Othello

by William Shakespeare

I understand a fury in your words, 38 ⟨But not the words.⟩

Had it pleased heaven 57 To try me with affliction, had they rained 58 All kind of sores and shames on my bare head, 59 Steeped me in poverty to the very lips, 60 Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, 61 I should have found in some place of my soul 62 A drop of patience. But alas, to make me 63 ⟨A⟩ fixèd figure for the time of scorn 64 To point his slow ⟨unmoving⟩ finger at— 65 Yet could I bear that too, well, very well. 66 But there where I have garnered up my heart, 67 Where either I must live or bear no life, 68 The fountain from the which my current runs 69 Or else dries up—to be discarded thence, 70 Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads 71 To knot and gender in—turn thy complexion there, 72 Patience, thou young and rose-lipped cherubin, 73 Ay, <there> look grim as hell.

OTHELLO Had it pleased heaven 57 To try me with affliction, had they rained 58 All kind of sores and shames on my bare head, 59 Steeped me in poverty to the very lips, 60 Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, 61 I should have found in some place of my soul 62 A drop of patience. But alas, to make me 63 ⟨A⟩ fixèd figure for the time of scorn 64 To point his slow ⟨unmoving⟩ finger at—65 Yet could I bear that too, well, very well. 66 But there where I have garnered up my heart, 67 Where either I must live or bear no life, 68 The fountain from the which my current runs 69 Or else dries up—to be discarded thence, 70 Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads 71 To knot and gender in—turn thy complexion there, 72 Patience, thou young and rose-lipped cherubin, 73 Ay, < there > look grim as hell. 74

DESDEMONA I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. 75 OTHELLO O, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles, 76 That quicken even with blowing! O thou weed, 77 Who art so lovely fair, and smell’st so sweet 78 That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst 79 ⟨ne’er⟩ been born! 80 DESDEMONA Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? 81 OTHELLO Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, 82 Made to write “whore” upon?

DESDEMONA I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. 75 OTHELLO O, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles, 76 That quicken even with blowing! O thou weed, 77 Who art so lovely fair, and smell’st so sweet 78 That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst 79 ⟨ne’er⟩ been born! 80 DESDEMONA Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? 81 OTHELLO Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, 82 Made to write “whore” upon?

I will be hanged if some eternal villain, 153 Some busy and insinuating rogue, 154 Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, 155 Have not devised this slander. I will be hanged else.

EMILIA I will be hanged if some eternal villain, 153 Some busy and insinuating rogue, 154 Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, 155 Have not devised this slander. I will be hanged else. 156

A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones! 159

EMILIA A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones! 159 Why should he call her “whore”? Who keeps her 160 company? 161 What place? What time? What form? What 162 likelihood? 163 The Moor’s abused by some most villainous knave, 164 Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. 165 O ⟨heaven,⟩ that such companions thou’dst unfold, 166 And put in every honest hand a whip 167 To lash the rascals naked through the world, 168 Even from the east to th’ west! 169 IAGO Speak within door. 170 EMILIA O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was 171 That turned your wit the seamy side without 172 And made you to suspect me with the Moor. 173

And his unkindness may defeat my life, 189 But never taint my love.

⟨Faith,⟩ I have heard too much, and your 213 words and performances are no kin together.

The poor soul sat <sighing> by a sycamore tree, 43 Sing all a green willow. 44 Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, 45 Sing willow, willow, willow. 46 The fresh streams ran by her and murmured her 47 moans, 48 Sing willow, willow, willow; 49 Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the 50 stones— 51 Lay by these. 52 Sing willow, willow, willow. 53 Prithee hie thee! He’ll come anon.

DESDEMONA, < singing > The poor soul sat < sighing > by a sycamore tree, 43 Sing all a green willow. 44 Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, 45 Sing willow, willow, willow. 46 The fresh streams ran by her and murmured her 47 moans, 48 Sing willow, willow, willow; 49 Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the 50 stones—51 Lay by these. 52 Sing willow, willow, willow. 53 Prithee hie thee! He’ll come anon. 54 Sing all a green willow must be my garland. 55 Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve. 56 Nay, that’s not next.] Hark, who is ’t that knocks? 57

Yes, a dozen; and as many to th’ vantage as 95 would store the world they played for.

