Office, I do hold of you,
Not onely take away, but let your Sentence
Euen fall vpon my life
Fetch Desdemona hither.
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,140
And she in mine.
You best know the place.
And tell she come, as truely as to heauen,
I do confesse the vices of my blood,
So iustly to your Graue eares, Ile present
How I did thriue in this faire Ladies loue,
And she in mine
Say it, Othello.
Her father loved me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have passed.
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 field150
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 hear160
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'ld 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,170
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 loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story.180
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used:
Here comes the lady; let her witness it.
Still question'd me the Storie of my life,
From yeare to yeare: the Battaile, Sieges, Fortune,
That I haue past.
I ran it through, euen from my boyish daies,
Toth' very moment that he bad me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances:
Of mouing Accidents by Flood and Field,
Of haire-breadth scapes i'th' imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the Insolent Foe,
And sold to slauery. Of my redemption thence,
And portance in my Trauellours historie.
Wherein of Antars vast, and Desarts idle,
Rough Quarries, Rocks, Hills, whose head touch heauen,
It was my hint to speake. Such was my Processe,
And of the Canibals that each others eate,
The Antropophague, and men whose heads
Grew beneath their shoulders. These things to heare,
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
But still the house Affaires would draw her hence:
Which euer as she could with haste dispatch,
She'l'd come againe, and with a greedie eare
Deuoure vp my discourse. Which I obseruing,
Tooke once a pliant houre, and found good meanes
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 instinctiuely: I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her teares,
When I did speake of some distressefull stroke
That my youth suffer'd: My Storie being done,
She gaue me for my paines a world of kisses:
She swore in faith 'twas strange: 'twas passing strange,
'Twas pittifull: 'twas wondrous pittifull.
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That Heauen had made her such a man. She thank'd me,
And bad me, if I had a Friend that lou'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my Story,
And that would wooe her. Vpon this hint I spake,
She lou'd me for the dangers I had past,
And I lou'd her, that she did pitty them.
This onely is the witch-craft I haue vs'd.
Here comes the Ladie: Let her witnesse it.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, and attendants
I think this tale would win my daughter too.
Take up this mangled matter at the best:
Men do their broken weapons rather use
Than their bare hands.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Attendants.
Good Brabantio, take vp this mangled matter at the best:
Men do their broken Weapons rather vse,
Then their bare hands
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?
If she confesse that she was halfe the wooer,
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
Light on the man. Come hither gentle Mistris,
Do you perceiue in all this Noble Companie,
Where most you owe obedience?
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 me200
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.
I do perceiue heere a diuided dutie.
To you I am bound for life, and education:
My life and education both do learne me,
How to respect you. You are the Lord of duty,
I am hitherto your Daughter. But heere's my Husband;
And so much dutie, as my Mother shew'd
To you, preferring you before her Father:
So much I challenge, that I may professe
Due to the Moore my Lord
God be wi' 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:210
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.
Please it your Grace, on to the State Affaires;
I had rather to adopt a Child, then get it.
Come hither Moore;
I here do giue thee that with all my heart,
Which but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keepe from thee. For your sake (Iewell)
I am glad at soule, I haue no other Child,
For thy escape would teach me Tirranie
To hang clogges on them. I haue done my Lord
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 ended220
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.
And lay a Sentence,
Which as a grise, or step may helpe these Louers.
When remedies are past, the griefes are ended
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
To mourne a Mischeefe that is past and gon,
Is the next way to draw new mischiefe on.
What cannot be preseru'd, when Fortune takes:
Patience, her Iniury a mock'ry makes.
The rob'd that smiles, steales something from the Thiefe,
He robs himselfe, that spends a bootelesse griefe
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 bears230
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 bruised heart was pierced through the ear.
I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.
We loose it not so long as we can smile:
He beares the Sentence well, that nothing beares,
But the free comfort which from thence he heares.
But he beares both the Sentence, and the sorrow,
That to pay griefe, must of poore Patience borrow.
These Sentences, to Sugar, or to Gall,
Being strong on both sides, are Equiuocall.
But words are words, I neuer yet did heare:
That the bruized heart was pierc'd through the eares.
I humbly beseech you proceed to th' Affaires of State
The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for
Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best240
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.
makes for Cyprus: Othello, the Fortitude of the place is
best knowne to you. And though we haue there a Substitute
of most allowed sufficiencie; yet opinion, a more
soueraigne Mistris of Effects, throwes a more safer
voice on you: you must therefore be content to slubber
the glosse of your new Fortunes, with this more stubborne,
and boystrous expedition
The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnise
A natural and prompt alacrity250
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.
Hath made the flinty and Steele Coach of Warre
My thrice-driuen bed of Downe. I do agnize
A Naturall and prompt Alacratie,
I finde in hardnesse: and do vndertake
This present Warres against the Ottamites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your State,
I craue fit disposition for my Wife,
Due reference of Place, and Exhibition,
With such Accomodation and besort
As leuels with her breeding
If you please,
Be't at her father's.
I'll not have it so.
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 your prosperous ear;
And let me find a charter in your voice,
To assist my simpleness.
To put my Father in impatient thoughts
By being in his eye. Most Gracious Duke,
To my vnfolding, lend your prosperous eare,
And let me finde a Charter in your voice
T' assist my simplenesse
What would You, Desdemona?
That I did love the Moor to live with him,
My downright violence and storm of fortunes270
May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued
Even to the very quality of my lord:
I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
And to his honour 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.
My downe-right violence, and storme of Fortunes,
May trumpet to the world. My heart's subdu'd
Euen to the very quality of my Lord;
I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
And to his Honours and his valiant parts,
Did I my soule and Fortunes consecrate.
So that (deere Lords) if I be left behind
A Moth of Peace, and he go to the Warre,
The Rites for why I loue him, are bereft me:
And I a heauie interim shall support
By his deere absence. Let me go with him
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 seal with wanton dullness290
My speculative and officed 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!
Vouch with me Heauen, I therefore beg it not
To please the pallate of my Appetite:
Nor to comply with heat the yong affects
In my defunct, and proper satisfaction.
But to be free, and bounteous to her minde:
And Heauen defend your good soules, that you thinke
I will your serious and great businesse scant
When she is with me. No, when light wing'd Toyes
Of feather'd Cupid, seele with wanton dulnesse
My speculatiue, and offic'd Instrument:
That my Disports corrupt, and taint my businesse:
Let House-wiues make a Skillet of my Helme,
And all indigne, and base aduersities,
Make head against my Estimation
Be it as you shall privately determine,
Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste,
And speed must answer it.
Either for her stay, or going: th' Affaire cries hast:
And speed must answer it
You must away toight.
With all my heart.
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, leaue some Officer behind
And he shall our Commission bring to you:
And such things else of qualitie and respect
As doth import you
So please your grace, my ancient;
A man he is of honest and trust:
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good grace shall think
To be sent after me.
A man he is of honesty and trust:
To his conueyance I assigne my wife,
With what else needfull, your good Grace shall think
To be sent after me
Let it be so.
Good night to every one.
And, noble signior,
If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
Good night to euery one. And Noble Signior,
If Vertue no delighted Beautie lacke,
Your Son-in-law is farre more Faire then Blacke
Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.
Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:
She has deceived her father, and may thee.
Exeunt Duke of Venice, Senators, Officers, & c
She ha's deceiu'd her Father, and may thee.
My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee:320
I prithee, 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
My Desdemona must I leaue to thee:
I prythee let thy wife attend on her,
And bring them after in the best aduantage.
Come Desdemona, I haue but an houre
Of Loue, of wordly matter, and direction
To spend with thee. We must obey the time.
What say'st thou, noble heart?
What will I do, thinkest thou?
Why, go to bed, and sleep.
I will incontinently drown myself.
If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why,
thou silly gentleman!
thou silly Gentleman?
It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and
then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
and then haue we a prescription to dye, when death is
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.
for foure times seuen yeares, and since I could distinguish
betwixt a Benefit, and an Iniurie: I neuer found man that
knew how to loue himselfe. Ere I would say, I would
drowne my selfe for the loue of a Gynney Hen, I would
change my Humanity with a Baboone
What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so
fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
to be so fond, but it is not in my vertue to amend it
Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus
or thus. Our bodies are our 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 our350
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.
thus, or thus. Our Bodies are our Gardens, to the which,
our Wills are Gardiners. So that if we will plant Nettels,
or sowe Lettice: Set Hisope, and weede vp Time:
Supplie it with one gender of Hearbes, or distract it with
many: either to haue it sterrill with idlenesse, or manured
with Industry, why the power, and Corrigeable authoritie
of this lies in our Wills. If the braine of our liues
had not one Scale of Reason, to poize another of Sensualitie,
the blood, and basenesse of our Natures would
conduct vs to most prepostrous Conclusions. But we
haue Reason to coole our raging Motions, our carnall
Stings, or vnbitted Lusts: whereof I take this, that you
call Loue, to be a Sect, or Seyen
It cannot be.
It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of
the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown360
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 but370
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 bitter as 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 betwixt380
an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian 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.
of the will. Come, be a man: drowne thy selfe? Drown
Cats, and blind Puppies. I haue profest me thy Friend,
and I confesse me knit to thy deseruing, with Cables of
perdurable toughnesse. I could neuer better steed thee
then now. Put Money in thy purse: follow thou the
Warres, defeate thy fauour, with an vsurp'd Beard. I say
put Money in thy purse. It cannot be long that Desdemona
should continue her loue to the Moore. Put Money in
thy purse: nor he his to her. It was a violent Commencement
in her, and thou shalt see an answerable Sequestration,
put but Money in thy purse. These Moores
are changeable in their wils: fill thy purse with Money.
The Food that to him now is as lushious as Locusts,
shalbe to him shortly, as bitter as Coloquintida. She
must change for youth: when she is sated with his body
she will find the errors of her choice. Therefore, put Money
in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damne thy selfe, do
it a more delicate way then drowning. Make all the Money
thou canst: If Sanctimonie, and a fraile vow, betwixt
an erring Barbarian, and super-subtle Venetian be
not too hard for my wits, and all the Tribe of hell, thou
shalt enioy her: therefore make Money: a pox of drowning
thy selfe, it is cleane out of the way. Seeke thou rather
to be hang'd in Compassing thy ioy, then to be
drown'd, and go without her
Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on
Thou art sure of me:--go, make money:--I have told
thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I390
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.
told thee often, and I re-tell thee againe, and againe, I
hate the Moore. My cause is hearted; thine hath no lesse
reason. Let vs be coniunctiue in our reuenge, against
him. If thou canst Cuckold him, thou dost thy selfe a
pleasure, me a sport. There are many Euents in the
Wombe of Time, which wilbe deliuered. Trauerse, go,
prouide thy Money. We will haue more of this to morrow.
Where shall we meet i' the morning?
At my lodging.
I'll be with thee betimes.
Go to. farewell: --do you hear, Roderigo?
What say you?
No more of drowning, do you hear?
I am changed: I'll go sell all my land.
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;410
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, framed to make women false.420
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.
For I mine owne gain'd knowledge should prophane
If I would time expend with such Snipe,
But for my Sport, and Profit: I hate the Moore,
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
She ha's done my Office. I know not if't be true,
But I, for meere suspition in that kinde,
Will do, as if for Surety. He holds me well,
The better shall my purpose worke on him:
Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now,
To get his Place, and to plume vp my will
In double Knauery. How? How? Let's see.
After some time, to abuse Othello's eares,
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 Moore is of a free, and open Nature,
That thinkes men honest, that but seeme to be so,
And will as tenderly be lead by'th' Nose
As Asses are:
I hau't: it is engendred: Hell, and Night,
Must bring this monstrous Birth, to the worlds light.
Act II. Scene I. Rome. Brutus's orchard.
Enter Montano and two Gentlemen
What from the cape can you discern at sea?
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Montano, and two Gentlemen.
Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood;
I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main,
Descry a sail.
I cannot 'twixt the Heauen, and the Maine,
Descry a Saile
Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:
If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?
A fuller blast ne're shooke our Battlements:
If it hath ruffiand so vpon the Sea,
What ribbes of Oake, when Mountaines melt on them,
Can hold the Morties. What shall we heare of this?
A segregation of the Turkish fleet:
For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds;
The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,
seems to cast water on the burning bear,
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
I never did like molestation view
On the enchafed flood.
For do but stand vpon the Foaming Shore,
The chidden Billow seemes to pelt the Clowds,
The winde-shak'd-Surge, with high & monstrous Maine
Seemes to cast water on the burning Beare,
And quench the Guards of th' euer-fixed Pole:
I neuer did like mollestation view
On the enchafed Flood
If that the Turkish fleet
Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd:20
It is impossible they bear it out.
Be not enshelter'd, and embay'd, they are drown'd,
It is impossible to beare it out.
Enter a third Gentleman
News, lads! our wars are done.
The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,
That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice
Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance
On most part of their fleet.
Enter a Gentleman.
The desperate Tempest hath so bang'd the Turkes,
That their designement halts. A Noble ship of Venice,
Hath seene a greeuous wracke and sufferance
On most part of their Fleet
How! is this true?
The ship is here put in,
A Veronesa; Michael Cassio,
Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,30
Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
Lieutenant to the warlike Moore, Othello,
Is come on Shore: the Moore himselfe at Sea,
And is in full Commission heere for Cyprus
I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.
'Tis a worthy Gouernour
But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort
Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,
And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.
Touching the Turkish losse, yet he lookes sadly,
And praye the Moore be safe; for they were parted
With fowle and violent Tempest
Pray heavens he be;
For I have served him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!40
As well to see the vessel that's come in
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and the aerial blue
An indistinct regard.
For I haue seru'd him, and the man commands
Like a full Soldier. Let's to the Sea-side (hoa)
As well to see the Vessell that's come in,
As to throw-out our eyes for braue Othello,
Euen till we make the Maine, and th' Eriall blew,
An indistinct regard
Come, let's do so:
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
For euery Minute is expectancie
Of more Arriuancie.
Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,
That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens
Give him defence against the elements,50
For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea.
That so approoue the Moore: Oh let the Heauens
Giue him defence against the Elements,
For I haue lost him on a dangerous Sea
Is he well shipp'd?
His bark is stoutly timber'd, his pilot
Of very expert and approved allowance;
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.
A cry within 'A sail, a sail, a sail!'
Of verie expert, and approu'd Allowance;
Therefore my hope's (not surfetted to death)
Stand in bold Cure
Within. A Saile, a Saile, a Saile
Enter a fourth Gentleman
The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry 'A sail!'
Stand rankes of People and they cry, a Saile
My hopes do shape him for the governor.
They do discharge their shot of courtesy:
Our friends at least.
Our Friends, at least
I pray you, sir, go forth,
And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.
And giue vs truth who 'tis that is arriu'd
But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?
Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid
That paragons description and wild fame;
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
And in the essential vesture of creation70
Does tire the ingener.
Enter second Gentleman
How now! who has put in?
That paragons description, and wilde Fame:
One that excels the quirkes of Blazoning pens,
And in th' essentiall Vesture of Creation,
Do's tyre the Ingeniuer.
How now? Who ha's put in?
'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.
Has had most favourable and happy speed:
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands--
Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,--
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.
Tempests themselues, high Seas, and howling windes,
The gutter'd-Rockes, and Congregated Sands,
Traitors ensteep'd, to enclogge the guiltlesse Keele,
As hauing sence of Beautie, do omit
Their mortall Natures, letting go safely by
The Diuine Desdemona
What is she?
She that I spake of, our great captain's captain,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits
And bring all Cyprus comfort!
Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Roderigo, and attendants
The riches of the ship is come on shore!
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round!
Our great Captains Captaine,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
Whose footing heere anticipates our thoughts,
A Senights speed. Great Ioue, Othello guard,
And swell his Saile with thine owne powrefull breath,
That he may blesse this Bay with his tall Ship,
Make loues quicke pants in Desdemonaes Armes,
Giue renew'd fire to our extincted Spirits.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Aemilia.
The Riches of the Ship is come on shore:
You men of Cyprus, let her haue your knees.
Haile to thee Ladie: and the grace of Heauen,
Before, behinde thee, and on euery hand
Enwheele thee round
I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me of my lord?
What tydings can you tell of my Lord?
He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught
But that he's well and will be shortly here.
But that he's well, and will be shortly heere
O, but I fear--How lost you company?
How lost you company?
The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail.
Within 'A sail, a sail!' Guns heard
Parted our fellowship. But hearke, a Saile
Within. A Saile, a Saile
They give their greeting to the citadel;
This likewise is a friend.
This likewise is a Friend
See for the news.
Good ancient, you are welcome.
Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding110
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.
Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome Mistris:
Let it not gaule your patience (good Iago)
That I extend my Manners. 'Tis my breeding,
That giues me this bold shew of Curtesie
Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'll have enough.
As of her tongue she oft bestowes on me,
You would haue enough
Alas, she has no speech.
In faith, too much;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep:
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.
I finde it still, when I haue leaue to sleepe.
Marry before your Ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking
You have little cause to say so.
Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,
Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
Saints m your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives' in your beds.
doore: Bells in your Parlours: Wilde-Cats in your Kitchens:
Saints in your Iniuries: Diuels being offended:
Players in your Huswiferie, and Huswiues in your
O, fie upon thee, slanderer!
Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk:
You rise to play and go to bed to work.
You rise to play, and go to bed to worke.
You shall not write my praise.
No, let me not.
What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst
O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
For I am nothing, if not critical.
For I am nothing, if not Criticall
Come on assay. There's one gone to the harbour?
There's one gone to the Harbour?
I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
Come, how would'st thou praise me?
I am about it; but indeed my invention140
Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize;
It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours,
And thus she is deliver'd.
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth it.
from my pate, as Birdlyme do's from Freeze, it pluckes
out Braines and all. But my Muse labours, and thus she
If she be faire, and wise: fairenesse, and wit,
The ones for vse, the other vseth it
Well praised! How if she be black and witty?
How if she be Blacke and Witty?
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.
She'le find a white, that shall her blacknesse fit
Worse and worse.
How if fair and foolish?
She never yet was foolish that was fair;
For even her folly help'd her to an heir.
For euen her folly helpt her to an heire
These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i'
the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for
her that's foul and foolish?
laugh i'th' Alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou
for her that's Foule, and Foolish
There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
But do's foule pranks, which faire, and wise-ones do
O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best.
But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving
woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her160
merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?
best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a deseruing
woman indeed? One, that in the authorithy of her
merit, did iustly put on the vouch of very malice it
She that was ever fair and never proud,
Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay,
Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,'
She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,
She that in wisdom never was so frail
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind,170
See suitors following and not look behind,
She was a wight, if ever such wight were,--
Had Tongue at will, and yet was neuer loud:
Neuer lackt Gold, and yet went neuer gay,
Fled from her wish, and yet said now I may.
She that being angred, her reuenge being nie,
Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure flie:
She that in wisedome neuer was so fraile,
To change the Cods-head for the Salmons taile:
She that could thinke, and neu'r disclose her mind,
See Suitors following, and not looke behind:
She was a wight, (if euer such wightes were)
To do what?
To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn
of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say
you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal
not learne of him aemillia, though he be thy husband.
How say you (Cassio) is he not a most prophane, and liberall
He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in
the soldier than in the scholar.
him more in the Souldier, then in the Scholler
[Aside] He takes her by the palm: ay, well said,
whisper: with as little a web as this will I
ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon
her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.
You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as
these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had
been better you had not kissed your three fingers so
oft, which now again you are most apt to play the
sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent
courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers190
to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!
The Moor! I know his trumpet.
With as little a web as this, will I ensnare as great
a Fly as Cassio. I smile vpon her, do: I will giue thee
in thine owne Courtship. You say true, 'tis so indeed.
If such tricks as these strip you out of your Lieutenantrie,
it had beene better you had not kiss'd your three fingers
so oft, which now againe you are most apt to play
the Sir, in. Very good: well kiss'd, and excellent Curtsie:
'tis so indeed. Yet againe, your fingers to your
lippes? Would they were Cluster-pipes for your
The Moore I know his Trumpet
'Tis truly so.
Let's meet him and receive him.
Lo, where he comes!
Enter Othello and attendants
O my fair warrior!
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
My dear Othello!
It gives me wonder great as my content
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,200
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus-high and duck again as low
As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
To see you heere before me.
Oh my Soules Ioy:
If after euery Tempest, come such Calmes,
May the windes blow, till they haue waken'd death:
And let the labouring Barke climbe hills of Seas
Olympus high: and duck againe as low,
As hell's from Heauen. If it were now to dye,
'Twere now to be most happy. For I feare,
My Soule hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this,
Succeedes in vnknowne Fate
The heavens forbid
But that our loves and comforts should increase,210
Even as our days do grow!
But that our Loues
And Comforts should encrease
Euen as our dayes do grow
Amen to that, sweet powers!
I cannot speak enough of this content;
It stops me here; it is too much of joy:
And this, and this, the greatest discords be
That e'er our hearts shall make!
I cannot speake enough of this content,
It stoppes me heere: it is too much of ioy.
And this, and this the greatest discords be
That ere our hearts shall make
[Aside] O, you are well tuned now!
But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.
the peggs that make this Musicke, as honest as I am
Come, let us to the castle.220
News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks
How does my old acquaintance of this isle?
Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;
I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago,
Go to the bay and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou the master to the citadel;
He is a good one, and his worthiness230
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more, well met at Cyprus.
Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and attendants
Newes (Friends) our Warres are done:
The Turkes are drown'd.
How do's my old Acquaintance of this Isle?
(Hony) you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus,
I haue found great loue among'st them. Oh my Sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I doate
In mine owne comforts. I prythee, good Iago,
Go to the Bay, and disimbarke my Coffers:
Bring thou the Master to the Cittadell,
He is a good one, and his worthynesse
Do's challenge much respect. Come Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.
Exit Othello and Desdemona.
Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come
hither. If thou be'st valiant,-- as, they say, base
men being in love have then a nobility in their
natures more than is native to them--list me. The
lieutenant tonight watches on the court of
guard:--first, I must tell thee this--Desdemona is
directly in love with him.
Come thither, if thou be'st Valiant, (as they say base men
being in Loue, haue then a Nobilitie in their Natures,
more then is natiue to them) list-me; the Lieutenant to
night watches on the Court of Guard. First, I must tell
thee this: Desdemona, is directly in loue with him
With him! why, 'tis not possible.
Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor,
but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies:
and will she love him still for prating? let not
thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed;
and what delight shall she have to look on the
devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of
sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to
give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour,
sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which250
the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these
required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will
find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge,
disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will
instruct her in it and compel her to some second
choice. Now, sir, this granted,--as it is a most
pregnant and unforced position--who stands so
eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio
does? a knave very voluble; no further
conscionable than in putting on the mere form of260
civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing
of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why,
none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a
finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and
counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never
present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the
knave is handsome, young, and hath all those
requisites in him that folly and green minds look
after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman
hath found him already.
Marke me with what violence she first lou'd
the Moore, but for bragging, and telling her fantasticall
lies. To loue him still for prating, let not thy discreet
heart thinke it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight
shall she haue to looke on the diuell? When the Blood
is made dull with the Act of Sport, there should be a
game to enflame it, and to giue Satiety a fresh appetite.
Louelinesse in fauour, simpathy in yeares, Manners,
and Beauties: all which the Moore is defectiue in. Now
for want of these requir'd Conueniences, her delicate
tendernesse wil finde it selfe abus'd, begin to heaue the,
gorge, disrellish and abhorre the Moore, very Nature wil
instruct her in it, and compell her to some second choice.
Now Sir, this granted (as it is a most pregnant and vnforc'd
position) who stands so eminent in the degree of
this Fortune, as Cassio do's: a knaue very voluble: no
further conscionable, then in putting on the meere forme
of Ciuill, and Humaine seeming, for the better compasse
of his salt, and most hidden loose Affection? Why none,
why none: A slipper, and subtle knaue, a finder of occasion:
that he's an eye can stampe, and counterfeit Aduantages,
though true Aduantage neuer present it selfe.
A diuelish knaue: besides, the knaue is handsome, young:
and hath all those requisites in him, that folly and greene
mindes looke after. A pestilent compleat knaue, and the
woman hath found him already
I cannot believe that in her; she's full of
most blessed condition.
Blessed fig's-end! the wine she drinks is made of
grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never
have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou
not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst
not mark that?
made of grapes. If shee had beene bless'd, shee would
neuer haue lou'd the Moore: Bless'd pudding. Didst thou
not see her paddle with the palme of his hand? Didst not
Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.
Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue
to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met280
so near with their lips that their breaths embraced
together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these
mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes
the master and main exercise, the incorporate
conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I
have brought you from Venice. Watch you toight;
for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows
you not. I'll not be far from you: do you find
some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking
too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what290
other course you please, which the time shall more
prologue to the History of Lust and foule Thoughts.
They met so neere with their lippes, that their breathes
embrac'd together. Villanous thoughts Rodorigo, when
these mutabilities so marshall the way, hard at hand
comes the Master, and maine exercise, th' incorporate
conclusion: Pish. But Sir, be you rul'd by me. I haue
brought you from Venice. Watch you to night: for
the Command, Ile lay't vpon you. Cassio knowes you
not: Ile not be farre from you. Do you finde some occasion
to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or
tainting his discipline, or from what other course
you please, which the time shall more fauorably minister
Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply
may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for
even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to
mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true
taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So
shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by
the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the300
impediment most profitably removed, without the
which there were no expectation of our prosperity.
happely may strike at you, prouoke him that he may: for
euen out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to Mutiny.
Whose qualification shall come into no true taste againe,
but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you
haue a shorter iourney to your desires, by the meanes I
shall then haue to preferre them. And the impediment
most profitably remoued, without the which there were
no expectation of our prosperitie
I will do this, if I can bring it to any
I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel:
I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.
Cittadell. I must fetch his Necessaries a Shore. Farewell
That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit:
The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,310
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,
And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona
A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;
Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
I stand accountant for as great a sin,
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
And nothing can or shall content my soul320
Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife,
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb--
For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too--
Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.330
For making him egregiously an ass
And practising upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused:
Knavery's plain face is never seen tin used.
That she loues him, 'tis apt, and of great Credite.
The Moore (howbeit that I endure him not)
Is of a constant, louing, Noble Nature,
And I dare thinke, he'le proue to Desdemona
A most deere husband. Now I do loue her too,
Not out of absolute Lust, (though peraduenture
I stand accomptant for as great a sin)
But partely led to dyet my Reuenge,
For that I do suspect the lustie Moore
Hath leap'd into my Seate. The thought whereof,
Doth (like a poysonous Minerall) gnaw my Inwardes:
And nothing can, or shall content my Soule
Till I am eeuen'd with him, wife, for wife.
Or fayling so, yet that I put the Moore,
At least into a Ielouzie so strong
That iudgement cannot cure. Which thing to do,
If this poore Trash of Venice, whom I trace
For his quicke hunting, stand the putting on,
Ile haue our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moore, in the right garbe
(For I feare Cassio with my Night-Cape too)
Make the Moore thanke me, loue me, and reward me,
For making him egregiously an Asse,
And practising vpon his peace, and quiet,
Euen to madnesse. 'Tis heere: but yet confus'd,
Knaueries plaine face, is neuer seene, till vs'd.
Act II. Scene II. A street.
Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People following
It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant
general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived,
importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet,
every man put himself into triumph; some to dance,
some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and
revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these
beneficial news, it is the celebration of his
nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be
proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full10
liberty of feasting from this present hour of five
till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the
isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!
Enter Othello's Herald with a Proclamation.
Generall. That vpon certaine tydings now arriu'd,
importing the meere perdition of the Turkish Fleete:
euery man put himselfe into Triumph. Some to daunce,
some to make Bonfires, each man, to what Sport and
Reuels his addition leads him. For besides these beneficiall
Newes, it is the Celebration of his Nuptiall. So
much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices
are open, & there is full libertie of Feasting from this
present houre of fiue, till the Bell haue told eleuen.
Blesse the Isle of Cyprus, and our Noble Generall Othello.
Act II. Scene III. A hall in the castle.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and attendants
Good Michael, look you to the guard toight:
Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
Not to outsport discretion.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.
Let's teach our selues that Honourable stop,
Not to out-sport discretion
Iago hath direction what to do;
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
Will I look to't.
But notwithstanding with my personall eye
Will I looke to't
Iago is most honest.
Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest
Let me have speech with you.
Come, my dear love,
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and attendants
Michael, goodnight. To morrow with your earliest,
Let me haue speech with you. Come my deere Loue,
The purchase made, the fruites are to ensue,
That profit's yet to come 'tweene me, and you.
Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.
Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the
clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love
of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame:
he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and
she is sport for Jove.
o'th' clocke. Our Generall cast vs thus earely for the
loue of his Desdemona: Who, let vs not therefore blame;
he hath not yet made wanton the night with her: and
she is sport for Ioue
She's a most exquisite lady.
And, I'll warrant her, fun of game.
Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.
What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of
Me thinkes it sounds a parley to prouocation
An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.
And yet me thinkes right modest
And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
Is it not an Alarum to Loue?
She is indeed perfection.
Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I
have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace30
of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to
the health of black Othello.
