ACT 1
Scene 2
...deserve your pains.
Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches.
...the ribs.
’Tis better as it is.
...give him cable.
Let him do his spite.
My services which I have done the signiory
Shall out-tongue his complaints. ’Tis yet to know
(Which, when I know that boasting is an honor,
I shall promulgate) I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege, and my demerits
May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reached. For know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhousèd free condition
Put into circumscription and confine
For the sea’s worth. But look, what lights come yond?
...best go in.
Not I. I must be found.
My parts, my title, and my perfect soul
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
...Officers, and Torches.
The servants of the Duke and my lieutenant!
The goodness of the night upon you, friends.
What is the news?
...on the instant.
What is the matter, think you?
...search you out.
’Tis well I am found by you.
I will but spend a word here in the house
And go with you.
He exits.
... Marry, to—
Reenter Othello.
...will you go?
Have with you.
...to bad intent.
Holla, stand there!
...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.
...at his peril.
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.—Whither will you that I go
To answer this your charge?
...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?
...our statesmen be.
They exit.
Scene 3
...the valiant Moor.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers.
...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.
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little blessed 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,
I will a round unvarnished 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.
...to soul affordeth?
I do beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittary
And let her speak of me before her father.
If you do find me foul in her report,
The trust, the office I do hold of you,
Not only take away, but let your sentence
Even fall upon my life.
...Fetch Desdemona hither.
Ancient, conduct them. You best know the place.
And till she come, as truly as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I’ll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady’s love,
And she in mine.
...Say it, Othello.
Her father loved me, oft invited me,
Still questioned 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 th’ very moment that he bade me tell it,
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances:
Of moving accidents by flood and field,
Of hairbreadth ’scapes i’ th’ imminent deadly breach,
Of being taken by the insolent foe
And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence,
And portance in my traveler’s 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 my process—
And of the cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline.
But still the house affairs would draw her thence,
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch
She’d come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse. Which I, observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively. I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her tears
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffered. 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 wished she had not heard it, yet she wished
That heaven had made her such a man. She thanked me,
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake.
She loved me for the dangers I had passed,
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.
...and boist’rous expedition.
The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down. I do agnize
A natural and prompt alacrity
I find in hardness, and do undertake
This 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.
...have it so.
Nor I.
...go with him.
Let her have your voice.
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-winged toys
Of feathered Cupid seel with wanton dullness
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.
...must away tonight.
With all my heart.
...doth import you.
So please your Grace, my ancient.
A man he is of honesty and trust.
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good Grace shall think
To be sent after me.
...and may thee.
My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee.
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.
Othello and Desdemona exit.
ACT 2
Scene 1
...where he comes!
Enter Othello and Attendants.
O, my fair warrior!
...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,
May the winds blow till they have wakened death,
And let the laboring 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.
...days do grow!
Amen to that, sweet powers!
I cannot speak enough of this content.
It stops me here; it is too much of joy.They kiss.
And this, and this, the greatest discords be
That e’er our hearts shall make!
...as I am.
Come. Let us to the castle.—
News, friends! Our wars are done. The Turks are drowned.
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 worthiness
Does challenge much respect.—Come, Desdemona.
Once more, well met at Cyprus.
All but Iago and Roderigo exit.
Scene 3
...noble general, Othello!
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.
Good Michael, look you to the guard tonight.
Let’s teach ourselves that honorable stop
Not to outsport discretion.
...look to ’t.
Iago is most honest.
Michael, goodnight. Tomorrow with your earliest
Let me have speech with you. To Desdemona.
Come, my dear love,
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
That profit’s yet to come ’tween me and you.—
Goodnight.
Othello and Desdemona exit, with Attendants.
...be shamed forever.
Enter Othello and Attendants.
What is the matter here?
...dies!He attacks Cassio.
Hold, for your lives!
...Hold, for shame!
Why, how now, ho! From whence ariseth this?
