Imatges de pÓgina
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TUSH, never tell me, I take it much unkindly,
That thou, Iago,-who hast had my purse,
As if the strings were thine,-should'st know of this.
Jago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me :-
If ever I did dream of such a matter,

Abhor me.

Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.

Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,

In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Oft capp'd' to him;-and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance,?
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion, nonsuits

My mediators; for, certes,3 says he,
I have already chose my officer.
And what was he?

Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;4
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,5
Wherein the toged consuls can propose
As masterly as he mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, 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 be-lee'd and calm'd
By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster :7
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,

(1) Saluted.

(2) Circumlocution. (3) Certainly.

And I, (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's ancient.

Rod. By heaven I rather would have been his hangman.

Iago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of service;

Preferment goes by letter, and affection,
Not by the old gradation, where each second
Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,
Whether I in any just term am affin'd
To love the Moor.


I would not follow him then. lago. O, sir, content you;

I follow him 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 nought but provender; and, when he's old,

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,
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd
their coats,

Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;

And such a one do I profess myself.
For, sir,

It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern,9 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

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(7) It was anciently the practice to reckon up

(4) For wife some read life, supposing it to al-sums with counters. lude to the denunciation in the Gospel, wo unto

ou when all men shall speak well of you.

(8) Related.

(9) Outward show of civility.

Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,1
If he can carry't thus!

Call up her father,
Rouse him make after him, poison his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,
And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies: though 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

As when, by night and negligence, the fire
Is spied in populous cities.

Rod. What, ho! Brabantio! signior Brabantio,

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You are a senator.
Bra. This thou shalt answer: I

Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing.
seech you,

But I be

If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent
(As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter,
At this odd-even6 and dull watch o'the night,
Transported-with no worse nor better guard,
But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,-
If this be known to you, and your allowance,8
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
But, if you know not this, my manners tell me,
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,
That, from the sense of all civility,

Jago. Awake! what, ho! Brabantio! thieves!I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:

thieves thieves!

Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,

Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
Thieves! thieves!

Brabantio, above, at a window.

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible mons?

What is the matter there?

Rod. Signior, is all your family within?
Iago. Are your doors lock'd?
Why? wherefore ask you this?
Jago. Zounds, sir, you are robb'd; for shame,
put on your gown:

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Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,
In an extravagant9 and wheeling stranger,
Of here and every where: Straight satisfy yourself:
sum-If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Give me a taper;-call up all my people :-
This accident is not unlike my dream,
Belief of it oppresses me already :-
Light, I say! light!
[Exit from above.
Farewell; for I must leave you :
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produc'd (as, if I stay, I shall,)
Against the Moor: For, I do know, the state,-
However this may gall him with some check,—
Cannot with safety cast10 him; for he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars,
(Which even now stand in act,) that, for their

Your heart is burst,2 you have lost half your soul;
Even now, 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 grandsire of you:
Arise, I say.

Bra. What, have you lost your wits?
Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my


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Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is

Another of his fathom they have not,
To lead their business: in which regard,
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,
Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely
find him,

Lead to the Sagittary the rais'd search;
And there will I be with him. So, farewell. [Ex.
Enter below, Brabantio, and Servants with torches.

Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is ;
And what's to come of my despised time,11
Is nought but bitterness.-Now, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her?-O, unhappy girl!—
With the Moor, say'st thou?-Who would be a

How didst thou know 'twas she? O, thou deceiv'st


My house is not a grange.4 Rod. Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you. Iago. Zounds, sir, you are one of those, that will Past thought!-What said she to you?-Get more not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we tapers; come to do you service, you think we are ruffians You'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you: you'll have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans.5


Bra. What profane wretch art thou? lago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you, your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

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Raise all my kindred,-Are they married think you?
Rod. Truly, I think, they are.

Bra. O heaven!-How got she out!-O treason
of the blood!-

Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
By what you see them act.-Are there not charms,
By which the property of youth and maidhood
May be abus'd? Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing?

(6) Midnight.

(8) Approbation.

Yes, sir; I have indeed.

(7) A waterman.

(9) Wandering. (10) Dismiss. (11) Old age.

Bra. Call up my brother.-O, that you had had | When, being not at your lodging to be found,


Some one way, some another.-Do you know Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? Rod. I think, I can discover him; if you please To get good guard, and go along with me.

Bra. Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call ; I may command at most;-Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night.— On, good Roderigo;-I'll deserve your pains. [Exeunt. SCENE 11-The same. Another street. Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants.

lago. Though in the trade of war I have slain


Yet do I hold it very stuff o'the conscience,
To do no contriv'd murder; I lack iniquity
Sometimes, to do me service: Nine or ten times
I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.
Oth. 'Tis better as it is.

Nay, but he prated,
And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
Against your honour,

That, with the little godliness I have,

I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray, sir,
Are you fast married? for, be sure of this,-
That the magnifico! is much beloved;
And hath, in his effect, a voice potential
As double as the duke's: he will divorce you;
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
The law (with all his might, to enforce it on,)
Will 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 honour,
I shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege;2 and my demerits3
May speak, unbonneted,4 to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach'd: For know, lago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhouseds free condition
Put into circumscription and confine

The senate hath sent about three several quests,7 To search you out.


I will but spend a And go with you. Cas.