I haue a stope of Wine, and heere without are a
brace of Cyprus Gallants, that would faine haue a measure
to the health of blacke Othello
Not toight, good Iago: I have very poor and
unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish
courtesy would invent some other custom of
and vnhappie Braines for drinking. I could well wish
Curtesie would inuent some other Custome of entertainment
O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for
drinke for you
I have drunk but one cup toight, and that was
craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation40
it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity,
and dare not task my weakness with any more.
was craftily qualified too: and behold what inouation
it makes heere. I am infortunate in the infirmity, and
dare not taske my weakenesse with any more
What, man! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants
Where are they?
Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.
I'll do't; but it dislikes me.
If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
With that which he hath drunk toight already,
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence50
As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,
Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
To Desdemona hath toight caroused
Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch:
Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,
That hold their honours in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,
Have I toight fluster'd with flowing cups,
And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards,
Am I to put our Cassio in some action60
That may offend the isle.--But here they come:
If consequence do but approve my dream,
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
With that which he hath drunke to night alreadie,
He'l be as full of Quarrell, and offence
As my yong Mistris dogge.
Now my sicke Foole Rodorigo,
Whom Loue hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
To Desdemona hath to night Carrows'd.
Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch.
Three else of Cyprus, Noble swelling Spirites,
(That hold their Honours in a wary distance,
The very Elements of this Warrelike Isle)
Haue I to night fluster'd with flowing Cups,
And they Watch too.
Now 'mongst this Flocke of drunkards
Am I put to our Cassio in some Action
That may offend the Isle. But here they come.
Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen.
If Consequence do but approue my dreame,
My Boate sailes freely, both with winde and Streame
Enter Cassio; with him Montano and Gentlemen; servants following with
'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.
Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am
Some wine, ho!
And let me the canakin clink, clink;
And let me the canakin clink
A soldier's a man;70
A life's but a span;
Why, then, let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys!
And let me the Cannakin clinke, clinke:
And let me the Cannakin clinke.
A Souldiers a man: Oh, mans life's but a span,
Why then let a Souldier drinke.
Some Wine Boyes
'Fore God, an excellent song.
I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are
most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and
your swag-bellied Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing
to your English.
most potent in Potting. Your Dane, your Germaine,
and your swag-belly'd Hollander, (drinke hoa) are
nothing to your English
Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?
Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead80
drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he
gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle
can be filled.
dead drunke. He sweates not to ouerthrow your Almaine.
He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the next
Pottle can be fill'd
To the health of our general!
I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice.
O sweet England!
King Stephen was a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he call'd the tailor lown.90
He was a wight of high renown,
And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis pride that pulls the country down;
Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
Some wine, ho!
King Stephen was anda worthy Peere,
His Breeches cost him but a Crowne,
He held them Six pence all to deere,
With that he cal'd the Tailor Lowne:
He was a wight of high Renowne,
And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis Pride that pulls the Country downe,
And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee.
Some Wine hoa
Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.
Will you hear't again?
No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that
does those things. Well, God's above all; and there
be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
that do's those things. Well: heau'ns aboue all: and
there be soules must be saued, and there be soules must
not be saued
It's true, good lieutenant.
For mine own part,--no offence to the general, nor
any man of quality,--I hope to be saved.
nor any man of qualitie: I hope to be saued
And so do I too, lieutenant.
Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the
lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's
have no more of this; let's to our affairs.--Forgive
us our sins!--Gentlemen, let's look to our business.
Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my
ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left:110
I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and
speak well enough.
Lieutenant is to be saued before the Ancient. Let's haue
no more of this: let's to our Affaires. Forgiue vs our
sinnes: Gentlemen let's looke to our businesse. Do not
thinke Gentlemen, I am drunke: this is my Ancient, this
is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not drunke
now: I can stand well enough, and I speake well enough
Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk.
that I am drunke.
To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch.
You see this fellow that is gone before;
He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
And give direction: and do but see his vice;
'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him.120
I fear the trust Othello puts him in.
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.
He's a Souldier, fit to stand by Caesar,
And giue direction. And do but see his vice,
'Tis to his vertue, a iust Equinox,
The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pittie of him:
I feare the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odde time of his infirmitie
Will shake this Island
But is he often thus?
'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
He'll watch the horologe a double set,
If drink rock not his cradle.
He'le watch the Horologe a double Set,
If Drinke rocke not his Cradle
It were well
The general were put in mind of it.
Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature130
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
And looks not on his evils: is not this true?
The Generall were put in mind of it:
Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature
Prizes the vertue that appeares in Cassio,
And lookes not on his euills: is not this true?
[Aside to him] How now, Roderigo!
I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.
I pray you after the Lieutenant, go
And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a place as his own second
With one of an ingraft infirmity:
It were an honest action to say
So to the Moor.
Should hazard such a Place, as his owne Second
With one of an ingraft Infirmitie,
It were an honest Action, to say so
To the Moore
Not I, for this fair island:140
I do love Cassio well; and would do much
To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise?
Cry within: 'Help! help!'
I do loue Cassio well: and would do much
To cure him of this euill, But hearke, what noise?
Enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo
You rogue! you rascal!
Enter Cassio pursuing Rodorigo.
What's the matter, lieutenant?
A knave teach me my duty!
I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.
Knaue in to a Twiggen-Bottle
Dost thou prate, rogue?
Nay, good lieutenant;
I pray you, sir, hold your hand.
I pray you Sir, hold your hand
Let me go, sir,
Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.
Or Ile knocke you o're the Mazard
[Aside to Roderigo] Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny.
Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;--
Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed!
Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho!160
The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold!
You will be shamed for ever.
Nay good Lieutenant. Alas Gentlemen:
Helpe hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano:
Helpe Masters. Heere's a goodly Watch indeed.
Who's that which rings the Bell: Diablo, hoa:
The Towne will rise. Fie, fie Lieutenant,
You'le be asham'd for euer.
Enter Othello and attendants
What is the matter here?
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.
Hold, for your lives!
Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir--Montano,--gentlemen,--
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!
Haue you forgot all place of sense and dutie?
Hold. The Generall speaks to you: hold for shame
Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that170
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.
Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle
From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.
Are we turn'd Turkes? and to our selues do that
Which Heauen hath forbid the Ottamittes.
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous Brawle:
He that stirs next, to carue for his owne rage,
Holds his soule light: He dies vpon his Motion.
Silence that dreadfull Bell, it frights the Isle,
From her propriety. What is the matter, Masters?
Honest Iago, that lookes dead with greeuing,
Speake: who began this? On thy loue I charge thee?
I do not know: friends all but now, even now,
In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom180
Devesting them for bed; and then, but now--
As if some planet had unwitted men--
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds;
And would in action glorious I had lost
Those legs that brought me to a part of it!
In Quarter, and in termes like Bride, and Groome
Deuesting them for Bed: and then, but now:
(As if some Planet had vnwitted men)
Swords out, and tilting one at others breastes,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speake
Any begining to this peeuish oddes.
And would, in Action glorious, I had lost
Those legges, that brought me to a part of it
How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?
I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.
Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;190
The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted, and your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure: what's the matter,
That you unlace your reputation thus
And spend your rich opinion for the name
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.
The grauitie, and stillnesse of your youth
The world hath noted. And your name is great
In mouthes of wisest Censure. What's the matter
That you vnlace your reputation thus,
And spend your rich opinion, for the name
Of a night-brawler? Giue me answer to it
Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:
Your officer, Iago, can inform you,--
While I spare speech, which something now
Of all that I do know: nor know I aught
By me that's said or done amiss this night;
Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend ourselves it be a sin
When violence assails us.
Your Officer Iago, can informe you,
While I spare speech which something now offends me.
Of all that I do know, nor know I ought
By me, that's said, or done amisse this night,
Vnlesse selfe-charitie be sometimes a vice,
And to defend our selues, it be a sinne
When violence assailes vs
Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
And passion, having my best judgment collied,
Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you210
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
How this foul rout began, who set it on;
And he that is approved in this offence,
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel,
In night, and on the court and guard of safety!
'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't?
My blood begins my safer Guides to rule,
And passion (hauing my best iudgement collied)
Assaies to leade the way. If I once stir,
Or do but lift this Arme, the best of you
Shall sinke in my rebuke. Giue me to know
How this foule Rout began: Who set it on,
And he that is approu'd in this offence,
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall loose me. What in a Towne of warre,
Yet wilde, the peoples hearts brim-full of feare,
To Manage priuate, and domesticke Quarrell?
In night, and on the Court and Guard of safetie?
'Tis monstrous: Iago, who began't?
If partially affined, or leagued in office,220
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.
Thou dost deliuer more, or lesse then Truth,
Thou art no Souldier
Touch me not so near:
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow crying out for help:
And Cassio following him with determined sword,230
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest by his clamour--as it so fell out--
The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Cassio high in oath; which till toight
I ne'er might say before. When I came back--
For this was brief--I found them close together,240
At blow and thrust; even as again they were
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report:
But men are men; the best sometimes forget:
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received
From him that fled some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.
I had rather haue this tongue cut from my mouth,
Then it should do offence to Michaell Cassio.
Yet I perswade my selfe, to speake the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. This it is Generall:
Montano and my selfe being in speech,
There comes a Fellow, crying out for helpe,
And Cassio following him with determin'd Sword
To execute vpon him. Sir, this Gentleman,
Steppes in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:
My selfe, the crying Fellow did pursue,
Least by his clamour (as it so fell out)
The Towne might fall in fright. He, (swift of foote)
Out-ran my purpose: and I return'd then rather
For that I heard the clinke, and fall of Swords,
And Cassio high in oath: Which till to night
I nere might say before. When I came backe
(For this was briefe) I found them close together
At blow, and thrust, euen as againe they were
When you your selfe did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report,
But Men are Men: The best sometimes forget,
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet surely Cassio, I beleeue receiu'd
From him that fled, some strange Indignitie,
Which patience could not passe
I know, Iago,250
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee
But never more be officer of mine.
Enter Desdemona, attended
Look, if my gentle love be not raised up!
I'll make thee an example.
Thy honestie, and loue doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio: Cassio, I loue thee,
But neuer more be Officer of mine.
Enter Desdemona attended.
Looke if my gentle Loue be not rais'd vp:
Ile make thee an example
What's the matter?
All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed.
Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:
Lead him off.
To Montano, who is led off
Iago, look with care about the town,260
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life
To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
Exeunt all but Iago and Cassio
Come away to bed. Sir for your hurts,
My selfe will be your Surgeon. Lead him off:
Iago, looke with care about the Towne,
And silence those whom this vil'd brawle distracted.
Come Desdemona, 'tis the Soldiers life,
To haue their Balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.
What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Ay, past all surgery.
Marry, heaven forbid!
Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost
my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of
myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,
Iago, my reputation!
lost my Reputation. I haue lost the immortall part of
myselfe, and what remaines is bestiall. My Reputation,
Iago, my Reputation
As I am an honest man, I thought you had received
some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than
in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false
imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without
deserving: you have lost no reputation at all,
unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man!
there are ways to recover the general again: you
are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in
policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his
offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue280
to him again, and he's yours.
receiued some bodily wound; there is more sence in that
then in Reputation. Reputation is an idle, and most false
imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deseruing.
You haue lost no Reputation at all, vnlesse you
repute your selfe such a looser. What man, there are
more wayes to recouer the Generall againe. You are
but now cast in his moode, (a punishment more in policie,
then in malice) euen so as one would beate his offencelesse
dogge, to affright an Imperious Lyon. Sue to
him againe, and he's yours
I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so
good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so
indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot?
and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse
fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible
spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,
let us call thee devil!
so good a Commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so
indiscreet an Officer. Drunke? And speake Parrat? And
squabble? Swagger? Sweare? And discourse Fustian
with ones owne shadow? Oh thou invisible spirit of
Wine, if thou hast no name to be knowne by, let vs call
What was he that you followed with your sword? What
had he done to you?
Sword? What had he done to you?
I know not.
I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly;
a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men
should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away
their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance
revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!
a Quarrell, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that
men should put an Enemie in their mouthes, to steale away
their Braines? that we should with ioy, pleasance,
reuell and applause, transforme our selues into Beasts
Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus
came you thus recouered?
It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place300
to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me
another, to make me frankly despise myself.
place to the diuell wrath, one vnperfectnesse, shewes me
another to make me frankly despise my selfe
Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time,
the place, and the condition of this country
stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen;
but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.
Time, the Place, & the Condition of this Country stands
I could hartily wish this had not befalne: but since it is, as
it is, mend it for your owne good
I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me
I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra,
such an answer would stop them all. To be now a
sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a310
beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is
unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.
me, I am a drunkard: had I as many mouthes as Hydra,
such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible
man, by and by a Foole, and presently a Beast. Oh
strange! Euery inordinate cup is vnbless'd, and the Ingredient
is a diuell
Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature,
if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.
And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.
Creature, if it be well vs'd: exclaime no more against it.
And good Lieutenant, I thinke, you thinke I loue
I have well approved it, sir. I drunk!
You or any man living may be drunk! at a time, man.
I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife
is now the general: may say so in this respect, for
that he hath devoted and given up himself to the320
contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and
graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune
her help to put you in your place again: she is of
so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition,
she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more
than she is requested: this broken joint between
you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my
fortunes against any lay worth naming, this
crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.
time man. I tell you what you shall do: Our General's
Wife, is now the Generall. I may say so, in this respect,
for that he hath deuoted, and giuen vp himselfe to the
Contemplation, marke: and deuotement of her parts
and Graces. Confesse your selfe freely to her: Importune
her helpe to put you in your place againe. She is
of so free, so kinde, so apt, so blessed a disposition,
she holds it a vice in her goodnesse, not to do more
then she is requested. This broken ioynt betweene
you, and her husband, entreat her to splinter. And my
Fortunes against any lay worth naming, this cracke of
your Loue, shall grow stronger, then it was before
You advise me well.
I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.
I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will
beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me:
I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here.
I will beseech the vertuous Desdemona to vndertake
for me: I am desperate of my Fortunes if they check me
You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I
must to the watch.
Cassio: Good night, honest Iago.
must to the Watch
And what's he then that says I play the villain?
When this advice is free I give and honest,
Probal to thinking and indeed the course340
To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy
The inclining Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful
As the free elements. And then for her
To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
Even as her appetite shall play the god
With his weak function. How am I then a villain350
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
When devils will the blackest sins put on,
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,
As I do now: for whiles this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,
That she repeals him for her body's lust;
And by how much she strives to do him good,360
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
And out of her own goodness make the net
That shall enmesh them all.
How now, Roderigo!
I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that
hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is
almost spent; I have been toight exceedingly well
cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall
have so much experience for my pains, and so, with370
no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.
That saies I play the Villaine?
When this aduise is free I giue, and honest,
Proball to thinking, and indeed the course
To win the Moore againe.
