Imatges de pàgina

DUKE of Venice.
Brabantio, a noble Venetian.
Gratiano, Brother to Brabantio.
Lodovico, Kinsman to Brabantio and Gratiano.
Othello, the Moor, General for the Venetians in Cyprus.
Callio, bis Lieutenant-General.
lago, Standard-bearer to Othello.
Rodorigo, a foolish Gentleman, in love with Desdemona.
Montano,the Moor's Predecessor in the Government of Cyprus
Clown, Servant to the Moor.

Desdemona, Daughter to Brabantio, and Wife to Othello.
Æmilia, Wife to lago.
Bianca, a Courtezan, Mistress to Callio.

Officers, Gentlemen, Meslengers, Musicians, and Attendants.

SCENE for the First AEt in Venice; during the

rest of the Play in Cyprus.

Tbe Story is taken from Cynthio's Novels. Pope.


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Enter Rodorigo and lago.

EVER tell me, I take it much unkindly,

That thou, Iago, who haft had my purse,

As if the strings were thine, shouldit know

of this

lago. But you'll not hear me.
If ever I did dream of such a matter,
1'Abhor me then.".

Rod. Thou told’ft me, thou didst hold
Him in thy hate.

lago. Despise me if I do not.
Three great ones of the city, in personal fuit
To make me his lieutenant, oft' capt to him :
And, by the faith of man, I know my price,
I'm worth no worse a place. But he, as loving
*'His pride and purposes, evades them with
A bumbast circumstance, horribly stuft
With epithets of war; and in conclusion
Non-suits my mediators ; Certes, says he,
I have already chose my officer.

And 1 Abhor me.

2 His own pride and purpose,

Ee 4


Moor of Venice. And what was he? Forsooth a great arithmetician, One Michael Casio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damn'd in a fair 3'phyz;l b That never fet a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster; but the bookish theorique, Wherein the tongued consuls can propose As masterly as he; meer prattle, without practice, Is all his soldiership he had the election; And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds Christian and heathen, must be belee'd and calm'd By +'Debtor, and Creditor, this Counter-caster. He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I, God bless the mark! his Moor-ship's Ancient,

Rod. By heav'n, I rather would have been his hangman.

Iago. But 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 your self, If I in any just term am afsign'd ; To love the Moor.

Rod. I would not follow him then.

Iago. O Sir, content you ;
I follow himn to serve my turn upon him.
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow’d. 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 (a) It is plain from many other pasages in the Play (rightly underfood) that Casio was a Fiorentine and lago a Venetian.

(5) In all the former editions this hath been printed a fair wife, but Jurely it muft from the beginning have been a mistake, because it apfears from a following part in the Play that Caffio was an unmarried man : on the other hand bis Beauty is often hinted at, which it is natural enough for otber rough faldiers to treat with fcorn and ridicule,

4 Debitor,

3 wife;

For nought but provender, and when old, 's cashier'd;
Whip me such honest knaves—Others there are
Who trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And throwing but shows of service on their Lords,
Well thrive by them; and when they've lin’d their coats,
Do themselves homage. These folks have some soul,
And such a one do l profess my felf.
It is as sure as you are Rodorigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but my felf.
Heav'n is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end :
For when my outward action doch 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'm not what I seem.

Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,
If he can carry her thus !

Iago. Call up her father,
Roule him, make after him, poison his delight.
Proclaim him in the streets, incense her kinsmen.
And tho' he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies: tho' that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
As it may lose some colour.

Rod. Here is her father's house, I'll call aloud.

lago. Do, with like timorous accent, and dire yell, As when, by night and negligence, s'a' fire Is spied in populous cities.

Rod. What, ho! Brabantio! Signior Brabantio! ho!

Iago. Awake! what, ho! Brabantio! ho! thieves ! thieves! Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags : Thieves ! thieves !


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Enter Brabantio above, at a window.
Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons?
What is the matter there?

Rad. Signior, is all your family within?
Iago. Are all doors lock'd?
Bra. Why? wherefore ask you this?

[your gown,
Iago. Zounds! Sir, you're robb'd : for shame put on
Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
Ev'n now, ev'n 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 grandfire of you.
Arise, I say.
Bra. What, have you loft


Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?
Bra. Not l; what are you?
Rod. My name is Rodorigo.

Bra. The worse welcome;
I've charg'd thee not to haunt about my doors :
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say,
My daughter's not for thee. And now in madness,
Being full of supper and distemp'ring draughts,
Upon malicious bravery dost thou come
To start my quiet.

Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir,

Bra. But thou must needs be sure,
My spirit and my place have in their power
To make this bitter to thee.
Rod. Patience, good Sir.

Bra. What tellst thou me of robbing? this is Venice : My house is not a grange.

Rod. Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul, I come to you.

Iago. Sir, you are not one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service,


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