ACT 1
Scene 1
Enter Roderigo and Iago.

...know of this.
’Sblood, but you’ll not hear me!
If ever I did dream of such a matter,
Abhor me.

...in thy hate.
Despise me
If I do not. Three great ones of the city,
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Off-capped to him; and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place.
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them with a bombast circumstance,
Horribly stuffed with epithets of war,
And in conclusion,
Nonsuits my mediators. For “Certes,” says he,
“I have already chose my officer.”
And what was he?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damned 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 togèd consuls can propose
As masterly as he. Mere prattle without practice
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had th’ election;
And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds
Christened and heathen, must be beleed and calmed
By debitor and creditor. This countercaster,
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I, God bless the mark, his Moorship’s ancient.

...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 th’ first. Now, sir, be judge yourself
Whether I in any just term am affined
To love the Moor.

...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 followed. 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 naught but provender, and when he’s old, cashiered.
Whip me such honest knaves! Others there are
Who, trimmed 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 their coats,
Do themselves homage. These fellows have some soul,
And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor I would not be Iago.
In following him, I follow but myself.
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so for my peculiar end.
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In complement extern, ’tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.

...carry ’t thus!
Call up her father.
Rouse him. Make after him, poison his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,
And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies. Though that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such chances of vexation on ’t
As it may lose some color.

...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.

...Signior Brabantio, ho!
Awake! What ho, Brabantio! Thieves, thieves!
Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags!
Thieves, thieves!

...your family within?
Are your doors locked?

...ask you this?
Zounds, sir, you’re robbed. For shame, put on your gown!
Your heart is burst. You have lost half your soul.
Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise!
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you.
Arise, I say!

...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’ll
have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse,
you’ll have your nephews neigh to you, you’ll have
coursers for cousins and jennets for germans.

...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.

...art a villain.
You are a senator.

...I say, light!
to Roderigo
Farewell, for I must leave you.
It seems not meet nor wholesome to my place
To be producted, as if I stay I shall,
Against the Moor. For I do know the state,
However this may gall him with some check,
Cannot with safety cast him, for he’s embarked
With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
Which even now stands in act, that, for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have none
To lead their business. In which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,
I must show out a flag and sign of love—
Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him,
Lead to the Sagittary the raisèd search,
And there will I be with him. So, farewell.
He exits.

Scene 2

...deserve your pains.
Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches.
Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
Yet do I hold it very stuff o’ th’ conscience
To do no contrived murder. I lack iniquity
Sometimes to do me service. Nine or ten times
I had thought t’ have yerked him here under the ribs.

...as it is.
Nay, but he prated
And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
Against your Honor,
That with the little godliness I have
I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir,
Are you fast married? Be assured of this,
That the magnifico is much beloved,
And hath in his effect a voice potential
As double as the Duke’s. He will divorce you
Or put upon you what restraint or grievance
The law (with all his might to enforce it on)
Will give him cable.

...come yond?
Those are the raisèd father and his friends.
You were best go in.

...Is it they?
By Janus, I think no.

...makes he here?
Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carrack.
If it prove lawful prize, he’s made forever.

...do not understand.
He’s married.

... To who?
Marry, to—

Reenter Othello.
Come, captain, will you go?

...Officers, and Torches.
It is Brabantio. General, be advised,
He comes to bad intent.

...him, thief!
They draw their swords.
You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you.

...our statesmen be.
They exit.

Scene 3

...the valiant Moor.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers.

...know the place.
Iago and Attendants exit.

...her witness it.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Attendants.

...time. Iago—
What sayst thou, noble heart?

...do, think’st thou?
Why, go to bed and sleep.

...incontinently drown myself.
If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why,
thou silly gentleman!

...is our physician.
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.

...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 our wills. If the balance
of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise
another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our
natures would conduct us to most prepost’rous
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.