For 'tis most easie
Th' inclyning Desdemona to subdue
In any honest Suite. She's fram'd as fruitefull
As the free Elements. And then for her
To win the Moore, were to renownce his Baptisme,
All Seales, and Simbols of redeemed sin:
His Soule is so enfetter'd to her Loue,
That she may make, vnmake, do what she list,
Euen as her Appetite shall play the God,
With his weake Function. How am I then a Villaine,
To Counsell Cassio to this paralell course,
Directly to his good? Diuinitie of hell,
When diuels will the blackest sinnes put on,
They do suggest at first with heauenly shewes,
As I do now. For whiles this honest Foole
Plies Desdemona, to repaire his Fortune,
And she for him, pleades strongly to the Moore,
Ile powre this pestilence into his eare:
That she repeales him, for her bodies Lust,
And by how much she striues to do him good,
She shall vndo her Credite with the Moore.
So will I turne her vertue into pitch.
And out of her owne goodnesse make the Net,
That shall en-mash them all.
How now Rodorigo?
How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee.
And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio:
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:
Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning;380
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get thee gone.
Two things are to be done:
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
I'll set her on;
Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife: ay, that's the way390
Dull not device by coldness and delay.
like a Hound that hunts, but one that filles vp the
Crie. My Money is almost spent; I haue bin to night
exceedingly well Cudgell'd: And I thinke the issue
will bee, I shall haue so much experience for my paines;
And so, with no money at all, and a little more Wit, returne
againe to Venice
Act III. Scene I. Before the castle.
Enter Cassio and some Musicians
Masters, play here; I will content your pains;
Something that's brief; and bid 'Good morrow, general.'
What wound did euer heale but by degrees?
Thou know'st we worke by Wit, and not by Witchcraft
And Wit depends on dilatory time:
Dos't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,
And thou by that small hurt hath casheer'd Cassio:
Though other things grow faire against the Sun,
Yet Fruites that blossome first, will first be ripe:
Content thy selfe, a-while. Introth 'tis Morning;
Pleasure, and Action, make the houres seeme short.
Retire thee, go where thou art Billited:
Away, I say, thou shalt know more heereafter:
Nay get thee gone.
Two things are to be done:
My Wife must moue for Cassio to her Mistris:
Ile set her on my selfe, a while, to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him iumpe, when he may Cassio finde
Soliciting his wife: I, that's the way:
Dull not Deuice, by coldnesse, and delay.
Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples,
that they speak i' the nose thus?
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Cassio, Musitians, and Clowne.
Something that's briefe: and bid, goodmorrow General
How, sir, how!
that they speake i'th' Nose thus?
Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?
Ay, marry, are they, sir.
O, thereby hangs a tail.
Whereby hangs a tale, sir?
Marry. sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know.
But, masters, here's money for you: and the general
so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's
sake, to make no more noise with it.
Well, sir, we will not.
know. But Masters, heere's money for you: and the Generall
so likes your Musick, that he desires you for loues
sake to make no more noise with it
If you have any music that may not be heard, to't
again: but, as they say to hear music the general
does not greatly care.
We have none such, sir.
too't againe. But (as they say) to heare Musicke, the Generall
do's not greatly care
Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away:20
go; vanish into air; away!
Dost thou hear, my honest friend?
away. Go, vanish into ayre, away.
No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.
Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece
of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends
the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's
one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech:
wilt thou do this?
I heare you
She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I
shall seem to notify unto her.
peece of Gold for thee: if the Gentlewoman that attends
the Generall be stirring, tell her, there's one Cassio entreats
her a little fauour of Speech. Wilt thou do this?
Do, good my friend.
In happy time, Iago.
seeme to notifie vnto her.
In happy time, Iago
You have not been a-bed, then?
Why, no; the day had broke
Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,
To send in to your wife: my suit to her
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
Procure me some access.
I haue made bold (Iago) to send in to your wife:
My suite to her is, that she will to vertuous Desdemona
Procure me some accesse
I'll send her to you presently;
And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor40
Out of the way, that your converse and business
May be more free.
And Ile deuise a meane to draw the Moore
Out of the way, that your conuerse and businesse
May be more free.
I humbly thank you for't.
I never knew
A Florentine more kind and honest.
A Florentine more kinde, and honest.
Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry
For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
The general and his wife are talking of it;
And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies,
That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus,50
And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom
He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you
And needs no other suitor but his likings
To take the safest occasion by the front
To bring you in again.
For your displeasure: but all will sure be well.
The Generall and his wife are talking of it,
And she speakes for you stoutly. The Moore replies,
That he you hurt is of great Fame in Cyprus,
And great Affinitie: and that in wholsome Wisedome
He might not but refuse you. But he protests he loues you
And needs no other Suitor, but his likings
To bring you in againe
Yet, I beseech you,
If you think fit, or that it may be done,
Give me advantage of some brief discourse
With Desdemona alone.
If you thinke fit, or that it may be done,
Giue me aduantage of some breefe Discourse
With Desdemon alone.
Pray you, come in;60
I will bestow you where you shall have time
To speak your bosom freely.
I will bestow you where you shall haue time
To speake your bosome freely
I am much bound to you.
Act III. Scene II. A room in the castle.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen
These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
And by him do my duties to the senate:
That done, I will be walking on the works;
Repair there to me.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.
And by him do my duties to the Senate:
That done, I will be walking on the Workes,
Repaire there to mee
Well, my good lord, I'll do't.
This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't?
We'll wait upon your lordship.
Act III. Scene III. The garden of the castle.
Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia
Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
All my abilities in thy behalf.
Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and aemilia.
All my abilities in thy behalfe.
Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband,
As if the case were his.
I warrant it greeues my Husband,
As if the cause were his
O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio,
But I will have my lord and you again
As friendly as you were.
But I will haue my Lord, and you againe
As friendly as you were
Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,10
He's never any thing but your true servant.
What euer shall become of Michael Cassio,
He's neuer any thing but your true Seruant
I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord:
You have known him long; and be you well assured
He shall in strangeness stand no further off
Than in a polite distance.
You haue knowne him long, and be you well assur'd
He shall in strangenesse stand no farther off,
Then in a politique distance
Ay, but, lady,
That policy may either last so long,
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
That, I being absent and my place supplied,20
My general will forget my love and service.
That policie may either last so long,
Or feede vpon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breede it selfe so out of Circumstances,
That I being absent, and my place supply'd,
My Generall will forget my Loue, and Seruice
Do not doubt that; before Emilia here
I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
To the last article: my lord shall never rest;
I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience;
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
I'll intermingle every thing he does
With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio;
For thy solicitor shall rather die30
Than give thy cause away.
I giue thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship, Ile performe it
To the last Article. My Lord shall neuer rest,
Ile watch him tame, and talke him out of patience;
His Bed shall seeme a Schoole, his Boord a Shrift,
Ile intermingle euery thing he do's
With Cassio's suite: Therefore be merry Cassio,
For thy Solicitor shall rather dye,
Then giue thy cause away.
Madam, here comes my lord.
Enter Othello, and Iago.
Madam, I'll take my leave.
Why, stay, and hear me speak.
Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,
Unfit for mine own purposes.
Vnfit for mine owne purposes
Well, do your discretion.
Enter Othello and Iago
Ha! I like not that.
What dost thou say?
Nothing, my lord: or if--I know not what.
Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?
Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it,
That he would steal away so guilty-like,
Seeing you coming.
That he would steale away so guilty-like,
Seeing your comming
I do believe 'twas he.
How now, my lord!
I have been talking with a suitor here,
A man that languishes in your displeasure.
I haue bin talking with a Suitor heere,
A man that languishes in your displeasure
Who is't you mean?
Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,50
If I have any grace or power to move you,
His present reconciliation take;
For if he be not one that truly loves you,
That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
I have no judgment in an honest face:
I prithee, call him back.
If I haue any grace, or power to moue you,
His present reconciliation take.
For if he be not one, that truly loues you,
That erres in Ignorance, and not in Cunning,
I haue no iudgement in an honest face.
I prythee call him backe
Went he hence now?
Ay, sooth; so humbled
That he hath left part of his grief with me,
To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.
That he hath left part of his greefe with mee
To suffer with him. Good Loue, call him backe
Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time.
But shall't be shortly?
The sooner, sweet, for you.
Shall't be toight at supper?
No, not toight.
To-morrow dinner, then?
I shall not dine at home;
I meet the captains at the citadel.
I meete the Captaines at the Cittadell
Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;
On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn:70
I prithee, name the time, but let it not
Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;
And yet his trespass, in our common reason--
Save that, they say, the wars must make examples
Out of their best--is not almost a fault
To incur a private cheque. When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul,
What you would ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time,80
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do
To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,--
On Tuesday noone, or night; on Wensday Morne.
I prythee name the time, but let it not
Exceed three dayes. Infaith hee's penitent:
And yet his Trespasse, in our common reason
(Saue that they say the warres must make example)
Out of her best, is not almost a fault
T' encurre a priuate checke. When shall he come?
Tell me Othello. I wonder in my Soule
What you would aske me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mam'ring on? What? Michael Cassio,
That came a woing with you? and so many a time
(When I haue spoke of you dispraisingly)
Hath tane your part, to haue so much to do
To bring him in? Trust me, I could do much
Prithee, no more: let him come when he will;
I will deny thee nothing.
I will deny thee nothing
Why, this is not a boon;
'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
To your own person: nay, when I have a suit90
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poise and difficult weight
And fearful to be granted.
'Tis as I should entreate you weare your Gloues,
Or feede on nourishing dishes, or keepe you warme,
Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit
To your owne person. Nay, when I haue a suite
Wherein I meane to touch your Loue indeed,
It shall be full of poize, and difficult waight,
And fearefull to be granted
I will deny thee nothing:
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leaue me but a little to my selfe
Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord.
Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight.
Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;
Whate'er you be, I am obedient.
Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia
What ere you be, I am obedient.
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again.
But I do loue thee: and when I loue thee not,
Chaos is come againe
My noble lord--
What dost thou say, Iago?
Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
Know of your love?
When he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue?
He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?
Why dost thou aske?
But for a satisfaction of my thought;
No further harm.
No further harme
Why of thy thought, Iago?
I did not think he had been acquainted with her.
O, yes; and went between us very oft.
Indeed! ay, indeed: discern'st thou aught in that?
Is he not honest?
Is he not honest?
Honest, my lord!
Honest! ay, honest.
My lord, for aught I know.
What dost thou think?
Think, my lord!
Think, my lord!
By heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something:
I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that,
When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?
And when I told thee he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed!'
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,130
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.
As if there were some Monster in thy thought
Too hideous to be shewne. Thou dost mean somthing:
I heard thee say euen now, thou lik'st not that,
When Cassio left my wife. What didd'st not like?
And when I told thee, he was of my Counsaile,
Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeede?
And didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadd'st shut vp in thy Braine
Some horrible Conceite. If thou do'st loue me,
Shew me thy thought
My lord, you know I love you.
I think thou dost;
And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty,
And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath,
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:
For such things in a false disloyal knave
Are tricks of custom, but in a man that's just140
They are close delations, working from the heart
That passion cannot rule.
And for I know thou'rt full of Loue, and Honestie,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giu'st them breath,
Therefore these stops of thine, fright me the more:
For such things in a false disloyall Knaue
Are trickes of Custome: but in a man that's iust,
They're close dilations, working from the heart,
That Passion cannot rule
For Michael Cassio,
I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.
I dare be sworne, I thinke that he is honest
I think so too.
Men should be what they seem;
Or those that be not, would they might seem none!
Or those that be not, would they might seeme none
Certain, men should be what they seem.
Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man.
Nay, yet there's more in this:150
I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words.
I prythee speake to me, as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and giue thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words
Good my lord, pardon me:
Though I am bound to every act of duty,
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false;
As where's that palace whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions160
Keep leets and law-days and in session sit
With meditations lawful?
Though I am bound to euery Acte of dutie,
I am not bound to that: All Slaues are free:
Vtter my Thoughts? Why say, they are vild, and falce?
As where's that Palace, whereinto foule things
Sometimes intrude not? Who ha's that breast so pure,
Wherein vncleanly Apprehensions
Keepe Leetes, and Law-dayes, and in Sessions sit
With meditations lawfull?
Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his eare
A stranger to thy Thoughts
I do beseech you--
Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,
As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom yet,170
From one that so imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
It were not for your quiet nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.
Though I perchance am vicious in my guesse
(As I confesse it is my Natures plague
To spy into Abuses, and of my iealousie
Shapes faults that are not) that your wisedome
From one, that so imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice, nor build your selfe a trouble
Out of his scattering, and vnsure obseruance:
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my Manhood, Honesty, and Wisedome,
To let you know my thoughts
What dost thou mean?
Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;180
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands:
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.
Is the immediate Iewell of their Soules;
Who steales my purse, steales trash:
'Tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has bin slaue to thousands:
But he that filches from me my good Name,
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
And makes me poore indeed
By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.
You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
Nor shall not, whil'st 'tis in my custodie
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock190
The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!
It is the greene-ey'd Monster, which doth mocke
The meate it feeds on. That Cuckold liues in blisse,
Who certaine of his Fate, loues not his wronger:
But oh, what damned minutes tels he ore,
Who dotes, yet doubts: Suspects, yet soundly loues?
Poor and content is rich and rich enough,
But riches fineless is as poor as winter
To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
But Riches finelesse, is as poore as Winter,
To him that euer feares he shall be poore:
Good Heauen, the Soules of all my Tribe defend
Why, why is this?
Think'st thou I'ld make a lie of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt
Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat,
When I shall turn the business of my soul
To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well;210
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;
I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And on the proof, there is no more but this,--
Away at once with love or jealousy!
Think'st thou, I'ld make a Life of Iealousie;
To follow still the changes of the Moone
With fresh suspitions? No: to be once in doubt,
Is to be resolu'd: Exchange me for a Goat,
When I shall turne the businesse of my Soule
To such exufflicate, and blow'd Surmises,
Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me Iealious,
To say my wife is faire, feeds well, loues company,
Is free of Speech, Sings, Playes, and Dances:
Where Vertue is, these are more vertuous.
Nor from mine owne weake merites, will I draw
The smallest feare, or doubt of her reuolt,
For she had eyes, and chose me. No Iago,
Ile see before I doubt; when I doubt, proue;
And on the proofe, there is no more but this,
Away at once with Loue, or Iealousie
I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,220
Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure:
I would not have your free and noble nature,
Out of self-bounty, be abused; look to't:
I know our country disposition well;
In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience
Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown.
To shew the Loue and Duty that I beare you
With franker spirit. Therefore (as I am bound)
Receiue it from me. I speake not yet of proofe:
Looke to your wife, obserue her well with Cassio,
Weare your eyes, thus: not Iealious, nor Secure:
I would not haue your free, and Noble Nature,
Out of selfe-Bounty, be abus'd: Looke too't:
I know our Country disposition well:
In Venice, they do let Heauen see the prankes
They dare not shew their Husbands.
