Complete Plays, The

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Complete Plays, The Page 87

by William Shakespeare


  All

  Hector! the gods forbid!

  Troilus

  He’s dead; and at the murderer’s horse’s tail,

  In beastly sort, dragg’d through the shameful field.

  Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed!

  Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy!

  I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy,

  And linger not our sure destructions on!

  Aeneas

  My lord, you do discomfort all the host!

  Troilus

  You understand me not that tell me so:

  I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death,

  But dare all imminence that gods and men

  Address their dangers in. Hector is gone:

  Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?

  Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call’d,

  Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector’s dead:

  There is a word will Priam turn to stone;

  Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,

  Cold statues of the youth, and, in a word,

  Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away:

  Hector is dead; there is no more to say.

  Stay yet. You vile abominable tents,

  Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,

  Let Titan rise as early as he dare,

  I’ll through and through you! and, thou great-sized coward,

  No space of earth shall sunder our two hates:

  I’ll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,

  That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy’s thoughts.

  Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go:

  Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

  Exeunt Aeneas and Trojans

  As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other side, Pandarus

  Pandarus

  But hear you, hear you!

  Troilus

  Hence, broker-lackey! ignomy and shame

  Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name!

  Exit

  Pandarus

  A goodly medicine for my aching bones! O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! why should our endeavour be so loved and the performance so loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it? Let me see:

  Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,

  Till he hath lost his honey and his sting;

  And being once subdued in armed tail,

  Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail.

  Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths.

  As many as be here of pander’s hall,

  Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar’s fall;

  Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,

  Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.

  Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade,

  Some two months hence my will shall here be made:

  It should be now, but that my fear is this,

  Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss:

  Till then I’ll sweat and seek about for eases,

  And at that time bequeathe you my diseases.

  Exit

  Othello, the Moor of Venice

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

  ACT I

  SCENE I. VENICE. A STREET.

  SCENE II. ANOTHER STREET.

  SCENE III. A COUNCIL-CHAMBER.

  ACT II

  SCENE I. A SEA-PORT IN CYPRUS. AN OPEN PLACE NEAR THE QUAY.

  SCENE II. A STREET.

  SCENE III. A HALL IN THE CASTLE.

  ACT III

  SCENE I. BEFORE THE CASTLE.

  SCENE II. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE III. THE GARDEN OF THE CASTLE.

  SCENE IV. BEFORE THE CASTLE.

  ACT IV

  SCENE I. CYPRUS. BEFORE THE CASTLE.

  SCENE II. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE III. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  ACT V

  SCENE I. CYPRUS. A STREET.

  SCENE II. A BEDCHAMBER IN THE CASTLE: DESDEMONA IN BED ASLEEP;

  CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

  Othello, the Moor, general of the Venetian forces.

  Desdemona, his wife.

  Iago, ensign to Othello.

  Emilia, his wife, lady-in-waiting to Desdemona.

  Cassio, lieutenant to Othello.

  The Duke Of Venice.

  Brabantio, Venetian Senator, father of Desdemona.

  Gratiano, nobleman of Venice, brother of Brabantio.

  Lodovico, nobleman of Venice, kinsman of Brabantio.

  Roderigo, rejected suitor of Desdemona.

  Bianca, mistress of Cassio.

  Montano, a Cypriot official.

  A Clown in service to Othello.

  Senators, Sailors, Messengers, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and Attendants.

  Scene: Venice and Cyprus.

  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 know my voice?

  Brabantio

  Not I what are you?

  Roderigo

  My name is Roderigo.

  Brabantio

  The worser welcome:

  I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:

  In honest plainness thou hast heard me say

  My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,

  Being full of supper and distempering draughts,

  Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come

  To start my quiet.

  Roderigo

  Sir, sir, sir,—

  Brabantio

  But thou must needs be sure

  My spirit and my place have in them power

  To make this bitter to thee.

  Roderigo

  Patience, good sir.

  Brabantio

  What tell’st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;

  My house is not a grange.

  Roderigo

  Most grave Brabantio,

  In simple and pure soul I come to you.

  Iago

  ’Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and 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.

  Brabantio

  What profane wretch art thou?

  Iago

  I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

  Brabantio

  Thou art a villain.

  Iago

  You are — a senator.

  Brabantio

  This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.

  Roderigo

  Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you,

  If’t be your pleasure and most wise consent,

  As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,

  At this odd-even 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,

  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,

  I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:

  Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,

  I say again, hath made a gross revolt;

  Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes

  In an extravagant and wheeling stranger

  Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:

  If she be in her chamber or your house,

  Let loose on me the justice of the state

  For thus deluding you.

  Brabantio

  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 above

  Iago

  Farewell; for I must leave you:

  It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,

  To be produced — as, if I stay, I shall —

  Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state,

  However this may gall him with some cheque,

  Cannot with safety cast him, for he’s embark’d

  With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,

  Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls,

  Another of his fathom they have none,

  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 raised search;

  And there will I be with him. So, farewell.

  Exit

  Enter, below, Brabantio, and Servants with torches

  Brabantio

  It is too true an evil: gone she is;

  And what’s to come of my despised time

  Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo,

  Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl!

  With the Moor, say’st thou? Who would be a father!

  How didst thou know ’twas she? O she deceives me

  Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers:

  Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you?

  Roderigo

  Truly, I think they are.

  Brabantio

  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. Is there not charms

  By which the property of youth and maidhood

  May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,

  Of some such thing?

  Roderigo

  Ye
s, sir, I have indeed.

  Brabantio

  Call up my brother. O, would you had had her!

  Some one way, some another. Do you know

  Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?

  Roderigo

  I think I can discover him, if you please,

  To get good guard and go along with me.

  Brabantio

  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 II. ANOTHER STREET.

  Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants with torches

  Iago

  Though in the trade of war I have slain men,

  Yet do I hold it very stuff o’ the conscience

  To do no contrived 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.

  Othello

  ’Tis better as it is.

  Iago

  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 you, sir,

  Are you fast married? Be assured 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.

  Othello

  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, and my demerits

  May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune

  As this that I have reach’d: for know, Iago,

  But that I love the gentle Desdemona,

  I would not my unhoused free condition

  Put into circumscription and confine

  For the sea’s worth. But, look! what lights come yond?

  Iago

  Those are the raised father and his friends:

  You were best go in.

  Othello

  Not I I must be found:

  My parts, my title and my perfect soul

  Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?

  Iago

  By Janus, I think no.

  Enter Cassio, and certain Officers with torches

  Othello

  The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant.

  The goodness of the night upon you, friends!

 

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