THE Tragedy of Othello, The Moor of Venice. As it hath been divers times acted at the Globe, and at the Blackfriars, by his Majesty's Servants.  
Written by William Shakespeare.  
LONDON, Printed by N. O. for Thomas Walkley, and are to be sold 〈…〉 shop, at the Eagle and Child, in Britain's Burse, 1622.   

The Stationer to the Reader.  
TO set forth a book without an Epistle, were like to the old English proverb, A blue coat without a badge, & the Author being dead, I thought good to take that piece of work upon me: To commend it, I will not, for that which is good, I hope every man will commend, without entreaty: and I am the bolder, because the Author's name is sufficient to vent his work. Thus leaving every one to the liberty of judgement: I have ventured to print this Play, and leave it to the general censure.  
Yours, Thomas Walkley.   

The Tragedy of Othello the Moor of Venice.  Enter jago and Roderigo. Roderigo. 
Tush, never tell me, I take it much unkindly  
That you jago, who has had my purse,  
As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.  jag. 
'Sblood, but you will not hear me,  
If ever I did dream of such a matter, abhor me.  Rod. 
Thou toldst me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.  jag. 
Despise me if I do not: three great ones of the City  
In personal suit to make me his Lieutenant,  
Oft capt 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 stuffed with Epithets of war:  
And in conclusion,  
Non-suits my mediators: for certes, says he,  
I have already chosen my officer, and what was he?  
Forsooth, a great Arithmetition,  
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,  
A fellow almost damned in a fair wife,  
That never set a squadrens 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 practice,  
Is all his souldier-shippe: but he sir had the election,  
And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof,  
At Rhodes, at Cypress, and on other grounds,  
Christian and Heathen, must be led, and calmed,  
By Debtor and Creditor, this Counter-caster:  
He in good time, must his Lieutenant be,  
And I, God bless the mark, his Worship's Ancient.  Rod. 
By heaven I rather would have been his hangman.  ja. 
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 assigned  
to love the Moor.  Rod. 
I would not follow him then.  la. 
O sir, content you,  
I follow him to serve my turn upon him,  
We cannot be all masters, nor all masters  
Cannot be truly followed, 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 'nough but provender, and when he's old cashiered,  
Whip me such honest knaves:  
Others there are, who trimmed in forms,  
And vissages of duty, keep yet their hearts,  
Attending on themselves, and throwing  
But shows of service on their Lords,  
Do well thrive by 'em,  
And when they have lined their coats,  
Do themselves homage,  
Those 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 does 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 Doves to peck at,  
I am not what I am.  Rod. 
What a full fortune does the thicklips own,  
If he can carry'et thus?  ja. 
Call up her father.  
Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight,  
Proclaim him in the street, 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 out,  
As it may lose 〈◊〉 colour.  Rod 
Here is her father's house, I'll call aloud.  ja. 
Do with like timorous accent, and dire yell,  
As when by night and negligence, the fire  
Is spied in populous Cities.  Rod. 
What ho, Brabantio, Signior Brabantio, ho,  ja. 
Awake, what ho, Brabantio,  
Thiefs, thiefs, thiefs:  
Look to your house, you Daughter, and your bags,  
Thiefs, thiefs.  Brabantio at a window. Brab. 
What is the reason of this terrible summons?  
What is the matter there?  Rod. 
Signior, is all your family within?  ja. 
Are all door lockts?  Brab. 
Why, wherefore ask you this?  jag. 
Zounds sir you are robbed, for shame put on your gown,  
Your heart is burst, you have lost halfe 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.  Brab. 
What, have you lost your wits?  Rod. 
Most reverend Signior, do you know my voice?  Bra. 
Not I, what are you?  Rod. 
My name is Roderigo.  Bra. 
The worse 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?  Rod. 
Sir, sir, sir.  Bra. 
But thou must needs be sure  
My spirit and my place have in them powe●●  
To make this bitter to thee.  Rod. 
Patience good sir.  Bra. 
What, tell'st 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.  jag. 
Zouns Sir, you are one of those, that will not serve God, if the Devil bid you. Because we 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 Cousens, and jennits for jermans.  Bra. 
What profane wretch art thou?  jag. 
I am one sir, that come to tell you, your daughter, and the  
Moor, are now making the Beast with two backs.  Bra. 
Thou art a villain.  jag. 
You are a Senator.  Bra. 
This thou shalt answer, I know thee Roderigo.  Rod. 
Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech you,  
If she be in her  
Let lose on me the justice of the state,  
For this delusion.  Bra. 
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.  jag. 
Farewell, for I must leave you,  
It seems not meet, not whole some to my pate,  
To be produced, as if I stay I shall  
Against the Moor, for I do know the state,  
How ever this may gall him with some check,  
Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embarked,  
With such loud reason, to the Cipres wars,  
Which even now stands in act, that for their souls,  
Another of his fathom, they have not  
To lead their business, in which regard,  
Tho I do hate him, as I do hell's 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 Sagittar, the raised search,  
And there will I be with him. So farewell.  Exit. Enter Barbantio in his night . Bra. 
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 saist thou? who would be a father?  
How didst thou know 't was she? O thou deceivest me  
Past thought: what said she to you? get more tapers,  
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 Daughter's minds,  
By what you see them act, is there not charms,  
By which the property of youth and manhood  
May be abused? have you not read Roderigo,  
Of some such thing.  Rod. 
I have sir.  Bra. 
Call up my brother: O that you had had her,  
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 lead me 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. Enter Othello, Iago, and attendants with Torches. ja. 
Tho in the trade of war, I have slain men,  
Yet do I hold it very stuffed of Conscience.  
To do no contrived murder; I lack iniquity  
Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten time's,  
I had thought to have ierked him here,  
Under the ribs.  Oth. 
'tis better as it is.  jag. 
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 Dukes, he will divorce you,  
Or put upon you what restraint, and grievance,  
That law with all his might  
we'll give him cable.  Oth. 
Let him do his spite,  
My services which I have done the signory,  
Shall out tongue his complaints, 'tis yet to know,  
That boasting is an honour,  
I shall provulgate, I fetch my life and being,  
From men of royal height, and my demerrits,  
May speak unbonnited to as proud a fortune  
As this that I have reached; for know jago;  
But that I love the gentle Desdemonae,  
I would not, my unhoused free condition,  
Put into circumscription and confine  
For the seas worth,  Enter Cassio with lights, Officers, and torches. 
But look what lights come yonder.  Ia. 
These are the raised Father and his friends,  
You were best go in:  Oth. 
Not I, I must be found,  
My parts, my Title, and my perfect soul,  
Shall manifest me rightly: it is they.  Ia. 
By Ianus I think no.  Oth. 
The servants of the Duke, and my Lieutenant,  
The goodness of the night upon your friends,  
What is the news.  Cas. 
The Duke does greet you General,  
And he requires your haste, post hast appearance,  
Even on the instant.  Oth. 
What's the matter think you:  Cas. 
Something from Cypress, as I may divine,  
It is a business of some heat, the Galleys  
Have sent a dozen frequent messengers  
This very night, at one anothets heels:  
And many of the Consuls raised, and met,  
Are at the Dukes already; you have been hotly called for,  
When being not at your lodging to be found,  
The Senate sent above three several quests  
To search you out.  Otht 
'tis well I am found by you,  
I'll spend a word here in the house, and go with you.  Cas. 
Ancient, what makes he here?  ja. 
Faith he to night, hath boarded a land Carrick;  
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.  Cas. 
I do not understand.  ja. 
he's married,  Cas. 
To who?  Enters Brabantio, Roderigo, and others with lights and weapons. ja. 
Marry to.— Come Captain, will you go?  Oth. 
Ha', with who?  Cas. 
Here comes another troop to seek for you.  ja. 
It is Brabantio, General be advised,  
He comes to bad intent.  Oth. 
Holla, stand there.  Rod. 
Signior, it is the Moor.  Cra. 
Down with him thief.  ja. 
You Roderigo, Come sir, I am for you.  Oth. 
Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust 'em,  
Good Signior you shall more command with years  
Then with your weapons.  Bra. 
O thou foul thief, where hast thou stowed my daughter?  
Damned as thou art, thou haft enchanted her,  
For i'll refer me to all thing of sense,  
Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy,  
So opposite to marriage, that she shunned  
The wealthy curled darlings of our Nation,  
Would ever have (to incur a general mock)  
Run from her gardage to the sooty bosom  
Of such a thing as thou? to fear, not to delight,  
Such 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.  Oth. 
Hold your hands:  
Both you of my inclining and the rest,  
Were it my Qu. to fight, I should have known it,  
Without a prompter, where will you that I go,  
And answer this your charge?  Bra. 
To prison till fit time  
Of Law, and course of direct Session,  
Call thee to answer.  Oth. 
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 bear me to him.  Officer. 
'tis true most worthy Signior,  
The Duke's in Council, and your noble self,  
I am sure is sent for.  Bra. 
How? the Duke in Council?  
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 'ttwere their own.  
For if such actions, may have passage free,  
Bondslaves, and Pagans, shall our Statesmen be.  Exeunt. Enter Duke and Senator's, set at a Table with lights and Attendants. Duke. 
There is no Composition in these news,  
That gives them credit.  1 Sena. 
Indeed they are disproportioned,  
My letters say, a hundred and seven Galleys.  Du. 
And mine a hundred and forty.  2 Sena. 
And mine two hundred:  
But though they jump not on a just account,  
As in these cases, where they aimed reports,  
'tis oft with difference, yet do they all confirm  
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to cypress.  Du. 
Nay, it is possible enough to judgement:  
I do not so secure me to the error,  
But the main Articles I do approve  
In fearful sense.  Enter a Messenger. One within. 
What ho, what ho, what ho?  Sailor. 
A messenger from the Galley.  Du. 
Now, the business?  Sailor. 
The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes,  
So was I bid report here, to the state.  Du. 
How say you by this change?  1 Sena. 
This cannot be by no assay of reason—  
'tis a Pageant,  
To keep us in false gaze: when we consider  
The importance of Cypress to the Turk:  
And let ourselves a gain, but understand,  
That as it more concerns the Turk then Rhodes,  
So may he with more facile question bear it.  Du. 
And in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.  Officer. 
Here is more news.  Enter a 2. Messenger. Mes. 
The Ottamites, reverend and gracious,  
Steering with due course, toward the Isle of Rhodes,  
Have there injointed with an after fleet  
Of 30. sail, and now they do resterine  
Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance.  
Their purposes towards Cypress: Signior Montano,  
Your trusty and most valiant servitor;  
With his free duty recommends you thus,  
And prays you to believe him.  Du. 
'tis certain then for Cypress,  
Marcus Luccicos is not here in town.  1 Sena. 
he's now in Florence.  Du. 
Writ from us, wish him post, post hast dispatch;  
〈…〉 Othello, Roderigo, Iago, Cassio,  
〈…〉 and Officers.  
〈…〉 Brabantio ●nd the valiant Moor.  
〈…〉 straight employ you,  
〈…〉 Ottoman;  
〈…〉 Seignior,  
〈…〉 your help to night,  Bra. 
So did I yours, good your Grace pardon me,  
Neither my place, nor ought I heard of business  
Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care  
Take any hold of me, for my particular griefs,  
Is of so floodgate and orebearing nature,  
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,  
And it is still itself.  Du. 
Why, what's the matter?  Bra. 
My daughter, O my daughter.  All. 
Dead?  Bra. 
I to me:  
She is abused, stolen from me and corrupted,  
By spells and medicines, bought of mountebancks,  
For nature so preposterously to err,  
Sans witchcraft could not.  Du. 
Who ere he be, that in this foul proceeding  
Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself,  
And you of her, the bloody book of Law,  
You shall yourself, read in the bitter letter,  
After its own sense, though our proper son  
Stood in your action.  Bra. 
Humbly I thank your Grace;  
Here is the man, this Moor, whom now it seems  
Your special mandate, for the State affairs  
Hath hither brought.  All. 
We are very sorry for't.  Du. 
What in your own part can you say to this?  Bra. 
Nothing, but this is so.  Oth. 
Most potent, grave, and reverend Signors,  
My very noble and approved good masters:  
That I have ta●e 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 blessed with the set phrase of peace,  
For since these arms of mine had seven year's pith,  
Till now some nine Moons wasted, they have used  
Their dearest action in the tented field,  
And little of this great world can I speak,  
More than pertains to feat of broil, and battle,  
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,  
In speaking for myself; yet by your gracious patience,  
I will a round unvarnished tale deliver,  
Of my whole course of love, 〈…〉 what charms,  
What conjuration, and what mighty Magic,  
(For such proceed am I charged 〈…〉)  
I won his daughter.  Bra. 
A maiden never bold of spirit,  
So still and quiet, that her motion  
Blushed at herself: and she in spite of nature,  
Of years, of Country, credit, every thing,  
To fall in love with what she feared to look on?  
It is a judgement maimed, and most imperfect,  
That will confess perfection, so would 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 conjured to this effect,  
He wrought upon her.  Du. 
To youth this is no proof,  
Without more certain and more overt test,  
These are thin habits, and poor likelihoods,  
Of modern seem, you prefer against him.  1 Sena. 
But Othello speak,  
Did you by indirect and forced courses,  
Subdue and poison this young maids affections?  
Or came it by request, and such fair question,  
As soul to soul affordeth?  Oth. 
I do beseech you,  
Send for the Lady to the Sagittar,  
And let her speak of me before her father;  
If you do find me foul in her report,  
Not only take away, but let your sentence  
Even fall upon my life.  Du. 
Fetch Desdemona hither.  Exit two or three. Oth. 
Ancient conduct them, you best know the place;  
And till she come, as faithful as to heaven,  
So justly to your grave ears I'll present,  
How I did thrive in this fair Lady's love,  
And she in mine.  Du. 
Say it Othello.  Oth. 
Her Father loved me, oft invited me,  
Still questioned me the story of my life,  
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes  
That I have passed:  
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,  
Toth' very moment that he bade me tell it.  
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,  
Of moving accident of flood and field;  
Of heire-breadth escapes i'th' imminent deadly breach;  
Of being taken by the insolent foe:  
And sold to slavery, and my redemption thence,  
And with it all my travels History;  
Wherein of Antrees vast, and Deserts idle,  
Rough quarries, rocks and hills, whose heads touch heaven,  
It was my hent to speak, such was the process:  
And of the Cannibals, that each other eat;  
The anthropophagy, and men whose heads  
Do grow beneath their shoulders: this to hear,  
Would Desdemona seriously incline;  
But still the house affairs would draw her thence,  
And ever as she could with hast dispatch,  
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 parcel she had something heard,  
But not intentively, I did consent,  
And often did beguile her of her tears,  
When I did speak of some distressed stroke  
That my youth suffered: my story being done;  
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;  
She swore I faith 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;  
'twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful;  
She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished  
That heaven had made her such a man: she thanked me,  
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,  
I should but teach him how to tell my story,  
And that would woo her. Upon this heat I spoke:  
She loved me for the dangers I had past.  
And I lou'd her that 〈◊〉 did pity them.  
This only is the witchcraft I have used:  
Here comes the Lady,  
Let her witness it.  Enter Desdemona, Iago, and the rest. Du. 
I think this tale would win my daughter to,—  
Good Brabantio, take up this mangled matter at the best,  
Men do their broken weapons rather use,  
Then their bare hands.  Bra. 
I pray you hear her speak.  
If she confess that she was half the wooer,  
Destruction ●ite on me, if my bad blame  
Light on the man. Come hither gentle mistress:  
Do you perceive in all this noble company,  
Where most you own obedience?  Des. 
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 Lord of all my duty,  
I am hitherto your daughter, But here's my husband:  
And so much duty as my mother showed  
To you, preferring you before her father.  
So much I challenge, that I may profess,  
〈…〉 Moor my Lord,  Bra. 