Their best Conscience,
Is not to leaue't vndone, but kept vnknowne
Dost thou say so?
She did deceive her father, marrying you;
And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks,
She loved them most.
And when she seem'd to shake, and feare your lookes,
She lou'd them most
And so she did.
Why, go to then;
She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
To seal her father's eyes up close as oak-
He thought 'twas witchcraft--but I am much to blame;
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
For too much loving you.
Shee that so young could giue out such a Seeming
To seele her Fathers eyes vp, close as Oake,
He thought 'twas Witchcraft.
But I am much too blame:
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
For too much louing you
I am bound to thee for ever.
I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.
Not a jot, not a jot.
I' faith, I fear it has.
I hope you will consider what is spoke
Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved:
I am to pray you not to strain my speech
To grosser issues nor to larger reach
Than to suspicion.
I hope you will consider what is spoke
Comes from your Loue.
But I do see y'are moou'd:
I am to pray you, not to straine my speech
To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,
Then to Suspition
I will not.
Should you do so, my lord,
My speech should fall into such vile success
As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend--
My lord, I see you're moved.
My speech should fall into such vilde successe,
Which my Thoughts aym'd not.
Cassio's my worthy Friend:
My Lord, I see y'are mou'd
No, not much moved:
I do not think but Desdemona's honest.
I do not thinke but Desdemona's honest
Long live she so! and long live you to think so!
And long liue you to thinke so
And yet, how nature erring from itself,--
Ay, there's the point: as--to be bold with you--
Not to affect many proposed matches260
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
Whereto we see in all things nature tends--
Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,
Foul disproportion thoughts unnatural.
But pardon me; I do not in position
Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
May fall to match you with her country forms
And happily repent.
As (to be bold with you)
Not to affect many proposed Matches
Of her owne Clime, Complexion, and Degree,
Whereto we see in all things, Nature tends:
Foh, one may smel in such, a will most ranke,
Foule disproportions, Thoughts vnnaturall.
But (pardon me) I do not in position
Distinctly speake of her, though I may feare
Her will, recoyling to her better iudgement,
May fal to match you with her Country formes,
And happily repent
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago:
If more thou dost perceiue, let me know more:
Set on thy wife to obserue.
Leaue me Iago
[Going] My lord, I take my leave.
Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
This honest Creature (doubtlesse)
Sees, and knowes more, much more then he vnfolds
[Returning] My lord, I would I might entreat
To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
Though it be fit that Cassio have his place,
For sure, he fills it up with great ability,280
Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
You shall by that perceive him and his means:
Note, if your lady strain his entertainment
With any strong or vehement importunity;
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears--
As worthy cause I have to fear I am--
And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.
To scan this thing no farther: Leaue it to time,
Although 'tis fit that Cassio haue his Place;
For sure he filles it vp with great Ability;
Yet if you please, to him off a-while:
You shall by that perceiue him, and his meanes:
Note if your Lady straine his Entertainment
With any strong, or vehement importunitie,
Much will be seene in that: In the meane time,
Let me be thought too busie in my feares,
(As worthy cause I haue to feare I am)
And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor
Fear not my government.
I once more take my leave.
This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind,
To pray at fortune. Haply, for I am black
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have, or for I am declined
Into the vale of years,--yet that's not much--
She's gone. I am abused; and my relief300
Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones;
Prerogatived are they less than the base;
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
Even then this forked plague is fated to us
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:
Enter Desdemona and Emilia
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!
I'll not believe't.
And knowes all Quantities with a learn'd Spirit
Of humane dealings. If I do proue her Haggard,
Though that her Iesses were my deere heart-strings,
I'ld whistle her off, and let her downe the winde
To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am blacke,
And haue not those soft parts of Conuersation
That Chamberers haue: Or for I am declin'd
Into the vale of yeares (yet that's not much)
Shee's gone. I am abus'd, and my releefe
Must be to loath her. Oh Curse of Marriage!
That we can call these delicate Creatures ours,
And not their Appetites? I had rather be a Toad,
And liue vpon the vapour of a Dungeon,
Then keepe a corner in the thing I loue
For others vses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones,
Prerogatiu'd are they lesse then the Base,
'Tis destiny vnshunnable, like death:
Euen then, this forked plague is Fated to vs,
When we do quicken. Looke where she comes:
Enter Desdemona and aemilia.
If she be false, Heauen mock'd it selfe:
Ile not beleeue't
How now, my dear Othello!
Your dinner, and the generous islanders
By you invited, do attend your presence.
Your dinner, and the generous Islanders
By you inuited, do attend your presence
I am to blame.
Why do you speak so faintly?
Are you not well?
Are you not well?
I have a pain upon my forehead here.
'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again:320
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.
Let me but binde it hard, within this houre
It will be well
Your napkin is too little:
He puts the handkerchief from him; and it drops
Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.
Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you.
I am very sorry that you are not well.
Exeunt Othello and Desdemona
I am glad I have found this napkin:
This was her first remembrance from the Moor:
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token,
For he conjured her she should ever keep it,330
That she reserves it evermore about her
To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
And give't Iago: what he will do with it
Heaven knows, not I;
I nothing but to please his fantasy.
This was her first remembrance from the Moore,
My wayward Husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to steale it. But she so loues the Token,
(For he coniur'd her, she should euer keepe it)
That she reserues it euermore about her,
To kisse, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out,
And giu't Iago: what he will do with it
Heauen knowes, not I:
I nothing, but to please his Fantasie.
How now! what do you here alone?
Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.
A thing for me? it is a common thing--
It is a common thing-
To have a foolish wife.
O, is that all? What will you give me now
For the same handkerchief?
For that same Handkerchiefe
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
That which so often you did bid me steal.
Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona,
That which so often you did bid me steale
Hast stol'n it from her?
No, 'faith; she let it drop by negligence.
And, to the advantage, I, being here, took't up.
Look, here it is.
And to th' aduantage, I being heere, took't vp:
Looke, heere 'tis
A good wench; give it me.
What will you do with 't, that you have been
To have me filch it?
so earnest to haue me filch it?
[Snatching it] Why, what's that to you?
If it be not for some purpose of import,
Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad
When she shall lack it.
Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, shee'l run mad
When she shall lacke it
Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it.
Go, leave me.
I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison:
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons.
Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
But with a little act upon the blood.
Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so:
Look, where he comes!
Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou owedst yesterday.
I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me.
I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin,
And let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre,
Are to the iealious, confirmations strong,
As proofes of holy Writ. This may do something.
The Moore already changes with my poyson:
Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons,
Which at the first are scarse found to distaste:
But with a little acte vpon the blood,
Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so.
Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora,
Nor all the drowsie Syrrups of the world
Shall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepe
Which thou owd'st yesterday
Ha! ha! false to me?
Why, how now, general! no more of that.
Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:
I swear 'tis better to be much abused
Than but to know't a little.
I sweare 'tis better to be much abus'd,
Then but to know't a little
How now, my lord!
What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?
I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.
I saw't not, thought it not: it harm'd not me:
I slept the next night well, fed well, was free, and merrie.
I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lippes:
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolne,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all
I am sorry to hear this.
I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever390
Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!
Pyoners and all, had tasted her sweet Body,
So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for euer
Farewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content;
Farewell the plumed Troopes, and the bigge Warres,
That makes Ambition, Vertue! Oh farewell,
Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trumpe,
The Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife,
The Royall Banner, and all Qualitie,
Pride, Pompe, and Circumstance of glorious Warre:
And O you mortall Engines, whose rude throates
Th' immortall Ioues dread Clamours, counterfet,
Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone
Is't possible, my lord?
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof:
Or by the worth of man's eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my waked wrath!
Be sure of it: Giue me the Occular proofe,
Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule,
Thou had'st bin better haue bin borne a Dog
Then answer my wak'd wrath
Is't come to this?
Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it,
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!
That the probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope,
To hang a doubt on: Or woe vpon thy life
My noble lord,--
If thou dost slander her and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horror's head horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.
Neuer pray more: Abandon all remorse
On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate:
Do deeds to make Heauen weepe, all Earth amaz'd;
For nothing canst thou to damnation adde,
Greater then that
O grace! O heaven forgive me!
Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?
God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched fool.420
That livest to make thine honesty a vice!
O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honest is not safe.
I thank you for this profit; and from hence
I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.
Are you a Man? Haue you a Soule? or Sense?
God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Foole,
That lou'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice!
Oh monstrous world! Take note, take note (O World)
To be direct and honest, is not safe.
I thanke you for this profit, and from hence
Ile loue no Friend, sith Loue breeds such offence
Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest.
I should be wise, for honesty's a fool
And loses that it works for.
And looses that it workes for
By the world,
I think my wife be honest and think she is not;430
I think that thou art just and think thou art not.
I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black
As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!
I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not:
I thinke that thou art iust, and thinke thou art not:
Ile haue some proofe. My name that was as fresh
As Dians Visage, is now begrim'd and blacke
As mine owne face. If there be Cords, or Kniues,
Poyson, or Fire, or suffocating streames,
Ile not indure it. Would I were satisfied
I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:
I do repent me that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?
I do repent me, that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?
Would! nay, I will.
And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on--
Behold her topp'd?
Would you the super-vision grossely gape on?
Behold her top'd?
Death and damnation! O!
It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring them to that prospect: damn them then,
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
More than their own! What then? how then?
What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this,450
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
If imputation and strong circumstances,
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.
To bring them to that Prospect: Damne them then,
If euer mortall eyes do see them boulster
More then their owne. What then? How then?
What shall I say? Where's Satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this,
Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeyes,
As salt as Wolues in pride, and Fooles as grosse
As Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I say,
If imputation, and strong circumstances,
Which leade directly to the doore of Truth,
Will giue you satisfaction, you might haue't
Give me a living reason she's disloyal.
I do not like the office:
But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,
Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,460
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep.
There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
One of this kind is Cassio:
In sleep I heard him say 'Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;'
And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
Cry 'O sweet creature!' and then kiss me hard,470
As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots
That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then
Cried 'Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!'
But sith I am entred in this cause so farre
(Prick'd too't by foolish Honesty, and Loue)
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately,
And being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleepe. There are a kinde of men,
So loose of Soule, that in their sleepes will mutter
Their Affayres: one of this kinde is Cassio:
In sleepe I heard him say, sweet Desdemona,
Let vs be wary, let vs hide our Loues,
And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand:
Cry, oh sweet Creature: then kisse me hard,
As if he pluckt vp kisses by the rootes,
That grew vpon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh,
And sigh, and kisse, and then cry cursed Fate,
That gaue thee to the Moore
O monstrous! monstrous!
Nay, this was but his dream.
But this denoted a foregone conclusion:
'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.
'Tis a shrew'd doubt, though it be but a Dreame
And this may help to thicken other proofs
That do demonstrate thinly.
That do demonstrate thinly
I'll tear her all to pieces.
Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done;
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?
She may be honest yet: Tell me but this,
Haue you not sometimes seene a Handkerchiefe
Spotted with Strawberries, in your wiues hand?
I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.
I know not that; but such a handkerchief--
I am sure it was your wife's--did I today
See Cassio wipe his beard with.
(I am sure it was your wiues) did I to day
See Cassio wipe his Beard with
If it be that--
If it be that, or any that was hers,
It speaks against her with the other proofs.
It speakes against her with the other proofes
O, that the slave had forty thousand lives!
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.
Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago;
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven.
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,500
For 'tis of aspics' tongues!
One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge.
Now do I see 'tis true. Looke heere Iago,
All my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone.
Arise blacke vengeance, from the hollow hell,
Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and hearted Throne
To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosome with thy fraught,
For 'tis of Aspickes tongues
Yet be content.
O, blood, blood, blood!
Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change.
Never, Iago: Like to the Pontic sea,
Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontic and the Hellespont,
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,510
Till that a capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven,
In the due reverence of a sacred vow
I here engage my words.
Whose Icie Current, and compulsiue course,
Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due on
To the Proponticke, and the Hellespont:
Euen so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace
Shall neu'r looke backe, neu'r ebbe to humble Loue,
Till that a capeable, and wide Reuenge
Swallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen,
In the due reuerence of a Sacred vow,
I heere engage my words
Do not rise yet.
Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
You elements that clip us round about,
Witness that here Iago doth give up
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command,520
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
What bloody business ever.
Witnesse you euer-burning Lights aboue,
You Elements, that clip vs round about,
Witnesse that heere Iago doth giue vp
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
What bloody businesse euer
I greet thy love,
Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will upon the instant put thee to't:
Within these three days let me hear thee say
That Cassio's not alive.
Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will vpon the instant put thee too't.
Within these three dayes let me heare thee say,
That Cassio's not aliue
My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:
But let her live.
'Tis done at your Request.
But let her liue
Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!530
Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,
To furnish me with some swift means of death
For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.
O damne her, damne her.
Come go with me a-part, I will withdraw
To furnish me with some swift meanes of death
For the faire Diuell.
Now art thou my Lieutenant
I am your own for ever.
Act III. Scene IV. Before the castle.
Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown
Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?
Enter Desdemona, aemilia, and Clown.
I dare not say he lies any where.
He's a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies,
Go to: where lodges he?
To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie.
Can any thing be made of this?
I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a10
lodging and say he lies here or he lies there, were
to lie in mine own throat.
a lodging, and say he lies heere, or he lies there, were
to lye in mine owne throat
Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?
I will catechise the world for him; that is, make
questions, and by them answer.
Questions, and by them answer
Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have
moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well.
haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will
To do this is within the compass of man's wit: and
therefore I will attempt the doing it.
and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?
I know not, madam.
Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor
Is true of mind and made of no such baseness
As jealous creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill thinking.
Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore
Is true of minde, and made of no such basenesse,
As iealious Creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill-thinking.
Is he not jealous?
Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
Drew all such humours from him.
Drew all such humors from him.
Look, where he comes.
I will not leave him now till Cassio
Be call'd to him.
How is't with you, my lord
Call'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord?
Well, my good lady.
O, hardness to dissemble!--
How do you, Desdemona?
How do you, Desdemona?
Well, my good lord.
Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.
This hand is moist, my Lady
It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.
This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:40
Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
Much castigation, exercise devout;
For here's a young and sweating devil here,
That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
A frank one.
Hot, hot, and moyst. This hand of yours requires
A sequester from Liberty: Fasting, and Prayer,
Much Castigation, Exercise deuout,
For heere's a yong, and sweating Diuell heere
That commonly rebels: 'Tis a good hand,
A franke one
You may, indeed, say so;
For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.
For 'twas that hand that gaue away my heart
A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts
I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.
Come, now your promise
What promise, chuck?
I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;
Lend me thy handkerchief.
Lend me thy Handkerchiefe
Here, my lord.
