OF THE U N I VERS ITY Of ILLI NOIS 82^.33 T5 1883. Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/macbeth00shak_7 Shakespeare, William Macbeth Contents Macbeth The merchant of Venice Much ado about nothing Othello Othello Othello Contis. Price 7 (l % MACBETH. — BY-- WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE , NEW VOXR, "W^rja. Xj. Allison d£? Bon. Tribune Building, i Site SCHOOL DICTIONARIES Che Useful (Nuttall’s Standard. Pronouncing) Dictionary of the English Lan- guage. By P. A. Nuttail. Contains nearly half as much as Webster's Una bridged. Cloth, $1.00; half Ru ssia, gilt top, $1.25. GlisoiVs American Pictorial Handy Lexicon. On the basis of Noah Webster’s C ounting House Dictionary. Over o0, 000 Words, Phrases and Idioms, and I 200 Engravings. Just issued. The most ami Perfect i^ncket Dictvmary ever published, including many meanings and words in common use o he found in no other Dictionary. Also useful Facts and Tables, Foreign Words and Phrases, a List of Mythological and Classical Names, United States Census of 1880, etc. By Wl. L. Allisojs. Royal, 32mo., 384 pp. Cloth, I 50 cents. A cheaper edition a + 30 cents. .die same, with additions, flexible cloth, red edges, 720 pp., 75 cents, cloth, 50c. Ihe same, with additions, morocco ticks, gilt edges, 720 pp., $1.00. Ihe Pocket Illustrated Pronouncing Dictionary, royal, 32mo. f 320 pp, 250 Illustra- tions, 20 cents. Dictionary of Synonyms of the English Language, 3G8 pp., demy 18mo., cloth, L lettered, 50 cents. li gent’s French- English and Engl. h-French Pronouncing Dictionary, 631 pp., r 10 mo., Sl.OO. William’s German-English and English-German Pronouncing Dictionary, $1.00- ► LIBRARY OF STANDARD AUTHORS. lakespeare, 3 vols., cloth, $1.80. Cloth, extra, $2.25. Half Russia, gilt top, $3.60. The principal plays in separate pamphlets, 10 cents each, lakespeare, 1 vol., 8vo., cloth, gilt, Arundel edition, $3.00. lakespeare, 1 vol., 8vo., liaJf calf, Arundel, $5.00. lakespeare’s Works, 1 vol., royal quarto, our ed., in press, 1008 pp., Illustrated Steel Portrait, and eight super o Wood Engravings, $3.00. akespeare’s Works, 1 vol., royal quarto, 111., full morocco, gilt, 1008 pp., $8.50. niniscenses of Thomas Carlyle, c oth, 40 cents. Half Russia, gilt top, 75c. roes, Hero Worship, and the Heroic in History. By Thomas Carlyle. Cloth, 30 cents. Half Russia, gilt top, 60 cents, gyle's French Revolution, cloth, >0 cents. Half Russia, gilt top, $1.00. raphla, Literaria. Biographical Sketches of my Literary Life and Opin- ions. By Samuel Taylor Coleridge. In small octavo, extra cloth, $1.00. Formerly published in 2 vols., at $4.00. In Press. ends of the Patriarchs an 1 Prophets. By S. Baring-Gould. Extra cloth, 50c. fote’s History of Greece, 4 vols., clo Hi, $2.40. « " " % Russia. 4.80. MACBETH. MACBETH DRAMATIS PERSONAE. Duncan, king of Scotland. Malcolm, r hit ,„ nri<5 Donalbain, f ms sons - Macbeth, l generals of the king’s Banquo, f army. Macduff, 1 Lennox Ross, I noblemen of Scot- Menteith, [ land. Angus, Caithness, J ' Fleance, son to Ban quo. Siward, Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces. Young Siward, his son. Seyton, an officer attending on Macbeth. Boy, son to Macduff. An English Doctor. A Scotch Doctor. A Soldier. A Porter. An old Man. Lady Macbeth Lady Macduff. Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth. Hecate. Three Witches: Apx>aritions. Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Sol- diers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers. Scene : Scotland : England . ACT I. Scene I. A desert place. Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches. First Witch. When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain? Sec. Witch. When the hurly burly’s done, When the battle’s lost and won. Third, Witch. That will be ere the set of sun. First Witch. Where the place? Sec. Witch . Upon the heath. Third Witch. There to meet with Macbeth. First Witch. I come, Gi^malkin! Sec. Witch. Paddock calls. Third Witch. Anon. All. Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air. ( 201 ) 10 [ Exeunt . 202 MACBETH. [act I. Scene II. A camp near Forres. Alarum within. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant. Dun . What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state. Mai. This is the sergeant Who like a good and hardy soldier fought ’Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend! Say to the king the knowledge of the broil As thou didst leave it. Ser. Doubtful it stood ; As two spent swimmers, that do cling together And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald — W ort.hy to be a rebel, for to that 10 The multiplying villanies of nature Do swarm upon him — from the western isles Of kerns and gallow^ glasses is supplied; And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, Sliow’d like a rebel’s whore: but all’s too weak: For brave Macbeth — well he deserves that name — Disdaining fortune, with his brandish’d steel, Which smoked with bloody execution, Like valour’s minion carved out his passage Till he faced the slave; 20 f And ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Till he unseam’d him from the nave to the chaps. And fix’d his head upon our battlements. Dun. O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! Ser. As whence the sun ’gins his reflection Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, So from that spring whence comfort seem’d to come Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark: No sooner justice had with valour arm’d Compell’d these skipping kerns to trust their heels, 30 But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage, With furbish’d arms and new supplies of men Began a fresh assault. Dun. Dismay’d not this Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? Ser. Yes; As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. If I say sooth, I must report they were As cannons overcharged with double cracks, so they Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe: SCENE III.] MACBETH. 203 Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, Or memorize another Golgotha, 40 I cannot tell. But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. Dan. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons. [Exit Sergeant , attended . Who comes here? Enter Ross. Mai. The worthy thane of Ross. Len. What a haste looks through his eyes ! So should he look That seems to speak things strange. Boss. God save the king ! Dun. Whence earnest thou, worthy thane? Boss. From Fife, great king; Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky And fan our people cold. Norway himself, 50 With terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal traitor The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict; Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapp’d in proof, Confronted him with self-comparisons^ Point against point rebellious, arm ’gainst arm, Curbing his lavish spirit* and, to conclude, The victory fell on us. Dan. Great happiness! Boss. That now Sweno, the Norways’ king, craves composition; Nor would we deign him burial of his men 60 Till he disbursed at Saint Colme’s inch Ten thousand dollars to our general use. Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth. Boss. I’ll see it done. Dan. What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won. [Exeunt. Scene III. A heath near Forres. Thunder. Enter the three Witches. First Witch. Where hast thou been, sister? Sec . Witch. Killing swine. Ihird Witch. Sister, where thou? First Witch. A sailor’s wife had chestnuts in her lap, MACBETH. 204 [ACT I. And munch’d, and munch’d, and munch'd: — “ Give me,” quoth I : ‘ Aroint thee, witch!” the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husband’s to Aleppo gone, master o’ the Tiger: But in a sieve I’ll thither sail, And, like a rat without a tail, I’ll do, I’ll do, and I’ll do. 10 Sec. Witch. I’ll give thee a wind. First Witch. Thou’rt kind. Third Witch. And I another. First Witch. I myself have all the other, And the very ports they blow, All the quarters that they know I’ the shipman’s card. I will drain him dry as hay: Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his pent-house lid; 20 He shall live a man forbid*: "Weary se’nnights nine times nine Shall he dwindle, peak and pine: Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost. Look what I have. Sec. Witch. Show me, show me. First Witch. Here I have a pilot’s thumb, Wreck’d as homeward he did come. [ Drum icithin. Third Witch. A. drum, a drum! 30 Macbeth doth come. All. The weird sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about: Thrice to thine and thrice to mine And thrice again, to make up nine. Peace! the charm’s wound up. Enter Macbeth and Banquo, Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. Ban. How fair is’t call’d to Forres? What are these Bo wither’d and so wild in their attire, 40 That look not like the inhabitants o’ the earth, And yet are on’t? Live you? or are you aught That man may question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her chappy finger laying Upon her skinny lips: you should be women. And } r et your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so. Macb. Speak, if you can: what are you? SCENE III.] MACBETH. 205 First Witch. All liail, Macbeth! bail to thee, thane of Glamis! Sec. Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor! Third Witch. All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king here- after! t 50 Ban. Good sir, why do you start ; and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair? I’ the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not. If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear 60 Your favours nor your hate. First Witch. Hail ! Sec. Witch. Hail! Third Witch. Hail! First Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. Sec. Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier. Third Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none: So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! First Witch. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! Macb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more: 70 By Sinel’s death I know I am thane of Glamis; But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman; and to be king Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say from wdience You owe this strange intelligence? or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. [ Witches vanish . Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanish’d? 80 Macb. Into the air; and what seem’d corporal melted As breath into the wind. Would they had stay’d! Ban. Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner? Macb. Your children shall be kings. Ban. You shall be king. Macb. And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so? Ban . To the selfsame tune and words. Who’s here? Enter Ross and Angus. 206 MACBETH. [ACT I. Boss. The king hath happily received, Macbeth, The news of thy success; and when he reads 90 Thy personal venture in the rebels’ tight, His wonders and his praises do contend Which should be thine or his: silenced with that, In viewing o’er the rest/)’ the selfsame day, He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, Strange images of death. As thick as hail Came post with post; and every one did bear Thy praises in his kingdom’s great defence, And pour’d them down before him. Ang. We are sent 100 To give thee from our royal master thanks; Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee. Boss. And, for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy thane! For it is thine. Ban. What, can the devil speak true? Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me In borrow’d robes? Ang. Who was the thane lives yet; But under heavy judgement bears that life 110 Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined With those of Norway, or did line the rebel With hidden help and vantage, or that with both He labour’d in his county’s wreck, I know not; But treasons capital, confess’d and proved, Have overthrown him. Macb. [Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cav'd or! The greatest is behind. [To Boss and Angus ] Thanks for your pains. [To Ban.] Do you not hope your children shall be kings, When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me Promised no less to them? Ban. That trusted home 120 Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the thane of Cawdor. But ’tis strange: And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s In deepest consequence. Cousins, a word, I pray you. Mach. [Aside] Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act SCENE IV.] MACBETH. 207 Of the imperial theme. — I thank you, gentlemen. [Aside] This supernatural soliciting 130 Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor: If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings- My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man that function 140 Is smother’d in surmise, and nothing is But what is not. Ban. Look, how our partner’s rapt. Macb. [Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me, Without my stir. Ban. New honours come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use. Macb. [Aside] Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. Macb. Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains 150 Are register’d where every day I turn The leaf to re^id them. Let us toward the king. Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time, The interim having weigh’d it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other. Ban. Very gladly. Macb. Till then, enough. Come," friends. [Exeunt. Scene IV. Forres. The palace. Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, and Attendants. Bun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return’d Mad. ' M} r liege, They are not yet come back. But I have spoke With one that saw him die: who did report That very frankly he confess’d his treasons, Implored your highness’ pardon and set forth A deep repentance : nothing in his life 208 MACBETH. [act I. Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As ’twere a careless trifle. Dun. There’s no art To find the mind’s construction in the face; He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust. Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Ross, and Angus. O worthiest cousin! The sin of my ingratitude even now Was heavy on me: thou art so far before That swiftest wing of recompense is slow To overtake thee. Would thou liadst less deserved, That the proportion both of thanks and payment Might have been mine! only I have left to say, More is thy due than more than all can pay. Macb. The service and. the loyalty I owe, In doing it, pa}^s itself. Your highness’ part Is to receive our duties; and our duties Are to your throne and state children and servants, Which do but what they should, by doing every thing Safe toward your love and honour. Dun. Welcome hither: I have begun to plant thee, and will labour To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserved, nor must be known No less to have done so, let me infold tliee And hold thee to my heart. Ban. There if I grow, The harvest is your own. Dun. My plenteous joys. Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves in drops of sorrow. Sans, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must Not unaccompanied invest him only, But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers. From hence to Inverness, And bind us further to you. Macb. The rest is labour, which is not used for you: I’ll be myself the harbinger and make joyful The hearing of my wife with your approach; Bo humbly take my leave. 10 20 80 40 SCENE V.] MACBETH. 209 Dun. My- worthy Cawdor! Mach. [Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step On which I must fall down, or else o’erleap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your tires; 50 Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. [Exit. Dun. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant, And in his commendations I am fed; It is a banquet to me. Let’s after him, Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt. Scene V. Inverness. Macbeth's castle. Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter. Lady M. ** They met me in the day of success: and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it,, came missives from the king, who all-hailed me ‘Thane of Cawdor;’ by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time, with ‘Hail, king that shalt be!’ This have I thought good to deliver thee, ray dearest partner of great- ness, that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.” Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without 20 The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou liolily, wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou’ldst have, great Glamis, That which cries “ Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone,” Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; And chastise with the valour of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem 30 To have thee crown’d withal. Enter a Messenger. 210 MACBETH. [act I. What is your tidings? Mess. The king comes here to-night. Lady M. Thou’rtmad to say it: Is not thy master with him? who, wer’t so, W ould have inform’d for preparation. Mess. So please you, it is true: our thane is coming: One of my -fellows had the speed of him, Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Than would make up his message. Lady M. * Give him tending; He brings great news. [ Exit Messenger. The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 40 Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood; Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances 50 You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry “Hold, hold!” Enter Macbeth. Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor! Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond Tins ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant. Macb. My dearest love, Duncan comes here to-night. Lady M. And when goes hence? 60 Macb. To-morrow, as he purposes. Lady M. O, never Shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under ’t. He that’s coming Must be provided for: and you shall put SCENE VI.] MACBETH. 211 This night’s great business into my dispatch; Which shall to all our nights and days to come 70 Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. Mach. We will speak further. LadyM. Only look up clear; To alter favour ever is to fear: Leave all the rest to me. [Exeunt. Scene VI. Before Macbeth's castle. Hautboys and torches. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donal- bain, Banquq, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angus, and Attendants. Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. Ban. This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle: Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate. Enter Lady Macbeth. Dun. See, see, our honour’d hostess! 10 The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you How you shall bid God ’ild us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble. Lady M. All our service In every point twice done and then done double Were poor and single business to contend Against those honours deep and broad wherewith Your majesty loads our house: for those of old, And the late dignities heap’d up to them, We rest your hermits. Dun. Where’s the thane of Cawdor? 20 We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose To be his purveyor: but he rides well; And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, We are vour guest to-night. Lodi) M. Your servants ever Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt, 212 MACBETH. [act I. To make their audit at your highness’ pleasure, Still to return your own. Dun. Give me your hand ; Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly, And shall continue our graces towards him. 30 By your leave, hostess. [ Exeunt . Scene YII. Macbeth's castle. Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service , and pass over the stage. Then enter Macbeth. Mach. If it were done when ’tis done, then ’t'were well It were done quickly: if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch ■With his surcease success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We’ld jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgement here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison’d chalice To our own lips. He’s here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host. Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off; * 20 And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubim, horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, hut only Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself And falls on the other. Enter Lady Macbeth. How now! what news? Lady M. He has almost supp’d : why have you left -the chamber? Mwcb. Hath he ask’d for me? SCENE VII.] MACBETH. 213 Lady M. Know you not he has? Macb. We will proceed no further in this business: He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which w'ould be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. Lady M. Was the hope drunk Wherein you dressed yourself? hath it slept since? And w r akes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem’s! the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting “I dare not” wait upon “ I would,” Like the poor cat i’ the adage? Macb. Prithee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none. Lady M. What beast was’t, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face. Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this. Macb. If we should fail? Lady M. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep — Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey Soundly invite him — his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt 30 40 50 60 70 214 MACBETH. [act il Of our great quell? Macb. Bring forth men-children only; For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be received, When we have mark’d with blood those sleepy two Of bis own chamber and used their very daggers, That they have done’t? Lady M. Who dares receive it other. As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death? Macb. I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. 80 Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know. [Exeunt. ACT II. Scene I. Court of Macbeth's castle. Enter Banquo, and Fleance bearing a torch before him. Ban. How goes the night, boy? Fie. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. Ban. And she goes down at twelve. Fie. I take’t, ’tis later, sir. Ban. Hold, take my sword. There’s husbandry in heaven ; Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose ! Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch. Give me my sword. Who’s there! 10 Macb. A friend. Ban. What, sir, not yet at rest? The king’s a-bed: He hath been in unusual pleasure, and Sent forth great largess to your offices. This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up In measureless content. Macb. Being unprepared, Our will became the servant to defect; Which else should free have wrought. Ban. All’s well. SCENE I.] MACBETH. 215 I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: 20 To you they have show’d some truth. Macb. I think not of them: Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, We would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time. Ban. At your kind’s! leisure. Macb. If you shall cleave to my consent, when ’tis, It shall make honour for you. Ban. So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, I shall be counsell’d. Macb. Good repose the while! Ban. Thanks, sir; the like to you! 30 [. Exeunt Banquo and Fleance. Macb. Go bid thy mistress, when my driuk is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. [Exit Servant . Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable 40 As this which now I draw. Thou marshall’st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other senses. Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still, And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood. Which was not so before. There’s no such thing: It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes. Now o’er the one-half world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 50 The curtain’d sleep; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate’s offerings, and wither’d murder, Alarum’d by his sentinel, f the wolf, Whose howl’s his watch, thus wflh his stealthy pace, With Tarquin’s ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk,, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives: 60 Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. [A bell rings . 216 MACBETH. [ACT II. I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven or to hell. [Exit. Scene II. The same. Eater Lady Macbeth. Lady M. That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quench’d them hath given me fire. Hark! Peace ! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern’st good-night. He is about it: The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg’d their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die. Mach. [ Within] Who’s there? what, ho! Lady M. Alack, I am afraid they have awaked, 10 And ’tis not done. The attempt and not the deed Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss ’em. Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done’t. Enter Macbeth. My husband! Mach. I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? Lady M. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak? Mach. When? Lady M. Now. Mach. As I descended? Lady M. Ay. Mach. Hark! Who lies i’ the second chamber? Lady M. Donalbain. 20 Mach. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his hands. Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. Mach. There’s one did laugh in’s sleep, and one cried ** Murder!” That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers, and address’d them Again to sleep. "Lady M. There are two lodged together. SCENE II.] MACBETIL 217 Mach. One cried “ God bless us!” and “Amen” the other; As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands. Listening their fear, I could not say “Amen,” When they did say “ God bless us!” Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. 30 Mach. But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”? I had most need of blessing, and “ Allien” Stuck in my throat. Lady M. These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. Mach. Methought I heard a voice cry “ Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep,” the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast, — Lady M. What do you mean? 40 Mach. Still it cried “ Sleep no more!” to all the house: “ Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.” Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them; and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. Mctcb, ' I’ll go no more: 50 I. am afraid to think what I have done; Look on’t again I dare not. Lady M. Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures: ’tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal; For it must seem their guilt. [ Exit Knocking within . Macb. Whence is that knocking? How is’t with me, when every noise appalls me? What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood 60 Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red. Re-enter Lady Macbeth. Lady M. My hands arc of your colour; but I shame 218 MACBETH. [act ii. To wear a heart so white. [. Knocking within .] I hear a knocking At the south entry: retire we to our chamber; A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it, then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended. [. Knocking within.'] Hark! more knocking. Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, 70 And show us to be watchers. Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. Macb. To know my deed, ’twere best not know myself. [Kn ocking w ith in. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst'. [Exeunt. Scene III. The same. Knocking within. Enter a Porter. Porter. Here’s a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the key. [Knock- ing within.] Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there, i’ the name of Beelzebub? Here’s a farmer, that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty: come in time; have napkins enow about you: here you’ll sweat for’t. [Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Who’s there, in the other devil’s name? Faith, here’s an equivocator, that could swear in both the scales against either scale; who committed trea- son enough for God’s sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come in, equivocator. [Knocking within.] Knock, knock, knock! Who’s there? Faith, here’s an English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose. [Knocking within.] Knock, knock; never at quiet! What are you? But this place is too cold for hell. I’ll devil- porter it no further: I had thought to have let in some of all professions that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire. [Knocking icithin.] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter. [Opens the gate. Enter Macduff and Lennox. Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, That you do lie so late? Port. ’Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock: and drink, sir. is a great provoker of three things. 29 Macd. What three things does drink especially provoke?' Port. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lech- ery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the SCENE III.] MACBETH. 219 desire, but it takes away the performance: therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him oil* ; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him. 40* Macd. I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. Port. That it did, sir, i’ the very throat on me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him. Macd. Is thy master stirring? Enter Macbeth. Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes. Len. Good morrow, noble sir. Macb. Good morrow, both. Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane? Macb. Not yet. 50 Macd. He did command me to call timely on him: I have almost slipp’d the hour. Macb. I’ll bring you to him. Macd. I know this is a joyful trouble to you; But yet ’tis one. Macb. The labour we delight in physics pain. This is the door. Macd. I’ll make so bold to call, For ’tis my limited service. [Exit. Len. Goes the king hence to-day? Macb. He does : he did appoint so. Len. The night has been unruly : where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say, 60 Lamentings heard i’ the air; strange screams of death, And prophesying with accents terrible Of dire combustion and confused events New hatch’d to the woeful time: the obscure bird Clamour’d the livelong night: some say, the earth Was feverous and did shake. Macb. ’Twas a rough night. Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. Re-enter Macduff. Macd. O horror, horror, horror! Cannot conceive nor name thee! Macb. ) Len. J Tongue nor heart What’s the matter \ 70 220 MACBETH. [ACT II. Macd. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord’s anointed temple, and stole thence The life o’ the building! Mach. What is’t you say? the life? Leu. Mean you his majesty? Macd. Approach the chamber, and destrojr your sight With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves. [. Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox. Awake, awake! Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason! Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! 80 Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit, And look on death itself! up, up, and see The great doom’s image! Malcolm! Banquo! As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites, To countenance this horror! Ring the bell. [Bell rings. Enter Lady Macbeth. Lady M. What’s the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? speak, speak! Macd. O gentle lady, % ’Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: The repetition, in a woman’s ear, 90 Would murder as it fell. Enter Banqijo. O Banquo, Banquo, Our royal master’s murder’d! Lady M. Woe, alas! What, in our house? Ban. Too cruel any where. Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself, And say it is not so. Re-enter Macbeth and Lennox, with Ross. Mach. Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant, There’s nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys: renown and grace is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees 100 Is left this vault to brag of. Enter Malcolm and Donalbain. Don. What is amiss? SCENE III.] MACBETH. 221 Mach. You are, and do not know’t: The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopp’d; the very source of it is stopp d. Macd. Your royal father’s murder’d. Mai O, by whom? Leri. Those of his chamber, as it seem’d, had done’t: Their hands and faces were all badged with blood; So were their daggers, which un wiped we found Upon their pillows: They stared, and were distracted; no man s life lid Was to be trusted with them. Maeb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them. * Macd. Wherefore did you so? Mach. Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral in a moment? No man: The expedition of my violent love Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan, His silver skin laced with his golden blood; And his gash’d stabs look'd like a breach in nature For ruin’s wasteful entrance: there, the murderers, 1*0 Steep’d in the colours of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breach’d with gore: who could ref lain, That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage to make’s love known? Lady M. Help me hence, hoi Macd. Look to the lady Mai. [Aside to Don.] Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? Don. [Aside to Mat.] What should be spoken here, where our fate, Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us? Let’s away ; Our tears are not yet brew’d. Mat. [Aside to Don.] Nor our strong sorrow Upon the foot of motion. Ban. Look to the lady: [ Lady Macbeth is carried out, , And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of work, To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us: In the great hand of God I stand; and thence Against the undivulged pretence I fight Of treasonous malice. Macd. And so do I. All. So all. y 222 MACBETH. [act II. Macb. Let’s briefly put on manly readiness, And meet i’ the hall together. All. Well contented. 140 [. Exeunt all but Malcolm and DonaTbain , Mai. What will you do? Let’s not consort with them: To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy. I’ll to England. Don. To Ireland, I; our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer: where we are, There’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near in blood, The nearer bloody. Mai. This murderous shaft that’s shot Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse; And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, 150 But shift away: there’s warrant in that theft Which steals itself, when there’s no mercy left. [Exeunt. Scene IY. Outside Macbeth's castle. Enter Ross and an old Man. Old M. Threescore and ten I can remember well: Within the volume of which time I have seen Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings. Ross. Ah, good father, Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man’s' act, Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, ’tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp: Is’t night’s predominance, or the day’s shame, That darkness does the face of earth entomb, When living light should kiss it? Old M. ’Tis unnatural, 10 Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday last, A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d. Ross. And Duncan’s horses — a thing most strange and certain — Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turn’d wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out. Contending ’gainst obedience, as they would make War with mankind. ' Old M. ’Tis said they eat each other. Ross. They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes That look’d upon’t. Here comes the good Macduff. 20 Enter Macduff. SCENE I.] MACBETH. 223 How goes the world, sir, now? Macd. Why, see you not? Boss. Is’t knowm who did this more than bloody deed? Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain. Boss. Alas, the day! What good could they pretend? Macd. They were suborn’d : Malcolm and Donalbain, the king’s two sons, Are stol’n away and fled; which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed. Boss. ’Gainst nature still! Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life’s means! Then ’tis most like The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. 30 Macd. He is already named, and gone to Scone To be invested. Boss. Where is Duncan’s body? Macd. Carried to Colmekill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, And guardian of their bones. Boss. Will you to Scone? Macd. No, cousin, I’ll to Fife. Boss. Well, I will thither. Macd. Well, may you see things well done there: adieu! Lest our old robes sit easier than our new ! Boss. Farewell, father. Old M. God’s benison go with you; and with those 40 That would make good of bad, and friends of foes ! [Exeunt. ACT III. Scene I. Forres. The palace. Enter Banquo. Ban. Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weird women promised, and, I fear, Thou play’dst most foully for’t: yet it was said It should not stand in thy posterity, But that myself should be the root and father Of many kings. If there come truth from them — As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine — Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well, And set me up in hope? But hush! no more. 10 Sennet sounded. Enter Macbeth, as king , Lady Macbeth, as queen, Lennox, Ross, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants. 224 MACBETH. [act in. Macb. Here’s our chief guest. Lady M. If he had been forgotten. It had been as a gap in our great feast, And all-thing unbecoming. Macb. To night we hold a solemn supper, sir, And I’ll request your presence. Ban. Let your highness Command upon me; to the which my duties Are with a most indissoluble tie For ever knit. Macb. Ride you this afternoon? Ban. Ay, my good lord. 20 Macb. We should hawe else desired your good advice. Which still hath been both grave and prosperous, In this day’s council; but we’ll take to-morrow. Is’t far you ride? Ban. As far, my lord, as will fill up the time ’Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better, I must become a borrower of the night For a dark hour or twain. Macb. Fail not our feast. Ban. My lord, I w T ill not. Macb. We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow’d 30 In England arid in Ireland, not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention: ‘but of that to-morrow, When therewithal we shall have cause of state Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu, Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? Ban. Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon’s. Macb. I wish your horses swift and sure of foot; And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell. [Exit Banquo. 40 Let every man be master of his time Till seven at night: to make society The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself Till supper-time alone: while then, God be with you! [Exeunt all but Macbeth, and an attendant . Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men Our pleasure? Atten. They are, my lord, without the palace gate. Macb. Bring them before us. [Exit Attendant. To be thus is nothing; But to be safely thus. — Our fears in Banquo Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature 50 Reigns that which would be fear’d: ’tis much he dares; And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, SCEXE I.] MACBETH. 225 He hath a wisdom that cloth guide his valour To act in safety. There is none but he Whose being I do fear: and, under him, My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said, Mark Antony’s was by Caesar. He chid the sisters When first they put the name of king upon me, And bade them speak to him: then prophet-like They hail’d him father to a line of kings: 60 Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, * Thence to be wrench’d with an unlineal hand, No son of mine succeeding. If t be so, For Ban qu-o’s issue have I filed my mind; For them the gracious Duncan have I murder’d; % Put rancours in the vessel of my peace Only for them; and mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man, To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! 70 Rather than so, come fate into the list, And champion me to the utterance! Who’s there? Re-enter Attendant, with tioo Murderers. Now go to the door, and stay there till we call. [ Exit Attendant. Was it not yesterday w r e spoke together? First Mur. It was, so please your highness. Macb . Well then, now Have you consider’d of my speeches? Know That it was he in the times past which held you So under fortune, which you thought had been Our innocent self: this I made good to you In our last conference, pass’d in probation with you, 80 How you were borne in hand, how cross’d, the instru- ments, Who wrought with them, and all things else that might To half a soul and to a notion crazed Say “ Thus did Banquo.” First Mur. You made it known to us. Macb. I did so, and went further, which is now Our point of second meeting. Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature That you can let this go? Are you so gospell’d To pray for this good man and for his issue, Whose heavy hand hath bow’d you to the grave 90 And beggar’d yours for ever? First Mur. We are men. my liege. Macb. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men; shak. in. — 8 226 MACBETH. [act III. As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are clept All by the name of dogs: the valued tile Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive Particular addition, from the bill 100 That writes them all alke: and so of men. Now, if you have a station in the file, Not i’ the worst rank of manhood, say’t; And I will put that business in your bosoms. Whose execution takes your enemy off, grapples you to the heart and love of us, Who wear our health but sickly in liis life. Which in his death were perfect. Sec. Mur. I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what 110 I do to spite the w 7 orld. First Mur. And I another So weary with disasters, tugg’d with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it, or be rid on’t. Mach. Both of you Know Banquo was your enemy. Both Mur. True, my lord. Macb. So is he mine; and in such bloody distance, That every minute of his being thrusts Against my near’st of life: and though I could With barefaced power sweep him from my sight And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, 120 For certain friends that are both his and mine, Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall Who I myself struck down; and thence it is, That I to your assistance do make love, Masking the business from the common eye For sundry weighty reasons. Sec. Mur. We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us. First Mur. Though our lives — Macb. Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most I will advise you where to plant } r ourselves; Acquaint you with the perfect spy o’ the time, 130 The moment on’t; for’t must be done to-night. And something from the palace; always thought SCENE II.] MACBETH. 227 That I require a clearness: and with him — To leave no rubs nor botches in the work — Fleance his son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me Than is his father’s, must embrace the fate Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart: I’ll come to you anon. Both Mur. We are resolved, my lord. Macb. I’ll call upon you straight: abide within. [. Exeunt Murderers . 140 It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul’s flight, If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. [Exit. Scene II. The palace. Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant. Lady M. Is Banquo gone from court? Serr. Ay, madam, but returns again to-night. Lady M. Say to the king, I would attend his leisure For a few words. Serv. Madam, I will. [Exit. Lady M Nought’s had, all’s spent, Where our desire is got without content: ’Tis safer to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. Enter Macbeth. How now, my lord ! why do you keep alone, Of sorriest fancies your companions making, Using those thoughts which should indeed have died 10 With them they think on? Things without all remedy Should be without regard: what’s done is done. Macb. We have scotched the snake, not kill’d it: She’ll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly: better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent- to peace, 20 Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison. Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further. 228 MACBETH. [act m. Lady M. Come on ; Gentle my lord, sleek o’er }mur rugged looks; Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night. Macb. So shall I, love; and so, I pra} r , be you: Let your remembrance apply to Banquo : 80 Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: f Unsafe the while, that we Must lave our honours in these flattering streams; And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are. Lady M. You must leave this. Macb. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know’st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. Lady M. But in them nature’s copy’s not eterne. Macb. There’s comfort yet; they are assailable; Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown 40 His cloister’d flight, ere to black Hecate’s summons The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note. Lady M. What’s to be done? Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow 50 Makes wflng to the rooky w ood : Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ; Yfhiles night’s black agents to their preys do rouse. Thou marvell’st at my words: but hold thee still : Things had begun make strong themselves by ill. So, prithee, go with me. [Exeunt. Scene III. A park near the palace. Enter three Murderers. First Mur. But who did bid thee join wflth us? Third Mur. Macbeth. Sec. Mur. He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our offices and vdiat w 7 e have to do To the direction just. First Mur. Then stand with us. The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day: Now spurs the lated traveller apace To gain the timely inn; and near approaches The subject of our watch. SCENE IY.] MACBETH. 229 ty Third Mur. Hark ! I hear horses. Ban. [ Within] Give us a light there, ho ! Sec. Mur. Then ’tis he: the rest That are within the note of expectation 10 Already are i’ the court. First Mur. His horses go about. Third Mur. Almost a mile: but he does usually. So all men do, from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk. Sec. Mur. A light, a light ! Enter Banquo, and Fleance with a torch. Third Mur. ’Tis he. First Mur. Stand to’t. Ban. It will be rain to-night. First Mur. Let it come down. {They set upon Banquo . Ban. O, treachery! ,Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! Thou mayst revenge. 'O slave! {Dies. Fleance escapes. Third Mur. Who did strike out the light? First Mur. Was’t not the way? Third Mur. There’s but one down; the son is fled. Sec. Mur. We have lost 20 Best half of our affair. First Mur. Well, let’s away, and say how much is done. {Exeunt. Scene IY. The same. Hall in the palace. A banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Boss, Lennox, Lords, and Attendants. Macb. You know your own degrees; sit down: at first And last the hearty welcome. Lords. Thanks to your majesty, Macb. Ourself will mingle with society, And play the humble host. Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time We will require her welcome. Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; For my heart speaks they are welcome. First Murderer appears at the door. Macb. See, they encounter thee with their hearts’ thanks. Both sides are even; here I’ll sit i’ the midst: 10 Be large in mirth; anon we’ll drink a measure The table round. {Approaching the door] There’s blood upon thy face. 230 MACBETH. [act nr. Mur. ’Tis Banquo’s then* Mach. ’Tis better thee without than he within. Is he dispatch’d? Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. Macb. Thou art the best o’ the cut-throats: yet he’s good That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it, Thou art the nonpareil. Mur. Most royal sir, Fleance is ’scaped. 20 Macb. Then comes my tit again: I had else been perfect, Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, As broad and general as the casing air: But now I am cabin’d, cribb’d, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo’s safe? Mur. Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides. With twenty trenched gashes on his head; The least a death to nature. Macb. Thanks for that : There the grow T n serpent lies; the worm that’s fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, 80 No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to-morrow We’ll hear, ourselves, again. [Exit Murderer. Lady M. My royal lord, You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold That is not often vouch’d, while ’tis a-making, ’Tis given with welcome: to feed v 7 ere best at home; From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; Meeting were bare without it. Macb. S’weet remembrancer! Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both ! Len. May’t please your highness sit. [ The Ghost of Banquo enters , and sits in Macbeth’s place. Macb. Here had we now our country’s honour roof’d, Were the graced person of our Banquo present; 41 Who may I rather challenge for unkindness Than pity for mischance! Boss. 9 His absence, sir, Lays blame upon his promise. Please’t your highness To grace us with your royal company. Macb. The table’s full. Len. Here is a place reserved, sir. Mach. Where? Len. Here, my good lord. What is’t that moves your highness? Macb. Which of you have done this? Lords. What, my good lord? SCENE IV.] MACBETH. 231 Mad). Thou canst not say I did it: never shake 50 Tliy gory locks at me. Boss. Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well, j Lad.y M. Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus. And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat; The fit is momentary; upon a thought He will again be well: if much you note him, You shall offend him and extend his passion: Feed, and regard him not. Arc you a man? Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appal the devil. Lady M. O proper stuff ! 60 This is the very painting of your fear: This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said. Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, ' Imposters to true fear, would well become A woman’s story at a winter’s fire, Authorized by her gran dam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all’s done, You look but cn a stool. _Macb. Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. 70 If charnel-houses and our graves must send Those that we bury back, our monuments Shall be the maws of kites. [Ghost vanishes. Lady M. What, quite unmanned in folly? Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. Lady M. Fie, for shame! Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i’ the olden time, Ere human statute purged the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform’d Too terrible for the ear ; the times have been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end; but now they rise again, 80 With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools’ this is more strange Than such a murder is. Lady M. My worthy lord, Your noble friends do lack you. Macb. I do forget. Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends; I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, love and health to all; Then I’ll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full. I drink to the general joy o’ the whole table. And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst. And all to all. 90 282 MACBETH. [act III. Lords . Our duties, and the pledge. Be -enter Ghost. Mach. Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with! Lady M. Think of this, good peers. But as a thing of custom: ’tis no other; Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. Macb. What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 100 The arm’d rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble: or be alive again, And dare me to the desert with thy sword; •[If trembling I inhabit then, protest me The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! Unreal mockery, hence! [ Ghost vanishes . Why, so: being gone, I am a man again. Pray you, sit still. Lady M. You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting, With most admired disorder. Macb. Can such things be, 110 And overcome us like a summer’s cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine is blanch’d with fear. Boss. What sights, my lord? Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse ; Question enrages him. At once, good night: Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once. Len. Good night; and better health 120 Attend his majesty! Lady M. A kind good night to all ! [ Exeunt all but Macbeth and Lady M 0 Macb. It will have blood ; the}^ say, blood will have blood: Stones have been known to move and trees to speak; Augurs and understood relations have By magot-pies arid choughs and rooks brought forth The secret’st man of blood. What is the night? Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is which. SCENE V.] MACBETH. 233 Macb. How say’st thou, that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding? Lady Did you send to him, sir? Macb. .1 hear it by the way; but I will send: 130 There’s not a one of them but in his house I keep a servant fee’d. I will to-morrow, And betimes I will, to the weird sisters: More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know, By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good, All causes shall give way: I am in blood Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er: Strange things I have in head, that will to hand; Which must be acted ere they may be scann’d. 140 Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. Macb. Come, we’ll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse Is the initiate fear that wants hard use: We are yet but young in deed. [ Exeunt . Scene Y. A Heath. Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate. First Witch . Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly. Hec. Have I not reason, beldams as you are, Saucy and overbold? How did you dare To trade and traffic with Macbeth In riddles and affairs of death ; And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never call’d to bear my part. Or show the glory of our art? And, which is worse, all you have done 10 Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now: get you gone, And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i’ the morning: thither he Will come to know his destiny: Your vessels and your spells provide. Your charms and every thing beside. I am for the air; this night I’ll spend 20 Unto a dismal and a fatal end: Great business must be wrought ere noon: Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vaporous drop profound ; 234 MACBETH. [act III. I’ll catch it ere it come to ground: And that distill’d by magic sleights Shall raise such artitical sprites As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion: He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear 30 His hopes ’bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals’ cliiefest enemy. [Music and a song within: ‘ £ Come away, come away, ” &c. Hark! I am call’d; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. . [Exit. First Witch. Come, let’s make haste; she’ll soon be back again. [Exeunt. Scene YI. Forres. The palace. Enter Lennox and another Lord. Len. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret further: only, I say, Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan. Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead: And the right-valiant Banquo walk’d too late; Whom, you may say, if ’t please you, Fleance kill’d, For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? damned fact! 10 How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight In pious rage the two delinquents tear, That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too; For ’twould have anger’d any heart alive To hear the men deny’t. So thgt, I say, He has borne all things well: and I do think That had he Duncan’s sons under his key — As, an’t please heaven, he shall not— they should And What ’twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. 20 But, peace! for from broad words and ’cause he fail’d His presence af the tyrant’s feast, I hear Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself? Lord. The son of Duncan, From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth. Lives in the English court, and is received Of the most pious Edward with such grace SCENE I.] MACBETH. 235 That the malevolence of fortune nothing Takes from his high respect: thither MaccTuff Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid 30 To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward: That, by the help of these — with Him above To ratify the work — we may again Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, Do faithful homage and receive free honours: All which we pine for now: and this report Hath so exasperate the king that he Prepares for some attempt of war. Len. Sent he to Macduff? Lord. He did: and with an absolute “ Sir, not I,” 40 The cloudy messenger turns me his back, And hums, as who should say “ You’ll rue the time That clogs me with this answer.” Len. And that well might Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel Fly to the court of England and unfold His message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country Under a hand accursed! Lord. I’ll send my prayers with him. [ Exeunt . ACT IY. Scene I. A cavern. In the middle, a "boiling cauldron . Thunder. Enter the three Witches. First Witch. Tlirice the b rinded cat hath mew’d. Sec. Witch. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. Third Witch. Harpier cries ’Tis time, J tis time. First Witch. Round about the cauldron go; In the poison’d entrails throw, f Toad, that under the cold stone Days and nights hast thirty-one Swelter’d venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot. All . Double, double toil and trouble; 10 Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. Sec. Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, 236 MACBETH. [ACT IV. Adder’s fork and blind- worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg and owlet’s wing. For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a liell-brotli boil and bubble. All. Double, double toil and trouble; 20 Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Third Witch . Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin’d salt-sea slmrk, Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse, Hose of Turk and Tartar’s lips, Finger of birth -strangled babe 80 Dit ch-del iver’d by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron, For the ingredients of our cauldron. All. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Sec. Witch. Cool it with a baboon’s blood, Then the charm is firm and good. Enter Hecate to the other three Witches. Hec. O, well done! I commend your pains; And every one shall share i’ the gains: 40 And now about the cauldron sing, Live elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in. [Music and a song: “ Black spirits,” &c. [. Hecate retires. Sec. Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this v r ay comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks! Enter Macbeth. Mach. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags! W T hat is’t you do? All. A deed without a name. Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess, 50 Howe’er you come to know it, answer me: Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches; though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down; SCENE I.] MACBETH. 237 Though castles topple on their warders’ heads; Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure Of nature’s germens tumble all together, Even till destruction sicken; answer me 60 To what I ask you. First Witch. Speak. Sec. Witch. Demand. } Third Witch. We’ll answer. First Witch. Say, if thou’dst rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our masters? Mach. Call ’em; let me see ’em. First Witch. Pour in sow’s blood, that hath eaten Her nine farrow; grease that’s sweaten From the murderer’s gibbet throw Into the flame. All. Come, high or low; Thyself and office deftly show! Thunder . First Apparition: an armed Head . Mach. Tell me, thou unknown power, — First Witch. He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou nought. 70 First App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Mac- duff; Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough. [Descends. Mach. Whate’er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; Thou hast harp’d my fear aright: but one word more, — First Witch. He will not be commanded: here’s another, More potent than the first. Thunder. Second Apparition: a bloody Child. Sec. App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Mach. Had I three ears, I’ld hear thee. Sec. App. Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman bom 80 Shall harm Macbeth. [Descends. Mach. Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee? But yet I’ll make assurance double sure, And take a bond of fate: thou shaft not live; That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, And sleep in spite of thunder. Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand. What is this 233 MACBETH. [act iy. That rises like the issue of a king, And wears upon his baby -brow the round And top of sovereignty? All. Listen, but speak not to’t. Third App. Be lion-mettled, proud ; and take no care 90 'Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquish’d be until Great Birnana wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him. [ Descends . Mach. That will never be: Who can impress the forest, bid the tree Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good! Bebellion’s head, rise never till the wood Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart 100 Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art Can tell so much: shall Banquo’s issue ever Reign in this kingdom? All. Seek to know no more. Mach. I will be satisfied: deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know. Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this? [Hautboys. First Witch. Show'! Sec. Witch. Show! Third Witch. Show! All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; 110 Come like shadows, so depart! A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand; Banquo s Ghost following. Mach. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo; down! Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair, Tliou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former. Filthy hags! Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes! What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom? Another yet! A seventh! I’ll see no more: And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass Which shows me many more; and some I see 120 That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry: Horrible sight! Now, I see, ’tis true; For the blood -bolter’d Banquo smiles upon me. And points at them for his. [Apparitions rnnish. What, is this so? First Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so : but why SCENE II.] MACBETH. 239 Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites, And show the best of our delights: I’ll charm the air to give a sound, While you perform your antic round; 130 That this great king may kindly say, Our duties did his welcome pay. [Music. The Witches dance , and then vanish, with Hecate . Macb. Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursed in the calendar! Come in, without there! Enter Lennox. Len. What’s your grace’s will? Macb. Saw you the weird sisters? Len. No, my lord. Macb. Came they not by you? Len. ~ No, indeed, my lord. Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride; And damn’d all those that trust them! I did hear The galloping of horse: who was’t came by? 140 Len. Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word Macduff is fled to England. Macb. Fled to England! Len. Ay, my good lord. Macb. Time', thou anticipatest my dread exploits: The flighty purpose never is o’ertook Unless the deed go with it; from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall ]oe The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: The castle of Macduff I will surprise; 150 Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o’ the sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; This deed I’ll do before this purpose cool. But no more sights! — Y^here are these gentlemen? Come, bring me where they are. [ Exeunt . Scene II. Fife. Macduff 's castle . Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Boss. L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land? Ross. You must have patience, madam. L. Macd. He had none; His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. 240 MACBETH. [act iy. Boss. You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion and his titles in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren. The most diminutive of birds, will fight, 10 Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. All is the fear and nothing is the love: As little is the wisdom, where the flight So runs against all reason. Boss . My dearest coz, I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows The fits o’ the season. I dare not speak much further; But cruel are the times, when we are traitors And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, 20 But float upon a wild and violent sea Each way and move. I take my leave of you: Shall not be long but I’ll be here again: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward To what they were before. My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you ! L. Macd. Father’d he is, and yet he’s fatherless. Boss. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort: I take my leave at once. [Exit. L. Macd. Sirrah, your father’s dead: 30 And what will you do now? How will you live? Son. As birds do, mother. L. Macd. What, with worms and flies? Son. With what I get, I mean ; and so do they. L. Macd. Poor bird ! thou’ldst never fear the net nor lime, The pitfall nor the gin. Son. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying. L. Maccl. Yes, he is dead : how wilt thou do for a father? Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband? L. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. [ Son. Then you’ll buy ’em to sell again. 41 ; L. Macd. Thou speak’st with alf thy wit; and yet, i’ faith, With wit enough for thee. Son. Was my father a traitor, mother? SCENE II.] MACBETH. 241 L. Macd. Ay, that he was. Son. What is a traitor? L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies. Son. And be all traitors that do so? L. Macd. Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged. 50 Son. And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? L. Macd. Every one. Son. Who must hang them? L. Macd. Why, the honest men. Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them. L. Macd. How, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? 60 Son. If he were dead, you’ld weep for him : if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. L. Macd. Poor prattler, how thou talk’st! Enter a Messenger. Mess. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect. I doubt some danger does approach you nearly: If you will take a homely man’s advice, Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. To frighten you thus, methinks, I am too savage; 70 To do worse to you were fell cruel tj^, Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! I dare abide no longer. [Exit L. Macd. Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now I am in this earthly world; where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas, Do I put up that womanly defence, To say I have done no harm? Enter Murderers. What are these faces? • First Mur. Where is your husband? 80 L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him. First Mur. He’s a traitor. Son. Thou best, thou shag-liair’d villain! First Mur. What; you egg! [Stabbing him. Young fry of treachery! 242 MACBETH. [act iy. Son. He lias kill’d me, mother: Run away, I pray you ! [ Dies. [Exit Lady Macduff, crying “ Murder ! ” Exeunt Mur- derers, following her. Scene III. England. Before the King's. palace. Enter Malcolm and Macduff. Mai. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep out our sad bosoms empty. Macd. Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men Bestride our down-fall’n birthdom- each new morn New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows Strike heaven on thje face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland and yell’d out Like syllable of dolour. Mai. What I believe I’ll wail. What know believe, and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I will. 10 What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: you have loved him well. He hath not touch’d you yet. I am young; but something You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a w 7 eak poor innocent lamb To appease an angry god. Macd. I am not treacherous. Mai. But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon; 20 That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose: Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell: Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so. Macd. I have lost my hopes. Mai. Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left you wife and child, Those precious motives, those strong knots of love, Without leave-taking? I pray you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, 30 Whatever I shall think. Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dare not check thee; wear thou thy wrongs; SCENE III.] MACBETH, 243 The title is affeer’dl Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain that thou think’st For the whole space that’s in the tyrant’s grasp. And the rich East to boot. Mol. Be not offended: I speak not as in absolute fear of you. I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds: I think withal There would be hands uplifted in my right; And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands: but, for all this. When I shall tread upon the tyrant’s head, Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it had before, More suffer and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed. Macd , What should he be? Mai. It is myself I mean : in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted That, when they shall be open’d, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor' state Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms. Macd. Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn’d In evils to top Macbeth. Mai. I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name : but there’s no bottom, none, In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters, * Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up The cistern of my lust, and my desire All continent impediments would o’erbear That did oppose my will : better Macbeth Than such an one to reign. Macd. Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny; it hath been The untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings. But fear not yet To take upon you what is yours: you may Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink. We have willing dames enough; there cannot be That vulture in you, to devour so many As will to greatness dedicate themselves. 40 50 60 70 244 MACBETH, [act iy. Finding it so inclined. Mai. With this there grows In my most ill-composed affection such A stanchless avarice that, were I king, I should cut off the nobles for their lands, Desire his jew T els and this other’s house; And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more ; that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth. Macd. This avarice Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear; Scotland hath foisons to till up } r our will. Of your mere own: all these are portable, With other graces weigh’d. Mai. But I have none : the king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them, but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting it many waj^s. Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. Macd. O Scotland, Scotland! Mai. If such a one be fit to govern, speak : I am as I have spoken. Macd. Fit to govern! No, not to live, O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter’d, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accursed, And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee, Oftener upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! These evils thou repeat’st upon thyself Have banish’d me from Scotland. O my breast, Thy hope ends here ! Mai. Macduff, this noble passion. Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth 80 90 100 110 SCENE III.] MACBETH. 245 By many of these trains, hath sought to win me Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me From over-credulous haste > hut God above 126 Deal between thee and me! for even now I put myself to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure The taints and blames 1 laid upon myself, For strangers to my nature. 1 am yet Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, At no time broke my faith, would not betray The devil to his fellow and delight No less in truth than life: my first false speaking 130 Was this upon myself: what I am truly, Is thine and my poor country’s to command: Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men, Already at a point, was setting forth. Now we’ll together; and the chance of goodness Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? Mac\. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once ’Tis hard to reconcile. Enter a Doctor. Mai. Well; more anon. — Comes the king forth, I pray you ? 140 Doct. Ay, sir ; there are a crew of wretched souls That stay liis, cure: their malady convinces The great assay of art ; but at his touch — Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand — They presently amend. Mai. I thank you, doctor. [Exit Doctor. Macd. What’s the disease lie means? Mai. ’Tis call’d the evil: A most miraculous work in this good king; Which often, since my here-remain in England, I have seen him do. How lie solicits heaven, Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people, 150 All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stamp about their necks. Put on with holy prayers: and ’tis spoken. To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction. With this strange virtue. He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy. And sundry blessings hang about his throne. That speak him full of grace. 246 MACBETH. [act it. Enter Boss. Macd . See, who comes here? Mai. My countryman; but yet I know him not. 160 Maccl. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. Mol. I know him now. Good God, betimes remove The means that makes us strangers! Boss. Sir, amen. Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Boss. Alas, poor country! Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot Be call’d our mother, but our grave; where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air Are made, not mark’d; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy: the dead man’s knell ' 170 Is there scarce ask’d for who; and good men’s lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, D ying or ere they sicken. Macd. O, relation Too nice, and yet too true! Mai. What’s the newest grief? Boss. That of an hour’s age doth hiss the speaker: Each minute teems a new one. Macd. How does my wife? Boss. Why, well. Macd . And all my children? Boss. Well too. Macd. The tyrant has not batter’d at their peace? Boss. No; they were well at peace when I did leave ’em. Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech: how goes’t? 180 Boss. When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many w r ortliy fellows that were out; Which was to my belief witness’d the rather, For that I saw the tyrant’s power a-foot: Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women light, To doff tlreir dire distresses. Mai. Be’t their comfort We are coming thither: gracious England hath Lent us good Si ward and ten thousand men; 190 An older and a better soldier none That Christendom gives out. Boss. Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words That would be howl’d out iu the desert air. SCENE III.] MACBETH. 247 Where hearing should not latch them. Macd. What concern they? The general cause? or is it a fee-grief Due to some single breast? Boss. HSTo mind that’s honest But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. Macd. If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 200 Boss. Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard. Macd. Hum ! I guess at it. Boss. Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes Savagely slaughter’d: to relate the manner, Were, on the quarry of these murder’d deer, To add the death of you. Mat. Merciful heaven ! What, man! ne’er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break. 210 Macd. My children too? Boss. Wife, children, servants, all That could be found. Macd. And I must be from thence ! My wife kill’d too? Boss. I have said. Mai. Be comforted : Let’s make us medicines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Macd. He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop? Mai. Dispute it like a man. Macd. I shall do so; 220 But I must also feel it as a man : I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now! Mai. Be this the whetstone of your sword; let grief Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes 230 And braggart with my tongue ! But, gentle heavens, 248 MACBETH. [act y. Cut short all intermission; front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; Within my sword’s length set him; if he ’scape. Heaven forgive him too ! Mai. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may: The night is long that never finds the day. [Exeunt. 240 ACT Y. Scene I. Bunsinane. Ante-room in the castle. Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting Gentlewoman. Boct. I have two nights watched with you, but can per- ceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked? Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon’t, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. 9 Boct. A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what, at any time,' have you heard her say? Gent. Tlfat, sir, which I will not report after her. Boct. You may to me: and ’tis most meet you should. Gent. Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech. 21 Enter Lady Macbeth, with a taper. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise ; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. Boct. How came she by that light? Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her con- tinually; ’tis her command. Boct. You see, her eyes are open. Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. Boct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. 81 Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands: I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. SCENE I.] MACBETH. 249 Lady M. Yet here’s a spot. Doct. Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, Isay! — One: two: why, then ’tis time to do’t. — Hell is murky! — Fie, my lord, he! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? — Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him. Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now? — What, will these hands ne’er be clean? — No more o’ that, my lord, no more o’ that: you mar all with this starting. 50 Doct. Go to, go to ; you have known what you should not. Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: heaven knows what she has known. Lady M. Here’s the smell of the blood still: all the per- fumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! Doct. What, a sigh is there ! The heart is sorely charged. Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well, — Gent. Pray God it be, sir. Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds. Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown ; look not so pale. — I tell you yet again, Banquo’s buried; he can- not come out on’s grave. 71 Doct. Even so? Lady M. To bed, to bed! there’s knocking at the gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What’s done cannot be undone. — To bed, to bed, to bed! [Exit. Doct. Will she go now to bed? \ Gent. Directly. Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds 80 To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets: More needs she the divine than the physician. God, God forgive us all! Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her. Bo, good night: My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight. I think, but dare not speak. Gent . Good night, good doctor. [Exeunt. 250 MACBETH. [act v. Scene II. The country near Dunsinane. Drum and colours. Enter Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, and Soldiers. Merit. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward and the good Macduff: Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm Excite the mortified man. I Ang. Near Birnam wood Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. Caith. Who know r s if Donalbain be with his brother? Len. For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file Of all the gefntry: there is Si ward’s son, And many unrougli youths that even now 10 Protest their first of manhood. Ment. What does the t}want? Caith. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: Some say lie’s mad ; others that lesser hate him Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper’d cause Within the belt of rule. Ang. Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands; Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love: now does he feel his title 20 Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe Upon a dwarfish thief. Merit. Who then shall blame His pester’d senses to recoil and start, When all that is within him does condemn Itself for being there? Caith. " Well, march we on, To give obedience where ’tis truly owed: Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, And with him pour we in our country’s purge Each drop of us. Len. Or so much as it needs, To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. 30 Make we our march towards Birnam. [Exeunt, marching . SCENE III.] MACBETH. 251 Scene III. Dunsinane. A room in the castle. Enter Macbeth, Doctor and Attendants. Mach. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all: Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, 1 cannot taint with fear. What’s the boy Malcolm? Was he not bom of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus: “Fear not, Macbeth; no man that’s born of woman Shall e’er have power upon thee.” Then fly, false thanes, And mingle with the English epicures: The mind I sway by and the heart I bear Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. 10 Enter a Servant. The devil damn thee blade, thou cream-faced loon! Where got’st thou that goose look? Sew. There is ten thousand — Macb. Geese, villain?. Serv. Soldiers, sir. Macb. Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver’d boy. What soldiers, patch? Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, wlieyface? Serv. The English force, so please you. Macb. Take thy face hence. [Exit Servant. Seyton! — I am sick at heart, When I behold — Seyton, Isay! — This push 2Q Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. I have lived long enough: my way of life Is fall’n into the sere, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton! Enter Seyton. Sey. What is your gracious pleasure? Macb: What news more? 30 Sey. All is confirm’d, my lord, which was reported. Macb. I’ll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack’d. Give me my armour. Sey. ’Tis not needed yet. Macb. I’ll put it on. 252 MACBETH. [act v. Send out more horses: skirr the country round; Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour. How does your patient, doctor? Doct . Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled ^yith thick-coming fancies, That keep her from her rest. Mach. Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, • 40 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? Doct. Therein the patient Must minister to himself Mad). Throw physic to the dogs; I’ll none of it. Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff. Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes Hy from me. •Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast 50 The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again. — Pull’t off, Isay. — What rhubarb, fcyme, or what purgative drug, Would scour these English hence? Hear’st thou of them? Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something. Mdcb. Bring it after me. I will not be afraid of death and bane, Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. 60 Doct. [Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exeunt. Scene IY. Country near Birnam wood. Drum and colours. Enter Malcolm, old Siward and 7m Son, Macduff, Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Len- nox, Ross, and Soldiers, marching. Mai. Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand That chambers will be safe. Ment. We doubt it nothing. Siw. What wood is this before us? Ment. The wood of Birnam. Mai. Let every soldier hew him down a bough And bear’t before him: thereby shall we shadow SCENE V.] MACBETH. 253 The numbers of our host and make discovery Err in report of us. Soldiers. It shall be done. Siw. We learn no other but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure Our setting down before’t. Mai. ’Tis his main hope: 10 For where- there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrained things Whose hearts are absent too. Macd. Let our just censures Attend the true event, and put we on Industrious soldiership. Siw. The time approaches That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have and what we owe. Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, ^ But certain issue strokes must arbitrate: 20 Towards which advance the war. [Exeunt, marching. Scene V. Dunsinane. Within the castle. Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers, with drum and colours. Macb. Hang out our banners on the outw T ard walls; The cry is still “They come;” our castle’s strength Will laugh a siege to scorn : here let them lie Till famine and the ague eat them up: Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. [ A cry of icomen icithin. What is that noise? Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. [Exit. Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: The time has been my senses w T ould have cool’d 10 To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in’t: I have supp’d full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me. De-enter Seyton. Wherefore ‘was that cry? Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead. Macb. She should have died hereafter; 254 MACBETH. [act y. There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 20 To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. Enter a Messenger. Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. Mess. Gracious, my lord, 30 I should report that which I say I saw T , But know not how to do it. Mach. Well, say, sir. Messt As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look’d toward Birnam, and anon, metliought, The wood began to move. Mach. Liar and sVave! Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if’t be not so: Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove. Mach. If thou speak’st false. Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth, 40 I care not if thou dost for me as much. I pull in resolution, and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend That lies like truth: “Fear not, till Birnam wood Do come to Dunsinane:” and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor frying lienee nor tarrying here. I gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish the estate o’ the world were now undone. 50 Bing the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we’ll die with harness on our back. [ Exeunt . Scene YI. Dunsinane. Before the castle. Drum and colours. Enter Malcolm, old Siwakd, Macduff, and their Army, with boughs. Mai. Now near enough: 3 *our leafy screens throw down, And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle, SCENE VII.] MACBETH. 255 Shall, with my cousin, your right noble son, Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we Shall take upon’s what else remains to do, According to our order. Siw. Fare you well. Do we but find the tyrant’s power to-night, Let us be beaten if we cannot fight. Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. Scene VII. Another part of the field. Alarums. Enter Macbeth. Mach. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What’s he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none. Enter young Siwabd. To. Siw. What is thy name ? Macb. Tliou’lt be afraid to hear it. To. Siw. Mo; though thou call’st thyself a hotter name Than any is in hell. Macb. My name’s Macbeth. To. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear. Macb. Mo, nor more fearful. To. Siw. Thou best, abhorred tyrant; with my sword I’ll prove the lie thou speak’st. 11 [They fight and young Siward is slain. Macb. Thou wast born of woman. But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish’d by man that’s of a woman born. [Exit. Alarums. Enter Macduff. Macd. That w r ay the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! If thou be’st slain and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children’s ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword with an unbatter’d edge I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; 20 By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not. [Exit. Alarums. Enter Malcolm and old Siwabd. them all 9 [Exeunt. 256 MACBETH. [act y. She. This way, my lord; the castle’s gently render’d; The tyrant’s people on both sides do fight; The noble thanes do bravely in the war; The day almost itself professes yours, And little is to do. Mai. We have met with foes That strike beside us. Siw. Enter, sir, the castle. [ Exeunt . Alarums . Scene VIII. Another part of the field. Enter Macbeth. Mach. Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them. Enter Macduff. Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn! Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back; my soul is too much charged With blood of thine already. Macd. I have no words: My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out! [They fight. Macb. Thou losest labour: As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed: 10 Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born. Macd. Despair thy charm; And let the angel whom thou still hast served Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother’s womb Untimely ripp’d. Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow’d my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believed, That palter with us in a double sense; 20 That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope. I’ll not fight with thee. Macd. Then yield thee, cow^ard, And live to be the show and gaze o’ the time: We’ll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole, and underwrit, “ Here may you see the tyrant.” SCENE YIII.] MACBETH. 257 Mad). I will not yield. To kiss the ground before young Malcolm’s feet, And to be baited with the rabble’s curse. Though Birnarn wood be come to Dunsinane, 30 And thou opposed, being of no woman born, Yet* I will try the last. Before my body I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, And damn’d be him that first cries “ Hold, enough!” [ Exeunt , fighting. Alarums. Retreat. Flourish. Enter , with drum and colours , Malcolm, old Si ward, Ross, the other Thanes, and Soldiers. Mai. I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. 'Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought. Mai. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. Ross. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier’s debt: He only lived but till he was a man; 40 The. which no sooner had his prowess confirm’d In the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died. Site. Then he is dead? Ross. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sor- row Must not be measured by his worth, for then It hath no end. Siw. Had he his hurts before? Ross. Ay, on the front. Siw. Why then, God’s soldier be he! Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death: And so, his knell is knoll’d. Mai. ' He’s worth more sorrow, 50 And that I’ll spend for him. Siw. He’s worth no more: They say he parted well, and paid his score: And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort. Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth’s head. Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where standsj The usurper’s cursed head: the time is free: / I see thee compass’d with thy kingdom’s pearl, f That speak my salutation in their minds; Whose voices I desire aloud with mine: Hail, King of Scotland! All. Hail, King of Scotland! [ Flourish , Mai. We shall not spend a large expense of time 69 SHAK III. — 9 253 MACBETH. [act y. Before we reckon with your several loves, And make us even with you. M} r thanes and kinsmen. Henceforth, be earls, the first that ever Scotland In such an honour named. What’s more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, * As calling home our exiled friends abroad That fled the snares of watchful tyranny; Producing forth the cruel ministers Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, Who, as ’tis thought, by self and violent hands 7C Took off her life; this, and what needful else That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace, We will perform in measure, time and place: So, thanks to all at once and to each one, Whom we invite to see us crown’d at Scone. [Flourish. Exeunt William Warren edition OF* STANDARD PLAYS VALTER ft .BAKER & CO. • HAMILTON • PLACE BOSTON 8 s NEW PLAYS AND BOOKS Season 1925 JON ^ -~o-" ~ j' jvui/mui opinio auu intense modernity with the kindly wisdom of the previous generation. ~ i 1 A 1 J * 1 "alia t? YrC . f \ J W1C pxcviuua gciierauuu. tfrank Carmichael is trying to provide Julia, a pleasure loving wife, with city life and freedom from household care. Their home is a collection of mechanical conveniences, assembled in a combined living, dining, and sleeping room, plus bath and kitchenette.^ Into this “ONE ROOM, PLUS” of Fred and Julia, “Dad” Carmichael is warmly welcomed for a visit. He immediately makes himself at home finding the top of the bath tub a convenient place to sleep. John Carmichael, Fred s elder brother, and his wife, call on “Dad” and criticise Julia's extravagant tastes and aspirations and their influence on Fred. They flaunt their economies and exhibit, in con- trast to “ONE ROOM, PLUS,” a real home of their own in the suburbs. “Dad’s” kindly philosophy, whimsical wisdom, ) see both sides, brings about an unexpected and ability to x& harmony. Before he leaves “ONE ROOM, PLUS*” the recently antagonistic young people have to some degree, the aspect of a mutual admiration party. The six characters have equally prominent parts. That of “Dad” Carmichael with its shafts of homely wit will become classic. This is a play from the production of which actors and au- diences alike will derive keen enjoyment. Especially recom- mended to Little Theatres and schools. During the third act the characters enact their own story as it would appear in the movies. In submitting the manuscript of this play to a mem- ber of the faculty of one of our representative schools, the reply came back: “This is the best naturalistic play that I have read for many a day. The play reading committee of our sciiooi simply went wild over it and 1 Pope that you will allow us to give the premier performance in this part of the country.” Royalty $10.00. Price, 50 cents. By Dorothy O. Savage This is one of the strongest and most touching short plays written in recent years. Laid in a fisherman’s cottage on the bleak and stormy Scottish coast, it has in its very fibre a touch of the stress of the storm-tossed and wind-swept land. The types are fisher folk, primitive and vivid, and its tragic story marches relentlessly to its inevitable ending with that simplicity and truthfulness which marks real drama and real literature. Few plays of the day will be found more impres- sive by that public which wishes to find the theatre what a well-known critic has called “an adult art.” Three males, three females. Time of playing, about forty minutes. Royalty, each " * ih ~~ performance, $5.00. Manuscript only 50 cents per copy. 3 BAKER’S PLAYS, BOSTON. MASS ONE ROOM, PLUS By Elizabeth Calder & Walter Ben Hare A dramatic comedy in three acts. Three males and three females. Scenery a single easy interior. Plays a full even- ing. This laughable play blends youthful spirits and intense irniftr urifh IrmrllTT J.1 - / * THE MERCHANT OF VENICE & (Eflittefcjj in jFtbe Hcts BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE The text employed is substantially that used in the performances of the late Sir Henry Irving , but for some of the stage-business of this edition the editor is indebted to the admirable prompt-book of the Castle Square Theatre BOSTON WALTER H. BAKER & CO. i 90 7 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE CHARACTERS. Shylock, a Jew Duke of Venice .... Prince of Morocco, suitor to Portia Antomo, a merchant of Venice Bassanio, his friend ; a suitor to Portia Salanio, Salarino, Gratiano Lorenzo, in love with Jessica Tubal, a Jew, Shylock' s friend Launcklot Gobbo, servant to Shylock Old Gobbo, his father Prince of Arragon .... Gaoler Leonardo, servant to Bassanio Balthazar, servant to Portia . Stephano Clerk of the Court Portia, a rich heiress Neriss a, her waiting maid Jessica, Shylock' s daughter Drury Lane, Feb. 14 , Drury Lane, Jan. 26, 1741. 1814. Mr. Macklin. Mr. Kean. Mr. Winstone. Mr. Cashell. Mr. Pope. Mr. Quin. Mr. Powell. Mr. Mil ward. Mr. Rae. Mr. Berry. Mr. Barnard. Mr. Ridout. Mr. Vining. Mr. Mills. Mr. Wrench. Mr. Havard. Mr. Phillips. Mr. Taswell. Mr. Meredith. Mr. Chapman. Mr. Oxberry. Mr. Johnson. Mr. Turbutt. Mr. Butler. Mr. Elliot. Mrs. Clive. Miss Smith. Mrs. Pritchard. Mrs. Orger. Mrs. Woodman. Miss Povey. Magnificoes, Officers of the Court, Maskers, Servants and others, according to the conditions of the production. COSTUMES. Costumes for so important and well-known a play as this should 'be supplied by some reputable costumer. Home made dresses and amateur archaeology in such cases as these are dangerous economies. SYNOPSIS OF SCENES. ACT I. Scene i. “ 2. “ 3 - ACT II. Scene i. “ 2. “ 3 - ACT III. Scene i. “ 2. ACT IV. ACT V. A public place in Venice. Full stage. Portia’s Garden in Belmont. Scene in two. Same as Scene 1. A street in Venice. Full stage. Another street in Venice. Scene in one. Same as Scene 1. Portia’s House in Belmont. Interior — full stage. A street in Venice. Scene in one, same as Act II., Scene 2. Same as Scene x of this Act. A street in Venice. Same as Scene 2. A room in Portia’s house in Belmont. Scene in two. A court of justice in Venice. Another part of Portia’s garden in Belmont. Full stage. Copyright, 1907, by Walter H. Baker & Co. INTRODUCTION. The earliest mention of “ The Merchant of Venice ” is an entry by one James Robertes in The Stationers’ Register, July 22, 1598, in which it is clearly implied that the play was then the property of The Lord Chamberlain’s Company, of which its author was a member. The publication thus authorized is now known as The First Quarto, and is the earliest of the five sources of the text of this play that are known. The text found in the Folio of 1623 is a reprint of the second of the Quartos, entered by Thomas Haies, on October 28, 1600, an inferior text to that of Robertes, and clearly chosen by the editors be- cause it had been actually employed in the theatre and was thus nearer to its author. Their additions, chiefly matters of stage business, suffi- ciently indicate their plan of selection. The earlier text of Robertes contains no evidence of having been derived from an acting copy. The date of composition is doubtful. The first mention of the play by title is in Francis Mere’s “ Palladis Tamia” (1598), but in Hens- lowe’s Diary, reprinted in 1845 by Shakespeare Society, appears the entry: “25 of aguste 1594 ne Rd at the Venesyon comodey . . . I s VJ d.” Mr. Henslowe’s habit both of spelling and of expression -was illiterate, but it has been thought possible that in the above hiero- glyphic is recorded the first production of this play, ne being his cus- tomary abbreviation in such cases. Mr. Henslowe's returns from this venture were better than appears, the purchasing power of money hav- ing been many times greater in Shakespeare’s time than now. The plot may have been derived from many sources. There is, however, in Gosson’s “ Schoole of Abuse” (1579) a reference to “The Jew and Ptoleme, shown at the Bull (Inn), representing the greedinesse of worldly chusers and bloody mindes of usurers,” a play in which the casket and the bond ideas, both existing antecedently in a great vari- ety of forms, are combined. It falls in reasonably with Shakespeare’s easy-going habit of helping himself from the nearest and amplest dish to suppose him to have conveniently based “The Merchant of Venice” upon this play, traces of which, indeed, have been allowed to survive, by carelessness, in the text of its derivative. 3 4 INTRO D UC 710 N. What may have been the popular estimate of the character of Shy- lock in Shakespeare’s time, or what may have been the manner of interpreting the character then in vogue, are equally unknown. The original actor of the part of Shylock was Richard Burbadge, but of him and of his performance it is only meagrely recorded (1618) that he wore in the piece a red wig. It is probable that his effect in the part was comparable to that produced by him in the Barabas of Mar- lowe — a hateful one of tragic poignancy and power. The modern conception of Shylock as a sympathetic character was probably as far from the mind of his creator as was the purely comic aspect that it took on later. The next actor of the part was Thomas Doggett, whose name appears in the cast of characters prefixed to the printed text of the so-called Lansdowne version of this play, first published in 1701. By this time it is quite clear that Shylock had become by custom a low comedy character. No account of Doggett’s acting in this part sur- vives, but he was an habitual actor of humorous roles, and owing to the impossibility of treating the character as presented in Lord Lans- downe’s version in any dignified way, it seems probable that he played Shylock as a comic character. Our old friend Downes, the pioneer historian of the English stage, says of him in a general way: “ Mr. Doggett, On the stage, he’s very Aspectabund, wearing a Farce in his Face; his Thoughts deliberately framing his Utterance Congruous to his Looks : He is the only Comick Original now Extant : Witness, Ben , Solon, Nikin , the Jew of Venice , etc.” The Lansdowne version was adapted from Shakespeare’s text by George Granville, Viscount Lansdowne, and while — to the credit of the audiences of its period — it does not seem to have been especially popular, it still held the stage to the exclusion of the pure text for nearly forty years. Lansdowne, under the impression that he was im- proving the play, added a prologue in which the ghosts of Shakespeare and of Dryden, crowned with laurel, hold discourse with each other, neither author doing himself much credit by this spectral return to the stage. The ensuing play presented selections from the lines of Shake- speare, mingled with dreary inanities of the adapter’s own invention, and altogether omitted the characters of Tubel, Launcelot and Old Gobbo. Betterton played Bassanio in its original cast, and Mrs. Bracegirdle Portia. Doggett’s successors in the part were Benjamin Griffin (1714) and Anthony Aston (1722). The two great Shylocks of stage history are Macklin and Kean. The latter represents a great personal triumph ; the former not merely that but also a gratifying revulsion of popular feeling toward a great INTRO D UCTION 5 author, rescued by the originality, intelligence and native force of a very remarkable figure in theatrical history from a degrading miscon- ception of nearly half a century. It was in 1741 that Charles Macklin, an Irishman who had dropped his native McLaughlin with his brogue, and had become an actor of good reputation in London, persuaded Fleetwood, the then manager of Drury Lane, to revive the piece. His insight had enabled him to perceive the dramatic possibilities of the part, so long submerged in the muddy deluge of the Lansdowne “ im- provements,” and he had determined to adventure the verdict of the public with his conception of the character. During the rehearsals of the play he was wise enough not to invite the inevitable opposition of a timidly conservative management by the least hint of his iconoclastic purpose. It necessarily appeared, however, that he was cutting loose from the established Lansdowne in the employment of the unmutilated text, and Mr. Quin, among other actor critics, went so far as to say encouragingly that he “ would be hissed off the stage for his arrogance and presumption.” Fleetwood himself, finally aware that some inno- vation was on foot, remonstrated with the stubborn Macklin, urging subtly that his standing as an actor might be destroyed altogether by the inevitable failure of such an attempt ; but the player, supported by a sounder good sense and a better judgment, persisted in his inten- tion, and the play was finally announced for the evening of February 14, 1741, with the inimitable Kitty Clive as Portia. When the night came the house was crowded in every part within a very few minutes after the opening of the doors. Some came to support the actor in his attempt, and some to oppose him with hisses. His fellow- actors were apprehensive of failure and inclined to be malicious and unsympathetic. The manager was vociferous in the expression of his fears and distress ; the feelings of Macklin, burdened as he was with the sole responsibility for this attempt, may be imagined. Cooke’s “ Life of Macklin” gives a most interesting and dramatic account of the event in detail. For present purposes it need only be said that the actor’s reception in the part was cordial and his hearing a fair one, and that in the great scene with Tubal in the third act his final triumph was announced in thunders of applause so great that he was obliged to pause between the speeches to give them opportunity. His own words will best sum up the result of his and Shakespeare’s triumph on that evening : “ On my return to the green-room after the play was over, it was crowded with nobility and critics, who all complimented me in the warmest and most unbounded manner; and the situation I felt myself in I must confess was one of the most flattering and intoxi- 6 INTRO D UCTION eating of my whole life. No money, no title, could purchase what I felt ; and let no man tell me after this what Fame will not inspire a man to do, and how far the attainment of it will not remunerate his greatest labors. By G , sir, though I was not worth fifty pounds in the world at that time, yet, let me tell you, I was Charles the Great for that night.” The play ran twenty-one nights, a significantly long run for that time, was repeatedly revived in that and later seasons, and firmly established Macklin’s reputation. George II. is said to have been unable to sleep after seeing his performance of the Jew. It was of Macklin that Pope said, on the third night of the play, — This is the Jew That Shakespeare drew. Macklin dressed the part of Shylock for the first time with some attempt at historical correctness, wearing a red hat, and otherwise aim- ing to convey some flavor of the place and period, but his example had but small influence on his fellow-players. Even so late as his last ap- pearance Miss Pope, his Portia, wore the wig and gown of an English barrister of the period, while the Duke of Venice presented all the externals of an English judge, and the other parts were dressed in contemporary street costume. Macklin is supposed to have been born in May, 1690. His last appearance on the stage took place on May 7, 1789, in the part of Shylock, for his own benefit, at nearly one hun- dred years of age. His memory not unnaturally failed him, and Ryder, who was ready for such an emergency, finished the part for him. He lived eight years longer — until 1797. Thirteen years after Macklin’s revival — October 30, 1754 — Sheri- dan appeared in the character at Covent Garden, to the first perform- ance of Portia by the great Woffington, and after him several comedi- ans followed in the footsteps of Doggett, but without venturing to defy the Macklin tradition : Shuter, the Gobbo of the Sheridan cast, to the Portia of Mrs. Hamilton, on May 3, 1759; King, the original Sir Peter Teazle, March 24, 1768, to the Portia of Mrs. Dancer; Yates, March 27, 1770; Digges, at the Haymarket, August 24, 1780; Ryder, at the Haymarket, June 22, 1790, and Harley, at Covent Garden, May 12, 1796. Henderson appeared in the character at the Haymarket, June it, 1777, and the great John Philip Kemble, at Drury Lane, to the Portia of Miss E. Kemble, January 22, 1784, but with no notable suc- cess. Elliston played Shylock at the Haymarket to the Portia of Miss De Camp, at her first appearance, August 28, 1797, and G. F. Cooke appeared in the part at Covent Garden, November 10, 1800, to Miss IN' TROD UCTION. 7 Murray’s Portia. Charles Young acted the Jew at the Haymarket on the occasion of Mrs. Glover’s first appearance as Portia, on August 16, 1809, and Stephen Kemble followed him at Drury Lane, October 5, 1813, to the Portia of Miss Smith. On January 26, 1814, at Drury Lane Theatre, occurred the memor- able debut of the great Edmund Kean in this character. Engaged by Arnold, the then manager of the house, he came up to London full of high hopes, only to endure a month or more of delay, disappointment and humiliation while some dispute as to his prior engagement at the Wych St. house was being settled with Elliston, -who claimed his ser- vices. Poor and friendless, his salary withheld after the first week, snubbed by his fellow-actors and advised by many on a hasty valuation of his mere externals, which were not impressive, to abandon a profes- sion in which he could never hope to succeed, he remained steadfast and confident. Finally he was offered a first appearance, but advised to make it in a minor character. He stood fast in his determination that it should be in Shylock or in nothing. Huddart, of Dublin, had recently failed in this same part, and Sowerby, another man banked on as a novelty, had not succeeded, so it was finally decided to give the little man a chance upon his own terms. He was only five feet five inches high, and hopes for him were in strict proportion to his inches. Nearly everything was against him : the supporting company shirked rehearsals, and when they came they rehearsed without interest and did not spare the new-comer criticism and even offensive comment ; but he who had borne much was able to bear more. The night of his debut was bitterly cold and the house was half empty and without any helpful enthusiasm. He wore a black wig in the part — an unheard-of innovation. Yet he was received with encouragement and ended the act to significant applause. The second act went better and the actor warmed with his audience. At the beginning of the third act the doubting actors were summoned from the green-room by the tumult in front to be witnesses of an unprecedented success. In a single even- ing Edmund Kean had taken a place high above the heads of them all with probably fewer circumstances to aid him and more to hold him back than any actor ever had in a similar case. It has been said that the life of an actor is less intrinsically dramatic in its course than that of most men ; Macklin and Kean seem to offer striking exceptions to this statement. After Kean, Shylocks multiplied too fast to be reckoned. Macready, who first played the part at Covent Garden May 13, 1823, to the Portia of Mrs. Ogilvie, was the first to make the Jew an old man. Samuel 8 IN TROD UCTION. Phelps, who had played Tubal to Edmund Kean in 1831 in a small town in the north of England, and had attracted his favorable notice in the character, made his London debut in the part of Shylock at the Kaymarket, August 28, 1837, to the Portia of Miss Huddart. Charles Kean, who, suffering from a chronic cold in the head, made Shylock a vegetarian by his inescapable mispronunciation of the line, “ When you do take the £eans by which I live ” first appeared in the part June 3, 1840, at the Haymarket; later, in 1858, he gave the piece a spectac- ular revival at the Princess’s, with Mrs. Kean (Ellen Tree) as Portia. Farren, whose conspicuous leanness of person stimulated the gallery to obvious repartee in the scene of the pound of flesh, was another Shy- lock, and Dowton is notable as one of the few who utterly failed in the part. A long list of recent Shylocks is closed by the well-remem- bered performance of Sir Henry Irving, which was first given at the Lyceum, London, November 1, 1879. The part has been played by women — among others, by Charlotte Crampton and Mrs. Macready. Portia has been acted by a long line of players more or less distin- guished, but few of which can be named. The Portias of the Lans- downe version were Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Bradshaw and Mrs. Barry. There is no record of any earlier players of the part. Kitty Clive, Macklin’s Portia, had the success of a popular favorite merely. She is said to have given in the trial scene an imitation of Lord Mansfield, which enables us to measure the value of her performance with some accuracy. Miss Macklin, the daughter of the veteran, whose highest joy it was to play men’s parts, naturally found Portia to her liking, and played the part in support of her distinguished father at Covent Gar- den, April 13, 1776. A life-long difference between these two, father and daughter, resulted from a trifling difference of opinion as to a line in the trial scene of this play, in which neither would yield. Mrs. Abington played Portia for the first time in London at Drury Lane, November 5, 1768, having made her first appearance in the character in Dublin, January 7, 1760. The great Mrs. Siddons made her first appearance in London as Portia, to the Shylock of King, on December 29, 1775. She was announced as “A Young Lady,” and, as she her- self says, “was merely tolerated,” and went back to the provinces. Twenty-eight years later (1803) she again appeared in the part as one of a strong cast embracing George Frederick Cooke as Shylock, J. P. Kemble as Antonio and Charles Kemble as Bassanio. A distinguished procession of later Portias is impressively brought up by that of Miss Ellen Terry, Mr. Irving’s leading support, who first played the part to the Shylock of Charles Coghlan in 1874, INTRODUCTION. 9 “The Merchant of Venice ” was the first play produced by the Hallams, who headed the first regular company to give theatrical per- formances in America. This performance was given in Williamsburgh, then the capital of Virginia, a village of two hundred or so buildings and perhaps a thousand souls, September 5, 1752. The Hallam Com- pany, just arrived from England on “ The Charming Sally,” acted in an adapted warehouse so near to the woods that the actors could and did shoot pigeons from the stage door. The orchestra consisted of Mr. Pelham alone, performing upon a harpsichord. Mr. Rigby, later the Bassanio, spoke the prologue. Mr. Malone was the Shylock and Mrs. Hallam the Portia. Miss Cheer played Portia in Philadelphia in 1766, and Mrs. Osborne in Annapolis in 1769. Mrs. Morris appeared in the part in Philadelphia in 1772 to the Shylock of Mr. Henry, described by Hallam as “ a splendid amateur actor,” and Mrs. Ryan in Baltimore in 1782, supported in Launcelot by one Mr. Shakespeare — an ama- teur, unfortunately, and not “consanguineous.” Between the dates of these two performances theatrical prices had been high in Philadel- phia — fifteen dollars admission for a child, twenty dollars for a seat in the gallery, thirty dollars to the pit, and forty to the boxes — Conti- nental money. Mrs, Whitlock (Elizabeth Kemble) was the first “ star ” to make a tour of the United States. She played before George Washington in Philadelphia, and was engaged for four hundred and fifty dollars and a benefit to play a season at the Boston Theatre, in October, 1796, where she appeared as Portia among other things The first Shylock seen in Boston was that of Mr. Hipworth, who pre- sented himself in the character at his own benefit at the Federal St. Theatre, June 17, 1795, to Portia of Mrs. Snelling Powell, who had been reckoned in England as second only to Mrs. Siddons, and of whom George III. had approved. She was later on the salary list of the Haymarket Theatre, Boston, at forty-two dollars a week. It was at this house, situated at the corner of Tremont and Boylston Sts., that Mrs. Giles Leonard Barrett, the second Portia to delight a Boston audience, appeared in support of her husband’s Shylock, on January 27, 1797. She was a pupil of Macklin, and made her debut as one of his numerous Portias. A Mrs. Henderson played Portia in Charleston in 1796. The first performance of the “ Merchant of Venice ” in New York was given at the John St. Theatre in 1768. Henry J. Finn made his first American appearance in the part at the Park Theatre, January 16, 1818. Edwin Forrest attempted it for the first time at the Bowery, July 23, 1827, but he was far from great in the character, and plaved IO INTRO D UC TION. it but a few times. C. W. Couldock played Shylock at Castle Garden, September 6, 1852, the occasion being the centennial of the first Amer- ican production of the play. Mrs. Vickery was the Portia and Mr. Burton the Launcelot. James W. Wallack played the part at his own house December 9, 1858. Mrs. Hoey was the Portia and Lester Wal- lack the Bassanio. Edwin Booth first played the Jew in New York at Tripler Hall, February 11, 1861. He appeared in this character at the Haymarket, London, on September 30 in the same year, to the Portia of Mrs. Charles Young (Mrs. Herman Vezin), and made an elaborate production of the play at Winter Garden, New York, on January 28, 1867, that ran for seven weeks. Matilda Heron, one of the innumer- able Portias of native growth, first appeared in the part at Laura Kesne’s Varieties, New York, May 8, 1863. Charlotte Cushman played Portia more than once, but it was only a rivet in her crown and not a jewel. In the year 1787 “ The Merchant of Venice ” fell into the hands of one of the innumerable army of mediocre German composers, Mr. J. A. Just, who set it to music in an opera that was performed for the first and last time in Amsterdam. The play was later turned into an opera said to have possessed considerable merit, by an Italian, Signor Petrella. The play has been acted a good deal in Germany, and is an established item of the German repertoire. It was played eighty-four times in 1896 and sixty-two times in 1897 in that country. It was plagiarized by Cyrano de Bergerac (1619-1655) in his “ Agrippina,” and while it has never been acted in a French version, it has been more than once presented in Paris in English by English actors, notably by Edmund Kean. A Japanese version of this play was produced by a Japanese com- pany at the Bijou Theatre, New York, March 12, 1900. F. E. Chase. June 12, THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. ACT I. Scene I. — Venice . Set represents a public place. Back drop in four represents the Grand Canal with ships with colored sails i?i foreground at L. Sunshi?ie on set and dur- ing the action. Carriers laden with packs pass back and forward as if lading ships. One or two groups of sailors a?id gondoliers dress the scene up stage and move about during actio?i. Entrances marked with houses at both r. and L. LIGHTS full up* (When the curtain is well up , enter, fro?n r. u. e., Anton to followed by Salarino a?id Salanio. Antonio is a staid \ bearded man of dignified bearing , wearing a long tunic and hat of rich black velvet. Salarino and Salanio are younger , and dressed i?i gay colors ) Antonio (as if replying to a reproach on his sad man?ier, as they come down). In sooth, I know not why I am so sad ; It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; But how I caught it, found it or came by it, What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn ; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me That I have much ado to know myself. (Stops at c.) Salarino (at l.). Your mind is tossing on the ocean; There, where your argosies with portly sail — Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea — Do overpeer the petty traffickers That curt’sy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. ii 12 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE , Salanio (at r.). Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind ; Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads ; And every object that might make me fear Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, Would make me sad. Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague when I thought What harm a wind too great might do at sea, I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, But I should think of shallows and of flats ; And see my wealthy Andrew dock’d in sand, Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs, To kiss her burial. Shall I have the thought To think on this ; and shall I lack the thought, That such a thing bechanc’d, would make me sad ? But tell not me ; I know Antonio Is sad to think upon his merchandise. Ant. Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate Upon the fortune of this present year. Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Salan. Why then you are in love. Ant. Fye, fye ! Salan. Not in love, neither ? Then let’s say you are sad, Because you are not merry ; and ’twere as easy For you to laugh, and leap and say you are merry Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time ; Some that will evermore peep through their eyes And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper ; And other of such vinegar aspect, That they’ll not show their teeth in way of smile Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare you well. ( Passes behind An- tonio to join Salarino at l.) We leave you now with better company. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. *3 Salar. ( saluting Antonio as he and Salanio move up tow- ard l.). I would have staid till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me. Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I take it your own business calls on you, And you embrace the occasion to depart. Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo and Gratiano at r. i e. Lor- enzo is the youngest of the three , Bassanio the most distin- guished and Gratiano the gayest . Salar. ( greeting them). Good morrow, my good lords. Bassanio ( crossing quickly to l.). Good signiors both, when shall we laugh ? Say when ? (Lorenzo and Gratiano talk with Antonio.) You grow exceeding strange. (As Salanio and Salarino show by a gesture that they have business elsewhere.) Must it be so ? Salar. We’ll make our leisures to attend on yours. Exeunt Salarino and Salanio at l. 3 e. Lorenzo (crossing to l. c.). My lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, We two will leave you ; but at dinner time, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Bass, (at l.). I will not fail you. Gratiano (r.). You look not well, Signior Antonio ; You have too much respect upon the world. They lose it that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvellously changed. Ant. (c.). I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one. Gra. Let me play the fool ; With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man whose blood is warm within THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 14 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, — I love thee, and it is my love that speaks : There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion (. During this speech all the action up stage has ceased , and the sailors, porters and gondoliers who have dressed the scene move away to leave it free for the rest of the action .) Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say, “ I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips let no dog bark ! ” Oh, my Antonio, I do know of these, That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing. I’ll tell thee more of this another time. Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well a while ; I’ll end my exhortation after dinner. Lor. (to Bassanio). Well, we will leave you then till din- ner time. I must be one of these same dumb wise men, For Gratiano never lets me speak. (Crosses to r.) Gra. (linking his arm in Lorenzo’s). Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. Ant. Farewell. I’ll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i’faith ; for silence only is commendable In a neat’s tongue dried and a maid not vendible. Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo at r. Ant. Is that anything now ? Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing — more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff ; you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them they are not worth the search. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . *5 Ant. (who has been gazing after Lorenzo and Gratiano, turns to Bassanio, and with a change of manner and tone from indifference to affectionate interest , places his hands on his friend's shoulders and looks in his face). Well ; tell me now what lady is this same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage That you to-day promis’d to tell me of ? Bass. ( returning Antonio’s frank gaze), ? Tis not un- known to you, Antonio, How much I have disabled mine estate By something showing a more swelling port Than my faint means would grant continuance. Nor do I now make moan to be abridged From such a noble rate ; but my chief care Is to come fairly off from the great debts Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, I owe the most, in money and in love ; And from your love I have a warranty To unburthen all my plots and purposes, How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ; And if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honor, be assur’d (with an outward gesture , as he takes his hands from Bassanio’s shoulders , as if offer- ing his friend everythmg he had ) My purse, my person, my extremest means, Lie all unlocked to your occasions. Bass, (moving down r., after a moment's pause). In my school days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight The selfsame way, with more advised watch, To find the other forth ; and, by adventuring both, I oft found both ; I urge this childhood proof, Because what follows is pure innocence. I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth, That which I owe is lost ; but if you please To shoot another arrow that self way Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, As I will watch the aim, or to find both Or bring your latter hazard back again, And thankfully rest debtor for the first. i6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Ant. You know me well ; and herein spend but time To wind about my love with circumstance ; And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong In making question of my uttermost, Than if you had made waste of all I have. Then do but say to me what I should do, That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest unto it ; therefore, speak. Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes I did receive fair speechless messages. Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued To Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia. Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; For the four winds blow in from every coast Renowned suitors ; and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos’ strand, And many Jasons come in quest of her. Oh, my Antonio, had I but the means To hold a rival place with one of them, I have a mind presages me such thrift That I should questionless be fortunate. WARN change* SIGNAL lights down* Ant. ( reflects a moment and then , coming down to Bassanio, places a hand on his shoulder affectionately ). Thou know’st that all my fortunes are at sea ; Neither have I money nor commodity To raise a present sum ; therefore go forth, Try what my credit can in Venice do ; That shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia. Go, presently inquire, and so will I, Where money is, and I no question make To have it of my trust or for my sake. Exeunt together , r. i e. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 17 LIGHTS down for change* CHANGE set* Scene II. — Lights up, disclosing a part of the garden in Por- tia’s house at Belmont. Back drop in two represents a terrace with flowers and trees . A flight of stone steps leads up to it, and at L. c. is a practical stone seat on which there are some gay cushions and a book . LIGHTS full up* Enter Portia at once at l. i e.,. followed by Nerissa. Portia ( with a sigh that is almost a groan as she drops into the seat). By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this great world. Nerissa ( standing behind Portia). You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are. And yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much as they that starve with noth- ing. It is no mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean ; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but compe- tency lives longer. Por. ( shrugging her shoulders wearily ). Good sentences and well pronounced. Ner. ( coming down r. c.). They would be better if well followed. Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches and poor men’s cottages prince’s palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions. I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband. Oh, me, the word choose ! I may neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living daughter curb’d by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse none ? Ner. Your father was ever virtuous ; and holy men at their death have good inspirations ; therefore the lottery that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver and lead i8 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. (whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you) will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one who you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come ? Por. I pray thee over-name them ; and as thou namest them I will describe them ; and according to my description level at my affection. Ner. {as if listing them off on her fingers ). First, there is the Neapolitan prince. Por. ( with a grimace'). Ay, that’s a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him himself. {Rise si) Ner. Then is there the county Palatine. Por. He doth nothing but frown ; as who should say {striking an attitude in imitatio?i of himfi “ An if you will 'iot have me, choose. ” He hears merry tales and smiles not. I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death’s head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. God defend me from these two ! Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon ? Por. {quickly) God made him and therefore let him pass for a man. Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony’s nephew ? Por. {with a grimace of disgust). Very vilely in the morn- ing when he is sober, and most vilely in the afternoon when he is drunk ; when he is best he is a little worse than a man ; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast. An’ the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him. Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your father’s will if you should refuse to accept him. Por. {with emphasis , as she goes to Nerissa). Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket ; for, if the devil be within and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. *9 Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords ; they have acquainted me with their determination, which is, indeed, to return to their home and to trouble you with no more suit. Por. (with a gesture of thanking heave?i, sinks with a sigh of relief into her seat again). I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant them a fair departure. Ner. (passing behind Portia). Do you not remember, lady, in your fathers time, a Venetian, a scholar and a sol- dier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of Mont- ferrat ? Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, so was he called. Ner. True, madam ; he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. Por. I remember him well ; and I remember him worthy of thy praise. Enter Balthazar at l. i e. (To him.) How now! What news ? RING lights down for change* Balthazar. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave ; and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the prince, his master, will be here to-night. Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his approach. (Rising.) Come, Nerissa. (Placing her hand on Nerissa’s shoulder. To Balthazar.) Sirrah, go before. Exit Balthazar, l. i e. Whiles we shut the gate on one wooer another knocks at the door. Exeunt, gaily , Portia and Nerissa, l. i e. STAGE darkened for change* 20 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Scene III . — Lights up to disclose same set as Scene i. Shy- lock enters from r. u. e., muttering to himself and fol- lowed by Bassanio. He comes down to c. and stands a moment , while Bassanio follows him to l. c. LIGHTS full up# Shylock ( leaning both hands on his cane and looking keenly at Bassanio). Three thousand ducats — well. Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. Shy. For three months — well. Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. Shy. Antonio shall become bound — well. Bass. May you stead me ? Will you pleasure me ? Shall I know your answer ? Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, and An- tonio bound. Bass. Your answer to that. Shy. (as if reflecting'). Antonio is a good man. Bass, (sharply). Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ? Shy. (in a conciliatory tone). No — no, no, no, no; my meaning in saying that he is a good man is to have you un- derstand me that he is sufficient ; yet his means are in sup- position. He hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies ; I understand moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England — and other ventures he hath, squander’d abroad. But ships are but boards, sail- ors but men ; there be land rats and water rats, land thieves and water thieves — I mean pirates ; and then there is the peril of waters, winds and rocks. The man is, notwithstand- ing, sufficient ; three thousand ducats — I think I may take his bond. Bass. Be assured you may. Shy. I will be assured I may ; and that I may be as- sured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio ? Bass. If it please you to dine with us. Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 21 and so following, but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. ( Looking off l.) What news on the Rialto ? Who comes here ? Bass. ( turning to follow Shylock’s gaze). This is Signior Antonio. ( Hurries ojffi to meet him.) Shy. ( looking off l. as he remams alone on stage ; to him- self). How like a fawning publican he looks ! I hate him for he is a Christian ; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. ( Coming down c., reflecting , as Antonio and Bassanio come on at l. to- gether in earnest conversation. He does not notice them as they come down l. c. and wait for him to give his decision .) If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate, On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe If I forgive him ! Bass. ( quitting Antonio and approaching Shylock ; stops at L. C.). Shylock! (Shylock keeps on muttering .) Do you hear ? Shy. (without looking toward him). I am debating of my present store, And, by the near guess of my memory, I cannot instantly raise up the gross Of full three thousand ducats. What of that ? Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, Will furnish me. But soft. How many months Do you desire ? ( Looks up as if seeing Antonio for the first timel) Rest you fair, good signior ; Your Worship was the last man in our mouths. Ant. (disregarding Shylock ’s half servile manner; at l.). Shylock, albeit that I neither lend nor borrow By taking nor by giving of excess, Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 22 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . I’ll break a custom. (To Bassanio.) Is he yet possess’d How much you would ? Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. Ant. And for three months. Shy. I had forgot. (To Bassanio.) Three months, you told me so. Well, then, your bond; and, let me see — (To Antonio.) But hear you ; Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow Upon advantage. Ant. I do never use it. Shy. When Jacob grazed his Uncle Laban’s sheep, This Jacob from our holy Abraham was (As his wise mother wrought in his behalf) The third possessor ; ay, he was the third. Ant. And what of him ? Did he take interest ? Shy. No, not take interest ; not as you would say, Directly interest ; mark what Jacob did. When Laban and himself were compromised That all the eanlings which were streak’d and pied Should fall as Jacob’s hire, the ewes, being rank, The skilful shepherd peel’d me certain wands, And m the doing of the deed of kind, He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ; Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time Fall party-color ’d lambs ; and those were Jacob’s. This was a way to thrive, and he was blest ; And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for A thing not in his power to bring to pass, But sway’d and fashion’d by the hand of heaven. Was this inserted to make interest good ? Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ? Shy. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast. But note me, signior — Ant. (with scorn; aside to Bassanio). Mark you this. Bassanio, The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; A goodly apple rotten at the heart. Oh, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 2 3 Shy. ( reflecting ). Three thousand ducats — ’tis a round sum. Three months from twelve — then let me see the rate. Ant. ( impatiently ). Well, Shy lock, shall we be beholden to you ? Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my monies and my usances ; Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. ( Touching his yellow cap which by the laws of Ve?iice all Jews were obliged to wear.) You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well, then, it now appears you need my help. Go to, then ; you come to me and you say : ‘ Shylock, we would have monies.” You say so — You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold ; monies is your suit. What shall I say to you ? Should I not say : “ Hath a dog money ? is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? ” Or Shall I bend low, and in a bondman’s key, With ’bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this : “ Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; You spurn’d me such a day ; another time You call’d me — dog ; and for these courtesies I’ll lend you thus much monies ? ” Ant. (in anger). I am as like to call thee so again, To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends ; (for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend ? ) But lend it rather to thine enemy ; Who, if he break, thou may’st with better face Exact the penalty. Shy. Why, look you, how you storm ! I would be friends with you and have your love, 24 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Forget the shames that you have stain’d me with, Supply your present wants, and take no doit Of usance for my monies, and you’ll not hear me. This is kind I offer. Ant. This were kindness. Shy. This kindness will I show. Go with me to a notary ; seal me there Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport, If you repay me not on such a day, In such a place, such sum, or sums, as are Express’d in the condition, let the forfeit Be nominated ( hesitates , as if seeking what useless forfeit he ought for form's sake to name ) : for an equal pound Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your body pleaseth me. Ant. Content, in faith ; I’ll seal to such a bond, And say there is much kindness in the Jew. Bass, {quickly ; in some alarm). You shall not seal to such a bond for me, I’ll rather dwell in my necessity. Ant. (gaily). Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it ; Within these two months, that’s a month before This bond expires, I do expect return Of thrice three times the value of this bond. Shy. (casting up his eyes). O father Abraham, what these Christians are ! Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect The thoughts of others! (To Bassanio.) Pray, you, tell me this : If he should break his day, what should I gain By the exaction of the forfeiture ? A pound of man’s flesh taken from a man Is not so estimable, profitable neither, As flesh of muttons, beefs or goats. I say WARN curtain* To buy his favor I extend this friendship. If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu. (Starts to go up stage toward L.) And for my love I pray you wrong me not. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 2 5 Ant. ( staying him). Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. Shy. {up c.). Then meet me forthwith at the notary’s ; Give him direction for this merry bond, And I will go and purse the ducats straight ; See to my house, left in the fearful guard Of an unthrifty knave ; and presently I will be with you. Exit, l. u. E. Ant. {with a laughing gesture of farewell ). Hie thee, gen- tle Jew. {Turning back to Bassanio, who stands sadly at l. c.). This Hebrew will turn Christian ; he grows kind. Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind. RING curtain* Ant. Come on ; in this there can be no dismay ; My ships come home a month before the day. Exeunt together , Antonio with his arm thrown over Bassanio’s shoulder , their moods quite cha7iged — Antonio gay, Bas- sanio depressed. SLOW CURTAIN. ACT II. Scene I. — Street beside a bridge over one of the smaller canals in Venice. The canal and street run obliquely from L. 2 E. to R. u. e. Practical bridge crosses the canal from R. 3 e. to L. u. e. Practical steps at R. Entrances at R. 1 E. and L. 1 E. on stage , L. u. e. over the bridge , and for gondolas by canal in L. 2 e. and r. u. e. At L., between first en- trance and bridge , is Shylock ’s house. A wide , low door with one step gives e7itrance to it, and over the door is a small window a7id balcony. LIGHTS full up* 26 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Enter Launcelot from house at l. Launcelot ( coming to c. and looking ruefully at the house , as he rubs his head i?i perplexity). Certainly my conscience would serve me to run from this Jew, my master. The fiend is at my elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, u Gobbo, Laun- celot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Laun- celot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away.” My conscience says, “No; take heed, honest Launcelot ; take heed, honest Gobbo.” Or, as aforesaid, “ Honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run ; scorn running with thy heels.” Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack. “Via! ” says the fiend. “Away!” says the fiend. “For the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,” says the fiend, “ and run.” Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, “ My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man’s son” — or, rather, an honest woman’s son, for indeed my father elfd something smack, something grow to ; he had a kind of taste. Well, my conscience says, “ Launcelot, budge not.” “ Budge,” says the fiend. “ Budge not,” says my conscience. “Conscience,” says I, “you counsel well; fiend,” says I, “ you counsel well.” To be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew, my master, who (God bless the mark !) is a kind of devil. And to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal, and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel ; I will run, fiend. My heels are at your command ; I will run. Gobbo ( outside , at r.). Master young man, you ; I pray you which is the way to master Jew’s ? Laun. (aside). Oh, heavens, this is my true begotten father ! who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel-blind, knows me not. I will try confusions with him. Enter Old Gobbo at r., with a basket on his arm and guiding himself with a stick . Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you which is the way to master Jew’s ? THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 27 Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but at the next, turning of all, on your left ; marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew’s house. Gob. By God’s sonties, ’twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwells with him or no ? Laun. Talk you of young master Launcelot? (Aside.) Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young master Launcelot ? Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man’s son ; his father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live. Laun. Well, let his father be what a’ will, we talk of young master Launcelot. Gob. Your Worship’s friend, and Launcelot, sir. Laun. But I pray you ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you ; talk you of young master Launcelot. Gob. Of Launcelot, an’t please your mastership. Laun. Ergo, master Launcelot ; talk not of master Laun- celot, father ; for the young gentleman (according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and such branches of learning) is, indeed — deceased ; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. Gob. Marry, heaven forbid ! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop. Laun. (aside). Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? (To Gobbo.) Do you know me, father? Gob. Alack the day ! I know you not, young gentleman ; but, I pray you, tell me is my boy (heaven rest his soul !) alive or dead ? Laun. Do you not know me, father ? Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ! I know you not. Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes you might fail of the knowing me ; it is a wise father that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son. (Gets slowly down on his knees in front of Gobbo, with his hack to him , and rolling up his eyes.) Give me your blessing ; truth will come to light ; murder cannot be hid long; a man’s son may, but in the end truth will out. Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up ; I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy. 28 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Laun. Pray you, let’s have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing. I am Launcelot— your boy that was — your son that is — your child that shall be. Gob. ( confused and half sobbing childishly). I cannot think you are my son. Laun. (with a comic start , looking up sideways at the old man). I know what I shall think of that ; but I am Laun- celot, the Jew’s man ; and I am sure that Marjory, your wife, is my mother. Gob. Her name is Marjory, indeed. I’ll be sworn if thou be Launcelot thou art mine own flesh and blood. (Launcelot with a sigh takes off his cap and the old man falls to f umbling the back of his head , thinking it is his face , to Laun- celot ’s glee and the old marls confusion. ) Lord, worshipped might he be 1 what a beard hast thou got ! Thou hast more hair on thy chin than Dobbin, my phill-horse, has on his tail. Laun. It would seem, then, that Dobbin’s tail grows backward. ( Turns aboutl) I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have of my face when I last saw him. (Rising.) Gob. (r.). Lord ! how art thou changed ! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. (Showing his basket.) How ’gree you now ? Laun. (l.). Well, well ; but for mine own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground. My master’s a very Jew. Give him a pres- ent ? Give him a halter 1 I am famished in his service ; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. (Takes Gobbo’s hand and rubs it up and down his ribs.) Father, I am glad you are come. Give me your present to one mas- ter Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries ; if I serve not him, I will run as far as heaven has any ground. (Zooks off r. and claps his hands to his knees.) Oh, rare fortune ! here comes the man! (Crosses further to l. with Gobbo, as Bassanio enters at r. with Leonardo and a second servant, to whom he is giving orders. They stop at r. c. Launcelot gets behind Gobbo and begins pushing him toward Bassanio. The old man holds back.) To him, father, for I am a Jew if I serve the Jew any longer. Bass, (to servant). You may do so, but let it be hasted, that supper be ready at the furthest by five o’clock. (Gives THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 2 9 him letters.) See these letters delivered, put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. Exit servant at R. i E. Laun. ( pushing Gobbo forward). To him, father. Gob. (to Bassanio). Heaven bless your Worship. Bass, (turning). Gramercy 1 would’st thou aught with me ? Gob. (shewing Launcelot). Here'is my son, sir ; a poor boy — Laun. (swinging the old man away and taking his place , hat in hand). Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s man ; that would, sir — as my father shall specify — (Swings Old Gobbo in front of him again i) Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve — Laun. ( repeating former action and taking the front place again himself). Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and I have a desire — as my father shall specify — (Swings Gobbo forward again.) Gob. His master and he, saving your Worship’s rever- ence, are scarce cater-cousins. Bass. ( between laughter and impatience ). One speak for both ; what would you ? Laun. (coming forward). Serve you, sir. Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, sir. Bass. I know thee well ; thou hast obtained thy suit ; Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment, To leave a rich Jew’s service to become The follower of so poor a gentleman. Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir ; you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough. Bass. Thou speakest it w r ell. Go, father, with thy son ; Take leave of thy old master, and inquire My lodging out. (To Leonardo.) Give him a livery More guarded than his fellows’. See it done. (Takes his tablet and write si) Laun. (strutting and dragging his father to l.). Father, in. 3 ° THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . I cannot get a service, no; I have ne’er a tongue in my head ? Well ! (. Stopping at l. and reading his palm , after having carefully wiped it.) Well — If any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a booh, I shall have good fortune. {Tracing a li?ie on the palm of his left hand with the forefi?iger of his right.) Go to, here’s a simple line of life ! here’s a small trifle of wives. Alas ! fif- teen wives is nothing 1 Eleven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man ; and then to ’scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather bed — here are simple ’scapes ! Well, if fortune be a woman, she’s a good wench for this gear. ( Taking Gobbo once more by the arm.) Father, come ; I’ll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. ' Exeunt Launcelot and Gobbo at l. into house. Bass. ( giving Leonardo the paper he has written ). I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this ; These things being bought, and orderly bestow’d, Return in haste, for I do feast to-night My best-esteem’d acquaintance ; hie thee, go. Lorenzo mounts steps to cross the bridge and exits at L. u. e. Bassanio exits r. i e. On the bridge Leonardo meets Gratiano, who enters at l. u. e. Gra. (at extreme l. as Leonardo greets him). Where is your master ? Leonardo (pointing off at r.). Yonder, sir, he walks. Exit l. from bridge . Gra. (at centre of bridge , calling off r.). Signior Bassanio 1 Enter Bassanio at r. Bass. Gratiano ! (Comes to c.) Gra. I have a s^iit to you. (Comes down.) Bass. (l. c.). You have obtain’d it. Gra. (r. c.). You must not deny me ; I must go with you to Belmont. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 3 1 Bass. Why, then, you must; but hear thee, Gratiano ; Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice — Parts that become thee happily enough, And in such eyes as ours appear not faults. But where thou art not known, why, there they show Something too liberal ; pray thee, take pain To allay with some cold drops of modesty Thy skipping spirit, lest, through thy wild behavior I be misconstru’d in the place I go to, And lose my hopes. Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me. If I do not put on a sober habit, Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, Wear prayer books in my pocket, look demurely ; .Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes ( covers his face with his hat ) Thus with my hat, and sigh and say (crosses his hands on his breast and casts up his eyes), Amen ; Use all the observance of civility, Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his grandam, never trust me more. Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night ; you shall not gauge me By what we do to-night. Bass. No, that were pity; I would entreat you rather to put on Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends That purpose merriment ; but fare you well, I have some business. Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest ; But we will visit you at supper-time. Exeunt, Bassanio at r. i e., and Gratiano over the bridge to L. Enter Jessica a?id Launcelot from house at l. Jessica (coming to c.). I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so ; Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 3 2 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee. And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see Lorenzo, who is thy new master’s guest. RING lights down for change* Give him this letter ; do it secretly, And so farewell ; I would not have my father See me in talk with thee. Laun . Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful Pagan — most sweet Jew! If a Christian did not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But, adieu 1 these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit; adieu 1 Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. Exit Launcelot to r. Alack, what heinous sin is it in me To be ashamed to be my father’s child ! But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners. Oh, Lorenzo, If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, Become a Christian and thy loving wife. Exit into house , l. LIGHTS down* CHANGE set* Scene II. — Scene in one . A narrow street in another part of Venice. Perspective of narrow canal and bridge on drop in first grooves LIGHTS up* Enter at once from l. i e., Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino and Salanio. Lor. (l.). Nav we will slink away in supper-time, Disguise us at my lodging, and return All in an hour. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 33 Gra. (r.). We have not made good preparation. Salar. (r. c.). We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. Salan. (l. c.). Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly or- der’d, And better, in my mind, not undertook. Lor. ’Tis now but four o’clock ; we have two hours To furnish us. Enter Launcelot at r. i e. with a letter. Lorenzo sees him and crosses to him at once. Lor. Friend Launcelot, what’s the news ? Laun. ( offering letter). An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify. Lor. ( taking the letter). I know the hand; in faith, ’tis a fair hand, And whiter than the paper that it writ on Is the fair hand that writ. ( Goes r.) Laun. By your leave, sir. (Lorenzo reads the letter.) Lor. (to Launcelot). Whither goest thou ? Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. (. Follows Lor- enzo over to r., as if waitmg for a tip.) Gra. (coming down c. and beckoning Salanio and Salarino to follou' him; in a whisper to them). Love news, i* faith! (Gratiano comes down to l. of Launcelot a?id behind him. Salanio comes down to l. of Gratiano. Salarino re- mains up c.) Laun. (with a cough). By your leave, sir. Lor. ( reminded of Launcelot, and stuffing letter in his belt). Hold here ! take this. (Gives him a coin or ring .) Tell gen- tle Jessica I will not fail her ; speak it privately. (Launcelot bows to Lorenzo, and in so doing bumps into Gratiano, who is behind him. He backs around in fro?it of him , bowing humbly and in a wheedlbig way , as if sug- 34 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . gesting a tip , which Gratiano gives him. In bowing him- self back to l. from Gratiano he bumps into Salanio, with whom he has same business. Meanwhile Gratiano runs round behind and stands back to Launcelot as he backs away from Salanio, so that he bumps him again. This may be repeated ad libitum, intro ducmg also Salarino and Lorenzo if desired , until Launcelot begins to sus- pect the trick. Then, instead of bumpi?ig into Gratiano, who should recur for this business, he suddenly turns upon him , thrusts his tongue in his cheek , throws his cap on his head impudently , and exits l. into house. All laugh.) Lor. (r. c.). Will you prepare you for this masque to-night ? I am provided of a torch-bearer. Salar. Ay, marry, M be gone about it straight. Salan. And so will I. Lor. Meet me and Gratiano At Gratiano’s lodging some hour hence. Salar. Tis good we do so. Exeunt Salarino and Salanio at r. RING lights down for change* Gra. (r. c.). Was not that letter from fair Jessica ? Lor. (l. c.). I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed How I shall take her from her father’s house ; What gold and jewels she is furnish’d with ; What page’s suit she hath in readiness. If e’er the Jew her father come to heaven, It will be for his gentle daughter’s sake ; And never dare misfortune cross her foot Unless she do it under this excuse. That she is issue to a faithless Jew. Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest ; Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. Exeunt, r. i e. LIGHTS down* CHANGE set* THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 35 Scene III . — Same set as Scene i of this Act — night . Dark- ness on bridge and a few lights o?i canal. As scene opens , a gondola bearing four people crosses stage under bridge from L. to R., and the sound of a mandolin and low murmurs of song . Several masked people with laughter cross the bridge and go off R. and L. A moment's silence and then the door to Shylock ’s house opens and Shylock enters, followed by Launcelot. LIGHTS three-quarters down* Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio. ( Turns toward house and calls.) What, Jessica ! ( To Laun- celot.) Thou shalt not gormandize As thou hast done with me. ( Calls again.) What, Jessica ! ( To Launcelot.) And sleep and snore and rend apparel out. ( Calls again.) Why, Jessica, I say! Laun. (calling). Why, Jessica ! Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call. Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding. Enter Jessica from house . Jes. (at door). Call you? What is your will? (Comes do7vn.) Shy. (c.). I am bid forth to supper, Jessica. There are my keys. (Gives keys.) But wherefore should I go? I am not bid for love ; they flatter me. But yet I’ll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loath to go ; There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, For I did dream of money bags to-night. Laun. (r.). I beseech you, sir, go ; my young master doth expect your reproach. Shy. So do I his. Laun. And they have conspired together. I will not say you shall see a masque, but if you do, then it was not for 36 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black Monday last, at six o’clock i’ the morning, falling out that year on Ash Wednesday was four year in the afternoon. Shy. (to Launcelot). What! are there masques? (To Jessica.) Hear you me, Jessica. Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnish’d faces, But stop my house’s ears, I mean my casements ; Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter My sober house. By Jacob’s staff I swear I have no mind of feasting forth to-night ; But I will go. (To Launcelot.) Go you before me, sirrah ; Say I will come. (Crosses toward house . Jessica comes down r.) Laun. I will go before, sir. (Launcelot crosses behind Jessica and speaks over her shoulder .) Mistress, look out at window for all this ; There will come a Christian by Will be worth a Jewess’ eye. Exit Launcelot over bridge to l. Shy. What says that fool of Hagar’s offspring, ha ? Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress ; nothing else. Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder. Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day More than the wild-cat ; drones hive not with me ; Therefore I part with him ; and part with him To one that I would have him help to waste His borrow’d purse. Well, Jessica (puts his hand on her head as if in blessing) , go in ! Perhaps I will return immediately ! Do as I bid you. (Jessica goes toward house.) Shut doors after you. Fast bind, fast find ; A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. Exit Shylock, slowly, over the bridge . Jessica watches him out of sight. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 37 Jes. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost. Exit Jessica into house , l. Enter Salanio, Gratiano and Salarino from l. on bridge , encountering on bridge a group of masks. A little parley and laughter , during which time a gondola passes under the bridge from l. to r., and there are sounds of music. When that dies away the th?*ee men are left alone , laughing, on the bridge .) Gra. ( pointing to Shylock’s house). This is the pent- house under which Lorenzo Desir’d us to make stand. Salar. His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock. Salar. Oh, ten times faster Venus’ pigeons fly To seal love’s bonds new made than they are wont To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! Gra. That ever holds. Who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down ? Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures with the unbated fire That he did pace them first ? All things that are Are with more spirit chased than enjoy’d. ( They descend from the bridge. As they turn toward the house , Lorenzo enters in gondola. As he steps ashore he looks toward the window a moment. A light appears in window over door.) Salan. Here comes Lorenzo. Lor. (in a whisper). Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode ; Not I but my affairs have made you wait. When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, I’ll watch as long for you, then. Approach ; (They all approach the house , Gratiano, Salarino and Sala- nio keeping in the shade. Sounds of song heard off at r.) 38 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Here dwells my father Jew. ( Claps his hands three times and then speaks softly .) Ho ! Who’s within ? ( The window opens , and Jessica in boy's dress enters on the balco7iyl) Jes. ( leaning over the balco?iy). Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I’ll swear that I do know your tongue. Lor. Lorenzo and thy love. Jes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed ; For who love I so much ? And now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. Jes. Here, catch this casket. (Throws casket , which Lorenzo catches and passes to Gratia no.) It is worth the pains. I am glad ’tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much asham’d of my exchange ; But love is blind and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit ; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy. Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too, too light. Why, ’tis an office of discovery, love ; And I should be obscur’d. Lor. So are you, sweet, Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. But come at once ; For the close night doth play the runaway, And we are staid for at Bassanio’s feast. Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight. Exits from balcony , closing window ; light disappears . WARN curtain, Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 39 Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily, For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; And true she is, as she hath proved herself ; And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true, Shall she be placed in my constant soul. MUSIC off* {Music, during which a band of masks cross the bridge . Just before the end the door opens and Jessica appears . Lor- enzo goes to meet her at door.) What, art thou come ? (Throws his mantle about her.) On, gentlemen — away ! Our masking mates by this time for us stay. RING curtain* {They all go up steps and over the bridge amidst another burst of song , as another gondola passes under the bridge .) CURTAIN. Note. — In Henry Irving’s version , when the curtain was called on this picture , it showed Shylock, la?itern in hand , returning to his deserted house. He crossed the bridge , de- scended the steps , crossed to his door and, at first confidently, then ?iervously, rapped with the k?tocker as the curtain fell . ACT III. Scene I. — The set represents a magnificent hall in the house of Portia, at Belmont. The back of the roo?n is composed of a row of colored columns through which one sees the ter- raced garden with trees , flowers arid fountains. At l. is a sort of alcove , raised by three broad, shallow steps. This alcove, ope7iing to the audience obliquely, is magnificently draped, and within stands a sort of altar on which are placed three caskets which hold Portia’s fate . When 40 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. scene opens curtains conceal it. About the room are statues and rich furniture. As the curiam rises a procession enters from l. u. e., consisting of the followers of the Prince of Morocco and the household of Portia, who is led in by the Prince himself. Portia is followed closely by Nerissa and a group of Pages. LIGHTS full up* Morocco (at c., addressing Portia). Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadow’d livery of the burnish’d sun, To whom I am a neighbor and near bred. Bring me the fairest creature northward born, Where Phoebus’ fire scarce thaws the icicles, And let us make incision for your love, To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden’s eyes ; Besides, the lottery of my destiny Bars me the right of voluntary choosing. But if my father had not scanted me, And hedg’d me by his wit to yield myself His wife who wins me by that means I told you, Yourself, renowned Prince, then stood as fair As any comer I have looked on yet For my affection. Mor. Even for that I thank you ; Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets To try my fortune. Por. (to her Pages). Draw aside the curtains, and dis- cover The several caskets to this noble Prince. (The Pages draw back the curtain. Then Attendants group themselves as if interested. To Morocco.) Now make your choice. Mor. (bowing low over Portia’s hand, turns toward the cas- kets and slowly mounts the steps to examme them . Takes up first ). The first, of gold, who this inscription bears: THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 41 “ Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.” ( Puts it down.) (Takes up second.) The second, silver, which this promise carries : “ Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.” (Pauses , then puts it down.) (Takes up third.) This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt : “ Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” (do Portia, who has seated herself at c.) How shall I know if I do choose the right ? ¥ Por. (yvho steadfastly , with an attempt at unconcern , has watched each movement as if afraid to breathe and by that breath give him the proper cue). The one of them con- tains my picture, Prince ; If you choose that, then I am yours withal. Mor. ( turning back to caskets , still holding the leaden one in his hands). Some god direct my judgment! Let me see, I will survey th’ inscriptions back again. What says this leaden casket ? (Reads .) “ Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” ( Ponders.) Must give — for what ? For lead ? Hazard for lead ? This casket threatens. Men that hazard all Do it in hope of fair advantages ; A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; PH then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. (Puls down leaden casket.) What says the silver, with her virgin hue ? (Takes up silver casket. Reads.) “ Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.” (Re- fects.) As much as he deserves ? Pause there, Morocco, And weigh thy value with an even hand. If thou be’st rated by thy estimation, Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough May not extend so far as to the lady. As much as I deserve 1 Why, that’s the lady„ I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, In graces and in qualities of breeding ; 42 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . But more than these, in love I do deserve. What if I stray’d no further, but chose here ? Let’s see once more this saying grav’d in gold. ( Puts down silver and takes up golden casket . Heads.) “ Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.” Why, that’s the lady ; all the world desires her. From the four corners of the earth they come To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. One of these three contains her heavenly picture. Is’t like that lead contains her ? ’Twere damnation To think so base a thought ; it were too gross To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. Or shall I think in silver she’s immur’d, Being ten times undervalued to try’d gold ? Oh, sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem Was set in worse than gold. Deliver me the key ; Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! Por. (with a sigh of relief \ which she strives to conceal , takes a key from her girdle and gives it to a Page, who delivers it ceremoniously to Morocco). There, take it, Prince, and if my form lie there Then I am yours. (He unlocks the golden casket.) Mor. Oh, hell ! what have we here ! A carrion death, within whose empty eye There is a written scroll. I’ll read the writing. (Heads.) “ All that glitters is not gold, Often have you heard that told. Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold. Gilded tombs do worms enfold : Had you been as wise as bold, Young in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been inscroll’d. Fare you well ; your suit is cold.” RING lights down for change* THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 43 Cold, indeed ; and labor lost. Then, farewell heat and welcome frost. {Descending steps . Portia rises as he approaches .) Portia, adieu 1 I have too griev’d a heart To take a tedious leave ; thus losers part. ( With a low bow the Prince withdraws, followed by his suite , up r.) Por. (who watches him well out of sight ; gaily). A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. (Pages draw cur- tains and go off l.) (To Nerissa, as she throws an arm about her.) Let all of his complexion choose me so. Exit gaily down l. with Nerissa. LIGHTS down* CHANGE set* Scene II. — A narrow street in Venice. Same drop as that used for Scene 2 of Act II. Enter Salarino and Salanio in conversation , from r. LIGHTS full up. Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail ; With him is Gratiano gone along, And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not. Salan. The villain Jew with outcries rais’d the Duke, Who went with him to search Bassanio’ s ship. Salar. He came too late — the ship was under sail ; But there the Duke was given to understand That in a gondola were seen together Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica. Besides, Antonio certify’ d the Duke They were not with Bassanio in his ship. Salan. I never heard a passion so confus’d, So strange, outrageous and so variable As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : (Imitating Shylock.) “ My daughter ! Oh, my ducats ! Oh, my daughter ! Fled with a Christian ? Oh, my Christian ducats ! 44 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Justice ! the law ! my ducats and my daughter ! ” Let good Antonio look he keep his day, Or he shall pay for this. Salar. Marry, well remember’d. I reason’d with a Frenchman yesterday, who told me that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrack’d on the narrow seas, the Goodwins, I think they call the place — a very dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip report be an honest woman of her word. Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapp’d ginger or made her neighbors believe she wept for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without any slips of prolixity or crossing the plain highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio — oh, that I had a title good enough to keep his name company I Salar. Come, the full stop. Salan. Ha? what say’st thou? Why, the end is he hath lost a ship. Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses ! Salan. Let me say Amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer ; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. Enter Shylock, r., in a state of intense exciteme?it. Salanio and Salarino pass to l. How now, Shylock ? What news among the merchants ? Shy. (at c.). You knew — none so well, none so well as you — of my daughter’s flight. Salar. ( railmg ). That’s certain; I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal. Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledg’d; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam. Shy. She is damn’d for it. Salar. 'That’s certain, if the devil may be her judge. Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! Salar. Tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no ? Shy. There I have another bad match ; a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto ; a THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 45 beggar, that used to come so smug upon the mart. Let him look to his bond. He was wont to call me usurer ; let him look to his bond. He was wont to lend money for a Chris- tian courtesy ; let him look to his bond. Salar. Why, I am sure if he forfeit thou wilt not take his flesh. What’s that good for ? Sky. To bait fish withal ; if it will feed nothing else it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me and hindered me half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies ; and what’s his reason ? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes ? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same summer and winter, as a Christian is ? If you prick us, do we not bleed ? If you tickle us, do we not laugh ? If you poison us, do we not die ? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Chris- tian, what is his humility ? Revenge ! If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example ? Why, revenge ! The villainy you teach me I will execute ; and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction. Salan. Here comes another of the tribe ; a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. Exeunt Salanio and Salarino at l. Enter Tubal at r. Shylock goes to meet him and comes to c. with him . Shy. How now, Tubal? what news from Genoa? Hast thou found my daughter ? Tubal. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her. Shy. ( sobbing between rage and grie/). Why, there, there, there, there ! A diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort ! The curse never fell upon our nation till now ; I never felt it till now. Two thousand ducats in that ; and other precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter were 4 6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. dead at my foot and the jewels in her ear ! Would she were hears’d at my foot and the ducats in her coffin 1 No news of them ? Why so — and I know not what’s spent in the search. Why, thou — loss upon loss ! The thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief ; and no satisfaction, no revenge ; nor no ill luck stirring but what lights o’ my shoulders ; no sighs but o’ my breathing ; no tears but o’ my shedding. Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too; Antonio, as I heard in Genoa — Shy. (eagerly). What, what, what? Ill luck, ill luck ? Tub. — hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. Shy. (raising his clenched hands to Heaven). I thank God, I thank God ! (To Tubal.) Is it true, is it true ? Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wrack. Shy. (with hands on Tubal’s shoulders'). I thank thee, good Tubal! Good news, good news. Ha! ha! Where? In Genoa ? Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night, fourscore ducats. Shy. (changing to rage). Thou stick’st a dagger in me ! I shall never see my gold again. Fourscore ducats at a sit- ting ! Fourscore ducats I Tub. There came divers of Antonio’s creditors in my company in Venice that swear he cannot choose but break. Shy. (in wicked glee). I am very glad of it; I’ll plague him ; I’ll torture him ; I am glad of it. Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had of your daughter for a monkey. Shy. (sobbing hi rage). Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal. It was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor. I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys. Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. RING lights down for change* Shy. ( with glee). Nay, that’s true, that’s very true. Go, Tubal, fee me an officer, bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the heart of him if he forfeit ; for were he out of THE MERCHANT OF VENICE , 47 Venice I can make what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue ; go, good Tubal ; at our synagogue, Tubal. Exeunt, Tubal at r., and Shylock, in great excitement , at l. LIGHTS down, CHANGE set. Scene III. — Same set as Scene i of this Act , The stage is crowded with the followers of Portia and Bassanio and his friends , The curtain before the caskets is already raised, Portia is at c. Bassanio stands in front of her. At r. are Gratiano and Nerissa, in conversation half serious half jocose, LIGHTS full up Bass, (to Portia). I am enjoined by oath to observe three things : First, never to unfold to anyone Which casket ’twas I chose ; next, if I fail Of the right casket, never in my life To woo a maid in way of marriage ; lastly, If I do fail in fortune of my choice, Immediately to leave you and be gone. Por. To these injunctions everyone doth swear That comes to hazard for my worthless self. Bass. And so have I addressed me. Fortune now To my heart’s hope ! Por. I pray you, tarry ; pause a day or two Before you hazard ; for in choosing wrong I lose your company ; therefore forbear a while. There’s something tells me (but it is not love) I would not lose you ; and you know yourself Hate counsels not in such a quality ; But lest you should not understand me well (And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought), I would detain you here some month or two Before you venture for me. I could teach you How to choose right, but then I am forsworn ; 48 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. So will I never be ; so may you miss me ; But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, They have overlooked me and divided me ; One-half of me is yours, the other half yours — Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours. I speak too long ; but ’tis to peize the time * To eke it, and to draw it out in length, To stay you from election. Bass. Let me choose ; For as I am I live upon the rack ; ( A ll move away.) So let me to my fortune and the caskets. Por. Away then. I am locked in one of them ; If you do love me you will find me out. (Bassanio goes to l. Portia tur?is toward Nerissa.) Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. (To a Page.) Let music sound while he doth make his choice. (Page goes off back. Music.) Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, Fading in music. That the comparison May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream And wat’ry death-bed for him. (Bassanio mounts steps to caskets and examines them.) (. A Song, whilst Bassanio comme?its 071 the caskets to himself l ) Tell me, where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head ? How begot, how nourished ? Reply, reply. It is engender’d in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy’s knell ; I’ll begin it — Ding, dong, bell. All. Ding, dong, bell. Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves ; The world is still deceiv’d with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 49 But, being season’d with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil ? In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word, The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee. (Portia covers her*face with her hands.) Nor none of thee, thou stale and common drudge ’Tween man and man; but thou, thou meagre lead, Which rather threat’nest than dost promise aught, Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence. And here choose I ; joy be the consequence ! Por. ( rising erect). How all the other passions fleet to air, As doubtful thoughts and rash embrac’d despair, And shudd’ring fear and green-ey’d jealousy ! Ch, love ! (pressing both hands over her heart) be moder- ate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rein thy joy, scant this excess ; I feel too much thy blessing, make it less, For fear I surfeit ! (Gives key to Page, who takes it to Bass a- nio.) Bass, (opening casket). What find I here ? Fair Portia’s counterfeit ! Here is the scroll, The continent and summary of my fortune. (Heads.) “ You that choose not by the view, Chance as fair and choose as true 1 Since this fortune falls to you, Be content and seek no new. If you be well pleased with this, And hold your fortune for your bliss, Turn you where your lady is And ckaim her with a loving kiss.” A gentle scroll. (Descends steps and crosses quickly to Portia.) Fair lady, by your leave 5 ° THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. I come by note to give and to receive, As doubtful whether what I see be true, Until confirm’d, sign’d, ratified by you. {Kisses her.) Por. {moving away from him after a momenfs pause to re- cover herself ). You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, Such as I am ; though for myself alone I would not be ambitious in my wish, To wish myself much better ; yet for you I would be trebled twenty times myself ; A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich ; That only to stand high in your account, I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, Exceed account. But the full sum of me Is sum of something ; which, to term in gross, Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractis’d : Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn ; happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king. Myself and what is mine to you and yours Is now converted ; but now I was the lord Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, Queen o’er myself ; and even now, but now, This house, these servants and this same myself Are yours, my lord ; I give them with this ring {takes ring from her finger) ; Which when you part from, lose or give away, Let it presage the ruin of your love, And be my vantage to exclaim on you. {Places it on his. hand.) Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words ; Only my blood speaks to you in my veins. But when this ring Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence ; Oh, then be bold to say, Bassanio’s dead. Ner. {who, during the scene between Portia and Bassanio, has been following it with Gratiano in a sort of pantomime imitation of the same , giving to Gratiano a ring as Por- THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 5 1 tia has given to Bassanio, now steps forward to l. c., with Gratiano a few paces behind her). My lord and lady, it is now our time, That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper, To cry good joy ; good joy, my lord and lady ! Gra. (r.). My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; For I am sure you can wish none from me. And when your honors mean to solemnize The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, Even at that time I may be married too. Bass. (l. c.). With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. Gra. I thank your lordship ; you have got me one. My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid. ( Giving his hand to Nerissa.) You lov’d, I lov’d ; for intermission No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. Your fortune stood upon the caskets there; And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; For wooing here until I sweat again ; And swearing till my very roof was dry With oaths of love, at last — if promise last — I got a promise of this fair one here To have her love, provided that your fortune Achiev'd her mistress. Por. Is this true, Nerissa? Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas’d withal. Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? Gra. Yes, ’faith, my lord. Bass, Our feast shall be much honor’d in your marriage. Gra. ( looking off, up l.). But who comes here ? Lorenzo and his infidel ? What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio? Enter Salanio, followed by Lorenzo and Jessica, from l. back over terrace . Bass. ( going uf). Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither ! If that the youth of my new interest here Have power to bid you welcome. (Zb Portia.) By your leave, S 2 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . I bid my very friends and countrymen, Sweet Portia, welcome. (Coming down ; Jessica remains up l.) Por. (c.). So do I, my lord. They are entirely welcome. Lor. (l.). I thank your honor. For my part, my lord, My purpose was not to have seen you here ; But meeting with Salanio by the way, He did entreat me past all saying nay To come with him along. Salan. (l. c.). I did, my lord, And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio Commends him to you. ( Gives Bassanio a letter.) Bass, (to Salanio). Ere I ope his letter, I pray you tell me how my good friend doth. Salan. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; Nor well, unless in mind ; his letter there Will show you his estate. (Bassanio goes r. and opens letter.) Gra. (r.). Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome. (Nerissa joi?is Jessica ; Gratiano crosses to Salanio.) Your hand, Salanio ; what’s the news from Venice ? How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? I know he will be glad of our success ; We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. Salan. ’Would you had won the fleece that he hath lost ! Por. (watching Bassanio’s emotion as he reads letter ). There are some shrewd contents in yon’ same paper That steal the color from Bassanio’s cheek. Some dear friend dead, else nothing in the world Could turn so much the constitution Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ? (Approaches Bassanio a?id places her hand on his shoulder i) With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself, And I must freely have the half of anything That this same paper brings you. Bass. Oh, sweet Portia, Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . S3 That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady, When I did first impart my love to you, I freely told you all the wealth I had Ran in my veins — I was a gentleman ; And then I told you true. And yet, dear lady, Rating myself at nothing, you shall see How much I was a braggart. When I told you My state was nothing, I should then have told you That I was worse than nothing ; for, indeed, I have engag’d myself to a dear friend, Engag’d my friend to his mere enemy, To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady, The paper as the body of my friend, And every word in it a gaping wound Issuing life-blood. ( Turning to Salanio. Returning to c. with Portia.) But is it true, Salanio ? Have all his ventures fail’d ? (Salanio nods affirmation .) What, not one hit ? From Tripolis, from Mexico and England, From Lisbon, Barbary and India? And not one vessel ’scape the dreadful touch Of merchant-marring rocks ? Salan. (l.). Not one, my lord. Besides, it should appear that if he had The present money to discharge the Jew, He would not take it. Never did I know A creature that did bear the shape of man So keen and greedy to confound a man. He plies the Duke at morning and at night, And doth impeach the freedom of the state, If they deny him justice ; twenty merchants, The Duke himself and the magnificoes Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him, But none can drive him from the envious plea Of forfeiture, of justice and his bond. Jes. ( coming doivn r. with Nerissa). When I was with him, I have heard him swear To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh Than twenty times the value of the sum That he did owe him ; and I know, my lord, 54 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . If law, authority and power deny not, It will go hard with poor Antonio. Por. (c.). Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? Bass. (l. c.). The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, The best condition’d and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies ; and one in whom The ancient Roman honor more appears Than any that draws breath in Italy. Por. What sum owes he the Jew ? Bass. For me, three thousand ducats. Por. What, no more? Pay him six thousand and deface the bond ; Double six thousand and then treble that, Before a friend of this description Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault. First go with me to church and call me wife, And then away to Venice to your friend ; For never shall you stay by Portia’s side With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold To pay the petty debt twenty times over ; When it is paid, bring your true friend along. My maid Nerissa and myself meantime Will live as maids and widows. Come, away ! For you shall hence upon your wedding-day. Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer ; Since you are dear bought I will love you dear. But let me hear the letter of your friend. RING lights down for change* Bass, (reads). “ Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all mis- carried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit ; and since in paying it it is impos- sible I should live, all debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure ; if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.” Por. Oh, love ! Despatch all business and be gone ! Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, I will make haste ; but till I come again No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay, Nor rest be interposer ’twixt us twain. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 55 Exeunt Portia and Bassanio up r., followed by Gratiano and Nerissa, leading Salanio, Lorenzo and Jessica, Pages and the entire train . LIGHTS down* CHANGE set* Scene IV. — A street in Venice . Same as that used for Scene 2 in Acts II and III \ LIGHTS up* Enter Shylock, Salanio, Antonio and Gaoler from r. Shy. (c.). Gaoler, look to him ; tell not me of mercy. This is the fool that lent out money gratis ; Gaoler, look to him. Ant. {up r. c.). Hear me yet, good Shylock. Shy. I’ll have my bond ; speak not against my bond ; I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. Thou calPdst me dog before thou hadst a cause ; But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs. The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request. Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. Shy. I’ll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak ; I’ll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. I’ll not be made a soft and dull-ey’d fool, To shake the hand, relent, and sigh, and yield To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; I’ll have no speaking ; I will have my bond. Exit Shylock, l. Salan. (l.). It is the most impenetrable cur That ever kept with men. Ant. (c.). Let him alone; I’ll follow him no more with bootless prayers. He seeks my life ; his reasons well I know. I oft deliver’d from his forfeitures Many that have at times made moan to me ; Therefore he hates me. 56 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Salan. I am sure the Duke Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. Ant. The Duke cannot deny the course of law ; For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice, if it be denied, Will much impeach the justice of the state ; RING lights down iot change* Since that the trade and profit of the city Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go. These griefs and losses have so ’bated me That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh To-morrow to my bloody creditor. Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come To see me pay his debt, and then I care not! Exeunt, l. LIGHTS down* CHANGE set* Scene V. — The home of Portia at Belmont . Lofty room with antique furniture. Large and massive carved table up l. c., with huge , carved , straight-backed chair with heavy arms. Similar chairs about room , which is hung with tapestry . LIGHTS up* (Portia is discovered at table with Nerissa leaning on back of her chair, and Balthazar standing before her. Lorenzo and Jessica are together down r. c.) Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, You have a noble and a true conceit Of godlike amity, which appears most strongly In bearing thus the absence of your lord. But if you knew to whom you show this honor, How true a gentleman you send relief, How dear a lover of my lord your husband, I know you would be prouder of the work Than customary bounty can enforce you. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 57 Por. I never did repent for doing good, Nor shall not now. This comes too near the praising of myself ! Therefore, no more of it ; hear other things, Lorenzo, I commit into your hands The husbandry and manage of my house Until my lord’s return. My people do already know my mind, And will acknowledge you and Jessica In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. So fare you well till we shall meet again. Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you. Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart’s content. Por. I thank you for your wish and am well pleas’d To wish it back on you ; fare you well, Jessica. Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo up r. c. (As soon as they are off Portia rises , and sitting on arm of her chair , speaks hurriedly to servant .) Now, Balthazar, As I have ever found thee honest, true, So let me find thee still. Take this same letter (gives him a letter ), And use thou all the endeavor of a man In speed to Padua ; see thou render this Into my cousin’s hand, Doctor Bellario ; And look what notes and garments he doth give thee. Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin’d speed Unto the traject, to the common ferry Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, But get thee gone. I shall be there before thee. Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. Exit down l Por. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand That you yet know not of ; we’ll see our husbands Before they think of us. WARN curtain. 58 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Ner. Shall they see us ? Por. They shall, Nerissa. IT1 hold thee any wager, When we are both accoutred like young men, I’ll prove the prettier fellow of the two, And wear my dagger with the braver grace ; And speak, between the change of man and boy, With a reed voice ; and turn two mincing steps Into a manly stride ( strides down r. with a mannish gaif), and speak of frays Like a line bragging youth ; and tell quaint lies ( stroking a?i imaginary moustache with one hand ; other hand as if on hilt of sword ) — How honorable ladies sought my love, Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; I could not do withal ; then I’ll repent, And wish, for all that, that I had not kill’d them. {Laugh- ing gaily .) But, come. ( Giving her hand to Nerissa.) I’ll tell thee all my whole device When I am in my coach, which stays for us At the park gate ; and therefore haste away, For we must measure twenty miles to-day. Exeunt hurriedly . RING quick curtain* QUICK CURTAIN. ACT IV. Scene. — Court of f ustic e in the Ducal Palace at Venice. A large room with painted ceiling and walls . Along the L. wall a raised platform on which is the Duke’s seat and those of the Council of Venice . It is approached by half a dozen carpeted steps , the carved seats being placed against the walls like stalls in a church choir . In the r. wall of the room the entrances . Across the back is a barrier of carved wood , and behind is a crowd of the Venetian pop a- THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 59 lace in picturesque dress . Dcwn l. c. is a wide flat-topped desk 07i which are books , and behmd it, facing the audience, is seated the Clerk. Two low broad-backed chairs are beside the table, and a stool. Guards at door and up stage to keep populace in order. 0?i table are bags of money. At the rise of curtain Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano a?id Salarino are already on the stage, down at extreme l., in conversation. A flourish of trumpets , and the Duke enters with his tram. As he crosses the stage all bow before him. He moimts the platform and seats himself, the Council tak- ing its place on either side of him. Gratiano and Salar- ino cross to R. LIGHTS full tip. Duke. What, is Antonio here ? Ant. ( stepping forward, facing Duke). Ready, so please Your Grace. Duke (to Antonio). I am sorry for thee ; thou art come to answer A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, Incapable of pity, void and empty From any dram of mercy. Ant. I have heard Your Grace hath ta’en great pains to qualify His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful means can carry me Out of his envy’s reach, I do oppose My patience to his fury ; and am arm’d To suffer with a quietness of spirit The very tyranny and rage of his. Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. (Guard opens door at r.) Salan. He is ready at the door. He comes, my lord. Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face. (Antonio steps back beside Bassanio.) Enter Shylock. The Duke, studies him as he crosses to c., facmg him. The populace push a?id crowd to see him. 6o THE MERCHANT OF VENICE , Duke. Shylock, the world thinks — and I think so, too That thou but lead’st this fashion of thy malice To the last hour of act; and then, ’tis thought Thou’lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange Than is thy strange apparent cruelty. And where thou now exact’st the penalty (Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh), Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture But, touch’d with human gentleness and love, Forgive a moiety of the principal ; Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, That have of late so huddled on his back — Enough to press a royal merchant down And pluck commiseration of his state From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train’d To offices of tender courtesy. We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. Shy. (c.). I have possess’d Your Grace of what I purpo And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn To have the due and forfeit of my bond. If you deny it, let the danger light Upon your charter and your city’s freedom. You’ll ask me why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion flesh than to receive Three thousand ducats ? I’ll not answer that, But say it is my humor. Is it answer’d ? W 7 hat if my house be troubled with a rat, And I be pleas’d to give ten thousand ducats To have it baned ? What, are you answer’d yet ? Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; Some that are mad if they behold a cat. Now for your answer : As there is no firm reason to be render’d Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ; Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; So can I give no reason, nor I will not, More than a lodg’d hate and a certain loathing I bear Antonio, that I follow thus A losing suit against him. Are you answer’d ? Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, To excuse the current of thy cruelty. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 61 Shy. (to Bassanio). I am not bound to please thee with my answer. Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love ? Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ? Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. Shy. What ! wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice ? Ant. (placing his hand on Bassanio’s shoulder to restrain hint). I pray you think — you question with the Jew ; You may as well go stand upon the beach And bid the main flood bate its usual height ; You may as well use question with the wolf Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; You may as well forbid the mountain pines To wag their high tops and to make no noise When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven ; You may as well do anything most hard As seek to soften that (than which what’s harder ?) His Jewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you Make no more offers, use no further means, But, with all brief and plain conveniency, Let me have judgment and the Jew his will. Bass, (to Shylock). For thy three thousand ducats here is six. (Approachmg desk and placing his hands on the bags of coin therei) Shy. ( facmg Bassanio, as he speaks slowly and emphati- cally , tapping the bags with his knife , which he draws fro?n his girdle). If every ducat in six thousand ducats Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. Duke (to Shylock). How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend’ring none ? Shy. (facing the Duke). What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong ? You have among you many a purchas’d slave Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, You use in abject and in slavish parts Because you bought them. Shall I say to you, Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? Why sweat they under burdens ? Let their beds Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 62 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Be season’d with such viands ? You will answer, The slaves are ours. So do I answer you. The pound of flesh which I demand of him Is dearly bought ; ? tis mine and I will have it. If you deny me, fie upon your law ! There is no force in the decrees of Venice. I stand for judgment. Answer ; shall I have it ? Duke. Upon my power, I may dismiss this court Unless Bellario, a learned doctor Whom I have sent for to determine this, Come here to-day. (Guard enters and whispers to Salarino.) Salar. (stepping forward}. My lord, here stays without A messenger with letters from the doctor, New come from Padua. Duke. Bring us the letters. Call the messenger. Exit Salarino at r. Bass, (both hands on Antonio’s shoulders'). Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man ? Courage yet ! The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all, Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit Droops earliest to the ground, and so let me. You cannot better be employ’d, Bassanio, Than to live still and write mine epitaph. Enter Salarino at r., showing in Nerissa, dressed like a law- yer’s clerk. Nerissa crosses to Duke. Duke (to Nerissa). Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? Ner. (at foot of steps ; bows). From both, my lord. Bella- rio greets Your Grace. (Presents a letter .) (During this scene, while Duke reads letter , Shylock whets his knife on the sole of his boot.) THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 63 Bass. (l.). Why does thou whet thy knife so earnestly? Shy. (c.). To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there. Gra. (r.). Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, Thou mak’st thy knife keen ; but no metal can — No, not the hangman’s axe — bear half the keenness Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee ? Shy. No ; none that thou hast wit enough to make. Gra. Oh, be thou damn’d, inexorable dog 1 And for thy life let justice be accus’d. Thou almost mak’st me waver in my faith, To hold opinion with Pythagoras, That souls of animals infuse themselves Into the trunks of men ; thy currish spirit Govern’d a wolf, who, hang’d for human slaughter, Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, And whilst thou lay’st in thy unhallow’d dam, Infus’d itself in thee ; for thy desires Are wolfish, bloody, starv’d and ravenous. Shy. ( still whetting his knife'). Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond ( taps the bond at his belt with knife ), Thou but offend’st thy lungs to speak so loud. Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall To cureless ruin. (Rises l) I stand here for law. Bass, (finishing letter). This letter from Bellario doth commend A young and learned doctor to our court. (To Nerissa.) Where is he? Ner. He attendeth here hard by To know your answer, whether you’ll admit him. Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you Go give him courteous welcome to this place. Exeunt Salarino and Gratiano at r. Meantime, the court shall hear Bellario’s letter. (Duke passes letter to Clerk, who rises in his place behind table and reads.) Clerk. “Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick, but in the instant that your 6 4 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the cause of controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant. We turned o’er many books together. He is furnish’d with my opinion, which, better’d with his own learning (the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend), comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up Your Grace’s request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation ; for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation.” Duke. You hear the learned Bellario what he writes ; And here, I take it, is the doctor come. Re-enter Salarino and Gratiano, conducting Portia, dressed as a Doctor of Law , in red robe and cap . She crosses to Duke and mounts steps to take the hand he offers . Give me your hand. Came you from old Bellario ? Por. I did, my lord. Duke. You are welcome ; take your place. Are you acquainted with the difference That holds this present question in the court ? (Portia steps to seat at r. of table, c. Nerissa blaces books on table and sits on stool.) Por. ( sits c.). I am informed thoroughly of the cause. Which is the merchant here and which the Jew ? Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. (Shylock steps forward r. c. and faces Portia. Antonio at l. c.) Por. {to Shylock). Is your name Shylock ? Shy. Shylock is my name. Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; Yet in such rule that the Venetian law Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. (To Antonio.) You stand within his danger, do you not? THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 65 Ant. Ay ; so he says. Por. Do you confess the bond ? Ant. I do. Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. Shy. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that. Por. (rising). The quality of mercy is not strain’d ; It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, Upon the place beneath. It is twice bless’d : It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. ’Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown. His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings, But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself ; And earthly power doth then show likest God’s, When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this — That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much To mitigate the justice of thy plea, Which, if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence ’gainst the merchant there. Shy. My deeds upon my head. I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond. Por. Is he not able to discharge the money ? Bass, (stepping forward to table and showing money bags . Portia gives him a quizzical look as he faces Shylock). Yes ; here I tender’ t for him in the court — Yea, twice the sum ; if that will not suffice, I will be bound to pay it ten times o’er, On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart. (Portia arches her eyebrows , then turns calmly to Shylock to conceal the movement?) If this will not suffice, it must appear That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, 66 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE , Wrest once the law to your authority ; To do a great right, do a little wrong ; And curb this cruel devil of his will. Por. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established ; ’Twill be recorded for a precedent, And many an error, by the same example, Will rush into the state. It cannot be. Shy. {gloating over Bassanio;. A Daniel come to judg- ment ! Yea, a Daniel ! {Approaching Portia and kissing her rob el) Oh, wise young judge, how do I honor thee ! Por. {to Shylock). I pray you, let me look upon the bond. Shy. {servilely taking it from his breast ; as he carefully but eagerly u?ifolds it). Here ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. {Gives it to Portia and rubs his hands l) Por. ( taking it , but addressing Shylock before looking at the bond), Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offer’d thee. Shy. {still rubbing his hands). An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven. Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ? No ! not for Venice ! Por. {slowly turns her eyes to the bond). Why, this bond is forfeit ; And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant's heart. {To Shylock.) Be merci- ful ! Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. Shy. {quickly, as Portia makes a movement to do so, prevent- ing her). When it is paid according to the tenor. It doth appear you are a worthy judge ; You know the law ; your exposition Hath been most sound ; I charge you by the law, Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, Proceed to judgment ; by my soul, I swear There is no power in the tongue of man To alter me. I stay here on my bond. Ant. (l.). Most heartily I do beseech the court To give the judgment. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 67 Por. Why, then, thus it is. (To Antonio.) You must prepare your bosom for his knife. (Antonio, in spite of Bassanio’s tears, opens the neck of his doublet.) Shy. Oh, noble judge ! Oh, excellent young man ! Por. For the intent and purpose of the law Hath full relation to the penalty, Which here appeareth due upon the bond. Shy. ? Tis very true. Oh, wise and upright judge ! How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! Por. (to Antonio). Therefore, lay bare thy bosom. (Antonio does so.) Shy. Ay, his breast, So says the bond. Doth it not, noble judge ? (Pointing to words in the bond with point of his knife l) Near- est his heart. (Knife on the words.) Those are the very words. Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh The flesh ? Shy. ( taking a balance from his breast ; movement of excite- ment in the populace and of disgust among other characters). I have them ready. Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. Shy. (looking at bond). Is it so nominated in the bond ? Por. It is not so expressed ; but what of that ? ’Twas good you do so much for charity. Shy. (still examining bond). I cannot find it; ’tis not in the bond. Por. (to Antonio). Come, merchant, have you anything to say ? Ant. But little ; I am arm’d and well prepar’d. Give me your hand, Bassanio. (Takes both Bassanio’s ha?ids. The latter tries vainly to master himself. Portia watches them keenly , Shylock with impatience). Fare you well 1 Grieve not that I have fall’n to this for you, 68 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . For herein fortune shows herself more kind Than is her custom ; it is still her use To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance Of such a misery does she cut me off. Commend me to your honorable wife. Tell her the process of Antonio’s end; Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death. And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge Whether Bassanio had not once a love. Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, And he repents not that he pays your debt ; For if the Jew do cut but deep enough I’ll pay it instantly with all my heart. Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife Which is as dear to me as life itself ; But life itself, my wife and all the world, Are not with me esteem’d above thy life. I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all, Here to this devil to deliver you. (Portia coughs and wipes her mouth with her handkerchief to conceal a smile.) Gra. I have a wife whom, I protest, I love. (Nerissa turns quite round to examine him as he speaks .) I would she were in heaven, so she could Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. (Nerissa laughs and chokes to conceal it.) Shy. (aside). These be the Christian husbands ! I have a daughter — ’Would any of the stock of Barrabas Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! (To Portia.) We trifle time. I pray thee, pursue sentence. Por. (to Shylock). A pound of that same merchant’s flesh is thine ; The court awards it and the law doth give it. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 69 Shy. Most rightful judge ! Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast ; The law allows it and the court awards it. Shy. Most learned judge ! A sentence — come, prepare. ( Approaches Antonio with his knife in his hand. Antonio bares his breast. Portia steps between thein .) Por. Tarry a little. There is something else. ( Pause of surprise .) This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; The words expressly are, a pound of flesh. Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods Are by the laws of Venice confiscate Unto the state of Venice. (Shylock falls back. Bassanio grasps Antonio by the shoulders . Gratiano and Salanio burst into laughter. The populace shows excitement and is calmed by Guards.) Gra. ( imitating Shylock’s ma?mer earlier in the scene). Oh, upright judge ! (. Mockingly to Shylock.) Mark, Jew — oh, learned judge ! Shy. ( dismayed ; to Portia). Is that the law? Por. (to Shylock, as she turns over pages of a book Ner- issa gives her). Thyself shall see the act ; For, as thou urgest justice, be assur’d Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. Gra. (mockingly). Oh, learned judge! Mark, Jew — -a learned judge ! Shy. I take this offer, then ; pay the bond thrice, And let the Christian go. Bass, (picking up bags). Here is the money. Por. (waving him back). Stop ! The Jew shall have all justice — soft! no haste; He shall have nothing but the penalty. Gra. Oh, Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judgfe 1 Por. (to Shylock). Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 7o THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more, But just a pound of flesh. If thou tak’st more Or less than a just pound — be it but so much As makes it light or heavy in the substance Or the division of the twentieth part Of one poor scruple ; nay, if the scale do turn But in the estimation of a hair — Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. Por. Why doth the Jew pause ? Take thy forfeiture. Shy. (to Bassanio). Give me my principal and let me go. Bass, (to Shylock). I have it ready for thee ; here it is. Por. (to Bassanio). He hath refus’d it in the open court. He shall have merely justice and his bond. Gra. A Daniel, still say I ; a second Daniel ! I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. Shy. (to Portia). Shall I not have barely my principal ? Por. (to Shylock). Thou shalt have nothing but the for- feiture, To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. Shy. Why, then, the devil give him good of it 1 I’ll stay no longer question* (Angrily starts to go to R.) Por. Tarry, Jew. (Shylock turns l) The law hath yet another hold on you. It is enacted in the laws of Venice (turning leaves of book). If it be prov’d against an alien That by direct or indirect attempts He seek the life of any citizen, The party ’gainst the which he doth contrive Shall seize one-half his goods ; the other half Comes to the privy coffer of the state, And the offender’s life lies in the mercy Of the Duke only, ’gainst all other voice. In which predicament, I say, thou stand’st; For it appears by manifest proceeding, That, indirectly and directly too, Thou hast contriv’d against the very life THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 7 1 Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr’d The danger formerly by me rehears’d. Down, therefore and beg mercy of the Duke. (As Shylock is about to fall to his knees Gratiano seizes him by shoulders and holds him up.) Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself. And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; Therefore thou must be hang’d at the state’s charge. (Lets Shylock fall to his knees.) Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it. For half thy wealth it is Antonio’s ; The other half comes to the general state, Which humbleness may drive into a fine. Por. Ay, for the state ; not for Antonio. Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that. You take my house when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house ; you take my life When you do take the means whereby I live. Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? Gra. (to Antonio). A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God’s sake ! Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court, To quit the fine for one-half of his goods I am content, so he will let me have The other half in use, to render it Upon his death unto the gentleman That lately stole his daughter. Two things provided more — that for this favor ] He presently become a Christian ; The other, that he do record a gift, Here in the court, of all he dies possess’d, Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant The pardon that I late pronounced here. Por. (to Shylock). Art thou contented, Jew? What dost thou say ? Shy. I am content. 72 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Por. (to Clerk). Clerk, draw a deed of gift. Shy. (rises from his knees). I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; I am not well ; send the deed after me And I will sign it. Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. (Shylock turns to go off r.) Gra. (plucking him by the sleeve ). In christening thou shalt have two godfathers ; Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, To bring thee to the gallows, not to the font. Exit Shylock at r., hooted by crowd. Duke (rising a?id descending steps to Portia). Sir, I en- treat you home with me to dinner. Por. (to Duke, as they cross stage together). I humbly do desire Your Grace of pardon ; I must away this night toward Padua. And it is meet I presently set forth. Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. Antonio, gratify this gentleman ; For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. Portia and Duke salitte one another. Exeunt, at r., Duke and Council. The populace go off slowly at back , pushing and chaffing. Bassanio and Antonio, at l., ap- proach Portia, who is at c. Gratiano and Salanjo talk with Nerissa, who crosses to r. c. Portia covers her mouth with her handkerchief as Bassanio approaches her , and struts a bit with a thumb in the arm- size of her robe. Bass. (l. c.). Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, We freely cope your courteous pains withal. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 73 Ant. (l.). And stand indebted, over and above, In love and service to you evermore. Por. (c.). He is well paid that is well satisfied; And I, delivering you, am satisfied, And therein do account myself well paid ; My mind was never yet more mercenary. (To Bassanio, who eyes her curiously .) I pray you, know me when we meet again ; I wish you well, and so I take my leave. (Starts to go r.) Bass, (detaining her). Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further Take some remembrance of us as a tribute. Not as a fee ; grant me two things, I pray you — Not to deny me, and to pardon me. Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. (To Antonio.) Give me (pauses as if seeking something to ask for ; sees his gloves) your gloves. (Antonio gives them with a laugh). Fll wear them for your sake, And for your love. (To Bassanio, as if suddenly seeing the ring she had given him in the previous act) I ’ll take this ring from you. (Bassanio suddenly draws back his hand) Do not draw back your hand ; Fll take no more ; And you in love shall not deny me this. Bass. This ring, good sir— alas, it is a trifle. I will not shame myself to give you this. Por. I will have nothing else but only this ; And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. Bass. There’s more depends on this than on the value. The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, And find it out by proclamation ; Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. Por. (shrugging her shoulders). I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now, methinks, You teach me how a beggar should be answer’d. 74 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Bass, {frankly). Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; And when she put it on she made me vow That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. For. (curling her /if). That ’scuse serves many men to save their gifts. And if your wife be not a mad woman, And know how well I have deserv’d this ring, WARN curtain* She would not hold out enemy forever For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! ( Waves her hand carelessly .) Exeunt Portia and Nerissa at r. Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring ; Let his deservings and my love withal Be valued ’gainst your wife’s commandment. Bass, (gives ring to Gratiano). Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst, Unto Antonio’s house. Away 1 make haste 1 Exit Gratiano at r. (To Antonio.) Come, you and I will thither presently, And in the morning early will we both Fly toward Belmont. Come, Antonio. RING quick curtain* Exeunt, at r. QUICK CURTAIN, THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 75 ACT V. Scene. — The garden of Portia’s house at Belmont. At r., broad etitrance to the house is visible , approached by a stately flight of steps and portico. Dim lights within. At back , diagonally across the upper half of stage , a terrace with a stone balustrade from which stone steps descend to stage . On the terrace , amidst tall urns of flowers , plays a foun- tain. {.Down r. c., a lo7v stone seat on which Jessica is seated with Lorenzo at her feet. Music as the curtain rises and for a few seconds after it is up.) MOONLIGHT on set. MUSIC at n se. Lor. The moon shines bright — in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise — in such a night. Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls And sigh’d his soul toward the Grecian tents Where Cressid lay that night. Jes. In such a night Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew, And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself, And ran dismay’d away. Lor. In such a night Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, And with an un thrift love did run from Venice As far as Belmont. Jes. And in such a night Did young Lorenzo swear he lov’d her well ; Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, And ne’er a true one. Lor. And in such a night Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 7 6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Jes. I would out-night you, did nobody come, But, hark ! ( They listen .) I hear the footing of a man. (Lorenzo rises and Stephano appears on terrace .) Lor. (at c.). Who comes so fast in silence of the night t Stephano. A friend. Lor. A friend ? What friend ? Your name, I pray you, friend ? Steph. Stephano is my name, and I bring word My mistress will before the break of day Be here at Belmont. I pray you, is my master yet return’d ? (Jessica rises and comes to c. to Lorenzo. Stephano comes downl) Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, And ceremoniously let us prepare Some welcome for the mistress of the house. ( Gives his hand to Jessica. They go to l. and are about to enter, when the voice of Launcelot is heard off r.) Laun. (within). Sola, sola! Wo, ha, ho! Sola, sola! Lor. Who calls ? Enter Launcelot on terrace . Laun. Sola! Did you see master Lorenzo and mistress Lorenzo ? Sola, sola ! Lor. Leave hollaing, man ; here. Laun. Sola ? Where ? Where ? Lor. Here. Laun. Tell him there’s a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news. My master will be here ere morning. Exit on terrace at L. Lor. (to Jessica). Sweet soul, let’s in, and there expect their coming. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 77 And yet no matter — why should we go in ? My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, Within the house your mistress is at hand. And bring your music forth into the air. Exit Stephano into house ati ,. Lorenzo and Jessica return to seat at L. C. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank I Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears ; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. (Jessica sits once more and Lorenzo sits beside her . Both gaze at the shy.) Look ! how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ; There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-ey’d cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it. MUSIC outside* Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive ; For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze By the sweet power of music. Therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods ; The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds, 7 8 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Is fit for treason, stratagems and spoils ; Let no such man be trusted. Enter quietly on terrace , Portia and Nerissa. They pause at the top of the steps . Portia points to the light within the portico of the house.) Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. Ho v/ far that little candle throws his beams I So shines a good deed in a naughty world. (As she speaks Lorenzo rises and goes up stage with Jessica.) Lor. That is the voice, Or I am much deceiv’d, of Portia. Por. (to Nerissa). He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo — By the bad voice. Lor. (laughing). Dear lady, welcome home. Por. We have been praying for our husbands’ welfare, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they returned ? (Descends with Nerissa, and gives her hand to Lorenzo, which he kisses.) Lor. Madam, they are not yet ; But there is come a messenger before To signify their coming. Por. ' Go in, Nerissa, Give order to my servants that they take No note at all of our being absent hence ; Nor you, Lorenzo — Jessica, nor you. Exit Nerissa into house at l. Lor. (r.). Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet, TRUMPET sounds off R, We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not. Por. (c.). This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick, It looks a little paler ; ’tis a day Such as a day is when the sun is hid. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 79 Enter Antonio, Bassanio, Gratiano and their followers , from r. As Bassanio descends the steps from terrace, Portia hastens to greet him. Nerissa re-enters and goes hurriedly to Gratiano, with whom she converses up l. Lorenzo and Jessica stroll on terrace . You are welcome home, my lord. Bass. {e7nhracing her). I thank you, madam ; give wel- come to my friend. (. Presenting Antonio.) This is the man — this is Antonio — To whom I am so infinitely bound. Por. {giving Antonio her hand). You should in all sense be much bound to him, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy. Gra. (whose conversatio?i with Nerissa has become very ani- mated ). By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong ; In faith, I gave it to the judge’s clerk. Por. (turning toward them). A quarrel, ho, already ? What’s the matter ? Gra. (to Portia). About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me ; whose posy was For all the world like cutler’s poetry Upon a knife, “ Love me, and leave me not.” ( Comes down L. c.) Ner. (following him). What talk you of the posy or the value ? You swore to me when I did give it you That you would wear it till your hour of death, And that it should lie with you in your grave. Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective and have kept it. Gave it a judge’s clerk ! No, Heaven’s my judge, The clerk will ne’er wear hair on’s face that had it. Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth — A kind of boy ; a little scrubbed boy, So THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . No higher than thyself ; the judge’s clerk ; A prating boy, that begg’d it as a fee ; I could not for my heart deny it him. Por. (c., to Gratiano). You were to blame — I must be plain with you — To part so slightly with your wife’s first gift ; A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. (Bassanio at r. c. conceals his hand i) I gave my love a ring, and made him swear Never to part with it. ( Turns to Bassanio.) And here he stands. I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it, Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth That the world masters. (Turning back to Gratiano.) Now, in faith, Gratiano, You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief ; An ’twere to me, I should be mad at it. Bass, (aside). Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it. Gra. (to Portia). My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begg’d it, and, indeed, Deserv’d it, too ; and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begg’d mine. And neither man nor master would take aught But the two rings. Por. (to Bassanio). What ring gave you, my lord ? Not that, I hope, which you receiv’d of me. Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault I would deny it. (Holding out his handl) But you see my finger Hath not the ring upon it ; it is gone. Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth ! By Heaven, I will ne’er come in your sight Until I see the ring. (Goes up stage r. c., holding up the hand on which is the ring.) Ner. (followmg Portia l. c., with same business ). Nor I in yours Till I again see mine. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . Bass, {following Portia on r., protesting ). Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gave the ring, If you did know for whom I gave the ring, And would conceive for what I gave the ring, And how unwillingly I left the ring, When nought would be accepted but the ring, You would abate the strength of your displeasure. Por. {coming dow?i r. c., followed by Bassanio, r.). If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honor to retain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring. What man is there so much unreasonable, If you had pleas’d to have defended it With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? Nerissa teaches me what to believe ; I’ll die for’t but some woman had the ring. Bass. No, by mine honor, madam, by my soul, No woman had it but a civil doctor, Even he that had held up the very life Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ? I was enforced to send it after him. I was beset with shame and courtesy. My honor would not let ingratitude So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady, And by these blessed candles of the night, Had you been there I think you would have begged The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. Por. {going up stage , r. c., accompanied by Nerissa, l. c., followed by Bassanio, r., and Gratiano, l.). Let not that doctor e’er come near my house ; Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, And that which you did swear to keep for me, I will become as liberal as you. I’ll not deny him anything I have. {Up stage she and Nerissa compare rings before turning to come down , still followed by Bassanio a?id Gratiano.) Ner. Nor I his clerk ; therefore be well advised How you do leave me to mine own protection. 8 2 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . (As they come down , Antonio from the extreme r., has watched the scene , to r. c., between Portia Bassanio.) Ant. (A? Portia). I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. Por. (to Antonio, pausing at c.). Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome, notwithstanding. Bass. (r.). Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong, And in the hearing of these many friends "I swear to thee, even by thine fair eyes, Wherein I see myself — Por. (c.). Mark you but that ! In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ; In each eye, one. Swear by your double self, And there’s an oath of credit. Bass. Nay, but hear me. Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear I never more will break an oath with thee. Ant. (r. c., to Portia). I once did lend my body for his wealth, Which but for him that had your husband’s ring Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound again, My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Will never more break faith advisedly. Por. (to Antonio). Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, And bid him keep it better than the other. (Takes ring from her finger and gwes it to Antonio.) Ant. (passing the /ing to Bassanio). Here, Lord Bassa- nio, swear to keep this ring. Bass, (takes the ring and places it on his ha?id; them stands amazed , looking from ring to Portia and back again . He moves to r. c. Antonio goes r., accompanying this busi- ness. Nerissa, at l. c., has given her ring to Gratiano at l.). By Heaven ! it is the same I gave the doctor. Portia ( falling on her knees in simulated tears). I had it of him ; pardon me, Bassanio. Ner. (imitating Portia’s business ). And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano ; For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor’s clerk, Did give me this. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . % Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways In summer, when the ways are fair enough. Por. {rising ; laughing ). You are all amaz’d. Here is a letter, read it at your leisure. ( Gives letter to Bassanio.) It comes from Padua, from Bellario. There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, Nerissa there, her clerk. {Seriously giving both ha?ids to An- tonio.) Antonio, you are welcome ; And I have better news in store for you Than you expect; unseal this letter soon. ( Gives him a letter.) There you shall find three of your argosies Are richly come to harbor suddenly. (Antonio goes r. to read letter .) Bass, {to Portia). Were you the doctor and I knew you not ? {Embraces her.) Gra. {to Nerissa). Were you the clerk and yet I knew you not ? {Embraces her.) Ant. {approaching Portia). Sweet lady, you have given me life and living ; WARN curtain* For here I read for certain that my ships Are safely come to road. Por. It is almost morning ; And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied Of these events at full. Let us go in, And charge us there upon inter’gatories, And we will answer all things faithfully. Exeunt slowly into house as curtain falls , Portia between Bassanio and Antonio, Gratiano and Nerissa, Lor- enzo and Jessica, following. CURTAIN. RING slow curtain* BAKER’S PLAYS OF DISTINCTION A COUPLE OF MILLION. Comedy in Four Acts. By W. B. Hare. 6 m., 5 w. Scenery, 2 ints. and an ex. Plays a full evening. Royalty, $10.00. Bemis Ben- nington is left two million dollars by his uncle on condi- tion that he shall live for one year in a town of less than five thousand inhabitants and during that period marry and earn without other assistance than his own industry and ability the sum of five thousand dollars. Failing to accomplish this the money goes to one Pro- fessor Noah Jabb. This is done despite the energetic opposition of Jabb, who puts up a very interesting fight. Plenty of good comedy and a great variety of good parts, full of opportunity. Price, 35 Cents. % ^PRESSING WILLIE. A Comedy in Three Acts. By Rachel Crothers. 6 m., 5 w. 2 easy interior sets. Plays a full evening. Here is a play pronounced by most critics as one of the best offerings of the 1924 season in New York. It ran continuously for ten months on Broadway, and three road companies are now touring the United States with it. One reviewer says : “ It is a penetrating and comic play.” Another : “ Seriously, play and performance were of the finest texture.” A third: “ She (Miss Crothers) has written a charming and exquisite comedy which has a potent appeal to the agile witted.” There are scores of such commendations but why go on ? “ The play’s the thing.” The plot is written with the skill of an author who understands human nature, a keen satirist, and above all a dramatist born and bred. It is a comedy to satisfy the fastidious. Miss Crothers takes a shrewd, gentle, but distinct rap at some of the foolish foibles of the supersatisfied and self-exploiting coterie easily rec- ognized and skillfully parodied. It would be unfair in this brief description to give away the idea of the plot. To prospective producers the title itself has a tremen- dous advertising value. It is now for the first time re- leased for amateur and Little Theatre production under the reduced Royalty of $25.00 for each showing. Price, 75 Cents. BAKER'S PLAYS OF DISTINCTION IT HAPPENED IN JUNE. A Dramatic Comedy in Three Acts. By Eugene G. Hafer. 4 m., 5 w. 1 single easy int. Plays a full evening. Here is a play, written by the author of “ Take My Advice,” that most dra- matic clubs, churches and schools will welcome with open arms. It is a scrupulously clean comedy with snappy dialogue, brisk action, and an unusually interest- ing story. The action leads to a strong climax in each act. If you like comedy, you will find it in abundance, relieved by an occasional touch of pathos. Charlie At- kins is sent by an irate parent to the little village of Shady Grove to be kept out of mischief and tamed down. Incidentally an uncle, who owns a large chain of grocery stores, delegates him to force a rival store in the village, the Shady Grove Store, out of business. Charlie arrives in the village, meets Betty Bronson and promptly falls in love with her. Imagine his discom- fiture when he learns that Betty is the girl delegated to superintend the taming. Then to his horrified dismay he finds that Betty owns the Shady Grove Store — the store he has been sent to force out of business. Charlie and Betty are fine leads. You’ll laugh at energetic Randy and coy Susie’s love affairs; you’ll roar at lazy old Jim Pritchett’s attempts to court Mollie Jessop, cook for the Bronsons. You’ll cordially hate old Jarvis Sneed, and you’ll promptly take impish little Nell Crun- del right to your heart. Royalty for first performance, $10.00; for each additional, $5.00. Price, 35 Cents. THE ARRIVAL OF KITTY. Farce in Three Acts. By N. L. Swartout. 5 m., 4 w. Scenery, 1 int. Plays a full evening. Bobbie Baxter, pursuing his little love affair with Jane against the opposition of her uncle, William Winkler, has occasion to disguise himself in female costume and is taken for Kitty, an actress and close friend of Winkler, to the vast confusion of every- thing and everybody. Royalty, $10.00. Price, 60 Cents. “ ‘ The Arrival of Kitty ’ is as funny as ‘ Charley’s Aunt,’ — funnier in many places .” — From the Toledo Blade . BAKER’S PLAYS OF DISTINCTION “ THE BANTAM V. C.” By Harold Brighouse, Author of “ Hobson’s Choice/’ etc. A Farce in Three Acts. 6 m., 5 w. Plays a full evening. 2 easy ints. “ The Bantam V. C.” is the small and dapper Kittering. The Victoria Cross has been thrust upon him for his personal bravery at the Front, but he isn’t brave with women — women scare him stiff. He’d rather meet a shell than a shop girl. Kittering won’t admit his shy- ness and bluffingly boasts to his friends that he’s a “ devil of a lad.” Tommy Ludlow and Bill Farrimona frame up an extraordinary plot to test him. They taunt him for his shyness until Kittering, driven to despera- tion, proposes to demonstrate to their satisfaction that he’s the gayest kind of a gay dog. The devices — in a class by themselves — by which the sly as well as shy “Bantam V. C.” outwits, baffles and flabbergasts his in- credulous friends, are the making of something unique in farces. Easy to produce. All parts good. Full of action. A professional success. Royalty, $25.00. Price, 75 Cents. BY GEORGE. A Comedy in Three Acts. By J. C. McMullen. 7 m., 6 w. Simple int. setting. Plays 2 hours. George and Margaret Brackton, after twenty- five years of struggling, find themselves in a position to build the home of their dreams. They move into their new home and then decide to give a house party to their friends of college days. The friends arrive and the Bracktons’ troubles commence. The guests include a noted actress, a hypochondriac, a tired business man, a federal agent, a man who has been a traitor to his gov- ernment, a budding playwright, a petty thief, and a pair of lovers. The resultant chaos is left to the imagina- tion. While the play is a comedy, it has many dramatic touches and there is a strong vein of patriotism running through it. As in all of Mr. McMullen’s plays the parts are of equal importance and the setting is simple. The play proved very successful in the hands of the Cardinal Players of Los Angeles for whom it was written. Royalty, $ 10 . 00 . Price, 35 Cents, BAKER’S PLAYS OF DISTINCTION BACK HOME AGAIN. Comedy in Three Acts. By Clara B. Orwig. 4 m., 3 w. Scene, 2 easy ints. Plays a full evening. Roger Sheldon, juvenile lead, returns to his old home in Oldport, to settle his grandfather's estate. Contrary to prevailing opinion, the old gentle- man seems to have left but a small estate and this is bequeathed to young Roger along with a deathbed note : “ Remember the S. D.” The unraveling of the mystery centering around this message makes one of the best acting plays of the year. There are rich possibilities for character work in the persons of Phineas Gardner, a shyster lawyer; his wife, a meek old lady; Jerusha Bascom, the Sheldon housekeeper; Seth Pittman, an old cabinet maker; and the auctioneer who has a small part but a good one. The pretty love story of Marcia Bartlett (leading woman) and Roger, runs trippingly through the plot and permeates the play with the fresh- ness of a day in June. Here is a play of professional worth but written with the needs of amateurs fully in mind. Royalty, $10.00. Price, 50 Cents. SUNSHINE. A Comedy in Three Acts. By Walter Ben Hare. 4 m., 7 w. Scene, a simple ex., easily ar- ranged with a small lot of potted plants and rustic furniture. The story leads the audience a merry chase from snappy farce to real drama with just a flavor of the melodramatic which modern audiences find so pleasing. Here we find a great character part in a popular baseball hero who succeeds in making a “ home run ” in more ways than one, a wonderful leading lady role in the part of Mary, a hypochondriac who finds his medicine most pleasant to the taste, an old maid who mourns the loss of her parrot and a pert little girl with an exuberance of spirit that will keep the audience on its mettle. The Major is a character of great possi- bilities and in the hands of a capable actor much can be made of it. We cannot recommend too highly this play written by an author with scores of successes be- hind him and not a single failure. Royalty, $10.00. Price. 50 Cent& NEW PLAYS AND BOOKS Season 1925 TOP LINERS— FOR STUNT NIGHT AND VOD-VIL By Arthur LeRoy Kaser A new and original collection of “some of this and some of that" — concocted by a specialist in the vaudeville field, for the use of either the amateur or professional entertainer,, The contents include four hilarious monologues — four guaranteed success one-act vaudeville skits — several pages of street chatter, including many rhymes and jingles — a wealth of minstrel cross-fire with fill-in bits of digs and jabs, and thirty- eight stories for the story teller. The longer sketches as well as the monologues have been so arranged that specialties may easily be introduced. The shorter articles such as “Rhymes and Jingles," “Street Chatter." “The Monologist and Hi & Newspaper," etc., can be easily used as insertions m almost any form of monologue or cross-fire talking act. The minstrel cross-fire is of the modern type and utilizable wherever minstrel end men jokes are required. The collection is worth many times the price to the director who is in search of stuff that has not been worn threadbare. Bound in attractive art covers. Price, 75 cents. UNCLE JOSH STORIES By Cal Stewart Cal Stewart, who gave to millions of his admirers that kindly old rural philosopher and humorist. “Uncle Josh." has “passed over. 1 * The humor of Cal Stewart is like a draft of sweet cool air in a hot, stuffy room. For years, hearts have been made lighter, homes have been made happier, and troubles have been borne away on the wings of his hearty laughter. This collection, the first of the “Uncle Josh Stories, 9 promises xo oea pronnc source or enxerxamment xo miilions of people and in no better way can Stewart’s cheerful, old- fashioned humor be better preserved. “Uncle Josh" can get into more pesky predicaments than any other male critter* Read any one of the thirty or more selections and we guar- antee that first you'll chuckle, then you’ll giggle, then you’ll burst into a big laugh, hearty and unashamed. Stewart’s knowledge of life, which he so humorously portrays in these readings, comes from his varied experiences as a stage-coach driver, a locomotive engineer, and an actor. His philosophy 1 of life is “I’d sooner tell Peter on the last day about the laffs I’ve given folks on earth, than try to explain about givin’ them heart akes." Bound in substantial art covers at 75 cents per copy. Send for a Copy of our New Free Catalogue . It Describes More Than a Thousand Plays . .BAKER’S PLAYS. BOSTON. MASS. NEW PLAYS AND BOOKS — — Season 1925 AMAZON ISLE By Frederick G. Johnson . A Joyous farce of gay adventure, in three acts. Six males. fllV TPmfl M Qnrl onv nnmkn. X 1 _ n • r* J i j in i/iiiee dots, o ix males, six females, and any number of extra people. Scenery, o^te 1 H rPfl OT find nno ovf ow n. x* - 1 1 a i ’ » ho . . ' ~ Vi cAwa pcuj;ic. oueiiory, Oxie interior and one exterior. Playing time about two hours. A perfect blend of laughter and excitement. A Chart show- ing where pirate treasure is buried is mysteriously stolen from Jack, and he and his sweetheart Rose learn that it has equally mysteriously come into her father’s possession. Not only rlmr. hnf fho nM oonf x 1 ^ r . that, but the old gent is fitting out his yacht for a'cniise to the South Sea Islands. Determined i J ’ * r“" ~r ^^uwuuucJ not only to win the girl, but the treasure as well, despite her father’s bitter opposition. Jack hurls a ringing defi in his teeth— and then the chase begins. How the opposing factions reach the island of tom- toms and wild women, how they are received by the Amazon queen and her strange tribe of female savages, how they hazard lifa itself m fVw* ~~i ^ i ; i ▼ r 1 i • r • . 1 r - , xcxuaic aavagcs, I hazard life itself in the quest for gold and jewels, how Jack appears as if from the grave, how the coveted hoard ; uuw tue uuveiea noara at length reveals itself, and how — -of course — Jack forces old Cyrus to fay, -Bless you, my children, ” make up an evening of real thrills, presented in hilariously funny fashion. ‘‘Amazon Isle is a roaring farce, mixed of the laugh ingredients known as sure-fire. It gives unusual opportunity for colorful stag oducing a fi » 7i-,,r ® iur uuiunui svag* Iu g a x tle or i no . ex P ense » introducing a funny dress ball in the farst act and a band of Amazon savages later, thus admit- ting any number of extra people as well as the twelve prin- cipals. Speaking parts are all good. Cast includes blackface comedian, rube comedian, rube soubrette, and others, in addition to the leads. It is no exaggeration to say that this play averages a laugh every twenty seconds. Royalty $10.00 for each performance. Pric 3 , 50 cents. SIX ORIENTAL OPERETTAS By Laura E. Richards These six little operettas were written ter a boy’s camp but aa j j equally well in home. or school. No scenery is needed. Change of scene may be indicated by an inscription on blackboard or oaneri “A RohbprNa Korn n- aooiLr on blackboard or paper; “A foobbe?s“' Cavern” bring easily transformed into the “King’s Palace.” The lines are clever i r t : . — r, * ai °^. -me are uiever and of the sort to throw the story to the audience with a ringing success. The tunes are simple and familiar and may, for the most part, be found in any general collection of popular songs. If the characters are not able to carry a tune, the parts may be spoken. The first opera is timely in view of the Journalistic interest in all things Egyptian. Contents: “A Royal Wooing,*' or “The Wedding of Tut-Ankh-Amen Abou Hassan the Wag,” “Pretty Perilla,” “Aladdin,” “The Enchanted Birds, * “The Statue Prince.” To our customers who have used Mrs. Richards first book, “Eight Fairy Operas we have no hesitancy in saying that this present volume is a worthy successor. Price, 40 cents. BAKER’S PLAYS. BOSTON. MASS. 0 * [Price 3 Cents. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. NEW YOKE: AMERICAN BOOK EXCHANGE, Tribune Buildi ng . 1880 . 9 j ^td i * /J-5 MUCH ADO ABOUT lSTOTHUSTO. W\ ’ MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING-, DRAMATIS PERSONS. Don Pedro, prince of Arragon. Don John, h:s bastard brother. Claudio, a young lord < f Florence. Benedick, a younglordof Padua. Leonato, governor of Mnssina. Antonio, his brother. Balthasar, attendant on Don Pedro. BorachS, J‘ followers of Don John. Friar Francis. Dogberry, a constable. Verges, a headborough. A sexton. A Boy. TIeto, daughter to Leonato. Beatrice, niece to Leonato. Margaret, ) gentlewomen at- Ursula, j tending on Hero. Messengers, Watch, Attendants, &c. Scene : Messina. ACT I. Scene I. Before Lenato’s house. Enter Leonato, Hero, and Beatrice, with a Messenger. Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Peter of Arragon comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very near by this : he was not three leagues off when I left him. Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action ? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. Leon. A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here that Don Peter hath be- stowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio. Mess. Much deserved on his part and equally remembered by Don Pedro : he hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion : he hath indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how. Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. Mess, I have already delivered him letters, and there ap* ( 2 ) SCENE I.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 8 pears much jov in him ; even so much that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness. Leon. Did he break out into tears ? Mess. In great measure. Leon. A kind overflow of kindness : there are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping ! Beat. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from the wars or no ? 81 Mess. I know none of that name, lady : there was none such in the army of any sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece ? Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. Mess. O, lie’s returned ; and as pleasant as ever he was. Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged Cupid at the flight ; and my uncle’s fool, reading the chal- lenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at tlio bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed ? for indeed I promised to eat all of his killing. Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much ; but he’ll be meet with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath liolp to eat it : he is a very valiant trenclier-man ; he hath an excellent stomach. Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. Beat. And a good soldier to a lady : but what is he to a lord? Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man ; stuffed with all honourable virtues. Beat It is so. indeed ; he is no less than a stuffed man : bui for the stuffing, -well, we are all mortal. GO Leon. You must not, sir. mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her : they never meet but there’s a skirmish of wit between them. Beat. Alas he gets nothing by that. In our last con- flic four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one : so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a differ- ence between himself and his horse ; for it is all the wealth tli a; he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother. Mess. Is’t possible ? Beat. Very easily possible : he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat ; it ever changes with the next block. 4 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act I. Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. Beat. No ; an he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is his companion ? Is there no young squar- er now that will make a voyage with him to the devil ? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease : he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio ! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere a’ be cured. 90 Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady. Beat. Do, good friend. Leon. You will never run mad, niece. Beat. No, not till a hot January. Mesa. Don Pedro is approached. Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Claudio, Benedick, and Balthasar. D. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your grace : for trouble being gone, comfort should remain ; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave. D. Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is your daughter. Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? Leon. Signior Benedick, no ; for then were vou a child. D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick : we may guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers herself. Be happy, lady ; for you are like an honourable father. Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick ; nobody marks you. Bene. Wliat, my dear Lady Disdain ! are you yet living? Beat. Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence. Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted : and I would I SCENE i.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 5 could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart ; for, truly, I love none. Beat. A dear happiness to women : they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that : I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me. Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind ! so some gentleman or other shall ’scape a predestinate scratched face. Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an ’twere such a face as yours were. Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot -teacher. 140 Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i’ God’s name ; I have done. Beat. You always end with a jade’s trick : I know you of old. D. Pedro. That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him wc shall stay here at the least a month ; and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. [To Don John ] Let me bid you welcome, my lord : being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you all duty. D. John. I thank you : I am not of many words, but I thank you. Leon. Please it your grace lead on ? 160 * D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato ; we will go together. [Exeunt all except Benedick and Claudio. Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato ? Bene. I noted her not ; but I looked on her. Claud. Is she not a modest young lady ? Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgement ; or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex ? Claud. No ; I pray thee speak in sober judgement. 171 Bene. Why, i’ faith, me thinks she’s too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little for a great praise : only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome ; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. Claud. Thou tliinkest I am in sport : I pray thee tell me truly how thou likest her. _ 180 6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act i. Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after her ? Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel ? Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good liare-finder and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take you, to go in the song ? Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on. 190 Bene. I can see yet without spectacles and I see no such matter : there's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May does the last of December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you? Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrarv, if Hero would be my wife. Bene. Is’t come to this? In faith, hath not the world one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion ? Shall I never see a bachelor of three score again ? Go to, i’ faith ; an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it and sigh away Sundays. Look ; Don Pedro is returned to seek you. Re-Enter Don Pedro. D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that you fol- lowed not to Leonato’s ? Bene. I would your grace would constrain me to tell. D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. Bene. You hear, Count Claudio • I can be secret as a dumb man ; I would have you think so ; but, on my alle- giance, mark you this, on my allegiance. lie is in love. With who? now that is your grace’s part. Mark how short his answer is ; — With Hero, Leohato’ < short daughter. Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. Bene. Like the old tale, my lord • “ it is not so, nor ’tv as not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.” 220 Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her ; for the lady is very well worthy. Claud. You speak this to fetch me in* my lord. D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. Claud . That I love her, I feel. 230 D . Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. SCENE i.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 7 Bene. That I neither feel how she should he loved nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me : 1 will die in it at the stake. D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the de- spite of beauty. Claud. And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will. Berte. That a woman conceived me, I thank her ; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks : but that I will have a recheat wfinded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust ar y, I will do myself the right to trust none ; and the fine is, foi the which 1 may go the finer, I will live a bachelor. D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, not with love : prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker’s pen and bang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid. D. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. Bene. If I do hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me ; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoul- der, and called Adam. 261 D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try : “ In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.” Bene. The savage bull may ; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull’s horns and set them in my forehead : and let me be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write “ Here is good horse to hire,” let them signify under my sign “ Here you may see Benedick the married man.” 270 Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn- mad. D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for til's shortly. Bene. I look for an earthquake too, then. JD. Pedro. Well, you will temporize w r ith the hours. In the meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's : commend me to him and tell him I will not fail him at sup- per ; tor indeed he hath made great preparation. 280 Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage ; and so I commit you — - Cloud. To the tuition of God : From my house, if I had it,— JO* Pedro . Thesisthof July; Your lovingfnend ? Benedick. 8 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act l Bene . Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your dis- course is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on neither : ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience : and so I leave you. [Exit. 291 Claud. My liege, your highness now may do me good. D. Pedro. My love is thine to teach : teach it but how. And thou slialt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good. Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord ? B. Pedro. No child but Hero ; she’s his only heir. Dost thou affect her, Claudio ? Claud. 0, my lord, When you went onward on this ended action, I look’d upon her with a soldier’s eye, 300 That liked, but had a rougher task in hand Than to drive liking to the name of love : But now I am return’d and that war-thoughts Have left their places vacant, in their rooms Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is, Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars. B. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently And tire the hearer with a book of words. If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, 310 And I will break with her and with her father And thou shalt have her. Was’t not to this end That thou began’st to twist so fine a story ? Claud. How sweetly you do minister to love, That know love’s grief by his complexion ! But lest my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salved it with a longer treatise. B. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessi^v. Look, what will serve is fit : ’tis once, thou lovest, 320 And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know we shall have revelling to-night : I will assume thy part in some disguise And tell fair Hero 1 am Claudio, And in her bosom I’ll unclasp my heart And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong encounter of my amorous tale ; Then after to her father will I break ; And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt, 330 SCENE HI.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 9 Scene II. A room in Leonato’s home. Enter Leonato and Antonio, meeting. Leon. How now, brother ! Where is my cousin, your son ? hath he provided this music ? Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange news that you yet dreamt not of. Leon. Are they good ? Ant. As the event stamps them : but they have a good cover ; they show well outward. The prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick- pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus much overheard by a man of mine : the prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance ; and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top and instantly break with you of it. Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this ? Ant. A good sharp fellow : I will send for him ; and question him yourself. 20 Leon. No, no ; we will hold it as a dream till it appear itself : but I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if perad venture this be true. Go you and tell her of it. [ Enter Attendants. ] Cousins, you know what you have to do. O, I cry you mercy, friend ; go you with me, and I will use your skill. Good cousin, have a care this busy time. [Exeunt. Scene. III. The same. Enter Don John and Conrade. Con. What the good-year, my lord ! why are you thus out of measure sad ? D. John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds ; therefore the sadness is without limit. Con. You should hear reason. D. John. And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it? Con. If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance. D. John. I wonder that thou, being, as thou savest thou art, born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral medi- cine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am : I must be sad when I have cause and smile at no man's jests, eat when I have stomach and wait for no man’s leisure, sleep when I am drowsy and tend on no man’s business, laugh when I am merry and claw no man in his humour. Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this 10 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act I. till you may do it without controlment. You have of lato stood out against your brother, and lie hath ta’en you newly into his grace ; where it is impossible you should* take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself : it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. D. John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace, and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any : in this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but 1 am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog ; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite ; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking : in the meantime let me be that I am and seek not to alter me. Con._ Can you make no use of your discontent ? 40 1) John. I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here ? Enter Borachio. What news, Borachio ? Bora. I came yonder from a great supper : the prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato ; and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. D. John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on ? Wliat is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquiet- ness ? 50 Bora. Marry, it is your brother’s right hand. D. John. Who ? the most exquisite Claudio ? Bora. Even he. I) . John. A proper squire! And who, and who? which way looks he ? Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. D. John. A very forward March-cliick ! How came you to this ? Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smok- ing a musty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand in hand, ifi sad conference : I whipt me behind the arras ; and there heard it agreed upon that the prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtained her, give her to Count Claudio. D. John. Come, come, let us thither : this may prove food to mv displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow : if I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way. You are both sure, and will assist me ? Con. To the death, my lord. J) , John . Let us to the great supper : their cheer is the SCENE III. J MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 11 greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were of my mind ! Shall we go prove wliat’s to he done ? Bora. We’ll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. ACT II. Scene I. A MU in Leonato’s house. ' Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, and others. Leon. Was not Count John here at supper? Ant. I saw him not. Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks ! I never can see him but I am heart-burned an hour after. Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. Beat. He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway between him and Benedick : the one is too like an image and says nothing, and the other too like my lady’s eldest son, evermore tattling. 11 Leon. Then half Signior Benedick’s tongue in Count John’s mouth, and half Count John’s melancholy in Signior Bene- dick’s face, — Beat. With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if a’ could get her good-will. Ijeon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a hus- band, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. 21 Ant. In faith, she’s too curst. Beat. Too curst is more than curst : I shall lessen God’s sending that way ; for it is said, ‘‘God sends a curst cow sho:t horns but to a cow too curst he sends none. Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. Beat. Just, if he send me no husband ; for the which blessing 1 am at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face ; I had rather lie in the woolen. Leon. You may light, on a husband that hath no beard. Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my ap- parel and make him my waiting-gentle-woman ? He that hatha beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man : and he that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is le?s than a man, I am not for him : therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bear- ward, and lead his apes into hell. Leon. Well, then, go you into hell? Beat. No, but to the gate ; and there will the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns ob his head, and say, 12 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act ii. “ Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven : here’s no place for you maids : ” so deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the heavens ; he shows me where the bach- elors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long. Ant. [To Hero ] Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father. Beat. Yes, faith ; it is my cousin’s duty to make curtsy and say “ Father, as it please you.” But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy and say “Father, as it please me.” Leon. Weil, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. 01 Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust ? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl ? No, uncle, I’ll none : Adam’s sons are my brethren ; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you : if the prince do solicit vou in that kind, you know your answer. 71 Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed in good time : if .the prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing and so dance out the an- swer. For, hear me, Hero : wooing, wedding, and repent- ing, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque pace : the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fan- tastical ; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry ; and then comes repentance and, with his bad legs, falls into the cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave. Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. Beat. I have a good eye, uncle ; I can see a church by daylight. Leon. The revellers are entering, brother : make good room. [All put on their masks. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, Don John, Borachio, Margaret, Ursula, and others , masked. D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend ? Hero. So you walk softly and look sweetly and say noth- ing, I am yours for the walk ; and especially when. I walk away. D. Pedro. With me in your company V Hero. I may say so, when I please. D. Pedro. And when please you to say so ? scene i.J MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 13 Hero. When I like your favour ; for God defend the lute should be like the case ! D. Pedro . My visor is Philemon’s roof ; within the house is Jove. 100 Hero. Why, then, your visor should be thatched. D. Pedro . Speak low, if you speak love. [ Drawing her aside. Bdlth. Well, I would you did like me. Marg. So would not I, for your own sake ; for I have many ill qualities. Balth. Which is one ? Marg. I say my prayers aloud. Balth. I love you the better : the hearers may cry, Amen. Marg. God match me with a good dancer ! Ill Balth. Amen. Marg. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done ! Answer, clerk. Balth. No more words the clerk is answered. ITrs. I know you well enough ; you are Signior Antonio. Ant. At a word, I am not. Ur s. I know you by the waggling of your head. 120 Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. Urs. You could never do him so ill- well, unless you were the very man. Here’s his dry hand up and down : you are he, you are he. Ant. At a word, I am not. Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he : graces will appear, and there’s an end. Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so ? 130 Bene. No, you shall pardon me. Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? Bene. Not now. Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the “ Hundred Merry Tales : ” — well, this was Signior Benedick that said so. Bene. What’s he ? Beat. I am sure you know him wejl enough. Bene. Not I, believe me. Beat. Did he never make you laugh ? 140 Bene. I pray you, what is he ? Beat. Why, he is tbe prince’s jester : a very dull fool ; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders : none but libertines delight in him ; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany ; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet : I would he had boarded me. 14 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act i L Bene . When I know the gentleman, 111 tell him what you say. 151 Beat. Do, do : hell but break a comparison or two on me ; which, peradventure not marked or not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy ; and then there’s a partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. [Music.] We must follow the leaders. Bene. In every good thing. Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. 160 [Dance. Then exeunt oil except Don John Borachio , and Claudio. D. John. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her and but one visor remains. Bora. And that is Claudio : I know him by his bearing. D. John. Are not you Signior Benedick? Claud. You know me well ; I am he. D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love : he is enamoured on Hero ; I pray you, dissuade him from her : she is no equal for his birth : you may do the part of an honest man in it. Claud. How know you he loves her? D. John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora. So did I too ; and he swore he would marry her to- night. D. John. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt Don John and Borachio . Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. 180 'Tis certain so ; the prince wooes for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love : y Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues ; 9 Let every eye negotiate for itself And trust no agent ; for beauty is a witch Against whose charms faith meltetli into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore. Hero 1 Re-enter Benedick. Bene . Count Claudio ? 190 Claud . Yea, the same. Bene. Come, will you go with me ? Claud, Whither? Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about 15 scene I.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. your neck, like an usurer’s chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant’s scarf V You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero. Claud. I wish him joy of her. 200 Bene. Why, that’s spoken like an honest drovier : so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus ? Claud. I pray you, leave me? Bene. Ho ! now you strike like the blind man : ’twas the boy that stole your meat, and you’ll beat the post. Claud. If it will not be, I’ll leave you. [Exit. Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl ! now will he creep into sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me ! The prince’s fool ! Ha? It may be I go under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed: it is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice that puts the world into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I’ll be revenged , as I may. Be-enter Don Pedro. D. Pedro. Now, signior, where’s the count? did you see him? Bene . Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren : I told him, and I think I told him true, that your grace had got the good will of this young lady ; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. D. Pedro. To be whipped ! What’s his fault ? Bene. The flat transgression of a school -boy, who, being overjoyed with finding a bird’s nest, shows it his compan- ion, and he steals it. 2 i0 D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ? The transgression is in the stealer. Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too ; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen his birds’ nest. D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner. 240 Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly. D. Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you : the gentleman that danced with her told her she is much Wronged by you. 16 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act II. Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance of a block ! an oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her ; my very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince’s jester, that I was duller than a great thaw ; hud- dling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs : if her breath were as terrible, as her terminations, there were no living near her ; she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed : she would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her : you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would conjure her ; for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctu- ary ; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither ; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror and perturbation fol- lows her. D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. 270 Enter Claudio, Beatrice, Hero, and Leonato. Bene. Will your grace command me any service to the world’s end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on ; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of Prester John’s foot, fetch you a hair off the great Cham’s beard, do you any embassage to the Pig- mies, rather than hold three word’s conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me ? 280 j D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. Bene. O God, sir, here’s a dish I love not : I cannot en- dure my Lady Tongue. [Exit. D. Pedro. Come, lady, come ; you have*lost the heart of Signior Benedick. Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile ; and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one : marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say I have lost it. 291 D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. D. Pedro. Why, how now, count 1 wherefore are you sad ? Claud. Not sad, my lord. 300 SCENE i.J MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 17 D. Pedro. How then ? sick ? Claud. Neither, my lord. Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well ; but civil count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion. D. Pedro. I’ faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true ; though, I’ll be sworn, if lie be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won : I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained : name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy ! Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes : his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it. Beat. Speak, count, ’tis your cue. Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy : I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours : I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange. 320 Beat. Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. D. Pedro . In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. Beat. Yea, my lord ; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart. Claud. And so she doth cousin. Beat. Good Lord, for alliance ! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun -burnt ; I may sit in a corner and crv heigh-ho for a husband ! I). Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. Beat. I would rather have one of your father’s getting. Hath your graco ne’er a brother like you ? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. JD. Pedro. Will you have me, lady? Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for work- ing-days : your grace is too costly to wear every day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me : I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. JD. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you ; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried ; but then there was a star danced, and under that I was born. Cousins, God give you joy ! 350 Leon . Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. By your grace’s pardon. [Exit. D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. 1$ MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act it Leon. There’s little of tlie melancholy element in her, my lord : she is never sad but when she sleeps, and not eve* sad then ; for I have heard 1117 daughter say, she hath often dreamed of unhappiness and waked herself with laughing. j D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. Leon. O, by no means ; she mocks all her wooers out ol suit. L>. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad. L>. Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you to go ta church? 371 Claud. To-morrow, my lord : time goes on crutches till love have all his rites. Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night ; and a time too brief, too, to have all things answer my mind. JD. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breath- ing : but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of Her- cules' labours ; which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other. I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchings. Claud. And I, my lord. D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. 391 D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unliopef ullest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him ; he is of a noble strain, of approved valour and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick ; and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer : his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt. Scene II. The same . Enter Don John and Borachio. T>. John. It is so ; the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato, SCENE II. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 19 Bora. Yea, my lord ; but I can cross it. JD. John Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be me- dicinable to me : I am sick in displeasure to liim, and what- soever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage ? Bora . Not honestly, my lord ; but so covertly that no dis- honesty shall appear in me. 10 D. John. Show me briefly how. Bora. I think I told your lordship a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero. JD. John. I remember. Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, ap- point her to look out at her lady’s chamber window. JD. John. What life is in that, to be the death of this mar- riage? 20 Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother ; spare not to tell him that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio — whose estimation do you mightily hold up — to a contam- inated stale, such a one as Hero. D. John. What proof shall I make of that? Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue? 30 JD. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. Bora. Go, then ; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone : tell them that you know that Hero loves me ; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as — in love of your brother’s honour, who hath made this match, and his friend’s reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid, — that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial : offer them instances ; which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber- window, hear me f call Margaret, Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio ; and bring them to see this the very night before the in- tended wedding, — for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent, — and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero’s disloyalty that jealousy sli&ll be called assurance and all the preparation overthrown. 51 JD. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cun- ning shall not ihame me. JD. John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage, f Exeunt . 20 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act n. Scene III. Leonato’s orchard. Enter Benedick. Bene . Boy ! Enter Boy. Boy . Signior? Bene. In my chamber- window lies a book : bring it hither to me in the orchard. Boy. I am here already, sir. Bene. I know that ; but I would have thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy. J I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love : and such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife ; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe : I have known when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a good armour ; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier ; and now is he turned orthog- raphy; his words are a very fantastical b mquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted and see with these eyes? I cannot tell ; I think not : I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster ; but I’ll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well ; another is wise, yet I am well ; another virtuous, yet I am well ; but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain ; Avise, or I’ll none ; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her ; fair, or I’ll never look on her ; mild, or come not near me ; noble, or not I for an angel ; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha ! the prince and Monsieur Love ! I will hide me in the arbour. [ Withdraws. Ehiter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music ? Claud. Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, 40 As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony ! D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself ? Claud. O, very well, my lord : the music ended, Well fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth. 21 scene in.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Enter Balthasar with 3fusic. B. Pedro. Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again. Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so l}ad a voice To slander music any more than once. B. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency To put a strange face on his own perfection. I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. 50 Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing ; Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes, Yet will he swear he loves. B. Pedro. Now, pray thee, come ; Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument. Do it in notes. Balth. Note this before my notes ; There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting. B. Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks ; Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing. [Air. Bene. Now. divine air ! now is his soul ravished ! Is it not strange that sheeps’ guts should hale souls out of men’s bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all’s done. The Song. Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, but let them go. And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe 70 Into Hey nonny, nonny. Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, Of dumps so dull and heavy ; The fraud of men was ever so, Since summer first was leafy : Then sigh not so, &e. B. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. B. Pedro. Ha, no, no, faith ; thou singest well enough for a shift. 80 Bene. An he had been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him : and I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it. B . Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 22 [ACT II. thee, get us some excellent music ; for to morrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero’s chamber- window. Balth. The best I can, my lord. 90 D. Pedro. Do so : farewell. [Exit Balthasar. Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? Claud. O, ay : stalk on, stalk on ; the fowl sits. I did never think that lady would have loved any man. Leon. No, nor I neither ; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor. 101 Bene. Is’t possible? Sits the wind in that corner? Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it but that she loves him with an enraged affection : it is past the infinite of thought. D. Pedro. May be she doth but counterfeit. Claud. Faith, like enough. Leon. O God, counterfeit ! There was never counter- feit of passion came so near the life of passion as she dis- covers it. Ill j D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she? Claud. Bait the hook well ; this fish will bite. Leon. What effects, my lord ! She will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how. Claud. She did, indeed. D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you ? You amaze me : I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. 120 Leon. I would have a worn it had, my lord ; especially against Benedick. Bene. I should think this a gull, but that the white- bearded fellow speaks it ; knavery cannot, sure, hide him- self in such reverence. Claud. He hath ta’en the infection : hold it up. D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick ? Leon. No ; and swears she never will : that’s her tor ment. 130 Claud ’. ’Tis true, indeed ; so your daughter says ; “ Shall I,” says she, “that have so often encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?” Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him ; for she’ll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smock, till she have writ a sheet of paper : my daughter tells us all. Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. Leon. O, when she had writ it and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet ? SCENE HI.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 23 Claud . That. Leon. O, slie tore the letter into a thousand halfpence ; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her ; “I measure him,” says she, “ by my own spirit ; for I should flout him, if he writ to me ; yea. though I love him, I should.” 151 Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses ; “ O sweet Benedick ! God give me patience !” Leon. She doth indeed ; my daughter says so : and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my daughter is sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to hereelf , it is very true. D. Pedro . It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. 1C1 Claud. To what end ? He would make but a sport of it and torment the poor lady, worse. D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She’s an excellent sweet lady ; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. l Claud. And she is exceeding wise. D. Pedro. In everything but in loving Benedick. Leon. 0, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so ten- der a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on me : I would have daifed all other respects and made liei half my- self. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what a’ will say. Leon. Were it good, think you? Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die ; for she says she will die, if he love her not, and she will die, ere she make her love known, and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness. D. Pedro. She doth well . if she should make tender of her love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it ; for the man, as you know all. hath a contemptible spirit. Claud. He is a very proper man. D. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness. 191 Claud. Before God ! and, in my mind, very wise. D. Pedro. He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit. Claud. And I take him to be valiant. JD. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you : and in the manag- ing of quarrels you may say he is wise ; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear. 209 U MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act n. Leon . If he do fear God, a’ must necessarily keep peace : if lie break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. D. Pedro. And so will lie do ; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love? Claud. Never tell him, my lord : let her wear it out with good counsel. Leon. Nay, that’s impossible : she may wear her heart out first. 210 D Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter : let it cool the while. I love Benedick well ; and 1 could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady. Leon. My lord, will you walk ? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. 220 D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her ; and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter : that’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb-show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Exeunt Don Pedro , Claudio , and Leonato. Bene. [Coming forward ] This can be no trick /he con- ference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the iady : it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me ! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured : they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her ; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry : I must not seem proud : happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair; ’tis a truth, I can bear them witness ; and virtuous ; ’tis so, 1 cannot reprove it ; and wise, but for loving me ; by my troth, it is no ad- dition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage : but doth not the ap- petite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he can- not endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour ? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live until I SCENE i.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 25 were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day ! she's a fair lady : I do spy some marks of love in her. Enter Beatrice. Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank yon for your pains. Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me : if it had been painful, I would not have come. 261 Bene. You take pleasure then in the message? Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife’s point and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, sig- nior : fare you well. [Exit. Bene. Ha ! “Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner there’s a double meaning in that. “ I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me;” that’s as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain ; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture. [Exit. ACT III. Scene I. Leonato’s garden. Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. j Eero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor ; There slialt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing with the prince and Claudio : Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard and our whole discourse Is all of her ; say that thou overheard’st us ; And bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where honeysuckles, ripen’d by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter, like favourites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 10 Against that power that bred it : there will she hide her, To listen our purpose. This is thy office ; Bear thee well in it and leave us alone. Marg. I’ll make her come, I warrant you, presently. [Exit. Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come. As we do trace this alley up and down, Our talk must only be of Benedick. W'hen I do name him, let it be thy part To praise him more than ever man did merit ; My talk to tnee must be how Benedick 20 £6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act m. Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter Is little Cupid’s crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hearsay. Enter Beatrice, behind. Now begin ; For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Close by the ground, to hear our conference. Urs. The pleasant’st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream. And greedily devour the treacherous bait : So angle we for Beatrice ; who even now Is couched in the woodbine coverture. 30 Fear you not my part of the dialogue. Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. {Approaching the bower. No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful ; I know her spirits are as coy and wild As liaggerds of the rock. Urs. But are you sure That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ? Hero. So says the prince and my new-trothed lord. Urs. And did they bid you tell l^er of it, madam? Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it ; 40 But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full as fortunate a bed As ever Beatrice shall couch upon ? Hero. O god of love ! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man : But Nature never framed a woman’s heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice ; ;'0 Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes. Misprising what they look on, and her wit Values itself so liiglilv that to her All matter else seems weak : she cannot love. Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endeared. Urs. Sure, I think so ; And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarelv featured, 60 But she would spell him backward ; if fair-faced, SCENE I.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 27 She would swear the gentleman should be her sister ; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique, Made a foul blot ; if tall, a lance ill-lieaded ; If low, an agate very vilely cut ; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds ; If silent, why, a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purcliasetli. 70 Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. Hero. No, not to be so odd and from all fashions As Beatrice is, canrot be commendable : But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She would mock me into air ; 0, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like cover’d fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly : It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. 80 Urs. Yet tell her of it : hear what she will say. Hero. No ; rather l will go to Benedick And counsel him to fight against liis passion. And, truly, I’ll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with : one doth not know How much an ill word may empoison liking. Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgement — Having so swift and excellent a wit As she i3 prized to have — as to refuse 90 So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. Hero. He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, Speaking my fancy : Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument and valour. Goes foremost in report through Italy. Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere lie had it. When are you married, madam ? 100 Hero. Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, go in: I’ll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. Urs. She’s limed, I warrant you : we have caught her, madam. Hero. If it proves so, then loving goes by haps : Some cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [ Exeunt Hero and Ursula. ‘28 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act hi. Beat. [Coming forward ] Wliat fire is in mine ears ? Can this be true ? Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much ? Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu I No glory lives behind the back of such. 110 And, Benedick, love on ; I will requite thee, Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand : If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band ; For others say thou dost deserve, and I Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit. Scene II. A room in Leonato’s house. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato. D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consum- mate, and then go I toward Arragon. Claud. I’ll bring you thither, my lord, if you’ll vouch- safe me. D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company ; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth : he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bow-string and the little hangman dare not shoot at him ; he hath a heart as sound as a bell and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks. Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. Leon. So say I : metliinks you are sadder. Claud. I hope he be in love. I). Pedro. Hang him, truant ! there’s no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touched with love : if he be sad, he wants money. 20 Bene. I have the toothache. D. Pedro. Draw it. Bene. Hang it ! Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. JD. Pedro. What ! sigh for the toothache? Leon. Where is but a humour or a worm. Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it. Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. 30 JD. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises ; as, to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-morrow, or in the shape or two countries at once, as, a German from the waist SCENE II. j MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 29 downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from tlie hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it ap- pears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is. Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs : a’ brushes his hat o’ mornings ; what should that bode ? 42 D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber’s ? Claud. No, but the barber’s man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls. Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard. L>. Pedro. Nay, a’ rubs himself with civet : can you smell him out by that ? . 51 Claud. That’s as much as to say, the sweet youth’s in love. D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. Claud. And when was lie wont to wash his face ? D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him. Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit ; which is now crept into a lute-string and now governed by stops. D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him : con- clude, conclude he is in love. Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. D. Pedro. That would I know too : I warrant, one that knows him not. Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions ; and, in despite of all, dies for him. 71 D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old sig- nior, walk aside with me : I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. Claud. ’Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice ; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. 81 Enter Don John. D. John. My lord and brother, God save you ! D. Pedro. Good den, brother. D. John. If your leisure served, I would speak with you. D. Pedro. In private? D. John. If it please you : yet Count Claudio may hear ; for what I would speak of concerns him. BO MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act hi. D . Pedro . What’s the matter ? 90 D. John. [To Claudio ] Means your lordship to be mar- ried to-morrow ? D. Pedro. You know he does. D. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. D. John. You may think I love you not : Jet that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will mani- fest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath liolp to effect your ensuing mar- riage ; — surely suit ill spent and labour ill bestowed. D. Pedro. Why, what’s the matter ? D. John. I came hither to tell you ; and, circumstances shortened, for she has been too long a talking of, the lady is disloyal. Claud. Who, Hero? D. John. Even she ; Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero. 110 Claud. Disloyal ? D. John. The word is too good to paint out her wicked- ness ; I could say she were worse : think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further war- rant : go but with me to-night, you shall see her chamber- window entered, even the night before her wedding-day if you love her then, to-morrow wed her ; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind. Claud. May this be so? 120 D. Pedro. I will not think it. D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know : if you will follow me, I will show you enough ; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. JD. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. 130 D. John. I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned ! Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting ! D. John. O plague right well prevented ! so will you say when you have seen the sequel. [j Exeunt. scene m.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 31 Scene III. A street . Enter Dogberry and Verges with the Watch. Dog. Are you good men and true ? Verg. «Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince’s watch. Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. Dog. First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? 10 First Watch. Hugh Otecake, sir, or George Seacole ; for they can write and read. Dog. Come hither, neighbour Seacole. God hath blessed you with a good name : to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune ; but to write and read comes by nature. Sec. Watch. Both which, master constable,— Dog. You have : I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it ; and for your writing and reading, let that ap- pear when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch ; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge : you shall comprehend all vagrom men ; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince’s name. Sec. Watch. How if a’ will not stand? Dog. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go ; and presently call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of a knave. Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince’s subjects. Dog. True, and they are to meddle with none but the prince’s subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets ; for for the watch to babble and to talk is most tol- erable and not to be endured. Watch. We will rather sleep than talk : we know what belongs to a watch. 40 Dog. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman ; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend : only, have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. Watch. How if they will not? Dog. Why, then, let them alone till they are sober : if they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for, 51 32 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act m. Watch. Well, sir. Dog. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by vir- tue of your office, to be no true man ; and, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. • Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him ? Dog. Truly, by your office, you may ; but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled : the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company. Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner. Dog. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 70 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us ? Dog. Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying ; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats. Verg. ’Tis very true. Dog. This is the end of the charge : — you, constable, are to present the prince’s own person : if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. 81 Verg. Nay, by’r our lady, that I think a’ cannot. Dog. Five shillings to one on’t, w r ith any man that knows the statues, he may stay him : marry, not without the prince be willing ; for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man ; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. Verg. By’r lady, I think it be so. Dog. Ha, ha, lia ! Well, masters, good night : an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me : keep your fellows’ counsels and your own ; and good night. Come, neighbour. Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge : let us go sit here upon the church- bench till two, and then all to bed. Dog. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch about Signior Leonato’s door ; for the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night. Adieu : be vigilant, I beseech you. [ Exeunt Dogberry and Verges. 101 Enter Borachio and Conrade. Bora. What, Conrade ! Watch. [Aside] Peace ! stir not. Bora. Conrade, I say ! (Jon, Here, man ; I am at thy elbow. SCENE III. J MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 33 Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched ; I thought there would a scab follow. Con. I will owe tlieo an answer for that : and now for- ward with thy tale. Bora. Stand thee close, then, under this pent*liouse, for it drizzles rain ; and I wiil, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. Watch. [Atide] Some treason, masters : }*et stand close. Bora. Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. Con. Is it possible that any villnny should be so dear? Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villany should be so rich ; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. Con. I wonder at it. Bora. That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. Con. Yes, it is apparel. Bora. I mean, the fashion. Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. Bora. Tush ! I may as well say the fool’s the fool. But geest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is? Watch. [Aside] I know that Deformed ; a’ has been a vile thief this seven year ; a* goes up and down like a gen* tleman : I remember his name. Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? Con. No ; ’twas the vane on the house. Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief tlna fasliiou is? how giddily a’ turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and- thirty ? sometimes fashion- ing them like Pharoli’s soldiers in the reeky painting, some- time like god Bel’s priests in the old church- window, some- time like tbs shaven Hercules in the smirch worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club? Con. All this l see ; and I see that the fashion wears out more appirel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too. that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion ? Bora. Not so, neither : but know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero’s gentlewoman, by the name of Hero : she leans me out at her mistress’ chamber- window, bids me a thousand times good l ight, — I tell this tale vilely : — I should first tell thee how the prince, Claudio and my master, planted and placed and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter. 161 SHAK. I.— 11 34 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act iii. Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero ? Bora. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio ; hut the devil my master knew she was Margaret ; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged ; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o’er night and send her home again without a husband First Watch. We charge you, in the prince’s name, stand ! Sec. Watch. Call up the right master constable. We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. 181 First Watch. And one Deformed is one of them : I know him ; a’ wears a lock. Con. Masters, masters, — Sec. Watch. You’ll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. Con. Masters, — First Watch. Never speak : we charge you let us obey you to go with us. Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men’s bills. 191 Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we’ll obey you. T Exeunt. Scene IV. Hero’s apartment . Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and de- sire her to ri>e. Ur s. I will, lady. Hero. And bid her come hither. Urs. Well. [Exit. Marg. Troth, I think your other rabato were better. Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I’ll wear this. Marg. By my troth, ’s not so good ; and I warrant your cousin will say so. 10 Hero. My cousin’s a fool, and thou art another : I’ll wear none but this. Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner ; and your gown’s a most rare fashion, i’ faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown that they praise so. Hero. 0, that exceeds, they say. SCEK 12 iv.] MITCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 85 Marg. By my troth, ’s but a niglit-gown in respect of yours : cloth o’ gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel : but for a fine, quaint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on’t. Hero. God give me joy to wear it ! for my heart is ex- ceeding heavy. Marg. ’Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. Hero. Fie upon thee ! art not ashamed ? Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord hon- ourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, * ‘ saving your reverence, a husband : ” an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I’ll offend nobody : is there any harm in “the heavier for a husband”? None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife ; otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy : ask my Lady Beatrice else ; here she comes. Enter Beatrice. Hero . Good morrow, coz. Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. 40 Hero. Why, how now ? do you speak in the sick tune ? Beat. I am out of all other tune, metliinks. Marg. Clap’s into “Light o’ love that goes without a burden : do you sing it, and I’ll dance it. Beat. Ye light o’ love, with your heels ! then, if your husband have stables enough, you’ll see he shall lack no barns. Marg. O illegitimate construction ! I scorn that with my heels. 51 Beat. ’Tis almost five o’clock, cousin ; ’tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill : heigh-ho ! Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there’s no more sailing by the star. # Beat. What means the fool, trow ? Marg. Nothing I ; but God send every one their heart’s desire ! 61 Hero. These gloves the count sent me ; they are an ex- cellent perfume. Beat. I am stuffed, cousin ; I cannot smell. Marg. A maid, and stuffed ! there’s goodly catching of cold. Beat. O, God help me ! God help me ! how long have you professed apprehension ? SO MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act lit Marg. Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely? 70 Beat . It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick. Marg. Get you some of this distilled Cnrduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart : it is the only thing for a qualm. Hero. There thou prickest her with a thistle. Beat. Benedictus ! why Benedictus ? you have some moral in this Benedictus. Marg. Moral ! no, by my troth, I have no moral mean- ing ; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think ] ercliance that I think you are in iove : nay, by’r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list, nor I iist not to think what I can, nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love or that you will be in love or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man : he swore he would never marry, and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging : and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do. Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? Marg. Not a false gallop. Re-enter Ursula. Urs. Madam, withdraw : the prince, the count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church. Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt. Scene V. Another room in Leonato’s house. Enter Leonato, uilh Dogberry and Verges. Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour? Bog. Marry, sir, I v/ould have some confidence with you that decerns' you nearly. Leon. Brief, I pray you ; for you see it is a busy time with m \ Bog. Marry, this it is, sir. Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. IjCoii. What is it, my good fiiends? Bog. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter : an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire they were ; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows. 37 scenk v.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Verg . Yes, I tliank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no hon ester than I. Dog. Comparisons are odorous : palabras, neighbour Verges. Leor ?. Neighbours, you are tedious. 20 Dog. It pleas s your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke’s officers ; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. ^ Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ah? Dog. Yea, and ’twere a thousand pound more than ’tis ; for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city ; and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. 30 Verg. And so am I. Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-niglit, excepting your worship’s presence, lia’ ta’en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. Dog. A good old man, sir ; he will bo talking : as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out : God help us ! it is a world to see. Well said, i’ faith, neighbour Verges : well, God’s a good man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest soul, i’ faith, sir ; by my truth he is, as ever broke bread ; but God is to be worshipped ; all men are not alike ; alas, good neighbour ! L^eon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. Dog. Gifts that God gives. Ljeon. I must leave you. Dog. One word, sir : our watch, sir, have indeed compre- hended two nspicious persons, and wo would have them this morning examined before your worship. Leon. Take their examination yourself and bring it me : I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you. Dog. It shall be suffigance. Leon. Drink some wine ere you go : fare you well. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. * GO Leon. 1’il wait upon them : I am ready. [Exeunt Leonato and Messenger. Dog. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacole ; bid him bring his pen and inkliorn to the gaol : we are now to examination these men. Verg. And avg must do it wisely. Dog. Wc will spare f severally. SCENE II.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 55 Scene II. Leonato’s garden. Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting. Bene. Pray tliee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauly ? Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it ; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it. Marg. To have no man come over me ! why, shall I al- ways keep below stairs ? Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound’s mouth ; it catches. Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer’s foils, which hit but hurt not. Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret ; it will not hurt a woman : and so, I pray tliee, call Beatrice : I give thee the bucklers. Marg. Give us the swords ; we have bucklers of our own. Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice ; and they are dangerous weapons for maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. Bene. And therefore will come. [Exit Margaret. [Sings] The god of love, That sits above, And knows me, and knows me. How pitiful I deserve, — I mean in singing ; but in loving, Leander the good swim- mer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole bookful of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme ; I have tried : I can find out no rhyme to “ lady” but “ baby,” an innocent rhyme ; for “scorn,” “horn,” a hard rhyme ; for “school,” “ fool,” a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. 41 Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? Beat'. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. 56 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. f ACT V. Bene. O, stay but till tlien ! Beat. * * Then ” is spoken ; fare you well now : and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came ; which is, with know- ing wliat hath passed between you and Claudio. 50 Bene. Only foul words : and thereupon I will kiss thee. Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but fo^l breath, and foul breath is noisome ; therefore 1 will de- part unkissed. Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge ; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me ? 61 Beat. For them all together ; which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to in- termingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me ? Bene. Suffer love ! a good epliitliet ! I do suffer love in- deed, for I love thee against my will. Beat. In spite of your heart, I think ; alas, poor heart ! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for you.s ; for I will never love that which my friend hates. Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. Beat. It appears not in this confession : there’s not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monu- ment than the bell rings and the widow weeps. Beat. And how long is that, think you ? Bene. Question : why, an hour in clamour and a quarter jn rheum . therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the con- trary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy . and now tell me, how doth your cousin? Beat. Very ill. Bene. And how do you? Beat. Very ill too. Bene. Serve Go.l, love me and mend. There will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula. TJn. Madam, you must conic to your uncle. Yonder’s old coil at home : it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused \ SCENE III.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 07 and Don John is the author of all, who is tied and gone. Will you come presently? Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap and be buried in thy eyes ; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle’s. {Exeunt. Scene III. A church . Enter Don Pedko, Claudio, and three or four with tapers. Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? A Lord. It is. my lord. Claud. {Beading out of a scroll .] Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero that li:re lies : Death, in guerdon >f her wrongs, Gives her fame which : . ever dies. So the life that died with chame Lives in death with .'yloriouc fame. ITansr thou there upon die ';omb. Praising her when I am dumb. 10 Now, music, sound, and sing your soiemn hymn. Song. Pardon, goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight ; For the which, with songs of woe. Hound her tomb they go. Midnight, assist our moan ; Help us to sigh and groan, Heavily, heavily . Graves, yawn and yield your dead, Till death be uttered, 20 Heavily, heavily. Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night ! Yearly will I do this rite. D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters ; put your torches out : The wolves have prey’d : and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters each his several way, JD. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds ; And then to Leonato’s wo will go. 31 58 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act y Claud. And Hymen now with, luckier issue speed's Than this for whom we rendered up this woe. [Exeunt. Scene IV. A room in Leonato’s house. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Marga- ret, Ursula, Friar Francis, and Hero. Eriar. Did I not tell you she was innocent? Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her Upon the error that you heard debated : But Margaret was in some fault for this. Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question. Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforced To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, 10 Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd. [Exeunt Ladies . The prince and Claudio promised by this hour r io visit me. You know your office, brother : You must be father to your brother’s daughter. And give her to young Claudio. Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. Friar. To do what, signior ? Bene . To bind me, or undo me : one of them. 20 Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior. Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. Leon. That eye my daughter lent her : 'tis most true. Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. Leon. The sight whereof I think you had from me, From Claudio and the prince : but wliat’s your will ? Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : But, for my will, my will is your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd In the state of honourable marriage : 80 In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. Leon. My heart is with your liking. Friar . And my help. Here comes the prince and Claudio. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, and two or three others. D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, prince ; good morrow, Claudio : We here attend you. Are you yet determined 59 SCENE IY.J MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter ? Claud. I’ll hold my mind, were she an Etliiope. Leon. Call her forth, brother ; here’s the friar ready. [Exit Antonio. JD. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter, 40 That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage bull. Tush, fear not, man ; we’ll tip thy horns with gold And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low ; And some such strange bull leap’d your father’s cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat 50 Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. Claud. For this I owe you : here comes other reckonings. Be-cnter Antonio, with the Ladies masked . Which is the lady I must seize upon ? Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she’s mine. Sweet, let me see your face. Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand Before this friar and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand . before this holy friar, I am your husband, if you like of me. Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife • 60 [ Unmasking . And when you loved, you were my other husband. Claud. Another Hero ! Hero. Nothing certainer : One Hero died defiled, but I do live. And surely as I live, I am a maid. D Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero that is dead ! Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. Friar. All this amazement can I qualify ; When after that the holy rites are ended, I’ll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death : Meantime let wonder seem familiar, 70 And to the chapel let us presently. Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice ? Beat. [ Unmasking ] I answer to that name. What is your will ? Bene. Do not you love me? Beat A Why, no ; no more than reason. 60 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. [act Bene. Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio Have been deceived ; they swore you did. Beat. Do not you love me ? Bene. Troth, no ; no more than reason. Beat. Why, then my cousin Margaret and Ursula Are much deceived ; for they did swear you did. Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me. 80 Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. Bene. ’Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me? Beat. No, truly, but in friendly lecompense. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. Claud. And I’ll be sworn upon’t that he loves her ; For here’s a paper written in liis own hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure br..in, Fashion’d to Beatrice. Hero. And here’s another Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. 90 Bene. A miracle ! here’s our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee ; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. Beat. I would not deny you ; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion ; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption. Bene. Peace ! I will stop your mouth. [Kissing her. T>. Pedro. How dost thou, Bened ck, the married man ? Bene. I’ll tell thee what, prince ; a college of wit crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a’ shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it ; and there- fore never flout at me for what I have said against it ; for man is a g ddv thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to In ve beaten thee ; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin. Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beat- rice, that I might have cudgelled t. ee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer ; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. Bene. Come, come, we are friends : let’s have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives’ heels. 121 Leon. We’ll have dancing afterward. Bene. First, of my word ; therefore play, music. • Prince, ueairanr.] MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 61 thou art sad ; get thee a wife, get thee a wife : there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta’en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow : I’ll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers. 130 \l)ance . Exeunt. - v.-v v ; . ■ \ / PUBLISHERS’ NOTICE. The text of this play is that of the “ Globe edition/' with the exception that in passages left conjectural by the Globe editors, the readings from the text of Dyce’s last edition are substituted. The numbering of the lines is that of the Globe edition, this numbering being now uni- versally accepted as the most convenient means of refer- ence to particular passages. The complete works of Shakespeare are being issued in three bound volumes, uniform with this play in type and size of page at the price of $1.50 in cloth, and $3.00 in half Russia, gih t v . The following plays are being issued in separate pamphlets, price three cents each : The Tempest. Much Ado about Nothing. A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The Merchant of Venice. \ You Like It. King John. King Henry V. King Richard ill. - King Henry VHL Romeo and Juliet. Julius Caesar. Macbeth. Hamlet. King Lear. Othello. Antony and Cleopatra AS REPRESENTED AT THE ITALIAN OPERA HOUSE, UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF MAX MARETZEK. PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. PUBLISHED AND SOLD EXCLUSIVELY At the Box Office of the Opera House. . ' ' i "• «; - 7 tiv , ytett , tfUtxZjs / /' p/XUo.SJfj fl; ARGUMENT. Othello, of Moorish birth, by his warlike talents and bravery had reached the highest rank in the army of the Republic of Venice, which on several occasions entrusted him with the command of her forces. Victo- rious in many battles, he could not fail to excite the envy of the patricians, who combined together to ruin him. Othello loved Desdemona, the daughter of Elmiro, and his love was by her secretly reciprocated. But her father, a powerful nobleman, wishing her to marry Roderigo, the son of another general of the army, joined Othello’s enemies, and succeeded in having him exiled. But this was far from satisfying the hatred of Iago, whose love had been rejected by Desdemona, and he meditated a more cruel vengeance. By the most subtle arts, working on the natural jealousy of the Moor, he succeeded in persuading him that his be- trothed was unfaithful to her vows ; and in order to con- vince him, showed a forged letter supposed to have been written by Desdemona to her new lover. Othello, bent on revenge, with the help of the traitor Iago, finds means to introduce himself into Desdemona’s apartments, and, maddened with jealousy, plunges a dagger in her heart, while in her sleep she dreams of love and Othello ; and, unwilling to survive her, kills himself with the same weapon. ... - — *. . . ■ . -J:i . .... _ , ' - -V , . . ' ‘ ; : -i •. - / ' - ' J’./l t&id * . ■ . dMjjelln DRAMATIS PERSONS. Otello, . . Signor Bellini, Desdemona, . Signora Bertucca Maretzek. Elmiro. . Rodrigo, . . Signor Marini. . Signor Vietti. Iago, Emil 4, . . Signor Beneventano, . Signora Avogadro. ATTO I. SCENA I. La Scena rappresenta la Piazzetta di San Marco , in fondo della quale fra le colonne si vede il Popolo , che attends festoso lo sbarco di Otello. Navi in distanza . Doge, Elmiro, Senatori; indi Otello, Iago, Rod- rigo, seguito dalle Schiere. Popolo. Viva Otello ! viva il prode Delle schiere invitto duce ! Or per lui di nuova luce Torna P Adria a sfolgorar* Lui guido virtu fra P armi ; Milito con lui fortuna : Si oscuro P Odrisia luna, Del suo brando al fulminar. [Sbarcato Otel., si avanza verso del Doge al suono d ) una marcia mili - tare, seguito da I Ago, e da Rod. ACT I. SCENE I. The Scene represents the Piazzetta of St Mark, at the extremity of which , between the two columns , is seen the People , who joyfully await the landing of Othello. Ships in the distance . Doge, Elmiro, Senators ; then Othello, Iago, Rode- rigo, followed by Soldiers . People. Long live Othello ! long live our valiant And unconquered leader ! Through him does Adria Shine again with new splendor. Valor in arms was his guide ; Fortune combatted at his side : The crescent of Odrissa has grown pale Beneath the lightning of his sword. [Oth., being landed , advances towards the Doge to the sound of military music, fol - * - lowed by Iago and Rod. OTELLO. Otel. Vincemmo, o padri. I perfidi nemici Caddero estinti. A1 lor furor ritolsi, Sicura ormai d ? ogni futura offesa, Cipro, di questo suol forza e difesa. NulP altro a oprar mi resta. Ecco vi rendo L’ acciar temuto, e delle vinte schiere Depongo al vostro piede, armi e bandiere. Doge. Qual premio al tuo valor Chieder potrai 7 Otel. Mi compensaste assai NelP affidarvi in me. D ? Affrica figlio, Qui straniero son io. Ma se ancor serbo Un cor degno di voi ; se questo suolo Piu cbe patria rispetto, ammiro ed amo, M’ abbia P Adria qual figlio ; altro non bramo. Iago. (Che superba richiesta !) Rod. (Ai voti del mio cor fatale & questa !) Doge. Tu d’ ogni gloria il segno Vincitor trascorresti ; il brando invitto Riponi al fianco, e gia delP Adria figlio Vieni tra i plausi a coronarti il crine Del meritato alloro. Rod. (Dunque perder dovro colei che adoro ?) [a Iago. Otel. Ah ! si, per voi gia sento Nuovo valor nel petto : Per voi d ? un nuovo affetto Sento infiammarsi il cor. Premio maggior di questo Da me sperar non lice. (Ma allor sard felice Quando il coroni amor.) OTHELLO. 9 Oth. Fathers, we have conquered. Our perfidious enemies Have fallen, to rise no more. I have rescued from their fury Cyprus, the strength and defence of this soil, And have secured it from every future invasion. Nothing now remains for me to do. Here, then, I return you The dreaded sword, and place at your feet The arms and banners of the vanquished foe. Doge. Ah ! how can I reward such noble valor ? Oth. Sufficiently am I compensated By the confidence you have reposed in me, A son of Africa, I am but a stranger here ; but if there beats in this bosom A heart worthy of you ; if, more than my native soil, This land claims my respect, admiration, and love, Let Adria own me as her son : I ask no more. I ago. (How presumptuous a request !) Rod. (How fatal to the wishes of my heart !) Doge. Returned as conqueror, thou hast past The bright goal of glory ; let thine unconquered sword Repose at thy side : and, even now as a son of Adria, come amid the voice of applause to crown Thy brow with the laurel so justly merited. Rod. (Then shall I lose her I adore !) \to Xago. Oth. Ah ! yes, in your behalf I feel A new-born ardor animate my bosom : In your behalf the flame of valor Burns with fresh brightness in my heart. For a higher reward than this It is not allowed me to hope. (But then only shall I be happy When love crowns the wishes of my heart.) 1 * 10 Popo. Iago. Otel. Elm. Rod. Elm. Rod. Elm. otello. Non indugiar ; t ’ affretta : Deh ! vieni a trionfar. [Rod. nel massimo dispetto viene trattenuto da Iago. (T* affrenna ; la vendetta Cauti dobbiam celar.) (Deh Amor, dirada il nembo Cagion di tanti affanni ; Comincia co’ tuoi vanni La speme a ravvivar.) Senatori e Popolo. Non indugiar ; t 5 affretta : Deh vieni a trionfar. [ Parte Otel. seguito da' Senatori dal Po- polo. SCENA II. Elmiro e Rodrigo. Rodrigo ! Elmiro ! Ah padre mio ! deh ! lascia Che un tale nome ti dia, se al mio tesoro Desti vita si cara ; Ma Desdemona che fa mai, che dice 1 Si ricorda di me ? Saro felice 1 Ah, che dirti poss’ io ! Sospira, piange, e la cagion mi cela Dell’ occulto suo duol. Ma in parte almeno — Arrestarmi non posso : odi lo squillo Delle trombe guerriere : Alla pubblica pompa ora degg’ io Volgere il pid : ci rivedremo ; addio. OTHELLO. n Peo. Delay not ; haste thee : 0 come away to triumph ! [Rod., transported with rage ) is withheld hy Iago. Iago. (Restrain thyself ; let our revenge Be cautiously concealed.) Oth. (0 love ! disperse the storm That has been the cause of all my woes ; Upon thy pinions Let hope be wafted to me.) Senators and People, . Delay not : haste thee ; O come away to triumph. [Exit Oth., followed by Senators and the People . SCENE II. Elmiro and Roderigo. Elm. Roderigo ! Rod. Elmiro ! 