...It cannot be.
It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission
of the will. Come, be a man! Drown thyself? Drown
cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy
friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving
with cables of perdurable toughness. I could never
better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse.
Follow thou the wars; defeat thy favor 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 in
her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration
—put but money in thy purse. These Moors are
changeable in their wills. Fill thy purse with money.
The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts
shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida.
She must change for youth. When she is sated
with his body she will find the error of her choice.
Therefore, put money in thy purse. If thou wilt
needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than
drowning. Make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony
and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian
and a supersubtle Venetian be not too hard for my
wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her.
Therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself!
It is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be
hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned
and go without her.

...on the issue?
Thou art sure of me. Go, make money. I have
told thee often, and I retell thee again and again, I
hate the Moor. My cause is hearted; thine hath no
less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge
against him. If thou canst cuckold him, thou dost
thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many
events in the womb of time which will be delivered.
Traverse, go, provide thy money. We will have more
of this tomorrow. Adieu.

...i’ th’ morning?
At my lodging.

...with thee betimes.
Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

...What say you?
No more of drowning, do you hear?

...I am changed.
Go to, farewell. Put money enough in your
purse.

...all my land.
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse.
For I mine own gained 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
’Has done my office. I know not if ’t be true,
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do as if for surety. He holds me well.
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio’s a proper man. Let me see now:
To get his place and to plume up my will
In double knavery—How? how?—Let’s see.
After some time, to abuse Othello’s ear
That he is too familiar with his wife.
He hath a person and a smooth dispose
To be suspected, framed to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
And will as tenderly be led by th’ nose
As asses are.
I have ’t. It is engendered. Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light.
He exits.

ACT 2
Scene 1

...all Cyprus comfort!
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Roderigo, and Emilia.

...show of courtesy.
Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You would have enough.

...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.

...to say so.
Come on, come on! You are pictures out of door,
bells in your parlors, wildcats in your kitchens,
saints in your injuries, devils being offended, players
in your huswifery, and huswives in your beds.

...upon thee, slanderer.
Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk.
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.

...write my praise.
No, let me not.

...praise me?
O, gentle lady, do not put me to ’t,
For I am nothing if not critical.

...to the harbor?
Ay, madam.

...thou praise me?
I am about it, but indeed my invention comes
from my pate as birdlime does from frieze: it
plucks out brains and all. But my muse labors, and
thus she is delivered:
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one’s for use, the other useth it.

...black and witty?
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She’ll find a white that shall her blackness hit.

...fair and foolish?
She never yet was foolish that was fair,
For even her folly helped her to an heir.

...foul and foolish?
There’s none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.

...very malice itself?
She that was ever fair and never proud,
Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
Never lacked gold and yet went never gay,
Fled from her wish, and yet said “Now I may,”
She that being angered, 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,
See suitors following and not look behind,
She was a wight, if ever such wight were—

...To do what?
To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.

...takes Desdemona’s hand.
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 fingers to your lips? Would they were
clyster pipes for your sake!

Trumpets within.
The Moor. I know his trumpet.

...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.

...met at Cyprus.
to a departing Attendant
Do thou meet me presently
at the harbor. To Roderigo.
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.

...’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 favor, sympathy
in years, manners, and beauties, all which 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 of 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-out 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.

...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?

...was but courtesy.
Lechery, by this hand! An index and obscure
prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts.
They met so near with their lips that their breaths
embraced together. Villainous thoughts, Roderigo!
When these mutualities so marshal the way, hard
at hand comes the master and main exercise, th’
incorporate conclusion. Pish! But, sir, be you ruled
by me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you
tonight. 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
what other course you please, which the time shall
more favorably minister.

... Well.
Sir, he’s 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 the
impediment most profitably removed, without the
which there were no expectation of our prosperity.

...to any opportunity.
I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I
must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.

... Adieu.
That Cassio loves her, I do well believe ’t.
That she loves him, ’tis apt and of great credit.
The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
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 leaped into my seat—the thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards,
And nothing can or shall content my soul
Till I am evened 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 trace
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 nightcap too),
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me
For making him egregiously an ass
And practicing upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness. ’Tis here, but yet confused.
Knavery’s plain face is never seen till used.
He exits.