That which I gave you.
I have it not about me.
No, indeed, my lord.
That is a fault.
Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
She was a charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people: she told her, while
she kept it,
'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father
Entirely to her love, but if she lost it
Or made gift of it, my father's eye
Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt70
After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me;
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
To give it her. I did so: and take heed on't;
Make it a darling like your precious eye;
To lose't or give't away were such perdition
As nothing else could match.
Did an aegyptian to my Mother giue:
She was a Charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it,
'T would make her Amiable, and subdue my Father
Intirely to her loue: But if she lost it,
Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eye
Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt
After new Fancies. She dying, gaue it me,
And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd)
To giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't,
Make it a Darling, like your precious eye:
To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match
'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it:
A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
The sun to course two hundred compasses,80
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work;
The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk;
And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful
Conserved of maidens' hearts.
A Sybill that had numbred in the world
The Sun to course, two hundred compasses,
In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke:
The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke,
And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull
Conseru'd of Maidens hearts
Indeed! is't true?
Most veritable; therefore look to't well.
Then would to God that I had never seen't!
Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out90
o' the way?
Heaven bless us!
It is not lost; but what an if it were?
I say, it is not lost.
Fetch't, let me see't.
Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.
This is a trick to put me from my suit:
Pray you, let Cassio be received again.
This is a tricke to put me from my suite,
Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe
Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives.
My minde mis-giues
You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
I pray, talk me of Cassio.
A man that all his time
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,
Shared dangers with you,--
Hath founded his good Fortunes on your loue;
Shar'd dangers with you
In sooth, you are to blame.
Is not this man jealous?
I ne'er saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe,
I am most vnhappy in the losse of it.
'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
To eat us hungerly, and when they are full,
They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband!
They are all but Stomackes, and we all but Food,
They eate vs hungerly, and when they are full
They belch vs.
Enter Iago, and Cassio.
Looke you, Cassio and my Husband
Enter Cassio and Iago
There is no other way; 'tis she must do't:
And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her.
And loe the happinesse: go, and importune her
How now, good Cassio! what's the news with you?
Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you
That by your virtuous means I may again
Exist, and be a member of his love
Whom I with all the office of my heart
Entirely honour: I would not be delay'd.
If my offence be of such mortal kind
That nor my service past, nor present sorrows,130
Nor purposed merit in futurity,
Can ransom me into his love again,
But to know so must be my benefit;
So shall I clothe me in a forced content,
And shut myself up in some other course,
To fortune's alms.
That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe
Exist, and be a member of his loue,
Whom I, with all the Office of my heart
Intirely honour, I would not be delayd.
If my offence, be of such mortall kinde,
That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,
Can ransome me into his loue againe,
But to know so, must be my benefit:
So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content,
And shut my selfe vp in some other course
To Fortunes Almes
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.140
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.
My Aduocation is not now in Tune;
My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him,
Were he in Fauour, as in Humour alter'd.
So helpe me euery spirit sanctified,
As I haue spoken for you all my best,
And stood within the blanke of his displeasure
For my free speech. You must awhile be patient:
What I can do, I will: and more I will
Then for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you
Is my lord angry?
He went hence but now,
And certainly in strange unquietness.
And certainly in strange vnquietnesse
Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon,150
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.
When it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre,
And like the Diuell from his very Arme
Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry?
Something of moment then: I will go meet him,
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
I prithee, do so.
Something, sure, of state,
Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practise
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
Hath puddled his clear spirit: and in such cases160
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 observances
As fit 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,170
And he's indicted falsely.
Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practise
Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him,
Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases,
Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things,
Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so.
For let our finger ake, and it endues
Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense
Of paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods,
Nor of them looke for such obseruancie
As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia,
I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am)
Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule:
But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse,
And he's Indited falsely.
Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think,
And no conception nor no jealous toy
State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception,
Nor no Iealious Toy, concerning you
Alas the day! I never gave him cause.
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.
They are not euer iealious for the cause,
But iealious, for they're iealious. It is a Monster
Begot vpon it selfe, borne on it selfe
Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind!
I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout:
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit
And seek to effect it to my uttermost.
If I doe finde him fit, Ile moue your suite,
And seeke to effect it to my vttermost.
I humbly thank your ladyship.
Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia
Save you, friend Cassio!
What make you from home?
How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?
I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.
How is't with you, my most faire Bianca?
Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house
And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.190
What, keep a week away? seven days and nights?
Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours,
More tedious than the dial eight score times?
O weary reckoning!
What? keepe a weeke away? Seuen dayes, and Nights?
Eight score eight houres? And Louers absent howres
More tedious then the Diall, eight score times?
Oh weary reck'ning
Pardon me, Bianca:
I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd:
But I shall, in a more continuate time,
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,
Giving her Desdemona's handkerchief
Take me this work out.
I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest,
But I shall in a more continuate time
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca
Take me this worke out
O Cassio, whence came this?200
This is some token from a newer friend:
To the felt absence now I feel a cause:
Is't come to this? Well, well.
This is some Token from a newer Friend,
To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause:
Is't come to this? Well, well
Go to, woman!
Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
From whence you have them. You are jealous now
That this is from some mistress, some remembrance:
No, in good troth, Bianca.
Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth,
From whence you haue them. You are iealious now,
That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance;
No, in good troth Bianca
Why, whose is it?
I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber.210
I like the work well: ere it be demanded--
As like enough it will--I'ld have it copied:
Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time.
I found it in my Chamber,
I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded
(As like enough it will) I would haue it coppied:
Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time
Leave you! wherefore?
I do attend here on the general;
And think it no addition, nor my wish,
To have him see me woman'd.
And thinke it no addition, nor my wish
To haue him see me woman'd
Why, I pray you?
Not that I love you not.
But that you do not love me.220
I pray you, bring me on the way a little,
And say if I shall see you soon at night.
I pray you bring me on the way a little,
And say, if I shall see you soone at night?
'Tis but a little way that I can bring you;
For I attend here: but I'll see you soon.
For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone
'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced.
Act IV. Scene I. Cyprus. Before the castle.
Enter Othello and Iago
Will you think so?
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Othello, and Iago.
Think so, Iago!
To kiss in private?
An unauthorized kiss.
Or to be naked with her friend in bed
An hour or more, not meaning any harm?
An houre, or more, not meaning any harme?
Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm!
It is hypocrisy against the devil:10
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.
It is hypocrisie against the Diuell:
They that meane vertuously, and yet do so,
The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen
So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip:
But if I give my wife a handkerchief,--
But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe
Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord; and, being hers,
She may, I think, bestow't on any man.
She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man
She is protectress of her honour too:
May she give that?
May she giue that?
Her honour is an essence that's not seen;20
They have it very oft that have it not:
But, for the handkerchief,--
They haue it very oft, that haue it not.
But for the Handkerchiefe
By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it.
Thou said'st, it comes o'er my memory,
As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
Boding to all--he had my handkerchief.
Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie,
As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house:
Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe
Ay, what of that?
That's not so good now.
If I had said I had seen him do you wrong?30
Or heard him say,--as knaves be such abroad,
Who having, by their own importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose
But they must blab--
Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad,
Who hauing by their owne importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris,
Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse
But they must blab.)
Hath he said any thing?
He hath, my lord; but be you well assured,
No more than he'll unswear.
No more then he'le vn-sweare
What hath he said?
'Faith, that he did--I know not what he did.
With her, on her; what you will.
Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when
they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome.
confess, and be hanged for his labour;--first, to be
hanged, and then to confess.--I tremble at it.
Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing50
passion without some instruction. It is not words
that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips.
--Is't possible?--Confess--handkerchief!--O devil!--
Falls in a trance
when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome:
Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse,
and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd,
and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not
inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some
Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish)
Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe?
Falls in a Traunce.
My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught;
And many worthy and chaste dames even thus,
All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord!
My lord, I say! Othello!
How now, Cassio!
My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught,
And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus,
(All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord?
My Lord, I say: Othello.
How now Cassio?
What's the matter?
My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy:
This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.
This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday
Rub him about the temples.
The lethargy must have his quiet course:
If not, he foams at mouth and by and by
Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs:
Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
He will recover straight: when he is gone,
I would on great occasion speak with you.
How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?
If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by
Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres:
Do you withdraw your selfe a little while,
He will recouer straight: when he is gone,
I would on great occasion, speake with you.
How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head?
Dost thou mock me?
I mock you! no, by heaven.
Would you would bear your fortune like a man!
Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man
A horned man's a monster and a beast.
There's many a beast then in a populous city,
And many a civil monster.
And many a ciuill Monster
Did he confess it?
Good sir, be a man;
Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked80
May draw with you: there's millions now alive
That nightly lie in those unproper beds
Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better.
O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure couch,
And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know;
And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.
Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd
May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue,
That nightly lye in those vnproper beds,
Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better.
Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch;
And to suppose her chast. No, let me know,
And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe
O, thou art wise; 'tis certain.
Stand you awhile apart;
Confine yourself but in a patient list.90
Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief--
A passion most unsuiting such a man--
Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,
And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy,
Bade him anon return and here speak with me;
The which he promised. Do but encave yourself,
And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns,
That dwell in every region of his face;
For I will make him tell the tale anew,
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when100
He hath, and is again to cope your wife:
I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;
Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen,
And nothing of a man.
Confine your selfe but in a patient List,
Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe
(A passion most resulting such a man)
Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,
And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie,
Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me,
The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe,
And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes
That dwell in euery Region of his face.
For I will make him tell the Tale anew;
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
He hath, and is againe to cope your wife.
I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience,
Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene,
And nothing of a man
Dost thou hear, Iago?
I will be found most cunning in my patience;
But--dost thou hear?--most bloody.
I will be found most cunning in my Patience:
But (do'st thou heare) most bloody
That's not amiss;
But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,110
A housewife that by selling her desires
Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature
That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's plague
To beguile many and be beguiled by one:
He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain
From the excess of laughter. Here he comes:
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;
And his unbookish jealousy must construe
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures and light behavior,
Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieutenant?
But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw?
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
A Huswife that by selling her desires
Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature
That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague
To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one)
He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine
From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes.
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad:
And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue
Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours
Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?
The worser that you give me the addition
Whose want even kills me.
Whose want euen killes me
Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't.
Now, if this suit lay in Bianco's power,
How quickly should you speed!
Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre,
How quickely should you speed?
Alas, poor caitiff!
Look, how he laughs already!
I never knew woman love man so.
Alas, poor rogue! I think, i' faith, she loves me.
Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.
Do you hear, Cassio?
Now he importunes him
To tell it o'er: go to; well said, well said.
To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said
She gives it out that you shall marry hey:
Do you intend it?
Do you intend it?
Ha, ha, ha!
Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?
I marry her! what? a customer! Prithee, bear some
charity to my wit: do not think it so unwholesome.
Ha, ha, ha!
Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it
So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha
So, so, so, so: they laugh that win.
'Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.
Prithee, say true.
I am a very villain else.
Have you scored me? Well.
This is the monkey's own giving out: she is
persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and
flattery, not out of my promise.
She is perswaded I will marry her
Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise
Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.
She was here even now; she haunts me in every place.150
I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with
certain Venetians; and thither comes the bauble,
and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck--
place. I was the other day talking on the Seabanke
with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the
Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck
Crying 'O dear Cassio!' as it were: his gesture
So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales,
and pulls me: ha, ha, ha!
So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha
Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O,
I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall
throw it to.
oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dogge, I
shall throw it to
Well, I must leave her company.
Before me! look, where she comes.
'Tis such another fitchew! marry a perfumed one.
What do you mean by this haunting of me?
What do you meane by this haunting of me?
Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you
mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now?
I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the
work?--A likely piece of work, that you should find
it in your chamber, and not know who left it there!
This is some minx's token, and I must take out the170
work? There; give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever
you had it, I'll take out no work on't.
did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue
me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take
out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should
finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there.
This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke?
There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had
it, Ile take out no worke on't
How now, my sweet Bianca! how now! how now!
How now? How now?
By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!
An you'll come to supper toight, you may; an you
will not, come when you are next prepared for.
you will not come when you are next prepar'd for.
After her, after her.
'Faith, I must; she'll rail in the street else.
Will you sup there?
'Faith, I intend so.
Well, I may chance to see you; for I would very fain
speak with you.
faine speake with you
Prithee, come; will you?
Go to; say no more.
[Advancing] How shall I murder him, Iago?
Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?
And did you see the handkerchief?
Was that mine?
Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the190
foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he
hath given it his whore.
the foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him and, he
hath giu'n it his whore
I would have him nine years a-killing.
A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman!
A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman?
Nay, you must forget that.
Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned toight;
for she shall not live: no, my heart is turned to
stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the
world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by
an emperor's side and command him tasks.
night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to
stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world
hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an Emperours
side, and command him Taskes
Nay, that's not your way.
Hang her! I do but say what she is: so delicate
with her needle: an admirable musician: O! she
will sing the savageness out of a bear: of so high
and plenteous wit and invention:--
with her Needle: an admirable Musitian. Oh she will
sing the Sauagenesse out of a Beare: of so high and plenteous
wit, and inuention?
She's the worse for all this.
O, a thousand thousand times: and then, of so
gentle a condition!
And then of so gentle a condition?
Ay, too gentle.
Nay, that's certain: but yet the pity of it, Iago!210
O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!
But yet the pitty of it, Iago: oh Iago, the pitty of it
If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her
patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes
pattent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere
I will chop her into messes: cuckold me!
O, 'tis foul in her.
With mine officer!
Get me some poison, Iago; this night: I'll not
expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty220
unprovide my mind again: this night, Iago.
expostulate with her: least her body and beautie vnprouide
my mind againe: this night Iago
Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even
the bed she hath contaminated.
Euen the bed she hath contaminated
Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very good.
The Iustice of it pleases: very good
And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you
shall hear more by midnight.
You shall heare more by midnight.
A trumpet within
What trumpet is that same?
Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants.
Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico
Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him.
'Tis Lodouico, this, comes from the Duke.
See, your wife's with him
Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and attendants
Save you, worthy general!
With all my heart, sir.
The duke and senators of Venice greet you.
Gives him a letter
I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
Opens the letter, and reads
And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?
I am very glad to see you, signior
Welcome to Cyprus.
Welcome to Cyprus
I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?
Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord240
An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.
An vnkind breach: but you shall make all well
Are you sure of that?
[Reads] 'This fail you not to do, as you will--'
He did not call; he's busy in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?
Is there deuision 'twixt my Lord, and Cassio?
A most unhappy one: I would do much
To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.
T' attone, them, for the loue I beare to Cassio
Fire and brimstone!
Are you wise?
What, is he angry?
May be the letter moved him;
For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.
For as I thinke, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his Gouernment
Trust me, I am glad on't.
I am glad to see you mad.
Why, sweet Othello,--
[Striking her] Devil!