God bye, I ha' done:  
Please it your Grace, on to the State affairs;  
I had rather to adopt a child then get it;  
Come hither Moor:  
I here do give thee that, 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 'em, I have done my Lord.  Du. 
Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence  
Which as a greese or step may help these lovers  
Into your favour.  
When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,  
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended▪  
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,  
Is the next way to draw more mischief on;  
What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,  
Patience her injury a mockery makes.  
The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief,  
He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.  Bra. 
So let the Turk, of Cypress 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 bruised heart was pierced through the ●are:  
Beseech you now, to the affairs of the state.  Du. 
The Turk with most mighty preparation makes for Cypres: Othello, the fortitude of the place, is best known to you, and though we have there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice on you: you must therefore be content to slubber the gloss● of your new fortunes, with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.  Oth. 
The tyrant custom most great Senators,  
Hath made the flinty and steel Cooch of war,  
My thrice driven bed of down: I do ag●ize  
A natural and prompt alacrity,  
I find in hardness, and would undertake  
This present wars against the Ottamites,  
Most humbly therefore, bending to your State,  
I crave fit disposition for my wife,  
Due reverence of place and exhibition,  
Which such accommodation? and besort  
A● levels with her breeding.  Du. 
If you please, bees at her fathers.  Bra. 
I'll not have it so.  Oth. 
Nor 1  Desd. 
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 a gracious ●are,  
And let me find a charter in your voice,  
And if my simpleness.—  Du. 
What would you— speak.  Des. 
That I did love the Moor, to live with him,  
My down right violence, and scorn of Fortunes,  
May trumpet to the world: my hearts subdued,  
●uen to the utmost pleasure of my Lord:  
I saw Othelloes' visage in his mind,  
And to his Honours, 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.  Oth. 
Your voices Lords: beseech you let her will,  
Have a free way, I therefore b●g it not  
To 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 of my appe●●e,  
No● to com●●y with 〈◊〉, the young affects▪  
In my defunct, and proper satisfaction,  
But to be free and bounteous of her mind,  
And heaven defend your good souls that you think  
I will your serious and good business scant,  
For she is with me;— 〈◊〉, when light-winged toys,  
And feathered Cupid foils with wanton dulness,  
My speculative and active instruments,  
That my disports, corrupt and taint my business,  
Let huswives make a skellet of my Helm,  
And all indigne and base adversities,  
Make head against my reputation.  Du. 
Be it, as you shall privately determine,  
Either for stay or going, the affairs cry haste,  
And speed must answer, you must hence to night,  Desd. 
To night my Lord?  Du. 
This night.  Oth. 
With all my heart.  Du. 
At ten 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 or respect,  
As doth concern you.  Oth. 
Please your Grace, my Ancient,  
A man he is of honesty and trust,  
To his conveyance I assign my wife,  
With what else needful your good Grace shall think,  
To be sent after me.  Du. 
Let it be so:  
Good night to every one, and noble Signior,  
If virtue no delighted beauty lack,  
Your son ●n law is fare more fair than black.  I Sena. 
Adieu brave Moor, use Desdemona well.  Bra. 
Look to her Moor, have a quick eye to see,  
She has deceived her father, may do thee.  Ex●●nt. Oth. 
My life upon her faith: honest jago,  
My Desdemona must I leave to thee,  
I prithee let thy wife attend on her,  
And bring her 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.  Rod. 
jago.  Exit Moor and Desdemona. jag▪ 
What sayest thou noble heart?  Rod. 
What will I do thinkest thou?  jag. 
Why go to bed and sleep.  Rod. 
I will incontinently drown myself.  jag. 
Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee after it,  
Why, thou silly Gentleman.  Rod. 
It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment, and then we have a prescription, to dye when death is our Physician.  jag. 
I ha' looked upon the world for four times seven years, and since I could distinguish between a benefit, and an injury, I never found a man that knew how to love himself: ere I would say I would drown myself, for the love of a Ginny Hen, I would change my humanity with a Baboon.  Rod. 
What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it.  jag. 
Virtue? a fig, 'tis in ourselves, that we are thus, or thus, our bodies are gardens, to the which our wills are gardiner's, so that if we will plant Nettles, or sow Lettuce, set Isop, and weed up Time; 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 〈◊〉 sensuality; the blood and baseness of our natures, would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions. But we have reason to cool our raging mo●ions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this, that you call love to be a sect, or syen.  Rod. 
It cannot be.  jag. 
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 profess me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving, with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never better strede thee then now. Put money in thy purse; follow these 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 unto the Moor,— put money in the purse,— nor he 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 acerbe as the Coloquintida. 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 ●damme thyself, do it a more delicate way then drowning; make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony, and a frail vow, betwixt an erring Barbarian, and a supper subtle Vexetian, be not too hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money,— a pox a drowning, 'tis clean out of the way: seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy, then to be drowned, and go without her.  Rod. 
W●lt thou be fast to my hopes?  jag. 
Thou ar●t sure of me— go, make money— I have told thee often, and I tell thee again, and again, I hate the Moor, my cause is hearted, thine has no less reason, let us be communicative in our revenge against him: If thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport. There are many eue●ts in the womb of Time, which will be delivered. Tra●erce, go, provide thy money, we will have more of this to morrow, Adive.  Rod. 
Where shall we meet i'th' morning.  jag. 
At my lodging.  Rod. 
I'll be with thee betimes.  jag. 
Go to, farewell:— do you hear Roderigo?  Rod. 
what say you?  jag. 
No more of drowning, do you hear?  Rod. 
I am changed.  Exit Roderigo. jag. 
Go to, farewell, put money enough in your purse:  
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:  
For I mine own gained 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  
Has done my office; I know not, if't be true—  
Yet 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 this place, and to make up my will,  
A double knavery— how, how,— let me see,  
After some time, to abuse Othelloes ear,  
That he is too familiar with his wife:  
He has a person and a smooth dispose,  
To be suspected, framed to make women false:  
The Moor a free and open nature too,  
That thinks men honest, that but seems to be so:  
And will as tenderly be led bit'h nose— as Asses are▪  
I have't, it is engendered: Hell and night  
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.  Exit.  

Actus 2.  
Scoena 1.  Enter Montanio, Governor of Cypress, with two other Gentlemen. Montanio. 
WHat from the Cape can you discern at Sea?  1 Gent. 
Nothing at all, it is a high wrought flood,  
I cannot 'twixt the haven and the main  
Descry a sa●le.  Mon. 
Me thinks the wind does speak aloud at land,  
A fuller blast ne'er shaken our Battlements:  
If it ha' ruffiand so upon the sea.  
What ribs of Oak, when the huge mountain 〈…〉,  
Can hold the morties,— What shall we hear of this?  2 Gent. 
A segregation of the Turkish Fleet:  
For do but stand upon the banning shore,  
The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds,  
The wind shaked surge, with high and monstrous 〈◊〉,  
Seems to cast water, on the burning Bear,  
And quench the guards of th'ever fired pole,  
I never did, like molestation view,  
On the incha●ed flood.  Mon. 
If that the Turkish Fleet  
Be not insheltered, and embayed, they are drowned,  
It is impossible they bear it out.  Enter a third Gentleman. 3 Gent. 
News Lords, your wars are done:  
The desperate Tempest hath so banged the Turk,  
That their designment halts: Another ship of Venice hath seen  
A grievous wrack and sufferance  
On most part of the Fleet.  Mon. 
How, is this true?  3 Gent. 
The ship is here put in:  
A Veronessa, Michael Cassio,  
Leiutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,  
Is come ashore: the Moor himself at Sea,  
And is in full Commission here for Cypress,  Mon. 
I am glad on't, 'tis a worthy Governor.  3 Gent. 
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.  Mon. 
Pray Heaven he be:  
For I have served him, and the man commands  
Like a full Soldier:  
Let's to the sea side, ho,  
As well to see the vessel that's come in.  
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello.  3 Gent. 
Come, let's do so,  
For every minute is expectance  
Of more arrivance,  Enter Cassio. Cas. 
Thanks to the valiant of this worthy Isle,  
That so approve the Moor, and let the heavens  
Give him defence against their Elements,  
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea.  Mon. 
Is he well shipped?  Cas. 
His Bark is stoutly timbered, and his pilot  
Of very expert and approved allowance,  
Therefore my hope's not surfeited to death,  
Stand in bold cure.  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
A sail, a sail, a sail.  Cas. 
What noise?  Mess. 
The Town is empty, on the brow o'th' sea,  
otand ranks of people, and they cry a sail.  Cas. 
My hopes do shape him for the guernement.  2 Gen. 
They do discharge the shot of courtesy,  
Our friend at least.  A shot. Cas. 
I pray you sir go forth,  
And give us truth, who 'tis that is arrived.  2 Gent. 
I shall.  Exit. Mon. 
But good Lieutenant, is your General wived?  Cas. 
Most fortunately, he hath achieved a maid,  
That paragons description, and wild fame:  
One that excels the blasoning pens,  
And in the essential vesture of creation,  
Does bear all excellency:— now, who has put in?  Enter 2. Gentleman. 2 Gent. 
'tis one jago, ancient to the General,  
He has had most favourable and happy speed,  
Tempests themselves, by seas, and hou●ing winds,  
The guttered rocks, and congregated sands,  
Traitors enscerped; to clog the guiltless Keel,  
As having sense of beauty, do omit  
Their common natures, letting go safely by  
The divine Desdemona.  Mon. 
What is she?  Cas. 
She that I spoke of, our great Captain's Captain,  
Lest in the conduct of the bold jago.  
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts  
A seven-night'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,  
And swiftly come to Desdemona's arms.  Enter Desdemona, Iago, Emillia, and Roderigo. 
Give renewed fire,  
To our extincted spirits.  
And bring all Cypress comfort,— O behold  
The riches of the ship is come ashore.  
Ye men of Cypress, let her have your knees:  
Hail to thee Lady: and the grace of heaven,  
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,  
Enwheele thee round.  Desd. 
I thank you valiant Cassio:  
What tidings can you tell me of my Lord?  Cas. 
He is not yet arrived, nor know I ought,  
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.  Desd. 
O but I fear:— how lost you company?  [within.] A sail, a sail. Cas. 
The great contention of the sea and skies  
Parted our fellowship: but hark, A sail.  2 Gent. 
They give their greeting to the Citadel,  
This likewise is a friend.  Cas. 
So speaks this voice:  
Good Ancient, you are welcome, welcome Mistress,  
Let it not gall your patience, good jago,  
That I extend my manners, 'tis my breeding,  
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.  jag. 
For would she give you so much of her lips,  
As of her tongue, she has bestowed on me,  
You'd have enough.  Des. 
Alas! she has no speech.  jag. 
I know too much.  
I find it, I; for when I ha' list to sleep,  
Marry, before your Ladyship I grant,  
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,  
And chides with thinking.  Em. 
You ha' little cause to say so.  jag. 
Come on, Come on, you are Pictures out adores:  
Bells in your Parlours: Wild-cats in your Kitchens:  
Saints in your injuries: Devils being offended:  
Players in your housewifery; and housewives in your beds.  
O fie upon thee slanderer.  jag. 
Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk,  
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.  Em. 
You shall not write my praise.  jag. 
No, let me not.  Desd. 
What wouldst thou write of me,  
If thou shouldst praise me?  jag. 
O gentle Lady, do not put me to't,  
For I am nothing▪ if not Critical.  Desd. 
Come on, assay— there's one gone to the Harbour?  jag. 
I Madam.  Desd. 
I am not merry, but I do beguile  
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise:  
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?  jag. 
I am about it, but indeed my invention  
Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from freeze,  
It plucks out brain and all: but my Muse labours,  
And thus she is delivered:  
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit;  
The one's for use, the other using it.  Desd. 
Well praised: how if she be black and witty?  jag. 
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,  
She 〈◊〉 find a white, that shall her blackness hit.  Desd. 
Worse and worse.  Em. 
How if fair and foolish?  jag. 
She never yet was foolish, that was fair,  
For even her folly helped her, to a hair.  Des. 
These are old paradoxes, to make fools laugh i'the Alehouse,  
What miserable praise hast thou for her,  
That's foul and foolish?  jag. 
There's none so foul, and foolish thereunto,  
But does foul pranks, which fair and wise ones do.  Desd. 
O heavy ignorance, that praises the worst best: but what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed? one, that in the authority of her merits, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?  jag. 
She that was soever fair, and never proud,  
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud,  
Never lacked gold, and yet went never gay,  
Fled from her wish, and yet said, now I may:  
She that being angered, her revenge being nigh,  
Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly;  
She that in wisdom, never was so frail,  
To change the Codshead for the Salmon's tail.  
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,  
She was a wight, if ever such wight were.  Des. 
To do what?  jag. 
To suckle fools, and chronicle small Beer.  Des. 
O most lame and impotent conclusion:  
Do not learn of him Emillia, though he be thy husband;  
How say you Cassio, is he not a most profane and liberal  
Counsellor?  Cas. 
He speaks home Madam, you may relish him  
More in the Soldier then in the Scholar.  jag. 
He takes her by the palm; I well said, whisper: as little a web as this will ensnare as great a Flee as Cassio. I smile upon her, do: I will catch you in your own courtesies: you say true, 'tis so indeed. If such tricks as these▪ strip you out of your Leiutenantry, it had been better you had not rist your three fingers so oft, which now again, you are most apt to play the sir in: good, well kissed, an excellent courtesy; 'tis so indeed: yet again, your fingers at your lips? Would they were Clisterpipes for your sake.— The Moor, I know his Trumpet.  Tr●mpets within▪ Enter Othello, and Attendants. Cas. 
'tis truly so.  Des. 
Let's meet him, and receive him.  Cas. 
Lo, where he comes.  Oth. 
O my fair Warrious.  Des 
My dear Othello.  Oth. 
It gives me wonder great as my content,  
To see you here before me: O my soul's joy,  
If after every tempest, come such calmness,  
May the winds blow, till they have wakened death,  
And let the labouring Bark climb hills of seas,  
Olympus' high, and duck again as low,  
As hell's from Heaven: If it were now to dye,  
'Twere now to be most happy, for I fear  
My soul hath her content so absolute,  
That not another comfort, like to this  
Succeeds in unknown Fate,  Des. 
The Heavens forbidden,  
But that our loves and comforts should increase,  
Even as our days do grow.  Oth. 
Amen to that sweet power,  
I cannot speak enough of this content,  
It stops me here, it is too much of joy:  
And this, and this, the greatest discord be,  they kiss. 
That ere our hearts shall make.  jag. 
O, you are well tuned now,  
But I'll set down the pegs, that make this music,  
As honest as I am.  Oth. 
Come, let us to the Castle:  
News friends, our wars are done, the Turks are drowned:  
How do our old acquaintance of the Isle;  
Honey, you shall be well desired in Cypress;  
I have found great love amongst them: O my sweet,  
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote,  
In mine one comforts: I prithee good jago,  
Go to the Bay, and disembark my Coffers;  
Bring thou the Master to the Citadel;  
He is a good one, and his worthiness,  
Does challenge much respect: come Desdemona,  
Once more well met at Cypress.  Exit. jag. 
Do thou meet me presently at the Harbour: come hither, If thou be'st valiant, as they say, base men being in love, have then a Nobility in their natures, more than is native to them— list me, the Lieutenant to night watches on the Court of Guard: first I will tell thee, this Desdemona is directly in love with him.  Rod. 
With him? why 'tis not possible.  jag. 
Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed: mark me, with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical lies; and will she love him still for prating? let not the discreet heart think so. Her eye must be fed, and what delight shall she have to look on the Devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be again to inflame it, and give satiety a fresh appetite. Love's lines in favour, sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in: now for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor, very nature will instruct her to it, and compel her to some second choice: now sir, this granted, as it is a most pregnant and unforced position, who stands so eminently in the degree of this fortune, as Cassio does? a knave very voluble, no farther conscionable, then in putting on the mere form of civil and hand-seeming, for the better compassing of his salt and hidden affections: A subtle slippery knave, a finder out of occasions; that has an eye, can stamp and counterfeit the true advantages never present themselves. Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after; a pestilent complete knave, and the woman has found him already.  Rod. 