EMILIA Yes, a dozen; and as many to th’ vantage as 95 would store the world they played for. 96 [But I do think it is their husbands’ faults 97 If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties, 98 And pour our treasures into foreign laps; 99 Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 100 Throwing restraint upon us. Or say they strike us, 101 Or scant our former having in despite. 102 Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, 103 Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know 104 Their wives have sense like them. They see, and 105 smell, 106 And have their palates both for sweet and sour, 107 As husbands have. What is it that they do 108 When they change us for others? Is it sport? 109 I think it is. And doth affection breed it? 110 I think it doth. Is ’t frailty that thus errs? 111 It is so too. And have not we affections, 112 Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? 113 Then let them use us well. Else let them know, 114 The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.] 115

I do think it is their husbands’ faults 97 If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties, 98 And pour our treasures into foreign laps; 99 Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 100 Throwing restraint upon us. Or say they strike us, 101 Or scant our former having in despite.

EMILIA . . . I do think it is their husbands’ faults 97 If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties, 98 And pour our treasures into foreign laps; 99 Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 100 Throwing restraint upon us. Or say they strike us, 101 Or scant our former having in despite. 102 Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, 103 Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know 104 Their wives have sense like them. They see, and 105 smell, 106 And have their palates both for sweet and sour, 107 As husbands have. What is it that they do 108 When they change us for others? Is it sport? 109 I think it is. And doth affection breed it? 110 I think it doth. Is ’t frailty that thus errs? 111 It is so too. And have not we affections, 112 Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? 113 Then let them use us well. Else let them know, 114 The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.] 115 . . .

have not we affections, 112 Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?

⟨God⟩ me such uses send, 116 Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend.

He hath a daily beauty in his life 20 That makes me ugly.

I can again thy former light restore 9 Should I repent me. But once put out thy light, 10 Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, 11 I know not where is that Promethean heat 12 That can thy light relume.

Scene 2 Enter Othello ⟨with a light,⟩ and Desdemona in her bed. OTHELLO It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul. 1 Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars. 2 It is the cause. Yet I’ll not shed her blood, 3 Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, 4 And smooth as monumental alabaster. 5 Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men. 6 Put out the light, and then put out the light. 7 If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 8 I can again thy former light restore 9 Should I repent me. But once put out thy light, 10 Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, 11 I know not where is that Promethean heat 12 That can thy light relume. . . .

So sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must weep, 22 But they are cruel tears. This sorrow’s heavenly: 23 It strikes where it doth love.

’Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death. 116 The noise was ⟨here.⟩ Ha, no more moving? 117 Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were ’t good? 118 I think she stirs again. No. What’s best to do? 119 If she come in, she’ll sure speak to my wife. 120 My wife, my wife! What wife? I have no wife. 121 O insupportable! O heavy hour! 122 Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse 123 Of sun and moon, and that th’ affrighted globe 124 ⟨Should⟩ yawn at alteration.

OTHELLO Yes. ’Tis Emilia.—By and by.—She’s dead. 115 ’Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death. 116 The noise was ⟨here.⟩ Ha, no more moving? 117 Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were ’t good? 118 I think she stirs again. No. What’s best to do? 119 If she come in, she’ll sure speak to my wife. 120 My wife, my wife! What wife? I have no wife. 121 O insupportable! O heavy hour! 122 Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse 123 Of sun and moon, and that th’ affrighted globe 124 ⟨Should⟩ yawn at alteration. 125

OTHELLO Not Cassio killed? Then murder’s out of tune, 142 And sweet revenge grows harsh. 143 DESDEMONA O falsely, falsely murdered. 144

OTHELLO Not Cassio killed? Then murder’s out of tune, 142 And sweet revenge grows harsh. 143 DESDEMONA O falsely, falsely murdered. 144

OTHELLO, <standing> O, she was foul!— 239 I scarce did know you, uncle. There lies your niece, 240 Whose breath indeed these hands have newly 241 stopped. 242 I know this act shows horrible and grim. 243 GRATIANO Poor Desdemon, I am glad thy father’s dead. 244 Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief 245 Shore his old thread in twain. Did he live now, 246 This sight would make him do a desperate turn, 247 Yea, curse his better angel from his side, 248 And fall to reprobance. 249 OTHELLO ’Tis pitiful. But yet Iago knows 250