I have not deserved this.
My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much:
Make her amends; she weeps.
Though I should sweare I saw't. 'Tis very much,
Make her amends: she weepes
O devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!
If that the Earth could teeme with womans teares,
Each drop she falls, would proue a Crocodile:
Out of my sight
I will not stay to offend you.
Truly, an obedient lady:
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.
I do beseech your Lordship call her backe
What would you with her, sir?
Who, I, my lord?
Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn:
Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
And she's obedient, as you say, obedient,280
Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears.
Concerning this, sir,--O well-painted passion!--
I am commanded home. Get you away;
I'll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt!
Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight,
I do entreat that we may sup together:
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.--Goats and monkeys!
Sir, she can turne, and turne: and yet go on
And turne againe. And she can weepe, Sir, weepe.
And she's obedient: as you say obedient.
Very obedient: proceed you in your teares.
Concerning this Sir, (oh well-painted passion)
I am commanded home: get you away:
Ile send for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate,
And will returne to Venice. Hence, auaunt:
Cassio shall haue my Place. And Sir, to night
I do entreat, that we may sup together.
You are welcome Sir to Cyprus.
Goates, and Monkeys.
Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature290
Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither graze nor pierce?
Call all in all sufficient? Is this the Nature
Whom Passion could not shake? Whose solid vertue
The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance
Could neither graze, nor pierce?
He is much changed.
Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?
He's that he is: I may not breathe my censure
What he might be: if what he might he is not,
I would to heaven he were!
What he might be: if what he might, he is not,
I would to heauen he were
What, strike his wife!
'Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew300
That stroke would prove the worst!
That stroke would proue the worst
Is it his use?
Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new-create this fault?
Or did the Letters, worke vpon his blood,
And new create his fault?
It is not honesty in me to speak
What I have seen and known. You shall observe him,
And his own courses will denote him so
That I may save my speech: do but go after,
And mark how he continues.
It is not honestie in me to speake
What I haue seene, and knowne. You shall obserue him,
And his owne courses will denote him so,
That I may saue my speech: do but go after
And marke how he continues
I am sorry that I am deceived in him.
Act IV. Scene II. A room in the castle.
Enter Othello and Emilia
You have seen nothing then?
Enter Othello and aemilia.
Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.
Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
But then I saw no harm, and then I heard
Each syllable that breath made up between them.
Each syllable that breath made vp betweene them
What, did they never whisper?
Never, my lord.
Nor send you out o' the way?
To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
Never, my lord.
I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,
Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch have put this in your head,
Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy; the purest of their wives20
Is foul as slander.
Lay downe my Soule at stake: If you thinke other,
Remoue your thought. It doth abuse your bosome:
If any wretch haue put this in your head,
Let Heauen requit it with the Serpents curse,
For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy. The purest of their Wiues
Is foule as Slander
Bid her come hither: go.
She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
A closet lock and key of villanous secrets
And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't.
She saies enough: yet she's a simple Baud
That cannot say as much. This is a subtile Whore:
A Closset Locke and Key of Villanous Secrets,
And yet she'le kneele, and pray: I haue seene her do't.
Enter Desdemona with Emilia
My lord, what is your will?
Enter Desdemona, and aemilia.
Pray, chuck, come hither.
What is your pleasure?
Let me see your eyes;30
Look in my face.
What horrible fancy's this?
[To Emilia] Some of your function, mistress;
Leave procreants alone and shut the door;
Cough, or cry 'hem,' if any body come:
Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch.
Leaue Procreants alone, and shut the doore:
Cough, or cry hem; if any body come:
Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.
Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words.
But not the words.
I vnderstand a Fury in your words
Why, what art thou?
Your wife, my lord; your true
And loyal wife.
Come, swear it, damn thyself
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double damn'd:
Swear thou art honest.
being like one of Heauen, the diuells themselues should
feare to ceaze thee. Therefore be double damn'd: sweare
thou art honest
Heaven doth truly know it.
Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.
To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?
With whom? How am I false?
O Desdemona! away! away! away!
Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
If haply you my father do suspect
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me: If you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.
Am I the motiue of these teares my Lord?
If happely you my Father do suspect,
An Instrument of this your calling backe,
Lay not your blame on me: if you haue lost him,
I haue lost him too
Had it pleased heaven
To try me with affliction; had they rain'd
All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head.
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,60
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
I should have found in some place of my soul
A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me
A fixed figure for the time of scorn
To point his slow unmoving finger at!
Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!70
Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,--
Ay, there, look grim as hell!
To try me with Affliction, had they rain'd
All kind of Sores, and Shames on my bare-head:
Steep'd me in pouertie to the very lippes.
Giuen to Captiuitie, me, and my vtmost hopes,
I should haue found in some place of my Soule
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne,
To point his slow, and mouing finger at.
Yet could I beare that too, well, very well:
But there where I haue garnerd vp my heart,
Where either I must liue, or beare no life,
The Fountaine from the which my currant runnes,
Or else dries vp: to be discarded thence,
Or keepe it as a Cesterne, for foule Toades
To knot and gender in. Turne thy complexion there:
Patience, thou young and Rose-lip'd Cherubin,
I heere looke grim as hell
I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst
ne'er been born!
That quicken euen with blowing. Oh thou weed:
Who art so louely faire, and smell'st so sweete,
That the Sense akes at thee,
Would thou had'st neuer bin borne
Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write 'whore' upon? What committed!
Committed! O thou public commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks,
The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,90
And will not hear it. What committed!
Made to write Whore vpon? What commited,
Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner,
I should make very Forges of my cheekes,
That would to Cynders burne vp Modestie,
Did I but speake thy deedes. What commited?
Heauen stoppes the Nose at it, and the Moone winks:
The baudy winde that kisses all it meetes,
Is hush'd within the hollow Myne of Earth
And will not hear't. What commited?
By heaven, you do me wrong.
Are you not a strumpet?
No, as I am a Christian:
If to preserve this vessel for my lord
From any other foul unlawful touch
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.
If to preserue this vessell for my Lord,
From any other foule vnlawfull touch
Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none
What, not a whore?
No, as I shall be saved.
O, heaven forgive us!
I cry you mercy, then:
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello.
Raising his voice
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell!
You, you, ay, you!
We have done our course; there's money for your pains:110
I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel.
I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice,
That married with Othello. You Mistris,
That haue the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keepes the gate of hell. You, you: I you.
We haue done our course: there's money for your paines:
I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsaile.
Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady?
'Faith, half asleep.
Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?
What's the matter with my Lord?
Why, with my lord, madam.
Who is thy lord?
He that is yours, sweet lady.
I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia;120
I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,
But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember;
And call thy husband hither.
I cannot weepe: nor answeres haue I none,
But what should go by water. Prythee to night,
Lay on my bed my wedding sheetes, remember,
And call thy husband hither.
Here's a change indeed!
'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
How have I been behaved, that he might stick
The small'st opinion on my least misuse?
How haue I bin behau'd, that he might sticke
The small'st opinion on my least misvse?
Enter Emilia with Iago
What is your pleasure, madam?
How is't with you?
Enter Iago, and aemilia.
How is't with you?
I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes
Do it with gentle means and easy tasks:
He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,
I am a child to chiding.
Do it with gentle meanes, and easie taskes.
He might haue chid me so; for in good faith
I am a Child to chiding
What's the matter, lady?
Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her.
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
As true hearts cannot bear.
Throwne such dispight, and heauy termes vpon her
That true hearts cannot beare it
Am I that name, Iago?
What name, fair lady?
Such as she says my lord did say I was.
He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink
Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.
Could not haue laid such termes vpon his Callet
Why did he so?
I do not know; I am sure I am none such.
Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!
Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father and her country and her friends,
To be call'd whore? would it not make one weep?
Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends?
To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weepe?
It is my wretched fortune.
Beshrew him for't!
How comes this trick upon him?
How comes this Tricke vpon him?
Nay, heaven doth know.
I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else.
Some busie and insinuating Rogue,
Some cogging, cozening Slaue, to get some Office,
Haue not deuis'd this Slander: I will be hang'd else
Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible.
If any such there be, heaven pardon him!
A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones!160
Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company?
What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?
The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold,
And put in every honest hand a whip
To lash the rascals naked through the world
Even from the east to the west!
And hell gnaw his bones.
Why should he call her Whore?
Who keepes her companie?
What Place? What Time?
What Forme? What liklyhood?
The Moore's abus'd by some most villanous Knaue,
Some base notorious Knaue, some scuruy Fellow.
Oh Heauens, that such companions thou'd'st vnfold,
And put in euery honest hand a whip
To lash the Rascalls naked through the world,
Euen from the East to th' West
Speak within door.
O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was170
That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
That turn'd your wit, the seamy-side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moore
You are a fool; go to.
O good Iago,
What shall I do to win my lord again?
Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven,
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,180
Delighted them in any other form;
Or that I do not yet, and ever did.
And ever will--though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement--love him dearly,
Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much;
And his unkindness may defeat my life,
But never taint my love. I cannot say 'whore:'
It does abhor me now I speak the word;
To do the act that might the addition earn
Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.
What shall I do to win my Lord againe?
Good Friend, go to him: for by this light of Heauen,
I know not how I lost him. Heere I kneele:
If ere my will did trespasse 'gainst his Loue,
Either in discourse of thought, or actuall deed,
Or that mine Eyes, mine Eares, or any Sence
Delighted them: or any other Forme.
Or that I do not yet, and euer did,
And euer will, (though he do shake me off
To beggerly diuorcement) Loue him deerely,
Comfort forsweare me. Vnkindnesse may do much,
And his vnkindnesse may defeat my life,
But neuer taynt my Loue. I cannot say Whore,
It do's abhorre me now I speake the word,
To do the Act, that might the addition earne,
Not the worlds Masse of vanitie could make me
I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour:
The business of the state does him offence,
And he does chide with you.
The businesse of the State do's him offence
If 'twere no other--
'Tis but so, I warrant.
Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
The messengers of Venice stay the meat;
Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.
Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia
How now, Roderigo!
Hearke how these Instruments summon to supper:
The Messengers of Venice staies the meate,
Go in, and weepe not: all things shall be well.
Exeunt. Desdemona and aemilia.
How now Rodorigo?
I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.
That thou deal'st iustly with me
What in the contrary?
Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago;
and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me
all conveniency than suppliest me with the least
advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure
it, nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what
already I have foolishly suffered.
Iago, and rather, as it seemes to me now, keep'st from
me all conueniencie, then suppliest me with the least aduantage
of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor
am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already I
haue foolishly suffred
Will you hear me, Roderigo?
'Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and
performances are no kin together.
Performances are no kin together
You charge me most unjustly.
With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of
my means. The jewels you have had from me to
deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a
votarist: you have told me she hath received them
and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden
respect and acquaintance, but I find none.
selfe out of my meanes. The Iewels you haue had from
me to deliuer Desdemona, would halfe haue corrupted a
Votarist. You haue told me she hath receiu'd them,
and return'd me expectations and comforts of sodaine
respect, and acquaintance, but I finde none
Well; go to; very well.
Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis
not very well: nay, I think it is scurvy, and begin220
to find myself fobbed in it.
'tis not very well. Nay I think it is scuruy: and begin to
finde my selfe fopt in it
I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself
known to Desdemona: if she will return me my
jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my
unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself I
will seek satisfaction of you.
selfe knowne to Desdemona. If she will returne me my
Iewels, I will giue ouer my Suit, and repent my vnlawfull
solicitation. If not, assure your selfe, I will seeke
satisfaction of you
You have said now.
Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing.
Why, now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from230
this instant to build on thee a better opinion than
ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: thou hast
taken against me a most just exception; but yet, I
protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair.
euen from this instant do build on thee a better opinion
then euer before: giue me thy hand Rodorigo.
Thou hast taken against me a most iust exception:
but yet I protest I haue dealt most directly in thy
It hath not appeared.
I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your
suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But,
Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I
have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean
purpose, courage and valour, this night show it: if240
thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona,
take me from this world with treachery and devise
engines for my life.
your suspition is not without wit and iudgement.
But Rodorigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which
I haue greater reason to beleeue now then euer (I
meane purpose, Courage, and Valour) this night
shew it. If thou the next night following enioy not
Desdemona, take me from this world with Treacherie,
and deuise Engines for my life
Well, what is it? is it within reason and compass?
Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice
to depute Cassio in Othello's place.
Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place
Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona
return again to Venice.
returne againe to Venice
O, no; he goes into Mauritania and takes away with
him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be250
lingered here by some accident: wherein none can be
so determinate as the removing of Cassio.
away with him the faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode
be lingred heere by some accident. Wherein
none can be so determinate, as the remouing of
How do you mean, removing of him?
Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place;
knocking out his brains.
place: knocking out his braines
And that you would have me to do?
Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right.
He sups toight with a harlotry, and thither will I
go to him: he knows not yet of his horrorable
fortune. If you will watch his going thence, which260
I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one,
you may take him at your pleasure: I will be near
to second your attempt, and he shall fall between
us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with
me; I will show you such a necessity in his death
that you shall think yourself bound to put it on
him. It is now high suppertime, and the night grows
to waste: about it.
right. He sups to night with a Harlotry: and thither
will I go to him. He knowes not yet of his Honourable
Fortune, if you will watch his going thence (which
I will fashion to fall out betweene twelue and one)
you may take him at your pleasure. I will be neere
to second your Attempt, and he shall fall betweene
vs. Come, stand not amaz'd at it, but go along with
me: I will shew you such a necessitie in his death, that
you shall thinke your selfe bound to put it on him. It
is now high supper time: and the night growes to wast.
I will hear further reason for this.
And you shall be satisfied.
Act IV. Scene III. Another room In the castle.
Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia and attendants
I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.
Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, aemilia, and Atendants.
O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk.
Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.
Your honour is most welcome.
Will you walk, sir?
Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned
forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it be done.
forthwith: dismisse your Attendant there: look't
I will, my lord.
Exeunt Othello, Lodovico, and attendants
How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.
He says he will return incontinent:
He hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you.
And hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bid me to dismisse you
It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,.
Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu:
We must not now displease him.
Giue me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.
I would you had never seen him!
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.
That euen his stubbornesse, his checks, his frownes,
(Prythee vn-pin me) haue grace and fauour
I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.
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.
If I do die before, prythee shrow'd me
In one of these same Sheetes.
Come, come you talk.
My mother had a maid call'd Barbara:
She was in love, and he she loved proved mad30
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 toight
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.
She was in loue: and he she lou'd prou'd mad,
And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough,
An old thing 'twas: but it express'd her Fortune,
And she dy'd singing it. That Song to night,
Will not go from my mind: I haue much to do,
But to go hang my head all at one side
And sing it like poore Barbarie: prythee dispatch
Shall I go fetch your night-gown?
No, unpin me here.
This Lodovico is a proper man.
