Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  Othello

  The tyrant custom, most grave senators,

  Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war

  My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnise

  A natural and prompt alacrity

  I find in hardness, and do undertake

  These present wars against the Ottomites.

  Most humbly therefore bending to your state,

  I crave fit disposition for my wife.

  Due reference of place and exhibition,

  With such accommodation and besort

  As levels with her breeding.

  Duke Of Venice

  If you please,

  Be’t at her father’s.

  Brabantio

  I’ll not have it so.

  Othello

  Nor I.

  Desdemona

  Nor I; I would not there reside,

  To put my father in impatient thoughts

  By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,

  To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear;

  And let me find a charter in your voice,

  To assist my simpleness.

  Duke Of Venice

  What would You, Desdemona?

  Desdemona

  That I did love the Moor to live with him,

  My downright violence and storm of fortunes

  May trumpet to the world: my heart’s subdued

  Even to the very quality of my lord:

  I saw Othello’s visage in his mind,

  And to his honour and his valiant parts

  Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.

  So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,

  A moth of peace, and he go to the war,

  The rites for which I love him are bereft me,

  And I a heavy interim shall support

  By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

  Othello

  Let her have your voices.

  Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not,

  To please the palate of my appetite,

  Nor to comply with heat — the young affects

  In me defunct — and proper satisfaction.

  But to be free and bounteous to her mind:

  And heaven defend your good souls, that you think

  I will your serious and great business scant

  For she is with me: no, when light-wing’d toys

  Of feather’d Cupid seal with wanton dullness

  My speculative and officed instruments,

  That my disports corrupt and taint my business,

  Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,

  And all indign and base adversities

  Make head against my estimation!

  Duke Of Venice

  Be it as you shall privately determine,

  Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste,

  And speed must answer it.

  First Senator

  You must away to-night.

  Othello

  With all my heart.

  Duke Of Venice

  At nine i’ the morning here we’ll meet again.

  Othello, leave some officer behind,

  And he shall our commission bring to you;

  With such things else of quality and respect

  As doth import you.

  Othello

  So please your grace, my ancient;

  A man he is of honest and trust:

  To his conveyance I assign my wife,

  With what else needful your good grace shall think

  To be sent after me.

  Duke Of Venice

  Let it be so.

  Good night to every one.

  To Brabantio

  And, noble signior,

  If virtue no delighted beauty lack,

  Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

  First Senator

  Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.

  Brabantio

  Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:

  She has deceived her father, and may thee.

  Exeunt Duke Of Venice, Senators, Officers, & c

  Othello

  My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,

  My Desdemona must I leave to thee:

  I prithee, let thy wife attend on her:

  And bring them after in the best advantage.

  Come, Desdemona: I have but an hour

  Of love, of worldly matters and direction,

  To spend with thee: we must obey the time.

  Exeunt Othello and Desdemona

  Roderigo

  Iago,—

  Iago

  What say’st thou, noble heart?

  Roderigo

  What will I do, thinkest thou?

  Iago

  Why, go to bed, and sleep.

  Roderigo

  I will incontinently drown myself.

  Iago

  If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou silly gentleman!

  Roderigo

  It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

  Iago

  O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four times seven years; and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.

  Roderigo

  What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.

  Iago

  Virtue! a fig! ’tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions: but we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect or scion.

  Roderigo

  It cannot be.

  Iago

  It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor,— put money in thy purse,— nor he his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration:— put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills: fill thy purse with money:— the food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice: she must have change, she must: therefore put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her.

  Roderigo

  Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue?

  Iago

  Thou art sure of me:— go, make money:— I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered. Traverse!
go, provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu.

  Roderigo

  Where shall we meet i’ the morning?

  Iago

  At my lodging.

  Roderigo

  I’ll be with thee betimes.

  Iago

  Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

  Roderigo

  What say you?

  Iago

  No more of drowning, do you hear?

  Roderigo

  I am changed: I’ll go sell all my land.

  Exit

  Iago

  Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:

  For I mine own gain’d knowledge should profane,

  If I would time expend with such a snipe.

  But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor:

  And it is thought abroad, that ’twixt my sheets

  He has done my office: I know not if’t be true;

  But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,

  Will do as if for surety. He holds me well;

  The better shall my purpose work on him.

  Cassio’s a proper man: let me see now:

  To get his place and to plume up my will

  In double knavery — How, how? Let’s see:—

  After some time, to abuse Othello’s ear

  That he is too familiar with his wife.

  He hath a person and a smooth dispose

  To be suspected, framed to make women false.

  The Moor is of a free and open nature,

  That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,

  And will as tenderly be led by the nose

  As asses are.

  I have’t. It is engender’d. Hell and night

  Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light.

  Exit

  ACT II

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

  Enter Montano and two Gentlemen

  Montano

  What from the cape can you discern at sea?

  First Gentleman

  Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood;

  I cannot, ’twixt the heaven and the main,

  Descry a sail.

  Montano

  Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;

  A fuller blast ne’er shook our battlements:

  If it hath ruffian’d so upon the sea,

  What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,

  Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?

