Othello

by William Shakespeare

proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds Christened and heathen,

⟨Tush,⟩ never tell me! I take it much unkindly 1 That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse 2 As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.

ACT 1 Scene 1 Enter Roderigo and Iago. RODERIGO ⟨Tush,⟩ never tell me! I take it much unkindly 1 That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse 2 As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. 3

⟨’Sblood,⟩ but you’ll not hear me! 4 If ever I did dream of such a matter, 5 Abhor me.

A fellow almost damned in a fair wife, 22 That never set a squadron in the field, 23 Nor the division of a battle knows 24 More than a spinster—unless the bookish theoric, 25 Wherein the ⟨togèd⟩ consuls can propose 26 As masterly as he.

IAGO . . . A fellow almost damned in a fair wife, 22 That never set a squadron in the field, 23 Nor the division of a battle knows 24 More than a spinster—unless the bookish theoric, 25 Wherein the ⟨togèd⟩ consuls can propose 26 As masterly as he.

Mere prattle without practice

And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof 29 At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on ⟨other⟩ grounds 30 Christened and heathen,

Why, there’s no remedy.

IAGO Why, there’s no remedy. ’Tis the curse of service. 37 Preferment goes by letter and affection, 38 And not by old gradation, where each second 39 Stood heir to th’ first. Now, sir, be judge yourself 40 Whether I in any just term am affined 41 To love the Moor. 42

I follow him to serve my turn upon him.

You shall mark 47 Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave 48 That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, 49 Wears out his time, much like his master’s ass, 50 For naught but provender, and when he’s old, 51 cashiered. 52 Whip me such honest knaves!

IAGO . . . You shall mark 47 Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave 48 That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, 49 Wears out his time, much like his master’s ass, 50 For naught but provender, and when he’s old, 51 cashiered. 52 Whip me such honest knaves! . . .

Were I the Moor I would not be Iago.

IAGO Were I the Moor I would not be Iago. 63 In following him, I follow but myself. 64 Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, 65 But seeming so for my peculiar end. 66 For when my outward action doth demonstrate 67 The native act and figure of my heart 68 In complement extern, ’tis not long after 69 But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 70 For daws to peck at. I am not what I am. 71

In following him, I follow but myself.

Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, 65 But seeming so for my peculiar end.

IAGO . . . Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, 65 But seeming so for my peculiar end. 66 For when my outward action doth demonstrate 67 The native act and figure of my heart 68 In complement extern, ’tis not long after 69 But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 70 For daws to peck at. I am not what I am. 71

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 70 For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.

IAGO . . . For when my outward action doth demonstrate 67 The native act and figure of my heart 68 In complement extern, ’tis not long after 69 But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 70 For daws to peck at. I am not what I am. 71

Call up her father. 74 Rouse him. Make after him, poison his delight, 75 Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, 76 And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 77 Plague him with flies. Though that his joy be joy, 78 Yet throw such chances of vexation on ’t 79 As it may lose some color.

IAGO Call up her father. 74 Rouse him. Make after him, poison his delight, 75 Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, 76 And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 77 Plague him with flies. Though that his joy be joy, 78 Yet throw such chances of vexation on ’t 79 As it may lose some color. 80

What ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!

I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daugh- 129 ter and the Moor are ⟨now⟩ making the beast with 130 two backs.

Thou art a villain.

Strike on the tinder, ho! 156 Give me a taper. Call up all my people. 157 This accident is not unlike my dream. 158 Belief of it oppresses me already. 159 Light, I say, light!

BRABANTIO Strike on the tinder, ho! 156 Give me a taper. Call up all my people. 157 This accident is not unlike my dream. 158 Belief of it oppresses me already. 159 Light, I say, light! 160 He exits.

Though in the trade of war I have slain men, 1 Yet do I hold it very stuff o’ th’ conscience 2 To do no contrived murder. I lack iniquity 3 ⟨Sometimes⟩ to do me service. Nine or ten times 4 I had thought t’ have yerked him here under the 5 ribs.

Scene 2 Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches. IAGO Though in the trade of war I have slain men, 1 Yet do I hold it very stuff o’ th’ conscience 2 To do no contrived murder. I lack iniquity 3 ⟨Sometimes⟩ to do me service. Nine or ten times 4 I had thought t’ have yerked him here under the 5 ribs. 6

Nay, but he prated 8 And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms 9 Against your Honor, 10 That with the little godliness I have 11 I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir, 12 Are you fast married?