Are we turned Turks, and to ourselves do that
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 looks dead with grieving,
Speak. Who began this? On thy love, I charge thee.
...part of it!
How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?
...I cannot speak.
Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil.
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.
...violence assails us.
Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule,
And passion, having my best judgment collied,
Assays to lead the way. Zounds, if I stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
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 offense,
Though he had twinned 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?
...could not pass.
I know, Iago,
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio.—Cassio, I love thee,
But nevermore be officer of mine.
Enter Desdemona attended.
Look if my gentle love be not raised up!
I’ll make thee an example.
...the matter, dear?
All’s well now, sweeting.
Come away to bed. To Montano.
Sir, for your hurts,
Myself will be your surgeon.—Lead him off.
Iago, look with care about the town
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.—
Come, Desdemona. ’Tis the soldier’s life
To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
All but Iago and Cassio exit.
ACT 3
Scene 2
...bound to you.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.
These letters give, Iago, to the pilot
And by him do my duties to the Senate. He gives Iago some papers.
That done, I will be walking on the works.
Repair there to me.
...I’ll do ’t.
This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see ’t?
...upon your Lordship.
They exit.
Scene 3
...thy cause away.
Enter Othello and Iago.
...like not that.
What dost thou say?
...know not what.
Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?
...Seeing your coming.
I do believe ’twas he.
...in your displeasure.
Who is ’t you mean?
...call him back.
Went he hence now?
...call him back.
Not now, sweet Desdemon. Some other time.
...’t be shortly?
The sooner, sweet, for you.
...tonight at supper?
No, not tonight.
...Tomorrow dinner, then?
I shall not dine at home;
I meet the captains at the citadel.
...could do much—
Prithee, no more. Let him come when he will;
I will deny thee nothing.
...to be granted.
I will deny thee nothing!
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.
...Farewell, my lord.
Farewell, my Desdemona. I’ll come to thee straight.
...I am obedient.
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul
But I do love thee! And when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again.
...My noble lord—
What dost thou say, Iago?
...of your love?
He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask?
...No further harm.
Why of thy thought, Iago?
...acquainted with her.
O yes, and went between us very oft.
... Indeed?
Indeed? Ay, indeed! Discern’st thou aught in that?
Is he not honest?
...Honest, my lord?
Honest—ay, honest.
...aught I know.
What dost thou think?
...Think, my lord?
“Think, my lord?” By heaven, thou echo’st me
As if there were some monster in thy thought
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something.
I heard thee say even now, thou lik’st 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 cried’st “Indeed?”
And didst contract and purse thy brow together
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.
...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 giv’st 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 just,
They’re close dilations working from the heart
That passion cannot rule.
...he is honest.
I think so too.
...might seem none!
Certain, men should be what they seem.
...an honest man.
Nay, yet there’s more in this.
I prithee speak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words.
...With meditations lawful?
Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but think’st him wronged and mak’st his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.
...know my thoughts.
What dost thou mean?
...me poor indeed.
By heaven, I’ll know thy thoughts.
...in my custody.
Ha?
...yet strongly loves!
O misery!
...defend From jealousy!
Why, why is this?
Think’st thou I’d make a life 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.
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.
...keep ’t unknown.
Dost thou say so?
...loved them most.
And so she did.
...much loving you.
I am bound to thee forever.
...dashed your spirits.
Not a jot, not a jot.
...Than to suspicion.
I will not.
...see you’re moved.
No, not much moved.
I do not think but Desdemona’s honest.
...to think so!
And yet, how nature erring from itself—
...And happily repent.
Farewell, farewell!
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more.
Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, Iago.
...take my leave.
Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
...beseech your Honor.
Fear not my government.
...take my leave.
This fellow’s of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities with a learnèd spirit
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
I’d whistle her off and let her down the wind
To prey 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 relief
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 vapor 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 forkèd plague is fated to us
When we do quicken. Look where she comes.