I cannot believe that in her, she's full of most blessed condition.  jag. 
Blessed figs end: the wine she drinks is made of grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor. D●●st thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand?  Rod. 
Yes, but that was but courtesy.  jag, 
Lechery, by this hand: an Index and p●o●ogue to the history of lust and foul thoughts: they met so near with their lips, that their breaths embraced together. When these mutualities so marshal the way, hand at hand, comes the main exercise, the incorporate conclusion. But sir, be you ruled by me, I have brought you from Venice: watch you to night, for your command I'll lay't upon you, Cassio knows you not, I'll not be fare from you, do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline, or from what other cause you please; which the time shall more favourably minister.  Rod. 
Well,  jag. 
Sir he is rash, and very sudden in choler, and haply with his Trunchen may strike at you; provoke him that he may, for even out of that, will I cause these of Cypress to mutiny, whose qualification shall come into no true trust agained, but by the displanting of Cassio: So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them, & the impediment, most profitably removed, without which there were no expectation of our prosperity.  Rod. 
I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity.  jag. 
I warrant thee, meet me by and by at the Citadel; I must fetch his necessaries ashore.— Farewell.  Rod. 
Adieu.  Exit. jag. 
That Cassio love's her, I do well believe it;  
That she love's him, 'tis apt and of great credit;  
The Moor howbeed, that I endure him not,  
Is of a constant, noble, loving nature;  
And I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona,  
A most dear husband: now I do love her too,  
Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure.  
I stand accountant for as great a sin,  
But partly lead to diet my revenge,  
For that I do suspect the lustful Moor,  
Hath leaped into my seat, the thought whereof  
Doth like a poisonous mineral gnaw my inwards,  
And nothing can, nor shall content my soul,  
Till I am even with him, wife, for wife:  
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor,  
At least, into a jealousy so strong,  
That judgement cannot cure; which thing to do,  
If this poor trash of Venice, whom I crush,  
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,  
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip▪  
Abuse him to the Moor, in the rank garb,  
(For I fear Cassio, with my nightcap to)  
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me,  
For making him egregiously an Ass,  
And practising upon his peace and quiet,  
Even to madness: 'tis here, but yet confused,  
Knaveries plain face is never seen, till used.  Exit. Enter a Gentleman reading a Proclamation. 
It is Othello's pleasure; our noble and valiant General, that upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish Fleet; that every man put himself into triumph: Some to dance, some make bonfires; each man to what sport and revels his mind leads him; for besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his Nuptials: So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All Offices are open, and there is full liberty, from this present hour of five, till the bell hath told eleven. Heaven bless the Isle of Cypress, and our noble General Othello.  Enter Othello, Cassio, and Desdemona. Oth. 
Good Michael, look you to the guard to night,  
Let's teach ourselves the honourable stop,  
Not to out sport discretion.  Cas. 
jago hath directed what to do:  
But notwithstanding with my personal eye  
Will I look to it.  Oth. 
jago is most honest,  
Michael good night, to morrow with your earliest,  
Let me have speech with you, come my dear love,  
The purchase made, the fruits are to e●sue,  
The profits yet to come 'twixt me and you,  
Good night.  Exit Othello and Desdemona. Enter Iago. 〈◊〉. 
Welcome jago, we must to the watch.  jag. 
Not this hour Lieutenant, 'tis not yet ten o'clock: our General cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemena. who let us not therefore blame, he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for love.  Cas. 
She is a most exquisite Lady.  jag. 
And I'll warrant her full of game.  Cas. 
Indeed she is a most fresh and delicate creature.  jag. 
What an eye she has?  
Me thinks it sounds a parley of provocation.  Cas. 
An inviting eye, and yet me thinks right moddest.  jag. 
And when she speaks, 'tis an alarm to love.  Cas. 
It is indeed perfection.  jag. 
Well, happiness to their sheets— come Leiutenant, I have a stoup of Wine, and here without are a brace of Cypress Gallants, that would fain have a measure to the health of the black Othello.  Cas. 
Not to night, good jago; I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.  jag. 
O they are our friends,— but one cup: I'll drink for you.  Cas. 
I ha' drunk but one cup to night, and that was craftily qualified to, and behold what innovation it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.  jag. 
What man, 'tis a night of Revels, the Gallants desire it.  Cas. 
Where are they?  jag. 
Here at the door, I pray you call them in.  Cas. 
I'll do't, but it dislikes me.  Exit. jag. 
If I can fasten but one cup upon him,  
With that which he hath drunk to night already,  
he'll be as full of quarrel and offence,  
A● my young mistress dog:— Now my sick fool Roderigo,  
Whom love has turned almost the wrong side outward,  
To Desdemona, hath to night caroused  
Potations pottle deep, and he's to watch  
Three lads of Cypress, noble swelling spirits,  
That hold their honour, in a wary distance,  
The very Elements of this warlike Isle,  
Have I to night flustred with flowing cups,  
And the watch too: now 'mongst this flock of drunkards,  
I am to put our Cassio in some action,  
That may offend the Isle;  Enter Montanio, Cassio, and others. 
But here they come:  
If consequence do but approve my dream,  
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.  Cas. 
Fore God they have given me a rouse already.  Mon. 
Good faith a little one, not past a pint,  
As I am a soldier.  jag. 
Some wine ho:  
And let me the Cannikin clink, clink,  
And let me the Cannikin clink, clink:  
A Soldiers a man, a life's but a span,  
Why then let a soldier drink.— Some wine boys,  Cas. 
Fore God an excellent song.  jag. 
I learned it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swagbellied Hollander; drink ho, are nothing to your English.  Cas. 
Is your English man so expert in his drinking?  jag. 
Why he drinks you with facility, your Dane dead drunk: he sweats not to overthrew your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ●re the next pottle can be filled.  Cas. 
To the health of our General.  Mon. 
I am for it Lieutenant, and I will do you justice.  jag. 
O sweete England,— King Stephen was a worthy peer,  
His breeches cost him but a crown,  
He held'em sixpence all too dear,  
With that he called the Tailor loon,  
He was a wight of high renown,  
And thou art but of low degree,  
'tis pride that pulls the Country down,  
Then take thine owed cloak about thee.— Some wine ho.  Cas. 
Fore God this is a more exquisite song than the other.  jag. 
Will you hear't again?  Cas. 
No, for I hold him unworthy of his place, that does those things: well, God's above all, and there be souls that must be saved.  jag. 
It is true good Lieutenant.  Cas. 
For mine own part, no offence to the General, nor any man of quality, I hope to be saved.  jag. 
And so do I Lieutenant.  Cas. 
I, but by your leave, not before me; the Lieutenant is to be saved before the Ancient. Let's ha' no more of this, let's to our affairs: God forgive us our sins: Gentlemen, let's look to our business; Do not think Gentlemen I am drunk, this is my Ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my left hand: I am not drunk now, I can stand well enough, and speak well enough.  All. 
Excellent well.  Cas. 
Very well then: you must not think, that I am drunk.  Ex. Mon. 
To the platform masters. Come, let's set the watch.  jag. 
You see this fellow that is gone before,  
He is a Soldier fit to stand by Caesar,  
And give direction: and do but see his vice,  
'tis to his virtue, a just equinox,  
The one as long as th'other: 'tis pity of him,  
I fear the trust Othello put him in,  
On some odd time of his infirmity,  
Will shake this Island.  Mon. 
But is he often thus.  jag. 
'tis evermore the Prologue to his sleep:  
he'll watch the horolodge a double set,  
If drink rock not his cradle.  Mon. 
'tTwere well 〈◊〉 General were put in mind of i●,  
Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature,  
Praises the virtues that appears in Cassio,  
And look not on his evils: is not this true?  jag. 
How now Roderigo,  Enter Roderigo. 
I●pray you after the Lieutenant, go.  Exit Rod. Mon. 
And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor  
Should hazard such a place, as his own second,  
With one of an engraft infirmity:  
It were an honest action to say so to the Moor.  jag. 
Nor I, for this fair Island:  
I do love Cassio well, and would do much,  Help, help, within▪ 
To cure him of this evil: but hark, what noise.  Enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo. Cas. 
Zouns, you rogue, you rascal.  Mon. 
what's the matter Leiutenant?  Cas. 
A knave, teach me my duty: but I'll beat the knave into a wicker bottle.  Rod. 
Beare me?  Cas. 
Dost thou prate rogue?  Mon. 
Good Lieutenant; pray sir hold your hand.  Cas. 
Let me go sir, or i'll knock you o'er the mazzard.  Mon. 
Come, come, you are drunk.  Cas. 
Drunk?  they fight. jag. 
Away I say, go out and cry a mutiny.  A bell rung. 
Nay good Lieutenant: god will Gentlemen,  
Help ho, Lieutenant: Sir Montanio, sir,  
Help masters, here's a goodly watch indeed,  
Who's that that rings the bell? D●ablo— ho,  
The ●owne will rise, godswill Leiutenant, hold,  
You will be shamed for ever.  Enter Othello, and Gentlemen with weapons. Oath, 
What is the matter here?  Mon. 
Zouns, I bleed still, I am hurt, to the death:  Oth. 
Hold, for your lives.  jag. 
Hold, hold Lieutenant, sir Montanio, Gentlemen,  
Have you forgot all place of sense, and duty:  
Hold, the General speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame.  Oth. 
Why how now ho, from whence arises this?  
Are we turned Turks, and to ourselves do that,  
Which Heaven has forbid the Ottamites:  
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl;  
He that stirs next, to carve forth his own rage,  
Holds his soul light, he dies upon his motion;  
Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the Isle  
From her propriety: what's the matter masters?  
Honest jago, that looks dead with grieving,  
Speak, who began this, on thy love I charge thee.  jag. 
I do not know, friends all but now, even now,  
In quarter, and in terms, like bride and groom,  
Divesting them to bed, and then but now,  
As if some planet had unwitted men,  
Swords out, and tilting one at others breast,  
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak  
Any beginning to this peevish odds;  
And would in action glorious, I had lost  
These legs, that brought me to a part of it.  Oth. 
How came it Michael, you were thus forgot?  Cas. 
I pray you pardon me, I cannot speak.  Oth. 
Worthy Montanio, you were wont be civil,  
The gravity and stillness of your youth,  
The world hath noted, and your name is great,  
In men of wisest censure: what's the matter  
That you unlace your reputation thus,  
And spend your rich opinion, for the name  
Of a night brawler? give me answer to't?  Mon. 
Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger,  
Your Officer jago can inform you,  
While I spare speech, which something now offends me,  
Of all that I do know, nor know I ought  
By me, that's said or done amiss this night,  
Unless selfe-charity be sometime a vice,  
And to defend ourselves it be a sin,  
When violence assails us.  Oth. 
Now by heaven  
My blood gins my safer guides to rule▪  
And passion having my best judgement cooled,  
Assays to lead the way. Zouns, if I stir,  
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you  
Shall sink in my rebuke: give me to know  
How this foul rout began, who set it on,  
And he that is approved in this offence,  
Tho he had twined with me, both at a birth,  
Shall lose me; what, in a Town of war,  
Yet wild, the people's hearts brim full of fear,  
To manage private and domestic quarrels,  
In night, and on the Court and guard of safety?  
'tis monstrous. Iago, who began?  Mon. 
If partiality affined, or league in office,  
Thou dost deliver, more or less than truth,  
Thou art no soldier.  jag. 
Touch me not so near,  
I had rather ha' this tongue out from my mouth,  
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio:  
Yet I persuade myself to speak the truth,  
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is General:  
Montanio and myself being in speech,  
There comes a fellow, crying out for help,  
And Cassio following him with determined sword,  
To execute upon him: Sir this Gentleman  
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause;  
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,  
Lest by his clamour, as it so fell out,  
The Town might fall in fright: he swift of foot,  
Out ran my purpose: and I returned the rather,  
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords:  
And Cassio high in oaths, which till to night,  
I ne'er might see before: when I came back,  
For this was brief, I found them close together,  
At blow and thrust, even as again they were,  
When you yourself did part them.  
More of this matter can I not report,  
But men are men, the best sometimes forget;  
Tho Cassio did some little wrong to him,  
As men in ra●ge strike those that wish them best,  
Yet surely Cassio, I believe received  
From him that fled, some strange indignity,  
Which patience could not pass.  Oth. 
I know jago,  
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,  
Making it light to Cassio: Cassio, I love thee,  
But never more be Officer of mine.  Enter Desdemona, with others. 
Look if my Gentle love be not raised up:  
I'll make thee an example.  Desd. 
What is the matter?  Oth. 
All's well now sweeting:  
Come away to bed: sir, for your hurts,  
Myself will be your surgeon; lead him off;  
Iago, look with care about the Town,  
And silence those, whom this vile brawl distracted.  
Come Desdemona: 'tis the Soldier's life,  
To have their balmy ●●umbers waked with strife,  jag, 
What are you hurt Leiutenant?  Exit Moor, Desdemona, and attendants. Cas. 
I, past all surgery.  jag. 
Marry God forbidden.  Cas. 
Reputation, reputation, I ha' lost my reputation:  
I ha' lost the immortal part sir of myself,  
And what remains is bestial, my reputation,  
jago, my reputation.  jag. 
As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound, there is more offence in that, then in Reputation: reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit, and lost without deserving, You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser; what man, there are ways to recover the General again: you are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy, then in malice, even so, as one would beat his offenceless dog, to affright an imperious Lion: sue to him again, and●hees yours.  Cas. 
I will rather sue to be despised, then to deceive so good a Commander, with so light, so drunken, and indiscreet an Officer: O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee Devil.  jag. 
What was he, that you followed with your sword?  
What had he done to you?  Cas. 
I know not.  jag. 
I●t possible?  Cas. 
I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in there mouths, to steal away there brains; that we should with joy, Revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts.  jag. 
Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered?  Cas. 
It hath pleased the Devil drunkenness, to give place to the Devil wrath; one unperfectness, shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself.  jag. 
Come, you are too severe a morraler; as the time, the place, the condition of this Country stands, I 〈◊〉 hearty wish, this had not so befallen; but since it is as it is, mend it, for your own good.  Cas. 
I will ask him for my place again, he shall tell me I am a drunkard: had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop 'em all: to be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast. Every unordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredience is a devil.  jag. 
Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used; exclaim no more against it; and good Lieutenant, I think you think I love you.  Cas. 
I have well approved it sir,— I drunk?  jag. 
You, or any man living may be drunk at some time: I'll tell you what you shall 〈◊〉,— our General's wi●e is now the General; I may say so in this respect, for that he has devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark and devotement of her parts and graces. Confess yourself freely to her, importune her, she'll help to put you in your place again: she is so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, that she holds it a vice in her goodness, not to do more than she is requested. This brawl between you and her husband, entreat her to splinter, and my fortune; against any lay, worth naming, this crack of your 〈◊〉 shall grow stronger than 'twas before.  Cas. 
You advice me well.  jag. 
I protest in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.  Cas. 
I think it freely, and betimes in the morning, will I beseech the virtuous Desdemona, to undertake for me; I am desperate of my fortunes, if they check me here.  jag. 
You are in the right:  
Good night Leiutenant, I must to the watch.  Cas. 
Good night honest jago.  Exit. jag. 
And what's he then, that says I play the villain,  
When this advice is free I give, and honest,  
Probal to thinking, and indeed the course,  
To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy  
The inclining Desdemona to subdue,  
In any honest suit, she's framed as fruitful,  
As the free Elements: and then for her  
To win the Moor▪ were't to renounce his baptism,  
All s●ales and symbols of redeemed sin,  
His soul is so enfettered to her love,  
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,  
Even as her appetite shall play the god  
With his weak function: how am I then a villain?  