Scene 3

...and you.— Goodnight.
Enter Iago.

...to the watch.
Not this hour, lieutenant. ’Tis not yet ten o’ th’
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.

...most exquisite lady.
And, I’ll warrant her, full of game.

...and delicate creature.
What an eye she has! Methinks it sounds a parley
to provocation.

...methinks right modest.
And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?

...is indeed perfection.
Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant,
I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a
brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a
measure to the health of black Othello.

...custom of entertainment.
O, they are our friends! But one cup; I’ll drink
for you.

...with any more.
What, man! ’Tis a night of revels. The gallants
desire it.

...Where are they?
Here at the door. I pray you, call them in.

...it dislikes me.
If I can fasten but one cup upon him
With that which he hath drunk tonight already,
He’ll be as full of quarrel and offense
As my young mistress’ dog. Now my sick fool Roderigo,
Whom love hath turned almost the wrong side out,
To Desdemona hath tonight caroused
Potations pottle-deep; and he’s to watch.
Three else of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits
That hold their honors in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,
Have I tonight flustered with flowing cups;
And they watch too. Now, ’mongst this flock of drunkards
Am I to put our Cassio in some action
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.

...am a soldier.
Some wine, ho! Sings.

And let me the cannikin clink, clink,

And let me the cannikin clink.

A soldier’s a man,

O, man’s life’s but a span,

Why, then, let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys!

...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.

...in his drinking?
Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane
dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrow your Almain.
He gives your Hollander a vomit ere the next
pottle can be filled.

...do you justice.
O sweet England! Sings.

King Stephen was and-a worthy peer,

His breeches cost him but a crown;

He held them sixpence all too dear;

With that he called the tailor lown.

He was a wight of high renown,

And thou art but of low degree;

’Tis pride that pulls the country down,

Then take thy auld cloak about thee.
Some wine, ho!

...than the other!
Will you hear ’t again?

...not be saved.
It’s true, good lieutenant.

...to be saved.
And so do I too, lieutenant.

...set the watch.
to Montano
You see this fellow that is gone before?
He’s 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 th’ other. ’Tis pity of him.
I fear the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.

...he often thus?
’Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.
He’ll watch the horologe a double set
If drink rock not his cradle.

...true? Enter Roderigo.
aside to Roderigo
How now, Roderigo?
I pray you, after the Lieutenant, go.

...To the Moor.
Not I, for this fair island.
I do love Cassio well and would do much
To cure him of this evil—

“Help, help!” within.
But hark! What noise?

...Drunk? They fight.
aside to Roderigo
Away, I say! Go out and cry a mutiny.
Nay, good lieutenant.—God’s will, gentlemen!—
Help, ho! Lieutenant—sir—Montano—sir—
Help, masters!—Here’s a goodly watch indeed!

A bell is rung.
Who’s that which rings the bell? Diablo, ho!
The town will rise. God’s will, lieutenant, hold!
You will be shamed forever.

...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, for shame!

...I charge thee.
I do not know. Friends all but now, even now,
In quarter and in terms like bride and groom
Divesting 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!

...art no soldier.
Touch me not so near.
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
Than it should do offense 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
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman Pointing to Montano.
Steps in to Cassio and entreats his pause.
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest by his clamor—as it so fell out—
The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot,
Outran my purpose, and I returned the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords
And Cassio high in oath, which till tonight
I ne’er might say before. When I came back—
For this was brief—I found them close together
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.

...waked with strife.
What, are you hurt, lieutenant?

...past all surgery.
Marry, God forbid!

...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 offenseless dog to affright an imperious
lion. Sue to him again and he’s yours.

...call thee devil!
What was he that you followed with your sword?
What had he done to you?

...I know not.
Is ’t possible?

...ourselves into beasts!
Why, but you are now well enough. How came
you thus recovered?

...frankly despise myself.
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 so befallen. But
since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

...is a devil.
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.

...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: I may say so in this
respect, for that he hath devoted and given up
himself to the 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.