Enter Desdemona and Emilia.
If she be false, heaven mocks itself!
I’ll not believe ’t.
...attend your presence.
I am to blame.
...you not well?
I have a pain upon my forehead, here.
...will be well.
Your napkin is too little.
Let it alone.The handkerchief falls, unnoticed.
Come, I’ll go in with you.
...are not well.
Othello and Desdemona exit.
...mines of sulfur.
Enter Othello.
...thou owedst yesterday.
Ha, ha, false to me?
...more of that!
Avaunt! Begone! Thou hast set me on the rack.
I swear ’tis better to be much abused
Than but to know ’t a little.
...now, my lord?
What sense had I of her stol’n hours of lust?
I saw ’t not, thought it not; it harmed not me.
I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and merry.
I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips.
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol’n,
Let him not know ’t, and he’s not robbed at all.
...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, forever
Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content!
Farewell the plumèd troops and the big wars
That makes ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th’ ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th’ immortal Jove’s dread clamors counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone!
...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 mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my waked wrath.
...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!
...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.
...breeds such offense.
Nay, stay. Thou shouldst be honest.
...it works for.
By the world,
I think my wife be honest and think she is not.
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!
...would be satisfied?
Would? Nay, and I will.
...Behold her topped?
Death and damnation! O!
...might have ’t.
Give me a living reason she’s disloyal.
...to the Moor!”
O monstrous! Monstrous!
...his dream.
But this denoted a foregone conclusion.
’Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.
...do demonstrate thinly.
I’ll tear her all to pieces.
...your wife’s hand?
I gave her such a one. ’Twas my first gift.
...his beard with.
If it be that—
...the other proofs.
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.
’Tis gone.
Arise, black vengeance, from the hollow hell!
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
For ’tis of aspics’ tongues!
...Yet be content.
O, blood, blood, blood!
...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,
Till that a capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up. He kneels.
Now by yond marble heaven,
In the due reverence of a sacred vow,
I here engage my words.
...bloody business ever.
They rise.
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.
...let her live.
Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her, damn her!
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.
...your own forever.
They exit.
Scene 4
...he comes.
Enter Othello.
...you, my lord?
Well, my good lady. Aside.
O, hardness to dissemble!—
How do you, Desdemona?
...my good lord.
Give me your hand. He takes her hand.
This hand is moist, my lady.
...known no sorrow.
This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart.
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.
...away my heart.
A liberal hand! The hearts of old gave hands,
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
...now, your promise.
What promise, chuck?
...speak with you.
I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me.
Lend me thy handkerchief.
...Here, my lord.
That which I gave you.
...not about me.
Not?
...faith, my lord.
That’s a fault. That handkerchief
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 a gift of it, my father’s eye
Should hold her loathèd, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me,
And bid me, when my fate would have me wived,
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.
...Is ’t possible?
’Tis true. There’s magic in the web of it.
A sybil that had numbered in the world
The sun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sewed the work.
The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk,
And it was dyed in mummy, which the skillful
Conserved of maidens’ hearts.
...is ’t true?
Most veritable. Therefore, look to ’t well.
...never seen ’t!
Ha? Wherefore?
...startingly and rash?
Is ’t lost? Is ’t gone? Speak, is ’t out o’ th’ way?
...Heaven bless us!
Say you?
...if it were?
How?
...is not lost.
Fetch ’t. Let me see ’t!
...be received again.
Fetch me the handkerchief! Aside.
My mind misgives.
...more sufficient man.
The handkerchief!
...me of Cassio.
The handkerchief!
...dangers with you—
The handkerchief!
...are to blame.
Zounds!
Othello exits.
ACT 4
Scene 1
...must be circumstanced.
Enter Othello and Iago.
...you think so?
Think so, Iago?
...kiss in private?
An unauthorized kiss!
...meaning any harm?
Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm?
It is hypocrisy against the devil!
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.
...wife a handkerchief—
What then?