IAGO Nay, but he prated 8 And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms 9 Against your Honor, 10 That with the little godliness I have 11 I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir, 12 Are you fast married? Be assured of this, 13 That the magnifico is much beloved, 14 And hath in his effect a voice potential 15 As double as the Duke’s. He will divorce you 16 Or put upon you what restraint or grievance 17 The law (with all his might to enforce it on) 18 Will give him cable. 19

Not I. I must be found. 35 My parts, my title, and my perfect soul 36 Shall manifest me rightly.

Down with him, 73 thief!

O, thou foul thief, where hast thou stowed my 80 daughter?

Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it 103 Without a prompter.—

my particular grief 65 Is of so floodgate and o’erbearing nature 66 That it engluts and swallows other sorrows 67 And it is still itself.

Humbly I thank your Grace. 84 Here is the man—this Moor, whom now it seems 85 Your special mandate for the state affairs 86 Hath hither brought.

BRABANTIO Humbly I thank your Grace. 84 Here is the man—this Moor, whom now it seems 85 Your special mandate for the state affairs 86 Hath hither brought. 87

Rude am I in my speech, 96 And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace;

And ⟨till⟩ she come, as truly as to heaven 143 [I do confess the vices of my blood,] 144 So justly to your grave ears I’ll present 145 How I did thrive in this fair lady’s love, 146 And she in mine.

OTHELLO Ancient, conduct them. You best know the place. 142 < Iago and Attendants exit. > And ⟨till⟩ she come, as truly as to heaven 143 [I do confess the vices of my blood,] 144 So justly to your grave ears I’ll present 145 How I did thrive in this fair lady’s love, 146 And she in mine. 147

These things to 168 hear 169 Would Desdemona seriously incline.

OTHELLO . . . These things to 168 hear 169 Would Desdemona seriously incline. 170 But still the house affairs would draw her ⟨thence,⟩ 171 Which ever as she could with haste dispatch 172 She’d come again, and with a greedy ear 173 Devour up my discourse. Which I, observing, 174 Took once a pliant hour, and found good means 175 To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart 176 That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 177 Whereof by parcels she had something heard, 178 But not ⟨intentively.⟩ I did consent, 179 And often did beguile her of her tears 180 When I did speak of some distressful stroke 181 That my youth suffered. My story being done, 182 She gave me for my pains a world of ⟨sighs.⟩ 183 She swore, in faith, ’twas strange, ’twas passing 184 strange, 185 ’Twas pitiful, ’twas wondrous pitiful. 186 She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished 187 That heaven had made her such a man. She thanked 188 me, 189 And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 190 I should but teach him how to tell my story, 191 And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake. 192 She loved me for the dangers I had passed, 193 And I loved her that she did pity them. 194 This only is the witchcraft I have used. 195 Here comes the lady. Let her witness it. 196

My story being done, 182 She gave me for my pains a world of ⟨sighs.⟩

OTHELLO . . . My story being done, 182 She gave me for my pains a world of ⟨sighs.⟩ 183 She swore, in faith, ’twas strange, ’twas passing 184 strange, 185 ’Twas pitiful, ’twas wondrous pitiful. 186 She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished 187 That heaven had made her such a man. She thanked 188 me, 189 And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 190 I should but teach him how to tell my story, 191 And that would woo her.

She loved me for the dangers I had passed, 193 And I loved her that she did pity them.

OTHELLO . . . She loved me for the dangers I had passed, 193 And I loved her that she did pity them. 194 This only is the witchcraft I have used. 195

My noble father, 208 I do perceive here a divided duty. 209 To you I am bound for life and education. 210 My life and education both do learn me 211 How to respect you. You are the lord of duty. 212 I am hitherto your daughter. But here’s my 213 husband. 214 And so much duty as my mother showed 215 To you, preferring you before her father, 216 So much I challenge that I may profess 217 Due to the Moor my lord.

