Othello

by William Shakespeare

Forsooth, a great arithmetician, 20 One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damn’d in a fair wife; That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,

I follow him to serve my turn upon him: We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 45 Cannot be truly follow’d.

In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so for my peculiar end:

Even now, now, very now, an old black ram Is tupping your white ewe.

you’ll have your daughter 120 covered with a Barbary horse; you’ll have your nephews neigh to you; you’ll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.

you your daughter and the 125 Moor are now making the beast with

two backs.

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,

Rude am I in my speech, And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace;

She lov’d me for the dangers I had pass’d; And I lov’d her that she did pity them.

Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens, 125 Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.

Sir, he is rash, and very sudden in choler, and haply with his truncheon may strike at you: provoke him, that he may;

That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; 295 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;

For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leap’d into my seat: the thought whereof

yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong 310 That judgement cannot cure.

OTHELLO Iago is most honest.

Well,—God’s above all, and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

IAGO You see this fellow that is gone before;— He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar 110 And give direction: and do but see his vice; ‘Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as the other: ’tis pity of him.

Honest Iago,

More of this matter cannot I report;— But men are men; the best sometimes forget:—

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.—My reputation, Iago, my reputation!

Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and lost without deserving:

I’ll tell you what you shall do. Our general’s wife is now the general;—I