To counsel Cassio to this parrallell course.  
Directly to his good: divinity of hell,  
When devils will their blackest sins put on,  
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,  
As I do now: for while this honest fool  
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,  
And she for him, pleads strongly to the Moor:  
I'll pour this pestilence into his ●are,  
That she repeals him for her body's lust;  
And by how much she strives to do him good,  
She shall undo her credit with the Moor,  
So will I turn her virtue into pitch,  
And out of her own goodness make the net  
That shall enmesh 'em all:  Enter Roderigo. 
How now Roderigo?  Rod. 
I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry: my money is almost spent, I ha' been to night exceedingly well cudgeled: I think the issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains, as th●● comes to, and no money at all, and with that wit return to Venice.  jag. 
How poor are they, that ha' not patience?  
What wound did ever heal, but by degrees?  
Thou knowest we work by wit, and not by witchcraft,  
And wit depends on dilatory time.  
Dost not go well? Cassio has beaten thee.  
And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashiered Cassio,  
Tho other things grow fair against the sun,  
But fruits that blossom first, will first 〈◊〉 ripe  
Content thyself awhile; bi'the mass 'tis morning;  
Pleasure, and action, make the hours seem short:  
Retire thee, go where thou art bill t,  
Away I say, thou shalt know more hereafter:  
Nay get thee gone. Some things are to be done,  
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress,  
I'll set her on.  
Myself awhile, to draw the Moor apart,  
And bring him jump, when he may Cassio find,  
Soliciting his wife: I, that's the way▪  
Dull not device by coldness and delay.  Exeunt.  
Enter Cassio, with Musicians and th● Clown. Cas. 
MAster's, play here, I will content your pains.  
Something that's brief, and bid good morrow General.  Clo. 
Why masters, ha' your instruments been at Naples, that they speak i'the nose thus?  Boy. 
How sir, how?  Clo. 
Are these I pray, cald wind Instruments?  Boy. 
I marry are they sir.  Clo. 
O, thereby hangs a tail.  Boy. 
Whereby hangs a tail sir?  Clo. 
Marry sir, by many a wind 〈…〉 I know▪ But masters here's money for you, and the General so likes your music, that he desires you of all loves, to make no more noise with it.  Boy, 
Well sir we will not.  Clo. 
If you have any music that may not be heard, to't again, but as they saay, to hear music, the General does not greatly care.  Boy. 
We ha' none such sir.  Clo. 
Then put your pipes in your bag, for I'll away; go, vanish away.  Cas. 
Dost thou hear my honest friend?  Clo. 
No, I hear not your honest friend, I hear you.  Cas. 
Prithee keep up thy quillets, there's a poor piece of gold for thee: if the Gentlewoman that attends the Generals wi●e be stirring, tell her there's one Cassio, entreats her alittle favour of speech— wilt thou do this?  Clo. 
She is stirring sir, if she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her.  Enter Iago. Cas. 
Do good my friend: In happy time jago.  jag. 
You ha' not been a bed then.  Cas. 
Why no, the day had broke before we parted:  
I ha' made bold jago, to send in to your wife,— my suit to her,  
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona,  
Procure me some access.  jag. 
I'll send her to you presently,  
And I'll device a mean to draw the Moor  
Out of the way, that your converse and business,  
May be more free.  Exit. Cas. 
I humbly thank you for it: I never knew  
A Florentine more kind and honest:  Enter Emilla. Em. 
Good morrow good Lieutenant, I am sorry  
For your displeasure, but all will soon be well,  
The General and his wife are talking of it,  
And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies,  
That he you hurt is of great fame in Cypress,  
And great affinity, and that in whole some wisdom,  
He might not but refuse you: but he protests he love's you,  
And needs no other suitor but his likings,  
To take the safest occasion by the front,  
To bring you in again.  Cas. 
Yet I beseech you,  
If you think fit, or that it may be done,  
Give me advantage of some brief discourse  
With Desdemona alone.  Em. 
Pray you come in,  
I will bestow you where you shall have time,  
To speak your bosom freely.  Exeunt. Enter Othello, Iago, and other Gentlemen. Oth. 
These letters give jago, to the pilot,  
And by him, do my duties to the State;  
That done, I will be walking on the works,  
Repair there to me.  jag. 
Well my good Lord, I'll do't.  Oth. 
This fortification Gentlemen, shall we see't?  Ge●t. 
We wait upon your Lordship.  Exeunt. Enter Desdemona, Cassio and Emillia. Des. 
Be thou assured good Cassio, I will do  
All my abilities in thy behalf.  Em. 
Good Madam do, I know it grieves my husband,  
As if the case were his.  Desd. 
O that's an honest fellow:- do not doubt Cassio,  
But I will have my Lord and you again,  
As friendly as you were.  Cas. 
Bounteous Madam,  
What ever shall become of Michael Cassio,  
he's never any thing but your true servant.  Desd. 
O sir, I thank you, you do love my Lord:  
You have known him long, and be you well assured,  
He shall in strangest, stand no farther off,  
Then in a politic distance.  Cas. 
I but Lady,  
The policy may either last so long,  
Or feed upon such nice, and waterish diet,  
Or breed itself, so out of circumstance,  
That I being absent, and my place supplied,  
My General will forget my love and service▪  Desd. 
Do not doubt that, before Emillia here,  
I give thee warrant of thy place; assure thee  
If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it  
To the last Article; my Lord shall never rest,  
I'll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience;  
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift,  
I'll intermingle every thing he does,  
With Cassio's suit; therefore be merry Cassio,  
For thy soiliciter shall rather die,  
Theu give thee cause: away.  Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen. Em. 
Madam, here comes my Lord.  Cas. 
Madam, I'll take my leave.  Desd. 
Why stay and hear me speak.  Cas. 
Madam not now, I am very ill at ease,  
Unfit for mine own purpose.  Desd. 
Well, do your discretion.  Exit Cassio. jag. 
Ha', I like not that.  Oth. 
What dost thou say?  jag. 
Nothing my Lord, or if, I know not what.  Oth. 
Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?  jag. 
Cassio my Lord?— no sure, I cannot think it,  
That he would sneak away so guilty-like,  
Seeing you coming.  Oth. 
I do believe 'twas he.  Desd. 
How now my Lord,  
I have been talking with a suitor here,  
A man that languishes in your displeasure.  Oth. 
Who is't you mean?  Desd. 
Why your Lieutenant Cassio, good my Lord,  
If I have any grace or power to move you,  
His present reconsiliation take:  
For if he be not one that truly love's you,  
That errs in ignorance, and not in cunning,  
I have no judgement in an honest face,  
I prithee call him back.  Oth. 
Went he hence now?  Desd. 
Yes faith, so humbled,  
That he has left part of his griefs with me,  
I suffer with him; good love call him back.  Oth. 
Not now sweet Desdemona some other time.  Desd. 
But shalt be shortly?  Oth. 
The sooner sweet for you.  Desd. 
Shalt be to night at supper?  Oth. 
No, not to night.  Desd. 
To morrow dinner then?  Oth. 
I shall not dine at home,  
I meet the Captains, at the Citadel.  Desd. 
Why then to morrow night, or Tuesday morn,  
On Tuesday morn, or night, or Wednesday morn,  
I prithee name the time, but let it not  
Exceed three days: I faith he's penitent,  
And yet his trespass, in our common reason,  
(Save that they say, the wars must make examples,  
Out of her best) is not almost a fault,  
To incur a private check: when shall he come?  
Tell me Othello: I wonder in my soul,  
What you could ask me, that I should deny?  
Or stand so muttering on? What Michael Cassio?  
That came a wooing with you, and so many a time  
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,  
Hath ta'en your part, to have so much to do  
To bring him in? Birlady I could do much.  Oth. 
Prithee no more, let him come when he will,  
I will deny thee nothing.  Desd. 
Why this is not a boon,  
'tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves:  
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,  
Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit  
To your own person: nay, when I have a suit,  
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,  
It shall be full of poise and difficulty,  
And fearful to be granted.  Oth. 
I will deny thee nothing,  
Whereon I do beseech thee grant me this,  
To leave me but a little to myself.  Desd. 
Shall I deny you? no, farewell my Lord,  Oth. 
Farewell my Desdomona, I'll come to thee strait.  Desd. 
Emillia, come, be it as your fancies teach you,  
What ere you be I am obedient.  Exit Desd. and Em. Oth. 
Excellent wretch, perdition catch my soul,  
But I do love thee, and when I love thee not,  
Chaos is come again.  jag. 
My noble Lord.  Oth. 
What dost thou say jago?  jag. 
Did Michael Cassio when you wooed my Lady,  
Know of your love?  Oth. 
He did from first to last:— Why dost thou ask?  jag. 
But for a satisfaction of my thoughts.  
No further harm.  Oth. 
Why of thy thought jago?  jag. 
I did not think he had been acquainted with her.  Oth. 
O yes, and went between us very often.  jag. 
Indeed?  Oth. 
Indeed? Indeed disern'●t thou ought in that?  
Is he not honest?  jag. 
Honest my Lord?  Oth. 
Honest? I honest.  jag. 
My Lord, for aught I know.  Oth. 
What dost thou think?  jag. 
Think my Lord?  Oth. 
Think my Lord? By heaven he echoes me.  
As if there were some monster in his thought:  
Too hideous to be shown: thou didst mean something;  
I heard thee say but now, thou lik'st not that,  
When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?  
And when I told thee, he was of my counsel,  
In my whole course of wooing, thou cried'st indeed?  
And didst contract, and purse thy brow together,  
As if thou than hadst shut up in thy brain,  
Some horrible counsel: if thou dost love me,  
Show me thy thought.  jag. 
My Lord, you know I love you.  Oth. 
I think thou dost,  
And for I know, thou art full of love and honesty,  
And weighest thy words, before thou give 'em breath,  
Therefore these stops of thine affright me the more:  
For such things in a false disloyal knave,  
Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just,  
They are close denotements, working from the heart,  
That passion cannot rule.  jag. 
For Michael Cassio,  
I dare presume, I think that he is honest,  Oth. 
I think so to.  jag. 
Men ●●ould be that they seem,  
Or those that be not, would they might seem none.  Oth. 
Certain, men should be what they seem.  jag. 
Why then I think Cassio's an honest man.  Oth. 
Nay yet there's more in this,  
I prithee speak to me to thy think:  
As thou dost ruminate, and give the worst of thought,  
The worst of word.  jag. 
Good my Lord pardon me;  
Though I am bound to ●uery act of duty,  
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to,  
Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false:  
As where's that palace, whereinto foul things  
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,  
But some uncleanely apprehensions,  
Keep leets and lawdays, and in Session fit  
With meditations lawful?  Oth. 
Thou dost conspire against thy friend jago,  
If thou but thinkest him wronged, and makest his ear  
A stranger to thy thoughts.  jag. 
I do beseech you,  
Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,  
As I confess it is my nature's plague,  
To spy into abuses, and oft my iealousy  
Shapes faults that are not, I entreat you then;  
From one that so imperfectly coniects,  
You'd take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble,  
Out of my scattering, and unsure observance;  
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,  
Nor for my manhood▪ honesty, or wisdom,  
To ●et you know my thoughts,  Oth. 
Zouns.  jag. 
Good name in man and woman's d●●r● my Lord;  
Is the immediate jewel of our souls:  
Who steals my purse, steals trash 'tis something, nothing,  
'twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slain to thousands:  
But he that filches from me my good name,  
Robs me of that, which not i●riches him,  
And makes me poor indeed.  Oth. 
By heaven I'll know thy thought.  jag. 
You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,  
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody:  
O be aware jealousy.  
It is the green eyed monster, which doth mock  
That meat it feeds on. That Cuckold liues in bliss,  
Who certain of his fate, love's not his wronger:  
But oh, what damned minutes tells he over,  
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly love's.  Oth. 
O misery.  jag. 
Poor and content is rich, and rich enough,  
But aches, finel●sse, is as poor as winter,  
To him that ever fears he shall be poor:  
Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend  
From jealousy,  Oth. 
Why, why is this?  
Thinkest thou I'd make a life of iealousie?  
To follow still the changes of the Moon  
With fresh suspicions? No, to be once in doubt,  
Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a Goat,  
When I shall turn the business of my soul  
To such exufflicate, and blown surmises,  
Matching thy inference: 'tis not to make me jealous,  
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, love's company,  
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well;  
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:  
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw  
The smallest feare, or doubt of her revolt,  
For she had eyes, and chose me: no jago,  
I'll see before I doubt, when I doubt, prove,  
And on the proof, there is no more but this:  
Away at once with love or jealousy.  jag. 
I am glad of it, for now I shall have reason,  
To show the love and duty that I bear you,  
With franker spirit: therefore as I am bound  
Receive it from me: I speak not yet of proof,  
Look to your wife, observe her well with Cassio;  
Wear your eye thus, not jealous, nor secure,  
I would not have your free and noble nature,  
Out of selfe-bounty be abused, look to't:  
I know our Country disposition well▪  
In Venice they do let God ●ee the pranks  
They dare show their husbands: their best conscience,  
Is not to leave undone, but keep unknown.  Oth. 
Dost thou say ●o.  jag. 
She did deceive her father marrying you;  
And when she seemed to shake and fear your looks,  
She loved them most.  Oth. 
And so she did.  jag. 
Why go too then,  
She that so young, could give our such a seeming,  
To seal her father's eyes vp, close as Oak,  
He thought 'twas witchcraft: but I am much too blame,  
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon,  
For too much loving you.  Oth. 
I am bound to thee for ever.  jag. 
I see this hath a little dashed your spirits.  Oth. 
Not a jot, not a ●ot.  jag. 
I faith I fear it has.  
I hope you will consider what is spoke,  
Comes from my love: But I do see you are moved,  
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech,  
To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,  
Then to suspicion.  Oth. 
I will not.  jag. 
Should you do so my Lord,  
My speech should fall into such vile success,  
As my thoughts aim not at: Cassio's my trusty friend:  
My Lord, I see you are moved.  Oth. 
No, not much moved,  
I do not think but Desdemona's honest.  jag. 
Long live she so, and long live you to think so.  Oth. 
And yet how nature erring from itself.  jag. 
I, there's the point: as to be bold with you,  
Not to affect many proposed matches,  
Of her own Clime, complexion, and degree,  
Whereto we see in all things, nature tends;  
Fie we may smell in such a will, most rank  
Fowl disproportion: thoughts unnatural.  
But pardon me: I do not in position.  
Destinctly speak of her, though I may fear  
Her will recoiling to her better judgement,  
May fall to match you with her country forms,  
And happily repent●  Oth. 
Farewell, if more  
Thou dost perceive, let me know more, set on  
Thy wife ●o observe: leave me jago.  jag. 
My Lord I take my leave.  Oth. 
Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless  
Sees and knows more, much more than he unfoulds.  
My Lord, I would I might entreat your honour,  jag. 
To scan this thing no further, leave it to time,  
Tho it be fit, that Cassio have his place,  
For sure he fills it up with great ability:  
Yet if you please to hold him off awhile,  
Your shall by that perceive him and his means;  
Note if your Lady strain her entertainment,  
With any strong or vehement importunity,  
Much will be seene in that, in the mean time,  
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,  
As worthy cause I have, to fear I am;  
And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.  Oth. 
Fear not my government.  jag. 
I once more take my leave.  Exit Oth. 
