Othello - William Shakespeare (autobiographies to read TXT) 📗

Othello

By William Shakespeare.

Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint Dramatis Personae Othello Act I Scene I Scene II Scene III Act II Scene I Scene II Scene III Act III Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Act IV Scene I Scene II Scene III Act V Scene I Scene II Colophon Uncopyright Imprint

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Dramatis Personae

Duke of Venice

Brabantio, a senator

Other senators

Gratiano, brother to Brabantio

Lodovico, kinsman to Brabantio

Othello, a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state

Cassio, his lieutenant

Iago, his ancient

Roderigo, a Venetian gentleman

Montano, Othello’s predecessor in the government of Cyprus

Clown, servant to Othello

Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello

Emilia, wife to Iago

Bianca, mistress to Cassio

Sailor, messenger, herald, officers, gentlemen, musicians, and attendants

Scene: Venice; A sea-port in Cyprus.

Othello Act I Scene I

Venice. A street.

Enter Roderigo and Iago. Roderigo

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

Iago

’Sblood, but you will not hear me:
If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.

Roderigo 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,
Off-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,” 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;
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
Wherein the toged consuls can propose
As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise,
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,
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I⁠—God bless the mark!⁠—his Moorship’s ancient.

Roderigo By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. Iago

Why, 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 the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,
Whether I in any just term am affined
To love the Moor.

Roderigo I would not follow him then. Iago

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, 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,
Do well thrive by them and when they have lined
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, ’tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

Roderigo

What a full fortune does the thicklips owe
If he can carry’t thus!

Iago

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.

Roderigo Here is her father’s house; I’ll call aloud. Iago

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

Roderigo What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! Iago

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

Brabantio appears above, at a window. Brabantio

What is the reason of this terrible summons?
What is the matter there?

Roderigo Signior, is all your family within? Iago Are your doors lock’d? Brabantio Why, wherefore ask you this? Iago

’Zounds, sir, you’re robb’d; for shame, put on your gown;
Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
Is topping 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.

Brabantio What, have you lost your wits? Roderigo Most reverend signior, do you