...on any man.
She is protectress of her honor, too.
May she give that?
...for the handkerchief—
By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it.
Thou saidst—O, it comes o’er my memory
As doth the raven o’er the infectious house,
Boding to all—he had my handkerchief.
...what of that?
That’s not so good now.
...they must blab)—
Hath he said anything?
...than he’ll unswear.
What hath he said?
...what he did.
What? What?
... Lie—
With her?
...her—what you will.
Lie with her? Lie on her? We say “lie on her”
when they belie her. Lie with her—Zounds, that’s
fulsome! Handkerchief—confessions—handkerchief.
To confess and be hanged for his labor.
First to be hanged and then to confess—I tremble
at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing
passion without some instruction. It is not
words that shakes me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and
lips—is ’t possible? Confess—handkerchief—O,
devil!
He falls in a trance.
...hurt your head?
Dost thou mock me?
...like a man!
A hornèd man’s a monster and a beast.
...a civil monster.
Did he confess it?
...she shall be.
O, thou art wise, ’tis certain.
...of a man.
Dost thou hear, Iago,
I will be found most cunning in my patience,
But (dost thou hear?) most bloody.
...Will you withdraw?
Othello withdraws.
...Alas, poor caitiff!
Look how he laughs already!
...she loves me.
Now he denies it faintly and laughs it out.
...you hear, Cassio?
Now he importunes him
To tell it o’er. Go to, well said, well said.
...Ha, ha, ha!
Do you triumph, Roman? Do you triumph?
...Ha, ha, ha!
So, so, so, so. They laugh that wins.
...very villain else.
Have you scored me? Well.
...of my promise.
Iago beckons me. Now he begins the story.
...about my neck!
Crying, “O dear Cassio,” as it were; his
gesture imports it.
...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.
...now? How now?
By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!
...say no more.
coming forward
How shall I murder him,
Iago?
...at his vice?
O Iago!
...see the handkerchief?
Was that mine?
...it his whore.
I would have him nine years a-killing! A fine
woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman!
...must forget that.
Ay, let her rot and perish and be damned
tonight, 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.
...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!
...for all this.
O, a thousand, a thousand times!—And then
of so gentle a condition!
...Ay, too gentle.
Nay, that’s certain. But yet the pity of it,
Iago! O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago!
...comes near nobody.
I will chop her into messes! Cuckold me?
...foul in her.
With mine officer!
... That’s fouler.
Get me some poison, Iago, this night. I’ll not
expostulate with her lest her body and beauty
unprovide my mind again. This night, Iago.
...she hath contaminated.
Good, good. The justice of it pleases. Very
good.
...more by midnight.
Excellent good.
A trumpet sounds.
What trumpet is that same?
...you, worthy general.
With all my heart, sir.
...Venice greet you.
He hands Othello a paper.
I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
...make all well.
Are you sure of that?
... My lord?
reading
“This fail you not to do, as you
will”—
...bear to Cassio.
Fire and brimstone!
... My lord?
Are you wise?
...glad on ’t.
Indeed?
... My lord?
I am glad to see you mad.
...Why, sweet Othello!
striking her
Devil!
...amends. She weeps.
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!
...call her back.
Mistress.
...turning backMy lord?
What would you with her, sir?
...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.
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!
He exits.
Scene 2
...deceived in him.
Enter Othello and Emilia.
You have seen nothing then?
...ever did suspect.
Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
...up between them.
What, did they never whisper?
...Never, my lord.
Nor send you out o’ th’ way?
... Never.
To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
...Never, my lord.
That’s strange.
...foul 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 villainous secrets.
And yet she’ll kneel and pray. I have seen her do ’t.
...is your will?
Pray you, chuck, come hither.
...your pleasure?
Let me see your eyes. Look in my face.
...horrible fancy’s this?
to Emilia
Some of your function, mistress.
Leave procreants alone, and shut the door.
Cough, or cry “hem,” if anybody come.