This fellow's of exceeding honesty,  
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit  
Of humane dealing: if I do prove her haggard,  
Tho that her loesses were my dear heart strings,  
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind,  
To pray at fortune. Happily, for I am black,  
And have not those soft parts of conversation,  
That Chamb●rers have, or for I am de●lind  
Into the vault of years; yet that's not much,  
she's gone, I am abused, and my relief  
Must be to loath her: O curse of marriage,  
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,  
And not their appetites: I had rather be a Toad,  
And live upon the vapour in a dungeon,  
Then keep a corner in a thing I love,  
For others uses: yet 'tis the plague of great ones,  
Prerogatived are they less than the base,  
'tis destiny, vn●●unnable, like death:  
Even than this forked plague is fated to us,  
When we do quicken: Desdemona comes,  
If she be false, O then heaven mocks it selfe,  
I'll not beleeue it.  Enter Desdemona and Emillia. Desd. 
How now my dear Othello?  
Your dinner, and the generous Islander  
By you inuit●ed, do attend your presence,  Oth. 
I am to blame.  Des. 
Why is your speech so faint? are you not well?  Oth. 
I have a pain upon my forehead, here.  Des. 
Faith that's with watching, 'twill away again;  
Let me but bind your head, within this hour  
It will be well again.  Oth. 
Your napkin is too little:  
Let it alone, come I'll go in with you.  Des. 
I am very sorry that you are not well.  Em. 
I am glad I have found this napkin,  Ex. Oth. and Desd. 
This was her first remembrance from the Moor,  
My way ward husband, hath a hundred times  
Wooed me to steal it, but she so love's the token,  
For he conjured her, she should ever keep it,  
That she revenues it ever more about her,  
To kiss, and talk to; I'll ha' the work ta'en out,  
And giv't jago: what hee'l● do with it,  Enter Iago. 
Heaven knows, not I,  
I nothing know, but for his fantasy.  jag. 
How now, what do you here alone?  Em. 
Do not you chide, I have a thing for you.  jag. 
A thing for me, it is a common thing.  Em. 
Ha'?  jag. 
To have a foolish thing.  Em. 
O, is that all? what at will you give me now,  
For that sa●e handkercher?  jag. 
What handkerchief?  Em. 
What handkerchief?  
Why that the Moor first gave to Desdemona,  
That which so often you did bid me steal.  jag. 
Hast stole it from her?  Em. 
No faith, she let ●t drop by negligence,  
And to the advantage, I being here, took't up:  
Look here it is.  jag. 
A good wench, give it me.  Em. 
What will you do with it, that you have been  
So earnest to have me filch it?  jag. 
Why, what's that to you?  Em. 
If it be not for some purpose of import,  
Give me't again, poor Lady, she'll run mad,  
When she shall lack it.  jag. 
Be not you known on't, I have use for it:— go leave me;  
I will 〈◊〉 Cassio's Lodging lose this napkin,  Exit Em. 
And let him find it: tri●les light as air,  
Are to the jealous, confirmations strong  
As proofs of holy writ, this may do something,  
Dangerous conceits are in their nature's poisons,  
Which at the first are scarce found to distaste.  
But with a little art, upon the blood.  Ent. Othello. 
Burn like the minds of sulphur: I did say so:  
look where he comes, not Poppy, ●or Mandragora,  
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,  
Shall euer medicine thee to that sweet sleep,  
Which thou owedst yesterday.  Oth. 
Ha', ha', false to me, to me?  jag. 
Why how now General? no more of that.  Oth. 
Avaunt, be gone, thou hast set me on the rack,  
I swear, 'tis better to be much abused,  
Then but to know a little.  jag. 
How now my Lord?  Oth. 
What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust:  
I saw't not, thought it not, it harmed not me,  
I slept the next night well, was free, and merry;  
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips,  
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen,  
Let him not know'r, and he's not robbed at all.  jag. 
I am sorry to hear this.  Oth. 
I had been happy if the general Camp,  
Pioneers, and all, had tasted her sweet body,  
So I had nothing known: O now for ever  
Farewell the tranquil mind, farewell content:  
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars.  
That makes ambition virtue: O farewell,  
Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trump,  
The spirit-stirring Drum, the eare-peircing Fife;  
The royal Banner, and all quality,  
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war.  
And O ye mortal Engines, whose wide throats,  
The immortal joves' great clamour counterfeit;  
Farewell, Othello's Occupation's gone.  jag. 
Is't possible my Lord?  Oth. 
Villain, be sure thou prove my Love a whore,  
Be sure of it, give me the oculer proof,  
Or by the worth of man's eternal soul,  
Thou hadst been better have been borne a dog,  
Then answer my waked wrath.  jag. 
Is't come to this?  Oth. 
Make me to see't, or at the least so prove it,  
That the probation, bear no hinge, nor loop,  
To hang a doubt on: or woe upon thy life.  jag. 
My noble Lord.  Oth. 
If thou dost slander her, and torture me,  
Never pray more, abandon all remorse.  
On horror's head, horrors accumilate:  
Do deeds, to make heaven weep, all earth amazed,  
For nothing canst thou to damnation add greater than that.  jag. 
O grace, O heaven defend me,  
Are you a man, have you a soul or sense?  
God buy you, take mine office,— O wretched fool,  
That livest to make thine honesty a vice,  
O monstrous world, take note, take note, O world,  
To be direct and honest, is not safe,  
I thank you for this profit, and from hence,  
I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence.  Oth. 
Nay stay, thou shouldst be honest.  jag. 
I should be wise, for honesties a fool,  
And loses that it works for:  
I see sir, you are eaten up with passion,  
I do repent me that I put it to you,  
You would be satisfied.  Oth. 
Would, nay, I will.  jag. 
And many, but how, how satisfied my Lord?  
Would you, the supervisor grossly gape on,  
Behold her topped?  Oth. 
Death and damnation— oh.  jag. 
It were a tedious difficulty I think,  
To bring 'em to that prospect, dam'em then,  
If ever mortal eyes did see them bolster  
More than their own; what then, how then?  
What shall I say? where's satisfaction?  
It is impossible you should see this.  
Were they as prime as Goats, as hot as Monkeys,  
As salt as Wolves, in pride; and fools as gro●●e,  
As ignorance made drunk: But yet I say,  
If imputation and strong circumstances,  
Which lead directly to the door of truth,  
Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.  Oth. 
●iue me a living reason, that she's disloyal.  jag. 
I do not like the office,  
But ●●th I am entered into this cause so fare,  
Pricked to't by foolish honesty and love,  
I will go on: I lay with Cassio lately,  
And being troubled with a raging tooth, I could not sleep.  
There are a kind of men so lose of soul,  
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs,  
One of this kind is Cassio:  
In sleep I heard him say. Sweet Desdemona,  
Let us be merry, let us hide our loves;  
And then sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,  
Cry out, sweet creature, and then kiss me hard,  
As if he plucked up kisses by the roots,  
That grew upon my lips, than laid his leg  
Over my thigh, and sighed, and kissed, and then  
Cried, cursed fate, that gave thee to the Moor.  Oth. 
O Monstrous, monstrous.  jag. 
Nay, this was but his dream.  Oth. 
But this devoted a foregone conclusion,  jag. 
'tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream,  
And this may help to thicken other proofs,  
That do demonstrate thinly.  Oth. 
I'll tear her all to pieces.  jag. 
Nay, but be wise, yet we see nothing done,  
She may be honest yet, tell me but this,  
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,  
Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand.  Oth. 
I gave her such a one, 'twas my first gift.  jag. 
I know not that, but such a handkerchief,  
I am ●ure it was your wives, did I to day  
See Cassio wipe his beard with.  Oth. 
Iced be that.  jag. 
If it be that, or any, it was hers,  
It speaks against her, with the other proofs.  Oth. 
O that the slave had forty thousand lives,  
One is too poor, too weak for my reuenge:  
Now do I see 'tis time, look here jago,  
All my fond love, thus do I blow to heaven,— 'tis gone.  
Arise black vengeance, from thy hollow Cell,  
Yield up O love thy crown, and hearted Throne,  
To tyrannous hate, swell bosom with thy fraught,  
For 'tis of Aspecks tongues.  jag. 
Pray be content.  he kneels. Oth. 
O blood, Iago, blood.  jag. 
Patience I say, your mind perhaps may change.  Oth. 
Never:  
In the due reverence of a sacred vow,  
I here engage my words.  jag. 
D●e notrise yet:  
Witness you everburning lights above,  
You Elements that clip us round about,  Iago kneels. 
Witness that here, Iago doth give up  
The excellency of his wit, hand, heart,  
To wronged Othello's seruice: let him command,  
And to obey, shall be remorse,  
What bloody work so ever.  Oth. 
I greet thy love:  
Not with vain thankes, but with acceptance bounteous,  
And will upon the instant put thee ●o'●,  
Within these three days, let me hear thee say,  
That Cassio's not alive,  jag. 
My friend is dead:  
'tis ●one as you request, but let her live.  Oth. 
Damn her lewd minks O d●●●her,  
Come, go with me apart, I will withdraw  
To furnish me with some swift means of death,  
For the fair devil: now art thou my Lieutenant.  jag. 
I am your own for ever.  Exeunt. Enter Desdemonia Emilla and the Clown. Des. 
Do you know 〈◊〉, where the Lieutenant Cassio lies?  Clo. 
I dare not say he lies any where.  Des. 
Why man?  
He is a Soldier, and for one to say a Soldier lies, is s●abbing.  Des. 
Go to, where jodges he?  Clo. 
I know not where he lodges, and for me to device a lodging, and say he lies there, were to lie in my throat.  Desd. 
Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?  Clo, 
I will cathechize the world for him, that is, make questions  
And by them answer.  Desd. 
Seek him, bid him come hither, ●ell him I have moved my  
Lord in his behalf, and hope all will be well.  Clo. 
To do this is within the compass of a man, and therefore  
I'll attempt the doing of it.  Exit. Desd. 
Where should I lose that handkercher Emillia?  Em. 
I know not Madam.  Des. 
Believe me, I had rather lose my purse  
Full of C●usa does: and but my noble Moor  
Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness,  
As jealous creatures are, it were enough,  
To put him to ill thinking.  Em. 
Is he not jealous.  Desd. 
Who he? I think the Sun where he was borne,  
Drew all such humours from him.  Enter Othello. Em. 
Look where he comes.  Des. 
I will not leave him now,  
Let Cassio be called to him: how is it with you my Lord?  Oth. 
Well my good Lady: O hardness to dissemble:  
How do you Desdomona?  Des. 
Well, my good Lord.  Oth. 
Give me your hand, this hand is moist my Lady.  Des. 
It yet has felt no age, nor known no sorrow.  Oth. 
This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart,  
Not hot and moist, this hand of yours requires  
A sequester from liberty: fasting and praying,  
Much castigation, exercise devout;  
For ●eere's a young and swetting devil here,  
That commonly rebels: 'tis a good hand,  
A frank one.  Des. 
You may indeed say so,  
For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.  Oth. 
A liberal hand, the hearts of old gave hands,  
But our new herral dry is hands, not hearts.  Des. 
I cannot speak of this, come, come, your promise.  Oth. 
What promise chuck?  Des. 
I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.  Oth. 
I have a salt and sullen rheum offends me,  
Lend me thy handkerchief,  Des. 
Here my Lord.  Oth. 
That which I gave you.  Des. 
I have it not about me.  Oth. 
Not.  Des. 
No faith my Lord.  Oth. 
That's a favit: that handkerchief  
Did an Egyptian to my mother give,  
She was a charmer, and could almost read  
The thoughts of people; she told her while she kept it,  
'Twould make her amiable, and sub due my father  
Entirely to her love: But if she lost it,  
Entirely to her love: But if she lost it,  
Or made a gift of it: my father's eye  
Should hold her lothly, and his spirits should hurt  
After new fancies: she dying, gave it me,  
And bid me when my fate would have me wi●e,  
To give it her; I did so, and take heed on't,  
Make it a darling, like your precious eye,  
To lose, or give't away, were such perdition,  
As nothing else could match.  Desd. 
I'●● possible?  Oth. 
'tis true, there's magic in the web of it,  
A Sibyl that had numbered in the world,  
The Sun to make two hundred compasses,  
In her prophetic fury, sowed the work;  
The worms were ●allowed that did breed the ●ilke,  
And it was died in Mummy, with the skilful  
Conserves of maiden's hearts.  Des. 
I faith i'●t true?  Oth. 
Most veritable, therefore look to't well.  Des. 
Then would to God, that I had never seen it.  Oth. 
Ha', wherefore?  Des. 
Why do you speak so startingly and rashly.  Oth. 
Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out o'the way?  Des. 
Heaven bless us.  Oth. 
Say you?  Des. 
It is not lost, but what and if it were?  Oth. 
Ha.  Des. 
I say it is not lost.  Oth. 
Fetched, let me see it,  Des. 
Why so I can sir, but I will not now,  
This is a trick, to put me from my suit,  
I pray let Cassio, be received again.  Oth. 
Fetch me that handkerchief, my 〈…〉.  Des. 
Come, come, you'll never meete a more 〈◊〉 man.  Oth. 
The handkerchief.  Des. 
I pray talk me of Cassio.  Oth. 
The handkerchief.  Des. 
A man that all his time,  
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,  
Shared dangers with you.  Oth. 
The handkerchief.  Des. 
I faith you are too blame.  Oth. 
Zouns.  Exit. Em. 
Is not this man jealous?  Des. 
I ne'er saw this before:  
Sure there's some wonder in this handkerchief,  
I am most unhappy in the loss.  Enter jago and Cassio. Em. 
'tis not a year or two shows us a man,  
●hey are all but stomaches, and we all but food;  
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full,  
They belch us; look you, Cassio and my husband.  jag. 
There is no other way, 'tis she must do it,  
And lo the happiness, go, and importune her.  Des. 
How now good Cassio, what's the news with you?  Cas. 
Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you,  
That by your virtuous means, I may again  
Exist, and be a member of his love,  
Whom I, with all the duty of my heart,  
Entirely honour, I would not be delayed:  
If my offence be of such mortal kind,  
That neither service past, nor present sorrows,  
Nor purposed merit, in futurity  
Can ransom me, into his love again  
But to know so, must be my benefit,  
So shall I clothe me in a forced content,  
And shoot myself up in some other course,  
To fortunes alms.  Des. 
Alas thrice gentle Cassio,  
My advocation is not now in tune;  
My Lord is not my Lord, nor should I know him,  
Were he in favour, as in humour al●red.  
So help me, every spirit sanctified,  
As I have spoken for you, all my best,  
And stood within the blank of his displeasure,  
For my free speech: you must a while be patiented,  
What I can do I will, and more I will  
Then for myself I dare, let that suffice you.  jag. 
Is my Lord angry?  Em 
He went hence but now,  
And certainly in strange unquietness.  jag. 
Can he be angry? I have seen the Cannon,  
When it hath blown his ranks into the air;  
And (like the Devil) from his very arm,  
Puffed his own brother, and can he be angry?  
Something of moment then: I will go meet him,  
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.  Desd. 
I prithee do so: something sure of State,  
Either from Venice, or some unhatched practice,  
Made demonstrable here in Cypress to him,  
Hath pudled his clear spirit, and in such cases  
men's natures wrangle with inferior things,  
Tho great ones are the object,  
'tis even so: for let our finger ache,  
And it endues our other heathfull members,  
Even to that sense of pain; nay, we must think,  
Men are not go●,  
Nor of them look for such observances  
As fits the Bridal: beshrew me much Emillia,  
I was (unhandsome, warrior as I am)  
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;  
But now I find, I had suborned the witness,  
And he's indicted falsely.  Em. 
Pray heaven it be State matters, as you think,  
And no conception, nor no jealous toy  
Concerning you.  Desd. 
Alas the day, I never gave him cause.  Em. 
Butiealous souls will not be answered so,  
They are not ever jealous for the cause,  
But jealous for the 〈◊〉 jealous: 'tis a monster,  
Begot upon itself, borne on itself.  Desd. 
Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind.  Em. 
Lady, Amen.  Des. 
I will go● seek him, Cassio, walk here about,  
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,  Exeunt Desd. and Emillia. 
And seek to effect it to my uttermost.  Cas. 
I humbly thank your Ladyship.  Bi●n. 