...advise me well.
I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest
kindness.

...check me here.
You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant. I
must to the watch.

...night, honest Iago.
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 course
To win the Moor again? For ’tis most easy
Th’ 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 redeemèd sin—
His soul is so enfettered 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 villain
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 fortune,
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,
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.

Enter Roderigo.
How now, Roderigo?

...again to Venice.
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 cashiered Cassio.
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.
Content thyself awhile. By th’ Mass, ’tis morning!
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 way.
Dull not device by coldness and delay.
He exits.

ACT 3
Scene 1

...good my friend.
Enter Iago.

...happy time, Iago.
You have not been abed, then?

...me some access.
I’ll send her to you presently,
And I’ll devise a mean to draw the Moor
Out of the way, that your converse and business
May be more free.

...you for ’t.
Iago exits.

Scene 2

...bound to you.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.

...to the Senate.
He gives Iago some papers.

...there to me.
Well, my good lord, I’ll do ’t.

...upon your Lordship.
They exit.

Scene 3

...thy cause away.
Enter Othello and Iago.

...do your discretion.
Ha, I like not that.

...dost thou say?
Nothing, my lord; or if—I know not what.

...from my wife?
Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think it
That he would steal away so guiltylike,
Seeing your coming.

...is come again.
My noble lord—

...thou say, Iago?
Did Michael Cassio,
When you wooed my lady, know of your love?

...dost thou ask?
But for a satisfaction of my thought,
No further harm.

...thy thought, Iago?
I did not think he had been acquainted with her.

...us very oft.
Indeed?

...he not honest?
Honest, my lord?

... Honest—ay, honest.
My lord, for aught I know.

...dost thou think?
Think, my lord?

...me thy thought.
My lord, you know I love you.

...passion cannot rule.
For Michael Cassio,
I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.

...think so too.
Men should be what they seem;
Or those that be not, would they might seem none!

...what they seem.
Why then, I think Cassio’s an honest man.

...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 that breast so pure
But some uncleanly apprehensions
Keep leets and law days and in sessions sit
With meditations lawful?

...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
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, and wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.

...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;
’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.

...know thy thoughts.
You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,
Nor shall not, whilst ’tis in my custody.

... Ha?
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o’er
Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves!

... O misery!
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 God, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!

...love or jealousy.
I am glad of this, for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit. Therefore, as I am bound,
Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
Wear your eyes 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 God see the pranks
They dare not show their husbands. Their best conscience
Is not to leave ’t undone, but keep ’t unknown.

...thou say so?
She did deceive her father, marrying you,
And when she seemed to shake and fear your looks,
She loved them most.

...so she did.
Why, go to, then!
She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
To seel 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.

...to thee forever.
I see this hath a little dashed your spirits.

...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 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.

...but Desdemona’s honest.
Long live she so! And long live you to think so!

...erring from itself—
Ay, there’s the point. As, to be bold with you,
Not to affect many proposèd matches
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.

...Leave me, Iago.
beginning to exit
My lord, I take my leave.

...than he unfolds.
returning
My lord, I would I might entreat your Honor
To scan this thing no farther. Leave it to time.
Although ’tis fit that Cassio have his place—
For sure he fills it up with great ability—
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 meantime,
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 Honor.

...not my government.
I once more take my leave.
He exits.

...please his fantasy.
Enter Iago.
How now? What do you here alone?

...thing for you.
You have a thing for me? It is a common thing—

... Ha?
To have a foolish wife.

...that same handkerchief?
What handkerchief?

...bid me steal.
Hast stol’n it from her?

...Look, here ’tis.
A good wench! Give it me.

...me filch it?
snatching it
Why, what is that to you?

...shall lack 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 sulfur.

Enter Othello.
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.

...false to me?
Why, how now, general? No more of that!

...’t a little.
How now, my lord?

...robbed at all.
I am sorry to hear this.

...Othello’s occupation’s gone!
Is ’t possible, my lord?

...my waked wrath.
Is ’t come to this?