Your mystery, your mystery! Nay, dispatch.
...not the words.
Why? What art thou?
...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 damned.
Swear thou art honest.
...truly know it.
Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.
...am I false?
Ah, Desdemon, away, away, away!
...lost him too.
Had it pleased heaven
To try me with affliction, had they rained
All kind of sores and shames on my bare head,
Steeped me in poverty to the very lips,
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 fixèd 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 garnered 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,
Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
To knot and gender in—turn thy complexion there,
Patience, thou young and rose-lipped cherubin,
Ay, there look grim as hell.
...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!
...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 hushed within the hollow mine of earth
And will not hear ’t. What committed?
Impudent strumpet!
...do me wrong!
Are not you a strumpet?
...I am none.
What, not a whore?
...shall be saved.
Is ’t possible?
...heaven forgive us!
I cry you mercy, then.
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello.—You, mistress,
Enter Emilia.
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter
And keeps the gate of hell—you, you, ay, you!
We have done our course. There’s money for your pains.He gives her money.
I pray you turn the key and keep our counsel.
He exits.
Scene 3
...shall be satisfied.
Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, and Attendants.
...yourself no further.
O, pardon me, ’twill do me good to walk.
...is most welcome.
Will you walk, sir?—O, Desdemona—
... My lord?
Get you to bed on th’ instant. I will be
returned forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there.
Look ’t be done.
...will, my lord.
All but Desdemona and Emilia exit.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...ho! Murder, murder!
Enter Othello.
The voice of Cassio! Iago keeps his word.
...that I am!
aside
It is even so.
...Light! A surgeon!
aside
’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-stained, shall with lust’s blood be spotted.
Othello exits.
Scene 2
...fordoes me quite.
Enter Othello with a light, and Desdemona in her bed.
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
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 plucked the rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again.
It needs must wither. I’ll smell it on the tree.
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword! He kisses her.
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. He kisses her.
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.
...Who’s there? Othello?
Ay, Desdemona.
...bed, my lord?
Have you prayed tonight, Desdemon?
...Ay, my lord.
If you bethink yourself of any crime
Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.
...mean by that?
Well, do it, and be brief. I will walk by.
I would not kill thy unpreparèd spirit.
No, heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.
...you of killing?
Ay, I do.
...mercy on me.
Amen, with all my heart.
...not kill me.
Humh.
...feel I fear.
Think on thy sins.
...bear to you.
Ay, and for that thou diest.
...point on me.
Peace, and be still.
...What’s the matter?
That handkerchief
Which I so loved, and gave thee, thou gav’st to Cassio.
...And ask him.
Sweet soul, take heed, take heed of perjury.
Thou art on thy deathbed.
...yet to die.
Yes, presently.
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.
...mercy on me!
I say “Amen.”
...gave him token.
By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in ’s hand!
O perjured woman, thou dost stone my heart
And mak’st me call what I intend to do
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice!
I saw the handkerchief!
...confess a truth.
He hath confessed.
...What, my lord?
That he hath used thee.
... How? Unlawfully?
Ay.
...not say so.
No. His mouth is stopped.
Honest Iago hath ta’en order for ’t.
...is he dead?
Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.
...I undone.She weeps.
Out, strumpet! Weep’st thou for him to my face?
...kill me not!
Down, strumpet!
...me live tonight.
Nay, if you strive—
...half an hour!
Being done, there is no pause.
...say one prayer!
It is too late.
He smothers her.
...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.
...lord, my lord!
Who’s there?
...word with you.
Yes. ’Tis Emilia.—By and by.—She’s dead.
’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 th’ affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.
...good my lord—
I had forgot thee. O, come in, Emilia.—
Soft, by and by, let me the curtains draw.—
Where art thou?
Enter Emilia.
What’s the matter with thee now?
...foul murders done.
What? Now?
...now, my lord.
It is the very error of the moon.