Save you friend Cassio.  Enter Bianca. Cas. 
What make you from home?  
How is it with you my most fair Bianca?  
I faith sweet love I was coming to your house.  Bian. 
And I was going to your Lodging Cassio;  
What, keep a week away? seven days and nights;  
Eightscore eight hours, and lovers absent hours,  
More tedious than the dial, eight score times,  
No weary reckoning.  Cas. 
Pardon me Bianca,  
I have this while with laden thoughts been pressed,  
But I shall in a more conu●ni●nt time,  
Strike off this score of absence: sweet Bianca,  
Take me this work out.  Bian. 
Oh Cassio, whence came this?  
This is some token from a newer friend,  
To the felt absence, now I feel a cause,  
〈◊〉 come t● this?  Cas. 
Go to woman,  
Throw your vile ghesses in the devils teeth,  
From whence you have them, you are jealous now,  
That this is from some: mistress, some remembrance▪  
No by my faith Bianca,  Bian. 
Why who's is it?  Cas. 
I know not sweet, I found it in my chamber,  
I like the work well, ere it be demanded,  
As like enough it will, I'd have it copied,  
Take it, and do't, and leave me for this time.  Bian. 
Leave you, wherefore?  Cas. 
I do attend here on the General,  
And think it no addition, nor my wish,  
To have him see me womaned.  Bian. 
But that you do not love me:  
I pray you bring me on the way alittle,  
And say, if I shall see you soon at night.  Cas. 
'tis but a little way, that I can ●●●ng you,  
For I attend here, but I'll see you soon.  Bian. 
'tis very good, I must be circumstanced.  Ex●●nt.  

Actus. 4.  Enter jago and Othello. jag. 
Will you think so?  Oth. 
Think so jago.  jag. 
What, to kisle in private?  Oth. 
An unauthorized kiss.  jag. 
Or to be naked with her friend a-bed,  
An hour, or more, not meaning any harm.  Oth. 
Naked a-bed jago, and not mean harm?  
It is hypocrisy against the devil:  
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,  
The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven▪  jag. 
So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip;  
But if I give my wife a handkerchief.  Oth. 
What then?  jag. 
Why then 'tis hers my Lord, and being hers,  
She may, I think, bestowed on any man.  Oth. 
She is protectres of her honour to,  
May she give that?  jag. 
Her honour is an essence that's not s●●ne,  
They have it very oft, that have it not:  
But for the handkerchief.  Oth. 
By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it:  
Thou saidst (O it comes o'er my memory,  
As doth the Raven o'er the infected house,  
Boding to all.) He had my handkerchief.  jag. 
I, what of that?  Oth. 
That's not so good now.  jag. 
What if I had said I had seen him do you wrong?  
Or heard him say (as knaves be such abroad)  
Who ●●uing by their own importunate suit,  
Or by the voluntaty dotage of some mistress,  
Convinced, or supplied them, cannot choose,  
But they must blab.  Oth. 
Hath he said any thing?  jag. 
He hath my Lord, but be you well assured,  
No more than he'll unswerare.  Oth. 
What hath he said?  jag. 
Faith that he did— I know not what he did.  Oth. 
But what?  jag. 
Lye.  Oth. 
With her?  jag. 
With her, on her, what you will.  Oth. 
Lie with her, lie on her? We say lie on her, when they belly her; lie with her, Zouns, that's fulsome, handkerchiefs, Confession, hankerchers.  He falls down. jag. 
Work on my medicine, work: thus credulous fools are caught, and many worthy and chaste dames, even thus all guiltless, meet reproach; What ho my Lord, my Lord I say, Othello,— how now Cassio.  Enter Cassio. Cas. 
What's the matter?  jag. 
My Lord is fall'n into an Epilepsy,  
This is his second fit, he had one yesterday.  Cas. 
Rub him about the Temples.  jag. 
No, forbear,  
The Lethargy, must have his quiet course,  
If not he foams at mouth, and by and by  
Breaks out to savage madness: look he stirs:  
Do you withdraw yourself a little while,  
He will recover strait, when he is gone,  
I would on great occasion speak with you.  
How is it General, have you not hurt your head?  Oth. 
Dost thou mock me?  jag. 
I mock you? no by Heaven,  
Would you would bear your fortunes like a man.  Oth. 
A horned man's a monster, and a beast.  jag. 
There's many a beast then in a populous City,  
And many a civil monster.  Oth. 
Did he confess?  jag. 
Good sir be a man,  
Think every bearded fellow, that's but yoked,  
May draw with you, there's millions now alive,  
That nightly lies in those unproper beds,  
Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better:  
O 'tis the spite of hell, the fiends arch mock,  
To 〈◊〉 a wanton in a secure Coach,  
And to suppose her chaste: No, let me know,  
And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.  Oth. 
O thou art wise, 'tis certain.  jag. 
Stand you a while apart,  
Con●ine yourself but in a patiented list:  
Whilst you were here ere while, mad with your grief,  
A passion most unsuting such a man,  
Cassio came hither, I shifted him away,  
And laid good excuse, upon your extacy,  
Bid him anon retire, and here speak with me,  
The which he promised: but incave your selfe,  
And mark the jeers, the Jibes, and notable scorns,  
That dwell in every region of his face;  
For I will make him tell the tale anew,  
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when,  
He has, and is again to cope your wife:  
I say, but mark his ieasture, marry patience,  
Or I shall say, you are all in all, in spleen,  
And nothing of a man.  Oth. 
Dost thou hear jago,  
I will be found most cunning in my patience;  
But dost thou hear, most bloody.  jag. 
That's not amiss:  
But yet keep time in all; will you withdraw?  
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca;  
A huswife that by selling her desires,  
Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a Creature,  
That dotes on Cassio: as 'tis the strumpet's plague  
To beguile many, and be beguiled by one,  Ent. Cassio. 
He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain  
From the excess of laughter: here he comes:  
As he ●●all smile, Othello shall go mad,  
And his unbookish jealousy must construe  
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviour,  
Quite in the wrong: How do you now Lieutenant?  Cas. 
The worse, that you give me the addition,  
Whose want even kills me▪  jag. 
Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't.  
Now if this suit lay in Bianca's power,  
How quickly should you speed.  Cas. 
Alas poor Caitiff.  Oth. 
Look how he laughs already.  jag. 
I never knew a woman love man so.  Cas. 
Alas poor rogue, I think i'faith she love's me.  Oth. 
Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.  jag. 
Do you hear Cassio?  Oth. 
Now he importunes him to tell it on,  
Go to, well said.  jag. 
She gives it out that you shall marry her,  
Do you intent it?  Cas. 
Ha', ha', ha'.  Oth. 
Do you triumph Roman, do you triumph?  Cas. 
I marry her? I prithee bear some charity to my wit,  
Do not think it so unwholesome: ha', ha', ha'.  Oth. 
So, so, so, so, laugh that wins.  jag. 
Faith the cry goes, you shall marry her.  Cas. 
Prithee say true.  jag. 
I am a very villain else,  Oth. 
Ha' you stored me well.  Cas. 
This is the 〈◊〉 own giving out; she is persuaded I 〈◊〉 marry her, out of her own loue and flattery, not out of my promise.  Oth. 
jago beckons me, now he gins the story.  Cas. 
She was heere even now, she haunts me in every place, I was other day, talking on the sea bank, with certain Venetians, and thither comes this bauble, by this hand she falls thus about my neck.  Oth. 
Crying, O dear Cassio, as it were: his gesture imports it.  Cas. 
So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales, and pulls me, ha', ha', ha'.  Oth. 
Now he tells how she plucked him to my Chamber,  
I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throwed to.  Cas. 
Well, I must leave her company.  Enter Bianca. jag. 
Before me, look where she comes,  
'tis such another ficho; marry a perfumed one, what do you mean by this haunting of me.  Bian. 
Let the devil and his dam haunt you, what did you mean by that same handkerchief, you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it; I must take out ●he whole work, a likely piece of work, that you should find it in your chamber, and not know who left it there: this is some minxes token, and I must take out the work; there, give it the hobby horse, wheresoever you had it, I'll take out no work on't.  Cas. 
How now my sweet Bianca, how now, how now?  Oth. 
By heaven that should be my handkerchief.  Bian. 
An you'll come to supper to night, you may, an you will not, come when you are next prepared for.  Exit. jag. 
After her, after her.  Cas. 
Faith I must, she'll rail ●'the street else.  jag. 
Will you sup there?  Cas. 
Faith I intent so.  jag. 
Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very fain speak with you.  Cas. 
Prithee come, will you?  jag. 
Go to, say no more.  Exit Cassio. Oth. 
How shall I murder him jago?  jag. 
Did you perceive, how he laughed at his vice?  Oth. 
O jago,  jag. 
And did you see the handkerchief?  Oth. 
Was that mine?  Oth. 
I would have him nine years a killing; a fine woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman.  jag. 
Nay you must forget.  Oth. 
And let her rot and perish, and be damned to night, for she shall not live: no, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand: O the world has not a sweeter creature, she might lie by an Emperor's side, and command him tasks.  jag. 
Nay that's not your way.  Oth. 
Hang her, I do but say what she is: So delicate with her needle, an admirable musician, O she will sing the savageness out of a Bear; of so hie and plenteous wit and inuention.  jag. 
she's the worse for all this.  Oth. 
A thousand thousand times: and then of so gentle a condition.  jag. 
I, too gentle.  Oth. 
I that's certain, but yet the pity of it jago, the pity.  ja. 
If you be so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend, for if it touches not you, it comes near no body.  Oth. 
I will chop her into messes— cuckolded me!  jag. 
O 'tis foul in her.  Oth. 
With mine Officer.  jag. 
That's fouler.  Oth. 
Get me some poison jago, this night I'll not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again, this night jago.  jag. 
Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.  Oth. 
Good, good, the justice of ●t pleases very good.  jag. 
And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you shall hear more by midnight.  A Trumpet. Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants. Oth. 
Excellent good:  
What Trumpet is that same?  jag. 
Something from Venice sure, 'tis Lodovice,  
Come from the Duke, and see your wife is with 〈◊〉.  Lod. 
God save the worthy General.  Oth. 
With all my heart sir.  Lod. 
The Duke and Senators of Venice greet you.  Oth. 
I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.  Des. 
And what's the news good cousin Lodovico?  jag. 
I am very glad to see you Signior:— welcome to Cypress.  Lod. 
I thank you, how does Leiutenant Cassio?  jag. 
Life's sir.  Des. 
Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my Lord,  
An unkind breach, but you shall make all well.  Oth. 
Are you sure of that?  Des. 
My Lord.  Oth. 
This fail you not to do, as you will.  Lod. 
He did not call, he's busy in the paper:  
Is there division between thy Lord and Cassio?  Des. 
A most unhappy one, I would do much  
To atone them, for the love I bea●● to Cassio.  Oth. 
Fire and Brimstone.  Des. 
My Lord.  Oth. 
Are you wise?  Desd. 
What, is he angry?  Lod. 
May be the letter moved him;  
For as I think, they do command him home,  
Deputing Cassio in his government.  Desd. 
By my troth, I am glad on't.  Oth. 
Indeed.  Des. 
My Lord.  Oth. 
I am glad to see you mad.  Des. 
How sweet Othello?  Oth. 
Devil.  Des. 
I have not deserved this.  Lod. 
My Lord, this would not be believed in Venice,  
Tho I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much,  
Make her ame●●●s, she weeps.  Oth. 
O Devil, Devil,  
If that the earth could teem with women's tears  
Each drop she falls, would prove a Crocodile:  
Out of my sight.  Des. 
I will not stay to offend you.  Lod. 
Truly an obedient Lady:  
I do beseech your Lordship, call her back.  Oth. 
Mistress.  Des 
My Lord.  Oth. 
What would you with her sir?  Lod. 
Who, I my Lord?  Oth. 
I, you did wish that I would make her turn:  
Sir she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,  
And turn again, and she can weep sir, weep;  
And she's obedient, as you say, obedient;  
Very obedient, proceed you in your tears,  
Concerning this sir: O well painted passion:  
I am commanded here:— get you away,  
I'll send for you anon:— Sir, I obey the mandat,  
And will return to Venice:— hence, avaunt,  
Cassio shall have my place; and sir to night  
I do entreat that we may sup together,  
You are welcome sir to Cypress,— goats and monkeys.  Exit. Lod. 
Is this the noble Moor, whom our full Senate  
Call all in all sufficient? This the noble nature,  
Whom passion could not shake? Whose solid virtue,  
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance  
Can neither graz●, nor pierce?  jag. 
He is much changed.  Lod. 
Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?  jag. 
He's that he is, I may not breathe my censure,  
What he might be, if as he might, he is not,  
I would to heaven he were.  Lod. 
What, strike his wife.  jag. 
Faith that was not so well; yet would I knew  
That stroke would prove the worst.  Lod. 
Is it his use?  
Or did the letters work upon his blood.  
And new create this fault?  jag. 
Alas, alas.  
It is not honesty in me to speak,  
What I have seen and knowne, you shall observe him,  
And his own courses will denote him so,  
That I may save my speech: do but go after,  
And mark how he continues.  Lod. 
I am sorry that I am deceived in him.  Exeunt. Enter Othello and Emillia. Oth. 
You have seen nothing then.  Em. 
Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.  Oth. 
Yes, and you have seen Cassio and she together.  Em. 
But then I saw no harm, and then I heard  
Each syllable that breath made up between 'em.  Oth. 
What, did they never whisper?  Em. 
Never, my Lord.  Oth. 
Nor send you out o'the way?  Em. 
Never.  Oth. 
To fetch her fan, her mask, her gloves, nor nothing?  Em. 
Never, my Lord.  Oth. 
That's strange.  Em. 
I durst my Lord, to wager she is honest,  
Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,  
Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bosom,  
If any wretch ha' put this in your head,  
Let heavens requite it with the Serpent's curse,  
For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,  
There's no man happy, the purest of her Sex  
Is foul as slander.  Exit Emillia. Oth. 
Bid her come hither, go,  
She says enough, yet she's a simple bawd,  
That cannot say as much; this is a subtle whore,  
A closet, lock and key, of villainous secrets,  
And yet she'll kneel and pray, I ha' seen her do't.  Enter Desdemona and Emillia. Des. 
My Lord, what is your will?  Oth. 
Pray chuck come hither.  Des. 
What is your pleasure?  Oth. 
Let me see your eyes— look in my face.  Des. 
What horrible fancy's this?  Oth. 
Some of your function mistress,  
Leave procre●nts alone, and shut the door,  
Cough, or cry 'em, if any body come,  
Your mystery, your mystery: nay dispatch.  Exit Em. Des. 
Upon my knees, what does your speech import?  
I understand a fury in your words,  
But not the words.  Oth. 
Why, what art thou?  Des. 
Your wife my Lord, your true and loyal wife.  Oth. 
Come, swear it, damn thyself,  
Lest being like one of heaven, the devils themselves  
Should fear to cease thee, therefore be double damned.  
Swear thou art honest.  Des. 
Heaven doth truly know it.  Oth. 
Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as hell.  Des. 
To whom, my Lord, with whom? how am I false?  Oth. 
O Desdemona, away, away, away.  Des. 
Alas the heavy day, why do you weep?  
Am I the occasion of those tears my Lord?  
If haply you my father do suspect.  
An Instrument of this your calling back,  
Lay not your blame on me; if you have left him,  
Why I have left him too.  Oth. 
Had it pleased heaven  
To try me with affliction, had he rammed  
All kinds of sores, and shames on my bare head.  
S●eep'd me in poverty, to the very lips,  
Giu●n to captivity, me and my hopes,  
I should have found in some part of my soul  
A drop of patience; but alas, to make me  
A fixed figure, for the time of scorn,  
To point his slow unmoving fingers at— oh, oh,  
Yet could I bear that too, well, very well.  