...upon thy life!
My noble lord—

...Greater than that.
O grace! O heaven forgive me!
Are you a man? Have you a soul or sense?
God b’ wi’ you. Take mine office.—O wretched fool,
That liv’st 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 offense.

...shouldst be honest.
I should be wise; for honesty’s a fool
And loses that it works for.

...I were satisfied!
I see you are eaten up with passion.
I do repent me that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?

...and I will.
And may; but how? How satisfied, my lord?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on,
Behold her topped?

...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,
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 might have ’t.

...reason she’s disloyal.
I do not like the office,
But sith I am entered in this cause so far,
Pricked to ’t by foolish honesty and love,
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!” then kiss me hard,
As if he plucked up kisses by the roots
That grew upon my lips; then laid his leg
O’er my thigh, and sighed, and kissed, and then
Cried “Cursèd fate that gave thee to the Moor!”

...O monstrous! Monstrous!
Nay, this was but his dream.

...but a dream.
And this may help to thicken other proofs
That do demonstrate thinly.

...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?

...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.

...it be that—
If it be that, or any that was hers,
It speaks against her with the other proofs.

...of aspics’ tongues!
Yet be content.

...blood, blood, blood!
Patience, I say. Your mind perhaps may change.

...engage my words.
Do not rise yet.Iago kneels.
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 wronged Othello’s service! Let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
What bloody business ever.
They rise.

...Cassio’s not alive.
My friend is dead.
’Tis done at your request. But let her live.

...thou my lieutenant.
I am your own forever.
They exit.

Scene 4

...They belch us.
Enter Iago and Cassio.

...and my husband.
to Cassio
There is no other way; ’tis she must do ’t,
And, lo, the happiness! Go and importune her.

...that suffice you.
Is my lord angry?

...in strange unquietness.
Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon
When it hath blown his ranks into the air
And, like the devil, from his very arm
Puffed his own brother—and is he angry?
Something of moment then. I will go meet him.
There’s matter in ’t indeed if he be angry.

...prithee do so.
He exits.

ACT 4
Scene 1

...must be circumstanced.
Enter Othello and Iago.

Will you think so?

...Think so, Iago?
What,
To kiss in private?

...An unauthorized kiss!

Or to be naked with her friend in bed

An hour or more, not meaning any harm?

... heaven.

If they do nothing, ’tis a venial slip.

But if I give my wife a handkerchief—

... What then?

Why then, ’tis hers, my lord, and being hers,

She may, I think, bestow ’t on any man.

...she give that?

Her honor is an essence that’s not seen;

They have it very oft that have it not.

But for the handkerchief—

...had my handkerchief.

Ay, what of that?

...so good now.
What
If I had said I had seen him do you wrong?

Or heard him say (as knaves be such abroad,

Who having, by their own importunate suit

Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,

Convincèd or supplied them, cannot choose

But they must blab)—

...he said anything?

He hath, my lord, but be you well assured,

No more than he’ll unswear.

...hath he said?

Faith, that he did—I know not what he did.

... What? What?

Lie—

... With her?
With her—on her—what you will.

...in a trance.

Work on,

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!

Enter Cassio.
How now, Cassio?

...What’s the matter?

My lord is fall’n into an epilepsy.

This is his second fit. He had one yesterday.

...about the temples.
No, forbear.

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?

...thou mock me?
I mock you not, by heaven!

Would you would bear your fortune like a man!

...and a beast.

There’s many a beast, then, in a populous city,

And many a civil monster.

...he confess it?
Good sir, be a man!

Think every bearded fellow that’s but yoked

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.

...wise, ’tis certain.

Stand you awhile apart.

Confine yourself but in a patient list.

Whilst you were here, o’erwhelmèd with your grief—

A passion most unsuiting such a man—

Cassio came hither. I shifted him away

And laid good ’scuses 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 when

He hath and is again to cope your wife.

I say but mark his gesture. Marry, patience,

Or I shall say you’re all in all in spleen,

And nothing of a man.