'Tis well I am found by you. word here in the house,


Ancient, what makes he here?

lago. 'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land

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my daughter?

Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her:
For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
Whether a maid-so tender, fair, and happy;
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd'
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,-
Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
Of such a thing as thou: to fear, not to delight.9
Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense,

For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms;


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Cas. The duke does greet you, general;| And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, Even on the instant.

Oth. What is the matter, think you?| Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine; It is a business of some heat: the galleys Have sent a dozen sequent messengers This very night at one another's heels;

And many of the consuls, rais'd, and met,

Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals,
That waken motion :-I'll have it disputed on;
Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.

I therefore apprehend and do attach thee,
For an abuser of the world, a practiser
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant :-
Lay hold upon him; if he do resist,
Subdue him 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.-Where will you that I go To answer this your charge?

To prison: till fit time
Of law, and course of direct session,
Call 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?

'Tis true, most worthy signior,

Are at the duke's already: You have been hotly The duke's in council; and your noble self,

call'd for;

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I am sure, is sent for.

(4) Uncovered.
(6) Following.

(8) A rich vessel.

(5) Unsettled.

(7) Searchers.

(9) To terrify, not delight,


How the duke in council!!! 1 Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant

In this time of the night!-Bring him away:
Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself,
Or any of my brothers of the state,
Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own:
For if such actions may have passage free,
Bond-slaves, and pagans, shall our statesmen be.
SCENE III-The same. A council-chamber.

The Duke, and Senators, sitting at a table; Of

ficers attending.

Duke. There is no composition2 in these news, That gives them credit.

1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion'd; My letters say, a hundred and seven galleys. Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty. 2 Sen. And mine, two hundred: But though they jump not on a just account (As in these cases, where the aim3 reports, 'Tis oft with difference,) yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment;

I do not so secure me in the error,

But the main article I do approve

In fearful sense.


Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and

Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ

Against the general enemy Ottoman.
I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
[To Brabantio.
We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night.
Bra. So did I yours: Good your grace, pardon

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Dead? Ay, to me;

She is abus'd, stol'n from me and corrupted
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks:

Sailor. [Within.] What ho! what ho! what ho! For nature so preposterously to err,

Enter an Officer, with a Sailor.

Off. A messenger from the galleys.


Now? the business?

Being not deficient, blind or lame of sense,
Sans witchcraft could not-

Duke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul pro-

Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes; Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself, So was I bid report here to the state,

By signior Angelo.

Duke. How say you by this change? 1 Sen.

This cannot be,

By no assay of reason; 'tis a pageant,
To keep us in false gaze: When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk;
And let ourselves again but understand,
That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question4 bear it,
For that it stands not in such warlike brace,5
But altogether lacks the abilities

That Rhodes is dress'd in:-if we make thought

of this,

We must not think, the Turk is so unskilful,
To leave that latest which concerns him first;
Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,
To wake, and wage,6 a danger profitless.
Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
Off. Here is more news.

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Duke. What, in your own part, can you say to [To Othello.


Bra. Nothing but, this is so.
Oth. 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 bless'd with the set phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us'd
Their dearest action9 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 pa

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That will confess-perfection so could err
Against all rules of nature; and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning hell,
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again,
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjur'd to this effect,
He wrought upon her.

To vouch this, is no proof;
Without more certain and more overt test,'
Than these thin habits, and
poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming,2 do prefer against him.
1 Sen. But, Othello, speak ;-
Did you by indirect and forced courses
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?


I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary,3 And let her speak of me before her father:


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.
Oth. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the
place. [Exeunt Iago and Attendants.
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.

Duke. Say it, Othello.

Oth. Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.

I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field;
Of hair-breadth 'scapes i'the imminent deadly

Of being taken by the insolent foe,

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And portance in my travel's history:
Wherein of antres5 vast, and deserts idle,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch

It was my hint to speak, such was the process;
And of the cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads

'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:

She wish'd, she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me;

And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake :
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd;
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd;
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.

Enter Desdemona, lago, and Attendants. Duke. I think, this tale would win my daughter too.

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My noble father,

I do perceive here a divided duty:
To you, I am bound for life, and education;
My life, and education, both do learn me
How to respect you; you are the lord of duty,
I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my hus-

And so much duty as my mother show'd

To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.

Bra. God be with you!-I have done :-
Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs;
I had rather to adopt a child, than get it.-
Come hither, Moor:

here do give thee that with all my heart, Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart I would keep from thee -For your sake, jewel, I am glad at soul I have no other child; For thy escape would teach me tyranny, To hang clogs on them.-I have done, my lord. Duke. Let me speak like yourself; and lay a


Which, as a grise,8 or step, may help these lovers Into your favour.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,

Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.


Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house-affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,
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 7 I did consent;
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke,
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
She swore,-In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing

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To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserv'd, when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.

The robb'd, that smiles, steals something from the thief;

He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.

Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile; We lose it not, so long as we can smile. He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears But the free comfort which from thence he hears : But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow, That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. These sentences, to sugar, or to gall, Being strong on both sides, are equivocal : But words are words; I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear.9

(7) Intention and attention were once synonymous, (8) Grise from degrees.

(9) i. e. That the wounds of sorrow were ever cured by the words of consolation. 4 B

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