But there: where I have garnered up my heart,  
Where either I must live, or bear no life,  
The fountain, from the which my currant ●●●nes,  
Or else dries up, to be discarded thence,  
Or keep it as a Cistern, for foul Toads  
To knot and gender in: tume thy complexion there,  
Patience thy young and rose-liped Cherubin,  
I here look grim as Hell.  Des. 
I hope my noble Lord esteems me honest.  Oth. 
O ●, as summer's flies, are in the shambles,  
That quicken even with blowing:  
O thou black w●ede, why art so lovely fair?  
Thou smellest so sweet, that the sense aches at thee,  
Would thou hadst ne'er been borne.  Des. 
Alas, what ignorant sin have ● committed?  Oth. 
Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,  
Made to write whore on?— What, committed?  
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the Moon winks,  
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,  
Is hushed within the hollow mine of earth,  
And will not hear'●:— what committed,- impudent strumpet.  Des. 
By heaven you do me wrong.  Oth. 
Are not you a strumpet?  Des. 
No, as I am a Christian:  
If to preserve this vessel for my Lord,  
From any hated foul unlawful touch,  
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.  Oth. 
What, not a whore?  Des. 
No, as I shall be saved.  Enter Emillia. Oth. 
Is't possible?  Des. 
O heaven forgiveness.  Oth. 
I cry you mercy,  
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,  
That married with Othello: you mistress,  
That have the office opposite to S. Peter,  
And keeps the gates in hell, I, you, you, you;  
We ha' done our course; there's money for your pains,  
I pray you turn the key, and keep our counsel.  Exit. Em. 
Alas, what does this Gentleman conceive?  
How do you Madam how do you my good Lady?  Des. 
Faith half asleep.  Em. 
Good Madam, what's the matter with my Lord?  Des. 
With who?  Em. 
Why with my Lord Madam.  Des. 
I ha' none, do not talk to me Emillia,  
I cannot weep, nor answer have I none,  
But what should go by water: prithee to night  
Lay on my bed our wedding sheets, remember,  
And call thy husband hither.  Em. 
Here is a charge indeed.  Exit. Des. 
'tis meet I should be used so, very well;  
●●ow have I been behaved, that he might stick  
The smallest opinion, on my greatest abuse.  Lag. 
What is your pleasure Madam,  
How i●● with you?  Enter lago. and Emillia. Des. 
I cannot tell: those that do teach young babes  
Do it with gentle means, ●nd easy tasks,  
He might ha' chid me so, for in good faith,  
I am a child at chiding.  lag. 
What is the matter Lady?  Em. 
Alas lago, my Lord hath so bewhored her,  
Thrown such despite, and heavy terms upon her,  
As true hearts cannot bear.  Des. 
Am I that name lago?  lag. 
What name fair Lady?  Des. 
Such as she says my Lord did say I was?  Em. 
He called her whore: A beggar in his drink,  
Can not have laid such terms upon his Callet.  lag. 
Why did he so?  Des. 
I do not know, I am sure I am none such.  lag. 
Do not weep, do not weep: alas the day.  Em. 
Has she forsook so many noble matches,  
Her Father, and her Country, all her friends,  
To be called whore? would it not make one weep?  Des. 
It is my wretched fortune.  jag. 
Beshrew him for it; how comes this trick upon him?  Des. 
Nay, heaven doth know.  Em. 
I will be hanged, if some eternal villain,  
Some busy and insinuating rogue,  
Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,  
Have not devised this slander, I'll be hanged else.  jag. 
Fie, there is no such man, it is impossible.  Des. 
If any such there be, heaven pardon him.  Em. 
A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones:  
Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company?  
What place, what time, what for me, what likelihood?  
The moor's abused by some outrageous knave:  
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow,  
O heaven, that such companions thou'dst unfold,  
And put in every honest hand a whip,  
To lash the rascal naked through the world,  
Even from the East to the West.  jag. 
Speak within doors.  Em. 
O fie upon him; some such squire he was,  
That turned your wit, the seamy side without,  
And made you to suspect me with the Moor.  jag. 
You are a fool, go to.  Des. 
O Good jago,  
What shall I do to win my Lord again?  
Good friend go to him, for by this light of heaven,  
I know not how I lost him.  jag. 
I pray you be content, 'tis but his humour,  
The business of the State does him offence,  
And he does chide with you.  Des. 
If 'twere no other.  jag. 
'tis but so, I warrant you;  
Hark how these Instruments summon you to supper,  
And the great Messengers of Venice stay,  
Go in, and weep not, all things shall be well.  Exit women. 
How now Roderigo?  Enter Roderigo. Rod. 
I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.  jag. 
What in the contrary?  Rod. 
Every day, thou dof●●st me, with some devise jago;  
And rather, as it seems to me, thou keepest from me,  
All conveniency, than suppliest me, with the least  
Advantage of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it,  
Nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace, what already  
I have foolishly suffered.  jag. 
Will you hear me Roderigo?  Rod. 
Faith I have heard too much, for your words,  
And performance are no kin together.  jag. 
You charge me most unjustly.  Rod. 
I have wasted myself out of means: the jewels you have had from me, to deliver to Desdemona, would half have corrupted a Votarist: you have told me she has received 'em, and returned me expectation, and comforts, of sudden respect, and acquittance, but I find none.  jag. 
Well, go to, very good.  Rod. 
Very well, go to, I cannot go to man, it is not very well, by this hand, I say 'tis very scurvy, and begin to find myself fopt in it.  jag. 
Very well.  Rod. 
I say it is not very well: I will make myself known to Desdemona, if she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit, and repent my unlawful solicitation, if not, assure yourself I'll seek satisfaction of you.  jag. 
You have said now.  Rod. 
I, and I have said nothing, but what I protest entendment of doing.  jag. 
Why now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from this time do build on thee, a better opinion than ever before, give me thy hand Roderigo: Thou hast taken against me a most just conception, but yet I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affairs.  Rod. 
It hath not appeared.  jag. 
I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgement: But Roderigo, if thou hast that within thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now, then ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valour, this night show it, if thou the next night following enjoyest not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery, and device engines for my life.  Rod. 
Well, is it within reason and compass?  jag. 
Sir, there is especial command come from Venice,  
To depute Cassio in Othello's place.  Rod. 
Is that true? why then Othello and Desdemona  
Return again to Venice.  jag. 
O no, he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him  
The fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered  
Here by some accident, wherein none can be so determinate, as the removing of Cassio.  Rod. 
How do you mean removing of him?  jag. 
Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place,  
Knocking out his brains.  Rod. 
And that you would have me to do.  jag. 
I, and if you dare do yourself a profit, and right, he sups to night with a harlot, and thither will I go to him;— he knows not yet of his honourable fortune: if you will watch his going thence, which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, you may take him at your pleasure: I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us: come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me, I will show you such a necessity in his death, that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high supper time, and the night grows to waste: about it.  Enter Othello, Desdemona, L●donico, Emillia, and Attendants. Rod. 
I will hear further reason for this.  jag. 
And you shall be satisfied.  Ex. jag. and Rod. Lod. 
I do beseech you sir, trouble yourself no further.  Oth. 
O pardon me, it shall do me good to walk.  Lod. 
Madame, good night, I humbly thank your Ladyship.  Des. 
Your honour is most welcome.  Oth. 
Will you walk sir:— O Desdemona.  Des. 
My Lord.  Oth. 
Get you to bed, o'the instant I will be returned, forthwith, dispatch your Attendant there,— look it be done.  Exeunt. Des. 
I will my Lord.  Em. 
How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.  Des. 
He says he will return incontinent:  
He hath commanded me to go to bed,  
And bade me to dismiss you.  Em. 
Dismiss me?  Des. 
It was his bidding, therefore good Emillia,  
Give me my nightly wearing, and adive,  
We must not now displease him.  Em. 
I would you had never seen him.  Des. 
So would not I, my love doth so approve him,  
That even his stubbornness, his checks and frowns.  
Prithee unpin me; have grace and favour in them.  Em. 
I have laid these sheets you bade me, on the bed.  Des. 
All's one good faith: how foolish are our minds?  
If I do die before thee, prithee shroud me  
In one of those same sheets.  Em. 
Come, come, you talk.  Des. 
My mother had a maid called Barbary,  
She was in love, and he she loved, proved mad,  
And did forsake her, she has a song of willow,  
An old thing 'twas, but it expre●t her fortune,  
And she died singing it, that Song to night,  
Will not go from my mind— hark, who's that knocks?  Em. 
It is the wind.  Des. 
Now get thee gone, good night:  
Mine eyes do itch, does that bode weeping?  Em. 
'tis neither here nor there.  Des. 
Wouldst thou do such a deed, for all the world?  Em. 
Why would not you.  Des. 
No, by this heavenly light.  Em. 
Nor I neither, by this heavenly light,  
I might do it as well in the dark.  Des. 
Would thou do such a thing for all the world?  Em. 
The world is a huge thing, it is a great price,  
For a small vice.  Des. 
Good troth I think thou wouldst not.  Em. 
By my troth I think I should, and vndoed when I had done it, marry I would not do such a thing for a joint ring; or for measures of Lawn, nor for Gowns, or Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any such exhibition; but for the whole world? uds pity, who would not make her husband a Cuckole, to make him a Monarch? I ●hould venture purgatory for it.  Des. 
Bes● rue me, if I would do such a wrong,  
For the whole world.  Em. 
Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'the world; and having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right.  Des. 
I do not think there is any such woman.  Em. 
Yes, a dozen, and as many to the vantage, as would store the world they played for.  Des. 
Good night, good night: God me such usage send,  
Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend.  Exeunt.  

Actus. 5.  Enter jago and Roderigo, jag. 
Here stand behind this Bulk, straight will he come,  
Wear thy good Rapier bare, and put it home▪  
Quicke, quick, fear nothing, I'll be at thy elbow;  
It makes us or it mars us, think of that,  
And fix most firm thy resolution.  Rod. 
Be near at hand, I may miscarry in't.  jag. 
Here at thy hand, be bold, and take thy sword.  Rod. 
I have no great devotion to the dead;  
And yet he has given me satisfying reasons,  
'tis but ● man gone: forth my sword, he dies.  jag. 
I have rubbed this young gnat almost to the sense,  
And he grows angry now: whether he kill Cassio,  
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,  
Every way makes my game; live Roderigo.  
He calls me to a restitution large,  
For Gold and jewels, that I bobbed from him,  
As gifts to Desdemona:  
It must not be, if Cassio do remain,  
He has a daily beauty in his life,  
That makes me ugly: and beside, the Moor  
May unfold me to him; there stand I in peril:  
No, he must die, be't so, I hear him coming.  Ent. Cas. Rod. 
I know his gate, 'tis he, villain thou diest.  Cas. 
That thrust had been my enemy indeed,  
But that my coat is better than thou thinkest,  
I will make proof of thine.  Rod. 
O I am slain.  Cas. 
I am maind for ever, light ho, murder, murder.  Enter Othello. Oth. 
The voice of Cassio, jago keeps his word.  Rod. 
O villain that I am  Oth. 
Hark 'tis even so.  Cas. 
O help ho, light, a Surgeon.  Oth. 
'tis he, O brave jago, honest and Iu●t,  
That hast such noble sense of thy friends wrong,  
Thou teachest me;— mino●, your dear lies dead,  
And your fate hies apace; strumpet I come;  
Forth of my heart, those charms thine eyes are blotted,  
Thy bed lu●t-staind, shall with lust's blood be spotted.  Ex. Enter Lodovico and Gratiano. Cas. 
What ho, no watch, no passage, murder, murder  Grat. 
'tis some mischance, the cry● very direful.  Cas. 
O help.  Lod. 
Hark.  Rod. 
O wretched villain.  Lod. 
Two or three groans, it is a heavy night,  
These may be counterfeits, let's think't unsafe  
To come into the cry without more help.  Rod. 
No body come, then ●●all I bleed to death.  Enter lago with a light. Lod. 
Hark.  Grat. 
Here's one comes in his shirt, with lights and weapons,  jag. 
Who's there? whose noise is this, that cries on murder.  Lod. 
I do not know.  jag. 
Did not you hear a cry?  Cas. 
Here, here, for heaven's sake help me.  jag. 
What's the matter.  Grat. 
This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it.  Lod. 
The same indeed, a very valiant fellow.  jag. 
What are you here, that cry so gre●uou●ly?  Cas. 
Iago, O I am spoiled, undone by villains,  
Give me some help.  jag. 
O my Lieutenant: what villains have done this?  Cas. 
I think the one of them is here about,  
And cannot make away.  jag. 
O treacherous villains:  
What are you there? come in and give some help.  Rod. 
O help me here.  Cas. 
That's one of 'em.  jag. 
O murderous slave, O villain.  Rod. 
O damned jago, O in humane dog,— o, o, o.  ja. 
Kill him i'the dark? where be those bloody thiefs?  
How silent is this Town? Ho, murder, murder:  
What may you be, are you of good or evil?  Lod. 
As you shall prove us, praise us.  jag. 
Signior Lodovico.  Lod. 
He sir.  jag. 
I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by villains.  Grat. 
Cassio.  jag. 
How is it brother?  Cas. 
My leg is cut in two.  jag. 
Marry heaven forbidden:  
Light Gentlemen, I'll bind it with my shirt.  Enter Bianca. Bian. 
What is the matter ho, who is't that cried?  jag. 
Who is't that cried.  Bian. 
O my dear Cassio, O my sweet Cassio, Cassio, Cassio.  jag. 
O notable strumpet: Cassio may you suspect  
Who they should be, that thus have mangled you?  Cas. 
No.  Gra. 
I am sorry to find you thus, I have been to seek you.  Bian. 
Alas he faints, O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio.  jag. 
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash  
To bear a part in this: patience a while good Cass●●:  
Lend me a light; know we this face, or no?  
Alas my friend, and my dear country man:  
Roderigo? no, yes sure: O heaven Roderigo.  Gra. 
What of Venice?  jag. 
Even he sir, did you know him?  Gra. 
Know him? I.  jag. 
Signior Gratiano, I cry you gentle pardon:  
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,  
That so neglected you.  Gra. 
I am glad to see you.  jag. 
How do you Cassio? O a chair, a chair.  Gra. 
Roderigo.  jag. 
He, 'tis he: O that's well said, a chair:  
Some good man bear him carefully from hence,  
I'll fetch the General's Surgeon: for you mistress,  
Save you your labour, he that lies slain here Cassio,  
Was my dear friend, what malice was betwixt you?  Cas. 
None in the world, nor do I know the man.  jag. 
What, look you pale? O bear him out o'th' air.  
Stay you good Gentlewoman, look you pale mistress?  
Do you perceive the ieastures of her eye,  
Nay, an you stir, we shall have more anon:  
Behold her well I pray you, look upon her,  
Do you see Gentlemen? Nay guiltiness  
Will speak, though tongues were out of use.  Enter Em. Em. 
Alas what's the matter? what's the matter husband?  jag. 
Cassio has here been set on in the dark,  
By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scaped,  
he's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.  Em. 
Alas good gentleman, alas good Cassio.  jag. 
This is the fruit of whoring, pray Emillia,  
Go know of Cassio, where he supped to night:  
What, do you shake at that?  Bian. 
He supped at my house, but I therefore shake not.  jag. 
O did he so, I charge you go with me.  Em. 
Fie, fie upon thee strumpet.  Bian. 
I am no strumpet, but of life as honest,  
As you, that thus abuse me.  Em. 
As I ●●ough, fie upon thee.  jag. 
Kind Gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio drest●  
Come mistress, you must tell's another tale.  
Emillia, run you to the Citadel,  
And tell my Lord and Lady what has happed:  
Will you go on, I pray, this is the night,  
That either marks me, or foredoes me quite.  Ex●●nt. Enter Othello with a light. Oth. 