...hear?) most bloody.
That’s not amiss.

But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?

Othello withdraws.

Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,

A huswife 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 restrain

From the excess of laughter. Here he comes.

Enter Cassio.

As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad,

And his unbookish jealousy must construe

Poor Cassio’s smiles, gestures, and light behaviors

Quite in the wrong.—How do you, lieutenant?

...even kills me.

Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on ’t.

Now, if this suit lay in Bianca’s power,

How quickly should you speed!

...he laughs already!

I never knew woman love man so.

...laughs it out.

Do you hear, Cassio?

...said, well said.

She gives it out that you shall marry her.

Do you intend it?

...laugh that wins.

Faith, the cry goes that you marry her.

...Prithee say true!

I am a very villain else.

...leave her company.

Before me, look where she comes.

...next prepared for.

After her, after her!

...the streets else.

Will you sup there?

...I intend so.

Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very

fain speak with you.

...come. Will you?

Go to; say no more.

...murder him, Iago?

Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?

... O Iago!

And did you see the handkerchief?

...Was that mine?

Yours, by this hand! And to see how he prizes

the foolish woman your wife! She gave it him, and

he hath giv’n it his whore.

...a sweet woman!

Nay, you must forget that.

...command him tasks.

Nay, that’s not your way.

...wit and invention!

She’s the worse for all this.

...gentle a condition!

Ay, too gentle.

...of it, Iago!

If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her

patent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes

near nobody.

...messes! Cuckold me?

O, ’tis foul in her.

...With mine officer!

That’s fouler.

...This night, Iago.

Do it not with poison. Strangle her in her bed,

even the bed she hath contaminated.

...pleases. Very good.

And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker. You

shall hear more by midnight.

...is that same?

I warrant something from Venice.

Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants.

’Tis Lodovico. This comes from the Duke.

See, your wife’s with him.

...good cousin Lodovico?

I am very glad to see you, signior.

Welcome to Cyprus.

...does Lieutenant Cassio?

Lives, sir.

...graze nor pierce?
He is much changed.

...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.

...Strike his wife?

’Faith, that was not so well. Yet would I knew

That stroke would prove the worst.

...new-create this fault?
Alas, alas!

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.

...deceived in him.
They exit.

Scene 2

...my least misuse?
Enter Iago and Emilia.
What is your pleasure, madam? How is ’t with you?

...child to chiding.
What is the matter, lady?

...that name, Iago?
What name, fair lady?

...upon his callet.
Why did he so?

...am none such.
Do not weep, do not weep! Alas the day!

...my wretched fortune.
Beshrew him for ’t! How comes this trick upon him?

...be hanged else.
Fie, there is no such man. It is impossible.

...to th’ west!
Speak within door.

...with the Moor.
You are a fool. Go to!

...could make me.
I pray you be content. ’Tis but his humor.
The business of the state does him offense,
And he does chide with you.

...’twere no other—
It is but so, I warrant.

Trumpets sound.
Hark how these instruments summon to supper.
The messengers of Venice stays the meat.
Go in and weep not. All things shall be well.

Enter Roderigo.
How now, Roderigo?

...justly with me.
What in the contrary?

...have foolishly suffered.
Will you hear me, Roderigo?

...no kin together.
You charge me most unjustly.

...I find none.
Well, go to! Very well.

...fopped in it.
Very well.

...satisfaction of you.
You have said now.

...intendment of doing.
Why, now I see there’s mettle in thee, and even
from this instant do 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.

...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 valor—this night show
it. If thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona,
take me from this world with treachery and
devise engines for my life.

...reason and compass?
Sir, there is especial commission come from
Venice to depute Cassio in Othello’s place.

...again to Venice.
O, no. He goes into Mauritania and takes away
with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be
lingered here by some accident—wherein none
can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio.

...mean, removing him?
Why, by making him uncapable of Othello’s
place: knocking out his brains.

...me to do?
Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He
sups tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to
him. He knows not yet of his honorable fortune. If
you will watch his going thence (which 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
supper time, and the night grows to waste. About it!