  Second Gentleman

  A segregation of the Turkish fleet:

  For do but stand upon the foaming shore,

  The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds;

  The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,

  Seems to cast water on the burning bear,

  And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:

  I never did like molestation view

  On the enchafed flood.

  Montano

  If that the Turkish fleet

  Be not enshelter’d and embay’d, they are drown’d:

  It is impossible they bear it out.

  Enter a third Gentleman

  Third Gentleman

  News, lads! our wars are done.

  The desperate tempest hath so bang’d the Turks,

  That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice

  Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance

  On most part of their fleet.

  Montano

  How! is this true?

  Third Gentleman

  The ship is here put in,

  A Veronesa; Michael Cassio,

  Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,

  Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea,

  And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

  Montano

  I am glad on’t; ’tis a worthy governor.

  Third Gentleman

  But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort

  Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,

  And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted

  With foul and violent tempest.

  Montano

  Pray heavens he be;

  For I have served him, and the man commands

  Like a full soldier. Let’s to the seaside, ho!

  As well to see the vessel that’s come in

  As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,

  Even till we make the main and the aerial blue

  An indistinct regard.

  Third Gentleman

  Come, let’s do so:

  For every minute is expectancy

  Of more arrivance.

  Enter Cassio

  Cassio

  Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,

  That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens

  Give him defence against the elements,

  For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea.

  Montano

  Is he well shipp’d?

  Cassio

  His bark is stoutly timber’d, his pilot

  Of very expert and approved allowance;

  Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,

  Stand in bold cure.

  A cry within ‘A sail, a sail, a sail!’

  Enter a fourth Gentleman

  Cassio

  What noise?

  Fourth Gentleman

  The town is empty; on the brow o’ the sea

  Stand ranks of people, and they cry ‘A sail!’

  Cassio

  My hopes do shape him for the governor.

  Guns heard

  Second Gentlemen

  They do discharge their shot of courtesy:

  Our friends at least.

  Cassio

  I pray you, sir, go forth,

  And give us truth who ’tis that is arrived.

  Second Gentleman

  I shall.

  Exit

  Montano

  But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?

  Cassio

  Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid

  That paragons description and wild fame;

  One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,

  And in the essential vesture of creation

  Does tire the ingener.

  Re-enter second Gentleman

  How now! who has put in?

  Second Gentleman

  ’Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.

  Cassio

  Has had most favourable and happy speed:

  Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,

  The gutter’d rocks and congregated sands —

  Traitors ensteep’d to clog the guiltless keel,—

  As having sense of beauty, do omit

  Their mortal natures, letting go safely by

  The divine Desdemona.

  Montano

  What is she?

  Cassio

  She that I spake of, our great captain’s captain,

  Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,

  Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts

  A se’nnight’s speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,

  And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,

  That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,

  Make love’s quick pants in Desdemona’s arms,

  Give renew’d fire to our extincted spirits

  And bring all Cyprus comfort!

  Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Roderigo, and Attendants

  O, behold,

  The riches of the ship is come on shore!

  Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.

  Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,

  Before, behind thee, and on every hand,

  Enwheel thee round!

  Desdemona

  I thank you, valiant Cassio.

  What tidings can you tell me of my lord?

  Cassio

  He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught

&
nbsp; But that he’s well and will be shortly here.

  Desdemona

  O, but I fear — How lost you company?

  Cassio

  The great contention of the sea and skies

  Parted our fellowship — But, hark! a sail.

  Within ‘A sail, a sail!’ Guns heard

  Second Gentleman

  They give their greeting to the citadel;

  This likewise is a friend.

  Cassio

  See for the news.

  Exit Gentleman

  Good ancient, you are welcome.

  To Emilia

  Welcome, mistress.

  Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,

  That I extend my manners; ’tis my breeding

  That gives me this bold show of courtesy.

  Kissing her

  Iago

  Sir, would she give you so much of her lips

  As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,

  You’ll have enough.

  Desdemona

  Alas, she has no speech.

  Iago

  In faith, too much;

  I find it still, when I have list to sleep:

  Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,

  She puts her tongue a little in her heart,

  And chides with thinking.

  Emilia

  You have little cause to say so.

  Iago

  Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,

  Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,

  Saints m your injuries, devils being offended,

  Players in your housewifery, and housewives’ in your beds.

  Desdemona

  O, fie upon thee, slanderer!

  Iago

  Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk:

  You rise to play and go to bed to work.

  Emilia

  You shall not write my praise.

  Iago

  No, let me not.

  Desdemona

  What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?

  Iago

  O gentle lady, do not put me to’t;

  For I am nothing, if not critical.

  Desdemona

  Come on assay. There’s one gone to the harbour?

  Iago

  Ay, madam.

  Desdemona

  I am not merry; but I do beguile

  The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.

  Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

  Iago

  I am about it; but indeed my invention

  Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize;

  It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours,

  And thus she is deliver’d.

  If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,

  The one’s for use, the other useth it.

  Desdemona

  Well praised! How if she be black and witty?

  Iago

  If she be black, and thereto have a wit,

  She’ll find a white that shall her blackness fit.