This Lodouico is a proper man.
A very handsome man.
He speaks well.
I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot
to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.
barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip
[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;50
Lay by these:--
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:--
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?
Sing all a greene Willough:
Her hand on her bosome her head on her knee,
Sing Willough, Willough, Willough.
The fresh Streames ran by her, and murmur'd her moanes
Sing Willough, &c.
Her salt teares fell from her, and softned the stones,
Sing Willough, &c. (Lay by these)
Willough, Willough. (Prythee high thee: he'le come anon)
Sing all a greene Willough must be my Garland.
Let no body blame him, his scorne I approue.
(Nay that's not next. Harke, who is't that knocks?
It's the wind.
[Singing] I call'd my love false love; but what
said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:60
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?
Sing Willough, &c.
If I court mo women, you'le couch with mo men.
So get thee gone, good night: mine eyes do itch:
Doth that boade weeping?
'Tis neither here nor there.
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?
Do'st thou in conscience thinke (tell me aemilia)
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such grosse kinde?
There be some such, no question.
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
Why, would not you?
No, by this heavenly light!
Nor I neither by this heavenly light;
I might do't as well i' the dark.
I might doo't as well i'th' darke
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
The world's a huge thing: it is a great price.
For a small vice.
It is a great price, for a small vice
In troth, I think thou wouldst not.
In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I had
done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a80
joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, 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? I should venture purgatory for't.
I had done. Marry, I would not doe such a thing for a
ioynt Ring, nor for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes,
Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for
all the whole world: why, who would not make her husband
a Cuckold, to make him a Monarch? I should venture
Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
For the whole world.
For the whole world.
Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: and
having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your
own world, and you might quickly make it right.
and hauing the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in
your owne world, and you might quickly make it right
I do not think there is any such woman.
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,100
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,110
The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.
would store the world they plaid for.
But I do thinke it is their Husbands faults
If Wiues do fall: (Say, that they slacke their duties,
And powre our Treasures into forraigne laps;
Or else breake out in peeuish Iealousies,
Throwing restraint vpon vs: Or say they strike vs,
Or scant our former hauing in despight)
Why we haue galles: and though we haue some Grace,
Yet haue we some Reuenge. Let Husbands know,
Their wiues haue sense like them: They see, and smell,
And haue their Palats both for sweet, and sowre,
As Husbands haue. What is it that they do,
When they change vs for others? Is it Sport?
I thinke it is: and doth Affection breed it?
I thinke it doth. Is't Frailty that thus erres?
It is so too. And haue not we Affections?
Desires for Sport? and Frailty, as men haue?
Then let them vse vs well: else let them know,
The illes we do, their illes instruct vs so
Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send,
Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!
Heauen me such vses send,
Not to picke bad, from bad; but by bad, mend.
Act V. Scene I. Cyprus. A street.
Enter Iago and Roderigo
Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come:
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home:
Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow:
It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Iago, and Rodorigo.
Straight will he come:
Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home:
Quicke, quicke, feare nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow,
It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on that,
And fixe most firme thy Resolution
Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't.
Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand.
I have no great devotion to the deed;
And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons:10
'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies.
And yet he hath giuen me satisfying Reasons:
'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies
I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense,
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him,
As gifts to Desdemona;
It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life20
That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril:
No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming.
And he growes angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo,
He calles me to a restitution large
Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him,
As Guifts to Desdemona.
It must not be: If Cassio do remaine,
He hath a dayly beauty in his life,
That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore
May vnfold me to him: there stand I in much perill:
No, he must dye. But so, I heard him comming.
I know his gait, 'tis he.--Villain, thou diest!
Makes a pass at Cassio
That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou know'st
I will make proof of thine.
Draws, and wounds Roderigo
But that my Coate is better then thou know'st:
I will make proofe of thine
O, I am slain!
Iago from behind wounds Cassio in the leg, and exit
I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder!
Helpe hoa: Murther, murther.
The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word.
O, villain that I am!
It is even so.
O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!
'Tis he:--O brave Iago, honest and just,
That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong!
Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,
And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come.
Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;
Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted.
That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong,
Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes dead,
And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come:
For of my heart, those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted.
Thy Bed lust-stain'd, shall with Lusts blood bee spotted.
Enter Lodovico and Gratiano
What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder!
Enter Lodouico and Gratiano.
'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.
O wretched villain!
Two or three groan: it is a heavy night:
These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe
To come in to the cry without more help.
These may be counterfeits: Let's think't vnsafe
To come into the cry, without more helpe
Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.
Enter Iago, with a light
Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.
Who's there? whose noise is this that ones on murder?
Who's noyse is this that cries on murther?
We do not know.
Did not you hear a cry?
Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me!
What's the matter?
This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.
The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.
What are you here that cry so grievously?
Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
Give me some help.
Giue me some helpe
O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this?
What Villaines haue done this?
I think that one of them is hereabout,
And cannot make away.
And cannot make away
O treacherous villains!
What are you there? come in, and give some help.
To Lodovico and Gratiano
What are you there? Come in, and giue some helpe
O, help me here!
That's one of them.
O murderous slave! O villain!
O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!
Kill men i' the dark!--Where be these bloody thieves?--70
How silent is this town!--Ho! murder! murder!--
What may you be? are you of good or evil?
Where be these bloody Theeues?
How silent is this Towne? Hoa, murther, murther.
What may you be? Are you of good, or euill?
As you shall prove us, praise us.
I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains.
How is't, brother!
My leg is cut in two.
Marry, heaven forbid!80
Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.
Light Gentlemen, Ile binde it with my shirt.
What is the matter, ho? who is't that cried?
Who is't that cried!
O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O Cassio,
My sweet Cassio: Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio
O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be that have thus many led you?
Who they should be, that haue thus mangled you?
I am to find you thus: I have been to seek you.
I haue beene to seeke you
Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair,90
To bear him easily hence!
To beare him easily hence
Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
To be a party in this injury.
Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
Lend me a light. Know we this face or no?
Alas my friend and my dear countryman
Roderigo! no:--yes, sure: O heaven! Roderigo.
To be a party in this Iniurie.
Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no?
Alas my Friend, and my deere Countryman
Rodorigo? No: Yes sure: Yes, 'tis Rodorigo
What, of Venice?
Even he, sir; did you know him?
Know him! ay.
Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon;
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
That so neglected you.
These bloody accidents must excuse my Manners,
That so neglected you
I am glad to see you.
How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair!
He, he 'tis he.
A chair brought in
O, that's well said; the chair!
Some good man bear him carefully from hence;110
I'll fetch the general's surgeon.
For you, mistress,
Save you your labour. He that lies slain
Was my dear friend: what malice was between you?
Oh that's well said, the Chaire.
Some good man beare him carefully from hence,
Ile fetch the Generall's Surgeon. For you Mistris,
Saue you your labour. He that lies slaine heere (Cassio)
Was my deere friend. What malice was between you
None in the world; nor do I know the man.
What, look you pale? O, bear him out
o' the air.
Cassio and Roderigo are borne off
Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?120
Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her:
Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak,
Though tongues were out of use.
Stay you good Gentlemen. Looke you pale, Mistris?
Do you perceiue the gastnesse of her eye?
Nay, if you stare, we shall heare more anon.
Behold her well: I pray you looke vpon her:
Do you see Gentlemen? Nay, guiltinesse will speake
Though tongues were out of vse.
'Las, what's the matter? what's the matter, husband?
What is the matter, Husband?
Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped:
He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
By Rodorigo, and Fellowes that are scap'd:
He's almost slaine, and Rodorigo quite dead.
Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!
This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,130
Go know of Cassio where he supp'd toight.
What, do you shake at that?
Go know of Cassio where he supt to night.
What, do you shake at that?
He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.
O, did he so? I charge you, go with me.
Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!
I am no strumpet; but of life as honest
As you that thus abuse me.
As you that thus abuse me.
As I! foh! fie upon thee!
Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd.
Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.140
Emilia run you to the citadel,
And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd.
Will you go on? I pray.
This is the night
That either makes me or fordoes me quite.
Let's go see poore Cassio drest.
Come Mistris, you must tel's another Tale.
aemilia, run you to the Cittadell,
And tell my Lord and Lady, what hath happ'd:
Will you go on afore? This is the night
That either makes me, or foredoes me quight.
Act V. Scene II. A bedchamber in the castle: Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning.
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,--
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!--
It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood;
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out the light:
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,10
Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again.
It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the tree.
Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword! One more, one more.
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after. One more, and this the last:20
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly;
It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.
Enter Othello, and Desdemona in her bed.
Let me not name it to you, you chaste Starres,
It is the Cause. Yet Ile not shed her blood,
Nor scarre that whiter skin of hers, then Snow,
And smooth as Monumentall Alablaster:
Yet she must dye, else shee'l betray more men:
Put out the Light, and then put out the Light:
If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister,
I can againe thy former light restore,
Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light,
Thou cunning'st Patterne of excelling Nature,
I know not where is that Promethaean heate
That can thy Light re-Lume.
When I haue pluck'd thy Rose,
I cannot giue it vitall growth againe,
It needs must wither. Ile smell thee on the Tree.
Oh Balmy breath, that dost almost perswade
Iustice to breake her Sword. One more, one more:
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And loue thee after. One more, and that's the last.
So sweet, was ne're so fatall. I must weepe,
But they are cruell Teares: This sorrow's heauenly,
It strikes, where it doth loue. She wakes
Who's there? Othello?
Will you come to bed, my lord?
Have you pray'd toight, Desdemona?
Ay, my lord.
If you bethink yourself of any crime
Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,30
Solicit for it straight.
Vnreconcil'd as yet to Heauen, and Grace,
Solicite for it straight
Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that?
What may you meane by that?
Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by:
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.
I would not kill thy vnprepared Spirit,
No, Heauens fore-fend) I would not kill thy Soule
Talk you of killing?
Ay, I do.
Have mercy on me!
Amen, with all my heart!
If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then
When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,
Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.
When your eyes rowle so.
Why I should feare, I know not,
Since guiltinesse I know not: But yet I feele I feare
Think on thy sins.
They are loves I bear to you.
Ay, and for that thou diest.
That death's unnatural that kills for loving.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?50
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:
These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether-lip?
Some bloody passion shakes your very Frame:
These are portents: but yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me
Peace, and be still!
I will so. What's the matter?
That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee
Thou gavest to Cassio.
Which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'st to Cassio
No, by my life and soul!
Send for the man, and ask him.
And aske him
Sweet soul, take heed,60
Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed.
Thou art on thy death-bed
Ay, but not yet to die.
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
For to deny each article with oath
Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne:
For to deny each Article with Oath,
Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception
That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye
Then Lord have mercy on me!
I say, amen.
And have you mercy too! I never did70
Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio
But with such general warranty of heaven
As I might love: I never gave him token.
Offend you in my life: neuer lou'd Cassio,
But with such generall warrantie of Heauen,
As I might loue. I neuer gaue him Token
By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand.
O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart,
And makest me call what I intend to do
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice:
I saw the handkerchief.
O periur'd woman, thou do'st stone my heart,
And makes me call, what I intend to do,
A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice.
I saw the Handkerchiefe
He found it then;
I never gave it him: send for him hither;80
Let him confess a truth.
I neuer gaue it him: Send, for him hither:
Let him confesse a truth
He hath confess'd.
What, my lord?
That he hath used thee.
He will not say so.
No, his mouth is stopp'd;
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.
Honest Iago hath 'tane order for't
O! my fear interprets: what, is he dead?
Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.
Had stomacke for them all
Alas! he is betray'd and I undone.
Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face?
O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!
Kill me to-morrow: let me live toight!
Nay, if you strive--
But half an hour!
Being done, there is no pause.
But while I say one prayer!
It is too late.
He stifles her
[Within] My lord , my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord!
aemilia at the doore.
My Lord, my Lord
What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
I that am cruel am yet merciful;
I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so.
I that am cruell, am yet mercifull,
I would not haue thee linger in thy paine?
[Within] What, ho! my lord, my lord!
[Within] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you!
Yes: 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead.110
'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.--
The noise was here. Ha! no more moving?
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good?--
I think she stirs again:--no. What's best to do?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:
My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife.
O insupportable! O heavy hour!
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.
'Tis like she comes to speake of Cassio's death:
The noise was high. Hah, no more moouing?
Still as the Graue. Shall she come in? Wer't good?
I thinke she stirres againe. No, what's best to do?
If she come in, shee'l sure speake to my wife:
My wife, my wife: what wife? I haue no wife.
Oh insupportable! Oh heauy houre!
Me thinkes, it should be now a huge Eclipse
Of Sunne, and Moone; and that th' affrighted Globe
Did yawne at Alteration.
[Within] I do beseech you
That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!
That I may speake with you. Oh good my Lord
I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia;
Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw.
Where art thou?
Unlocks the door
What's the matter with thee now?
Soft, by and by, let me the Curtaines draw.
Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now?
O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done!
But now, my lord.
It is the very error of the moon;130
She comes more nearer earth than she was wont,
And makes men mad.
She comes more neerer Earth then she was wont,
And makes men mad.
Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian
A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo
And Cassio kill'd!
No, Cassio is not kill'd.
Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
And sweet Reuenge growes harsh
O, falsely, falsely murder'd!
Alas, what cry is that?
Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice.
Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again!
Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!
Helpe, helpe hoa, helpe. Oh Ladie speake againe,
Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet Mistris, speake
A guiltless death I die.
O, who hath done this deed?
Nobody; I myself. Farewell
Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell!
Commend me to my kinde Lord: oh farewell
Why, how should she be murder'd?
Alas, who knows?
You heard her say herself, it was not I.
She said so: I must needs report the truth.
She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell:
'Twas I that kill'd her.
'Twas I that kill'd her.
O, the more angel she,
And you the blacker devil!
She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.
Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.
She was false as water.
Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!
That she was false. Oh she was heauenly true
Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell:
But that I did proceed vpon iust grounds
To this extremity. Thy Husband knew it all.
That she was false to wedlock?
Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,170
If heaven would make me such another world
Of one entire and Perfect chrysolite,
I'ld not have sold her for it.
If Heauen would make me such another world,
Of one entyre and perfect Chrysolite,
I'ld not haue sold her for it.
Ay, 'twas he that told me first:
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That stickes on filthy deeds.
What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband.
I say, thy Husband.
O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love,180
My husband say that she was false!
Villany hath made mockes with loue:
My Husband say she was false?
I say thy husband: dost understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.
I say thy Husband: Do'st vnderstand the word?
My Friend, thy Husband; honest, honest Iago.
If he say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart:
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
Rot halfe a graine a day: he lyes to'th' heart,
She was too fond of her most filthy Bargaine
Do thy worst:
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven190
Than thou wast worthy her.
This deede of thine is no more worthy Heauen,
Then thou was't worthy her
Peace, you were best.