...reason for this.
And you shall be satisfied.
They exit.

ACT 5
Scene 1

...by bad mend.
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.

...miscarry in ’t.
Here, at thy hand. Be bold and take thy stand.
He moves aside.

...draws his sword.
aside
I have rubbed 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 bobbed from him
As gifts to Desdemona.
It must not be. If Cassio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life
That makes me ugly. And besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him. There stand I in much peril.
No, he must die. Be ’t so. I hear him coming.

...slain! Roderigo falls.
Iago stabs Cassio in the leg, and exits.

...bleed to death.
Enter Iago with a light.

...and weapons.
Who’s there? Whose noise is this that cries on murder?

...do not know.
Did not you hear a cry?

...sake, help me!
What’s the matter?

...very valiant fellow.
to Cassio
What are you here that cry so grievously?

...me some help!
O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this?

...cannot make away.
O treacherous villains!
To Lodovico and Gratiano.
What are you there?
Come in, and give some help.

...one of them.
to Roderigo
O murd’rous slave! O villain!
He stabs Roderigo.

...O inhuman dog!
Kill men i’ th’ dark?—Where be these bloody thieves?
How silent is this town! Ho, murder, murder!—
What may you be? Are you of good or evil?

...us, praise us.
Signior Lodovico?

... He, sir.
I cry you mercy. Here’s Cassio hurt by villains.

... Cassio?
How is ’t, brother?

...cut in two.
Marry, heaven forbid!
Light, gentlemen. I’ll bind it with my shirt.

...’t that cried?
Who is ’t that cried?

...Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be that have thus mangled you?

...to seek you.
Lend me a garter. So.—O for a chair
To bear him easily hence!

...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. Peering at Roderigo.
Know we this face or no?
Alas, my friend and my dear countryman
Roderigo? No! Yes, sure. O heaven, Roderigo!

...What, of Venice?
Even he, sir. Did you know him?

...Know him? Ay.
Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon.
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners
That so neglected you.

...to see you.
How do you, Cassio?—O, a chair, a chair!

... Roderigo?
He, he, ’tis he!

A chair is brought in.
O, that’s well said; the chair.—
Some good man bear him carefully from hence.
I’ll fetch the General’s surgeon.— For you, mistress,
Save you your labor.—He that lies slain here, Cassio,
Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?

...know the man.
to Bianca
What, look you pale?—O, bear him out o’ th’ air.
To Gratiano and Lodovico.
Stay you, good gentlemen.—Look you pale, mistress?—
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?—
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.

...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.

...Alas, good Cassio!
This is the fruits of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supped tonight.
To Bianca.
What, do you shake at that?

...therefore shake not.
O, did he so? I charge you go with me.

...Fie upon thee!
Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dressed.—
Come, mistress, you must tell ’s another tale.—
Emilia, run you to the citadel
And tell my lord and lady what hath happed.—
Will you go on afore? Aside.
This is the night
That either makes me or fordoes me quite.
They exit in different directions.

Scene 2

...mistress! Murder, murder!
Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.

...heart is full.
I told him what I thought, and told no more
Than what he found himself was apt and true.

...she was false?
I did.

...say with Cassio?
With Cassio, mistress. Go to! Charm your tongue.

...O villainy! Villainy!
What, are you mad? I charge you get you home.

...O heavenly God!
Zounds, hold your peace!

...yet I’ll speak.
Be wise, and get you home.
He draws his sword.

...to steal ’t.
Villainous whore!

...’t my husband.
Filth, thou liest!

...but is disarmed.
Iago kills his wife.

...my mistress’ side.
Iago exits.

...Dead! O, O!
Enter Lodovico, Cassio in a chair, Montano, and Iago, with Officers.

...the villain forth.
Iago is brought forward.

...cannot kill thee.
He stabs Iago.

...Othello is disarmed.
I bleed, sir, but not killed.

...soul and body?
Demand me nothing. What you know, you know.
From this time forth I never will speak word.

...heavy heart relate.
They exit.