OTHELLO, < standing > O, she was foul!—239 I scarce did know you, uncle. There lies your niece, 240 Whose breath indeed these hands have newly 241 stopped. 242 I know this act shows horrible and grim. 243 GRATIANO Poor Desdemon, I am glad thy father’s dead. 244 Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief 245 Shore his old thread in twain. Did he live now, 246 This sight would make him do a desperate turn, 247 Yea, curse his better angel from his side, 248 And fall to reprobance. 249 OTHELLO ’Tis pitiful. But yet Iago knows 250

⟨Zounds,⟩ hold your peace!

’Twill out, ’twill out. I peace? 260 No, I will speak as liberal as the north. 261 Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, 262 All, all, cry shame against me, yet I’ll speak.

EMILIA ’Twill out, ’twill out. I peace? 260 No, I will speak as liberal as the north. 261 Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, 262 All, all, cry shame against me, yet I’ll speak. 263

What did thy song bode, lady?

O ill-starred wench,] 323 Pale as thy smock,

This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,

Why, anything. 345 An honorable murderer, if you will, 346 For naught I did in hate, but all in honor.

Demand me nothing. What you know, you know.

You must forsake this room and go with us. 389 Your power and your command is taken off, 390 And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, 391 If there be any cunning cruelty 392 That can torment him much and hold him long, 393 It shall be his.

LODOVICO, < to Othello > You must forsake this room and go with us. 389 Your power and your command is taken off, 390 And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, 391 If there be any cunning cruelty 392 That can torment him much and hold him long, 393 It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, 394 Till that the nature of your fault be known 395 To the Venetian state.—Come, bring away. 396

Soft you. A word or two before you go. 397 I have done the state some service, and they 398 know ’t.

I pray you in your letters, 400 When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 401 Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, 402 Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak 403 Of one that loved not wisely, but too well; 404 Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, 405 Perplexed in the extreme;

OTHELLO Soft you. A word or two before you go. 397 I have done the state some service, and they 398 know ’t. 399 No more of that. I pray you in your letters, 400 When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 401 Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, 402 Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak 403 Of one that loved not wisely, but too well; 404 Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, 405 Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand, 406 Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away 407 Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued 408 eyes, 409 Albeit unused to the melting mood, 410 Drops tears as fast as the Arabian trees 411 Their medicinable gum. Set you down this. 412 And say besides, that in Aleppo once, 413 Where a malignant and a turbanned Turk 414 Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, 415 I took by th’ throat the circumcisèd dog, 416 And smote him, thus. 417 ⟨He stabs himself.⟩

Albeit unused to the melting mood, 410 Drops tears as fast as the Arabian trees 411 Their medicinable gum. Set you down this. 412 And say besides, that in Aleppo once, 413 Where a malignant and a turbanned Turk 414 Beat a Venetian

OTHELLO . . . Albeit unused to the melting mood, 410 Drops tears as fast as the Arabian trees 411 Their medicinable gum. Set you down this. 412 And say besides, that in Aleppo once, 413 Where a malignant and a turbanned Turk 414 Beat a Venetian . . .

I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this, 420 Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

Myself will straight aboard, and to the state 434 This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

To his pawn, Roderigo, and to the audience in soliloquy, Iago speaks at one time or another of many grievances:

To his pawn, Roderigo, and to the audience in soliloquy, Iago speaks at one time or another of many grievances: Othello has made Cassio his lieutenant rather than Iago, who wanted, and claims to have deserved, the post; Iago suspects that his wife, Emilia, has betrayed him with the Moor; Iago wants revenge, whether by possessing Desdemona (to be “even with him, wife for wife”) or by shattering Othello’s marital happiness; Cassio is his chosen instrument because Cassio is attractive to women and an additional threat to Iago’s husbandly rights of ownership over Emilia.

If Iago feels himself a have-not, the graces of Cassio and Desdemona and the glamorous life and language of Othello must rankle in maddening contrast.