She comes more nearer Earth than she was wont
And makes men mad.
...Venetian called Roderigo.
Roderigo killed? And Cassio killed?
...is not killed.
Not Cassio killed? Then murder’s out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
...cry is that?
That? What?
...farewell. She dies.
Why, how should she be murdered?
...who knows?
You heard her say herself, it was not I.
...report the truth.
She’s like a liar gone to burning hell!
’Twas I that killed her.
...the blacker devil!
She turned to folly, and she was a whore.
...art a devil!
She was false as water.
...was heavenly true!
Cassio did top her. Ask thy husband else.
O, I were damned beneath all depth in hell
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
... My husband?
Thy husband.
...false to wedlock?
Ay, with Cassio. Had she been true,
If heaven would make me such another world
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
I’d not have sold her for it.
... My husband?
Ay, ’twas he that told me on her first.
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.
... My husband?
What needs this iterance, woman? I say, thy husband.
...she was false?
He, woman.
I say thy husband. Dost understand the word?
My friend, thy husband; honest, honest Iago.
...most filthy bargain.
He draws his sword.
Hah?
...wast worthy her.
Peace, you were best!
...the murder on!
Nay, stare not, masters; it is true indeed.
...ne’er go home.
O, O, O!
Othello falls on the bed.
...lift up eye.
standing
O, she was foul!—
I scarce did know you, uncle. There lies your niece,
Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopped.
I know this act shows horrible and grim.
...fall to reprobance.
’Tis pitiful. But yet Iago knows
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
A thousand times committed. Cassio confessed it,
And she did gratify his amorous works
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her. I saw it in his hand.
It was a handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.
...good a wife?
Are there no stones in heaven
But what serves for the thunder?—Precious villain!
The Moor runs at Iago but is disarmed.
...a damnèd slave.
I am not valiant neither,
But every puny whipster gets my sword.
But why should honor outlive honesty?
Let it go all.
...die. She dies.
I have another weapon in this chamber.
It is a sword of Spain, the ice brook’s temper.
O, here it is.—Uncle, I must come forth.
...perforce must suffer.
Look in upon me, then, and speak with me,
Or naked as I am I will assault thee.
...is the matter?
Behold, I have a weapon.
A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier’s thigh. I have seen the day
That with this little arm and this good sword
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop. But—O vain boast!—
Who can control his fate? ’Tis not so now.
Be not afraid, though you do see me weaponed.
Here is my journey’s end, here is my butt
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismayed? ’Tis a lost fear.
Man but a rush against Othello’s breast,
And he retires. Where should Othello go? He looks toward the bed.
Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starred wench,
Pale as thy smock, when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl?
Even like thy chastity.—O cursèd, cursèd slave!—
Whip me, you devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulfur,
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
O Desdemon! Dead, Desdemon! Dead! O, O!
...most unfortunate man?
That’s he that was Othello. Here I am.
...is brought forward.
I look down towards his feet; but that’s a fable.—
If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
He stabs Iago.
...sword from him.
Othello is disarmed.
...but not killed.
I am not sorry neither. I’d have thee live,
For in my sense ’tis happiness to die.
...said to thee?
Why, anything.
An honorable murderer, if you will,
For naught I did in hate, but all in honor.
...in Cassio’s death?
Ay.
...gave you cause.
I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil
Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?
...ope your lips.
Well, thou dost best.
...undertook By Roderigo.
O villain!
...and satisfied him.
O, thou pernicious caitiff!—
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife’s?
...to his desire.
O fool, fool, fool!
...state.—Come, bring away.
Soft you. A word or two before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they know ’t.
No more of that. I pray you in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak
Of one that loved not wisely, but too well;
Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought,
Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand,
Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drops tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinable gum. Set you down this.
And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turbanned Turk
Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
I took by th’ throat the circumcisèd dog,
And smote him, thus.
He stabs himself.
...spoke is marred.
to Desdemona
I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this,
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.He dies.