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,  
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars:  
It is the cause yet I'll not shed her blood,  
Nor scare that whiter skin of hers, than snow,  
And smooth, as monumental Alabaster;  
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men,  
Put out the light, and then put out the light:  
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,  
I can again, thy former light restore,  
Should I repent me; but once put out thine,  
Thou cunning pattern of excelling nature,  
I know not where is that promethian heat,  
That can thy light return: when I have plucked the rose,  
I cannot give it vital growth again,  
It must needs whither; I'll smell it on the tree,  
A balmy breath, that doth almost persuade  
justice herself to break her sword once more,  
Be thus, when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,  
And love thee after: once more, and this the last,  He kisses her. 
So sweet was ne'er so fatal: I must weep,  
But they are cruel tears; this sorrows heavenly,  
It strikes when it does love: she wakes.  Des. 
Who's there, Othello?  Oth. 
I, Desdemona.  Des. 
Will you come to bed my Lord?  Oth. 
Have you prayed to night, Desdemona?  Des. 
I my Lord:  Oth. 
If you bethink yourself of any crime,  
Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,  
Solicit for it straight.  Des. 
Alas my Lord, what may you mean by that?  Oth. 
Well do it, and be brief, I will walk by,  
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit,  
No, ●eauen forefend, I would not kill thy soul.  Des. 
Talk you of killing?  Oth. 
I, I do.  Des. 
Then heaven have mercy on me.  Oth. 
Amen, with all my heart.  Des. 
If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.  Oth. 
Hum.  Des. 
And yet I fear you, for you are fatal then,  
When your eyes roll so: why I should fear, I know not,  
Since guiltiness I know not, but yet I feel I fear.  Oth. 
Think on thy sins.  Des. 
They are love's I bear to you.  Oth. 
And for that thou diest.  Des. 
That death's unnatural, that kills for loving,  
Alas, why gnaw you so your neither lip?  
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame,  
These are portents: but yet I hope  
They do not point on me.  Oth. 
Peace, and be still.  Des. 
I will, so, what's the matter?  Oth. 
That handkerchief which I so loved, and gave thee,  
Thou gavest to Cassio.  Des. 
No, by my life and soul,  
Send for the man and ask him.  Oth. 
Sweet soul take heed, take heed of perjury,  
Thou art on thy deathbed.  Des. 
I, but not yet to die.  Oth. 
Yes, presently:  
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin,  
For to deny each article with oath,  
Cannot remove, nor choke the strong conc●●t,  
That I do groan withal: thou art to die.  Des. 
Then Lord have mercy on me.  Oth. 
I say Amen.  Des. 
And have you mercy too:  
I never did offend you in my life,— never loved Cassio,  
But with such general warranty of heaven,  
As I might love: I never gave him token.  Oth. 
By heaven I saw my handkerchief in his hand,  
O perjured woman, thou dost stone thy heart,  
And makest me call, what I intent to do,  
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice,  
I saw the handkerchief.  Des. 
He found it then,  
I never gave it him, send for him hither,  
And let him confess a truth.  Oth. 
He has confessed.  Des. 
What, my Lord?  Oth. 
That he hath— uds death.  Des. 
How, unlawfully?  Oth. 
I.  Des. 
He will not say so.  Oth. 
No, his mouth is stopped,  
Honest jago hath ta'en order for't.  Des. 
My fear interprets then,— what is he dead?  Oth. 
Had all his hairs been lives,  
My great revenge had stomach for 'em all.  Des. 
Alas he is betrayed, and I undone.  Oth. 
O strumpet,— weepest thou for him to my face?  Des. 
O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not.  Oth. 
Down strumpet.  Des. 
Kill me to morrow, let me live to night.  Oth. 
Nay, an you strive.  Des. 
But half an hour, but while I say one prayer.  Oth. 
'tis too late.  he stiffness her. Des. 
O Lord, Lord, Lord.  Emillia calls within. Em. 
My Lord, my Lord, what ho, my Lord, my Lord.  Oth. 
What voyce is this? not dead? not yet quite dead?  
I that am cruel, am yet merciful,  
I would not have thee linger in thy pain,— so, so.  Em. 
What ho, my Lord, my Lord.  Oth. 
Who's there?  Em. 
O good my Lord, I'd speak a word with you.  Oth. 
Yes, 'tis Emillia, by and by: she's dead:  
'tis like she comes to speak of Cassios' death;  
The noise was here; ha', no more moving,  
Still as the grave: shall she come in? were't good?  
I think she stirs again; no, what's the best?  
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife.  
My wife, my wife, my wife; I ha' no wife;  
O insupportable: O heavy hour.  
Me thinks it should be now a huge Eclipse  
Of Sun and Moon, and that the affrighted Globe,  
Should yawn at alteration.  Em. 
I do beseech you I may speak with you,- good my Lord.  Oth. 
I had forgot thee: O come in Emillia.  
Soft, by and by; let me the Curtains draw,  Ent. Emil. 
Where art thou? what's the matter with thee now?  Em. 
O ●y good Lord, yonder's foul murders done.  Oth. 
What, now?  Em. 
But now my Lord.  Oth. 
It is the very error of the Moon,  
She comes more near the earth, than she was wont,  
And makes men mad.  Em. 
Cassio my Lord has killed a young Venetian,  
Called Roderigo.  Oth. 
Roderigo killed, and Cassio killed?  Em. 
No, Cassio is not killed.  Oth. 
Not Cassio killed, then murders out of tune,  
And sweet revenge grows harsh.  Des. 
O falsely, falsely murdered.  Em. 
O Lord, what cry is that?  Oth. 
That? what?  Em. 
Out and alas, it is my Lady's voy●●▪  
Help, help, ho help, O Lady speak again,  
Sweet Desdemona, O sweet Mistress speak.  Des. 
A guiltless death I die.  Em. 
O who has done this deed?  Des. 
No body, I myself, farewell:  
Commend me to my kind Lord, O farewell.  she dies. Oth. 
Why, how should she be murdered?  Em. 
Alas, who knows?  Oth. 
You heard her say, herself, it was not I.  Em. 
She said so, I must needs report a truth.  Oth. 
She's like a liar, gone to burning Hell,  
●T was I that killed her.  Em. 
O, the more Angel she,  
And you the blacker devil.  Oth. 
She turned to folly, and she was a whore.  Em. 
Thou dost belly her, and thou art a devil.  Oth. 
She was false as water.  Em. 
Thou as rash as fire,  
To say that she was false: O she was heavenly true.  Oth. 
Cassio did top her, ask thy husband else,  
O I were damned beneath all depth in hell,  
But that I did proceed, upon just grounds,  
To this extremity, thy husband knew it all.  Em. 
My husband?  Oth. 
Thy husband.  Em. 
That she was false to wedlock?  Oth. 
I, with Cassio: nay, had she been true,  
If heaven would make me such another world,  
Of one entire and perfect Crisolite,  
I'd not have sold her for it.  Em. 
My husband?  Oth. 
I, 'twas he that told me first,  
An honest man he is, and hates the slime,  
That sticks on filthy deeds.  Em. 
My husband?  Oth. 
What needs this iteration? woman, I say thy husband.  Em. 
If he say so, may his pernicious soul.  
Rot half a grain a day: he lies toth' heart,  
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.  Oth. 
Ha'?  Em. 
Do thy worst,  
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven,  
Than thou wast worthy her.  Oth. 
Peace, you were best.  Em. 
Thou hast not half the power to do me harm,  
As I have to be hurt: O gull, O dolt,  
As ignorant as dirtt; thou hast done a deed—  
I care not for thy sword, I'll make thee know,  
Tho I lost twenty lives: help, help, O help;  
The Moor has killed my Mistress, murder, murder.  Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others. Mon. 
What is the matter? how now General?  Em. 
O, are you come jago? you have done well,  
That men must lay their murder on your neck.  All. 
What is the matter?  Em. 
Disprove this villa me, if thou be'st a man;  
He says thou toldst him that his wife was false,  
I know thou didst not, thou art not such a villain:  
Speak, for my heart is full.  jag. 
I told him what I thought, and told no more,  
Than what he found himself was apt and true.  Em. 
But did you ever tell him she was false?  jag. 
I did.  Em. 
You told a lie, an odious damned lie;  
Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie:  
She false with Cassio; did you say with Cassio?  jag. 
With Cassio mistrefle; go to, charm you tongue.  Em. 
I will not charm my tongue, I am bound to speak.  jag. 
What are you mad, I charge you get you home.  Em. 
Good Gentlemen let me have leave to speak,  
'tis proper I obey him, but not now:  
Perchance jago, I will ne'er go home.  Oth. 
Oh, oh, oh.  Oth. falls on the bed. Em. 
Nay, lay thee down, and roar,  
For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent,  
That ere did lift up eye.  Oth. 
O she was foul:  
I scarce did know you Uncle, there lies your Niece,  
Whose breath indeed, these hands have newly stopped,  
I know this act shows terrible and grim.  Gra. 
Poor Desdemona, I am glad thy father's dead,  
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief,  
Shore his old thread at wane: did he live now,  
This sight would make him do a desperate turn,  
Yea curse his better Angel from his side,  
And fall to reprobation.  Oth. 
'tis pitiful, but yet jago knows,  
That she with Cassio, hath the act of shame  
A thousand times committed; Cassio confessed it,  
And she did gratify his amorous works,  
With the recognizance and pledge of love,  
Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand,  
It was a handkerchief; an Antique token  
My father gave my mother.  Em. 
O God, O heavenly God.  jag. 
Zouns, hold your peace.  Em. 
'Twill out, 'twill: I hold my peace sir, no,  
I'll be in speaking, liberal as the air,  
Let heaven, and men, and devils, let 'em all.  
All, all cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.  jag. 
Be wise, and get you home.  Em. 
I will not.  Gra. 
Fie, your sword upon a woman?  Em. 
O thou dull Moor, that handkerchief thou speakst on,  
I found by fortune, and did give my husband:  
For often with a solemn earnestness,  
More than indeed belonged to such a trifle,  
He begged of me to steal it.  jag. 
Villainous whore.  Em. 
She gave it Cassio? no alas I found it,  
And I did giv't my husband.  jag. 
Filth thou liest.  Em. 
By heaven I do not, I do not Gentlemen,  
O murderous Coxcomb! what should such a fool  
Do with so good a woman?  The Moor runs at jago. jago kills his wife. Oth. 
Are there no stones in heaven,  
But what serves for the thunder? precious villain.  Gra. 
The woman falls, sure he has killed his wife.  Em. 
I, I, O lay me by my mistress side.  Exit jago. Gra. 
he's gone, but his wife's killed.  Mon. 
'tis a notorious villain, take your weapon,  
Which I have here recovered from the Moor:  
Come, guard the door without, let him not pass,  
But kill him rather, I'll after that same villain,  
For 'tis a damned slave.  Exit Mont. and Gratiano. Oth. 
I am not valiant neither,  
But every puny whipster gets my sword,  
But why should honour out live honesty?  
Let it go all.  Em. 
Moor, she was chaste, she loved thee cruel Moor,  
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;  
So speaking as I think, I die, I die.  she dies. Oth. 
I have another weapon in this chamber,  
It is a sword of Spain, the Ice brooks temper;  
O here it is; Uncle I must come forth.  Gra, within. Gra. 
If thou attempt it, it will cost thee decree,  
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.  Oth. 
Look in upon me then, and speak to me,  
Or naked as I am, I will assault thee.  Gra. 
What is the matter?  Oth. 
Behold, I have a weapon,  
A better never did itself sustain  
Upon a Soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,  
That with this little arm, and this good sword,  
I have made my way through more impediments,  
Then twenty times you stop: but O vain boast,  
Who can control his Fate? 'tis not so now,  
Pale as thy smo●ke, when we shall meet at count,  
This look of thine, will hurl my soul from heaven,  
And fiends will snatch at it: cold, cold my girl,  
Even like thy chastity; O cursed slave:  
Whip me you Devils,  
From the possession of this heavenly sight,  
Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur,  
Wash me in sleepe down gulfs of liquid fire:  
O Desdemona, Desdemova, dead, O, o, o.  Enter Lodovico, Montano, Iago, and Officers, Cassio in a Chair. Lod. 
Where is this rash and most infortunate man.  Oth. 
Tha●'s he that was Othello, here I am.  Lod. 
Where is this Viper, bring the villain forth.  Oth. 
I looke down towards his feet, but that's a fable  
If thou beest a devil, I cannot kill thee.  Lod. 
Wring his sword from him.  jag. 
I bleed sir, but not killed.  Oth. 
I am not sorry neither, I'd have thee live,  
For in my sense 'tis happiness to die.  Lod. 
O thou Othello, that wert once so good,  
Fallen in the practice of a damned slave,  
What should be said to thee?  Oth. 
Why any thing,  
An honourable murderer if you will:  
For nought did I in hate, but all in honour.  Lod. 
This wretch hath part confessed his villainy:  
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?  Oth. 
I.  Cas. 
Dear General, I did never give you cause.  Oth. 
I do believe it, and I ask you pardon,  
Will you ●●ay, d●●●and that demi devil,  
Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?  jag. 
Demand me nothing, what you know you know,  
From this time forth I never will speak word.  Lod. 
What not to pray?  Grat. 
Torments will op'e your lips.  Oth. 
Well, thou dost best.  Lod. 
Sir, you shall understand what hath befalue,  
Which, as I think you know not: here is a letter,  
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;  
And here another; the one of them imports  
The death of Cassio; to be undertook— by Roderigo.  Oth. 
O villain.  Cas. 
Most heathenish, and most gross.  Lod. 
Now here's another discontented paper,  
Found in his pocket too, and this it seems,  
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain,  
But that belike, jago, in the nick  
Came in, and satisfied him.  Oth. 
O the pernicious catieffe!  
How came you Cassio by a handkerchief,  
That was my wives?  Cas. 
I found it in my chamber,  
And he himself confessed it even now,  
That there he dropped it, for a special purpose;  
Which wrought to his desire.  Oth. 
O fool, fool, fool.  Cas. 
There is beside in Roderigo's letter  
How he upbraids jago, that he made him,  
B●●ue me upon the watch, whereon it came,  
That I was cast; and even but now he spoke,  
After long seeming dead, Iago, hurt him,  
Iago set him on.  Lod. 
You must forsake this room, and go with us,  
Your power and your command is taken off,  
And Cassio rules in Cypress: for this slave,  
If there be any cunning cruelty,  
That can torment him much, and hold him long,  
It shall be his: you shall close prisoner rest,  
Till that the nature of your fault be known  
To the Venetian State; come, bring him away.  Oth. 
Soft you, a word or two,  
I have done the State some service, and they know't;  
No more of that: I pray you in your letters,  
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,  
Speak of them as they are; nothing extenuate,  
Nor set down aught in malice, then must you speak,  
Of one that loved not wisely, but too well:  
Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought,  
Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand,  
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away.  
Richer than all his Tribe: of one whose subdued eyes,  
Albeit unused to the melting mood,  
Drops tears as fast as the Arabian trees,  
Their medicinal gum; set you down this,  
And say beside, that in Al●ppo once,  
Where a Malignant and a Turban Turk,  
Beat a Venetian, and traduced the State;  
I took b●'ch throat the circumcised dog,  
And smote him thus.  He stabs himself. Lod. 
O bloody period.  Gra. 
All that's spoke is marred.  Oth. 
I kissed thee ere I killed thee, no way but this,  
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.  He dies. Cas. 
This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon,  
For he was great of heart.  Lod. 
O Spartan dog,  
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the Sea,  
Look on the trag●cke lodging of this bed:  
This is thy work, the object poisons sight,  
Let it be hid: Gratiano, keep the house,  
And cease upon the fortunes of the Moor:  
For they succeed to you, to you Lord Governor,  
Remains the censure of this hellish villain,  
The time, the place, the torture: O enforce it,  
Myself will straight aboard, and to the State,  
This heavy act with heavy heart relate.  Exeunt omnes. 
FINIS.