DESDEMONA My noble father, 208 I do perceive here a divided duty. 209 To you I am bound for life and education. 210 My life and education both do learn me 211 How to respect you. You are the lord of duty. 212 I am hitherto your daughter. But here’s my 213 husband. 214 And so much duty as my mother showed 215 To you, preferring you before her father, 216 So much I challenge that I may profess 217 Due to the Moor my lord. 218

For your sake, jewel, 225 I am glad at soul I have no other child, 226 For thy escape would teach me tyranny, 227 To hang clogs on them.—I

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended 232 By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.

DUKE Let me speak like yourself and lay a sentence, 229 Which as a grise or step may help these lovers 230 ⟨Into your favor.⟩ 231 When remedies are past, the griefs are ended 232 By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. 233 To mourn a mischief that is past and gone 234 Is the next way to draw new mischief on. 235 What cannot be preserved when fortune takes, 236 Patience her injury a mock’ry makes. 237 The robbed that smiles steals something from the 238 thief; 239 He robs himself that spends a bootless grief. 240

To mourn a mischief that is past and gone 234 Is the next way to draw new mischief on.

What cannot be preserved when fortune takes, 236 Patience her injury a mock’ry makes.

The robbed that smiles steals something from the 238 thief; 239 He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

I never yet did hear 249 That the bruised heart was piercèd through the 250 ⟨ear.⟩

If virtue no delighted beauty lack, 330 Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see. 333 She has deceived her father, and may thee.

We must obey the time.

It is silliness to live, when to live is torment, 350 and then have we a prescription to die when death is 351 our physician.

Virtue? A fig! ’Tis in ourselves that we are thus or 361 thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our 362 wills are gardeners.

IAGO Virtue? A fig! ’Tis in ourselves that we are thus or 361 thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our 362 wills are gardeners. So that if we will plant nettles 363 or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, 364 supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it 365 with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or 366 manured with industry, why the power and corrigi-367 ble authority of this lies in our wills. If the ⟨balance⟩ 368 of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise 369 another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our 370 natures would conduct us to most prepost’rous 371 conclusions. But we have reason to cool our raging 372 motions, our carnal stings, ⟨our⟩ unbitted lusts—373 whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect, or 374 scion. 375

But we have reason to cool our raging 372 motions, our carnal stings, ⟨our⟩ unbitted lusts— 373 whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect, or 374 scion.

It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission 377 of the will.

IAGO It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission 377 of the will. Come, be a man! Drown thyself? Drown 378 cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy 379 friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving 380 with cables of perdurable toughness. I could never 381 better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse. 382 Follow thou the wars; defeat thy favor with an 383 usurped beard. I say, put money in thy purse. It 384 cannot be that Desdemona should ⟨long⟩ continue 385 her love to the Moor—put money in thy purse—386 nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement in 387 her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration 388 —put but money in thy purse. These Moors are 389 changeable in their wills. Fill thy purse with money. 390 The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts 391 shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. 392 She must change for youth. When she is sated 393 with his body she will find the ⟨error⟩ of her choice. 394 Therefore, put money in thy purse. If thou wilt 395 needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than 396 drowning. Make all the money thou canst. If sancti- 397 mony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian 398 and ⟨a⟩ supersubtle Venetian be not too hard for my 399 wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her. 400 Therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! 401 It is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be 402 hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned 403 and go without her. 404

Come, be a man! Drown thyself? Drown 378 cats and blind puppies.

Put money in thy purse.

Put money in thy purse. 382 Follow thou the wars; defeat thy favor with an 383 usurped beard. I say, put money in thy purse. It 384 cannot be that Desdemona should ⟨long⟩ continue 385 her love to the Moor—put money in thy purse—386 nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement in 387 her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration 388 —put but money in thy purse. These Moors are 389 changeable in their wills. Fill thy purse with money. 390 The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts 391 shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. 392 She must change for youth. When she is sated 393 with his body she will find the ⟨error⟩ of her choice. 394 Therefore, put money in thy purse.

She must change for youth.

IAGO . . . She must change for youth. When she is sated 393 with his body she will find the ⟨error⟩ of her choice. 394 Therefore, put money in thy purse. If thou wilt 395 needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than 396 drowning. Make all the money thou canst.

Therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! 401 It is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be 402 hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned 403 and go without her.

IAGO . . . Therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! 401 It is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be 402 hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned 403 and go without her. 404 . . .

There are many 412 events in the womb of time which will be delivered.