0 my father ! Nay, allow To call thee by this name, since my heart’s best treasure From thee derived her existence. But what of Desdemona 1 what says she 1 Does she remember me 1 shall I be happy 1 Elm. Ah, what can I say to thee ! She sighs, she weeps, but conceals from me The cause of her secret grief. Rod. But in part, at least — Elm. I cannot now delay ; I hear the sound Of the warlike trumpet. To the public pomp I must now Hasten : we shall meet again. Adieu. 12 OTELLO. SCENA III. Stanza nel Palazzo di Elmiro. Desdemona sola. Des. Misera, qual tumulto io provo in sen ! L ? ora s’ appresta omai Da cui dipende la mia sorte. Oh Dio ! qual funesto ommaggio m’agita il core Fra il giubbilo commune, io sola Hai cassa palpito — tremo — E in Slice giorno funeste larve Solo mi vedo intorno. Alma invitta, ah non paventa Il furor di sorte irata, Nel crudel fatal cimento Il valor maggior diventa ; N& il timore, n& il pentimento Vacillar fanno il mio cor. Ah! se vedo il caro bene, Qual maggior felicita ! Piu non sente le sue pene, N& piu bramar il cor non sa. Un istante ancora, oh Dio ! Il mio ben qui tonera. Oh qual momento ! oh qual momento ! Ah, se vedo il caro bene Qual maggior felicita ! Piu non sente le sue pene, Piu bramar il cor non sa. Del destin il reo furore Paventar mai non mi ! OTHELLO. 13 SCENE III. A Room in Elmiro’s Palace . m Desdemona alone. Des. Ah me unhappy ! what anguish do I feel ! The hour fast approaches, On which my fate depends. Oh Heavens ! what unhappy forebodings I have ! Amidst the common joy, — I alone Am unhappy, and tremble : On this happy day for others, I alone have afflicting presages ! My unconquered heart, ah, do not fear The frowns of adverse fate ; For in the midst of trials, Courage brighter appears ; Neither fear nor pain Shall cause my heart to waver. Ah, if I could see my beloved, It would be happiness indeed ; No more anguish of mind, then— No more palpitations of my heart ! 0 pitying Heaven, one only moment Grant to my love ! Oh what happy moments ! Ah, if I could see my beloved, It would be happiness indeed ! No more anguish of mind, then — No more palpitations of the heart ; The fury of my unhappy fate, 1 should no longer fear. 14 OTELLO. SCENA IV. Emilia e detta . Emi. Carco cP allori * A noi riede il tuo bene. Odi, d 5 intorno Come P Adria festeggia in si bel giorno ! Des. Ma che miro ? eeco a noi, che incerto i passi Muove il perfido Iago : Fuggiam ; si eviti : ei rintraccia potria Sul mio volto, P amor, la pena mia. [. Partona . SCENA V. Iago, indi Rodrigo, epoi Elmiro. Iago. Fuggi — sprezzami pur : piu non mi euro Della tua destra — Un tempo a ? voti miei Utile la credei — Tu mi sprezzasti Per un vile Affricano, e cid ti basti. Ti pentirai, lo giuro ; Tutti servir dovranno a ? miei disegni GP involati d ? amor furtivi pegni. Ma Rodrigo a me riede. Rod. Ma il genitor dov’ & ? Iago. Miralo, ei viene. Elm. Giunto e, Rodrigo, il fortunato istante, In cui dovrai di sposo Da la destra a mia figlia ; L 5 amista mel consiglia, OTHELLO. 15 SCENE IV. Emilia and the above . Emi. Crowned with laurels, Thy beloved returns to us. Hark, how around Adria testifies its joy on this happy day ! Des. But what do I see 1 behold with hesitating step The perfidious Iago comes towards us ; Let us fly, let us avoid him : he might trace On my countenance the sorrows of love. [ Exeunt . SCENE V. Iago, then Roderigo, and afterwards Elmiro. Iago. Thou fliest, thou despisest me : I no longer care For the hand I sought — there was a time when I thought it Useful to my wishes — thou hast despised me For a vile African, and this is enough. Thou shalt repent thee, I swear it ; The secret pledges of love, which I have care- fully kept, Shall all be made to serve my purpose : But Roderigo returns. Rod. Knowest thou where I may find the father of my beloved one 1 Iago. See, he comes. Elm. Roderigo, the fortunate moment has arrived When the hand of my daughter Shall be given thee in marriage. OTELLO. 16 II dover, la vertude, E quelP odio clP io serbo Per P Affrican superbo : in siem congiunti Per sangue e por amor, facil ne fia Opporsi al suo poter : ma tu procura A1 padre tuo, che invitto, e armatto riede In sulP Adriaco soglio Svelar le trame ed il nascoso orgoglio. Rod. Ah si, tutto faro. Elm. Iago, t 5 affretta A compir P imeneo : a parte sei Delle mie brame e de ? disegni miei. Rod. Ah di qual gioja acceso io sento il petto ! Quanto saro felice ! Elm. Io tel prometto. SCENA YI. Sola . Coro di Dame e Gentiluomini, amici e conjidenti d 1 Elmiro ; indi Elmiro, Desdemona, Emilia, e Rodrigo. Tutto il Coro . Santo Imen ! tu guidi amore Due belP alme ad annodar. DelP amore il dolce ardore Tu procura di eternar. Parte del Coro , Senza lui divien tiranno Il tuo nobile poter. OTHELLO. 17 Friendship, duty and virtue oblige me to it, And the hate I bare to the proud African : Joined by the ties of love and consanguinity, It will be easy to oppose his power. But do thou endeavor that thy father, Who armed the Adriatic court, Should discover this plot, And this hidden ambition. Rod. Yes, all shall be done. Elm. Haste, lago, to accomplish the marriage : Thou art on the brink of my wishes and my de- signs. Rod. Ah, what an excess of joy ! What felicity awaits me ! Elm. I give thee my word. SCENE VI. Saloon . Chorus of Ladies and Gentlemen , the friends and conji* dants of Elmiro ; then Elmiro, Desdemona, Emi- lia, and Roderigo. The whole Chorus . 0 sacred Hymen ! love guides thee To unite two loving hearts. It is time to render eternal The sweet ardors of love. Part of Chorus . Without him, thy noble power Would degenerate into tyranny. OTELLO, 18 Altra Parte . Senza lui cagion di affanno E ? d’ amore ogni piacer. Tutti . Qual momento di contento ! Tra P amore ed il valore Resta attonito il pensier ! Des. Dove son 1 che mai veggo ? Il cor non mi tradi ? Elm. Tutta or riponi La tua fiducia in me. Padre a te sono : Ingannarti non posso. Eterna fede Giura a Rodrigo : egli la rnerta, ei solo Puo renderti felice. Rod. (Che mai dira ? — ) Emi. (Qual cenno !) Des. (Oh me infelice !) Elm. Appaga i voti mieti ; in te riposo. Des. (Oh natura ! oh dover ! oh legge ! oh sposo !) Elm. Nel cor d ? un padre amante Riposa, amata. figlia : E 5 amor che mi consiglia La tua felicita. Rod. Confusa e P alma mia Tra tanti dubbj e tanti ; Solo in si fieri istanti Reggermi amor portra. Des. Padre — tu — brami — oh Dio ! Che la sua mano accetti % (A’ miei tiranni affetti Chi mai resistera ?) Elm. (Si arresta ! — ahim& ! — sospira ! Che mai temer degg* io ? Rod. Tanto soffrir, ben mio, Tanto il mio cor dovra ? Des. Deh taci ! — OTHELLO. 19 Another Part . Without him, all the joys of love Would but prove the occasion of sorrow. All Thrice happy moment ! At the view of such love and valor The mind remains filled with admiration. Des. Where am I ? what do I behold ? Surely my heart has not betrayed 1 Elm. Place all thy Confidence in me. I am thy father: I cannot deceive thee. Pledge eternal faith To Roderigo ; he deserves it — he alone Can render thee happy. Rod. (What did she say ?) — Emx. (How dreadful a command !) Des. (Wretch that I am !) Elm. F ulfil the wishes of my heart ; I repose in thee, Des. (0 nature ! O duty ! 0 law ! O spouse !) Elm. Repose, o beloved daughter, In the heart of a loving father : It is love that counsels me To consult thy happiness. Rod. My soul is confused Amidst a thousand distracting doubts ; At so trying a moment as this Love alone can support me. Des. Father — is it thy will — 0 Heavens ! That I should accept his hand ? (To affections so tyrannic as mine Who could persist 1) Elm. (She hesitates ! — alas ! — she sighs ! What have I not to fear ?) Rod. Canst thou, my beloved one, Cause such anguish to his heart ? Des. Prithee, peace ! — 20 OTELLO. Elm. (Che veggo ?) Rod. (Mi sprezza !) Elm. (Resiste !) Rod. \ (0 ciel ! da te chieggo Des. ( Soccorso — pieta.) Elm. Deh, giura. Des. Che chiedi I Rod. Ah ! vieni — Des. Che pena ! Elm. Se al padre non cedi, Punirti sapra. Rod. Ti parli V amore : Non essermi infida : Quest’ alma a te fida Piu pace non ha. Elm. D’ un padre P amore Ti serva di guida : Al padre t’ affida, Che pace non ha. Des. Del fato il rigore A pianger mi guida : Quest’ alma a lui fida Piu pace non ha. SCENA VII. Otello nel fond /) , seguito da alcuni suoi detti. Otel. L’ infida ! ahime che miro 1 A1 mio rivale accanto ! — Elm. Figlia ! Rod. Ti muova il pianto ; Ti muova il mio dolor ! Elm. Risolvi — Otel. Io non resisto ! Seg . Frenanti — Elm. Ingrata figlia ! Compagniy e OTHELLO. 21 Elm. (What do I see ?) Rod. (She scorns me !) Elm. (She resists !) Rod. ( (0 Heavens ! I implore Des. ( Pity and aid at thy hands.) Elm. Come, swear. Des. What dost thou command? Rod. Ah, come — Des. What anguish ! Elm. If thou yield not to thy father, He will know how to punish thee. Rod. Let love whisper to thy heart : Be not unfaithful to me : Constant to thee, this soul Can else taste of peace no more. Elm. Let the love of a father Serve as an example to thee : Repose in thy father, Who else can taste of peace no more. Des. The rigor of fate Overwhelms me with affliction : Unless faithful to him, I can taste of peace no more. SCENE VII. Othello at the extremity of the Stage, followed by some of his companions, and the above. Oth. The ungrateful one ! alas, what do I see ? Beside my rival ! — Elm. Daughter ! Rod. Let my tears move thee ; Let my anguish soften thee. Elm. Resolve — Oth. I can resist no longer ! Attend . Withhold — Elm. Ungrateful daughter ! 22 QTELLO. Rod. Des. Tutti. Elm. Otel. Tutti . Elm. Otel. Elm. Des. Rod. Otel. Rod. Otel. Elm. Des. Elm. Rod. Elm. Otel. Rod. ( O Dio ! chi mi consiglia ? ( Chi mi da forza al cor I A1 rio destin rubelio Chi mai sottrarla puo \ Deh, giura — Ah ! ferma — Otello ! II core in sen geld ! Che brami 1 — II suo core — Amore mel diede, E amore lo chiede, Che ardire ! Che affanno ! QualP alma superba ! Rammenta — mi serba Intatta la fd. E qual diritto mai, Perfido, su quel core Nantar con me potrai, Per renderlo infedel ? Virtu, costanza, amore ; II dato giuramento. Misero me, che sento ? Giurasti 1 — E ? ver ; giurai — ( Per me non hai piu fulmini ( Inesorabil ciel ! Vieni — T’ arresta — Invanno L ? avrai tu mio nemico — Empia ! — ti maledico — [a Des. Elm. OTHELLO. 28 Rod. Des. All. Elm. Oth. All. Elm. Oth. Elm. Des. Rod. Oth. Rod. Oth. Elm. Des. Elm. Rod. Elm. Oth. Rod. Elm. < 0 Heavens ! who will counsel me 7 £ Who will support my fainting heart 7 From so severe a destiny Who can rescue her 7 Come, swear — Ah ! hold— Othello ! — My heart freezes within me ! What wouldst thou 7 — Her heart— Love gave it me ; And love demands it, Elmiro, from thee. What presumption ! What anguish ! Thou haughty spirit ! Remember — reserve to me \to Des. Thy faith inviolate. And what right hast thou, Perfidious man ! to dispute with me That heart, and strive To render it unfaithful 7 Virtue, constancy, love : The oath she pledged me. Wretch that I am, what do I hear 7 Thy oath 7 — It is true ; I have sworn — Inexorable Heaven Has exhausted its bolts upon me ! Come — Hold- In vain Dost thou seek to be united to my foe. Wretched woman, my curse be on thee — 24 OTELLO. Tutti Che giorno, ohim6 — d’ orror ! Incerta P anirna Vacilla e geme ; La dolce speme Fuggi dal cor. Rod. Parti, crudel ! Otel. Ti sprezzo ! \a Rod, Des. Padre ! — Elm. Non v ? & perdono. Rod. Or or vedrai chi sono. Otel. Paventa il mio furor. Tutti . Smanio, deliro, e trerao. No, non fu mai piu fiero D ? un rio destin severo II barbaro rigor ! [Elm. prende Des. e. la conduce via; ella , rimirando con dolcezza Otel. si allontana da lui. FINE DELL* ATTO PRIMO. OTHELLO. 25 All . Alas ! what a day of horror ! My mind fluctuates In cruel uncertainty ; My heart bids adieu To the sweets of hope. Rod. Away, cruel one ! Oth. I despise thee ! [to Rod. Des. Father !— Elm. It is too late for pardon. Rod. Soon shalt thou see who I am. Oth. Learn to dread my anger. All . I rage, I rave, I tremble with alarm. Never did the severities Of destiny light more severely On a devoted head. [Elm. takes Des. and leads her away . She retires , casting a look of tenderness on Oth. END OF THE FIRST ACT. 26 OTELLO. ATT 0 II. SCENA I. Girardino net Palazzo d 1 Otello. Otello, poi Iago. Otel. Che feci ? ove mi trasse Un disperato amor 1 io gli proposi La gloria, P onor mio ! Ma che : mia non b forse ? in faecia al cielo Fede non mi giuro 2 non diem mi in pegno La sua destra, il suo cor 2 potrd lasciarla Obliaria potro 2 potro soffrire Vederla in braccio d ? altri e non morire ? Iago. Perch& rnesto cosi 2 — scuotiti. Ah, mostra Che Otello alfin tu sei. Otel. Lasciami in preda Al mio crudel destin. Iago. Del suo rigore Hai ragion di lagnarti ; Ma tu non dei, benehe nemico il fato, Cader, per nostro scorno, invendicato. Otel. Che mai far deggio? OTHELLO. 27 Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. ACT II. SCENE I. Gardens at Othello’s Palace . Othello, afterwards Iago. What have I done ? Where would my despairing Passion lead me to ? For her I abandon both glory and honor ! But what ! is she not mine 7 Before Heaven did she not Swear to me her faith, — did She not bestow her hand, Her heart on me ? can I leave her — Can I forget her ? can I Suffer to behold her in the Embrace of another, and not Die 1 Why thus sad ? — arouse thyself. Ah, show Thyself Othello once again. Leave me a prey To the severity of my fate. Of its rigor Thou hast doubtless cause to complain ; But it ill becomes thee, hostile as is thy destiny, To disgrace us by falling unrevenged. What wouldst thou have me to do 1 28 Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. otello. Ascoltami — die pensi ?— In te stesso ritorna — I tuoi trionfi Di difesa ti son- — sono bastanti I tuoi nemici ad atterrir — a farti Sprezzare ogni altro affetto. Quai terribili accenti ! L ? interrotto parlare, i dubbj tuoi, L 5 irresoluto volto — In quanti affanni involto Hanno il mio cor ! Spiegati. Ah non tenermi In si fiera incertezza. Altro dirti non so ; dal labbro mio Altro chieder non dei. Chieder non deggio — oil Dio ! quanto accresse II mio timor dal tuo silenzio ! — Ah, forse L’ infida ! E perchfe cerchi Nuova cagion d ? affanni ? Tu m 5 uccidi cosi. Meno in felice Sarei, se il vero io conoscessi. Ebbene Il vuoi ? Ti appaghero — che dico ? io gelo ! Parla una volta. O quale arcano io svelo ! Ma P amista lo chiede ; Io cedo all 5 amista. Deh sappi — Ah taci !— Ahim6 ! tutto compresi. E che farai ? Vendicarmi, e morir. Morir non dei ; E indisprezzarla avrai vendetta intera. OTHELLO. 29 Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Hear me — why thus pensive 7 — Be thyself again — thy triumphs Are sufficient to supprt thee — are sufficient To abash thine enemies — to make thee Despise every other affection. How terrible are thy words ! Thy hesitating manner, thy doubts, Thy changeful brow — How deep an emotion have they awakened In my breast ! Explain thyself. Ah keep me not In such cruel uncertainty. More I cannot tell thee ; more thou Shouldst not require my lips to utter. Should not require — O Heavens ! how does Thy silence increase my alarm ! Ah, perchance The faithless one ! Nay, why seek For fresh occasions of sorrow 7 Torture me no longer. I shall be less wretched If I learn the whole truth. Well, then, Dost thou wish it 7 I will satisfy thee ! What do I say 7 — A chill overspreads me ! Nay, speak out at once. Of what a secret am I the bearer ! But friendship demands it ; I yield to the call of friendship. Know then — Ah, hold, hold ! — Alas, I comprehend all. And what wilt thou do 7 Avenge myself, or perish. Perish thou must not ; And in treating her with scorn thou wilt have sufficient revenge. 30 OTELLO. Otel. Ma non tremenda e fiera, QualP io la bramo, quale amor la chiede — Ma sicuro son io del suo delitto. \Gon incertezza. Ah) se tal fosse ! — guai a me — Tu, Iago, Mi comprendi ; e il tradermi sara Delitto ancora in te. I ago* Deli ! die mai pensi ? Confuso io son — un pegno — Questo foglio per me — [Gli da unfoglio . Otel. Chemiro? Oh Dio I Si, di sua man son queste Le crudeii d ? amor cifro funeste. Non nr inganno, al mio rivale IP infedel vergato ha il foglio — Piu non reggo al mio cordoglio ! — Io mi sento lacerar ! Iago. (Gia la fiera gelosia Verso tutto il suo veleno, Tutto gia gP inconda il seno, E mi guida a trionfar.) Otel. ( legge .) “ Caro bene” — e ardisci, ingrata ! Iago. (Nel suo ciglio il cor gli veggo.) Otel. u Ti son fida” — Ahim6 ! che leggo ? Quali smanie io sento al cor ! Iago. (Quanta gioja io sento al cor !) Otel. Tu nomasti un pegno — Oh cielo ! Iago. (Cresce in lui P atroce sdegno.) Otel. Dov ? mai P orribil pegno? Iago. Ecco — il cedo con orror ! [ Gli dd un fazzoletto . Otel. No, piu crudele un ? aniina — OTHELLO . 31 Oth. But not that terrible and fierce revenge Which I desire, and which love demands — But I am not certain of her crime. [ Hesitatingly . Ah, should it be so ! — wo betide thee — Thou Iago, Thou dost understand me ; to betray rne Would be no less a crime in thee. Iago. Of what art thou thinking ? I am all confusion — this pledge — This letter for me will — [ Gives him a letter . Oth. What do I see ? O Heavens ! Yes, her own hand it was that traced These fatal characters of love. I am not deceived ; this letter The faithless one has sent to my rival — I can no longer restrain my feelings — What anguish rends my bosom, Iago. (Already has fierce jealousy Poured out all his poison To infect his bosom, And guides me to triumph.) Oth. {reads.) “ My dear love” — and durst the un- grateful one ! ^ Iago. (All his soul is painted on his brow.) Oth. u To thee am I faithful” — Ah! what do I read? What agonies do I feel in my heart ! Iago. (What joy do I feel in my heart !) Oth. Thou didst name a pledge — O Heavens ! Iago. (The flame of his wrath increases.) Oth. Where is the horrid pledge ? Iago. Behold it — it is with horror I give it thee ! [ Gives him a hankerchief Oth. No, a soul more cruel — • OTELLO. 82 Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. Otel. Iago. " (No piu con ten ta un’ anima— No, che giammai si vide !) II cor mi si divide ^Per tanta crudelta. (Proprizio il ciel arride ; L’ indegna, ah si cadra.) Che far degg ? io ? Ti calma. Lo speri in van. Che dici ? Spinto da furie ultrici Puniria alfin saprdy Ed oserai 1 Lo giuro. E amore — Io pin nol euro. T ? affida ; i tuoi netnici Or dunque abbatterb. U ira d’ avverso fato Io piu non temero ; Morro, ma vindicato ; Si — dopo lei morro. (L J ira d> avverso fato Temer piu non dovro : Io son gia vendicato, Di lui trionfero.) [Parte. OTHELLO, 33 Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. Iago. (No, a soul more gratified — Could nowhere be found !) My heart is rent asunder By cruelty such as this. (Heaven smiles propitious on me ; Yes, perish the wretch !) What ought I to do ? Be composed. In vain dost thou hope it. What say’st thou I Urged on by the avenging Furies, I shall know how to punish her. And wilt thou attempt it ? I swear it. And love — I am reckless now of that. Take confidence ; and soon I will Humble thy enemies. I have nothing more malignant To dread from the severity of fate ; I shall die, but avenged ; Yes — after her I shall die. (I have nothing farther to dread From the severity of fate : Now I am revenged ; Now shall I triumph.) 2 * 34 OTELLO. Otel. Rod. Otel. Rod. Otel. Rod. Otel. SCENA II. Otello solo, indi Rodrigo. E a tanto giunger puote V Un ingannevol cor ! — Ma-chi s’ avanza ? Rodrigo — e che inai brami 1 — A te ne vengo Tuo nemico, se il vuoi : Ma al mio voler se cedi, Tuo amico, e difensor. Uso non sono A mentire, a tradir. Io ti disprezzo, Nemico, o difensor. (O che baldanza !) [a parte. Non mi conosci ancor 1 Si, ti conosco, Percio non ti pavento ; Sol disprezzo, il ripeto, io per te sento. Ah vieni, nel tuo sangue Vendichero le offese : Se un vano amor ti accese, Distrugglerio sapro. Or or vedrai qual chiudo Giusto furor nel seno ; Si, vendicarmi appieno Di lei, di te dovo. a 2. Qual gioja ! all’ armi ! all’ armi ! Il traditor gi^ parmi Veder trafitto al suol. OTHELLO. 85 Oth. Rod. Oth. Rod. Oth. Rod. Oth. SCENE II. Othello alone , then Roderigo. And could her deceitful heart Lead her to do this ! — but who comes ? Roderigo — what wouldst thou with me 1 I come to thee As thy enemy, if thou so wishes t it : But if thou wilt yield to my request, As thy friend and defender. I am not used To lie and betaiy. I dispise thee. Friend or foe. (Oh what presumption !) [aside. Knowest thou me not as yet i Yes, I know thee, And therefore it is I fear thee not : Scorn, I repeat it, is all I feel towards thee. Come on then ; with thy blood I will avenge my wrongs. If a foolish love inflame thee, I shall know how to extinguish it. Shortly shalt thou see what just Indignation I carry in my bosom : Yes, I will at once be revenged Upon her, and upon thee, a 2. What joy ! To arms ! to arms ! Already I seem to behold The traitor weltering on the earth. 38 OTEL1A Des. Rod. Otel, Des. Otel. Rod. Otel. Des. Otel. Des. Otel. e Rod. Des. SCENA III. Desdemona, e detti. Aim& ! fermate — udite — Solo il mio cor ferite, Cagion di tanto duol. a 3. ” Che fiero punto e questo ! e J L’indegna a me d 5 innante ! Pinta ha sul reo sembiante L Tutta P infedelta. Che fiero punto e questo ! L 5 ingrato a me d 5 innante Non cangia di sembiante ! Misera ! che sera ? Deh, seguimi. Ti seguo. Son pago alfin. T 5 arresta ! Vanne ! Che pena & questa I Che fiera erudelta ! a 3. " Tra tante smanie e tante, Quest 5 alma mia delira ; Victo e l 5 amor dall 5 ira, Spira vendetta il cor. Tra tante smanie e tante, Quest 5 alma, che delira, Su i labbri miei gia spira, Sento mancarmi il cor. [arrestandoli. [Partono . [ sviene . OTHELLO. 87 Des. Rod. Oth. Des. Oth. Rod. Oth. Des. Oth. Des. Oth. Rod. Des. SCENE III. Desdemona, and the above . Alas ! hold — hear me — [Arresting them. Strike to this heart alone, The cause of all these ills. a 8. " What a moment of agony is this ! The unfaithful one before me ! She has all her infidelity Depicted on her countenance. What a moment of agony is this ! The ungrateful one before me Changes not his countenance ! Wretch that I am, what will become of me 1 Come, follow me. I follow thee ! At length I am avenged. h Hold! Hence ! What torture is this ? What unsparing barbarity ! a 8. r Beneath such overwhelming woes This soul is driven to madness ; Love gives place to wrath, w The heart breathes nothing but vengeance. [Exeunt. Beneath such overwhelming woes, This soul driven even to madness, Even now flutter on my lip ; I feel my spirit fail me. [^STh? faints. 88 OTELLO. SCENA IV. Emilia, e delta ; indi Coro di Popolo , poi Elmiro. Emi. Desdemona ! cue veggo ? e fuor de, sensi — Pallor di morte le ricopre il volto ! Mirera che faro ? clii mi soccorre 1 Quale ajuto recarle 1 0 tu, delP alma mia parte piu cara, Ascoltami ! deh riedi a questo seno — La tua arnica ti chiama — Ah, non responde ! Gelo e il petto e la man — chi me la invola ? — Quel barbaro dov’ e ? — vorrei — che miro l Apre i languidi lumi. O ciel, respiro ! Des. Chi sei ? — Emi. Non mi conosci 1 Des. Emilia ! Emi. Ah quella, Quella appunto sorr io. In si fatal periglio Deh segui i passi miei. Des. Ma potro mai Rivederlo ? — abbracciarlo ? — Ah, se nol sai, Vanne, cerca, procura— Emi. E che mai chiedi 1 Des. Non so — confusa, oppressa, In me no siu ritrovar me stessa ! Che smania ! aim^, che affanno ! Chi mi soccorre ? Oh, Dio ! Per sempre, alii, P idol mio Per der cosi dovro 1 OTHELLO. 89 SCENE IV. Emilia and the above ; then a Chorus of the People: afterwards Elmiro. Emi. What do I see ? it is Desdemona ! she is out of herself — The paleness of death is on her countenance ! Wretch ! what shall I do ? who will aid me ? Where shall I seek for help ? 0 thou, the dearer half of my soul, — Hear me ! return to this bosom — Thy friend calls thee — alas she answers not ! Her bosom and her hand are cold ! — Who has snatched her from me ? — Where is the barbarian '? — would to Heaven — What do I see ? — She opens her languid eyes. O Heavens ! breathe again. Des. Who art thou ? Emi. Dost thou not know me ? Des. Emilia ! Emi. Yes, yes ; the same, the same ; Surrounded as thou art with perils, Come, follow my footsteps ; Save thyself, for pity’s sake. Des. But shall I ever Behold him again ? — embrace him again I — • Ah, if thou knowest not, Go, seek, find him — Emi. And whom dost thou seek ? Des. I know not. Confused, overwhelmed, 1 no longer recognise my former self ! What delirium ! what anguish ! Who will succor me 1 O Heavens ! And am I then doomed for ever To lose the idol of my heart? 40 OTELLO. Barbara ciel tiranno ! Da me se lo dividi, Salvalo almen : me uccidi : Contenta io moriro. Qual nuova a me recate ? Men fiero se parlate, Si rende il mio dolor. [Al Coro che arriva. Coro. Frema il mio core e tace. Des. De ? detti & piu loquace — E quel silenzio an cor — Che smania ohime ! che affanno ! Chi mi soccorre, oh Dio ? Per sempre hai P idol mio Perder cosi dovrd ? Men fiero se parlate, Si rende il mio dolor. De’ detti piu loquace, E quel silenzio ancor. Ah ditemi almen voi — Coro . Che mai saper tu vuoi ? Des. Se vive il mio tesor. Coro . Vive, serena il ciglio — Des. Salvo dal suo periglio ? Altro non chiede il cor. Elm. Qui ! — indegna ! Des. (Il genitore !) Elm. Del mio tradito onore Come non hai rossor ? Coro . Oh ciel ! qual nuovo orror ! Des. L’error d’ un infelice Pietoso in me perdona : Se il padre m’ abbandona, Da chi sperar pietA ? OTHELLO. 41 Cho. Des. Cho. Des. Cho. Des. Elm. Des. Elm. Cho. Des. Cruel, unpitying powers ! If ye tear him from me, At least save him : kill me at once : I shall die content. What tidings do you bring? Less distressing is it, if you speak — Less the anguish of my mind. [2b the Chorus entering . The heart shudders, and is silent But words are more eloquent — And still this silence — What madness, alas ! what trouble ! Heavens ! who will assist me ? Ought I for ever thus to lose The idol of my heart ? My grief is less poignant, if you speak, And less the trouble of my mind. Words are far more eloquent, And still this silence is observed. Ah, tell me, you at least — What wouldst thou know ? If the treasure of my heart still lives. He lives — clear that sorrowing brow. Is he, then, safe from danger ? My heart asks no more. What, here ! — worthless woman ! (My father !) Has thou no shame Of having betrayed my honor ? O Heavens ! what new horror is this ? Have compassion on me, And pardon the errors of an unhappy woman If my father desert ine, Where am I to look for pity ? 42 OTELLO. Elm. No, die pieta non ineriti : Vedrai fra pono, ingrata, Qual pen a & riserbata Per chi virtu non ha. Des. Palpita il cor nel petto, A quel severo aspetto Piu reggere non sa ! Elm. Odi, furor, dispetto, Han la pieta nel petto Cangiata in crudelta. Coro . Se nutre nel suo petto Un impudico affetto, Giusta & la crudelta. FINE DELl/ ATTO SECONDO. OTHELLO. Elm. No, thou art unworthy of pity ; Thou shalfc shortly see, ungrateful one, What punishment is reserved For those who abandon their duty. Des. How my heart throbs in my bosom ! At that look of severity I can no longer contain myself. Elm. Hate, fury, indignation, Have changed every feeling of pity In this bosom into cruelty. Clio . If she cherishes in her bosom An unlawful affection, Such cruelty is just. END OF THE SECOND ACT. 44 OTELLO. ATTO III. SCENA I. Stanza da letto . Emilia, e Desdemona in semplicissime vesti abbando - nata sic di una sedia , ed immersa nel pin jiero dolor e. Desdemona e Emilia. Des*. All ! Emi. Dagli affanni oppressa Parmi faor di se stessa ! Che mai faro ? Chi mi consiglia ! 0 Cielo, Perche tanto ti mostri a noi severo ? Des. Ah ! no, di rivederlo io piu non spero ! Emi. Rincorati : ascolta : in me tu versa Tutto il tuo duol ; nelP amista soltanto Puoi ritrovar alcun conforto : Ah, parla. Des. Che mai dirti poss ? io ? Ti parli il mio dolore — il pianto mio. Emi* Quanto mi fai pieta ! ma almen procura Da saggia die tu sei Di dar tregua per poco aile tue pene. OTHELLO. 45 ACT III. SCENE I. A Bedroom. Emilia Desdemona, in simple attire , stretched on a seat , and buried in the deepest grief. Desdemona and Emilia. Des. Ah ! Emi. She appears to be oppressed With sorrow and affliction ! What shall I do ? No one to advise me ! Oh Heaven ! why dost thou show Thyself so severe towards us ? Des. Ah, no, I shall never hope to see him more ! Emi. Take courage : hear me : Let me partake in thy grief : It is in friendship only That thou wilt find some comfort. Ah, speak. Des. What can I reveal to thee I My tears and sorrows speak to thee. Emi. How I commiserate in thy misfortures ! But, at least, let thy good sense Govern this excess of crief. 46 OTJ3LLO. Des. Che dici 1 die mai pensi ? in odio al cielo, A mio padre, a me stessa : a duro esiglio, Condannato per sempre, il earo sposo Come trovar poss’ io tregua, o riposo ! [Seniesi di lungi il Oondoliere , che scioglie all 1 aura un dolce canto . Gon . “ Nessun maggior dolore 44 Che ricordarsi del tempo felice u Nella miseriaP’* [Des. a quel canto si scuote, Des. Oh ! come infino al core Giungon quei dolci accenti ! [Alzdsi, e con trasnorto si avvicina alia fines- tra. Chi sei che cosi canti ? — Ah, tu rammenti Lo stato mio crudele ! Emi. E’ il gondoliere, che cantando, inganna Il cammin sulla placida laguna Pensando ai figli, mentre il ciel s’ imbruna. Des. Isaura ! — Isaura ! Emi. Essa P arnica appella, Che all’ Affrica involata a se vicina Qui crebbe, e qui mori — Des. Infelice ancor fosti Al par di me. Ma or tu riposi in pace — Emi. 0 quanto & ver che ratti a un core oppresso Si riuniscon gli affanni ! * Dante. OTHELLO. 47 Des. What dost thou say '? What dost thou think ! — Abhorred of Heaven, Of my father, of myself, my husband, Condemned to exile for ever, Where seek a term to my grief or rest 1 [A Gondolier is heard at a distance , who sings a soft air. Gan . u There is no greater wo, “ Than in the hours of deep distress, u To recal past happiness. 55 * [ On hearing the song , Des. raises herself. Des. Oh, how those sounds Penetrate to ray inmost heart ! [She rises , and with transport flies to the window. Who art thou that singest thus ? — Ah, thou dost remind me Of my unhappy lot ! Emi. It is the gondolier, who with a song beguiles His way on the placid lake, Thinking of his sons, as he sees the sky beginning to be overcast. Des. Isaura ! — Isaura ! Emi. She calls her friend, Who was brought a slave from Africa, and whom She imagines near to her, but who is no more. Des. Thou, too, wert unhappy Like myself, but now thou reposest in peace. Emi. Oh ! how 7 true it is, that with a heart oppressed with wo The sorrows of others easily attach themselves ! * Dante. 48 OTELLO. Des. 0 tu del mio dolor dolce istrumento ! [Prende V arpa. lo te riprendo ancora ; E uniseo al mesto canto I sospiri d’ Isaura, ed il mio pianto. Assisa a pie d’ un sal ice, Immersa nel dolore, Gemea trafitta Isaura Dal piu crudele amore ; L’ aura tra i rami flebile Ne ripeteva il suon. I ruscelletti limpidi A’ caldi suoi sospiri Il mormorio mesceano De’ lor diversi giri : L’ aura fra i rami flebile Ne repeteva il suon. Salce, d’ amor delizia, Ombra pietosa appresta, Di mie sciagure immemore, All’ urna mia funesta : Ne piu ripeta 1’ aura De’ miei laraenti il suon. Che dissi ? — Ah, m’ ingannai ! — Non e del canto Questo il lugubre fin. M’ ascolta — 0 Dio ! [Un colpo di vento spezza alcuni vetri della fi- nest ra. Qual mai strepito questo? Qual presagio funesto ! Emi. Non paventar ! rimira, Impetuoso vento e quel, che spira. Des. Io credeva che alcuno — Oh, come il cielo S’ unisce a’ miei lamenti ! — - Ascolta il fin de’ dolorosi accenti. OTHELLO. 49 Des. O thou sweet soother of my woes ! [Takes her harp . Again I resume thee ; And in a plaintive song I mingle the sigh of Isaura and my own sorrows : Seated at the foot of a willow. Immersed in grief, Complained the hapless Isaura, A pray to relentless love ; The breeze amid the mournful branches Repeated the sound. The lucid rills Mingled the Of their passing waves With their burning sighs : The breeze and the mournful branches Repeated the sound. 0 willow, thou favorite of love ! Lend thy pitying shade, When hushed are all my sorrows. To my sad urn : When the breeze no more repeats The sounds of my lament. What have I said I — Ah, I was wrong ! — ■ This is not the end Of the melancholy song. Hear me — O Hea- vens ! \_A blast shatters some of the panes of the windows . What noise is that I What fatal presage ! Emi. Fear not ! look, It is only the wind, that blew with violence. 1 thought that some one — ‘Oh, Heaven, Sympathizes in my laments — Listen to the end of this plaintive ditty. Des. 50 Emi. Des. OTELLO, Ma stanca alfin di spargere Mesti sospiri e pianto, Mori P afflitta vergine, Ahi ! di quel salce accanto ! Mori — Che duol ! P ingrato ! Ahime, die il pianto Proseguir non mi fa ? Parti, ricevi Da’ labbri dell 5 arnica il bacio estremo. Ah, che dici? — obbedisco — Oh, come io treino ! [Parte. Deh, calm a, 0 Ciel , nel sonno Per poco le mie pene ; Fa che P amato bene Mi venga a con solar. Se poi son vani i preghi, Di mai breve urna in seno Venga di pianto almeno Il cenere a bagnar. [Ella cala la tendina , e si getta sid letto. SCENA II. Otello s' introduce nella stanza di Desdemona per una seer eta porta , ienendo in mano un accesa lucerna , ed trn pugnale. Otel. Eccomi giunto inosservata e solo Nella stanza fatal — Iago involommi A1 mio vicin periglio. Egli i miei passi Dirigere qui seppe. [Rimane per un momento attonito , indi attento guarda in giro . Il silenzio m’ addita. OTHELLO. 51 But wearied at length of pouring forth Her sighs and laments, Alas ! the afflicted virgin Breathed her last under that willow ! She breathed her last — How sad ! the ungrateful man ! Alas, I am unable to continue The melancholy song ! Go, receive. From the lips of thy friend, her last kiss. Emi. Ay, what say’st thou? — I obey — Oh, what trembling seizes me ! [ Exit Des. Oh, calm, ye Heavens ! in slumber For a while at least, my sorrows ; Grant me that the beloved of my heart May come to console me. But if my prayers are in vain, Let him shortly come at least To bathe with his tears The dust within my urn. [She draws the curtain and throve herself on the bed. SCENE II. Othello enters the chamber of Desdemona by a secret door , holding in the one. hand a lighted lamp , and in the other a dagger : lastly, Lucio. Oth. Alone and unobserved I have reached The fatal chamber — Iago has rescued me From the danger that awaited me. He knew How to guide my footsteps hither. [He remains for a moment lost in thought, then he loohs carefidly around. This silence declares That, secure of my departure, 52 OTELLO. Ch ? ella, di mai partenza omai sicura ? Sogna il rivale, e piu di me non cura. [ Riguardando verso la tendina del letto. Quanto t > inganni ! ora egli e al suol trafitto ! Che dissi ? — Ah omai si compia il mio delitto ! \ Pian piano si avvicina al letto , ed apre le ten - dine nel massimo tumulto del cuore. Che miro 1 — aime ! — quegli occhi, abbench& chi- usi, Pur mi parlano al cor ! quel volto in cui Natura impresse i piu bei pregi sui, Mi colpisce, m* arresta ! [ Confuso, s' 1 allontana del letto . Ma se piu mio non 6 — perch& serbarlo Struggasi. E chi mai puote [. Avvicinandasi di nuovo a lei . Riprodurne P egual. \Indi si allontana da lei perplesso ed irreso- lute. E’ sua la colpa, Se il mio temuto aspetto L’ allontana da me ? Perch& un sembiante, Barbaro ciel ; non damn, in cui scolpito Si vedesse il mio cor ? — che forse — allora — Che dico ? — E il tradimento Non merta il mio rigor ? Mora P indegna ! [A vvicinandosi di nuovo al letto * A hi, trema il braccio ancor : crudele indugio ! [Rimimndo la face. Eccone la cagion—tolgasi — 0 notte, [Posa la face a terra . Che mi devi sul ciglio eiem&mente OTHELLO. 53 She dreams of my rival, and cares no more for me. [ Looking towards the curtains of the bed . How much thou art deceived ! soon shall he lie stretched on the earth — What have I said ? — No, never let my criminal wish be fulfilled ! [He advances softly towards the bed , and opens the curtains in the greatest agitation . What do I see, alas ! — -those eyes, though closed, Speak to my heart ! that face, on which Nature has impressed the sweetest expression of entreaty, Overcomes and disarms me ! [Confused, he retires from the bed . But if she is no longer mine — why spare her ? Let her perish — and yet where can [Again approaching the bed . another such be found ? [Again he withdraws from her , perplexed and irresolute , . Here is the fault, If, dreading the sight of me, She keeps at a distance from me. Why, barbarous Heaven ! Didst thou not give me a countenance on which my heart Might have been seen pictured? Then, per- chance — What do I say ? — Does not her treachery Merit my rigor ? Let the worthless one die ! [Again approaching the bed . Ah, my hand trembles still ; cruel delay 5 [Looking at the light . Behold the cause — put out the light. — O night. [He places the light on the ground . That with thy darkness shouldst eternally 3* 54 OTELLO. Des. Otel. Des. Otel. Des. Otel. Des. Otel. Colle tenebre tue coprir P orrore Di questo infausto giorno ! ( dormendo .) Amato ben. Che cento ? — Aliim6 ! qual nome ! Sogna, o e pur desta ? [ Un lampo , che passa a traverso della Jinestra gli mostra eld ella dor me. Ah, che tra i lampi il cielo A me piu chiaro il suo delitto addita, E a compir la vendetta ah si in’ invita. [ Un forte tuono si ascolta: Des. si desta , e tra frequent i lampi riconosce Otel. Iniqua ! Ahiine — che veggo ? Come mai qui giungesti 1 Come tu puoi ? — ma no — contenta io t 5 offro Inerme il petto mio, Se piu quelP alma tua pieta non sente. La tradisti, crudel ! Sono innocente. Ed osi ancor, spergiura 1 ' Piu frenarmi non so. Rabbia dispetto Mi trafiggono a gara. Ah, padre ! ah che mai feci 1 E sol colpa la mia, P averti amato ! Uccidimi se vuoi, perfido, ingrato : Non arrestare il colpo, Vibralo a questo core Sfoga il tuo reo furore ; Intrepida morro. Ma sappi pria che mori Per tuo maggior tormento Che gia il tuo bene e spento, Che fago il trucido. OTHELLO. 65 Des. Oth. Des, Oth. Des. Oth. Des. Oth. Veil this brow to cover the horror Of this unhappy day. (in her sleep.) My dear beloved ! What do I hear 1 — Ah, that name ! Sleeps she, or is she awake ? \_A flash of lightning , that passes across the window , shoivs him that she is asleep . Ah ! Heaven with its lightnings Shows me more clearly her crime, And invites me to complete my vengeance. loud clap of thunder is heard . Des. awakes , and, amid the freguent flashes of lightning , recognises Oth. Wretch ! Ah, what do I see ? How camst thou hither % but no — contented I offer My defenceless bosom, If that soul is dead to the voice of pity. Thou hast betrayed it, cruel one ! I am innocent. And darest thou still, perjured one — • I can contain no longer. Rage and fury rend my heart ! Ah, father ! Oh, what have I done 1 I alone am culpable in having Loved thee. Behold ! I am thy Victim, perfidious wretch ! do Not withhold the blow, but aim It at my heart — dauntless I’ll await The vent of thy impious Fury, and death. But know, before thou diest, that, For thy greater affliction, Thy lover has met with death — • 5 T was Iago who slew him. 56 OTELLO. Des. Che sento, oh Dio ! che ascolto 7 Fidarti a lui potesti A un vile — a un traditor 7 Otel. Ah ! vile ! ben comprendo Perche cosi t’ adiri Ma inutili sospiri Or partono dal cor ! Des. Ah, crudel ! Otel. Di rabbia io f'remo Des. Ah qual giorno ! Otel. Il giorno estremo. Des. Che mai dici 7 Otel. A te sara. a 2. Notte per me funesta, Fiera crudel tempesta Accresci coi tuoi fulmini, Col tuo fragore orribile Accressi il mio furor ! II palpito P orror ! [I l temper ale cresce , i tuoni si succedono con gran fragore . Des. O ciel, se me punisci E’ giusto il tuo rigor. [I toni cessano , ma i lampi continuano . Otel. Tu d’ insultarmi ardisci ! Ed io m’ arresto ancor 7 Des. Uccidimi — ti affretta, Saziati alfin, crudel ! Otel. Si compia la vendetta ! [La trafigge col pugnale. Des. Aim& ! Otel. Mori, infedel ! [Otel. si allontana dal letto nel massiino dis- ordine j e spavento : cerca di occultare il suo delitto , e V oggetto del suo dolore con tirare le tendine del letto . Dopo un breve silenzio sentendo battere . Che sento 7— Chi batte 7— OTHELLO. 57 Des. Oth. Des. Oth. Des. Oth. Des. Oth. Des. Oth. Des. Oth. Des. Oth. O God, what do I hear ? couldst Thou confide in him ? In a vile traitor ? Ah ! wretch, I well know the reason Why thou dost thus provoke Thyself ; but those sighs are useless. Ah ! cruel man. I shudder with fury. Oh what a day ! It is thy last. What sayest thou? Thy last day. a 2, What fatal night for me ! Unmerciful, cruel tempest, Thou increasest with thy Thunderbolts in me. With thy Horrid clamor, my fury Increases the throb of my heart. [The storm increases ; the peals of thunder succeed each other with violence . O Heaven ! if thou punisliest me, Thy severity is just. [The thunder ceases , hut the lightning continues. Darest thou thus insult me ! And do 1 still withhold my hand ? Kill me — haste thee, cruel man ! To satiate thy vengeance ! Be my vengeance appeased ! [He stahs her. Ah me ! — Die, faithless one ! [Oth. withdraws from the hed in the greatest disorder and dread; seeks to conceal his crime and the object of his grief by drawing the curtains of the bed . After a short silence , a knocking is heard. What do I hear ? — Who knocks ? — 58 OTELLO. Goto . Otello ! [Di fuw'i, Otel.' Qaal voce ! — Occultati atroce Rimorso nel cor. [Otel. apre laparta. Voce di ( La morte d’ Iago dentro . ) Scopri il tradimento. La gioja — il contento Si vede tornar. SCENA ULTIMA. Elmiro, Rodrigo, con Seguito e detti . Rod. Il perfido Iago Cangio nel mio petto Lo sdegno in affetto : Ti cedo il tuo ben. Elm. La man di mia figlia — Otel. La man di tua figlia ! j Con sorpresa . Si — unirmi a lei deggio — Rimira ! — [Scopre la tendina . Elm. Che veggo ? Otel. Punito n’ avra— - [St uccide. Tutti Ah ! fine. OTHELLO. 59 Cho. Othello ! [ from without . Oth. That voice ! 0 fierce remorse, Hide thyself in this heart. Oth. opens the door . Voices \ | The death of the faithless Iago ivithin. j \ Discovered the villany. Joy and contentment Are at length restored. SCENE THE LAST. Elmiro, Roderigo, with A ttendants , and the above . Rod. The perfidious Iago Has changed my resentment Into affection : I yield to thee thy heart’s treasure. Elm. The hand of my daughter ! — [ Confounded . Oth. The hand of thy daughter ! Yes — I must be united to her — Behold ! [ Opens the curtain . Elm. What do I see ? Oth. I thus punish myself — [lie kills himself. All Ah ! THE END. ■-> *1 . ; . ■ . : -y V,, . ' ■ ' " V / CAUTION!! TO THE PATRONS OF THE OPERA !!! JST - The patrons of the Opera are cautioned against buying, outside of the Opera House, spurious copies of Operas. THE ONLY CORRECT ACTING COPIES OF ALL ITALIAN OPERAS, ARE TO BE OBTAINED IN THE OPERA HOUSE. I [Price 3 Cents. OTHELLO THE MOOR OF VENICE. BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. AME New York RICAN BOOK EXCHANGE 7 64 Broadway 1881 ^ /'star* J ft U T H E L L THE MOON OF VENICE, OTHELLO, THE MOOK OE VENICE. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. Duke op Venice. Brabantio, a senator. Other Senators. Gratiano, brother to Brabantio. Lodovico, kinsman to Brabantio. Othello, a noble Moor in the ser- vice of the Venetian state. Cassio, his lieutenant. Iago, his ancient. Roderigo, a Venetian gentleman. Montano, Othello’s predecessor in the government of Cyprus. Scene: Venice: a Clown, servant to Othello. Desdemona, daughter to Braban- tio and wife to Othello. Emilia, wife to Iago. Bianca, mistress to Cassio. Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Of- ficers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and Attendants. Sea-port in Cyprus . ACT I. Scene I. Venice . A street. Enter Roderigo and Iago. Bod. Tush ! never tell me ; I take it much unkindly That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. Iago. ’Sblood, but you will not hear me: If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me. Bod. Thou told’st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capp’d to him: and, by the faith of man, 10 I know my price, I am worth no worse a place: But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them, with a bombast circumstance Horribly stuff’d with epithets of war; And, in conclusion, Nonsuits my mediators; for, “ Certes,” says he, • “ I have already chose my officer.” ( 2 ) SCENE I.] OTHELLO. 3 And what was he ? Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, 20 f A fellow almost damn’d in a fair wdfe; That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, Wherein the toged consuls can propose As masterly as he : mere prattle, without practice, Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election: And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds Christian and heathen, must be be-lee’d and calm’d 30 By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster, He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I — God bless the mark! — his Moorsliip’s ancient. Bod. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. Iago. Why, there’s no remedy; ’tis the curse of service, Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, Whether I in any just term am affined To love the Moor. Bod. I would not follow him then. 40 Iago. O, sir, content you: I follow him to serve my turn upon him: AYe cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow’d. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That, doting on liis. own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his master’s ass, For nought but provender, and when he’s old, cashier’d: Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are Who, trimm’d in forms and visages of duty, 50 Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them and when they have lined their coats Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, It is as : sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end: 60 For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart 4 OTHELLO. [act I. In compliment extern, ’tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, If he can carry’t thus ! Iago. Call up her father, Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen. And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 70 Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such changes of vexation on’t, As it may lose some colour. Rod. Here is her father’s house; I’ll call aloud. Iago. Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell As when, by night and negligence, the fire 1^ spied in populous cities. Rod. What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho ! Iago. Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves! Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! 80 Thieves! thieves! Brabantio appears above, at a window. Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? Rod. Signior, is all your family within? Iago. Are your doors lock’d? Bra. Why, wherefore ask you this? Iago. ’Zounds, sir, you’re robb’d ; for shame, put on your gown; Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; Even now, now, very now, an old black ram Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise; Awake the snorting citizens wuth the bell, 90 Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you: Arise, I say. Bra. What, have you lost your wits? Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? Bra. Not I: what are you? Rod. My name is Roderigo. Bra. The worser welcome: I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors: In honest plainness thou hast heard me say My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness, Being full of supper and distempering draughts, Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come JOQ To start my quiet. SCENE I.] OTHELLO. j5 Rod. Sir, sir, sir, — Bra. But tliou must needs be sure My spirit and my place have in them power 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 brave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you. Iago. ’Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians, you’ll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you’ll have your nephews neigh to you; you’ll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans. Bra. What profane wretch art thou? Iago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs. Bra. Thou art a villain. Iago. You are — a senator. 119 Bra. This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo. Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you, Ift be your pleasure and most wise consent, As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter, At this odd-even and dull watch o’ the night, Transported, with no worse nor better guard But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor, — If this be known to } T ou and } T our allowance, We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; But if you know not this, my manners tell me 130 We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe That, from the sense of all civility, I thus would play and trifle with your reverence: Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, I say again, hath made a gross revolt ; Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes In an extravagant and wheeling stranger Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself: If she be in her chamber or-your house, Let loose on me the justice of the state 140 For thus deluding you. 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 ! \Exit above r G OTHELLO. [act I. Iago . Farewell ; for I must leave you* It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, To be produced — as, if I stay, I shall — Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state, However this may gall him with some check, Cannot with safety cast him, for lie’s embark’d 150 With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls, Another of his fathom they have none, To lead their business: in which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains. Yet, for necessity of present life, I must show out a flag'and sign of love, Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; And there will I be with him. So, farewell. {Exit. 160 Enter , below, Brabantio, and Servants with torches. Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is; And what’s to come of my despised time Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl! With the Moor, say’st thou? Who would be a father! How didst thou know ’twas she? O, she deceives me Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers: Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you? Rod. Truly, I think they are. Bra. O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! 170 Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters’ minds By what you see them act. Is there not charms By which the property of youth and maidhood May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo, Of some such thing? Rod. Yes, sir, I have indeed. Bra. Call up my brother. O, w^ould 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. 180 Bra. Pray you, lead on. At every house I’ll call; I may command at most. Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night. On, good Roderigo : I’ll deserve your pains, [ Exeunt . SCENE II.] OTHELLO. Scene II. Another street. Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants with torches . Iago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o’ the conscience To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times I had thought to have yerk’d him here under the ribs. Oth. ’Tis better as it is. Iago. Nay, but he prated, And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour That, with the little godliness I have, I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir, 10 Are you fast married? Be assured of this, That the magnifico is much beloved, And hath in his effect a voice potential As double as the duke’s: he will divorce you; Or put upon you what restraint and grievance The law, with all his might to enforce it on, Will give him cable. Oth. Let him do his spite: My services which I have done the signiory Shall out-tongue his complaints. ’Tis yet to know, — Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, 20 I shall promulgate — I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege, and my demerits May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune As this that I have reach’d : for know, Iago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into circumscription and confine For the sea’s worth. But, look! what lights come yond? Iago. Those are the raised father and his friends: You were best go in. Oth. Not I; I must be found: 30 My parts, my title and my perfect soul Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? Iago. By Janus, I think no. Enter Cassio, and certain Officers icith torches . Oth. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. The goodness of the night upon you, friends! What is the news? Gas. The duke does greet you, general, And he requires your liaste-post-liaste appearance. Even on the instant. OTHELLO. [act I. 8 Oth. Wliat is the matter, think you? Gas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine: It is a business of some heat: the galleys 40 Have sent a dozen sequent messengers This very night at one another’s heels, And many of the consuls, raised and met, Are at the duke’s already: you have been hotly call’d for; When, being not at your lodging to be found, The senate hath sent about three several quests To search you out. Oth. ’Tis well I am found by you. t will but spend a word here in the house, And go with you. [Exit. Cas. Ancient, what makes he here? Iago. ’Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack: 50 If it prove lawful prize, he’s made for ever. Cas. I do not understand. Iago. He’s married. Cas. To who? Re-enter Othello. Iago. Marry, to — Come, captain, will you go? Oth. Have with you. Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you. Iago. It is Brabantio. General, be advised; He comes to bad intent. Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers with torches and weapons. Oth. Holla! stand there! Rod. Signior, it is the Moor. Bra. Down with him, thief! [They draw on both sides. Iago. You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you. Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signior, you shall more command with years 60 Than with your weapons. Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow’d my daughter? Damn’d as thou art, thou hast enchanted her; For I’ll refer me to all things of sense, If she in chains of magic were not bound, Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy, So opposite to marriage that she sliunn'd The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, to incur a general mock, SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 9 Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom 70 Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight. Judge me the world, if ’tis not gross in sense That thou hast practised on her with foul charms, Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals That weaken motion: I’ll liave’t disputed on; ’Tis probable and palpable to thinking. I therefore apprehend and do attach thee For an abuser of the world, a practiser Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. Lay hold upon him : if he do resist, 80 Subdue him at his peril. Oth. Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining, and the rest: Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter. Where will you that I go To answer this your charge? 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 90 To bring me to him? First Off. ’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 ’twere their own; For if such actions may have passage free, Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. [Exeunt. Scene III. A council-chamber. The Duke and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending. Duke. There is no composition in these news That gives them credit. First Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion’d; My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty. Sec. Sen. And mine, two hundred: But though they jump not on a just account,— 10 OTHELLO. [act I. As in these cases, where the aim reports, Tis oft with difference — yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgement: I do not so secure me in the error, 10 But the main article I do approve In fearful sense. Sailor. [ Within ] What, ho! what, ho! what, ho! First Off. A messenger from the galleys. Enter a Sailor. Duke. Now, w r hat’s the business? Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes; So was I bid report here to the state By Signior Angelo. Duke. How say you by this change? First Sen. This cannot be, By no assay of reason : *tis a pageant, To keep us in false gaze. When we consider The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, 20 And let ourselves again but understand, That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, So may he with more facile question bear it, For that it stands not in such warlike brace, But altogether lacks the abilities That Rhodes is dress’d in: if we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskilful To leave that latest which concerns him first. Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, To wake and wage a danger profitless. 30 Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he’s not for Rhodes. First Off. Here is more news. Enter a Messenger. Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet. First Sen. Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess? Mess. Of thirty sail: and now they do re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, Your trusty and most valiant servitor, 40 With his free duty recommends you thus, And prays you to believe him. Duke. ’Tis certain, then, for Cyprus, Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town? First Sen. He’s now in Florence. BcEjne in. j OTHELLO. ii Duke. Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch. First Sen. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor. Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Boderigo, and Officers. Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman. . . [to Brabantio ] I did not see you; welcome, gentle sigmor; We lack’d your counsel and your help to-night. 51 Bra. So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me; Neither my place nor aught I heard of business Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care Take hold on me, for my particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o’erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows And it is still itself. Duke. Why, what’s the matter? Bra. My daughter 1 O, my daughter! Duke and Sen. Dead? Bra. Ay, to me; She is abused, stol’n from me, and corrupted 60 By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; For nature so preposterously to err, Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, Sans witchcraft could not. Duke. Whoe'er 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 your own sense, yea, though our proper son Stood in your action. Bra. Humbly I thank your grace. 70 Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems, Your special mandate for the state-affairs Hath hither brought. Duke and Sen. We are very sorry for’t. Duke. [To Othello] What, in your own part, can you say to this? Bra. Nothing, but this is so. ‘Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her: The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Bude am I in my speech, And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace: For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used 80 IS OTHELLO. [act i. Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish’d tale deliver 90 Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, "What conjuration and wliat mighty magic, For such proceeding I am charged withal, I won his daughter. Bra. A maiden never bold ; Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion Blush’d at herself ; and she, in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit, every thing, To fall in love with what she fear’d to look on! It is a judgement maim’d and most imperfect That will confess perfection so could err 100 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. Duke. To vouch this, is no proof, Without more wider and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him. First Sen. But, Othello, speak: 110 Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maid’s affections? Or came it by request and such fair question As soul to soul affordetli? Oth. I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary, And let her speak of me before her father: If you do find me foul in her report, The trust, the office I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence Even fall upon my life. Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither. 120 Oth. Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place. [Exeunt Iago and Attendants. And, till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood, So justly to your grave ears I’ll present How I did thrive in this fair lady’s love, And she in mine. SCENE III.] OTHELLO. VS / Duke, Say it, Othello. Otk , Her father loved me; oft invited me; Still question’d me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, 130 That I have pass’d. I ran it through, even from my boyish days, To the very moment that he bade me tell it; Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth scapes i’ the imminent deadly breach, Of being taken by the insolent foe And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence And portance in my travels’ history : Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, 140 Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak, — such was the process; And of the Cannibals that ’each other eat, The Anthropophagi 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: Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, She’ld come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse: which I observing, 150 Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively. I did consent, And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer’d. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore, in faith, ’twas strange, ’twas passing strange, ’Twas pitiful, ’twas wondrous pitiful: 161 She wish’d she had not heard it, yet she wish’d That heaven had made her such a man she thank’d me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: She loved me for the dangers I had pass’d, And I loved her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used: Here comes the lady; let her witness it. 170 Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants. Duke. I think this tale would win my daughter too. 14 OTHELLO. [act i. Good Brabantio, Take up this mangled matter at the best: Men do their broken weapons rattier use Than their bare hands. Bra. I pray 3 r ou, hear her speak: If she confess that she was half the wooer, Destruction on my head, if my bad blame Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress: Do you perceive in all this noble company Where most you owe obedience? Des. My noble father, 180 I do perceive here a divided duty : To you I am bound for life and education; My life and education both do learn iuq H ow to respect you; you are the lord of duty; I am hitherto your daughter: but here’s my husband, And so much duty as my mother show’d To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord. Bra. God be wi’ you ! I have done. Please it your grace, on to the state affairs: 190 I had rather to adopt a child than get it. Come hither, Moor: I here do give thee that with all my heart Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel, I am glad at soul I have no other child; For thy escape would teach me tyranny, To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord. Duke. Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence, Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers 200 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 new mischief on. What cannot be preserved when fortune takes Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robb’d that smiles steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief. Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile; ’ 210 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 hears both the sentence and the sorrow That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 15 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 ear. I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state. 220 Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus. 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 for- tunes with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition. Oth. The tyrant custom, most grave senators, 230 Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down : I do agnize A natural and prompt alacrity I find in hardness, and do undertake These present wars against the Ottomites. Most humbly therefore bending to your state, I crave fit disposition for my wife, Due reference of place and exhibition. With such accommodation and besort As levels with her breeding. Duke. If you please, 240 Be ’t at her father’s. Bra. I’ll not have it so. Oth. Nor I. Des. Nor I; I would not there reside, To put my father in impatient thoughts By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear; And let me find a charter in your voice, To assist my simpleness. Duke. What would you, Desdemona? Des. That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes 250 May trumpet to the world : my heart’s subdued Even to the very quality of my lord: I saw Othello’s visage in his mind, And to his 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 , Let her have your voices. 260 16 OTHELLO. [act I. Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not, To please the palate of my appetite, Nor to comply with heat — the young affects In me defunct — and proper satisfaction, But to be free and bounteous to her mind: And heaven defend your good souls, that you think I will your serious and great business scant For she is with me : no, when liglit-wing’d toys Of feather’d Cupid seel with wanton dullness 270 My speculative and officed instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business. Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, And all indign and base adversities Make head against my estimation ! Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste, And speed must answer it. First Sen . You must away to-night. Oth. With all my heart. Duke. At nine i’ the morning here we’ll meet again. 280 Othello, leave some officer behind, And he shall our commission bring to you; With such things else of quality and respect As doth import you. Oth. So 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. Duke. Let it be so. Good night to every one. [To Brab.’] And, noble signior, If virtue no delighted beauty lack, 290 Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. First Sen. Adieu, brave Moor; use Desdemona well. Bra. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: She has deceived her father, and may thee [Exeunt Duke, Senators , Officers , &c. Oth. My life upon her faith ! Honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leave to thee: I prithee, let thy wife attend on her: And bring them after in the best advantage. Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour Of love, of worldly matters and direction, 300 To spend with thee: we must obey the time. [Exeunt Othello and Desdemona. Rod. Iago, — Iago , What say’st thou, noble heart? SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 17 Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou? Iago. Why, go to bed, and sleep. Rod. I will incontinently drown myself. Iago. If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou silly gentleman. Rod. It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physi- cian. 311 Iago. O villanous! I have looked upon the world for four times seven years; and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I would drown myself for the love of a guinea-lien, 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. 321 Iago. Virtue! a fig! 5 tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners; so that if we will plant nettles, or sow let- tuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scab of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our na- tures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions: but we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect or scion. Rod. It cannot be. Iago. It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy fa- vour with an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor, — put money in thy purse, — nor he his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration: — put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills: — fill thy purse with money: — the food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice: she must have change, she must : therefore put money in thy purse. If SHAK. 111,-15 18 OTHELLO. [act I. thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst: if sanc- timony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtie Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her. Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue? 870 Iago. Thou art sure of me: — go, make money: — I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him; if thou canst cuckold him, tliou dost thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered. Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu. 880 Rod. Where shall we meet i’ the morning? Iago. At my lodging. Rod. I’ll be with thee betimes. Iago. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? Rod. What say you? Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear? Rod. I am changed: I’ll go sell all my land. [Exit. Iago. Thus do 1 ever make my fool my purse: S For I mine own gain’d knowledge should profane, If I would time expend with such a snipe, But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor; And it is thought abroad, that ’twixt my sheets He has done my office: I know not if’t be true; But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, Will do as if for surety. He holds me well; The better shall my purpose work on him. Cassio’s a proper man: let me see now: To get his place and to plume up my will In double knavery — How, how? — Let’s see: — 400 After some time, to abuse Othello’s ear That he is too familiar with his wife. He hath a person and a smooth dispose To be suspected, framed to make women false. The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, And will as tenderly be led by the nose As asses are. I have’t. It is engender’d. Hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light. ^10 SCENE I.] OTHELLO. 19 ACT II. Scene I. A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay. Enter Montano and to? Gentlemen. Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea? First Gent. Nothing at all: it is a high- wrought flood; I cannot, ’twixt the heaven and the main, Descry a sail. Mon. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; A fuller blast ne’er shook our battlements: If it hath rufflan’d so upon the sea, What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this? Sec. Gent. A segregation of the Turkish fleet: 10 For do but stand upon the foaming shore, The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds; The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane, Seems to cast water on the burning bear, And quench the guards of the ever-fix’d pole: I never did like molestation view On the enchafed flood. Mon. If that the Turkish fleet Be not enshelter’d and embay’d, they are drown’d; It is impossible they bear it out. Enter a third Gentleman. Third Gent. News, lads! our wars are done. 20 The desperate tempest hath so bang’d the Turks, That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance On most part of their fleet. Mon. How! is this true? Third Gent. The ship is here put in, A Veronesa; Michael Cassio, Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello, Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea, And is in full commission here for Cyprus. Mon. I am glad on’t; ’tis a worthy governor. 30 Third 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 heavens he be ; go OTHELLO. [act rt, For I have served him, and the man commands Like a full soldier. Let’s to the seaside, ho! As well to see the vessel that’s come in As to^ throw out our eyes for brave Othello, Even till we make the main and the aerial blue An indistinct regard. Third Gent. Come, let’s do so: 40 For every minute is expectancy Of more arrivance. Enter Cassio. Cas. Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle, That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens Give him defence against the elements, For I have lost him on a dangerous sea. Mon. Is he well shipp’d? Cas. His bark is stoutly timber’d, and his pilot Of very expert and approved allowance; Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, 50 Stand in bold cure. [A cry within “ A sail, a sail, a sail!” Enter a fourth Gentleman. Cas. What noise? Fourth Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o’ the sea Stand ranks of people, and they cry “A sail!” Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor. \Guns heard. Sec. Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy: Our friends at least. Cas. I pray you, sir, go forth, And give us truth who ’tis that is arrived. Sec. Gent. I shall. [Exit. Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wived? 60 Cas. Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid That paragons description and wild fame; One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in the essential vesture of creation Does tire the ingener. Re-enter second Gentleman. How nowM who has put in? Sec. Gent. ’Tis one lago, ancient to the general. Cas. Has had most favourable and happy speed: Tempests themselves, high seas and howling winds, The gutter’d rocks and congregated sands, — Traitors ensteep’d to clog the guiltless keel, — 70 SCENE I.] OTHELLO. 21 As having sense of beauty, do omit Their mortal natures, letting go safely by The divine Desdemona. Mon. What is she? Cas. She that I spake of, our great captain’s captain, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts A se’nnight’s speed. Great Jove, Othello guard, And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, 79 Make love’s quick pants in Desdemona’s arms, Give renew’d fire to our extincted spirits, And bring all Cyprus comfort ! Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Koderigo, and Atteu. dants. O, behold, The riches of the ship is come on shore 1 Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven. Before, behind thee and on every hand, Enwheel thee round ! Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio. What tidings can you tell me of my lord? Cas. He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught But that he’s well and will be shortly here. 90 Des. O, but I fear — How lost you company? Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship — But, hark! a sail. [ Within “A sail, a sail!” Guns heard. Sec. Gent . They give their greeting to the citadel: This likewise is a friend. Cas . See for the news. [Exit Gentleman. Good ancient, you are welcome. [To Emilia ] Welcome, mistress : Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, That I extend my manners; ’tis my breeding That gives me this bold show of courtesy. 100 [Kissing her. Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, You’ld have enough. Des. Alas, she has no speech. Iago. In faith, too much ; I find it still, when I have list to sleep: Marry, before your ladyship, I grant, OTHELLO. [act it She puts her tongue a little in her heart, And chides with thinking. Emil. You have little cause to say so. Iago. Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild-cats in your kitchens, 111 Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds. Des. O, he upon thee, slanderer! Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk; You rise to play and go to bed to work. Emil. You shall not write my praise. Iago. No, let me not. Des. What wouldst thou write of me, if thou sliouldst praise me? Iago. O gentle lady, do not put me to’t; For I am nothing, if not critical. 120 Des. Come on, assay. There’s one gone to the harbour? Iago. Ay, madam. Des. I am not merry ; but I do beguile The thing lam, by seeming otherwise. Come, how wouldst thou praise me? Iago. I am about it; but indeed my invention Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize; It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours, And thus she is deliver’d. If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, 130 The one’s for use, the other usetli it. Des. Well praised! How if she be black and witty? Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit, She’ll find a white that shall her blackness fit. Des. Worse and worse. Emil. How if fair and foolish? Iago. She never yet was foolish that was fair; For even her folly helped her to an heir. Des. These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i’ the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that’s foul and foolish? 141 Iago. There’s none so foul and foolish thereunto, But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do. Des. O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself? Iago. She that was ever fair and never proud, Had tongue at will and yet was never loud, Never lack’d gold and yet went never gay, Fled from her wish and yet said “ Now I may,” 150 SCENE 1.] OTHELLO. 23 She that being anger’d, her revenge being nigh, Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly, She that in wisdom never was so frail To change the cod’s head for the salmon’s tail. She that could think and ne’er disclose her mind, See suitors following and not look behind, She was a wight, if ever such wight were, — JDes. To do what? 160 Iago. To suckle fools and chronicle small beer. Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal counsel- lor? Cas. He speaks home, madam : you may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar. Iago. [Aside] He takes her by the palm: ay, vrell said, whisper: with as little a web as "this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do ; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You say true; ’tis so, indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are most apt to play the sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy! ’tis so, in- deed. Yet again your fingers to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake! [ Trumpet within.'] The Moor! I know his trumpet. 180 Cas. ’Tis truly so. Des. Let’s meet him and receive him. Cas . Lo, where he comes! Enter Othello and Attendants. Otli. O my fair warrior! 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 calms, May the winds blow till they have waken’d death! And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-higli and duck again as low 190 As hell’s from heaven ! If it were now to die, ’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 forbid But that our loves and comforts should increase, Even as our days do grow ! 24 OTHELLO. [ACT II. Oth. Amen to that, sweet powers’ I cannot speak enough of this content; It stops me here; it is too much of joy: And this, and this, the greatest discords be 200 [Kissing her. That e’er our hearts shall make! lago. [Aside] 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 drown’d. How does my old acquaintance of this isle? Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus; I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, I prattle out of fashion, and I dote In mine own comforts. I prithee, good lago, Go to the bay and disembark my coffers: 210 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 Cyprus. [Exeunt Othello , Desdemona , and Attendants, lago. 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 must tell thee this — Desde- mona is directly in love with him. 221 Rod. With him! why, ’tis not possible. ' lago. 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 thy discreet heart think it. 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 to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness 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 in it and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted, — as it is a most pregnant and un- forced position — who stands so eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio does? a knave very voluble; no fur- ther conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing of his salt SCENE I.] OTHELLO. 25 and most hidden loose affection? why, none; why, none; a slipper and subtle knave, a finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself; a devilish knave. 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 hath found him already. Rod. I cannot believe that in her; she’s full of most blessed condition. Iago. Blessed fig’s-end! the wine she drinks is made of grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst not mark that? 260 Rod. Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy. Iago. Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure pro- logue to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion, Pish! Buc, sir, be you ruled by me: I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night; for the command, I’ll lay’t upon you. Cassio knows you not. I’ll not be far from you: do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favourably minister. Rod. Well. Iago. Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displ anting of Cassio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the impediment most profitably removed, without the which there were no expectation of our pros- perity. Rod. I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity. Iago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel; I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell. Rod. Adieu. [Rxit. Iago. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; That she loves him, ’tis apt and of great credit: The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, And I dare think he’ll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too; 30Q OTHELLO. [act it Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a sin, But partly led to diet my revenge, For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leap’d into my seat; the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards; And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even’d with him, wife for wife, Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong 810 That judgement cannot cure. Which thing to do, If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash 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 night-cap too — 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: 820 Knavery’s plain face is never seen till used. [Exit. Scene II. A street. Enter a Herald with a proclama tion ; People following . Her. It is Othello’s pleasure, our noble and valiant gen- eral, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put him- self into triumph; some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello! [Exeunt. Scene III. A hall in the castle. Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants. Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night: Let’s teach ourselves that honourable stop, Not to outsport discretion. Gas. Iago hath direction what to do; But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye 'Will I look to’t. SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 27 Oth. Iago is most honest. Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest Let me have speech with you. [To Desdemona] Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; That profit’s yet to come ’tween me and you. 10 Good night. [Exeunt Othello , Desdemona , and Attendants. Enter Iago. Gas. Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch. Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant; ’tis not yet ten o’ the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her ; and she is sport for Jove. Cas. She’s a most exquisite lady. Iago. And, I’ll warrant her, full of game. Cas. Indeed, she’s a most fresh and delicate creature. 20 Iago. What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of provocation. Gas. An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest. Iago. And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love? Gas. She is indeed perfection. Iago. Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello. Gas. Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and un- happy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. Iago. O, they are our friends; but one cup: I’ll drink for you. 40 Gas. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more. Iago. What, man! ’tis a night of revels: the gallants de- sire it. Gas. Where are they? Iago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. Cas. I’ll do’t; but it dislikes me. [Exit. Iago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him, 50 With that which he hath drunk to-night already, He’ll be as full of quarrel and offence As my young mistress’ dog. Now, my sick fool Hoderigo, Whom love hath turn’d almost the wrong side out. 28 OTHELLO. [ACT II. To Desdemona hath to-night caroused Potations pottle-deep; and he’s to watch: Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honours in a wary distance, The very elements of this warlike isle, Have I to-night fluster’d with flowing cups, 60 And they watch too. Now, ’mongst this flock of drunk- ards, Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle. — But here they come: If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. Re-enter Cassio; with him Montano and Gentlemen; Ser- vants following with wine . Gas . ’Fore God, they have given me a rouse already. Mon . Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier. Iago . Some wine, ho! 70 [Sings'] And let me the canakin clink, clink; And let me the canakin clink: A soldier’s a man ; A life’s but a span; Why, then, let a soldier drink. Some wine, boys! Cas. ’Fore God, an excellent song. Iago. I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swag- bellied Hollander — Drink, ho! — are nothing to your English. 81 Gas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking? Iago. Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled. Gas. To the health of our general! Mon. I am for it, lieutenant; and I’ll do you justice. 90 Iago. O sweet England! King Stephen was a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown; He held them sixpence all too dear, With that he called the tailor lown. He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree: ’Tis pride that pulls the country down; Then take thine auld cloak about thee. Some wine, ho! 100 Q as, Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other, SCENE III.] OTHELLO. :0 lago. Will you hear’t again? Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God’s above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. Iago. It’s true, good lieutenant. Gas. For mine own part, — no offence to the general, nor any man of quality, — I hope to be saved. Ill lago. And so do I too, lieutenant. Cas. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the lieuten- ant is to be saved before the ancient. Let’s have no more of this; let’s to our affairs. — Forgive us our sins! — Gentle- men, 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: I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough. 120 All. Excellent well. Cas. Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk. [Exit. Mon. To the platform, masters; come, let’s set the watch. lago. You see this fellow that is gone before; He is a soldier fit to stand by Cnesar And give direction, and do but see his vice; ’Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as the other: ’tis pity of him. 130 I fear the trust Othello puts him in, On some odd time of his infirmity, Will shake this island. Mon. But is he often thus? lago. ’Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep: He’ll watch the horologe a double set, If drink rock not his cradle. Mon. It were well The general were put in mind of it. Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio, And looks not on his evils: is not this true? 140 Enter Roderigo. lago. [Aside to him\ How now, Roderigo! I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. [Exit Roderigo. Mon. And ’tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft infirmity: It were an honest action to say So to the Moor, 30 OTHELLO. \ACT II. Iago. Not I, for this fair island : I do love Cassio well ; and would do much To cure him of this evil — But, hark! what noise? [Cry within: “Help! help!” Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo. Cas. You rogue! you rascal! Mon. What’s the matter, lieutenant? Cas. A knave teach me my duty! 151 I’ll heat the knave into a twiggen hottle. Rod. Beat me ! Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue? [> Striking Roderigo. Mon. Nay, good lieutenant; {Staying him. I pray you, sir, hold your hand. Cas . Let me go, sir, Or I’ll knock you o’er the mazzard. Mon. Come, come, you’re drunk. Cas. Drunk! {They fight. Iago. {Aside to Roderigo'] Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny. {Exit Roderigo. Nay, good lieutenant, — alas, gentlemen; — Help, ho ! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — sir ; — 160 Help, masters! — here’s a goodly watch indeed! {Bell rings. Who’s that which rings the bell? — Diablo, ho! The town will rise: God’s will, lieutenant, hold! You will be shamed forever. Re-enter Othello and Attendants. Oth. What is the matter here? Mon. ’Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death. {Faints. Oth. Hold, for your lives! Iago. Hold, ho! Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — gentle- men, — Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame! Oth. Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this? Are we turn’d Turks, and to ourselves do that 170 Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl: He that stirs next to carve for his own rage Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. Silence that dreadful bell : it frights the isle • From her propriety. What is the matter, masters? Honest Iago, that look’st dead with grieving, Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee, SCENE III/] OTHELLO. 91 Iago. I do not know: friends all but now, even now, In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom 180 Devesting them for bed; and then, but now — As if some planet had unwitted men — Swords out, and tilting one at other’s breast, In opposition bloody. I cannot speak Any beginning to this peevish odds; And would in action glorious I had lost Those legs that brought me to a part of it! Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? Gas. I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak. Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil; 190 The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths 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 it. Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger: Your officer, Iago, can inform you, — While I spare speech, which something now offends me, — Of all that I do know : nor know I aught 200 By me that’s said or done amiss this night; Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin When violence assails us. Oth. Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule; And passion, having my best judgement collied, Assays to lead the way: if I once 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; 210 And he that is approved in this offence, Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, Shall lose me. What! in a town of war, Yet wild, the people’s hearts brimful of fear, To manage private and domestic quarrel, In night, and on the court and guard of safety 1 ’Tis monstrous. Iago, who began’t? Mon. If partially affined, or leagued in office. Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier. ^ Iago. Touch me not so near: 220 I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio; Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth OTHELLO. [act It Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general. Montano 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, 230 Lest by his clamour — as it so fell out — The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot. Outran my purpose; and I return’d the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night I ne’er might say 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 cannot I report: 240 But men are men; the best sometimes forget: Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, As men in rage 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, Iago, Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee; But never more be officer of mine. Re-enter Desdemona, attended. Look, if my gentle love be not raised up! 250 I’ll make thee an example. Res. What’s the matter? Oth. All’s well now, sweeting; come away to bed. Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon: Lead him off. [To Montano , who is led off. Iago, look with care about the town, And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. Come, Desdemona: ’tis the soldiers’ life To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. [. Exeunt all but Iago and Cassio. Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? Cas. Ay, past all surgery. 260 Iago. Marry, heaven forbid ! Cas. Deputation, reputation, reputation! 0,1 have lost my reputation ! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation 1 SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 33 Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false impo- sition: oft got without merit, and lost without deserving: you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute your^ self such a loser. What, man! there are ways to recover the general again: you are but nowcast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice; even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue to him again, and he’s yours. Gas. I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so in- discreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squab- ble? swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow? fTT thou invisible spirit of wdne, if thou hast no name to be Known by, let us call thee devff3 Iago. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you? Cas. I know not. Iago. Is’t possible? Has. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. ;0 God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance, revel and applause, transform ourselves into beajfj|! Iago. Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered ? Gas. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath: one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself. 800 Iago. Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen; but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. Gas. 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 them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast ! O strange ! Every inordinate cup is unblessed and the ingredient is a devil. Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar crea- ture, if it be well used : exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you. Gas. I have well approved it, sir. I drunk! Iago. You or any man living may be drunk at a time, man. I’ll tell you what you shall do. Our general’s wife is now the general: I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, OTHELLO. [act It. 8i mark, and denotement of her parts and graces : confess yourself freely to her; importune her help to put you in your place again:, she is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested: this broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before. 331 Cas. You advise me well. logo, I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kind- ness. Cas. I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am desperate of my fortunes if they check me here. Iago. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must to the watch. 340 Cas. Good night, honest Iago. [Exit. Iago. 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 renouuce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, 350 His soul is so enfetter’d 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 parallel course, Directly to his good? Divinity of hell! When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now: for whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes 360 And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, I’ll pour this pestilence into his ear, 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 them all. Be-enter Roderigo. How now, Roderigo! SCENE I.] OTHELLO. 35 Bod. I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that tills up the cry. My money is almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well cud- gelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains, and so, with no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice. Iago. How poor are tlie}^ that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou knowst we work by wit, and not by witchcraft; And wit depends on dilatory time. Does’t not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, 380 And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier’d Cassio: Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe: Content thyself awhile. By the mass, ’tis morning; Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. Retire thee; go where thou art billeted: Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter: Nay, get thee gone. [. Exit Boderigo.~\ Two things are to be done: My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress; I’ll set her on ; 390 Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, And bring him jump when he may Cassio find Soliciting his wife: ay, that’s the way: Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit ACT III. Scene I. Before the castle. Enter Cassio and some Musicians. * Vas. Masters, play here; I will content your pains; l mething that’s brief; and bid “ Good morrow, general.” [Music, Enter Clown. Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i’ the nose thus? Mrst Mas. How, sir, how? Clo. Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments? First Mas. Ay, marry, are they, sir. Clo. O, thereby hangs a tail. First Mus. Whereby hangs a tail, sir? 9 Clo. Marry, sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know. But, masters, here’s money for you: and the general so OTHELLO. 36 [act ih. likes your music, that he desires you, for love’s sake, to make no more noise with it. First Mus. Well, sir, we will not. Clo. If you have any music that may not be heard, to’t again: but, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly care. First Mus. We have none such, sir. Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I’ll away: go: vanish into air; away! [Exeunt Musicians. 21 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 gen- eral’s wife be stirring, tell her there’s one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech: wilt thou do this? Clo. She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her. 31 Cas. Do, good my friend. [Exit Clown . Enter Iago. In happy time, Iago. Iago. You have not been a-bed, then? Cas. Why, no : the day had broke Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, To send in to your wife : my suit to her Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona Procure me some access. Iago. I’ll send her to you presently; And I’ll devise a mean to draw the Moor Out of the way, that your converse and business May be more free. 41 Cas. I humbly thank you for’t. [Exit Iago.'] I never knew A Florentine more kind and honest Enter Emilia. Emil. Good morrow, good lieutenant : I am sorry For your displeasure ; but all will sure 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 Cyprus And great affinity and that in wholesome wisdom He might not but refuse you, but he protests he loves you And needs no other suitor but his likings 51 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, SCENE in.] OTHELLO. 37 Give me advantage of some brief discourse With Desdemona alone. Emil. Pray you, come in; I will bestow you where you shall have time To speak your bosom freely. (jas. I am much bound to you. [Exeunt. Scene II. A room in the castle. Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen. Oth. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot; And by him do my duties to the senate : That done, I will be walking on the works; Repair there to me. Iago. Well, my good lord, 1 11 do t. Oth. This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see’t? Gent. We’ll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. Scene III. The garden of the castle . / Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia. Des. Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf. Emil. Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my hus- band, As if the case were his. , . Des. O, that’s an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio, But I will have my lord and you again As friendly as you were. Gas. Bounteous madam, Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, He’s never any thing but your true servant. Des. I know’t; I thank you. You do love my lord: 10 You have known him long; and be you well assured He shall in strangeness stand no further off Than in a politic distance. , Gas. Ay, but, lady, That 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. Des. Do not doubt that; before Emilia here I give thee warrant of thy place : assure thee, 20 If I do vow a friendship, I’ll perform if 38 OTHELLO. [ACT lit. 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 solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away. Emil. Madam, here comes my lord. Cas. Madam, I’ll take my leave. 30 Des. Why, stay, and hear me speak. Cas. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease, TJntit for mine own purposes. Des. Well, do your discretion. [Exit Cassio. Enter Othello and Iago. Iago. Ha ! I like not that. Oth. What dost thou say? Iago. Nothing, my lord: or if — I know not what. Oth. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? Iago. Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it. That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing you coming. Oth . I do believe ’twas he. 40 Des. 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? Des. Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, His present reconciliation take; For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgement in an honest face: 50 I prithee, call him back. Oth. Went he hence now? Des. Ay, sooth : so humbled That he hath left part of his grief with me, To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time. Des. But shall’t be shortly? Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you. Des. Shall’t be to-night at supper? Oth. No, not to-night. Des. To-morrow dinner, then? Oth. I shall not dine at home ; I meet the captains at the citadel. Des, Why, tlien ? to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn; 60 SCENE m.] OTHELLO. Id' On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn: I prithee, name the time, but let it not Exceed three days: in faith, he’s penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason — Save that, they say, the wars must make examples Out of their 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 would ask me, that I should deny, Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio, 70 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! Trust me, I could do much, — Oth. Prithee, no more: let him comew’hen he will; I will deny thee nothing. Des. 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 oVn person *. nay, when I have a suit 80 Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise and difficult weight And fearful to be granted. Oth. I will deny thee nothing: Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me t*'*' To leave me but a little to myself. Des. Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord. Oth. Farewell, myDesdemona: I’ll come to thee straight. Des. Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you; Whate’er you be, I am obedient. [Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. Oth . Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul, 90 But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again. Iago. My noble lord, — Oth. What dost thou say, Iago? Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo’d my lady, Know of your love ? Oth. He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask? Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought, Iago? No further harm. Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago? Iago. I did not think lie had been acquainted with her. Oth. O, yes; and went between us very oft. 100 Iago. Indeed! 40 OTHELLO. [act hi. Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed: discern’st thou aught in that? Is he not honest? Iago. Honest, my lord! Oth. Honest! ay, honest! Iago. My. lord, for aught I know. Oth. What dost thou think? Iago. 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 dost mean something: I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that, When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like? 110 And when I told thee he was of my counsel In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst “ Indeed !” And didst contract and purse thy brow together, As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit : if thou dost loveTne, Show me thy thought. Iago. My lord, you know I love you. Oth. I think thou dost ; And, for I know thou’rt full of love and honesty, And weigh’st thy words before thougivest them breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: 120 For such things in a false disloyal knave Are tricks of cxingm, but in a man that’s just They are closaguiations, working from the heart That passion cannot rule. Iago. For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn I think that he is honest. Oth. I think so too. Iago. Men should be what th£y seem ; Or those that be not, would they might seem none! Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem. Iago. Why, then, I think Cassio’s an honest man. Oth. Nay, yet there’s more in this: 130 I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. Iago. Good my lord, pardon me: Though I am bound to every 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 uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law-days and in session sit 140 SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 41 With meditations lawful? Oth . Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think’st him wrong’d and makest his ear A stranger to thy thoughts. Iago. 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 jealousy Shapes faults that are not — that your wisdom yet, From one that so imperfectly conceits, Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble 150 Out of his scattering and unsure observance. It were not for your quiet nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, To let you know my thoughts. Oth. What dost thou mean? Iago. Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; ’ tis something, nothing; ’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Bobs me of that which not enriches him 160 And makes me poor indeed. Oth. By heaven, I’ll know thy thoughts. Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, whilst ’tis in my custody. Oth. Ha! Iago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But, O, what damned minutes tells he o’er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves! 170 Oth. O misery! Iago. Poor and content is rich and rich enough, But riches fineless is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor. Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy! Oth. Why, why is this? Think’st thou I’ll make a life of jealousy; 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, 180 When I shall turn the business of my soul To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, Matchingjhy inference, Tis not to make me jealous 42 OTHELLO. [act III. To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves 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 fear or doubt of her revolt; For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago; I’ll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove; 190 And on the proof, there is no more but this, — Away at ouce with love or jealousy! Iago. 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 self-bounty, be abused; look to’t: 200 I know our country disposition well; In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks They dare not show tlier husbands; their best conscience Is not to leave’t undone, but keep’t unknown. Oth. Dost thou say so? Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying you; And when she seem’d to shake and fear your looks, She loved them most. Oth. And so she did. Iago. Why, go to then; She that, so young, could give out such a seeming, To seel her father’s eyes up close as oak — 210 He thought ’twas witchcraft — but I am much to blame; I humbly do beseech you of your pardon For too much loving you. Oth. I am bound to thee for ever. Iago. I see this hath a little dash’d your spirits. Oth. Not a jot, not a jot. Iago. I’ faith, I fear it has. I hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from my love. But I do see you’re moved: I am to pray you not to strain my speech To grosser issues nor to larger reach Than to suspicion. ' 220 Oth. I will not. Iago. Should you do so, my lord, My speech should fall into such vile success As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio’s my worthy friend — • My lord, I see you’re moved, SCENE m.] OTHELLO. 43 Oth. No, not much moved: I do not think hut Desdemona’s honest. Iago. Long live she so ! and long live you to think so 1 Oth. And yet, how nature erring from itself, — Iago. Ay, there’s the point: as — to be bold with you — Not to affect many proposed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, 230 Whereto we see in all things nature tends— Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank. Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. But pardon me ; I do not in position Distinctly 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, farewell : If more thou dost perceive, let me know more: Set on thy wife to observe : leave me, Iago. 240 Iago. [Going] My lord, I take my leave. Oth. Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. Iago. [Returning] My lord, I would I might entreat your honour To scan this thing no further ; leave it to time : Though 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, You shall by that perceive him and his means: Note, if your lady strain his entertainment With any strong or vehement importunity; Much will be seen 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. Iago. I once more take my leave. Oth. This fellow’s of exceeding honesty, And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, Fid whistle her off and let her down the wind. To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have, or for I am declined Into the vale of years, — yet that’s not much— She’s gone. I am abused ; and my relief Must be to loathe her. 0 curse of marriage, 250 [Exit. 360 44 OTHELLO. [act hi. That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites! I had rather he a toad, 270 And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others’ uses. Yet, ’tis the plague of great ones Prerogatived are they less than the base; ’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death: Even then this forked plague is fated to us When we do quicken. Desdemona comes: Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia. If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! I’ll not believe’t. Res. How now, my dear Othello ! Your dinner, and the generous islanders 280 By you invited, do attend your presence. Oth. I am to blame ! Res. Why do you speak so faintly? Are you not well ? Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here. Res. ’Faith, that’s with watching; ’twill away again: Let me but bind it hard, within this hour It will be well. Oth. Your napkin is too little: [ He puts the handkerchief from him; and it drops. Let it alone. Come, I’ll go in with you. Res . I am very sorry that you are not well. [ Exeunt Othello and Resdemona. Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin: 290 This was her first remembrance from the Moor: My wayward husband hath a hundred times Woo’d me to steal it; but she so loves the token, For he conjured her she should ever keep it, That she reserves it evermore about her To kiss and talk to. I’ll have the work ta’en out, And give’t Iago: what he will do with it Heaven knows, not I; I nothing but to please his fantasy. Re-enter Iago. Iago. How now! what do you here alone? 300 Emil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you. Iago. A thing for me? it is a common thing — Emil. Ha! Iago. To have a foolish wife. Emil. O, is that all? What will you give me now For that same handkerchief? SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 45 Iago. What handkerchief? Emil. What handkerchief ! Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona; That which so often you did bid me steal. Iago . Hast stol’n it from her? 310 Emil. No, ’faith; she let it drop by negligence, And, to the advantage, I, being here, took’t up. Look, here it is. Iago . A good wench; give it me. Emil. What will you do with’t, that you have been so earnest To have me filch it? Iago. [Snatching it] Why, what’s that to you? Emil. If it be not for some purpose of import, Give’t me again : poor lady, she’ll run mad When she shall lack it. Iago. Be not acknown on’t; I have use for it. Go, leave me. [Exit Emilia. 320 I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin, And let him find it. Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmation strong As proofs of holy writ: this may do something. The Moor already changes with my poison : Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons, Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act upon the blood, Burn like the mines of sulphur. I did say so: Look, where he comes! Re-enter Othello. Not poppy, nor mandragora, 330 Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou owedst yesterday. Oth. Ha! ha! false to me? Iago. 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 Than but to know’t a little. Iago. How now, my lord ! Oth. What sense had I of her stol’n hours of lust? I saw’t not, thought it not, it harm’d not me : I slept the next night well, was free and merry; 340 I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips: He that is robb’d, not wanting what is stol’n, Let him not know’t, and lie’s not robb’d at all. Iago. I am sorry to hear this. 46 OTHELLO. [act hi. Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body, * So I had nothing known. O, now, forever Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war! And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove’s dread clamours counterfeit. Farewell ! Othello’s occupation’s gone ! Iago. Is’t possible, my lord? Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, Be sure of it ; give me the ocular proof ; Or, by the worth of man’s eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my waked wrath! Iago. 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! Iago. My noble lord, — Oth. If thou dost slander her and torture me, Never pray more; abandon all remorse; On horror’s head horrors accumulate; Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed; For nothing canst thou to damnation add Greater than that. Iago. O grace ! O heaven forgive me ! Are you a man? have you a soul or sense? God be wi’ you ; take mine office. O wretched fool, That livest to make thine honesty a vice! 0 monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe. 1 thank you for this profit; and from hence I’ll love no friend, sitli love breeds such offence. Oth. Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest. Iago. I should be wise, for honesty’s a fool And loses that it works for. Oth. By the world, I think my wife be honest and think she is not; I think thou art just and think thou art not. I’ll have some proofs. Her name that was as fresh As Dian’s visage, is now begrimed and black As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives, 350 360 370 380 SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 47 Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, I’ll not endure it. Would I were satisfied! 390 Iago, 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. Iago. And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord? Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on — Behold her topp’d? Oth. Death and damnation! O! Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, To bring them to that prospect: damn them then, If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster More than their own ! What then? how then? 400 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 gross 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. Give me a living reason she’s disloyal. Iago. I do not like the office: 410 But, sitli I am enter’d in this cause so far, Prick’d 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 loose 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 wary, let us hide our loves;” 420 And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry “ O sweet creature!” and then kiss me hard, As if he pluck’d up kisses by the roots And grew upon my lips: then laid his leg Over my thigh, and sigh’d and kiss’d; and then, . Cried “ Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!” Oth. O monstrous! monstrous! Iago. Hay, this was but his dream. Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion: ’Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. Iago. And this, may help to thicken other proofs 430 That do demonstrate thinly. Oth , I’ll tear her all to pieces, 48 OTHELLO. [act III. Iago. 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. Iago. I know not that: but such a handkerchief — I am sure it was your wife’s — did I to-day See Cassio wipe his beard with. Oth. If it be that, — Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers, 440 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 revenge. Now do I see ’tis true. Look here, Iago; 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 aspics’ tongues! Iago. Yet be content. 450 Oth. 0, blood, blood, blood! Iago. Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change. Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne’er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont, Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne’er look back, ne’er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven, 460 [. Kneels ] In the due reverence of a sacred vow I here engage my words. Iago. Do not rise yet. [Kneels] Witness, you ever-burning lights above, You elements that clip us round about, Witness that here Iago doth give up The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrong’d Othello’s service! Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody business ever. [ They rise. Oth. I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, 470 And will upon the instant put thee to’t: Within these three days let me hear thee say That Cassio’s not alive, SCENE IY.] OTHELLO. 49 Iago. My friend is dead ; ’tis done at your request : But let lier live. Oth. Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn 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. Iago. I am your own for ever. [ Exeunt . Scene IY. Before the castle. Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown. Des. Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies? Glo. I dare not say he lies any where. Des. Why, man? Glo. He’s a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing. Des. Go to: where lodges he? Glo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie. Des. Can any thing be made of this? 10 Glo. I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a lodging and say he lies here or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat. Des. Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report? Glo. I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions, and by them answer. Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well. 20 Glo. To do this is within the compass of man’s wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing it. [Exit. Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? Emil. I know not, madam. Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of crusadoes: 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. Emil. Is he not jealous? Des. Who, he? I think the sun where he was born 30 Drew all such humours from him. Emil. Look, where he comes. Des. I will not leave him now till Cassio Be call’d to him. Enter Othello. How is’t with you, my lord? SHAK. hi, — 16 50 OTHELLO. [act nt Oth. Well, my good lady. [Aside] O, hardness to dis- semble ! — How do you, Desdemona? Des. Well, my good lord. Oth. Give me your hand : this hand is moist, my lady. Des. It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow. Oth. This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart: Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, 40 Much castigation, exercise devout; For here ’s a young and sweating 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 heraldr}^ is hands, not hearts. Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise. Oth. What promise, chuck? Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you. 50 Oth. I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me; Lend me thy handkerchief. Des. Here, my lord. Oth. That wdiich I gave you. Des. I have it not about me. Oth. Hot? Des. Ho, indeed, my lord. Oth. That is a fault. That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give; She w'as a charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people: she told her, while she kept it, ’Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it 60 Or made a gift of it, my father’s eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies : she, dying, gave it me ; And bid me, when my fate w T ould have me wive, To give it her. I did so: and take heed on’t; Make it a darling like your precious eye; To lose’t or give’t away were such perdition As nothing else could match. Des. Is’t possible? Oth. ’Tis true: there’s magic in the w T eb of it: A sibyl, that had number’d in the world 70 The sun to course two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sew’d the work; SCENE IY.] OTHELLO* 51 The worms were hallow’d that did breed the silk; And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful Conserved of maidens’ hearts. Des. Indeed! is’t true? Oth. Most veritable ; therefore look to’t well. Des. Then would to God that I had never seen’t! Oth. Ila! wherefore? Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash? Oth. Is’t lost? is’t gone? speak, is it out o’ the way? 80 Des. Heaven bless us! Oth. Say you? Des. It is not lost; but what an if it were? Oth. How! Des. I say, it is not lost. Oth. Fetcli’t, let me see’t. Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. This is a trick to put me from my suit : Pray you, let Cassio be received again. Oth. Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives. Des. Come, come; 90 You’ll never meet a more sufficient 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. In sooth, you are to blame. Oth. Away ! [Exit. Emil. Is not this man jealous? Des. I ne’er saw this before. 100 Sure, there’s some wonder in this handkerchief: I am most unhappy in the loss of it. Emil. ’Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband! Enter Cassio and I ago. Iago. There is no other way; ’tis she must do’t: And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her. Des. How now, good Cassio! wdiat’s the news with you? Gas. Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you 110 That by your virtuous means I may again Exist, and be a member of his love Whom I with all the office of my heart 52 OTHELLO. [act lit Entirely honour: I would not be delay’d. If my offence be of such mortal kind That nor my 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, 120 And shut myself up in some other course, To fortune’s alms. Des, Alas, tlirice-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 alter’d. 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 awhile be patient: What I can do I will; and more I will 130 Than for myself I dare : let that suffice you. Iago. Is my lord angry? Emil. He went hence but now, And certainly in strange unquietness. Iago. Can he be angry? 1 have seen the cannon, When it hath blown his ranks into the air, And, like the devil, from his very arm Puff’d 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. Des. I prithee, do so. [Exit Iago. Something, sure, of state, 140 Either from Venice, or some unhatch’d practice Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases Men’s natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. ’Tis even so; For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful members even to that sense Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observances As fit the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, 150 I was, unhandsome warrior as I am, Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; But now I find I had suborn’d the witness, And he’s indicted falsely. Emil.' Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think, And no conception nor no jealous toy Concerning you. SCENE IV.] OTHELLO. 53 Des. Alas the day ! I never gave him Cause. Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer’d so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, 160 But jealous for they are jealous: ’tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself. Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello’s mind! Emil. Lady, amen. Des. I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout : If I do find him fit, I’ll move your suit And seek to effect it to my uttermost. Gas. I humbly thank your ladyship. [. Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. Enter Bianca. Bian. Save you, friend Cassio! Cas. What make you from home? How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? 170 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? Eight score eight hours? and lovers’ absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? 0 weary reckoning! Gas. Pardon me, Bianca: 1 have this while with leaden thoughts been press’d; But I shall, in a more continuate time, Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, [' Giving her Desdemona 1 s handkerchief. Take me this work out. Bian. O Cassio, whence came this? 180 This is some token from a newer friend: To the felt absence now I feel a cause: Is’t come to this? Well, well. Gas. Go to, woman! Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now That this is from some mistress, some remembrance: No, in good troth, Bianca. Bian. Why, whose is it? Gas. 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’ld have it copied : 190 Take it, and do’t; and leave me for this time. Bian. Leave you! wherefore? Gas. I do attend here on the general; And think it no addition, nor my wish, To have him see me woman’d. 54 OTHELLO. [act rv. Bian. Why, I pray you? Cas. Hot that I love you not. Bian. But that you do not love me. I pray you, bring me on the way a little, And say if I shall see you soon at night. Cas. ’Tis but a little way that I can bring you ; For I attend here : but I’ll see you soon. 200 Bian. ’Tis very good ; I must be circumstanced, [j Exeunt. ACT IV. Scene I. Cyprus. Before the castle. Enter Othello and Iago. Iago. Will you think so? Oth. Think so, Iago ! Iago. What, To kiss in private? Oth. An unauthorized kiss. Iago. Or to be naked with her friend in bed An hour or more, not meaning any harm? Oth. Haked in bed, Iago, 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. Iago. So they do nothing, ’tis a venial slip: But if I give my wife a handkerchief, — 10 Oth. What then? Iago. Why, then, ’tis hers, my lord ; and, being hers, She may, I think, bestow’t on any man. Oth. She is protectress of her honour too : May she give that? Iago. Her honour is an essence that’s not seen; They have it very oft that have it not: But, for the handkerchief, — Oth. By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it. Thou said’st — O, it comes o’er my memory, 20 As doth the raven o’er the infected house, Boding to all — he had my handkerchief. Iago. Ay, what of that? Oth. That’s not so good now. Iago. What, If I had said I had seen him do you wrong? Or heard him say, — as knaves be such abroad, Who having, by their own importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, SCENE I.] OTHELLO. 55 Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose But they must blab — Oth. Hath he said any thing? Iago. He hath, my lord ; but be you well assured, 30 No more than he’ll unswear. Oth. What hath he said? Iago . ’Faith, that he did — I know not what he did. Oth. What? what? Iago. Lie — Oth. With her? Iago. With her, on her; what you will. Oth. Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when they belie her. Lie with her! that’s fulsome. — Handker- chief — confessions — handkerchief ! — To confess, and be hanged for his labour; — first, to be hanged, and then to confess. — I tremble at it. Nature would not invest her- self in such shadowing passion without some instruction. It is not words that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips. — Is’t possible? — Confess — handkerchief! — O devil! [Falls in a trance. Iago. 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 ! Enter Cassio. How now, Cassio! Gas. What’s the matter? 50 Iago. My lord is fall’n into an epilepsy: This is his second fit; be had one yesterday. Gas. Rub him about the temples. Iago. 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 straight: when he is gone, I would on great occasion speak with you. [Exit Cassio. How is it, general? have you not hurt your head? 60 Oth. Dost thou mock me? Iago. I mock you ! no, by heaven. Would you would bear your fortune like a man! Oth. A horned man’s a monster and a beast. Iago. There’s many a beast then in a populous city, And many a civil monster. Oth , Did he confess it? 56 OTHELLO. [act iy. Iago. Good sir, be a man ; Think every bearded fellow that’s but yoked May draw with you: there’s millions now alive That nightly lie in those unproper beds Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better. 70 O, ’tis the spite of hell, the fiend’s arcli-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure couch, 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. Iago. Stand you awhile apart; Confine yourself but in a patient list. Whilst you were here o’erwlielmed with your grief — A passion most unsuiting such a man — Cassio came hither: I shifted him away, And laid good ’scuse upon your ecstasy, 80 Bade him anon return and here speak with me; The which he promised. Do but encave yourself, And mark the fleers, the gibes, 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 hath, and is again to cope your wife: I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience; Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen, And nothing of a man. Oth. Dost thou hear, Iago? 90 I will be found most cunning in my patience; But— dost thou hear? — most bloody. Iago. That’s not amiss; But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw? [ Othello retires. Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A housewife 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: He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain From the excess of laughter. Here he comes : 100 Re-enter Cassio. As he shall 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 worser that you give me the addition Whose want even kills me, 57 scene i.] OTHELLO, Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on’t. [, Speaking lower ] Now, if this suit lay in Bianca’s power. How quickly should you speed 1 Cas. Alas, poor caitiff! Oth. Look, how he laughs already ! 110 lago. I never knew woman love man so. Cas. Alas, poor rogue! I think, i’ faith, she loves me. Oth. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out. Iago. Do you hear, Cassio? Oth. Now he importunes him To tell it o’er: go to; well said, well said. Iago. She gives it out that you shall marry her : Do you intend it? Cas. Ha, ha, ha! 120 Oth. Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph? Cas. I marry her! what? a customer! Prithee, bear some charity to my wit ; do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha! Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh that win. Iago. ’Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her. Cas. Prithee, say true. Iago. I am a very villain else. Oth. Have you scored me? Well. 130 Cas. This is the monkey’s own giving out: she is per- suaded I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise. Oth. Iago beckons me; now he begins the story. Cas. She was here even now; she haunts me in every place. I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with certain Venetians; and thither comes the bauble, and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck — 140 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. O. I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to. Cas. Well, I must leave her company. Iago. Before me! look, where she comes. 150 Cas. ’Tis such another fitchew ! marry, a perfumed one. Enter Bianca. 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 the 58 OTHELLO. [act IV. work? — A likely piece of work, that you should find it in your chamber, and not know who left it there! This is some minx’s token, and I must take out the work? There; give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever you had it, I’ll take out no work on’t. 161 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. Iago. After her, after her. 170 Cas. ’Faith, I must ; she’ll rail in the street else. Iago. Will you sup there? Cas. ’Faith, I intend so. Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very fain speak with you. Cas. Prithee, come; will you? Iago. Go to; say no more. [Exit Cassio. Oth. [Advancing] How shall I murder him, Iago? 180 Iago. Hid you perceive how he laughed at his vice? Oth. O Iago! Iago. And did you see the hankercliief? Oth. Was that mine? Iago. Yours, by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he hath given it his whore. Oth. I would have him nine years a-killing. A fine wo- man! a fair woman! a sweet woman! Iago. Nay, you must forget that. 190 Oth. Ay, 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 hath not a sweeter creature : she might lie by an emperor’s side and command him tasks. Iago. 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 high and plenteous wit and invention: — 201 Iago. She’s the worse for all this. Oth. O, a thousand thousand times: and then, of so gentle a condition ! Iago. Ay, too gentle. Oth. Nay, that’s certain: but yet the pity of it, Iago! 0 Iago, the pity of it, Iago ! Iago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her pa- tent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes near no- body. 210 SCENE I.] OTHELLO. 59 Oth. I will chop her into messes : cuckold me ! lago. O, ’tis foul in her. Oth . With mine officer! lago. That’s fouler. Oth. Get me some poison, lago; this night: I’ll not ex- postulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again: this night, lago. 219 lago. Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. Oth. Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very good. lago. And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you shall hear more by midnight. Oth. Excellent good. [A trumpet within.'] What trumpet is that same? lago. Something from Venice, sure. ’Tis Lodovico Come from the duke : and, see, your wife is with him. Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants. Lod. Save you, worthy general ! Oth. With all my heart, sir. Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you [ Gives him a letter. Oth. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures. [ Opens the letter , and reads . Des. And what’s the news, good cousin Lodovico? lago. I am very glad to see you, signior; Welcome to Cyprus. Lod. I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio? lago. Lives, 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. [Beads] “ This fail you not to do, as you will — ” 240 Lod. He did not call; he’s busy in the paper. Is there division ’twixt my lord and Cassio? Des. A most unhappy one : I would do much To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio. Oth. Fire and brimstone ! Des. My lord? Oth. Are you wise? Des. 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. Des. Trust me, I am glad on’t. Qth t Indeed! 60 OTHELLO. [ACT IV. Des. My lord? Oth. I am glad to see you mad. Des . Why, sweet Othello, — 250 Oth. r Striking her ] Devil ! Des. I have not deserved this. Lod. My lord, this would not be believed in Venice, Though I should swear I saw’t: ’tis very much: Make her amends ; she weeps. Oth. O devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. Out of my sight! Des. I will not stay to offend you. [ Going . Lod. Truly, an obedient lady: I do beseech your lordship, call her back. 260 Oth. Mistress! Des. My lord ? Oth. What would you with her, sir? Lod. Who, I, my lord? Oth. Ay; 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 w T eep, 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 home. Get you away; I’ll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate, 270 And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt! [Exit Desdemona. Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night, I do entreat that we may sup together: You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. — Goats and monkeys! [Exit. Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze nor pierce? Iago. He is much changed. Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain? 280 Iago. He’s that he is: I may not breathe my censure What he might be: if what he might he is not, I would to heaven he were! Lod. What, strike his wife! Iago. ’Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew That stroke would prove the worst! Lod, Is it his vise? SCENE II.] OTHELLO. Cl Or did the letters work upon his blood, And new-create this fault? Iago. Alas, alas! It is not honesty in me to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe him, And his own courses will denote him so 290 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 . Scene II. A room in the castle . Enter Othello and Emilia. Oth. .You have seen nothing, then? Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect. Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together. Emil. But then I saw no harm, and then I heard Each syllable that breath made up between them. Oth. What, did they never whisper? Emil. Never, my lord. Oth. Nor send you out o’ the way? Emil. Never. Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? Emil. Never, my lord. 10 Oth. That’s strange. Emil. 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 have put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent’s curse! For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There’s no man happy; the purest of their wives Is foul as slander. Oth. Bid her come hither: go. [ Exit Emilia. She says enough; yet she’s a simple bawd 20 That cannot say as much This is a subtle whore, A closet lock and key of villanous secrets: And yet she’ll kneel and pray; I have seen her do’t. Enter Desdemona with Emilia. 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? 62 OTHELLO. [ACT IV. Oth. [To Emilia ] Some of your function, mistress; Leave procreants alone and sliut the door; Cough, or cry “hem,” if any body come: Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch. 80 [Exit Emilia. Des. Upon my knees, what doth 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 seize thee: therefore be double damn’d: 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? 40 Oth. ODesdemona! away! away! away! Des. Alas the heavy day ! Why do you weep? Ami the motive of these 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 lost him, Why, I have lost him too. Oth. Had it pleased heaven To try me with affliction; had they rain’d All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head, Steep’d me in poverty to the very lips, 50 Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, I should have found in some place 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 finger at! Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: But there, where I have garner’d up my heart, Where either I must live, or bear no life; The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up; to be discarded thence! 60 Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in ! Turn thy complexion there, Patience, thou young and rose-lipp’d cherubin, — Ay, there, look grim as hell! Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, Who art so lovely fair and smell’st so sweet SCENE II.] OTHELLO. 63 That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne’er been born! Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? 70 Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write “whore” upon? What committed I Committed! O thou public commoner! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed! Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks, The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets Is hush’d within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear it. What committed! 80 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 other foul unlawful touch Be not to be a strumpet, I am none. Oth. What, not a whore? Des. No, as I shall be saved. Oth. Is’t possible? Des. O, heaven forgive us! Oth. I cry you mercy, then: I took you for that cunning whore of Venice That married with Othello. [. Raising his voice ] You, mis- tress, 90 That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keep the gate of hell ! Re-enter Emilia. You, you, ay, you: We have done our course; there’s money for your pains: I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel. [Exit. Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? How do 3 r ou, madam? how do you, my good lady? Des. ’Faith, half asleep. Emil . Good madam, what’s the matter with my lord? Des. With who? Emil. Why, with my lord, madam. 100 Des. Who is thy lord? Emil. He that is yours, sweet lady. Des. I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia; I cannot weep; nor answer have I none, But what should go by water. Prithee, to-night 64 OTHELLO. [act IV s . Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: temefriber; And call thy husband hither. Emil. Here’s a change indeed ! [Exit. Des. ’Tis meet I should be used so, very meet. How have I been behaved, that he might stick The small’st opinion on my least misuse? Be-enter Emilia with Iago. Iago. What is your pleasure, madam? How is’t with you? 110 Des. I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes Bo it with gentle means and easy tasks: He might have chid me so; for, in good faith, I am a child to chiding. Iago. What’s the matter, lady? Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewliored her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, As true hearts cannot bear. Des. Am I that name, Iago? Iago. What name, fair lady? Des. Such as she says my lord did say I was. Emil. He call’d her whore: a beggar in his drink 120 Could not have laid such terms upon his callat. Iago. Why did he so? Des. I do not know; I am sure I am none such. Iago. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day! Emil. Hath she forsook so many noble matches, Her father and her country and her friends, To be call’d whore? would it not make one weep? Des. It is my wretched fortune. Iago. Beshrew him for’t! How comes this trick upon him? Des. Nay, heaven doth know. Emil. I will be bang’d, if some eternal villain, 130 Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devised this slander; I’ll be bang’d else. Iago. Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible. Des. If any such there be, heaven pardon him! Emil. A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones! Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company? What place? what time? what form? what likelihood? The Moor’s abused by some most villanous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. O heaven, that such companions thou’ldst unfold, And put in every honest hand a whip F SCENE II.] Othello. 65 T To lash the rascals naked through the world 'Even from the east to the we'Stl Iago. Spfeak within door. lEmil. O, fie upon them ! Some such squire he wa£ That turn’d your wit the seamy side without; And made you to suspect me with the Moor: Iago.. You are a fool ; go to. Des. O good Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven, 150 I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: If e’er my will did trespass ’gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, Delighted them in any other form; * Or that I do not yet, and ever did, ,And ever will — though he do shake me off 'To beggarly divorcement — love him dearly, (Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much: And his unkindness may defeat my life, 160 Rut never taint my love. I cannot say “ whore:” It doth abhor me now I speak the word; To do the act that might the addition earn Not the world’s mass of vanity could make me. Iago. I pray you, be content; ’tis but his humour: The business of the state does him offence, And he does chide with you. j Des. If ’twere no other, — Iago. ’Tis but so, I warrant. [ Trumpets within. mark* how these instruments summon to supper! The messengers of Venice stay the meat: 170 do ip, -and weep not; all things shall be well. \Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia . Enter Roderigo. How now, Roderigo ! Rod I do not find that thou dealest justly with me. Iago. What in the contrary? Rod. Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago ; and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all - conveniency than supplies! me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure it, nor am I yet per- •suadSd to put up in peace what already I have foolishly ^suffered. Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo? 66 OTHELLO. [act iv. Rod. ’Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and performances are no kin together. Iago. You charge me most unjustly. Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a votarist: you have told me she hath received them and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and ac- quaintance, but I find none. Iago. Well; go to; very well. Bod. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor ’tis not very well : nay, I think it is scurvy, and begin to find my- self fobbed in it. Iago. Very well. Rod. I tell you ’tis 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 will seek satisfaction of you. Iago. You have said now. Bod. Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intend- ment of doing. Iago. Why, now I see there’s mettle in thee, and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: thou hast taken against me a most just exception: but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair. Rod. It hath not appeared. Iago. I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your sus- picion is not without wit and judgement. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater rea- son to believe now than ever, I mean purpose, courage and valour, this night show it: if thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life. Rod. Well, what is it? is it within reason and compass? Iago. Sir, there is especial commission come from Ven- ice to depute Cassio in Othello’s plaee. Rod. Is that trne? why, then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice. Iago. 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 determin- ate as the removing of Cassio. Rod. How do you mean, removing of him? Iago. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello’s place; knocking out his brains. Rod. And that you would have me to do? SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 67 Iago. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups to-night with a harlotry, 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. 250 Rod. I will hear further reason for this. Iago. And you shall be satisfied. [ Exeunt . Scene III. Another room in the castle. Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, and At- tendants. Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further. Oth. O, pardon me ; ’twill do me good to walk. Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your lady- ship. Des. Your honour is most welcome. Oth. Will you walk, sir? O, — Desdemona, — Des. My lord ? Oth. Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it be done. Des. I will, my lord. 10 [ Exeunt Othello , Lodovico , and Attendants. Emil. How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did. Des. He says he will return incontinent : He hath commandeth me to go to bed, And bade me to dismiss you. Emil. Dismiss me! Des. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu: We must not now displease him. Emil. I would you had never seen him! Des. So would not I: my love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns, — 20 Prithee, unpin me, — have grace and favour in them. Emil. I have laid those 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, 68 OTHELLO. [act rv\ Emil. Come, come, you talk. Des. My mother liad a maid call’d Barbara: She was in love, and he she loved proved mad And did forsake her: she had a song of “willow;” An old thing ’twas, but it express’d her fortune, And she died singing it: that song to-night 30 ' Will not go from my mind; I have much to do, But to go hang my head all at one side, And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch. Emil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown? Des. No, unpin me here. This Lodovico is a proper man. Emil. A very handsome man. Des. He speaks well. Emil . I know a lady in Venice would have walked bare- foot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip. 40 Des. [Singing] The poor soul sat sighing by a syce more tree, Sing all a green willow; Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow : The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur’d her moans ; Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and soften’d the stones; — Lay by these : — [Singing] Sing willow, willow, willow; Prithee, hie thee; lie’ll come anon: — 50 [Singing] Sing all a green willow must be my garland. Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve, — Nay, that’s not next. — Hark! who is’t that knocks? Emil. It’s the wind. Des. [Singing] I call’d my love false love ; but what said he then? Sing willow, willow, willow: If I court moe women, you’ll couch with moe men. — So, get thee gone ; good night. Mine eyes do itch ; Doth that bode weeping? Emil. ’Tis neither here nor there. Des. I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men! Dost thou in conscience think,— tell me, Emilia, — 61 That there be women do abuse their husbands. In such gross kind? Emil. There be some such, no question. Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? Emil. Why, would you not? Des, v No, by this heavenly light! SCENE III.] OTHELLO. 09 Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light; I might do’t as well i’ the dark. Des. Wouldstthou do such a deed for all the world? Emil. The world’s a huge thing: it is a great price For a small vice. Des. In troth, I think thou wouldst not. 70 Emil. In troth, I think I should; and undo’t when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, now for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but, for the whole world, — why, who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for’t. Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong For the whole word. 79 Emil. 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. Emil. Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would store the world they played for. But I do think it is their husbands' faults If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties, And pour our treasures into foreign laps, Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 90 Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us, Or scant our former having in despite; Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have. What is it that they do When they change us for others? Is it sport? I think it is: and doth affection breed it? I think it doth: is’t frailty that thus errs? 100 It is so too: and have not we affections, Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? Then let them use us well: else let them know, The ills we do, their ills instruct us so. Des. Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! [ Exeunt , 70 OTHELLO. [act v. ACT Y. Scene I. Cyprus. A street . Enter Iago and Roderigo. Iago. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come: Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home: Quick, quick; fear nothing; I’ll be at thy elbow: It makes us, or it mars us; think on that, And fix most firm thy resolution. Bod. Be near at hand ; I may miscarry in’t. Iago. Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand. [Retires. Bod. I have no great devotion to the deed; And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons: ’Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies. 10 Iago. I have rubb’d this young quat 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 gain : live Roderigo, He calls me to a restitution large Of gold and jewels that I bobb’d from him, As gifts to Desdemona; It must not be : if Cassio do remain, He hath a daily beauty in his life That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor 20 May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril: No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming. Enter Cassio. Bod. I know his gait, ’tis he. — Villain, thou diest! [Makes a pass at Cassio. Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou know’st: I will make proof of thine. [Draws, and wounds Boderigo. Bod. 0,1 am slain! [Iago from 'behind wounds Cassio in the leg , and exit. Cas. Iam maim’d for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder! [ Falls Enter Othello. Oth. The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word. Bod. 0, villain that I am! Oth. It is even so. Gas , 0, help, ho! light! a surgeon! 30 OTHELLO* 71 wnm i.] Oth. *Tis he: — 0 brave Iago, honest and just, That hath such noble sense of thy friend’s wrong! Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead, And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come. Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted ; Thy bed, lust-stain’d, shall with lust’s blood be spotted. [Exit. Enter Lodovico and Gratiano. Cas. What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder! Ora. ’Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful. Cas. O, help! Lod. Hark ! 40 Bod. O wretched villain! Lod. Two or three groan : it is a heavy night : These may be counterfeits : let’s think’t unsafe To come in to the cry without more help. Bod. Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death. Lod. Hark! Be-enter Iago, with a light. Gra. Here’s one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons. Iago. Who’s there? whose noise is this that cries on mur- der? Lod. We do not know. Iago. Did not you hear a cry? Cas. Here, here! for heaven’s sake, help me? Iago. What’s the matter? 50 Gra. This is Othello’s ancient, as I take it. Lod. The same indeed; a very valiant fellow. Iago. What are you here that cry so grievously? Cas. Iago? O, I am spoil’d, undone by villains! Give me some help. Iago. O me, lieutenant! what villains hate done this? Cas. I think that one of them is hereabout, And cannot make away. Iago. O treacherous villains! What are you there? come in, and give some help. \To Lodotico and Gratiano. Bod. O, help me here! 60 Cas. That’s one of them. Iago. 0 murderous slave! O villain! [Stabs Boderigo. Bod. O damn’d Iago! O inhuman dog! Iago. Kill men i’ the dark! — Where be these bloody thieves? — O’THELLO. [act V, w 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. lago. Signior Lodovico? Lod. He, sir. Iago. I cry you mercy. Here’s Cassio hurt by villains. Ora . Cassio! 70 Iago. How is’t, brother! Cas. My leg is cut in two. Iago. Marry, heaven forbid! Light, gentlemen: I’ll bind it with my shirt. \ Enter Bianca. Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is’t that cried? Iago. Who is’t that cried ! Bian. O my dear Cassio ! my sweet Cassio ! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! Iago. O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be that have thus mangled you? Cas. Ho. 80 Gra. I am sorry to find you thus: I have been to seek you. Iago. Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair, To bear him easily hence! Bian. Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash To be a party in this injury. Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; Lend me a light. Know we this face or no? Alas, my friend and my dear countryman Roderigo! no: — yes, sure: — O heaven! Roderigo. 00 Gra. What, of Venice? Iago. Even he, sir : did you know him? Gra. Know him! ay. Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon ; These bloody accidents must excuse my maimers, That so neglected you. . Gra. I am glad to see you. Iago. How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair! Gra. Roderigo! Iago. He, he, ’tis he. [A chair brought in .] 0, that’s well said; the chair. v Some good man bear him carefully from hence; I’ll fetch the general’s surgeon. [To Bianca] For you, mis- tress, 100 Save you your labour. He that lies slain here, Cassio, Was my dear friend: what malice was between you? SCENE II.] OTHELLO. 73 Gas. None in the world; nor do I know the man. Iago. [To Bian .] What, look you pale? 0, bear him out o’ the air. [ Gassio and Roderigo are borne off. Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress? Do you perceive the gastness of her eye? Nay, if you stare, we shall hear 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. liO Enter Emilia. Emil. ’Las, what’s the matter? what’s the matter, hus- band? Iago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped: He’s almost slain, and Roderigo dead. Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio! Iago. This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia, Go know of Cassio where he supp’d to-night. [To Bianca ] What, do you shake at that? Bian. He supp’d at my house; but I therefore shake not. Iago. O, did he so? I charge you, go with me. 120 Emil. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet! Bian. I am no strumpet; but of life as honest As you that thus abuse me. Emil. As I! foh! fie upon thee! Iago. Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dress’d. Come, mistress, you must tell’s another tale. Emilia, run you to the citadel, And tell my lord and lady what hath happ’d. Will you go on? I pray. [. Aside ] This is the night That either makes me or fordoes me quite. [Exeunt. Scene II. A bedchamber in the castle ; Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning. Enter Othello. 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 scar 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, 74 OTHELLO. [act V. Should I repent me *. but once put out thy light, 10 Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume. When I have pluck’d the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs wither; I’ll smell it on the tree. [Kissing Tier. Ah, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword! One more, one more. Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after. One more, and this the last: So sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must vreep, 20 But they are cruel tears: this sorrow’s heavenly; It strikes where it doth love. She wakes. Des. Who’s there? Othello? Oth. Ay, Desdemona. Des. Will you come to bed, my lord? Oth. Have you pray’d to-night, Desdemona? Des. Ay, 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 do you mean by that? Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by: 30 I would not kill thy unprepared spirit; No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul. Des. Talk you of killing? Oth. Ay, 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 loves I bear to you. 40 Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest. Des. That death’s unnatural that kills for loving. * Alas, w r hy gnaw you so your nether lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame: These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me. Oth. Peace, and be still! Des. I will so. What’s the matter? * SCENE II.] OTHELLO. 75 Otli. 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, 50 Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy death-bed. Des. Ay, 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 conception 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 60 As I might love; I never gave him token. Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in’s hand. 0 perjured woman ! thou dost stone my heart, And makest me call what I intend to do A murder, which I thought a sacrifice: 1 saw the handkerchief. Des. He found it then; I never gave it him: send for him hither; Let him confess a truth. Oth. He hath confess’d. Des. What, my lord? Oth. That he hath used thee. Des. How? unlawfully? Oth. Ay. 70 Des. He will not say so. Oth. No, his mouth is stopp’d; Honest Iago hath ta’en order for’t. Des. Oh! my fear interprets: w^hat, is he dead? Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had stomach for them all. Des. Alas! he is betray’d and I undone. Oth. Out, strumpet! weep’st 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! 80 Oth. Nay, if you strive, — Des. But half an hour! Oth. Being done, there is no pause. Des. But while I say one prayer ! OTHELLO. [act? V. 76 Oth . It is too late. [He stifles Tier . Emil. [ Within ] My lord, my lord I what, hoi my lord, my lord! Oth . What noise is this? Hot dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel am yet merciful ; I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so. Emil. [ Within] What, ho: my lord, my lord! Oth. Who’s there? Emil. [ Within] 0, good my lord, I would speak a word with you ! 90 Oth. Yes: ’tis Emilia. By and by. She’s dead. ’Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s 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 best to do? If she come in, she’ll sure speak to my wife: My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife: O, insupportable! O heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration. 100 Emil. [ Within] I do beseech you That I may speak with you, O, good my lord ! Oth. I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia: Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw. Where art thou? [Unlocks the door. Enter Emilia. What’s the matter with thee now? Emil. O, my good lord, yonder’s foul murders done! Oth. What, now? Emil. But now, my lord. Oth. It is the very error of the moon; She comes more nearer earth than the was wont, 110 And makes men mad. Emil. Cassio, my lord, hath kill’d a young Venetian Called Roderigo. Oth. Roderigo kill’d! And Cassio kill’d ! Emil. Ho, Cassio is not kill’d. Oth. Hot Cassio kill’d! then murder’s out of tune, And sweet revenge grows harsh. Des. O, falsely, falsely murder’d! Emil. Alas, what cry is that? Oth . That! what? i OTHELLO. 77 SCENTS II.] Emil. Out, and alas! that was my lady’s voice. Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again! 120 Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak! Des. A guiltless death I die. Emil. 0, who hath done this deed? Des. Nobody; I myself. Farewell: commend me to my kind lord; O, farewell! [Dies. Oth. Why, how should she be murder’d ? Emil. Alas, who knows? Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I. Emil. She said so : I must needs report the truth. Oth. She’s, like a liar, gone to burning hell : *Twas I that kill’d her. Emil . O, the more angel she, 130 And you the blacker devil! Oth. She turned to folly, and she was a whore. Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. Oth. She was false as water. Emil . Thou art 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 damn’d beneath all depth in hell, But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. Emil. My husband ! 140 Oth. Thy husband. Emil. That she was false to wedlock ? Oth. Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite. Fid not have sold her for it. Emil. My husband! Oth. Ay, ’twas he that told me first: An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds. Emil. My husband ! Oth. What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy hus- band. 150 Emil. O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love! My husband say that she was false ! Oth. He, woman; I say thy husband: dost understand the word? My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago. Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul Hot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart: She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. Oth . Ha! / 78 OTHELLO. [act Emil. Do thy worst: This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven 160 That thou wast worthy her. Oth. Peace, you were best. Emil. Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As I have to be hurt. O gull ! O dolt ! As ignorant as dirt ! thou hast done a deed — I care not for thy sword ; I’ll make thee known, Though I lost twenty lives. — Help! help, ho! help! The Moor hath kill’d my mistress! Murder! murder l Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others . Mon. What is the matter? How now, general! Emil. O, are you come, Iago? you have done well, That men must "lay their murders on your neck. 170 Gra. What is the matter? Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou be’st a man: He says thou told’st him that his wife was false: I know thou didst not, thou’rt not such a villain: Speak, for my heart is full, Iago. I told him wliat I thought, and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true. Emil. But did you ever tell him she w T as false? Iago. I did. Emil. You told a lie; an odious, damned lie; 180 Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie. She false with Cassio! — did you say with Cassio? Iago. With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue. Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak: My mistress here lies murder’d in her bed, — All. O heavens f orfend ! Emil. And your reports have set the murder on. Oth. Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed. Gra. ’Tis a strange truth, Mon. O monstrous act! Emil. Villany, villanv, villany! 190 I think upon’t, I think: I smell’t: O villany! — I thought so then: — I’ll kill myself for grief: — O villany, villany! Iago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home. Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak: ’Tis proper I obey him, but not now. Perchance, Iago, I will ne’er go home. Oth. O! O! O! [He falls on the bed. Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar; For thou hast kill’d the sweetest innocent That e’er did lift up eve. SCENE II.] OTHELLO. 70 Oth. [Rising] 0, she was foul ! 200 I scarce did know you, uncle : there lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp’d: I know this act shows horrible 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 in twain: 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 Iago knows 210 That she with Cassio hath the act of shame A thousand times committed; Cassio confess’d it; And she did gratify his amorous works With that 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. Emil. O heaven! O heavenly powers! Iago. Come, hold your peace. Emil. ’Twill out, ’twill out: I peace! No, I will speak as liberal as the north: 220 Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I’ll speak. Iago. Be wise, and get you home. Emil. I will not. [Iago offers to stab Emilia. Gra. Fie ! Your sword upon a woman? Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak’st of I found by fortune and did give my husband; For often, with a solemn earnestness, More than indeed belong’d to such a trifle, He begg’d of me to steal it. Iago. Villanous whore! 229 Emil. She give it Cassio ! no, alas ! I found it, And I did give’t my husband. Iago. Filth, thou liest ! Emil. By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen. O murderous coxcomb ! what should such a fool Do with so good a woman? Oth. Are there no stones in heaven But what serve for the thunder? — Precious villain : [He runs at Iago: Iago, from behind, stabs Emelia, and exit. Gra. The woman falls; sure, he hath kill’d his wife. 80 OTHELLO, [act Y 4 Emil. Ay, ay: 0, lay me by my mistress ’ side. Gra. He’s gone, but his wife’s kill’d. Mon. ’Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, Which I have here recover’d from the Moor: 240 Come, guard the door without; let him not pass, But kill him rather. I’ll after that same villain, For ’tis a damned slave. \ Exeunt Montano and Gratiano. Oth. I am not valiant neither, But every puny whipster gets my sword : But why should honour outlive honesty? Let it go all. Emil. What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan, And die in music. [Singing] Willow, willow, willow. — Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor; So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; 250' So speaking as I think, I die, I die. [Dies.. Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber; It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook’s temper: — O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth. Gra. [Within] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. Oth. Look in upon me then and speak with me, Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. Re-enter Gratiano. ✓ 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 Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast! Who can control his fate? ’tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon’d; Here is my journey’s end, here is my butt, And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismay’d? ’tis a lost fear; Man but a rush against Othello’s breast. And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr’d wench! Pale as thy smock! when Ave shall meet at compt, 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, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight ! 260 270 6CENE II. ] OTHELLO. 81 Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur 1 Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! 280 O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead! Oh! Oh! Oh! Enter Lodovico, Montano, Cassio carried in a chair , and Officers with I ago, prisoner. Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? Oth . That’s he that was Othello: here I am. Lod. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. Oth. I look down towards his feet; but that’s a fable. If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill tliee. [ Wounds Iago. Lod. Wrench his sword from him. Iago. I bleed, sir; but not kill’d. Oth. I am not sorry neither: X’ld have thee live; For, in my sense, ’tis happiness to die. 2S0 Lod. O thou Othello, that wert once so good, Fall’n in the practice <5f a damned slave, What shall be said to thee? Oth. Why, any thing: An honourable murderer, if you will; For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. Lod. This wretch hath part confess’d his villany: Did you and he consent in Cassio’s death? Oth. Ay. Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause. Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. BOO Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body? Iago. Demand me nothing: what you know, you know From this time forth I never will speak word. Lod. What, not to pray? Ora. Torments will ope your lips. Oth. Well, thou dost best. Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall’n, 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 BlO The death of Cassio to be undertook By Roderigo. Oth. O villain ! Cas. Most heathenish and most gross 1 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 Iago in the interim Came in and satisfied him. shak. hi.— 17 82 OTHELLO, [act V. Oth. O the pernicious caitiff ! How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief That was my wife’s? Cas. I found it in my chamber: 320 And he himself confess’d but even now That there he dropp’d it for a special purpose Which wrought to his desire. Oth. Ofool! fool! fooll Cas. There is besides in Roderigo’s letter, How he upbraids Iago, that he made him Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came That I was cast: and even but now he spake, After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, Iago set him on. Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with us: 330 Your power and your command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. 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 before you go. I have done the state some service, and they know’t. Ho more of that. I pray you, in your letters, 340 When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Hor 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 Perplex’d 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, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 350 Their medicinal gum. Set you down this; And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban’d Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him, thus. [ Stabs himself. Lod. O bloody period! Gra. All that’s spoke is marr’d. Oth. I kiss’d thee ere I kill’d thee: no way but this; Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Falls on the bed, and dies , SCENE II.] OTHELLO. 83 Gas. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon ; For he was great of heart. Lod. [To Iago\ O Spartan dog, 361 More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! Look on the tragic loading of this bed ; This is thy work: the object poisons sight; Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house, And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor, Remains the censure of this hellish villain; The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce it! Myself will straight abroad ; and to the state 870 This heavy act with heavy heart relate. ' PUBLISHERS* NOTICE, The text of tliis play is that of the ‘'Globe edition,” with the exception that in passages left conjectural by the Globe editors, the readings from the text of Dyce’s last edition are substitued. The* numbering of the lines is that of the Globe edition, this numbering being now uni- versally accepted as the most convenient means of refer- ence to particular passages. The complete works of Shakespeare are being issued in three bound volumes, uniform with this play in type and size of page, at the price of $1.50 in cloth, and $3.00 in half Russia, gilt top. The following plays are being issued in separate pamphlets, price three cents each : The Tempest. ^ King Henry VHI. Much Ado about Nothing. A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Romeo and Juliet. ^✓The Merchant of Venice. As You Like It. King John. King Henry V. King Richard HI ^/Julius Coesar. Macbeth. Hamlet. King Lear. / Othello. Antony and Cleopatra = PARALLEL-EDITION. = WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. OTHELLO. BY ILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 0f6effo. U&erielst »on %. si. V. SdHfgel U. t Bevorwortet mid eingeleitet Prof. Dr. Karl Sachs. LEIPZIG. Moritz Schaefer. 1884 . PHILADELPHIA. E. SOLEFER et KORADI. = ENGLISH and GERMAN. ==- M 5 . 4 Englisch und Deutsch. tt> i 1 1 1 sa m THE WORKS OF William Shakespeare Translated into German by A. W. you Schlegel. With a preface and introductions by Charles Sachs. M V. 0 T H E L L 0. ogxo LEIPZIG. MORITZ SCHAFER, PUBLISHER. PHILADELPHIA: SCH/EFER & KORADI. Pilliftm Hakclptire’s jiberffM t>ott J\. I!?, poit J>d?fecjef. , ^euoraortet unb cingcleitct OOlt " 2 frof. Dr. Jiiarf g>ctc&s. M V. Oft f l| v l ( <*♦ 35 e r t a cj »on DJiorife ©cfjiifcr. ^Uabetyfjia: Srfjafer & &orabi. Othello. OTHELLO is the drama which the English greatly appreciate on account of its rather simple construc- tion, though we might with good reasons find fault with its tragical development. There is a great deal of bitterness in the final destruction of the good and the beautiful , but much less of the moments which at the same time raise our soul and relieve it from pain, which is the very aim and object of the tragic art (Ulrici 360) , it is more a drama of intrigues than of character. Fantastical love, not that of the heart joins Desdemona and Othello , the warrior in the highest meaning of the word, for whom honour is the fundament of his being , who knows how to love as a man and acts as a warmblooded Moor. She loves him „for the dangers he had pass’d (I. 3), while he lov’d her that she did pity them”. Mainly force and full matrimonial tenderness , esteem of each other and fidelity are the centre of the develop- ment of the intrigue which has been carried on with great skill and does not merit the different objections of critics who yet at all events are to acknowledge the wonderful way of treating the different characters (see Rumelin 66, Ulrici 360 [3 ed. II. 30], Kreyssig II. 267, W. Konig in the Annual X. 242; for a very comical expli- cation of 0. you may read Vischer „Aucli Einer u [I. 96]). A © t ft r l 1 o. C/-) ©ttjello ift babfenige ©tiicf, melcfieb bie ©nglanber feiner einfacfjen, befonberb flat motioierten Sionftruftion megett gerabe am b)6d^ften ftellen, obmol)! it)m nid)t K^ofme ©ruttb Mangel an tragifdjer $urc£)bilbung unb ®oflenbnng oorgetoorfen morben. „®ab £>erbe unb Sittere im Untergange beb menfdEjlicf) @d]bnen unb s- ©rofjen betiauptet b)ier ein entfdjiebeneb Ubergemidft ' iiber bab ©rlfebenbe unb 58erfof)nenbe, bab jugleicf) bent Sragifcfyen eigen fein foil" (Ulrici 360); eb ift meljr ein 'Wxgntriguem alb ein ©l;arafter=2rauerfpiel. ®ie Siebe • ' ber ipijantafie, unb nur in jmeiter Sinie bie beb f?et= jenb, oerbinbet Dtlfello, ben Srieger par excellence, fiir ben ©tyre bie ©runblage feineb @ein§ auSma^t, ber alb 9Kenfc^ ju lieben toeifj unb alb Ijeiftbliitiger SFcoljr fiiljlt unb Ifanbett — mil ®ebbemona , bie ifyn liebt, „»eil er ©efafpr beftanb (I. 3), ttmlirenb er fie liebt unt if)re§ Sliitleibb rnillen." — 9XanulicE)e ©tarle unb gillie ber et)elicf)en 3artlid)feit , 21d)tnng unb Xreue bilben ben SDJittelpunft ber ©ntmicflung unb ber fein unb fct»arf= finnig bury Swanston, immediately after the Restauration by Burt, Hart and Betterton; in the 18 th century by Booth (f 1732), Quin (f 1766), Barry (f 1777) and Garrick (1716 — 79), who also acted Jago. On the 26 th of February 1661 we find the Tragicomedy of the Moor of Venice on the court-theatre of Dresden. Thomas Rymer in „The Tragedies of the last Age, considered and examined, 1678 tried to show his countrymen the absurdities of Othello (s. Annual IV. 34). Lessing in the 15 th piece of his Dramaturgy (19 th of June 1767) speaks of it in few words in treating of Voltaire’s Zaire; 2 years after Ch. H. Schmid arranged it in his English Theatre ; with him the Moor is white (v. Genee 218 and Annual XII. 214), A second anonymous translation in the same year 1769 was followed by „The Handkerchief or the Moor of Venice*, b}^ Steffens (Francfort 1770). Wieland in the „Mercury” of 1773 published Cin- thio’s Novel and had the piece 3 times performed in Biberach in 1774; Ch. Jennens altered it in 1773* as 1775 „Othelio, governor of Cyprus* was given by Dcebbelin, as we are to presume, in the translation of Schmid, which had been edited in Kempten in the c Ctfjello. TRoro (bad Ijeifjt SRaure, nid)t SDJo£(r) namenlod ift unb iRoberigo unb Strabantio gar nidft borfommen, ^u ©f)afe= fpeare’d ©tiid fef)e man Xt). ©l^e (^afjrbucf) XIV. 168), ber nacf) Gambon Strotbit barauf aufnterffam macfjt, baff bie ©rjafflung fc£j on bei ©intffio fid) an bie Xf)a= ten bed Stene^ianer $atri§ierd ©riftoforo TRoro (anfangd bed 16. ^afjrfiunbertd) anfdfliefft, toafjrenb ©fiafefpeare mandferlei anbered aud feiner genauett ®enntnid italienifdfer guftanbe unb merfmurbiger SSe- gebenfjeiten feiner geit fdfopfte. ©egeben murbe Dtfjedo nod) bor bem Stiirger- friege bon ©to an ft on, gleid) ttad) ber Steftauration bon Sturt, fpart unb Stetterton; im 18. f 5 al)r= t)unbert bon ©ootf) (t 1832), Quin (f 1766), 93arrt) (f 1777) unb ©arrid, ber aud) ben ^ago gab. Situ 26. gebruar 1661 finben toir bie Tragi- comedy of the Moor of Venice am Xredbener f?oftf)eater. XI). Sterner in „The Tragedies of the last Age, considered and examined (1678) fudfte feinett Sanbdleuten a'tterfjanb Sllberntieiten im Otfjello nad)ju= toeifen (v. £$al)rbud) IV. 34). 2 e f f i n g Ijanbelt im 15. ©tiide ber Xrantaturgie (19. ^uni 1767) fnrj bon Otljetto bei feiner ©e= fpred)ung non 9So£taire'd Retire; jtoei 3af)re barauf bearbeitete ©f). $. ®d)mib bad Xrama in feittent ©nglifdjen iEfjeater unb madjte aud betn 9Rot)ren einen SBeifeen (v. ©enee 218 unb IgaljrBudj XII. 214). 2Cuf eine jroeite attongme Ubertragung in bemfelben :gal)re 1769 folgte „X>ad ©dfnubftud) ober ber 3Rol)r bon $ene* big" oon ©teffend (granffurt 1770). SSielanb teilte 1773 int TRerlur bie Stobette bon ©intlfio mit unb fiifyrte bad ©tiid breimal 1774 in Stiberad) auf ; ©1). $ e n n e n d an= berte ed 1773 fiir bie 58iif)ne; 1775 murbe „0tl)ello, ©tatt= ((alter in ©t)bern" bon Xobbelin, roa^rfd^einHcE) in ber injmifdjen 1775 in ®empten ncuebierten ©ctjmib’fdjen OTHELLO. same year; Schroeder in 1776 (26 th of October) brought it on the stage in Hamburg in his arrange- ment which modifies the tragical end; Fleck gave it in Berlin in 1788, after it had at large been spoken of by the Poor Man of Toggenburg in 1780 (see the Annual XII. 162). After Ducis had translated it into French (Paris l’an II, i. e. 1794) and L. Schubart had in 1802 published his prose translation of the piece which in 1804 was altered by John Kemble and 1806 was arranged in Vienna as a farce , Othello was performed on the 8 th of June 1805 on the the- atre of Weimar in the translation which H. Voss made caused by Schiller who modified it essentially [published in Jena 1806; see Annual XV. 223, Goedeke, Schillers Works XV. 2. 1876. 227, Genee 3Q1]; since 19. 4. 1827 it was always performed in Dresden in this form (see Annual XV. 208). 1817 Rossini wrote an opera „Otello” ; 1821 English actors in Paris were hissed when they gave Othello and Sheridan’s ^School of Scandal” (v. Borne V. 191). Few years later the same dramas were received with the greatest applause in the same town. 1824 Meyer in Gotha gave a dreadfully dis- figured text, 1832 appeared Ruhl , ^Outlines to Sh/s O.” (Francfort), 1834 a translation of Benda, performed at Karlsruhe, and 1841 West, O. arranged for the performance in Vienna. 1851 Silvers gave his essay „on the fundamental idea of O.” and „On O/s love” (Gotha), in 1853 an edition of the piece (Bruns- wick). 1855 we find an English edition by Taylor (London), 1858 Klanke, On the beauties of Sh/s O. (Landsberg) ; 1860 Spandau, O. criticized and inter- preted (Regensburg) , Jordan a translation of the n 0tfjefto. tiberfepung gegeben. 1776 bradjte il)n ©djroeber (26. Dftober) in feiner ben tragifd)en 2tu§gang ab- ■anbernben ©earbeitnng in Hamburg anf bie ©iipne; 1780 befprad) ifjn ber Slrme 9Jiann im Sbggenburg eingeljenb (ogl. iaprbud) XII. 162). gted bradjte ipn 1788 jur 2tnffuljrnng in Berlin. SKadjbem Sncie Othello ou le More de Yenise (Paris, l’an II) nnb S. ©cfjubart 1802 fetne $rofa-Ubertragung be£ 1804 oon iopn Kemble eingeridjteten @tiide§, ba§ 1806 aU ^JSoffe bearbeitet in SBien erfdjienen mar, beriffenttidjt £)atte, erfdfjien 1806 am 8. gniti Stbetto in ber anf ©d)iller’3 ©eranlaffmtg bnrd) £>. 3} of) gemad)ten nnb Don ©emitter oielfad) abgeanberten Uberfe|nng in SBeimar (ebiert 1806 iena; man fetje baritber iaprbnd) XV. 223, ©oebefe, ©emitter’* fdmtlicpe ©d^riften XV. 2. 1876. 227 ff. , ®enee 301); feit 19. 4. 1827 mnrbe biefetbe ftet§ in ®re§- ben gegeben. 1817 bradfjte 31 off ini feine Dper Otello ; 1821 madjten engtifcfje @d)aitfpieler mit ber ®ar- ftettnng be§ Dtpetto nnb ©f)eriban'§ School of Scandal in ^ari§ gia§lo (tnie ©orne V. 191 erjafjlt), mafjrenh menigeiapre fpdter biefe§ nnb attbere Sramen @£)afe- fpeare’§ mit groftem ©eifatt anfgenomnten ttmrben. 1824 herbffentlidjte SJIeper (©ot^a) feine (Sntftedung be§ ‘Xejte§; 1832 91uf)I: Outlines to Sh.’s Othello (grant- fnrt). 1834 mnrbe ba3 ©tiid, iiberfept non ©enba, in S’arternlje gegeben nnb 1841 non 333 e ft fur bie 2)ar^ ftettnng anf bem ©urgtfjeater ju SBien bearbeitet. 1851 itbburg1)aufen). D OTHELLO. drama. 1863 appeared Lueders, Contributions to the ] explanation of Sh/s 0. (Hamburg) and Heeler, On the Characters in 0. (New Swiss Museum III.) ; 1864 Flathe, Sh. in his reality (Leipsic, II. Othello); 1 0. Marbach, Othello the Moor of V. after Sh. (Leip- sic) and the facsimiled edition of 1622 by Aslibee (London 4"). In 1865 Giulio Carcano published his Italian j translation in Paris; Koester, Marginalia to Othello | and Macbeth (Annual I. 138); in 1866 Norden his ] 0. , told after the poet Sh. (Popular books , edited in Rosenheim); 1867 appeared BodenstedFs trans- j lation , on which P. Lindau made his remarks in his ^Indiscrete Notes on Literary objects” (Leipsic ] 1871. 279 &c.). Leon Pourpery published the drama in a French translation in 3 acts (Villeneuve) ; j Hinton in 1869 as it was produced by Edwin Booth (New- York), Aitken, arranged it for the London drama- tic company (London) ; Hunter gave an edition of j the text (London) and 0. Buchwald, Medea and Othello (in the Propylaen I. 40 — 43). Also Masing (in Vir- chow’s and Holzendorfs Publications 162) treats of Othello in „The Tragical guilt”. After the new French Translation by de Chatelain in 1871 we find the 1 curious Hebrew translation of 0. by J. E. S. (Sal- j kinson) , edited by Peter Smolensky (Vienna); 1872 Meissner spoke about it in the Annual VII. 115. 1875 appeared 0., a tragedy with the Italian version, as per- formed by Signor Salvini at Drury Lane (London) ; Elliot ; Browne, 0. and Sampiero (in the Athenaeum II. 371); j Koenig’s Essay (in the Annual X. 242) and Snider’s ! in the Academy, October 30); 1876 the copy of the j drama in Italian with the French text on the opposite page, as performed by Ernesto Rossi. Then came 0. as presented by Booth, published by Winter , E OtfyeUo. 1863 erfdjienen Sii b er §, Seitrage jur Srflarnng Don ©l). r 3 0. (Hamburg) unb § e b 1 e r, fiber bte Kijaraftere in ©lj/8 0. (9?eue3 ©djtoeijer. 2Jhfieum III.) ; 1864 5 1 a t £) e / ©t). in feiner SSirfli.cfyfeit (Seipjig ; II. Othello), 0. Ska r bad), 0tf)ello ber Skofjr non Senebig, nad) @1). (Seipjig) nnb bie faCfirrtilierte 2tn£gabe Don 1622 bnrd) SI f £) b e e (Sonbon, 4”). 1865 oeroffenttidjte ©inlio Karcano feine italienifc^e fibertragnng in )£ari£; £). Soefter SJiarginalien jum 0tt)eflo nnb ■Jftacbetf) Oaijrbnd) I. 138); 1866 s Jiorben feinen Otfjello, bem ®id)ter ©f}afe)peare nadjer^abjt (9iojem fyeinter Solf^bndj)); 1867 font 33 o b e n ft e b l!berfe|nng (toojn man Sinban, Siterarifdje ^udfi(f)t§lofigfeiten, Seipfig 1871. 279 ff. oergleidjen moge); ferner „Othello, drame en 3 actes, par Leon Pourpery (Yilleneuve); 1869: 0. as produced by E. Booth, by H. Hinton (New -York); 0. arranged for the London dramatic Company by W. Ait ken (London, 4 U ); eine s 2tu§gabe Don punter (Sonbon) nnb 0. 33 ud) to alb, Skebea nnb 0tf)etto Opropplaen I. 40—43). Son 0tt)etlo i)a nbelt and) Skafing, ®ie Xragijdje ©d)ulb (in Sirdjotn^ SSortrdgen, 162). SJad) ber franjbfifdjen fibertragnng bnrd) be ©fjatetain 1871 erfdjien 1874 ba§ Snriofnm : Othello translated into Hebrew , by J. E. S. (Salkinson) ed. by Peter Smolensky (Wien); 1872 eine 33efpred)nng Don Sk e i fe n e r iin 3af)rbud) VII. 115; 1875 Othello, a tragedy with the Italian version as performed by Signor Salvini at Drury Lane (Lon- don); gftiot Sr o tone, 0tt)ello nnb ©ampiero ( s M)e= naeum II. 371); oergi audj Sbnig'3 33efpred)ung be3 ®rama§ in feinem Stuffa^e (^afrbnd) X. 242); ©niber in ber Academy, 0ftober 9to. 30; 1876 0., tragedie , traduite par Carcano , avec le fran£ais en regard (Paris) nad) 6 . 9t o f f 43 ®arftetlung. S3 folgten: 0 . as presented by Booth ed. W inter (New- OTHELLO. (New -York), J. Goldschmidt in his Dramaturgical Notices (18/8) „On Othello“; an edition by Sievers- (18/9) and another by Rolfe (New -York), Th. Elze „On different points in Othello which are not true \ r enetian“ (Annual 1879); Bulthaupt , Essays on the dramatic and critical department (Bremen 1879),. Zaire et Othello by P. Okmilly (in the Revue bordelaise 16. 2. and 1. 4. 1880) and Hano , Some hints about Sh ’s 0. in Kolbing’s Review IY. 1, with which may be compared some Essays in Herrig’s Archiv V. 225: on 0. and Lear; IX. 76, X. 113 on the Character of 0.; 0. and Gutierre (XXV. 432, XXVI. 188) and XXVI. 1 — 24 „A Comparison of 0. and The Physician of his honor, by Calderon w . In 1883 Mac-Pherson edited his Spanish translation (Madrid). On the 21 st of July 1883 Charles Barrington ap- peared as Othello in Kilburn Town Hall ; about 30 years ago the part was one of the favorite per- formances of Phelps and of the black actor Ira Aldridge. In Berlin , where it was given for the hun- dredth time on the 17 th December 1883 on the Court Theatre, and with Barnay on the 7 th in the German Theatre, in Dresden and Karlsruhe they per- form the drama in the translation of Voss, in the latter court theatre in the arrangement of Ed. Devrient, in Munich and Vienna arranged by West, in Weimar after Dingelstedt. Brandenburg, January 1884. Prof. Dr. Karl Sachs. V Dtfjelto. York 1878); ©olbfcljmibt in ben ©rantaturg.. Botigen (1878) „iiber bie 91u§gabe non 6. 9B. 8ieoer3; eine anbere non 91 0 1 f e (9Iem4?)orf 1879); ©1). ($ 1 g e , Unoenetianifd)e§ int 0tl)ello (;gal}rbucf> 1879); Bultljaupt in „©treifgitge auf bramatifdjem unb fritifdfem ®ebiete" (Bremen 1879); Zaire et Othello par P. Ormilly in ber Revue bordelaise 16. 2. unb 1. 4. 1880 unb (pano, Some hints about Sh.’s 0. in ®olbing§ Beitfdjrift IV. 1 , moneben nocf; gu Oer- g(eid)en finb bie Slrtifel in £>errig’3 91rcf)io V. 225: itber 0. unb Sear, IX. 76. X. 118 gur ©Ijarafteriftil 0.’§ ; 0. unb ©utierre (XXV. 482, XXVI. 188) unb XXVI. 1 — 24: SSergIeicf»uttg 0tl)ello’3 mit bem 91rgt feiner 61) re oon Salberoit. 1883 er(d)iett bie Uber= tragung 0t^etlo’§ burcf) @uill. !JRacpf)erfon ($0tabrib). 91m 21. ^uli 1883 trat Sf)arle§ Barrington a (3 CtbeUo in Kilburn Town Hall auf; in ben fitnfgiger ^alfren mar bie§ eine £)auptroHe be§ fdfmar- gen ©cfjaufpielerS !yra 9llbribge. 3ft Berlin, mo e§ am 17. ©egember 1883 gum tjunbertften SDtale im Sdjaufpielffaufe unb am 7. mit Barnat) im ©eutfdien ©tjeater bargeftellt iuurbe, unb in $ r e § b e n mirb ba§- ©rarna in ber Boffifdjeu Bearbeitung, in Sarl§ = ru()e ttacf) berfelben (oon @b. ©eorient gurecfjt ge- mac£)t) gegeben , in SO? ii n d) e n unb 923 i e tt nad) 9Beft, in 923 e i m a r nad) ©ingelftebt. & r a 11 i) t n t u r 3 , im Qanuar 1884. SProf. Dr. ^arf J?ad?s. F OTHELLO THE MOOR OF VENICE. BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. bex ^Toln* von l^medig. llberfe^t t>on X tt). non Sd)lc0cl. DRAMATIS PERSONS DTJKE OF VENICE. BRABANTIO, a senator. Other Senators. GrATIANO, brother to BRABANTIO. LODOVICO, kinsman to BRABANTIO. OTHELLO, a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state. CaSSIO, his lieutenant. IaGO, his ancient. RODERIGO, a Venetian gentleman. MONTANO, Othello’s predecessor in the government of CYPRUS. Clown, servant to OTHELLO. DESDEMONA, daugther to BRABANTIO and wife to OTHELLO. ' Emilia, wife tolAGO. Blanca, mistress to cassio. Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and Attendants &c. SCENE — The first act in VENICE ; during the rest of the play, at a seaport in CYPRUS. perfotten: §erjog bon SScnebig. SBrabantio, (Senator, aftetjrere ©enatorett ©r at ia no, \ g5 erroart |jt c SBraBantio. £ o b o b i c o , j Dttjetlo, $elbljen;; 9)lofjv. (Saffio, feirt £ieutenant. Sago, fein gdfjnbctdj. JRobrigo, ein junger SSeitetianer. 50lontano, ©tattfialter bon ©bbern. Sftarr, SDiener be3 Dtfjello. £er o lb. 2>e§bemona, 93rabantio§ £od)ter. (Sntilia, S^go§ $rau. Bianca , ©onrtiiane. ONatrofen, SBoten, §erolb, Offijiere, ©belleute, SRufiftmteit, ®efolge u. f. id. ©Sene im evften Slufsug in SBenebig; fjernadj in Stybern. 1 * 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 Act I. Scene I. Venice. A Street . Enter Rodekigo and Iago. ^That T thin a rZ er ‘"l! T ; ' , take jt much unkindly inat th°u, Iago, who hast had my purse Y V s 'Ui 6 f r , mgs were thine > shouldst know of this Iago ’Sblood but you will not hear me :- ’ ~ If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me. ’ Rod Thou told’st me thou didst hold him in thy hate /^. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the Off V rT™’T\ *° make me his lieutenant, Off-capp d to him : — and, by the faith of man I know my price, I’m worth no worse a place • But he as loving his own pride and purposes Evades them, with a bombast circumstance ’ Horribly stuff’d with epithets of war- And, in conclusion, ?/° W S ; lly T di f 0rs; for ’ 'Ceries,” says he, 1 have already chose my officer ” And what was he? Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damn’d in a fair wife* That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric Wherein the toged consuls can propose ^ S oii a ? erly ir he J mere P rattle > Without practice And ll T hls f s °l dle rship. But he, sir, had the election: a? pf~i f h °^ hlS eyes had seen the proof At Bn odes, at Cyprus and on other grounds Christian and heathen — must be he-lee’d and calm’d By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster- 1 He, m good time, must his lieutenant he, ’ , God bl 5 ss the mark! — his Moorship’s ancient Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman 5 ©rfter 3tuf$ug. Grjlc £)Cttc. $enebig. (Sine 0trafce. treten anf Oiobtigo uttb S^Q 0 - 9ft ob. 0ag r mir nur nid)t§, benn bamit frantft bu mid) — * 10 ®af}, Qago, bu, ber meiite 33brfe finite, mar 7 fie bein — bie 0ad)e fd)oit gemufft. Sago. 3$r prt fa nid)t! — £mb 7 id) mir je baoon 7 ma§ traumen taffen, $erabfdjeut mid)! 15 9iob. $)u t)aft mir ftet£ gefagt, bu t)affeft tfjn! Sago. $erad)te mid), menu 3 nid)t fo iff. S)rei 9Jidd)tige au§ biefer 0tabt, perfonlid) 25emuf)t, p feinem £icutenant mic^ p ntad)eit, §mfierten it)m — uub auf 0oIbatenmort, 20 Sd) fenne meiueu ^rei§ — ba§ fommt mir p. SDod) er, Oertiebt iu feinen 0t ot$ uub S)iintet, 2Beid)t i!)neu au§, mit 0d)mulft, meit bergeljolt, 3)en er ftaffiert mit graufen ^rieg^fenten^en, Hub fur$ uub gut, 25 0d)lcigt r 3 meiueu (SJoitnern ab ! benn : „£raun" — fo fprid)t er— „(Srnannt fd)ou f)ab 7 id) nteineu Officer". Uub mer ift biefer? @et)t mir! eiit gar au§bitnb r ger 9ied)enmeifter, (Silt 9)iid)ael (Saffio, eiu gtorentiner, 30 (Silt 28id)t, pm fdimitdeu 2$etbe faft Oerfiinbigt, *3)er niemalS eiue 0d)ar in§ $etb gefiiprt, 9cod) non ber §eere§orbmtng met)r’oerftet)t s 2lt§ Siingferc^eu ; nur 23ud)'ertt)eorte, $on ber in feiner £oga motjt ein 9xat*f)err 35 0o metetid) fprid)t at§ er — att feine ftriegsfunft ®efd)mab, uid)t $ra£i§ — ber nun mirb ermatjlt; Unb id), non bent fein 2(itge ^roben fat) § u 3?t)obu§, (Sl)bern unb auf auberm ^obeit, f)riftlid) unb tfeibnifd), fomm' um 3®inb unb glut ,40 ^)urd) fotdjen 9led)enfned)t, fold) (Sinmalein3; S)er, motjt befomm 7 3 itjm, ntufj fein lieutenant fein, Unb id), ($ott beffer 7 §! feiner ^?cot)rfcf)aft Sabnbrid). Otob. 93ei ©ott! fein Renter miirb 7 id) tieber fein! — 3 OTHELLO. Ia go. Why, there’s no remedy; ’tis the curse of service Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself 5 Whether I in any just term am affin’d To love the Moor. R °d- I would not follow him then. Iago . 0, sir, content you; I follow him to serve my turn upon him: 10 We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow’d. You shall mark Many a duteous and lmee-crooking knave, That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his master’s ass, 15 For nought but provender; and, when he’s old, cashier’d Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are Who, trimm’d in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, 20 Do well thrive by them, and, when they’ve lin’d their coats. Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul*' And such a one do I profess mvself. For, sir, It is as sure as you are Boderigo, 25 Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end: For when my outward action doth demonstrate 30 The native act and figure of my heart In compliment extern, ’tis not long after But 1 will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, 35 If he can carry’t thus! dago. Call up her father, Bouse him: make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 10 Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such changes of vexation on’t, As it may lose some colour. Rod, Here is her father’s house; I’ll call aloud. 4 DtfjcKo. 3 ci go. £)a tjitft nid)t§ fur: ba§ ift bet* 3tud) be§ ®ienfte§. SBefbrb’rmtg getjt end) nad) ©ntbfeljl urtb ©unft, 9?id)t nad) etjmargent 9iang, tuo jeber gtneite ®en be§ SBormanuS erbt. Urteilt nun felbft, 5 06 mid) tooljt irgenb 91ed)t unb 2)anf berbftidjtet, 3u tieben biefen ’9J£of)ren. 9ft ob. ©o bienf id) ifjm aud) nidjt. Qa go. O, feib ganj rujjig. Qd) bien' itjm, um mir’3 ein&ubringen; ei! roirfomten 10 9ftid)t ade §errn fein, nidjt faun jeber fperr ©etreue Wiener tjaben. ©etjt iijr bod) ©o mand)en bftidjt'gen, fniegebeugteu ©d)uft, 3)er, gan§ toerliebt in feme ©UaOenfeffet, yHutyawt, red)t true ber ©fet feine§ £>ernt, 15 Um§ §eu, unb loirb ini fitter fortgejagt. — $eitfdjt mir folcf) rebtid) 9Solf ! — 3) arm giebt e$ 9tnb’re, $)ie, au§ftaf fieri mit 93Iid unb gornt ber 2)emut, ©in £>er$ beroatjren, ba§ nut fid) bebenft, $)ie nur ©djeinbienfte fiefern tfjren Obern, 20 3)urd) fie gebeitj'n nub, ioann il)r $et^ gefiittert, ©id) fetbft' ©ebieter finb. £>ie 93urfd)cn tjaben W\$, Unb biefer Qunft ^u folgen, ift mein ©tot§ ; ®enn, fjreunb, 3 r ift fo geioifi, al§ ifjr 9ftobrjgo tjeifjt, 25 9Mr’ id) ber 93ftofjr, nid)t mod)f id) 3 a go fein. 3Senn id) il)iu bicne, bien ? id) nur mir fetbft! &er §immet toeift e§! nidjt au§ £ieb* unb s $ftid)t, 9?ein, nur pm ©djein fitr meinen eignen Qmecf. £)enn menu mein ciuj^reS Xtpun je offmbart 30 $)e§ ^exjenS angeborn’e %t unb Sfteiguug 3n £>attung unb ©eberbe, .bann.atSbatb 2BiCt id) mein 0er§ an meinem linnet tragen graft fdr featj'n. — 3ct) bin nicf)t. iua§ icf) bin! 9ft o b. 9Seld) r reid)e§ ©tiicf fattt bem 3)i|mdut r gen &u, 35 9$enn itjm ber ©treidj gelingt! 3 ago. 1 9ftuft auf ben SBatcr, $e£t ben itjm nad); oergiftet feme Suft ; ©djreit r § bnrd) bie ©tabt; mad)t ifjre SSettern ioiib; Unb ob er nnter m'itbem .fjintmet tootjnt, 40 93tagt it)n mit gtiegen; ift bie greub’ itjm greube, SSerfeftt fie bennod)it)tn mit fooiel ^ein, $)aft fie etnm§ erbteidje. 91 ob. .§>ier ift be§ SBaterd .&au§; idj ruf ifjn taut. o 4 OTHELLO. Iago. Do, witli like timorous accent and dire yell As when, by night and negligence, the tire Is spied in populous cities. Rod. What, ho, Brahantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! 5 Iago. Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves ! Look to your house, your daughter and your bags! Thieves! thieves! 10 Brabantio appears above , at a window. Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? Rod. Signior, is all your family within? Iago. Are your doors lock’d? 15 Bra. Why, wherefore ask you this? Iago. ’Zounds, sir, you’re robb’d; for shame, put on your gown ; v Your heart is hurst, you have lost half your soul; Even now, now, very now, an old black ram 20 Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise; Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you: Arise, I say. Bra. What, have you lost your wits? 25 Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? Bra. Not I: what are you? Rod. My name is Roderigo. Bra. The worser welcome: I’ve charg’d thee not to haunt about my doors: 30 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. 35 Rod. Sir, sir, sir, — Bra. But thou must needs he sure My spirit and my place have in them power To make this bitter to thee. Rod. Patience, good sir. 40 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. DtfjeHo. 3 a go. ^a§ tfju t, mit gteidjent 9lngftruf unb $ebeul, s 2lt§ menu bei 9kd)t unb fiftffigteit etn ^euer (Srfacibt toirb in Dolfreidjen ©tdbten. 9?ob. £)ado, 93rabantio! ©ignor 93rabantio, ! ! — 5 Qag. Cmoad)t; ^ado! 93rabantio! SDtebe ! ®iebel $>iebe! 9M)tnt euer £>att§ in 9(d)t, eu'r $inb, eu’r ®elb! §e, SDiebe ! ®iebe ! — jq SBrafcaittio often am ftcnfter. 93rab. 5Ba§ ift bie Urfad)’ biefe§ milbcn &ctrm§? 98a§ giebt eS §ier ? — 9^ o b. 3f* af(e§, ma§ eudj ange^ort, im £mufe? 3a go. 5)ie STbuven &u? 15 93rab. 9hnt, marum fragt itjr ba3? — Qago. 3b r feib beraubt,' pm Xeufel! 9M)int ben 9Jiaittel ! (£u r r £>er§ jerbradj, ^alb eure Seed ift bin. 3e|t, ebeu jettf, bepingt ein alter fd)tnar^er 20 ©djafbod eit 7 r toeifjeS £cunmd)en. — 9tuf! ^erait^ 1 98edt bie fd)Iaftrunfnen 93itrger mit ber ©lode, ©onft mad)t ber Xeufel end) pm ®rof 3 paba. 9luf, fag 7 id), auf! — 93rab. 2Ba§! feib d)r bei 93erftanb ? 25 9?ob. (SbvnriirMger £>err, fennt ib)r mid) an ber ©timrne? 93rab. 3d) nid)t! 3Ser bift bu? 91 ob. SRobrigc beifj' id). SBrab. 9ftir urn fo berbafjter! 93efoblen bob' id) Mr, mein £mu§ p meiben; 30 <#an$ unocrbobten b^rteft bu mid) fagcn, 9ft ein finb fei nid)t fiir bid) — unb* nun, mie rafenb, 2Som 9ftat)ie bolt unb, tborenbem ©etrciuf, 3n bb§tid) trotVgem iibermute fcntmft bit, ^ 9ft id) in ber 9htl) 7 p ftbren? 35 91 o b. §err, .sjerr, ©err! 93 r a b. *3)o d), miffen follft bit bie§: 3)urd) meine £raft unb ©tedung bob 7 id) 9ftod)t, 3)ir 7 3 p oergddeu. 9iob. 9iubig f toerter ©err ! 40 93rab. 98a§ fbrid)ft bu tttir turn 9faub ? $ie§ ift 93encbiq, 9ftein ^ataft feiue ©d)eune. 91 ob. ©ebr mitrMger £)err 3n arglo* reiner 9lbfid)t fomm 7 id) ber. OTHELLO. Iago. ’Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians, you’ll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you’ll have your 5 nephews neigh to you; you'll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans. Bra . What profane wretch art thou? Iago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two 10 backs. Bra. Thou art a villain. Iago. You are — a senator. Bra. This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo. Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you, 15 Ifit be your pleasure and most wise consent, As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter, At this odd-even and dull watch o’ the night Transported, with no worse nor better guard But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, 20 To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor, — If this be known to you and your allowance, We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; But if you know not this, my manners tell me We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe 25 That, from the sense of all civility, I thus would play and trifle with your reverence : Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, I say again, hath made a gross revolt ; Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes, 30 In an extravagant and wheeling stranger Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself If she be in her chamber or your house, Let loose on me the justice of the state For thus deluding you. 35 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! [Exit above. 40 Iago. Farewell; for I must leave you: It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, To be produced — as, if I stay, I shall — Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state, Otljcfto. 3 ago. ^Better, $err, ibr feib einer non benen, bie®ott nid)t blenen pollen, toenn’§ ibnen ber Xeufel befieblt. 2Bemt loir fontmen, end) einen S)ienft ftit tf)un unb ibr benft, toir finb Sfkufbotbe, toollt ib)r etnen 23erberf)engft iiber eure £od)ter 5 fontmen laffen, toollt it)x (£nfel, bie end) antoiebern, toollt 9tennbferbe SBettern unb getter &u Steffen ^aben. — 23rab. 28er bift bit, freezer Sdft’rer? g a ego. Qd) bin etner, §err, ber end) ju tnelben fomntt, baf) enre Sodjter unb ber 9D?obr jefct babei finb, ba§ ^ier mit 10 jtoei Dtitcfen p mad)en. 23rab. 3)u bift ein ©djurfe! 3 ago. 3b* feib — ein (Senator. 23rab. $>u foUft bie§ bitten; id) fen ne bid), 2?obrigo. fRob. 34 tnitt fitr alle3 einfteb’n; bod) id) bitt’ end), 15 3ft r ^ euer 2Bunfd) unb tooblbebcid)t’ge 2Bei§f)eit (28ie’3 faft ntir fdjeint), baft eure f cl) one £od)ter 3n biefer f(pdten ©titnbe bumJpfer 9tad)t 2Birb auSgeliefert — beffer nid)t nocb fcb)ted)ter 23 e to ad) t, al§ burd) ’nen feinen ©onbolier — 20 ^)en rot)en Stiffen eitte§ iipp’gen 9ftobren? 2Sentt if)r ba§ toifd unb einOerftanben feib, @o t^aten loir eud) groben, fredjen ©djintpf. £)od) toif)t ifjr^ nid)t, bann fagt mir ©itt’ unb ?lnftanb, 3br fd)eltet un§ mit ilnred)t. dimmer glaubt, 25 $)afj, atlem ©inn fitr §oflid)feit entfreuioet, 34 fo ^nnt ©d)er$ mit eurer 28iirbe fbielte. du’r $inb, toenn ibr itjm nid)t ©rlaubniS gabt — 3d) fag’§ nod) eimnal — t)at fid) fd)toer Oevgangen, ©o ©d)bnt)eit, ®eift, teratogen au^guliefern ' 30 ^ent t)einiatlo§ nnfteten 2lbenteurer 23o n bier unb itberad. ©leid) itber^eugt eud), §err; 3ft fie int ©d)lafgemad), fa nnr ^u £>aufe, Safd auf mid) lo3 ber fRepublif ©efette, 2Beit icf) end) fo betrog. &5 23rab. ©djlagt geuer! bo! ©ebt mir ’ne ^er^e! 2Sedt all’ nteiite Sente! 2) er forfait fiebt niebt ungleid) meinent Xraitnt: 3) er ©laube b’ran brobt fd)on mid) oerniebteu. Sicbt fag’ id), Sid)t! — • [©efjt ab 40 3 <* 9 Sebt toobl ! id) muff eud) laffen. & fdjeint nid)t gut, nod) beilfcmt meiner ©telle, ©tellt man al£ geugen mid) — unb bleib’ id), fo gefd)iebt’§ — $)em ^Robren nor;* benn unfer ©taat, id) toeifc* e§, OTHELLO, However this may gall him with some check, Cannot with safety cast him, for he’s embark’d With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls, 5 Another of his fathom they have none, To lead their business: in which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains, Yet, for necessity of present life, I must show out a flag and sign of love, 10 Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely And him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search ; And there will I be with him. So, farewell. [Exit. Enter , below , Bbabantio, and Servants with torches. 15 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? — 0 unhappy girl! — AVith the Moor, say’st thou? — Who would be a father! 20 How didst thou know ’twas she? — 0, she deceives 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. [blood! — 25 Bra. 0 heaven! — How got she out! — 0 treason of the Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters’ minds By what you see them act. — Is there not charms By which the property of youth and maidhood May he abus’d? Have you not read, Roderigo, 30 Of some such thing? Rod. Yes, sir, I have indeed. Bra. Call up my brother. — 0, would you had had her! Some one way, some another. — Ho you know Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? 35 Rod. I think I can discover him, if you please To get good guard and go along with me. Bra. Pray you, lead on. At every house I’ll call; I may command at most. — Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night. 40 On, good Roderigo: I’ll deserve your pains. [Exeunt. 7 DlTjeffo. 9®enn ibn bie§ gleid) etum§ Oerbunfeln totrb, ®ann ibn nid)t fallen laffen; bettn e§ forbert <3o triffger ©runb ibn fur ben (ft)bernfrieg, $)er je£t beOorftebt, baft urn feinen s $rei§ 5 ©in tob'xcr Oon ber gabigfeit fid) fdnbe S 2U§ gul)ier btefe§ gug§ ; in melcber 9ftiicffid)t, Cb gleid) id) ibn mie ^oflenqualen ftaffe, 3Seit mid) bte gegenmcirt’ge Sage gmingt, 3 d) auftieb’n lititft ber Siebe gdagg’ unb geicben, 10 Jyreitid) at§ geicben nur. 3)af} iftr i bn ficfter finbet, fyitftrt jette @ud)enben $um @d)ut^en bin: 2 >ort merb* id) bei ibm jein. Unb fo lebtmobl! [Sago gd)t af». SBraOaittio tritt aitf mi t $)ienertt intb f^acfetn. 15 55rab. gu ma!)r nnr ift bie§ Unglue! ! @ie ift fort, Unb ma§ mir nad)bteibt oom oerbafjten Seben, 3 ft nid)t§ al§ 35itterfeit. — 9cun fag’, Oftobrigo, 9So ftaft bu fie gefeb'n? — £), jtbaric£)t ®inb! — 3)er 90ftobr, fagft bu? — dBer modjte Skater feiu? — 20 3Sie tueiftt bu/bafj fie r § mar? — £), unerijort 93etriigt fie mid)! 9&a§ fbrad) fie? — .ftott nod) gacfeln! 3ftuft atte meine ^Settern ! — 6 inb fie mob! 35ermdb!t, ma§ gtaubft bu? 9ft ob. 9ftun, id) gtaube, fa. 25 93rab. £) ©ott! 98ie fant fie fort? £) $BIut$Oerrat ! Xraut, belter, ftirtfort euren 5tbd)tern nie 9ftad) au|erdid)em £b u n ♦ ©iebt’3 feinen gauber, S)er 3 u Qcnb ltnfd)u!b unb be§ 9Jftdbd)entum§ gu tboren? Saft it ) r nie oon fotdien Bingen, 30 9ftobrigo? 3ft ob. 1 3 a, ©ignor, id) ta§ e§ mob!. 35 r a b. 9 ftuft meinen Gruber. — 9Bdr 7 fie euer bod) ! — 3 br b^r, bie 3!nbern bortbin! — §abt ibr ®unbfd)aft, 9Bo mir fie finben mogen mit bem 9Jftobren? 35 9ft ob. 3d) boff r ibn au^ufbab'n, menn r § end) gefaftt, 9Jftit tixd)tiger 35ebedung mir 511 fotgen. 93 rab. 28ot)t, fub rt ben g u 9 - $or jebetn fmufe ruf id); 2 Benn’§ gilt, fann id) befeftlen. 28affen bet! Unb bolt ein $aar |mubtleute oon ber S5ad)e; 40 95oran, 9ftobrigo! eure 9Jftitb r Oergelf id). [a|f er fo!d)e§ Qeug Unb fbrad) fo fdjnob* unb gegen enre (£bre ©0 lafterlid), ®afj all mein bi§d)en grotnmigfeit mid) fannt Qnt giigel b)ielt. 3)od) fagt ntir, roerter §err, ©eib ifjr and) red)t bermdt)lt? £)enn glanbt mix nur, ©ar feijr beliebt ift ber Sftagnifico, * ■ Unb bat bitrd)pfeben frdffge ©timme, $ 8 oltnnd)tig tone ber giirft. (Sr rnirb end) fc^eiben, Qinn minb’ften ^ciuft er £>emmnng nnb Serbrufi, SSie nnr ba§ 9?ec^t, bnrd) feine flfeadbt qefcbdrft, ©^Mrautn „giebt. DU). @r mag fein 2 lrgfte§ tt)!m ; 3)er 3)ienft, ben id) geleiftet bem ©enat, ©d)reit feine Mage nieber. Innb foil toerben — 28a§, toenn mir lunb, baft ^ral)ten (Sbre brinqt Sd) offenbaren tnid — baft id) entfprofe !bniglid)ent ©tantm, nnb mein ©eftlrn 3)arf ofjne ©d)eu fo fio^eS ©liid anfrredjen, bie§, ba§ id) erreid)t. &enn miffe, Sago, Siebt’ id) bie ftolbe 3)e§bentona nid)t, 9?ie Jtoanfl’ id) nteinen forgtoS freien ©tanb 23nnb’ unb @d)ranfen ein, nidjt um bie ©djafee $er tiefen See. $od) fietj! 3BoS bort fiir Sidjter? a f f i 0 tomntt mit ©efotge. 3ago. $>er jorn’ge SBater ift e8 mit ben greunben — ©et)t bod) ^inein ! , Sd) nid)t! man foil mid) finben. iltetn ©tcmbunb Kang unb meine fefte ©eete Sant foil 'n fie fiir mid) geugen! — ©inb e3 iene? Sago. S3et 3ann§, nein ! 0t b- $er$og§ Wiener finb e§ nnb mein Sientenanf. OTHELLO. The goodness of the night upon you, friends! What is the news? Cas. The duke does greet you, general; And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, 5 Even on the instant. Oth. What is the matter, think you? Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine: It is a business of some heat: the galleys Have sent a dozen sequent messengers 10 This very night at one another’s heels, And many of the consuls, rais’d and met, Are at the duke’s already: you have been hotly call’d for; When, being not at your lodging to be found, The senate hath sent about three several quests 15 To search you out. Oth. ’Tis well I am found by you. I will but spend a word here in the house, And go with you. [Exit, Cas. Ancient, what makes he here? 20 Iago. ’Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack: If it prove lawful prize, he’s made for ever. Cas, I do not understand. Iago . He’s married. Cas. To who ? 25 Re-enter Othello. Iago. Marry, to — Come, captain, will you go? Oth. Have with you. Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you. 30 Iago. It is Brabantio. General, be advis’d; He comes to bad intent. Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Ofiicers with torches and weapons. Oth. Holla! stand there! 35 Rod. Signior, it is the Moor. Bra. Down with him. thief! [They draw o?i both sides. Iago. You, Roderigo! come sir, I am for you. [them, Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust 40 Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons. Bra. 0 thou foul thief, where hast thou stow’d my daughter? Damn’d as thou art, thou hast enchanted her; 9 Ottjello. @ei eud) bie fftadft gebeitftdj, nietrte greunbe! 28a§ giebf§? — ©af. i)er ^fer^oq eud), (General, llnb forbert, oa| tfjr fdjnell, bli|fd)netl erfefyeint 5 3m ?tugenoticf. £)tt). 3Ba$, meint itjr, ift int SSerl? — (Saf. (Stum§ au§ (St)bern, menu id) recf)t tier mute; ; § ift ein ©efdjdft turn beijjer ©U’: bie gtotte SSerfdjicff ein Smbenb 23oten nad) einanber, 10 9cod) biefen 2lbenb, bie gebrangt fief) fotgten, SSiel .Sperrn tiom Dial, gemeeft itnb fd)on oerfammelt, 0inb jebt beim §er$og; eifrig fud)t man end), Hub ba "man eud) Perfect in eurer 2$otjnung, £>at ber @enat brei §aitfen au^gefanbt, 15 (Sud) §u erfbdl)’n. Ott). ift gut, baf] itjr mid) fanbet. (Sin 3Sort nur taff id) I)ier guritef tm £>aufe Itnb folg' end) nad). [©etjt ab. (Saf. * $df)nbrtd), ma§ fd^afft er §ier ? — 20 3 a 9°- $un, etne &anbgateere nabnt er f>e uf ; (Sr mad)t fein ©titd, memt'3 gute Strife mirb. (Saf. 9®ie meint itfr ba§? 3 ago. (Sr ift bermatjlt. (Saf. fftit mem? — 25 Otbctlo fontnit gimici 3 ago. (Si nun, mit ®ommt it)r, mein (General? — £>tf). 3d) bin bereit. (Saf. .frier nat)t ein anb'rer Xrubb, eud) auf^ufudjen. 30 3 ago* (S3 ift 23rabantio — fafjt eud), (General! — (Sr ftnnt auf $ofe3! 33rabantio, Sfiobtigo unb SBetoaffitete U'etert auf. Dtl). frotta! 6teltt eud) t)ier! — 35 ftob. @ignor, e3 ift ber 9[ftot)t! SBrab. ' ®ieb ! Odjlagt itfn nieber. [$8ort beiben (Seitcrt Herbert bie (Sdjwerter ge^ogen. 3 ago. 3£obrigo, it)r? ®ommt, frerr! 3$ fiin fiir eud). 0t1). 3)ie btanfen (Sdjmerter fort! (Bie modjten roften. — 40 $)a§ fitter tjitft eud) beffer, guter .frerr, 2113 euer S)egen. 23rab. £) fdjnober 3)ieb! 28a3 marb au3 meiner £od)ter? ®u tjaft, oerbatnmter grenler, fie be^aubert; 2 OTHELLO. For I'll refer me to ail things of sense, If she in chains of magic were not bound, Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy, So opposite to marriage that she shunn’d 5 The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, to incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight. Judge me the world, if ’tis not gross in sense 10 That thou hast practis’d on her with foul charms, Abus’d her delicate youth with drugs or minerals That weaken motion: — I’ll have ’t disputed on; ’Tis probable and palpable to thinking. I therefore apprehend and do attach thee 15 For an abuser of the world, a practiser Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. Lay hold upon him: if he do resist, Subdue him at his peril. Oth . Hold your hands, 20 Both you of my inclining, and the rest : Were it my cue to fight, 1 should have known it Without a prompter. Where will you that I go To 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, 30 Upon some present business of the state To bring me to him? First Off. ’Tis true, most worthy signior; The duke’s in council, and your noble self, I’m sure, is sent for. 35 Bra . How! the duke in council! In this time of the night! — Bring him away: Mine’s not an idle cause: the duke himselt, Or any of my brothers of the state, Cannot but feel this wrong as ’twere their own* 40 For if such actions may have passage free, Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be, [Exeunt 10 Dttyclfo. ®enn ade§, ma§ SSernunft ftegt, mli id) frageit, SSemt nid)t eitt ntagifcft S3anb fie ftatt gefangeu, Ob eine 3unqfrau/jart unb fd)bn nub* glitcflid), @o abftolb ber SSerntaftlung, baft fie ffoft 5 S)en reicften SimglingSabel unfrer ©tabt, 06 fie, ein adgemeiit ©efpbtt ju merben, ©au§Iicftent ©litd entfloft an folcfteS Unftotb§ $ecftfd)mar§e 33ruft, bie ©rau'n, nicftt £uft erregt? 4)ie Sftfett foil rieftten, ob'3 nid)t fonnenftar, 10 $>aft bit niit ©bdenhmft auf fie gewirft, s DUt ©ift unb Xranf oedodt iftr $arte§ filter, 2)en ©inn §u fdjmacften: — unterfueften fod man r §; ®enn gtaubftaft ift% ftanbgreiftid) bent ®ebanfen. 2) rum neftin' id) bid) in ©aft unb ^eifte bid) 15 5113 etnen S3oIf3betftorer, einen Qaub’rer, SDer unertaubte, 66fe ®iinfte treibt. — £egt §anb an iftn, unb feftt er fid) $ur SSeftr, gliungt iftn, nnb g iitt'3 fein Seben. Otft. ' ©teftt fturitd, 20 Qftr, bie fitt mid) ^artei neftmt, nnb iftr 5lnbern! — 5Bar gecftteit ntcine Sftode, nun, bie ttmftf id) 5tud) oftne ©tidftmort. — S&oftin fod id) fotgen Unb enter ,fHage fteft'n ? S3 tab. ’ 3 n ©aft; bi3 geit nnb gotnt 25 ^ au f be3 graben 9^ed)t§derftbr§ bid) ruft gur Slnttnort. Otft. SSie benn nun, menu id) geftoreftte? — SSie fame ba3 bent ©er ( ^og iooftt erumnfcftt, £)e3 S3oten ftier an meiner ©eite fteft'n, 30 ^Jiicft megen bringenben ®efcftaft3 im ©tacit S3or iftn \vl fiiftren? ($erid)t3b. ©o ift% eftrttmrb’ger ©err; £)er ©er^og fitd ^u £ftat, unb duet ($naben S$arb~ fiefter and) beftedt. 35 S3rab. Sftat ber ©er^og? — Setjt urn bie 5Jlitternad)t? — giiftrt iftn baftin; 9Ud)t fd)ted)t ift mein ®efucft. 3)er ©er^og felbft Unb fegtidfter don meinen 5lmt3genoffen DJhtft fiiftlen meine ®ranfung mie fein eigen: 40 3)emt laftt man fotcfte Untftat ftraflo3 flatten, SSirb ©eib’ unb ©ftad' bet un3 al3 ©errfcfter inatten. [©ie getjeit aO 10 2 * OTHELLO. Scene III. A Council- Chamber. The Duke and Senators, sitting at a table; Officers attending. 5 Duke. There is no composition in these news That gives them credit. First Sen. Indeed, they’re disproportion’d ; My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty. 10 Sec. Sen. And mine, two hundred: But though they jump not on a just account, — As in these cases, where the aim reports, ’Tis oft with difference, — yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. 15 Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment: I do not so secure me in the error, But the main article I do approve In fearful sense. Sailor. \within\ What, ho ! what, ho ! what, ho ! 20 First Off. A messenger from the galleys. Enter a Sailor. Duke. Now, what’s the business? Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes; 25 So was I bid report here to the state By Signior Angelo. Duke. How say you by this change? First Sen. This cannot be, By no assay of reason: ’tis a pageant, 30 To keep us in false gaze. When we consider The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, And let ourselves again but understand, That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, So may he with more facile question bear it, 35 For that it stands not in such warlike brace, But altogether lacks the abilities That Rhodes is dress’d in: — if we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskilful To leave that latest which concerns him first, 40 Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, To wake and wage a danger profitless. Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he’s not for Rhodes. First Of. Here is more news. U ©tfjetto. flriiie Sjeitc. ©in @aa( ttn l)er jogiidjen $alaft. 2)er .^erjog nnb Me Sen at or eu, an einer Xafel ft^enb. 5 .^er^. Qn biefen SBriefen fefjlt Qufantntenbang, Ser fie beglaubigt. (Sr ft. ©enat. Qa toof)I, fie meid)en bon einanber ab; s Jftein ©djreiben nennt ntir ^unbert fed)§ ®aleeren. §er$. Unb meine§ ^unbert bier^ig. 10 3 toe it. ©enat. 9ftein§ ^toeifyunbert. Sod) ftintmt bte 3al)l and) nidjt genau pfantmen — 2Bie in^gentein, menu fie ($eriid)te ntelben, Ser gnljalt abtoeid)t — bod) ernmtjnen atte Ser tiirffdjen $lotte, bte gen (St)bern fegelt. 15 |>er§. dtetoif), ertoagen nrir§, fo fdjeiut e§ glaublid); 3d) mill mid) nid)t im Qrrtum ficfjer fdjatjen, $ielnte1)r ben £auptartifel fyalf id) toaI)r, Unb gurdjt ergreift mid). 9ftatr. (braufien.) ! l^aXXo ! ballo! — 20 ©in SBeamter tritt auf, bem ein Sftatrofe fotgt. learnt. 23otfd)aft bon ben ®aleeren! £>er$. Sftun? s Ba§ aiebfS! — §latr. Ser Siirfen $rieg§betoegung gefjt nad) 9Ujobu§; 25 ©o toarb ntir 2luftrag, bent ©enat jit ntelben, $on ©ignor Angelo. §ex* 5 . 3Sie biinlt ber 28ed)fel end)? — ©r ft. ©enat. ©o fa:tn T § nid)t fein r $ftad) feinent ©runb unb gug ; e3 ift ? ne WlaZU, 30 Sen S3ticf un§ fef)l ju leiten. lenten mir, 5Bie toid)tig (Silent fur ^ en Siirfen fei Unb toieberum, geftelj’n loir felber ein, Safj, mie r 3 bem Stiffen ntel)r berlobnt al§ ^obu§, (Sr and) mit leicf)term ^tufroanb fid) r § erobert, 35 Sietoeil e§ nid)t fo frieg§geriiftet fteljt Unb alter 2Bef)r nnb geftigfeit entbeljrt, 9ttit ber fic^ Stljo&uS fd)irmt; rner bie§ ertoagt, Ser toirb ben Stiffen nid)t fo tf) orient acfjten, Sa§ 9?ad)ftgelegne bi§ ^uletd gu fparen 40 Unb, Ieid)tert forfeit unb ®eioinn berfciumenb, 9htfclo§ ©efabr junt $ambfe fid) $u meden. £>er$. 3a, feib genrif), er benft an 9U)°& U 3 nidjt, learnt, ©eljt! Weue SBotfc^aft ! — li OTHELLO. Enter a Messenger. Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet. 5 First Sen. Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess ? Mess. Of thirty sail: and now they do re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, 10 Your trusty and most valiant servitor, With his free duty recommends you thus, And prays you to believe him. Duke. ’Tis certain, then, for Cyprus. — Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town ? 15 First Sen. He’s now in Florence. Duke. Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch. First Sen. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor. Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Ofticers. 20 Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman. — \To Brabantio] I did not see you ; welcome, gentle signior; We lack’d your counsel and your help to-night. Bra. So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me; 25 Neither my place nor aught I heard of business, Hath rais’d me from my bed ; nor doth the general care Take hold on me; for my particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o’erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows 30 And it is still itself. Duke. Why, what’s the matter? Bra. My daughter! 0, my daughter! , Duke and Sen. Dead? Bra. Ay, to me; 35 She is abus’d, stol’n from me, and corrupted By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; For nature so preposterously to err, Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, Sans witchcraft could not. 40 Duke. Whoe’er he be that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguil’d your daughter of herself And you of her, the bloody book of law You shall yourself read in the bitter letter | 12 Dtljetto. (Silt 33ote tri tt cntf. 33ote. ®te Dttomanen, roeife gndb’ge §errn, 3n grabem &auf §ur Qnfel 9il)obu§ fteuernb, 33ereinten bort fid) mit ber ^ebenflotte. 5 (St ft. 0enat. Sftun ja, fo bad)t r id) mit’3; — ttrie fiat! art 3al)I? 33ote. 3ln brei&ig ©egel; unb jefct iuenben fie ^Rudlenlenb i^reu 8auf, unb oijrie §el)l ©ilt if) re 3lbfid)t (£l)bern. §err Montano, 10 (Su’r feljr getreuer unb better Wiener, (Sntbeut in feiner ^flidjt end) biefe 9tod)ridjt tlnb f)offt, if ) x fdjenft it) m ©lauben. ^erj. 9cad) (St)bern bann geibifj. — s 3ttarcu§ £ucd)efe, ift er in 3$enebig? — 15 (Sr ft. 0enat. (Sr reifte nad) gdorenj. $ e r §. ©djreibt it)iu turn un§ ; fdjnell, nrinbfdjnell fomm r er ; eitt. § r ft. 0enat. gier tmnmt 33rabantio nub ber tapfre 9ftof)r. SBrabantio, Dtljetto, Sago, Stobriflo unb ®e r id)t§bieit er trcteit aitf. 20 ®er&. Stapfrer Dtbello, it)r mitfjt gleid) in§ gelb 58iber ben aUgemeinen $einb, ben Xitrfeu. — [BuSra bantio. Qd) fed)' end) nidit ; miflfommen, ebter §err! Un3 feblt 1 en’r 9tat unb 33eiftanb biefe 9£ad)t. 33 tab. Unb enrer mir, mein gitfger $iirft, bersefl&t mir! 25 s JUd)t 3lmt§beruf, nod) 92ad)rid)t bon ®efd)dfteu 5£rieb mid) bom 33ett; nid)t allgemeine (gorge (Srfnttt mid) jetd : benu mein befonb'rer GJram ($deid) einer (ttyringflut ftrbmt fo tnilb baf)in, £>af} er berfd)tudt nub einfdgfingt jebe 0orge, 80 9htr feiner fid) benmgt. §e rj. 9htn. ma3 gefd)af)? ^3rab. 0 Xodjter! £od)ter! (Sr ft. 0en. 0tarb fie? 33 r a b. 3a, fur mid). 35 0ie ift befd)imf)ft, entfiUjrt mir unb berberbt 3)urd) ^ejenfiinfte unb Cuadjatbertranfe; 3)enn bag ^atur fo miberfinnig irre, S)a fie nid)t ftumbf, nod) blinb, nod) blbbcn 0inn3, ©efd)af) nid)t ot)ne gauberfraft. — 40 £>et$. ^ er e * auc ^) T e b ber anf fo fd)nbbem 3Sege 0o enre dodder um fid) felbft betrog, Unb eud) nut fie, — ba§ blufge 33ud) be§ 3?ed)t§, Qt)r fottf e§ felbft in fjerbfter 0trenge beuten 12 OTHELLO, After yonr own sense, yea, though our proper son Stood in your action. Bra. Humbly I thank your grace. Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems, 5 Your special mandate for the state-affairs Hath hither brought. Duke and Sen. We’re very sorry for it. Duke. [To Othello] What, in your own part, can you say to this? 10 Bra. Nothing, hut this is so. Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approv’d good masters, That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her: 15 The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us’d 20 Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, 25 I will a round unvarnish’d tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration and what mighty magic, For such proceeding I am charg’d withal, I won his daughter. 30 Bra. A maiden never bold; Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion Blush’d at herself; and she — in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit, every thing — To fall in love with what she fear’d to look on l 35 It is a judgement maim’d and most imperfect That will confess perfection so could err Against all rules of nature, and must be driven To find out practices of cunning hell, Why this should be. I therefore vouch again 40 That with some mixtures powerful o’er the blood, Or with some dram conjur’d to this effect, He wrought upon her. Duke . To vouch this, is no proof, 13 Olfjerfo. 9?ad) etgnem ©inn, unb wax 7 e§ unfer ©of)U, $)ett eure Mage trifft. £>xab. 34 bant 7 in $)entut I §iex btefer ift 7 §, ber 3tto§x, ben je$t, [o fd^ein t% 5 (lu 7 x bxingenbe§ ©ebot int ®ienft be3 ©taat§ ,fMext)ex berief. 51 lie. 3)a§ ttjut un§ t)ex$tid) Xeib. ,§erj. (6u Ottjeiro.) 9®a§, euxexfeitS, nexmbgt if)x p ex- toibexn? 10 SBxab. $id)t§, at§ bafe bie§ bie SBa^xtjeit. O t ^nr)iirb r ger, macbfger nnb exlaudjter Dial, ©efjr eble, ioot)texbxobte gute §exxn — 5Daf3 i4 bent atten 9)?ann bie £od)tex natjm, 3ft nbEig toat)x; toatjx, fie ift mix* nexma|lt. 15 $ex £tjatbeftanb nnb Untfang nteinex ©d)ttlb 9ieid)t fo toeit, toeitex nid)t. 34 bin non xautjem SBoxt llnb fdt)Iecf)t begabt mit mitbex gxiebenSxebe. ©eit fiebenjat)x' 7 ge ®xaft mein 5lxm getoarot, 23i§ nox neun feonben ettoa, iibt 7 ex ftet§ 20 $ux Miege^at im getbe toie int fiagex; Unb toenig texnt’ id) non bent Sattf bex SBeft, 5113 toa3 pm ©txeit ge^oxt nnb 2®ext bex ©d)tad)t; 2) xum toenig ©d)mud roo^I teit) 7 t4 meittex ©ad^e, Sfteb 7 id) fitx mid). Penned), mit ettxex ©uuft, 25 (Sxpt)l 7 id) fd)tid)t nnb ungefdxbt ben §exaang $on nteinex Siebe; to a3 fitx £xanf unb Minfte, 5Ba3 fitx 33efd)tooxung, toel4e§ Qaubex3 M'aft — S)enn folcfjex Vittel ftet) r i4 angeflagt — 3) ie 3ungfxau mix getoantt. 30 53xab. ' ' (Sitt 9Jidbcf)en, fd)itd)texn, SSon ®eift fo ftill unb fanft, baf} febe 9Xegung (Sxxbtenb fd)toieg — bie fottte, txo£ 9tatux llnb 3 u 9 en b, ^atextanb nnb ©tanb, unb allent, $>a3 lieben, toa3 it)x ©xauen fd)uf p fet) 7 n? — 1 35 (Sin txanfe§ llxteil toax 7 3, ein unnolltommne3, 3)a3 roafjnt, e3 ixxe fo $8oflfommenI)eit, ©an& bex 9?atux entgegen: fd)tobxen muj3 man, 2)af) nux be3 Xeufel3 Mmft unb Sift bie3 aEe3 Rn tljun nexmocfjt’. 92od) einmat bettit be^aupt 7 id), 40 $)afj ex mit Xxdnten, it)xem 55tut nexbexbli4, Unb ftaubexfaft, getoeifjt 511 fotd)em 55amt, 51uf fte getoixtt. §ex5. ' SBetjauptung, nic^t 35etoei3; 18 OTHELLO. Without more wider and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him. First Sen. But, Othello, speak: 5 Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maid’s affections? Or came it by request and such fair question As soul to soul affordeth? Oth. I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary 10 And let her speak of me before her father: If you do iind me foul in her report, The trust, the office I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence 10 Even fall upon my life. Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither. Oth. Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place. [Exeunt Iago and Attendants And, till she come, as truly as to heaven 20 I do confess the vices of my blood, So justly to your grave ears I’ll present How I did thrive in this fair lady’s love, And she in mine. Duke. Say it, Othello. 25 Qth. Her father lov’d me; oft invited me; Still question’d me the story of my life, From year to year, — the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have pass’d. I ran it through, even from my boyish days, S3 To the very moment that he bade me tell it : Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field; Of hair-breadth scapes i’ the imminent deadly breach ; Of being taken by the insolent foe 35 And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence, And portance in my travels’ history : Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Bough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven It was my hint to speak, — such was the process; 40 And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline: Dtfjciro. 0tcl)t end) lein flarer geugniS §it ®ebot, 2113 fold)' unbaltbar 2fteinen, fold)' arntfeUger 0d)eingrnnb il)n $u befdjutbigen nennag? (S r ft. 0enat. 3>o aj fctgt, Othello: 5 £>abt ibr burd) ^ebembeg' unb fitnftlid) ^totngcnb SDer Jungfrau 0inn erobert unb nergiftet? £ber burd) 2lntrag unb erlaubte§ Serbett, Sie £>eis an .£)ei *5 fid) toenbet? £tl). 34 erfud)' end), io gum 0d)ut;en fenbet, ruft ba§ griiulein fyex, 11 nb Uor bent Sater ntag fie non ntir ^eugett. Hub toerb’ id) faljd) erfitnben burd) il)r Sort; $i4t nur Sertrau'n unb 2lntt, ba§ ibr ntir gabt, 9J?ogt ibr ntir nebnten, ja e§ treff eu'r 0prud) 15 9JceiVt Seben felbft. £>e r§. §olt ®e§bemona ber. Dtb- gmbnbricb, gebt mit, ibr nri§t ben Drt ant beften. Sago urtb ciitige Oom ©efotge gcfjett IjinauS. Unb bi§ fie fontmt, fo toal)r, toie id) bent .fMmntel 20 Sefenne nteine§ Slute§ fitnb'ge 3eble, 0o trenlid) ntelb' id) eurem ernften 0bu Sie id) getoaun ber fd)onen gungfrau Unb fie ba§ meine. ^erj. 0fn'ed)t, £)tbello. 25 Dtb- 3b^ Sater liebte mid), lub oft mid) ein, (£rforfd)te nteine§ £ebeit§ fiattf non 3 a b r gu 3ob r: bie 0d)lad)ten ; 0turme, 04 ieffal£toed)fel, 0o id) beftanb. 3d) ging e§ bur4, bom ®nabeualter ber, 30 Si§ auf ben Sugenblicf, too er gefragt. 0o fprad) id) beitn non ntand)em b or ten 3all, $8 on fd)rec!enber ©efabr $u 0ee unb Sattb; Sie id) um£ ^aar bent brob’nben £ob cntraun; Sie utid) ber ftol^e $einb gefangen nabtn, 35 Unb nticb al§ 0!lan r neriaitft ; toie id) erlbfi, Unb nteiner Dveifen tounbemode gabrt: Sobei non toeiten £)bblen, toitften ©terpen, 0teinbritd)en, gelfen, bintmelboben Bergen N gu melben toar im gortgang ber ®efrf)id)te; 40 Son $annibalen, bie einanber fd)lad)ten, s dntbro)30bbogen, So Hern, berett $obf Scid)ft ttnter ibrer 0d)ulter: ba§ ^n l)'6vm Sar 3)e$bemona eifrig ftet§ geneigt. 14 OTHELLO. But still the house-affairs would draw her thence; Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, She’d come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse: which I observing, 5 Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively: I did consent, 10 And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer’d. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore, — in faith, ’twas strange, ’twas passing strange ; 15 ’Twas pitiful, ’twas wondrous pitiful: She wish’d she had not heard it : yet she wish’d That heaven had made her such a man: she thank’d me; And bade me, if I had a friend that lov’d her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, 20 And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: She lov’d me for the dangers I had pass’d ; And I lov’d her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have us’d: — Here comes the lady; let her witness it. Enter Desdemona with Iago and Attendants. Duke. I think this tale would win my daughter too. 30 Good Brabantio, Take up this mangled matter at the best: Men do their broken weapons rather use Than their bare hands. Bra. I pray you, hear her speak: 35 If she confess that she was half the wooer, Destruction on my head, if my bad blame Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress: Do you perceive in all this noble company Where most you owe obedience? 40 Des. My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty: To you I’m bound for life and education; My life and education both do learn me 15 Otl)cl(o, Oft aber rief ein $au§gefd)dft fie ab; Hub i miner, menn fie etlig bie§ DoHbradjt, ©leid) font fie mieber, unb mil burff gem $8erfd)tang fie nteine 9^ebe. $>ie§ bemerfenb, 5 ©rfab id) einft bie giinfUge ©limb* unb gab 3b r 9lnla6, bajs fie mid) red)t ^erglid) bat, £>ie gan^e fpilgerfdjaft ibr er^ablen, SSon'ber fie ftudmei§ ©ingelne§ getjbrt, $)od) nid)t in ftrenger golge. 3d) begann, 10 Unb oftmalS b^ id) £b l ’bnen ib r entlocft, SP?enn id) ein leibDoII s ^tbenteu ; r berid)tet 2tu§ meiner Qugenb. 91 1§ id) nnn geenbigt, ©ab fie $uni £obn mir eine SSelt Don ©eufftent: @ie fdjmur — in $8abrbeit, fettfant! 2Bunber[eltfam! 15 Unb ritbrenb mar’§! unenblid) riibrenb mar’3! — 0ie ioiinfd)te, baft fie r § nidbt gcbbrt; bod) miinjcbte fie, 3)er £)immel b abe fie al§ foId)eit 9Dtotn ©efcftaffen, nnb fie banfte mir nnb bat mid), 28emt je ein grennb Don mir fie lieben follte, 20 3d) mbg r ibn bie ©efd)id)t r er^ablen leftren, £)a§ miirbe fie geminnen. 9lnf ben 9&int ©rfldrf id) mid). 6ie liebte mid), met! id) ©efaftr beftanb, Qd) liebte fie unt iftre§ 9Kitleib§ mil ten: 25 $)a§ ift ber gan^e $auber, ben id) braud)te; §ier fommt ba§ graulein, laftt fie bie§ be^engen. 3)e§bemona, Sago unb ®efotge treten auf. $ex%. 9hm, bie ©efd)id)te bait 7 aud) meine Xodbter 30 ©emomten. ^Bitrbiger 23rabantio, Stfebmt, toa§ Derfeb’n marb, Don ber beften ©eite; s J}?an fid)t bod) lieber mit ^erbrod)nem ©djmert, 911§ mit ber bloften §anb. 23rab. §brt fie, id) bitf eudb; 35 33efennt fie, baft fie bolb ibm !am entgegen, grind) anf mein §anftt, menu meine bttfre Mage £)en 9Jiann Derunglimftft! — tomm' b er r juttge 2)ame, 9&en fiebft bu bier in biefem eblen Mei§, 3)em bn ^nmeift ©eborfam f(f)ulbig bift? 40 £)e§b. 9DMn ebler $8ater, Qd) febe bier ^miefacb geteilte ^flidjt: ©ud) mitft id) Seben banfen nnb ©r^iebung, Unb Seben unb ©r§iebung lebren mid) OTHELLO. How to respect you; you are the lord of duty, — I’m hitherto your daughter: but here’s my husband; And so much duty as my mother show’d To you, preferring you before her father, 5 So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord. Bra. God he with you ! — I have done. — ; Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs : I had rather to adopt a child than get it. — 10 Come hither, Moor: I here do give thee that with all my heart Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart I would keep from thee. — For your sake, jewel, I’m glad at soul I have no other child; 15 For thy escape would teach me tyranny, To hang clogs on them. — I have done, my lord. Duke . Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence, Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers Into your favour. 20 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 new mischief on. What cannot be preserv’d when fortune takes, 25 Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robb’d that smiles steals something from the thief; ' He robs himself that spends a bootless grief. Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile; We lose it not, so long as we can smile. 30 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, 35 Being strong on both sides, are equivocal: But words are words; I never yet did hear That the bruis’d heart was pierced through the ear. — - I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state. ] Duke . The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes 40 for Cyprus . 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. OtCjetTo. ©ud) eijren; it)r feib perrfdjer metner $ftid)t, 2 Bie id) eudj Xodjter. $)od) tjter ftefjt mein ©atte, Unb jo Diet fpftid)t, d§ meitte Gutter end) ©e^eigt, bci fie eud) Dor^og itjrent SSater, @o Dtet muf$ idj aud) meiuent fatten roibnten, 3)em $D?ot)ren, meineut §errn. 23 rob- <^5ott fei mil bir! 3$ Bin $u ©nbe. — ©etiebt’§ ©u r £)of)eit, jetd $it ©taat^gefdjaften. — D ^engt 1 id) nie ein ®inb unb roabtt' ein frembe§! Xxitt ncifjer, $cot)r! $ier geb' id) bir Don gan^ein £>er$en Ijin, 2£a§, b)dtt ft bu r § nidjt, id) bir bon gan^em §er^en $erroeigerte — Urn beinetroiflen, 5H’einob, @rfreut’§ mid), bafj tein $roeite§ linb mir roarb; 3)urd) beine gludjt roar' id) tt)rannifd) roorben Unb Xegt r if) r ®etten an. 3d) bin §u ©nbe. -&er§. Qd) reb' an eurer ©tatt unb fail' ein itrteil, £)a§ einer ©taffet gteid) ben Siebenben SBetjiitftid) fei. 2Bem nidjtS meljt $ilft, ber mufi nid)t ©ram Derfdjroenben, Unb roer ba§ ©djlimntfte fat), bie goffnung enben; Unbeil beltagen, ba§ nidjt metjr $u befferri, ©etfet urn fo metjr ba§ Unveil nur Dergrofjern. 3Ba§ nidjt &u retten, laf* bem faljdjen ©tiki Unb gieb’ ©ebutb fiir ^ranlung ibnt pritd. gum Danube Iddjeftt, Ijeifjt ben 2)ieb befte^Ien, ®od) felbft beraubft bu bid) burd) nufeloS Ouaten. 23rab. ©o mbgt if)r ©bpern nur ben feitrfen gbnnen; 3Btr baben'§ nod), fo tang’ roir Iddjetn Ion nett. Seidjt trdgt ben ©prudj, roen aubre Saft nidjt briidt Unb roen ber fetbftgefunbne Xroft erquidt; 2) od) fiibjtt er fein ©eroicfjt bei roaf)ren ©orgen, ^enn r § gilt, turn ber ©ebutb bie flafilmtu borqen. Sitter unb fiifj finb atP berlei ©enten^en, ®ie, fo gebraudit, an 9xedjt unb Unredjt qremen; 3) od) SKort bteibt SBort — nod) bob’ id) nie getefen, ®af 3 burd) ba§ Dfro ein franfe§ ^er^ genefen. — Scb bitf end) inftdubig, gef)'n roir an bie ©taatSqefdjdfte •per 5 . 3)er £itr!e fegelt mit geroaltiger firiegSruftunq aeaeu ©bbern. CtMo, eud) ift bie geftigfeit be§ 0 rt 8 ant beften befannt unb obgTetcf) roir bout einen ©tattoo Iter Don unbe< ftrittener gdtjtgfeit befifcen, fo begt bod) bie offenttidie gjfei- nung, jene unbefdjrdnlte ©ebieterin be3 (Srfolq* eine qrbfjere OTTTELLO. you must therefore be content to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and boiste- rous expedition. Oth . The tyrant custom, most grave senators, 5 Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnize A natural and prompt alacrity I find in hardness; and do undertake This present wars against the Ottomites. 10 Most humbly, therefore, bending to your state, I crave fit disposition for my wife, Due reference of place and exhibition, With such accommodation and besort As levels with her breeding. 15 Duke. If you please, Be ’t at her father’s. Bra. I’ll not have it so. Oth. Nor I. Des. Nor I; I would not there reside, To put my father in impatient thoughts 20 By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear; And let me find a charter in your voice, To assist my simpleness. 25 Duke. What would you, Desdemona? Des. That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world : my heart’s subdued Even to the very quality of my lord: 30 I saw Othello’s 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, 35 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. 40 Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not, To please the palate of my appetite; Nor to comply with heat — the young affects In me defunct — and proper satisfaction; X? OtfjePo. guberfidft p end). gfjr miifd eud) be^alb gefatten laffen, ben ©lan^ eure§ netten ©litd§ burdj biefe raulje unb ftiir= mifdje Unterne^mung p toerbunletn. £)tt)- 3)ie eiferne ©eioobnbeit, eb(e §errn, 5 0d)uf mir be§ $riege§ Staf)i unb fjetfenbett gum aHermeidjften glaum; id) ritfyme mid) $aturtid)er unb rafdjer SDtunterfeit gm fd)toerften Ungemad), unb bin bereit gum jeb’gen gelbpg mit bem 9ttufetmann. 10 gn &emut brum micf) neigenb bem Senat, ^erlang’ id) 6org r unb Sd)u£ fitr mein ©emat)t, ^Xnftiinb’ge OUicffidjt intern 9£ang unb 9Iufroanb Unb foldje 2Bo£)nung, foldje ®ienerfc^aft, 21 1§ intern Stanb ge^iemt. 15 $er^. ' 2Benn’§ eud) genel^m, ~ S3ei intern Skater. S3 tab. dimmer geb’ idj’S p. £)tl). 9£od) id). $)e§b. Wodf id); nidjt gern bettoeilf id) bort 20 Unb rei^te meine§ $ater§ Ungebulb, 28ar r id) ibnt ftet§ Dor 2lugen. — ©iifger giirft, £eit)t meinent SSortrag ein geneigte§ £)t)r Unb lafd mir eure ©unft al§ greibrief gelten, 9ttein f5)iicf)tern 28ort git fraffgen. 25 §erj. 28a§ miinfdjt ifjr, §>e§bemona? 3)e§b. 2)af} id) ben 2Jcot)ren liebf, um it)tn p leben, 9ttag r meine§ ©Iiicf§ getoaltfam father Sturm ^er 2Bett prufen: fa', mein §er& ergab fid) ©an^ unbebingt an meine§ §errn 23eruf. 30 9DUr mar £)tbefto§ 2Cntti| fein ©emiit, Unb feinem 9Xut)m unb feinem gelbenfinn §ab r id) Me SeeP unb irbifdj ©liicf gett>eil)t. S)rum, miirb'ge §errn, liifjt man mid) f)ier priitf 2IB grieben§ntotte, meit er pf)t in§ getb, 35 So raubt man meiner Siebe teure§ 3£ed)t Unb Ia|t mir eine fd)toere gmifdjenfteit, 5)em Siebften fern: brum lafjt mid) mit iijm giel/n. &tlj. Stimmt bei, i£)r .germ: id) bitf eud) brum; qemabrt gijr freie SBidfitr. 40 $)er §immel $euge mir’S : bie§ bitf icf) nidjt, Sten^aum* p rei^en rneiner Sinnenluft, 9tfod) Jjeifjem S3Iut p Siebe (juugen £rieben Selbftfiidjfger Siifte, bie jefct fd)io eigen mitffen), i? * 3 OTHELLO. But to be free and bounteous to her mind: And heaven defend your good souls, that you think I will your serious and great business scant For she is with me: no, when light-wing’d toys 5 Of feather’d Cupid seel with wanton dullness My speculative and offic’d instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, And all indign and base adversities 10 Make head against my estimation! Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste, And speed must answer it. First Sen. You must away to-night. 15 Des. To-night, my lord? Duke. This night. Oth. With all my heart. Duke. At nine i’ the morning here we’ll meet again. — Othello, leave some officer behind, 20 And he shall our commission bring to you; With such things else of quality and respect As doth import you. Oth. So please your grace, my ancient; A man he is of honesty and trust: 25 To his conveyance I assign my wife, With what else needful your good grace shall think To be sent after me. Duke. Let it be so. Good night to every one. [75 Brab.] And, noble signior, 30 If virtue no delighted beauty lack, Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. First Sen. Adieu, brave Moor; use Desd -mona well. Bra. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see : She has deceiv’d her father, and may thee. 35 [Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, &c. Oth . My life upon her faith! — Honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leave to thee: I pr’ythee, let thy wife attend on her; And bring them after in the best advantage. — - 40 Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour Of love, of worldly matters and direction, To spend with thee: we must obey the time. Rod. Iago, — [Exeunt Othello and Desdemona, Dtfjello. Stfur if)rent 2Bunfd) mittfdt)rig §o!b §u fern; Unb ©ott Dert)itf, ©nr* ©Men mbdjteu matjnen, gd) toerM eu r r ernft itnb grojg ©efdjaft Derfdumen, 38eit fie mil* fotgt — nein, menu ber teere $Tanb 5 S)e§ ftitcbfgen 2lmor mir mit itdp’ger £ragt)eit £)e§ ©eifteS unb ber X^atlraft 0dj'drfe ftumpft Unb mid) ©emtb entnerot unb fd)toad)t mein 58irfeit, ‘itftad)' eine §an§fran nteinen §elm jum ^effel Unb jebe§ nieb’re nub unttmrMge 3eugniS 10 ©rftefje toiber mid) unb meinen ^u^m! — §erg. ©3 fei, lute tyx’% mitfammen feftgefe^t: 0ie fo!g r eud), ober bteibe; ba§ ©efdjdft £>eifd)t bringenb ©it’. ©rfi. 0en. Qur $ftad)t nod) miif 3 t it)r fort.' 15 2)e§b. §euf Sftadjt, mein giirft? £>er§. §eut r $ftad)t. £)tt). $on gan^etn §er&en. |>erft. Unt nenn Uf)r frill) berfammetn mir un§ inieber. Duetto, taftt r nen Officer ^uriid, 20 S)er eure SSottmadjt eudj faun itberbringen, Unb ma§ nod) fonft en r r 9tmt unb £)ienftt>erl)dttni§ SSetrifft. Dtlj. ©efdHt’3 ©nr’ £)oljeit, l)ier mein gdt)nbrid) ; ©r ift ein ‘dftann Don ©f)r’ nub 9fteblid)feit. 25 Unb feiner gitl)rung laff id) meine gran Unb ma§ ©nr’ §ot)eit fonft fitr notig adjtet, •Jftir nad^ufenben. 4?er$. 6o mag e§ fein. — ©uf Sftadjt jel3t inSgefamt! (3u sBrabantio) ilnb, toitrMger §err, 30 2Benn man bie Xugenb mu| at§ fd)bn erlennen, S)iirft itjr nid)t t)dbtid) euren ©ibam nennen. ©rft. 0en. Sebt luo^I, ^ot)r! tiebt unb ebret $)e§bemona! $8rab. 0ei madjfant, iftof)r! baft 2tugen bn $u feb’n; 3)en $ater trog fie, fo mag r 3 bir ge'fdjeb'n, 35 [^er&ocj unb ©ettatoren ab. Ott)- 9J£ein ®obf fitr ibre £reu! §or', toad'rer gago, gd) mub bir meine S)e3bemona Xaffen ; gd) bitP bidX), gieb bein 28eib itjr $ur ©efedfdjaft Unb brtnge fie mir nad), fobalb bn fannft. — 40 ^omm f $)e§bemona, nur ein 0tiinbd)en bteibt $er Sieb* unb unferm bau§tid)en ©efdjdft Qn mibmen un§; tab un % ber Qtxi gebordjen. fftob. Sago, — [Ottjeno unb 2)e§bentona ab 3 * 1 $ OTHELLO. I ago. What say’st thou, noble heart? Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou? Iago. Why, go to bed, and sleep. Rod. I will incontinently drown myself. 5 Iago. If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou silly gentleman! Rod. It is silliness to live when to live is a torment; and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician. 10 Iago. 0 villanous ! I have looked upon the world for four times seven years ! and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found a man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, 1 would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I would change my 15 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. 20 Iago, Virtue! a fig! ’tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners ; so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many, either to 25 have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most 30 preposterous conclusions: but we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect or scion. 35 Rod. It cannot be. Iago. It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself ! drown cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend and 40 I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of per- durable toughness ; I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse: follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with an usurped beard; I say, put O tfcff o. ago. 2Ba§ fagft bu, eble§ ©er$? oo. 28a§ loerb' id) je|t tbun, meinft bu? ago. 9hm, %u 23ette getj'n uub fd)tafen. ob. s 2luf ber ©telle erfaufen loerb’ id) mid), ago. Sftun, toemt bu ba§ tbuft, fo ift’3 mit mehter $reunb= fcgaft auf eioig au§. (£i, bu alberner junger ©err! 9?ob. (£§ ift Slbernbeit $u leben, menu ba§ Seben eine dual roirb ; uub loir bdben bie $8orfd)rift $u fterben, toeun Sob urtfer ^rjt ift. 10 3 ago. 0 iiber bie G£rbarmlid)feit! 3$ ^abe ber SBett an bie oiermal fieben ,3at)re $ugefeb r n, uub feit id) einen Unter= fd)ieb gu ftnben loufde jioifcben SBobltbat uub SBeteibigung, bin id) nod) feinem begegnet, ber r § Oerftanben bdtte, fid) felbft gu liebeit. ©b’ id) fagte, id) ioodte mid) einem ^utt= 15 i)itt)nd)en $u &iebe erfaufen, ef) ? taufd)t r id) meine 9ftenfd)= beit mil eiueut $aOian. 9tob. 28a§ foil id) tbun? 3d) geftebe, e§ mad)t mir©d)anbe, fo febr oerliebt §u feitt; aber nteine Sugenb reid)t nid)t bin, bent ab^ubelfeu. 20 3 a 9°- Sugenb! 5lbgefd)madt! — 3n un§ felber Iiegt% ob loir fo finb, ober anberS. ttnfer ®brf)er ift ein ©arten uub unfer $Me ber Partner, fo bafc, ob loir Sfteffeln brin bftan^en looden ober @alat bauen, Dfob aufoieben ober Xbl)inian au§jaten, ibu biirftig mit einerlei $raut befetien 25 ober mit mand)erlei ©eioad)§ au§faugen, ibu mujng t>erroil= bern laffen ober fleifjig in gud)t fatten — ei, ba§ $8er= rnogen ba^u itnb bie beffernbe 5D^ad)t liegt burd)au§ in un= fernt freieit 28iden. ©atte ber SBagbalfen unfre$ fieben^ nid)t eiue ©d)ate Oon $ernunft, tun eine anbre non ©imt= 30 lid)!eit auf§uioiegen, fo loitrbe unfer 93Xut uub bie $o§artig= feit unfrer Sriebe un§ jit ben au§fd)ioeifenbften SBerfebrt^ beiten f itbrert ; aber loir baben bie $ernunft, urn bie tobem ben £eibenfd)aften, bie f(eifd)Iid)en Sriebe, bie jixgedofen Siifte $u fixbten; uub barau§ fd)tie^e id): toa§ bu Siebe 35 nemtft, fei ein $frobfrei§, ein 2lbleger. o b. Sa§ faun rtid)t fein. 3 ago. (£§ ift nur ein (Miift be§ $8tut§, eine ^adigiebigfeit be§ SBidenS. 2luf! fei ein^ann! Sid) erfaufen? ^rfdufe ®a£en uub junge ©unbel 3 d) nenne mid) beinen greunb 40 uub erflare mid) an bein ^erbienft gefnubft mit bem 5tn= fertau ber auSbauernbften geftigfeit; nie fonnte icb bir beffer beifteben al§ je£t. Sbu r (Mb in beinen SBeutel; $ieb r mit in biefen ®rieg, Derftette bein ®efid)t burd) etnen fatfdjen 19 OTHELLO, money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor, — put money in thy purse, — nor he his to her: it was a vio- lent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable 5 sequestration; — put but money in thy purse. — These Moors are changeable in their wills : — till thy purse with money: — the food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is 10 sated with his body, she will hnd the error of her choice. She must have change, she must: therefore put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an 15 erring barbarian and a supersubtie Yenetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way : seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned 20 and go without her. Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue? 35 dago. Thou art sure of me: — go, make money; — I have , told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no less rea- son. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him : if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, 30 me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time, which will be delivered. Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more of this to- morrow. Adieu. Rod. Where shall we meet i 7 the morning? 35 dago At my lodging. Rod. I’ll be with thee betimes. dago. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? Rod. What say you? 40 dago. No more of drowning, do you hear? Rod. I am changed: I’ll go sell all my land. [Exit, i Jago. Go to ; farewell : put money enough in your purse. — j Thus do I ever make my fool my purse; 20 Ottjeflo. $8art; id) fage bit: t£)U T ©etb in beinen SBeutet. ©§ ift un= benfbar, baft 3)e§bemona ben StRobren aitf bie $£)auer lieben follte, — t£)U 7 ©el b in beinen SSeutel l — nod) ber 9Robr fie: e§ mar etn gemattfame§ 23eginnen nnb bn mirft feb'n, 5 bie ®ataftroftbe mirb eine d£)nlid)e fein. ^n T nnr ©etb in beinen SBeutel: — fo etn 9!Robr ift Oeranbertid) in feinen SReigungen; fitCte beinen SSeutel nut ©etb; — bie 0fteife, bie itjnt jeftt fo mitr^ig fdjmedt at§ 01tftbots, mirb ipn batb bittrer biinfen at§ $oloquinten. 0ie mufe fid) cinbern, 10 benn fie ift jung; nnb bat fie ipn erft fatt, fo mirbjgfie ben 3rrtum i^rer 9®at)t etnfeb'n. 0ie ntuft 2lbmed)Mung baben, ba§ mufe fie; barnnt t|u' ©etb in beinen SBeitteL 2Bemt bn burd)au§ pm Xenfet fatten mittft, fo tip’ e§> anf ange- nebmerem 2Bege at§ burd) ©rfaufen. 0d)aff Mr ©etb, fo 15 Met bn famtft ! 2Benn be§ $riefter§ 0egen nnb etn f)o£)te§ ©etiibbe ^mifcften einen abentenernben 2lfrifaner nnb enter iibertiftigen $enetianerin fur nteinen 2Bi ft nnb bie gan^e 0iftftfd)aft ber §otte nicf)t p bart finb, fo fottft bn fie be= fiften; barnnt fdf)aff r bir ©etb. gum Renter mit bent ©r= 20 fattfen! $)a§ tie gt toeit ab toon beinem 2Bege. SDenfe bn iieber branf, p ' tfattgen, inbem bu beine £uft biifteft, at§ bid) p erfciufen nnb fie faftren p laffen. fRob. 0olt id) nteine ^mffuung anf bicf) bauen, menu id) r § branf mage? 25 3 aq o. s 2tuf nticf) fannft bu pbten ; — gep T , fdfaffe bir ©etb ! — id) babe bi r’§ oft gefagt nnb miebert)ote e£ aber ttnb aber= ntat$: id) paffe ben 9Robren; mein ©runb tommt toon §er= ( ^en, ber beinige tiegt eben fo tief: lap itn§ feft in itnfrer 3iad)e pfamnten patten, fannft bit it)nt Corner auffeften, 30 fo macpft bit bir eine Suft nnb ntir einen 0ftaft. ©§ rubt nod) mand)e§ im 0d)oft ber geit, ba§ pr ©ebnrt mitt, ©rabe burd)! — $ort! £reib ? bir ©etb anf! 2Btr molten e§> morgen meiter toerbanbetn. £eb' mobt! — fRob. 3Bo treffen mir un§ morgen fritb? 35 3 ago. 3^ nteiner SBobnung. fRob. 3d) merbe ^eitig bort fetn. 3 ago. ©itt, teb’ mobt! — §bre bod), fRobrtqo ! fRob. 2Ba§ fagft bu? 3 ago $Rid)t§ toon ©rfanfen! §i5rft bu? 40 fRob. 3d) bertfe jeftt anber3. 3**) Mitt atte meine ©itter toer^ faufen. [SJiobrigo ab. 3ago. ^Rur p; teb’ mobt! tbu ? nnr ©etb genngin beinen SBeutet 0o mufe mciit ^Rarr mir ftet§ pm 0edel merben: 20 OTHELLO. / For I mine own gain’d knowledge should profane, If I would time expend with such a snipe, But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor; And it is thought abroad, that ’twixt my sheets 5 He has done my office: I know not ift be true; But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, Will do as if for surety. He holds me well; The better shall my purpose work on him. Cassio’s a proper man: let me see now: 10 To get his place, and to plume up my will In double knavery — How, how? — Let’s see: — After some time, to abuse Othello’s ear That he is too familiar with his wife. He hath a person and a smooth dispose, 15 To be suspected, fram’d to make women false. The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest that but seem to he so; And will as tenderly be led by the nose As asses are. 20 I have ’t. It is engender’d. Hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light. [Exit. 25 A C T II. Scene I. A Sea-port in Cyprus . An open place near the quay. Enter Montano and two Gentlemen. 31 Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea? First Gent. Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought flood; I cannot, ’twixt the heaven and the main, Descry a sail. Mon. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; 35 A fuller blast ne’er shook our battlements: If it hath ruffian’d so upon the sea, What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this? Sec. Gent. A segregation of the Turkish fleet: 40 For do but stand upon the foaming shore, The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds; The wind-shak’d surge, with high and monstrous main, Seems to cast water on the burning bear, 2 jOtfietfo. SOcein reifeg Urteit miirb 7 id) jet en tmeib'n, $ertdnbelt 7 id) ben £ag mit fold)em ®imbel Wlix obne Wvl# unb (Etyafj. — $)en 9Kobren baff id) 3)ie fftebe gebt, er §ab' in meinem SSett 5 9ftein Wmt bermaltet — moglidj, ba§ eg falfd) : $odj id), auf blofjen 2Irgmobn in bent gad 2SiH djun, atg mdr 7 g gemijj- (Sr bat mid) gent, Urn fo biel beffer mirb ntein ^lan gebeib'n. ®er (Saffio ift ein ^iibjcfjer dftamt — lafjt fe^nl 10 0ein $lmt erbafdjen, ntein (Mitfte bitten, — (Sin bopbelt 0djelmftitcf! — 28ie nur? Siafjt mid) feb’n — 9fttd) ein 7 ger Qeit £>tfjedo 7 g £)f)t betbbren, (Sr fei mit feinem SSeibe oertraut — S)er S3urfd) r ift moblgebaut, bon fd)nteib 7 ger 5Irt, 15 dtedjt fitr ben 9lrgmobn, red)t ben grau’n gefabrlid). $)er 9Diobr nun t)at ein grab 7 unb frei (SJemiit, 2)ag ebrlidj jeben bolt, fdjeint er nur fo; Unb Idfjt fid) fanftlid) an ber Sftafe fiibren, Sie (Sfel tbun. 20 gd) b a &% eg ift er^eugt; aug £>od 7 unb 9^acf)t 0ei biefe Untbat an bag £id)t gebrad)t. [@r ge^t a6. 25 ^wetter Slufgug. ®r#t Sjcnc. fjauvtftabt in Stypern. a_m£>afen. Montano unb stoei (gbelleutc treten auf. 30 s ]D£ont. 2Bag nnterfd)eibet man born S)amm $ur 0ee? (Sbetm. 9ttd)tg meit unb breit — 7 g ift bocbgefdjm$fte glut Unb nirgenb §mifd)en 9fleer unb fiafen faun id) (Silt 0d)iff entbeden. ®*ont. 9DUr febeint, ber 28inb blieg itberlaut ang Ufer; 35 9He traf fo boiler 0turm bie ^lufjenmerfe. 2$enn 7 g eben fo rumort bat auf ber 0ee, 28eld)’ eid) 7 ner ®iel, menu SBerge nieberfluten, S3Ieibt feftgefiigt? 28ag merben mir nod) bbren? 8meit. (Sbelnt. gerftreuung mob! beg titrlifdjen ®efd)tuaberg; 40 3)enn, ftellt end) nur an ben befd)dumten 0tranb, ^)ie §orn 7 ge 28oge fbriibt big an bie 2Mfen; ®ie fturmgebeitfcbte glut mid mad)t 7 gen 0d)madg 3)en 0d)aum binmerfen auf ben glitb’nben SBaren, 21 OTHELLO. And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole : I never did like molestation view On the enchafed flood. Mon. If that the Turkish fleet 5 Be not enshelter’d and embay’d, they’re drown’d; It is impossible they hear it out. Enter a third Gentleman. Third Gent. News, lords! our wars are done. 10 The desperate tempest hath so bang’d the Turks, That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance On most part of their fleet. Mon. How! is this true? 15 Third Gent. The ship is here put in, A Veronese; Michael Cassio, Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello, Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea, And is in full commission here for Cyprus. 2 o Mon. I’m glad on’t; ’tis a worthy governor. Third Gent. But this same Cassio, — though he speak ot comfort Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly, And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted 25 With foul and violent tempest. Mon. Pray heaven he be; For I have serv’d him, and the man commands Like a full soldier. Let’s to the seaside, ho! As well to see the vessel that’s come in 30 As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, Even till we make the main and the aerial blue An indistinct regard. Third Gent. Come, let’s do so ; For every minute is expectancy &5 Of more arrivance. Enter Cassio. Cas. Thanks you, the valiant of this warlike isle, That so approve the Moor! 0 , let the heavens Give him defence against the elements, 40 For I have lost him on a dangerous sea! Mon. Is he well shipp’d? Cas. His bark is stoutly timber’d, and his pilot Of very expert and approv’d allowance; 22 Othello. $>e§ etoig feften $o!e§ 2Bad)t gu lofdjen. 9^te fab' id) fo berberblidjen tumult &e§ aorn’gen Sfteereg. ^ont. 2Benn ni(f)t bie £urfenftotte 5 ©id) barg in 23ud)t unb §afen, fo oerfauf fie; @3 ift unmoglid), baft fie’S uberftanb. @irt brttter ©betmottn tritt auf. 10 20 25 80 35 40 $>rit. (Sbelnt. 23otfd)aft, if)r germ! S)er $rieg ift au§; ®er toiit'ge ©turn nafjnt fo bie Sitrfen nxit, ibre Sabung bin!t' — ein $rieg§fdjiff Don $enebiq SBar Qeuge graufer Sftot unb §'abarei S)e§ §auptteit§ ibrer grtotte. Wont ^ 28ie? 3ft ba§ toabr? — ®rit. (Sbelnt. £)a§ ©d)iff ^at angeleqt. (Sin SBeronefer; Wifyad (Saffto, Sieut'nant be§ Iriegerifdjen 9J£obr§ Dtbedo, ©tieg bier an§ £anb; ber 3Ro$r ift auf ber ©ee, 2tttt pcbfter SSoHmadJt untertoegS nad) (Silent. 9ft out. 9ttid) freufS; er ift ein toitrb'ger ©ouberoeur. S)rit. eb'clm. ®od) biefer (Saffio, — ft>rid)t er gteid) fo troftlid) ^om tiirfifdjen SBerluft, — fdjeint fe^r beforgt Hub betet fitr ben Sftobren : benn e§ trennte ' (Sin graufer, fdjtoerer ©turm fie. 9ft ont. ©d)u| ? i^n ©ott! 3di biente unter ibnt; ber 9Kann ift gan^ ©olbat nub gelbberr. ftomntt gum ©tranbe. bo! ©oioobt ba§ ein gelanfne ©djiff §n fel/n nad) bent tapfern ^Jtobren au§§ufd)au’n, $i§ too bie Sfteerflut unb be§ 2(eter§ SBIau Qn (Sin§ berfdjntil^t. ®rit. (Sbelnt. $a§ lafet m% tljnn; ®enn jeber §lugenbl tcf ift ieftt (Srtoartunq $on neuer 9tnfunft. (£affio tritt Gttf. (Saf. 3)anf aden Sabfern biefe§ ntufgen (SilaitbS, 2)ie fo ben 9J?obren lieben; ntbd)f il)n bod) 5)er £inunel fc^ix^en bor bem (Slement, S)enn id) bertor ifn auf ber f^Iimmften ©ee» 9ft out. £at er ein gute§ gabr^eug? eaf. ©ein ©drift ift ftart gebaut unb fein SBilot ® on tooblgebriifter, funb’ger 2Jtafterfd)aft; 22 OTHELLO. Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, Stand in bold cure. [ A cry within\ A sail, a sail, a sail! Enter a fourth Gentleman. Cas. "What noise? Fourth Gent. The town is empty ; on the brow o’ the sea Stand ranks of people, and they cry sail \ ” Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor. 2q | Guns heard Sec. Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy: Our friends at least. Cas. I pray you, sir, go forth, And give us truth who ’tis that is arriv’d. 15 See. Gent. I shall. . jri [ Exii Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wived i Cas. Most fortunately: he hath achiev’d a maid That paragons description and wild fame; One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, 20 And in the essential vesture of creation Does bear all excellency. — How now? who has put in Re-enter second Gentleman. t 25 Sec. Gent. ’Tis one Iago, ancient to the general. Cas. Has had most favourable and happy speed : Tempests themselves, high seas and howling winds, The gutter’d rocks, and congregated sands,— Traitors ensteep’d to clog the guiltless keel- 30 As having sense of beauty, do omit Their mortal natures, letting go safely by The divine Desdemona. Mon . What is she? # • Cas’ She that I spake of, our great captain’s captain, « 35 Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts A se’nnight’s speed. Great Jove, Othello guard, And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, 40 Make love’s quick pants in Desdemona’s arms, Give renew’d fire to our extincted spirits, And bring all Cyprus comfort! -- 0, behold, Dtpflo. 3)rum b&rrt mein §offen, nod) nidft tottid) tranf, ^i'tljn auf ©enefung. [3ftepere <5timmen braufcett (gin ©djiff! ©in ©djiff! ©in ©c£)iff ! — @itt oierter ©betmantt tritt auf. ©af. Sa§ rufen fie? © r ft. ©betnt. 3)ie ©tabt ifi leer; am 9fteere§ufer ftebt ©ebrdngt ba§ $ol!, man ruft: ein ©d)iff! ein ©d)iff! ©af. 9Jlein £>offen indent, e§ fei ber ©ouoerneur. [SKan prt ©djiiffe. $meit. ©belnt. 9ttit greubenfdjiiffen falutieren fie; Quin minb’ften greunbe finb’3. ©af. Qd) bitt r end), §err, ©et)t, bringt un§ fid^ r re ‘iftacbricbt, mer getanbet. gmeit. ©betm. ©ogteid). [®ep ab. s &ont. ©agt, lieutenant, ift ber ©eneral Oermablt? ©af. Qa, du|erft gliicflid). ©r getoann ein fjrdulein, £)a§ jeben fd&mdrmerifdjen $rei§ erreid)t, $unftreid)er gebern Sobfbrud) iiberbeut Hub in ber ©djityfung reid)begabter giilte $>ie 3)id)tung fetbft ermattet. — Sftun, mer maf§? S)er (Sbelmantt fommt guriicE. 3toeit. © b e t m. $)e§ getbberrn gdbnbrid), ein gemiffer Qago. ©af. $)er bat ^bd^ft fdjnette, giinffge gabrt geijabt: 3)ie ©tiirme fetbft, bie ©trbmung, mitbe Setter, ©e^adte $Iibben, auf geb auf ter ©anb, — Unfd)utb r gen ®iet $u fabrben teid)t Oerbiittt, — 2U§ bdtten fie fitr ©d)onbeit ©inn, Oergaffen 3br tbttid) 2lmt unb tieffen ungefrdnft $£)ie b^be $De§bemona burd). 9ft out. Ser ift fie? ©af. Sue icf) genannt, bie §errin unfre§ §errn, 2) er g^b^ng anOertraut be§ fiibuen Qago, 3) e§ Sanbung unferm §offen fcorgeeitt Urn eine Sod)e. — 0 £err, befd)u£ ? Dtbelto! ©ein ©eget fcbmette bein attmdd)fger £>aud), $a )3 batb feitt mad ? re§ ©d)iff ben £mfen fegne; &ann eiF er tiebenb an ber ©attin 53ruft ©ntftamme gtii^enb unfern tauen 5Qlut Unb bringe ©typern Xrdftung! — ©ebt, o febt! -« OTHELLO. Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Boderigo, and Attendants. The riches of the ship is come on shore! Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven, 5 Before, behind thee, and on every hand, Enwheel thee round! Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio. What tidings can you tell me of my lord? Cas. He is not yet arriv’d: nor know I aught 10 But that he’s well, and will be shortly here. Des. 0 , but I fear — How lost you company? Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship : — but, hark ! a sail. [Within] A sail, a sail! [Guns heard. 15 Sec. Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel: This likewise is a friend. Cas. See for the news. [Exit Gentleman. Good ancient, you are welcome! [To Emilia] Welcome, mistress : 20 Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, That I extend my manners; ’tis my breeding That gives me this bold show of courtesy. [Kissing her. Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, 25 You’ld have enough. Des. Alas, she has no speech. Iago. In faith, too much; I find it still, when I have list to sleep: Marry, before your ladyship, I grant, 30 She puts her tongue a little in her heart, And chides with thinking. Emil. You have little cause to say so. Iago. Come on, come on; you’re pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild-cats in your kitchens, 35 Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds. Des. 0 , fie upon thee, slanderer! Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk: You rise to play, and go to bed to work. 40 Emil. You shall not write my praise. Iago. No, let me not. Des. What would’st thou write of me, if thou should’st praise me? n PtfjcTto. 2)e§bemottct, (SmUia, Sago uttb Sftobtigo tretcn auf. ©djiffeS Seidjtum ift an§ Sanb gefommen! — S*)f, G£t)pern§ ©Me, neigt eud) fjufbigenb: ®eit bir, o $errin! uttb be§ |)immel§ ©nabe 5 23egfeite bid) auf aden ©eiten ftet§, £)id) rtng§ umfdjfiefjenb. ®e§b. 3)anf eud), toad'rer (£affio! Unfit ibr tnir bon nteinem £>errn fageit? ©af. Sftod) farn er xtidjt, nod) toeii id) irgenb mefjr, bafc er toof)l unb bafb f)ier fanben mufj. $e§b. 3d) furcate nur, — trie fjabt iijr ifjn berloren? $er grofte $ambf be§ £immef§ unb be§ 2Reer3 Srenuf unfern Sauf — bod) fjord)! e§ nabt ein ©dbtffi rfl n wr d,if i ! . r [®*“« Wrt fcfjiefsen. gtoett. @belm. ®er (Sttabede brmqt e§> fetnen ©rufr Stucb bie§ ftnb Sreunbe. p ' ®^f- ®e§t unb fdjafft un§ 9tedjrid)t. cvr^YY^ c [®er jr.'citc ©befmann a&. SBtdlomnten, ga^nbrid); toerte gran, midfommen! 9Ud)t rei§’ e§ euren Unmut, guter Sago, Stofi id) bie Sreifjeit naljm; benn meine $eimat @rl aubt fo fiibjn en $raud) ber ®offid)feit. [ffir tii&t ©mitten. Sago. ^ $err, gaben i^re Stypen end) fo oief, fie mir oft befdjert mit ifjrer ^unge, 3b r ijattet g r nug. ^e§b. 3)ie ^frnte fbridjt ja faunt! Sago. (St, oiel §u oief! merf id) immer, toenn id) fdjfafen mbdjte; 58or ©uer ©naben freilid), gfaub' id) r § tool)!, Segt fie bie gung’ ein toenig in ifjr £>ers Unb feift nur in ©ebanfen. 3Sie bu fdmmbeft! Sago, ©ebt, geb)t ! Sfjr feib ©emcifbe aufierm ftau§, ©diedcn im Simmer, ®rad)en in ber ®ud)e: * Serleftt ibr, £)eidge; Xeufef, franft man end): ©b^U mit bem $>au£fjalt, fjaftet £au§ im Sett. ^)e§b. 0 fdjame bid), Serfeumberl ^ein, ba8 ift luafa! nid)t trr’ id) unt ein ©aarbreit: Sbr ftefjt jum ©f)tel auf, ge^t in§ Sett §ur Arbeit. ^nttf. 3^ r f°dt mein Sob nid)t fdjreiben. ^ a ^°- SSiU ; § and) nicbt ^)e§b. .SBaS fAriebft bu tvoty non mir, foUt’ft bu mid) foben? 3 ^ OTHELLO. Iago. 0 gentle lady, do not put me to ’t; For I am nothing, if not critical. Des. Come on, assay. — There's one gone to the harbour? Iago. Ay, madam. 5 Des . I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. Come, how wouldst thou praise me? Iago. I am about it; but indeed my invention Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize ; 10 It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours, And thus she is deliver'd. If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, The one's for use, the other useth it. Des. Well prais'd! How if she be black and witty? 15 Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit, She’ll find a white that shall her blackness fit. Des. Worse and worse. Emil. How if fair and foolish? Iago. She never yet was foolish that was fair; 20 For even her folly help’d her to an heir. Des. These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i’ the alehouse. What miserable praise hast hou for her that’s foul and foolish? 25 Iago. There’s none so foul and foolish thereunto, But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do. Des. 0 heavy ignorance ! — thou praisest the worst best. But what praise could’st thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her 30 merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself? Iago. She that was ever fair and never proud, Had tongue at will and yet was never loud, Never lack’d gold and yet went never gay, Fled from her wish and yet said “Now I may,” 35 She that, being anger’d her revenge being nigh, Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly, She that in wisdom never was so frail To change the cod's head for the salmon’s tail, She that could think and ne’er disclose her mind, 40 See suitors following and not look behind; She was a wight, if ever such wight were, — Des . To do what? Iago. To suckle fools and chronicle small beer, 85 Qago. 0 gnab'ge gran, nidft forbert fo mid) auf; $enn id) bin nid)t3, menu id) nidjt laftern barf. 5)e§b. @o fang* nur an. — ®ing einer fjin pnt^afen? Sago. S<*, eble 5tau. 5 3)e§b. Sa3 finb abgefdjmadte alte 9£eime, nut bie barren im 53ierijaufe pm Sadjeit p bringen. 28a§ fur ein er= bdrmtidje§ Sob fjaft bu benn fitr eine, bie bja^Iicf) unb bumm ift? 25 3 ago. ®ein 9(ftdbdjen ift fo bnmm unbljafflid) audj gugleid^, £ro£ §itbfd)en unb ©efdjeiten mad)t fie ’nen butnmen ©treidj. £)e§b. 0 grober Unberftaitb ! S)u peifeft bie ©djledjtefte am beften. 2lber toeldje§ Sob bteibt bir fitr eine loirtlid) ber= bienftbotle gran? fur eine, bie in bent Slbel itjre§ 2Berte§ 30 mit 9^edb)t ben $tu§fbrudj ber 25o§ljeit felbft ljerau§forbern barf ? Sago. 4)ie immer fd)bn, bodb) nid)t bent ©tolj bertraut, Won gunge flint, trod) niemal§ fpradj p lant; 9Hdjt arm an (Mb, nie bunten ©djmua fid) gonnte, 2)en 2Bunfd) erfticft, unb bennod) ioeifj: id) fontttel 35 $)ie felbft im gont, toenn fftadje nalj 7 pr §anb, £>ie ®ranfung,,tragt nnb iljrett ©roll berbannt; ^)te nie bonjilbermit) fid) lafft beraufd)en, Siir berbett ©atm ben ©rihtbling einptaufdjen ; ©ie, bie Diet benft, bie S^eigung bodj berfdjtoeigt 40 Unb feinen $8lid bem ©d)tnarm ber ^Berber ^eigt; ^)ie nennt’ id) gut, — todf fie nur aufptreibeh, — £>e§b. 9hut fag r , loop? Sago, Sftarftt aufppfj'n unb $)itnnbier anpfdjreiben. 25 4 OTHELLO. Des. 0 most lame and impotent conclusion! — Do no learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband.— H oa say you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and libera counsellor? 5 Cas. He speaks home, madam: you may relish him mor in the soldier than in the scholar. Iago. \aside\ He takes her by the palm: ay, well said whisper: with as little a web as this will I ensnare a f great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do; I wil 10 give thee in thine own courtship. You say true ; ’tis sc indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out of you lieutenantry, it had been better you had not kissed you three fingers so oft, which now again you are most ap to play the sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellen 15 courtesy! ’tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers t< your lips? would they were clysterpipes for your sake [ Trumpet within — The Moor! I know his trumpet. 20 Cas . ’Tis truly so. Des. Let’s meet him and receive him. Cas . Lo, where he comes! ; Enter Othello and Attendants. 25 Oth. 0 my fair warrior! j Des. My dear Othello! Oth. It gives me wonder great as my content To see you here before me. 0 my soul’s joy! If after every tempest come such calms, 30 May the winds blow till they have waken’d 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 die, ’Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear 35 My soul hath her content so absolute, That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate. Des . The heavens forbid But that our loves and comforts should increase, 40 Even as our days do grow! Oth. Amen to that, sweet powers! J I cannot speak enough of this content; It stops me here; it is too much of joy: 26 DHjeffo. S)e§b. £) liber foldjen Icemen, ^tn!enben — fierne nid)t§ Don iljm, (Smilie, tuenn er gleidj bein s Iftann ift. — 3£a§ meint i^r, C^affto ? 3ft er nicQt ein redjt ^eil= lofer, au§gelaffener ©d)todt)er? 5 (Saf. (Sr rebet berb, gnab’ge gran; ber ©olbat toirb end) beffer an iljm gefallen, al§ ber (Met) rte. 3 ago. (SBeifeitc.) (Sr faf$t fie bet ber §anb: fo redjt! ftiiftert nur! 3JMt ioldjent fleinen (Moebe mitt id) eine fo grofte gliege itmganten, al§ (Saffio. — 3^ tadjle bu fie an!' 9^ur 10 $u! S)eine eignen ©djarrfiifje fotten bir Seinfdjeffen foerben. — ®an$ red)t ! 3^ ber £bat, fo iff 3, — memt fold)e9£fta* nierett bid) mn betne £ieutenantfd)aft brtngen, fo mar’§ beffer gemefett, bn ptteft beine bret ginger nid)t fo oft gefitfjt, mit benen bn jetd mieber fo ftattlid) ben ®at> alter f^ielft. — 15 — ©eljr gut! 2Bol)l getiifd! (Sine berrltd)e SSerbeugung! 3a, jo, fo ift’3! — ©djott mieber bie ginger an ben^ftunb? @o moltf id) bod), e§ mdren ®U)ftierfpri£en urn beinet= mitten! — [£rom))etenfto{j. $)er SDfcoIjrl 3d) fenne fein (Signal. 20(£af. (Sr ifW. 2)e§b. SBir motten iijin entgegen, iljn empfangen. (Saf. S)a fomnxt er fd)on. Dtfjetto fommt mit ®efofge. 25 £)tlj. £ meine Ijolbe ^rieg’rin! $)e§b. 9ftein Dtljetfo! £)tt)- (Sin SBunber biinft mid)% grojj luie nteinc grettbe, ^)id) fytx p fet/n Dor ntir. £) mein (Sntpcfen! SSenn iebent ©turrn fo Ijeifre ©tide folgt, 30 ®ann blaft, Orlane, bi£ ben Zob iljr medt! ®ann ftintme, ©d)iff, bie SBogenberg’ binan, t od) mie Dlt)ntp, unb taud) ? ^inunter tief itnt ©runb ber §otte! ®atf e§ }e£t p fterben, 3eld mar’ mir r 3 X)6d)fte SBonne; benn id) fiirdjte, 35 @o oode§ 9Kaf$ ber greube fitttt ntein £)e% $)afj nie ein anbre§ (Stud ntir, biefern gleid), 3nt ©d)ofc ber Qufunft §arrt S)e§b. Sgerijute ©ott, $)af) unfre £ieb* unb ®!itcf nid)t fodten madjfen, 40 28ie unfrer £age galjl! 0tb. 2lnten, ib)r bolben ^ftadjte! — ■Sftidjt auSpfaredjen meifc id) biefe 28onne, §ier ftodt e§; o, e§ ift p Diet ber greube! 26 4 * OTHELLO- And this, and this, the greatest discords he {Kissing her . That e’er our hearts shall make! lago. [aside] 0 , you are well tuned now! But I’ll set down the pegs that make this music, 5 As honest as I am. Oth. Come, let us to the castle. News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks are drown’d. How does my old acquaintance of this isle? Honey, you shall be well desir’d in Cyprus; 10 I’ve found great love amongst them. 0 my sweet, I prattle out of fashion, and I dote In mine own comforts. — I pr’ythee, good lago, Go to the bay and disembark my coffers; Bring thou the master to the citadel; 15 He is a good one, and his worthiness Does challenge much respect. —Come, Desdemona, Once more, well met at Cyprus. [Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants. lago (To a Servant.) Do thou meet me presently at the 20 harbour, (to Rodehigo.) Come hither. If thou he’st valiant, — as, they say, base men being in love have then a nobi- lity in their natures more than is native to them,— list me. The lieutenant to-night watches on the court- of-guard first, I must tell thee this— Desdemona is 25 directly in love with him. Rod. With him! why, ’tis not possible. lago. Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instruc- ted. Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor, hut for bragging and telling her fantastical 30 lies: and will she love him still for prating? let not thy discreet heart think it. 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 to give 35 satiety a fresh appetite, — loveliness in favour, sym- pathy in years, manners and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find it- self abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and 40 abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct her in it, and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted, — as it is a most pregnant and unfor- 27 Ptfretto. * Unb bie§, unb bie§, ber grofde TOftflartg fei% S)en unfer $er^ je tout. ’ [@r umarmt fie. Qago. (Seifeite.) 9?od) feib i^r mofjlqeftimmt, 3)odj btefe§ (Einflattgg SSirbel fpann' id) aft, 5 @o toaljr id) ef)ritd) bin. Otfj. . (M) r n roir auf r § ©djlofi. — 2Biftt itjr’S? 3)cr ®rieg ift cm3, ber ZnxV ertranf. S&ie ben alien greunbert Ijier anf (Et)pern? — Siebdjen, bid) ftrirb man fjodj in (Eljrett fallen, 0 gd) fanb §ier grofce ©unft. € fiifeeg £erj, 3d) fd)t ratje alle§ burdj einanber, fdjmdrme 3nt neuen (Sliicf. — Qd) bitf bid), guter Qago, @e^ nad) ber S3ud)t unb fdjaff’ an r § Sanb bie ®iften; S3 ring* aud) ben ©djiffSljerrn mir $ur (Eitabelle; 5 (E§ ift ein ttmcfrer ©eemanrt, be§ SSerbienft 3^ fort) belo^neit ntufj. domin’, $>e§bemona, 9?od)ntal§ begritjjt in (Eluent ! [Dtijello, SDeSbcmotta mtb ©efolge ab. Sago. U',u einent Sietter.) ®et)’ bu fogleidj pm .ft a fen unb 0 ermarte mid) bort. (Su atobrigo.) Somm’ nciber. SBenn bu ein URantt bift — benn man jaat, bafj aud) Tyetge, rnenn fie berliebt finb, fid) p boberer ©efimtung erfjeben, at8 itjnen angeboreit mar — fo bore mid) an. Set Sieutenant bat biefe 9iad)t bie SBudje auf bem (2 cf) f o f;E) o f : — oorerft aber 5 muf; icf) bir fagen: SeSbemona ift ricbtiq in ibn berliebt. 9? o b. Sn it)n ? unmogtid). Sago. Seg’ beinen Singer — fo; unb laff bicf) betebren, Sreunb: befinne bicE) nur, mie beftig fie perft ben 9Ro|ren Iiebte, nur meit er pra^Ite unb ibr unerborte Sitgen auf= 0 tifd)te. SBirb fie ibn imnter fur fein ©djmafcen lieben? Sas tann beine berftanbige ©eete nicfjt gtauben molten. Sb r Stuge bertangt 9tat)rung, unb meidfeS SBoblgefatten fann ibr ! ? gemabren, ben Seufet anpfeb’n? SBenn baS 93tut burd) ben ©enuff abgetiibtt ift, bann bebarf e§, urn fidb 5 aufS neue ju entftammen unb ber ©attigunq neue Beqier p meden, 9lnmut ber ©eftatt, Uebereinftimmung in Sabren, ©efittuna unb ©djonbeit; unb an bem alien feMt’8 bem SWobren. SRun, beim 9Ranqet alter biefer erfebnten vtnnebmlid)teiten mirb ibr feiner ©inn fid) getaufd)t fiiditen * » fie mirb beSTOobren erft fatt, bann itberbruffig merben unb enbltd) ibn berabfd)euen; bie iRatur fetbft mirb fie anleiten unb fte p einer neuen SBabt treiben. $Run, Sreunb, biefeS eingeraumt — mie e§ benn eine ganj enoiefene unb unge= 27 OTHELLO. ced position, — who stands so eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio does? a knave very voluble; no further conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming, for the better com- 5 passing of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why, none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave; a finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the knave is handsome, young, 10 and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman hath found him already. Rod. I cannot believe that in her; she’s full of most blessed condition. 1 5 Iago. Blessed fig’s-end ! the wine she drinks is made of grapes : if she had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding ! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst not mark that? 20 Rod. Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy. Iago. Lechery, by this hand; and index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together. Villanous thoughts, Koderigo! 25 when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incor- porate conclusion: Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to- night: for the command, I’ll lay’t upon you. Cassio 30 knows you not. I’ll not be far from you: do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking | too loud, or tainting his discipline ; or from what other course you please, which the time shall more - favourably minister. 35 Rod. Well. Iago. Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you : provoke him, that he may ; for even out of that will 1 cause these of Cyprus to mutiny ; whose qualification shall come into no true taste again 40 but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a i shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them ; and the impediment most 28 sDttjetto. ittmttgene SorauSfefcung ift - mer ftejt mo1)l fo gemifs auf ber ©tufe biefe? ©tiicfs alS ©affio? $er SSube ift fetjr aemanbt qemiffenf)aft nur fo roeit, atS er bie aufeere »orm eine« fittfamen unb gebitbeten 33etragen§ annimmt, um feme 5 toderen, gebeimeit, toilben fjleigungen um fo leister p be= friebiqen. — SKein, feiner, teiner 1 ein glatter, gefdptetbtger Sube; ein ©e(egenf)eitSf)afd)er, beffenJBltdJBorteUe jjragt unb fatfcbmimp menn felbft fein rotrfitdier Sorted barbietet: ein SeufelSbube ! itberbem tft ber gube Jubfd), 0 funq unb bat alte bie ©rforberniffe, monad) 5E|orf)eit unb gritner Serftanb f|infd)ielen : ein nerbainmter, au8gemad)ter Sube ! unb fie fiat ifm fdjon auSgefunben. 5Rob. ®a§ faun id) Oon if)r md)t glauben, fie ift Bon t)od>ft fittfamer ©eftmtung . 5 ^aao. ©dfabe ma§ um ©ittfame ! ber 2Bein, ben fte trmft, ift au§ Srauben gefcrejjt; mare fie fo fittfam, bann 'latte fte nie ben fOtobren tieben tonnen : fittfam f)in unb ber! ©aMt bu nidjt, mie fie mit feiiter fladjen £>anb tatfajeite? -paft bu ba§ nid)t bemerft? >0 9ft ob\ D fa; aber ba§ mar nur £mfnd)fett. an o. Serbu|lt|eit, bei biefer fmnb! — ©me ©mleitung unb buntfer f(5rofogu§ pm ©djaufbiel ber 2uft unb ber fcbnoben ©ebanfen. ©ie famen fid) fo nat) mit tbren Ben, baff it)f 6aud) fid) IieWofte. Siibifdie ©ebnn!en, JRo= >b briqo! Sfientt biefe Sertraulid)feiten fo ben 2Beg bafinen, fo torn nit qleid) binterbrein ber gmed unb bie VluSubung, ber fteifdffidie S3efct)tufe ; be? - «ber greunb lafe bit raten — id) tjabe bid) Bon Senebtg |ergefuf)rt. ©te| beute S*ladit mit 2Bad)e; id) netjme e§ auf mid), btr bemen 50 Soften anpmeifen: ©affio fennt bid) nid)t; id) merbe nidjt meit fein: finbe nur eine ©elegenbeit, ©affio pin 8orn p reken, fei’3 burc| lauteS ffteben, ober burd) ©fmtt uber feme 9Rann?pdjt, ober meld)en anberu ?tn(af; bit fonft ma|r= nimrnft, ben bie giinftige geit bir ebett barbietet. 35 s J£ob. ®Ut. . . ' Qaqo. (£r ift ^eftig unb fe^r ja^ormg unb fdjlagt meUetdjt mit jeinem ©tabe nad) bir; rei^e i£)n nur, baft tque, benn ba§ geniigt mir fdjon, um bic (St)prier $um vlufrugr m brinqen, ber nid)t ttrieber 6efd)U>id)tigt toerbeit faun, aI3 burd) (£affio r 3 2t6fefeung. @o finbeft bu einen fitment 28eg m beinem Biel burd) bie Vittel, bie id) bann tjabe, bir feorjdjub gu t£)un; unb toir fdjajfen ba§ ©inberniS au§ bem OTHELLO. profitably removed, without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity. Rod. I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity. Iago . I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel: 5 I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell. Rod. Adieu. [Exit. Iago. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; That she loves him, ’tis apt and of great credit: 10 The Moor (howbeit that I endure him not) Is of a constant, loving, noble nature; And I dare think he’ll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband. Now, I do love ber too; Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure 15 I stand accountant for as great a sin, But partly led to diet my revenge, For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leap’d into my seat ; the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards; 20 And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even’d 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, 25 If this poor trash of Venice, whom 1 trash 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 night-cap too; 30 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 confus’d : Knavery’s plain face is never seen till us’d. [Exit. Scene II. A Street. Enter a Herald with a proclamation ; People following 40 Her. It is Othello’s pleasure, our noble and valiant gene- ral, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put him- elf into triumph; some to choice, some to make bon- gs Othello. 2Bege, obne beffen SBeftegung fein ©rfolg ertoartet toerbeu barf. 9?ob. 3)a§ toiE id) tbun, menu bu ntir ©elegenbeit giebft. 3 ago. $)afiir fteb* id) bir. $ontm" nur fogleid) auf bie 5 ©ttabeEe, id) tnufe febt fein ©e^acf an§ Sanb fdjaffen. Seb" tool)!! 9$ob. ©ott befoblen! — [2U>. Sago, ©ajfio fie liebt, ba§ glaub" id) tool)!; $)afj fte xt)u liebt, ift benfbar unb naturlid). 10 £)er Eftobr (obfd)on id) ibm Oon §er§ett gram) Sft liebeO oiler, treuer, ebler E!rt Unb toirb fur S)e§bentona, benf id), ftd)er ©in toacfrer ©b'manit. Setd lieb’ id) fie aud); Ettdjt par au§ Sufternljeit — toietoobl EieEeid)t 15 EUcbt flein're @iinbe mir p ©dplben fommt — Eton, mebr urn meine Etod)" an ibm p toeiben, 2Beit id) Oermute, baft ber ii^ r ge 2ftofjr EKir in§ ©ebege !ant: unb ber ©ebante Etogt toie ein freffenb ©ift an meinem Snnern; 20 EHd)t§ !ann unb foE mein ®erj berubigen, E3i§ id) fym toett getoorben, EBeib urn ^SSeib ; Dber. fd)Iagt Me§'mir febt, bring" id) ben Eftobren Sn ©iferfudjt fo toilber Etrt, baff nie $ernunft fie ^eilen !ann. $)ie§ p ooEbringen — 25 £)d!t nur mein ®bter Oou ESenebig ©tanb, 2) en icf) mir fob"re p ber fdpeEen Qagb — $ad r id) ben Ettidjael ©affio bet ber $ufte, ESerfdjtoara’ ibn bann bem ERojfjren al3 gefa^rlid) ; 3) enn ©affio fiirdjt 7 id) and) fur mein ©efbon§. 30 ©o band Dfl)eEo mir% debt tnid), betobnt mid), ^)afe id) fo ftattlid) ibn pm ©fel mad)te Unb feine EUd)" unb greub" ibm untergrub gum ESabnfinn. — Qa, bier liegt’3, nod) nicfjt entfaltet; ®ie E3o§beit toirb burd) X$at erft gan^ geftattet. [%b. 35 -Broetfc Sejtte. ©ine ©trafte. (Sin £e rotb tritt auf. 40 £er. ($§ ift Duello’S, unfreS ebleit unb tapfern ©enerals aBunjd), baft auf bie juoertiiffige, jefct ehtgegangene fKacfc rtc£)t Bon ber ganjltcf)en SSernid)tung ber turfMen fflotte jebermann feine ffreube !unb tijue ; fei es burd) Sanj obcr 20 OTHELLO. fires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there 5 is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the hell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello! [ Exeunt . 10 Scene HI. A Hall in the Castle. Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio and Attendants. Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night: 15 Let’s teach ourselves that honourable stop, Not to outsport discretion. Cas. Iago hath direction what to do; But, notwithstanding, with mv personal eye Will I look to t. 20 Oth. Iago is most honest. Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest Let me have speech with you. [To Desdemona.] Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits ’are to ensue; 25 That profit’s yet to come ’tween me and you. Good night. [Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attend. Enter Iago. Cas. Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch. 30 Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant; ’tis not yet ten o’ the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for Jove. 35 Cas. She’s a most exquisite lady. Iago. And, I’ll warrant her, full of game. Cas. Indeed, she’s a most fresh and delicate creature. Iago. What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of provocation. 40 Cas. An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest. Iago . And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love ? 30 £tfjcK o. Suftfeuer, ober trie ibn fonft feine 9?eigung §u (Spiel unb $urp>cit treibt; benn aufser jenent erfreuliajen ©reigni§ feiert er f)eute feine pod)§eit : foIdje§ mirb auf jeinen S3efept au§gerufen. 9lIXe ©ale be§ $alafte§ ftnb geoffnet, unb botie 5 greif)eit p ©djmauS unb fjeft bon jet)t fiinf IXpr an, bi§ bie elfte ©tmtbe gefd)Iagen. $)er pintmel fegne bie gnfel ©tpern unb unfern eblen (General £)tbetto. [3t&. 10 Drttte %nc. © cp l o ft. Otfjello, 3)e§bemona, (£ a f f i o uitb ©efolgc trcten auf. £)tf). 9Kein lieber TOdjael, ^alf ja genaue 2Bad)e biefeSftadjt. 15 SSir miiffen felbft auf etjrbar 2 D?aj 3 bebad)t fein, £)af 3 nid)t bie £uft itnbcinbig merbe. ©af. S a go marb fdfon befebugt, ma§ p tftim ; ®ocf) aufjerbem nocb fott mein eigne§ 2tuge Wuf ade3 feb’n. 20 £)tb- Qago ift treu bemabrt. ©ut’ 9^acf)t ! auf morgen mit bem friipeften pab 7 id) niit bir p reben. (p ©csbcmona) $omm r , ©e= Xxebte $)en $rei§ erring! fid), mer ben panbet fd)Ioft ; 25 2Bir teilen ibn, mein ftolber SJiitgenofj. © u f 5^ad)t. [Othello, 3De§bemona unb ©efolge ab. Sago tritt auf. ©af. 28idfomnten, Qago! mtr miiffen auf bie 2Bad)e. 30 Set 00. Qe^t nod) niajt, Sieutenant ; e§ ift nod) nidjt ^ebn Ut)r. Unfer ©eneral fcXjicft un§ fo friip fort au3 Siebe p feiner S)e§bemona, unb tnir bitrfen ibn brum nieftt tabeln; e§ ift feine erfte gliidtidje S^adit, unb fie ift Supiter^ miirbig. 35 ©af. ©ie ift eine unt>ergteid)lid)e gran. Saao. Hub bafiir ftep 7 id), fie bat geuer. ©af. ©emifs, fie ift ein blitt)enbe§, fitfte^ ©efd)o£>f. Sago. SBeXcft 7 ein 5Xuae! 9DUr fefieint e§ mie ein 5tufrnf mr SSerfiibrung. 40 ©af. ©in etnlabenbe§ 2tuge; nub bod), mie mir febeint, ein bod) ft fittfameS. Qago. Unb menu fie fprid)t, iff§ nieftt eine peranSforbernng pr Siebe? 30 OTHELLO. Cas. She is, indeed, perfection. /ago. Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to 5 the health of black Othello. Cas. Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and un- happy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. 10 Iago . 0, they are our friends; but one cup: I’ll drink for you. Cas. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation it makes here : I am unfortunate in the informity, and dare 15 not task my weakness with any more. Iago. What, man! ’tis a night of revels: the gallants de- sire it. Cas. Where are they? Iago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. 20 Cas. I’ll do’t; but it dislikes me. [Exit. Iago. 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 As my young mistress’ dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo, 25 Whom love hath turn’d almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath to-night caroused Potations pottle-deep; and he’s to watch: Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honours in a wary distance, 30 The very elements of this warlike isle, Have I to-night fluster’d with flowing cups, And they watch too. Now, ’mongst this flock of drunk- Am I to put our Cassio in some action [ards, That may offend the isle. — But here they come: 35 If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. Re-enter Cassio, followed by Montano and Gentlemen ; Servants following with wine. 40 Cas. ’Fore heaven, they have given me a rouse already. Mon . Good faith, a little one ; not past a pint, as I am a soldier. 31 Ottjeffo. ©af. ©ie ift in ber SDjat bie $odfommenbeit felbft. Q a go. 9hm, £>eil ibrem 93ette ! ^omm’, lieutenant, id) babe etn ©titbd)en Sein nnb bier brau^en finb ein baar munfre Sungen au§ ©bbern, bte gern eine $lafd)e auf bie ©ejunb' 5 t)eit be£ fdjmar^en Duetto' au3fted)en molten. ©af. $ftid)t ^exxte 9tbenb, lieber Sago; id) §abe einen febr fdjmadjen, unglitdlid)en ®obf sum Xxinlen. 9ftir mdr’S lieb, menu bie §bflid)feit eine anbere ©itte ber Unterbaltung erfdnbe. 10 Sago. £) e§ finb gute^reunbe! Sfcur einen 23ed)er; id) mid fill* bid) trinten. ©af. S d) ^abe beute 2(benb nur einen SBedjer getrunten, ber nod) ba^u ftar! mit Laffer gemifd)t mar, nnb fietj 7 nur, mie eS mid) Derdnbert bat. 3d) b a fce leiber biefe ©djmadjbeit 15 nnb barf meinen ®raften nicbt mebr pmuten. Sago. ©i, Sieber, e§ ift ja gaftnadjt b^utel 3)ie jungcn Sente mitnfd)en eS. ©af. So finb fie? Sago. §ier Dor ber ^b^r; id) bitte bid), rufe fie herein. 20 ©af. 3d) mid’S tbun, aber eS gefd)iebt ungern. [@r gefjt afc. Sago. Senn id) ibm nur ©in ©Ia§ anfbrdngen faun git bent, maS er an biefent 21 ben b tranr, Sirb er fo DoTIer gant nnb Srger fein 2US einer 2)ame ©djofjbunb. — Sftobrigo nun, mein ©imbet, 25 $>en Siebe mie r nen fmnbfdjub umgemenbet, §at 3)eSbemonen mancben tiefen §umben f>eut jnbelnb fcbon geleert nnb muf) sur Sadje. $)rei jmtgen ©bbrern, b°ef)geftnnt xtnb rafdj, Sm $untt ber ©b re fed nnb leidjt gerei^t, 30 $em mabren 2lu§bunb bier ber mut’gen Sngenb, ©a b ; id) mit Doden gtafdjen &ugefefct; 4>ie mad)en aud). — 9?un, in ber trunfnen ©d)ar OMs 7 id) §errn ©affio mot)t $u foldjer Zfyat, S£)ie ade§ bier embbrt. — &od) ftid, fie fomnten. — 35 £>at nux maS jetd mein $obf erfinnt, 4)ann fdbrt mein ©d)iff mit Dodem ©trout nnb Sinb. (£§ fommert (£ affio, Montano unb meljrere (SbeUeute. 40 ©a). 9tuf @t)re, fiaben fie mir nidjt fcfjon einen fiieb t>eiqe= brad)t l ^ ^er mare flein! ftanm eine gtafdie, fo mabr id) etn ©otbat btnl f 1 ' 1 Si OTHELLO. Iago . Some wine, ho! [Sings. And let me the canakin clink, clink ; And let me the canakin clink: A soldier’s a man! 5 A life’s but a span ; Why, then, let a soldier drink. Some wine, boys! Cas. ’Fore God, an excellent song. Iago. I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are 10 most potent in potting: your Dane, your German/ and your swag-bellied Hollander — Drink, ho! — are no- thing to your English. Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking? Iago. Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead 15 drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can he filled. Cas. To the health of our general! Mon. 1 am for it, lieutenant ; and I’ll do you justice. 20 Iago. 0 sweet England! King Stephen was a worthy peer, [Sings. His breeches cost him but a crown; He held them sixpence all too dear, 25 With that he call’d the tailor lown. He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree: ’Tis pride that pulls the country down; 30 Then take thine auld cloak about thee. Some wine, ho ! Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. Iago. Will you hear ’t again ? Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that 35 does those things. Well, God’s above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. lag. It’s true, good lieutenant. Cas. For mine own part, — no offence to the general, 40 nor any man of quality, — I hope to be saved. Iago. And so do I too, lieutenant. Cas. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me ; the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let’s have no 32 DtfjetCo. Sago. 28ein fa%\ [©itigt. ©tofh an mit bent ©fafefein, fling! fling! ©tofjt an mit bent ©fafefein, ffinqt! 3)er ©olbat ift ein 9ttann, 5 ©a§ fieben etn’ ©bann r , $)rum fuftig, ©ofbaten, nnb trinft! 2Bein ber, 23urfd)en!' — ©af. 2Iuf (Sbre, etn afferfiebfte§ £ieb. Sago. 3$ ^cib r § tn (Sngfanb gefernt, too fie, ba§ mufs ntan 10 fagen, fid) getoaftig anf ba& ^Becfjern Oerftefjen. (Suer SDane, euer 2)eutfd)er, euer bicfbducljiger ^offanber, — p trinfen, be! — finb atle nidjt§ gegen ben (Sngfanber. (Saf. 3ft bentt ber ©ngfanber fo fef)r au^bitnbig int trinfen ? Sago. (Si toobf! ben $)anen trinft er end) nth ©entdd)fid)= 15 feit untern £ifd); e§ toirb ibjn toenig angreifen, ben ®eut= fdjen fa^ott p tnad)en; nnb ben §offdnber pingt er pr tlebergabe, e| r ber nddjfte §ttmben gefiilft toerben fann. (Saf. $uf unfreS ©ottnerttettrS ©efmtbbeit! SCftont. i)a trinf id) mit, lieutenant, nnb id) tuiU end) 20 fdfeib tbun. Sugo £> ba§ fiebe (Sngfanb! — [@iugt. $bnig ©te^^an toar ein toad’rer §efb, (Sine $rone foftef ibnt fein 3fod: £)a§ fanb er unt fed) 3 ©rot gep refit 25 Hnb fdjaft ben ©d)neiber einen S3ocf. Hnb toar ein fjurft non grower $iad)t, Hnb bn bift fold) 7 geringer learnt: ©tol§ ^ at ntandj* §au§ p gaff gebrad)t, 30 S)rum pb’ ben aften Vittel an. 28ein ber, fag’ id)! — (Saf. (Si, ba§ Sieb ift nod) nief berrfidfer af§ ba§ erfte. Sago. feoUt if)r 7 § nod)ntaf§ pren? (Saf. S'ceitt, benn id) glattbe, ber ift feiner ©teffe untoiirbig, 35 ber fo toa§ tbut. — 28ie gefagt, — ber gimntef ift itber un§ alien; — nnb e§ finb ©eefen, bie mitffen fefig toerben — nnb anbre, bie mitffen n:d)t fefig toerben. So go. ©ef)r toabr, Ueber Sieutenant. (Saf- 3d) meineSteifS - obne bem ©eneraf ober fonft einer 40 boben $ erf on norpgreifen — id) boffe, felig p toerben. t ago. Hnb id) and), lieutenant, af. 5lber, mit eurer (SrfaubniS, niebt nor mir — ber Sieute* nant mu& nor bem Sdbnbrid) fefig toerben. $un genng 32 OTHELLO. more of this ; let’s to our affairs. — 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: I am 5 not drunk now ; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough. All. Excellent well. Cas. Why, very well, then; you must not think, then, that 10 I am drunk. [Exit. Mon. To the platform, masters ; come, let’s set the watch. /ago. 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; 15 ’Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as th’ other: ’tis pity of him. I fear the trust Othello puts him in, On some odd time of his infirmity, Will shake this island. 20 Mon. But is he often thus? /ago. ’Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep: He’ll watch the horologe a double set, If drink rock not his cradle. Mon. It were well 25 The general were put in mind of it. Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio, And looks not on his evils: is not this true? 20 Enter Roderigo. lago. [aside to him\ How now, Roderigo! I pray you, after the lieutenant ; go ! [Exit Roderigo. Mon. And ’tis great pity that the noble Moor 35 Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft infirmity: It were an honest action to say So to the Moor. Iago . Not I, for this fair island: 40 I do love Cassio well; and would do much To cure him of this evil. — But, hark! what noise? [Cry within'. “Help! help!” Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo. 33 gHfjeHo. pieoon ; rnir to oil ert auf unfre ^often — $ergieb un§ unfre 6itnben! — 9fteine ^errtt, mir moKen ttad) unferm ®ienft fep'u. — Qfyr miipt nid)t glauben, meine £>erren, bap id) be= trunfen jei — bie$ ift mein $apnbrid), — bie§ ift meine 5 red)te £anb — bie§ meine tinte §anb — id) bin alfo nid)t betrunfen; id) ftepe nod) $iemlid) gut unb fpredje nod) jiemlid) gut. 9t 1 1 e. ftuperorbentlid) gut. (£af. 9?un, red)t gut atfo; tpr miipt atfo nid)t tneinen, baft 10 id) betrunfen jet. [®r getjt at>. 9ft ont. 3ept gitr Xerraffe; lafet bie SBadjen ft e Ken ! 3 ago. 3) a fept ben jitngen 9ftann, ber eben ging ! — (£in $rieger, to ert, beirn ©afar fetbft ( ^u ftep’n Unb befeplen; bod) ipr fept fein Softer: 15 . (£§ ift ba§ 9tequinoftium feiner £uqeitb, (£in§ gan^ bem anbern ateid). '3 ift 6d)ab’ urn it)it! £)a§ gutrau’n, fiircpf icq, ba§ ber 9ftopr ipnt fcpenft, SBringt (£t)pern Ungliicf, trifft bie 6d)mad)peit ipn Qtt ungeleg'ner 6tunbe. 20 9ft ont. 3ft er oft fo? 3ago. @o ift er immer bor bem ©cptafengep'n: (£r ioad)t be$ Qeiger§ UmfreiS §tt>eimal butd), 5Biegt ipn ber Xrunt nid)t ein. 9ft out. $)amt mar' e§ gut, 25 9ftan melbete ben $att bem General; $BieKeid)t, bap er'§ nid)t fiept; bieKeid)t gemaprt 6ein gute3 |>erft bie Xugettb nur am ©affio, Unb ipm entgep'n bie gepler ; ift ? £ nid)t fo? — oq 9tobrigo tritt auf. 3 ago (6eifeite>. 2$a§ foH r 3, ftobrigo? 3dt bitf end), folgt bem Sieutenant nad) — fo gept! [tftobrtgo a&. 9ft ont. Unb maprtid) ilfe! $ttfe! (5afjio fornmt auriitf unb berfotgt belt 3tob rtgo. 5 OTHELLO. 10 15 20 Cas. You rogue! you rascal! Mon. What’s the matter, lieutenant? Cas. A knave teach me my duty ! I’ll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle. Rod. Beat me ! Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue? [ Striking Roderigo. Mon. Nay, good lieutenant ; [Staying him. I pray you, sir, hold your hand. Cas. Let me go, sir, Or I’ll knock you o’er the mazard. Mon. Come, come, you’re drunk. Cas. Drunk! [They fight, dago, [aside to Roderigo] Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny! [Exit Roderigo. Nay, good lieutenant, — alas, gentlemen ; — Help, ho! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — sir; — Help, masters ! — Here’s a goodly watch indeed ! [Bell rings. Who’s that which rings the bell? — Diablo, ho! The town will rise: — God’s will, lieutenant, hold; You will be sham’d for ever. Re-enter Othello and Attendants. Oth. What is the matter here? Mon. ’Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death. 25 [Faints. Oth. Hold, for your lives! dago. Hold, ho ! Lieutenant, — sir, - Montano, — gentlemen, Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, for shame! 30 Oth. Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this? Are we turn’d Turks, and to ourselves do that Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl: He that stirs next to carve for his own rage 35 Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle From her propriety. What is the matter, masters? Honest Iago, that look’st dead with grieving, Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee. 40 dago. I do not know: friends all but now, even now, In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom Devesting them for bed; and then, hut now, (As if some planet had unwitted men), 34 Otfjetfo. (£af. 3>u £umb! $)it Xblpel! 9ft ont. 9?un, mag ift end), lieutenant? (£af. 3)er ©djurTe! ^flid)t mid) tebren? 2Barf, in eine $orbf(afdje priigl 7 id) i^n fyinein, ben 3Bid)t! — 5 9?ob. s JSJiid) prugeln? (£af. 9ttudft bu* $ert? 9Jc o it t. ©till, tieber lieutenant ! [@r rtatt ben £ a f f i o auutcf. 3d) bitf eud), tjaltet ein ! ©af. §err, lafet mid) geb’tt, 10 ©onft ftetd)n r id) eure gfto&e — ont. ©ebt, ibr feib trunfen! — (£af. Xruttfen? [@ie fedjten. 3 a go. grort, fag T id)! (Ceifc &u3?obrigo.) ©if unb rnfe 90leu- terei ! [9t o b r i g o ab. 15 ©till bod), §err fiientenant! ©till bod), liebe £>errn! £>e, $ulfe! Sieutenant, — §e rr, — Montano, — $err! — |>etft, 9tod)barn! — s Jtun, bag ift r ne faub’re 28ad)e! feer ^ieb)t bie ©lode benn? £), ®iat)oio ! $)ie ©tabt mirb mad) — ^fui, ui bod), lieutenant! l)att! 20 3bt titadjt end) em'ge ©d)anbe. Othello fommt mit (Sefotge. £)tb- 9$ag giebt eg t)ier? — 9)1 ont. Qd) blnte! ©r traf inid) tottid)! ©terben foft er! 25 [93rirftt auf (tinmen. £tt). 33ei eurem Sebett, t)att ! — 3 a g o. ftalt, lieutenant ! £>err ! — Montano, — Hebe £>errn, — $ergaf)t if)t atten ©inn fiir 9?ang unb $ftid)t? — £>alt! b^t ben (General! £) fdjdmt eud)! bfdt! — 30 Dtb- $8ag giebt eg b icr ? 28ober entfpann fid) bieg? ©ittb nur benn Xiirfen? £bun ung felber bag, 28ag ben Unglctubigen ber pummel mebrte? ©cbdtnt eud) alg ©griften! &af)t eu r r beibnifd) ^aufen! $3er fid) nod) riibrt unb jauntt nid)t feine 58 ut, 35 3)er )oagt fein £eben bran! ein ©d)ritt ift Stob. ©till tnit bent ©turmgeldut! ©g fd)redt bie 3nfel 9lug ibrer gaffung. 58ag gefebab, ib^ §errn? ©brlidjcr 3ago, bu fiebft bleidj nor ©rain; ©prid), mer bub an? 23ei beiner 8ieb T , id) mitfg. 10 3 ago. 3^) weift nid)t. 3reunbe jet)t rtod), jc|U im s J?u, £iebreidj unb gut mie SBrfiutigatn unb 53raut, 58enn fie $u 58ette geb’n: unb brauf im 9?u (?(lg ob fie b^tid)' ein planet nermirrt), Si 5* OTJlHiJLiiO. Swords jac, and tilting one at other’s breast, In opposition bloody. I cannot speak Any beginning to this peevish odds: And would in action glorious I had lost 5 Those legs that brought me to a part of it! Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? Cas. I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak. Oth . Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil; The gravity and stillness of your youth 10 The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths 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 it. 15 Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger: Your officer, lago, can inform you — While I spare speech, which something now offends Of all that I do know: nor know I aught By me that’s said or done amiss this night; 20 Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin When violence assails us. Oth. Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule; 25 And passion, having my best judgement collied, Assays to lead the way: if I once 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; 30 And he that is approv’d in this offence, Though he had twinn’d with me, both at a birth, Shall lose me. — What ! in a town of war, Yet wild, the people’s hearts brimful of fear, To manage private and domestic quarrel, 35 In night, and on the court and guard of safety! ’Tis monstrous. — lago, who began’t? Mon. If partially affin’d, or leagu’d in office, Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier. 40 lago. Touch me not so near: I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio; Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth Metro. $>ct§ ©d)tuert l)evau§, unb auf eutanber ftedjenb Qnt blufgen SBiberftreit. Jgd) faun nid)t fagem $Me biefer nmnbcrlid)e $amf)f begattn, Unb ^att’ in guter 0d)!ad)t bie SBeine tieber 5 $8erlorert, bie ba^u Berber mid) trngen. Dtt). 3Bie, (£affio, fant’s baft bn bid)* fo bergafeeft? £ ft f* Qd) bit? eud), §err, beneibt, id) famt nid)t rebett. £ SBitrb'ger SMontan, ibr fdjient mir fouft gefittet ; ®ie fftub’ unb eble £>a!tung eurer Qugenb 10 $Prie3 aUe 2£e!t, unb euer Sftame prarigte 3 m Sob ber SBeifeu: fagt ntir benn, mie fant’3, ^afj ibr fo abgeftreift ben guten fftuf, Unb eure§ SettmunbS Sfteid)tum fiir ben tauten $e§ ndd)t r gen $Raufer§ l)imuerft? ©ebt mir $!ntmort! 15 9ft out. SSiirb’ger Duetto, id) bin fdjmer bermunbet; (£mr’ gdbnbrid) Qago fann end) 9Mbung tfjun — 9ftir fdttt ba§ Rebett fdjroer, id) fparf e§ gern — $on allern, tpa§ id) meifj - bod) nmfjf id) nid)t, SBoriu id) mid) in 2Bort nod) £b&t berfitnbigt; 20 28enn 0c!bfterbaltung uicfjt ein grebe! ift, Unb nnfer Seben fd)ii^en ein $ergcb 7 n, $Bamt un§ ©ernalt bebroljte. £tb- 9hm, beint pummel! 9ftein $3lut beginnt $u meiftent bie $ernitnft, 25 Unb Seibenfdjaft, mein belief Urteil triibenb, 9ftaf}t fid) ber giibrung an. 9feg r id) mid) erft, ISrbeb 7 id) nur ben 2!rm, bann foil ber $efte %ox meinent 0treid)e fallen. Xbut mir funb, 58ie lam ber fd)nbbe ganf? 2Ber brad)t 7 ibn auf? 10 2Ber immer bier berfdjutbet bie§ $ergeb 7 n — 3Bdr 7 er ntir b!ut§benuanbt, mein BtuiEingSbruber — SSerliert mid). — . . . 2Sa§! 3n ber geftung felbft — $olf, nod) nngemift, bon ftngft betdubt — ^ribatgeftdnf unb $dnbel anjuftiften, >5 £>ei ftad)t, unb auf be§ 0d)lof)e§ boc^fter 2Bad)e! — ^ ift ungebeuer! — 3ago, rner begattn? s 3)iont. $Bei* bier parteiifcl) ober biehftbefreunbet 5Q2ebr ober minber a!§ bie SBabrbeit ffmdjt, 3ft feiu 0olbat. 0 3 a fl o. ®a, (egt ntir’3 nicbt fo ttabM — 3d) biifete ja bie gunge lieber ein, 9113 baf 3 fie gegen 9ftid)ae! (£affio ^eugte; ^)od) glaub 7 id) feft, bie SSabrbeit reben bringt 85 OTHELLO. Shall nothing wrong him. — Thus it is, general. Montano and myself being in speech, There comes a fellow crying out for help; And Cassio following him with determin’d sword 5 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, 10 Outran my purpose; and I return’d the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night I ne’er might say before. When I came back, — For this was brief, — I found them close together, 15 At blow and thrust; even as again they were When you yourself did part them. More of this matter cannot I report : — But men are men; the best sometimes forget: — Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, — 20 As men in rage strike those that wish them best, — Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, receiv’d From him that tied some strange indignity, Which patience could not pass. Oth. I know, Iago, 25 Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, Making it light to Cassio. — Cassio, 1 love thee; But never more be officer of mine. Re-enter Desdemona, attended. 30 Look, if my gentle love be not raised up! — I’ll make thee an example. Des. What’s the matter? Oth. All’s well now, sweeting; come away to bed. — Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon : 35 Lead him off. [To Montano, who is led off. Iago, look with care about the town, And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.— Come, Desdemona: ’tis the soldiers’ life To have their balmy slumbers wak’d with strife. 40 [Exeunt all except Iago and Cassio. Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? Cas Ay, past all surgery. Iago. Marry, heaven forbid! 0& Dtfjetfo. 3tjm leinen SRadjteit. — ©o g efd)at)% mein getbfterr: Qd) unb Montano maren int ©efftrad), $a lommt eiu 9ttenfd), ber taut um ©iitfe fdjreit; Unb (£ajfio folgt i^nt mit ge^itdtem ©djmert, 5 3f)tt §u nermunben; brauf trat biefer §err Sajfto entgegen, bat iftn, ftiff $u fern; Unb id) bermeit nerfotgte jenen ©djreier, $amit feln s Jiuf nid)t (mie e§ bod) gefdjalj) $)ie ©tabt erfdjrede. Qener f teid)t ju 3utft, 0 ©uttief mir; unb id) lefjrte um jo fdjnetter, 3Beit id) (Mtirr unb 3Baffentarnt nernaftm Unb (Saffio'§ taute§ gtudjen, ma§ bi§ tjeut 3d) uie non rt)in geftort; at§ id) gurlxct tarn — Unb bie§ mar gteid) — fanb id) fie ftart jufammen 15 §ivtf £>ieb unb ©toft: gan$, mie ba§ gmeitemat, 3t(3 iftr fie fel6er trenntet. 9M)r non bent forfait ift mir nid)t befannt; — $)od) 9£tfenfd) ift 9D£enfd), ber 33efte fefttt einntal; Unb ob it) irt ©affio gleid) ^u nat) get^an — ?0 3Sie man in 3But ben beften grennb ja fd)tdgt — — $od) benf id), marb non bent, ber ftotj, an (£affio ©o grofte ^rantnng mot)t geitbt, at§ !anm ®ebutb ertragen ntag. Dtt). 3d) meift, 3ago, lb 9(it3 Sieb’ unb 33ra0t)eit fdfmiicfft bn biefe ©ad)e ' , Unb mitber’ft fie fitr (Safjto. — (£affio, id) tiebe bid); 9tttein mein lieutenant bift bn tcinger nid)t. — S)e§bemoita tomrnt mit © e f o I g e. 50 ©etjt! marb mein tiebe§ 38eib nid)t and) gemedt! — — $>u fottft ein 33eiff.net fcin. e$b. 3Sa§ ging fti er nor, ntein Xeurer? ti ift atte§ gut fdjott, £iebd)eit! — fomm’ $u 33ett! 3d) felbft mitt 3Ir§t feitt, §err, fitr extre 38unben. — 3ut)rt it)tt nad) £>au§. [Montano mivb meggefitfjvt. $u, 3ago, fiet)’ mit ©orgfatt auf bie ©tabt, Unb fd)micf)t r ge, men ber fdjttbbe Sdrnt gedngftet. — ®ontm, 3)e§bentona; oft int $riegerteben 38irb fitter ©d)taf ber ©tormtg ftretegegeben. [2Ute ab; e§ bleibcn S«go unb (Safi to. ago. ©eib itjr nermunbet, lieutenant? af. D ja! fo, baft fein 3(r^t mir ftitft ! — ago. (£i, ba§ oertjute ber ^iminet! OTHELLO. Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation J 0, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself and what remains is bestial. — My reputation, Iago, m\ reputation! o Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false impo- sition ; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving : you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourselt 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 than in malice; even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue to him again, and 10 he’s yours. Cas. I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and 20 squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow? — 0 thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil ! 2 5 Iago. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you? Cas. I know not. Iago . Is ’t possible? Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing dis- 30 tinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. — 0 God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, plea- sance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts! 35 Iago. 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. 4 ° Iago. Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen ; but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. 37 Dtfjelfo, (£af. (fitter 9£ame ! ®uter darnel ©utfcr Mantel 0, id) fjabe metnen guten tauten toertoren! ,3$ f)abe ba§ uufterbtidje £eit tm it mir felbft Oerforen, imb ma§ iibrig bteibt, ift tie- rifd). — ^ceiit guter 9kme, 3 a 9 o, mein outer darnel 5 3 a go. ©o mat)r id) ein etjrlidjer 9ftann bin, id) bad)te, bu tjtitteft eine fbrpertidje 2Bunbe empfangen, unb ba§ bebeutet metjr, at§ mil bent guten tauten. $)er gute $ftante ift eine nid)tige unb t)bd)ft triigfidje (Sinbitbung, oft otjne $erbienft ertangt, unb otjne ©d)ulb oertoren. 3Du ^aft liberal! gar 10 teinen guten tauten Oertoren, menu bu nid)t an biefen $8er= tuft glaubft. 9Jhtt, greunb ! e§ giebt ja Vittel, ben (General mieber ju geminnen: bu bift je^t nur in feiner ^eftigfeit faffiert; er ftraft metjr au§ ®tugtjeit, at§ au§ bbfer Stbfidjt, juft al§ menu einer feinen ^armtofen $unb fdjtiige, um 15 einen braueitben Somen $u fd)recten; gieb it)m mieber ein gute§ 9$ort, unb er ift bein. (£af. Sieber mitt id) ein gute§ 28ort eintegen, bafj er mid) ganj Oerftofte, at3 einen fo guten 3elbt)errn nod) longer bintergetjen mit einem fo Ieid)tfinnigen, trunfenen unb unbe= 20 fonnenen Dffi^ier. Strunten fein? uitb mie ein $af)agei ptabbern? nub renommieren unb toben, ftud)en unb 33om= baft fd)ma£en mit unfrem eignen ©d)atten? o bu unftd)t= barer ©eift be§ 2$ein3, menu bu nod) teinen tauten baft, an bem man bid) tennt: fo f)et$e Teufel! 25 3 ago. 2Ber mar% ben bu mit bem $>egen Oerfolgteft ? 28a3 batte er bir aetfjan? — (Saf. 3d) toeig nidjt. 3a go. 3ft'3 mogtid)? (£aj. 3d) befinne mid) aitf einen $aufen S)inge, aber anf 30 nid)t§ beuttid); anf einen 3 an t aber nidjt me^megen. — 0 baf* mir einen bbfen 3etnb in ben 9ftunb nebmen, bamit er unfer ®ebirn ftebte! — 3)afj mir bnrd) grobtoden, ©cbmarmeu, $ergniigen unb 5tufreguug un§ in $ietj oer= manbetn! — 35 3ago. 9hm, aber bu fdjeinft mir jetd red)t mo^t; mie tjaft bu bid) fo fdjneE ert)olt? — (Saf. (S3 f)at bem Seufet Xruntenbeit gefalten, bem %en- fet Qoxn $(a£ b xi tnadjen. (Sine ©d)mad)beit entbiittt mir bie anbre, bamit id) mid) red)t Oou §er^ett oerad)ten mbge. 40 3 ago. (M) r , bu bift ein $u ftrenger s )3Zoratift. 2Bie 3eit, $trt nub bie Untftdnbe be3 £anbe3 befd)affen finb, miinfcble id) Oon fier^en, bie3 mare nid)t gefdjeben; ba e3 aber nun einmat fo ift, fo rid)te e3 mieber ein $u beinem ^Beften. 37 OTHELLO. Cas ' I wil1 as k hi™ for my place again, — he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hvdra such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast’ 5 O strange ! — Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil. Ia £°- . ^° me > come, good wine is a good familiar creature, it it be well used: exclaim no more against it. And 10 good lieutenant, I think you think I love you. Cas. I have well approved it, sir. — I drunk ! Iago. You or any man living may be drunk at a time, man. 1 11 tell you what you shall do. Our general’s la wite is now the general; — I may say so in this respect, tor that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces : confess yourself freely to her ; importune her help to put you in your place again: she is of so free, 20 so land, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is reques- ted: this broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter ; and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger 25 than it was before. Cas. You advise me well. Iag°. I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kind- ness. 30 Cas. I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am desperate of my fortunes if they check me here. Ia g°. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I 35 must to the watch. Cas. Good night, honest Iago. [Exit. Iago. And what’s he, then, that says I play the villain ? When this advice is free I give and honest, Probal to thinking, and, indeed, the course 40 To win the Moor again? For ’tis most easy The inclining Desdemona to subdue In any honest suit : she’s fram’d as fruitful As the free elements. And then for her 38 Othello. (£af. 3$ toitf mieber itm nteine ©telte bet ibm nad)fud)en; er mirb ntir antmorten, id) fei ein Srunfenbotb ! bade id) jo diet hauler al§ bie §t)bra, fold)’ eine 2tntmort iuitrbe fie atle ftopfen. Qedt etn derniinftiges SSejen jein, balb ba= 5 tauf eirt Sftarr, unb Vbjftid) eiit $iet), — o furd)tbar! — 3ebe3 ©la§ $u die! ift derflud)t, unb fein ift ein Teufel! — Q a go. ©el/, geb r ; gnter $3ein ift ein gttte§ c^efeUige^ $)ing, menu ntan mit ibm um^ttgeben meiff. ©d)ettet ntir nici)t 10 ntebr auf ibn — nnb tieber Sieutnant, id) benfe, bu benfft, id) tiebe bid). (Saf. Qd) babe SBemeife badon, greunb. — 3e§bentona’§ rnitbe^ |)er 5 bemegt gift eine gute ©ad)e; fie ift fpenbenb $Lfte ©egen fetbft; unb ibr, mie teid)t al^bamt at* OTHELLO. 10 15 20 To win the Moor, — were’t to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin His soul is so enfetter’d to her love, That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Hven as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. How am I, then, a villain JLo counsel Cassio to this parallel course, Directly to his good ? Divinity of hell ! When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now : for whiles 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 ear, — 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 them all. Re-enter Koderigo. . How now, Koderigo! R°d. 1 do follow here m the chase, not like a hound that 25 hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is al- most spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well cud- gelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains; and so, with no money at all, and a little more wit, return again to Venice. 30 Iago. How poor are they that have not patience ! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know’st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft; And wit depends on dilatory time. Does’t not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, 35 And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier’d Cassio: Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe: Content thyself awhile. — By the mass, ’tis morning* Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. — ? 40 Retire thee; go where thou art billeted: Away, I say ; thou shalt know more hereafter : Nay, get thee gone. [Exit Roderigo.] Two things are to be done, — 39 Dtfjetfo. 3)cn 9Robren 5 U geminnen; — galt% ber Xaufe itnb ber ©rlofung ©iegel 5 U entfagen; — ©ein §er^ ift fo Uerftrtdt Don i^rer Siebe, $)aft fie if)tt formt, untformt, d)ut, ma§ fie mitt, 5 28ie T § if)t* getuften mag, ben ($5ott §u fpielen 9J2it feiner ©djmad)beit. 93in id) benn ein ©djurfe, 92at’ id) bent (Saffio fold)en 92id)tmeg an Qn feinem ®litd? — Xbeologte ber §olle! — 9$enit Xeufel drgfte ©itnbe fikbern molten, 10 ©0 loden fie perft burd) frontmen ©d)ein, 28ie id) anjetd. Vermeil ber gute Xropf 3n £)e§bemorta bringt, i^nt bet^ufteb’n, Unb fie mit 9?ad)brud feitt ®efud) begiinftigt, Xfditf’ id) ben ©ifttran! in £)tbedo r § 15 $)afe fie 5U eigner £uft ^uritd ibn ruft; Unb uni fo meljr fie ftrebt, ibnt mobiftutbttn, 58entid)tet fie beitn 9J2obven ba§ ^ertrait’n. ©0 manbf id) t^re Xugenb felbft ^utn Safter Unb ftrid' ein 92et) au£ i^rer eignen (Mte, 20 3)a§ ade foil untgarnen. 91 0 b r i g 0 fontmt. 92 un, 92obrigo? 92 ob. Qd) folge ^ier ber s D2eute, nid)t mie ein $unb, ber jagt, 25 fonbern mie einer, ber nur mit anfd)Uigt. 9J2ein ©elb ift faft Dertban; id) bin l)eut 9£ad)t tiidjtig burdjgepruqett ; nnb id) bente, ba§ (£nbe mirb fein, baf) id) f itr nteine s D2iU)e bod) etmaS (Srfabrmtg geminne, nnb fo, gait^ obne (Mb nnb mit etma§ tnebr 9Serftanb, nad) ^ettebig betmfebve. 30 Q ago. 3Bie arm finb bie, bie nid)t (9ebulb befi^ett ! — $8ie Ijeilten 9Sitnbeit, at§ nur nad) unb nad)? $u meifjt, man mirft burd) 5Bitt unb nid)t burd) ^auber; Unb 28i£ bentl)t auf ©tunb r nnb gituffger $cit. ®ebt’3 benn nid)t gut? (£affio b<*t bid) gefd)(agen, 35 Unb bn, mit mertig ©djmer^, faffierft ben (£affio: ©ebei^t and) fd)led)te$ Untraut oljue ©outte, $on 3'ritd)ten reift ftuerft, bie erft geblitbt — 93erub ? ge bid). — 95eim .^reu^l 3)er 9J2orgen grant, ^ergniigen unb ©efd)dft Derlitr^t bie Qeit. — 40 Sntferne bid); geb' je(5t in bein Quartier: — $ort, fag ? id), bu erfd^rft im tur^ent ntebr. — 92ein, geb’ bod) nur! [9 to brig 0 a&, 3mei 2)inge finb ju tl)nu: 93 OTHELLO. My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress; 111 set her on: ’ Myself the while to draw the Moor apart And bring him jump when he may Cassio find Soliciting his wife: — ay, that’s the way; Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Ext 10 act hi. Scene I. Cyprus. Before the castle. Enter Cassio and some Musicians. 15 Cos. Masters, play here, — I will content your pains, Something that’s brief; and bid “Good morrow, general Enter Clown. [Music on C/< 1\ A!? y ’ mast ? rs > h , ave y° U1 ' instruments been in Naples 20 that they speak l’ the nose thus? First Mus. How, sir, how! Clo. Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments? First Mus. Ay, marry, are they, sir. Clo. 0, thereby hangs a tail. 2d First Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir? Clo Marry, sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know’ but, masters, here’s money for you : and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love’s sake, to make no more noise with it. 30 First Mus. Well, sir, we will not. Clo. If you have any music that may not be heard, to’t, agam: but, as they say, to hear music the general does* . not greatly care. First Mus. We have none such, sir. \ 35 Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I’ll away: go; vanish into air; away! \Exeunt Musicians. Cas. Host thou hear, my honest friend? Clo. No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you. Cos. Pr’ythee, keep up thy quillets. There’s a poor piece ot gold tor thee: if the gentlewoman that attends the general’s wife be stirring, tell her there’s one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech : wilt thou do this? 40 40 Otfjelfo. ^Jcein 28eib tnufj t^re gr an fiir daffio bitten, 3 d) fiimnte fie ba^u; 3 nbe§ nebm’ id) ben $iobren aitf bie ©eite Itnb fitbr’ iljn juft tjinein, menu (£affio brtngettb 5 ©ein 2 Beib erfudjt. 9iun tjelfe ntir ber Xrug! 60 ntufc e$ geb r n: fort, Saubeit unb $er^ug! m gei)t ab. 10 SDritter Slufjug. Sjntf. (£t)f>ern. ^8or bent ©djloffe. Kaffio tritt auf mit fi f an ten. ;15 (£af. 3b r l>errn, fpielt auf! idj %al)V end) eure Wixh: (£in fur^e§ ©tiid, al§ SEiorgengrufi bent gelbbernt. 9ftufif. S)er Sift art tritt auf. Tcarr. Sttuu, if)r £erren? ©tub eure $feifen in 9?eabel qe= 20 mefen, baft fie fo burd) bie 9erren, unb bent General gefattt eure $cuftf fo au§nel)ntenb, baft er end) urn aKe§ in ber SBett bitten lapt, feinen Sarin ntebr bamit $u madden. ^ u f. r § {ft gut, |>err, ba§ looflen loir aud) nid)t. 25 9?arr. 38enn i^r eineSWufi! babt, bie gar nid)t $u boren ift, tn ®ofte§ tauten; aber ma§ man fagt, Sttufif boren: banad) fragt ber (General nid)t luel. SKuf. @o!d)e boben mir nid)t, §err. s )tarr. $)ann fterft eure^feifen mieber in ben ©ad, benn icb 30 mill fort, ©ebt! — berfdjminbet in bie Siifte! bufd)! [2)ie Sftufifanten geifjett a&. 35 to Gaf. §brft bu, mein ebrtidje? ©emiit? — ^ a f r - cvf e H' , e “!i e W|^ eS ® einiit W W) nidjt; icb bore eud) ® • , J#J l4t b,ct >- Ia & b «nea3i#e. $ier baft bu ein Heine? ©olbftucfdjen; menn bie ©efeHfcbaftSbame beiner ©ebieterin |d)on rnunter ift, facj’ il)r, bier fei ein gemiffer (Saffio, bei g*. “ OT . bt , e SSergunftigung cineS furjen ©efotiid)? bitte. Uotuft bu ba§ tbun? — 4Q OTHELLO. Clo. She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I shal seem to notify unto her. Cas. Do, good my friend. [Exit Clown. Enter Iago. O In happy time, Iago. Iago. You have not been a-bed, then? Cas. Why, no; the day had broke Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, 10 To send in to your wife: my suit to her Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona Procure me some access. Iago. I’ll send her to you presently; And I’ll devise a mean to draw the Moor 15 Out of the way, that your converse and business May be more free. Cds. I humbly thank you for’t. [Exit Iago.] I never knew A Florentine more kind and honest. Enter Emilia. Emil. Good morrow, good lieutenant: I am sorry For your displeasure; but all will sure be well. The general and his wife are talking of it; And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies, 25 That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom He might not hut refuse you ; hut he protests he loves you, And needs no other suitor hut his likings To take the saf’st occasion by the front 30 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. 35 Emil. Pray you, come in: I will bestow you where you shall have time To speak your bosom freely. Cas. I am much bound to you. [Exeunt. ©tfjeflo. 9? art. hunter ift fie, §err; menxx fie fid) ftierfter erxnuntern mid, fo merb’ id)’§ il)r hifinitieren. 9£arr at. tritt auf. 5 ©a). ‘Sanf, lieber greuxtb! — (Si, 3ago, grabe red)t! — 3 a go. 0o gixxgt itjr nid)t £U $3ett? (Saf. Qd)? 9£ein; ber Morgen graute, (St)' mir uxx§ trennten. (Sbext febt, xiteixt 3 a fl 0 / 10 8d)idt r id) beiner gran, xtnb lief] fie bitten, 0te mode bet ber ebten 3)e§benxona 9)Hr Qutritt fdfaffen. 3a go. 3d) mid gleidj fie ntfen; Hub auf eixt Vittel finn' id), mie ber 9ttoftr 15 (Sntfernt mirb, baft iftr itm fo freter eud) 33efbred)en xnbgt. (Saf. SSon §er§en banf icb bir'§. — 3dj fannte nie r xten gtorentiner, ber fo bran nnb freunblid). (Sin it. Ghxten Morgen, merter lieutenant, (Suer Uxtfad S3etrubt nticb feftr,' bod) mirb nod) ade§ gnt. 3)er (General xtnb feine 3rau befaredjen^, Hub marnt oertritt fie end); er menbet ein, 25 £)er junge 9)caitn fei l)od)ge[d)cibt in (S\)ftern, $$on grofteni 9lxtt)axxg, xtnb nacf) beftenx 9xat $onn T er end) nid)t berteib ? gen. £)od) er tiebt end), Unb leineS 3iirmort’§ brauajt’S at§ feine greunbfdjafb (Sud) mieber einjufeften. 30 (Saf. 3)ennod) bitf id) — 28eun iftr’§ fur ratfanx pallet ober ttjuutid) — 0d)afft xnir bie £3ol)ltt)at einer llnterrebung. 35 (Snxil. $ontxnt nxit xnir 3d) ricf)t r e§ ein, baft iftr in gitnffger 9)htfte (Sud) fret erftdren nxogt. (Saj. 2Bie ban!’ id) eud)! [@ie geXjeu at 40 41 G OTHELLO. Scene II. A Room in the Castle . Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen. 5 Oth. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot; And by him do my duties to the senate: That done, I will be walking on the works; Repair there to me. Iago. Well, my good lord, Til do’t. 10 Oth . This fortification, gentiemen, — shall we see’t? Gent. We’ll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. Scene III. The Garden of the Castle. 15 Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia. Des. Be thou assur'd, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf. Emil. Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband, 20 As if the case were his. Des. 0 , 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, 25 Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, He’s never any thing but youi' true servant. Des. I know’t; 1 thank you. You do love my lord: You’ve known him long ; and be you well assur’d He shall in strangeness stand no further off 30 Than in a politic distance. Cas. Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstance, 35 That, I being absent, and my place supplied, My general will forget my love and service. Des. Do not doubt that; before Emilia here I give thee warrant of thy place; assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I’ll perform it 40 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 42 Dtfietfo. 3meitc Bjenr. ©benbafel b ft. ©tfjello, unb (£ b e tl e u t e treten auf. 5 £)tfj. $)ie SBriefe, Qago, gieb 7 bem ©djiffSpatron, Unb ineineit ©ntf) entbiet 7 er bem ©enat; 3d) mill Ijernad) bte ^lufienmerle felj’n, $>ort triffft $u mid). 3 ago. ©eljr moljl, mein ©eneraf. 10 £tlj. $8eliebt% tljr £>errn, jur geftung mir %u folgen? ©bel. 2Bir fiub bereit, mein gnab'ger "$err. [@ie gefjenab. Driltc Sprite. ©benbafetbft. 15 2)e§bemoua, (Saffto unb (Smitia tvetcn auf. 3)e§b. 9£ein, ^meifle nid)t, mein guter (Baffin, af(e$, 3Sa§ mir nur ntoglidj, biet 7 id) fitr bid) auf. ©mil. Xt)ut% eble 3rau; id) meifj, mein s Dianu betvitbt fid), 20 s >ll§ mar’ e§ feiue ©ad)e. $>e§b. ©r ift ein ef)rlid) |>er$. ©ei ruljig, ©affio, 3d) ntadje nteinen §errn imb bid) auf$ neue 3u grettnben, mie il)r mar’t. ©af. £ gitt’ge Svan, 25 $8a§ aud) ait§ ^ftidjael ©affio merben mag, 2Xuf intmer bleibt er eitrem £)ienft ergeberi. ® e § b. 3d) banf end), ©affio. — 3^i' liefc’t ja meineu Jperrn, 3t)r leant it) it tange fd)on; brum feib gemifo, ©r menbet fid) nid)t ferner bon end) ab, 30 9ll§ itjn bie $lugl)eit £)ie Mug^eit md^rt bielleidjt fo lattge Qeit, £ebt bon fo mag’rer, maffergleid)er ^oft f ©rneut bie(teid)t fid) au§ bem .gufatl fo, 35 $)af), menu id) fern bin unb mein 2lntt befell, $)er ^elbljerr rneine £ieb’ unb £reu T bergifet. $>e§b. $)a§ fiird)te nimmer; bor ©milieu l)ier $8erburg’ id) bir bein 9lmt; unb fei gemife, ^erfbrad) id) jentanb einen ^ienft, ben leiff id) 40 $i§ auf ben lenten s $unft: id) laff’ i£)m feine s Jhtf 3d)' mad)’ ifjn ^afjm, fd)mdb’ it)n au§ ber ©ebulb; ©ein £ifd) unb 33ett foil Seidjt’ unb ©d)ule jein; 3n alle§, ma3 er bornhnntt, meng’ id) il)m ©af, 6 * OTHELLO. With Cassio’s suit: therefore be merry, Cassio; For thy solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away. c Enter Othello and Iago. 5 Emil. Madam, here comes my lord. Cas. Madam, I’ll take my leave. Des. Why, stay, and hear me speak. 10 Cas. Madam, not now: I’m very ill at ease, Unm for mine own purposes. [ Exit Cassio. Des. Well, do your discretion. 15 Iago. Ha! I like not that. Oth. What dost thou say ? Iago. Nothing, my lord : or if— I know not what. Oth. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? 20 Iago. Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it, That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing you coming. Oth. I do believe ’twas he. Des. How now, my lord! 25 I have been talking with a suitor here, A man that languishes in your displeasure. Oth. Who is’t you mean? Des. Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, 30 His present reconciliation take; For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgment in an honest face: I pr’ythee, call him back. 35 Oth. Went he hence now? Des. Ay, sooth; so humbled That he hath left part of his grief with me, To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time. 40 Des. But shall ’t be shortly? Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you. Des. Shall’t be to-night at supper? Oth. No, not to-night. 43 Otfjello. ©affio*3 ©efud): be$balb fei fropcf), ©affio! $enn betne Mittlerin ttrirb lieber fterben 9113 bid^ oerfdunten. Othello unb Sqqo tretcrt in einiger (Entfernung auf. ©mil ©nab’ge grau, tykx !omntt &er ©enerat. ©af. 3d) nebnte meinen 9lbfd)ieb. 2) e3b. ©i, bleibt unb l)brt mid) rebcn! 10 ©af. ©nab'ge grau, 3e£t nidfjt ; idj bin ntd£)t unbefangett, menig ©efdjidt fur meine 9lbfid)t. $e3b. Meinetbalb; X^ut itcid) 93elieben. [(Saffio gcfjt 15 3 ago. §a! — ba3 gefadt mir nid)t! £>tl). 28a3 fagft bit ba? 3 ago. 9tfid)t3, gnab’ger $err; bod) menu, id) toeift nid)t, toa3. £)tb- 2Bar ba3 nicf)t ©affio, ber ntein 2Beib Derlieft? 20 3a go. ©affio, ©en’ral? ©emifi, id) bad)f e3 uidjt, 2 )aj 3 er ivie fd)ulbbetmifjt u>egfd)leid)en miivbe, £)a er eud) fommeit fiel)t. Dtb- 3d) glaub r , er mar r 3. 3) e3b. (Si fieb, ntein lieber £err! — 25 ©o ebett fprad) ein 93ittenber niit mir, ©in Mann, burd) bein Mifjfallen gan^ entmutigt. £)tb- 2Ber ift e3, ben bu meinft? $)e§b. 9htn, beinen lieutenant ©affio. ^eurer greunb, $at meine Siebe $raft, bid) ju betoegen, 30 4ann augenblid3 Oerfofjne bid) mit iljm — 3ft er nid)t eitter, ber bid) mabrbaft liebt, 9(u3 Uebereilung feblt’ unb nid)t au3 ^orjaft, ^erfteb’ id) fd)lecf)t ntid) auf ein ebjrlict) 9luge; — SSitt’ bid), ruf r il)n juriid. 35 £Dtb- ©inq er je|t fort? 3)e3b. 3a, mabrlidj, fo gefceugt, 2)af; er ein Xeil toon feinern ©ram mir lief), Mit i^m §u leiben. fiiebfter, ruf ibn mieber. £)tb- 3^t nid)t, geliebte3 §erj, ein anberma . 40 &e3b. ®otf) balb? £>tl). balb a(3 moglid), beinctfjalb. 3)e3b. Sum 9lbenbeffen benn? Dtf)- 9tan, beute nid)t. 43 OTHELLO. Des. To-morrow dinner, then? Oth. I shall not dine at home ; I meet the captains at the citadel. Des. Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn; 5 On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesdey morn:— I pr’ythee, name the time; but let it not Exceed three days: in faith, he’s penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason,— Save that, they say, the wars must make examples 10 Out of their 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 would ask me, that I should deny, Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio, lb 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! Trust me, I could do much,— Oth. Pr’ythee, no more: let him come when he will; 20 I will deny thee nothing. Des. 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 peculiar profit 25 To your own person: nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall he full of poise and difficult weight, And learful to be granted. Oth. I will deny thee nothing: 30 Whereor, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself. Des. Shall 1 deny you? no: farewell, my lord. Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona: I’ll come to thee straight. Des. Emilia, come. 35 Whate’er you he, I am obedient. Be as your fancies teach you; [Exit with Emilia. Oth. Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, 40 Chaos is come again. Iago. My noble lord, — Oth . What dost thon say, Iago? Iago. Hid Michael Cassio, when you woo’d my lady, 44 Dtfjello. &e§b. £)amt morgen mittag? Dtf). ' 3d) fpeife nid)t ^u §au§ ; $)ie Offi^iere luben mid) jur Jeftung. 3)e§b. &UU morgen abenb? ober bienftag morgen, 5 Ru ntittag ober abenb — mittmod) frith? — £> nemte ntir bie $eit, bod) lab e§ bbd)ften§ L 3)rei Xage fein. ®emib, e§ reut if)tt fei) r; Unb fein $ergeb'n, nad) unf’rer jd)lid)ten (£infid)t — 5Biemobl ber $rieg ein s 43eifpiel forbert, fagt man, 10 9lm beften felbft — ift nur ein gebb geeignet fjiir f)eintlid)en SBertuetS. — 2Bann barf er fomnten ? ©pricl) bod), Dtbetto: id) begreife nid)t, 2Ba$ id) bir meigerte, ba§ bu oerlangteft, Ober fo ^anbernb jcbmieg. (£i, 9JUd)ael ©affio, 15 3)er fur bid) marb unb mand)e§ liebe s U£al, 3Benn id) non bir nid)t intmer gitnftig fprad), 2)id) treu t»erfod)t — ben foftet’3 fo oiel iit) r $)ir oerfbl)nen? Xraun, id) tbate Diel Otb. 3d) bitf bid), lab — er fontnte, mann er mitt; 20 3d) mitt bir nid)t§ Oerfagen. $)e3b. (£3 ift ja nid)t fitr inid): (£3 ift, aU bat' id) bidi), £mubfdbub r ^utragen, $>id) marm $u baiten, fraft’ge $oft nebnten, Ober al3 rief id) bir befonb’re ©orgfalt 25 giir beine ^fleae — nein, bdb’ icb $u bitten, 2Ba§ beine Siebe redft in ^njprud) nimnit, $)ann niub e§> fdjmierig fein unb Doll (55emicl)t Unb ntiblid) bie ©emabrung. Otb. 3d) mitt bir nid)t§ Derfageit; 30 SDagegen bitt’ id) bid), gemdbr 7 ntir bie§ — Sab inid) ein menig nur mit ntir attein. $)e§b. ©ott id) r § Oerfagen? ^eiu, leb r mobb mein (Sfatte. Otb. Seb r mobb mein iper^! id) folge gleid) bir nad). $)e§b. Gsmilia, fomm! [$u DiJjetio. 35 %fya\ mie bid) Sautte treibt; 28a§ e§ audb fei, geborfam’ bin icb bir. [®d)t ab mit ©milieu. Otb. £>olbfelig ®ing ! $erbantni§ nteiner ©eele, Sieb r id) bid) nid)t! unb menu id) bid) nid)t liebe, 40 3)ann febrt ba§ (£t)ao§ nieber. 3ctgo. 9ftein ebler (General — Otb. 28a§ fagft bu, 3^go? 3ago. §at (£affio, al3 il)i* marbt tun cure ©attin, 44 OTHELLO. 10 Know of your love? Oth. He did, from first to last: whv dost thnn x ( rbSv»,s as '* ,!,io " ° f C: no«,h,K;aV.^»S wilh her Iago. Indeed ! and W6nt between us ver y °t he n tfL a U y est? deed: diSCem ’ St thou ^ght inthut? Iago. Oth. Iago. Oth. 15 Iago. Oth. ay, honest. 20 25 30 Honest, my lord ! My lord, for aught I know. Houcst! What dost thou think? Think, my lord! By heaven, he echoes me, Think, my lord! tL' km 61 ' 6 'I er ? so ! lle monster in his thought / heard thee t „° av be p shown - ~ Thou dost mean something : wi n - , ?• even now > tl,ou lik’dst not that 8 When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like’’ And when I told thee he was of mv counsel In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst “Indeed ?» And didst contract and purse thy brow together As it thou then hadst shut up in thy brain ’ Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me Show me thy thought. me> Iago. My lord, you know I love you. A„!, for I k„„» th.rt „f JeSVot” st thy words before t.hnn mu’ot — 1 35 F.r s szi7: SuTZi^iz: be Are tricks of custom; but in a man that’s just They re close denotements, working from the heart lhat passion cannot rule. /a €°\ . For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn I think that he ’s honest. 40 Oth. Iaqo. 0 Oth. I ago. I think so too. . .. _ Men should be what they seem • be rAT°f Uld they mi £ ht seem none! 111611 s koukl b? what they seem. Why, then, I think Cassio’s an honest man. 45 Otfjetfo. ®eRntj 3 t unt eure Siebe? Dtfj. SSon Wnfang bi£ p (£nbe: marurn fragft bu? 3 ago. Unt nid)t§, al§ nteine 9?ettgier p befrieb’gen; $id)t§ 2lrge§ fonft. 5 Dt^. * SSarutn bie Sfteugier, Sago? Sago. Sd glaubte nid)t, er l)abe fie gefannt. Dtb- O ia, er gtng bon (Sinent oft pm 5fnbern. Sago. SBivflidj ! £>tl). 28irflid)! ja, mirflid)! — ginb’ft bu ma§ barin? 10 Sfi er tiid)t ef)rlid)? Sago. (S^rltd), gndb’ger §err? Oti ©fjrlid), ja eljrlid) ! Sago. ©o Otel id) meifj, ©en’ral! £)tfj. benfft bu, Sago? 15 Sago. $)enfen, gndb’ger £>err? £>t|. £mt, benfen, gndb’ger £>err! ®ei dott, mein (M)o! 2113 lag’ cin Ungeljeu’r in feinem ©inn, gu grdfjlidj, e3 p jeigeit. — (£tma3 nteinft bu! 20 3e|d eben riefft bu: ba3 gefallt inir nid)t! ?(t$ (£ajfio fortging. 28 a 3 gefallt bir nid)t ? — Unb al3 id) fagY, tljm f)ab’ id) mid) bertraut Snt gortgang meiner SBerbung, riefft bu: mir!l id)? Unb ^ogft nub falteteft bie ©tint pfamnten, 25 2U3 bielt’ft bu einen grettlidjen ©ebanfeit $erfd)loffeit im ©efjint — 28enn bu mid) liebft, ©brief), ma3 bu benfft. Sago. Sbr mifjt, id) lieb’ eud), £>err! Dtb. 3)a3, benf’ id), tljuft bu 30 Unb rceil id) meif$, bu bift mein S'^eunb unb rebliefj, Unb magft ba3 2Bort, elj bu iljm 2Uem feif)ft, ©o dngftet mid) bie3 ©toefeu nut fo mefjr — 2)enn berlei ift bei faffd) treulofeu 23uben 2UftagIicf) <©biel; bod) bei bem 23iebermann 35 $eimfid)er 2Binf, ber au3 bem ^er^eu bringt, Snt gorn be3 (£belmut3. Sago. 9hm, 9Jtid)ael (£affio — Sd) barf mo^l }d)mdren, e^rlid) bait’ id) tljn. £) t f) Sd) aud). 40 Sago. 9ftan follte feiu ba3, ma3 man fd)eiut; Unb biee3 nidjt finb, fodteu’3 and) nid)t fcfjeinen. Qtfj. ©an& red)t f man fodte feiit ba3, ma3 man fd)eint. Sago, 9cun mof)l, fo bait’ id) Gaffio benn fiir ef)rlid). 45 OTHELLO. Oth. Nay, yet there’s more in this : I pr’ythee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thought The worst of words. 5 Iag £l i T i Gopd lorcl , Pardon me: 1 hough I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts ? Why, say they are vile and false,— 10 As where s that palace whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law-days, and in session sit With meditations lawful? 15 Oth Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, It thou but think’st him wrong’d and mak’st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts. Ia S°' I do beseech you — 1 hough I perchance am vicious in my guess, 20 (As, I confess, it is my nature’s plague To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy bhapes faults that are not) — that your wisdom yet rrom one that so imperfectly conceits. Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble 2o (Jut of his scattering and unsure observance. It were not for your quiet nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, To let you know my thoughts. /->. i • What dost thou mean? oO Iago . Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing; Iwas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thou- 35 sands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed. Oth. By heaven, I’ll know thy thoughts! 40 Iago You cannot, if my heart were in your hand: Nor shall not, whilst ’tis in my custody. Oth. Ha ! J Iago. 0, beware, my lord, of jealousy; 46 Dt^effo. £)tf). U?ein f bamit meinft bu tnebr: 3dj bitf bid), fprid) mir gam fo trie bu benfft, ®an$ mie bu finnft; mtb gieb bem fdjttmmften $)enfen fdjlimmfte 28ort. 5 3 ago. 9ttein (General, Uenei^t; Dbgleid) $u jeber ®ienft^flid)t eud) derbunben, 9cid)t bin id) r § ba, mo ©flatten fret fid) fitfjlen. 9lu£fbred)en bte ©ebanfen! ®efej 3 t, fie maren ttiebrig unb derfebrt — 0 28 o iff ber ^Salaft, mo nid)t aud) einmal ©djdnMtd)e3 einbringt? 28effen §er§ fo rein, 3)aft ber unb jener fdjmit^ge gmeifel nid)t (£inntal ju 9ft at fi|t unb ®erid)t§tag bait 2Rit redjt^gentafeer gorfdjung? 15 Dtb. 3)u itbft $errat an beiriem greunbe, Qago! ®taubft bu, man frcinf ibn, unb derbitdft il)m bod), 2Ba§ bu nur irgettb benfeit magft. 3 ago. 3d) b>itt T eud), 2Benn aud) diedeid)t fatfd) iff, ma§ id) derntute 10 (2Bie% id) befenn’ e§, ftetS mein Seben quad, gebltritlen nad)geb r n; aucb mein2lrgmobn oft 2(u§ nid)t§ bie ©iinbe fdjafft), bafc eure 2Bei§beit 2tuf einen, ber fo undodfontmen mabrnimrnt, 9tid)t bbren mag; nod) Unrub’ end) erbau’n 25 9tit§ feiner ungemife serftreuten feinting; — Sftidjt fann’3 befteb’u mit eurer Dftub’ mtb SBoMfaTnt, 2iod) meiner SDftannbeit, Ofteblidjfeit unb $orfid)t, Sag' id) end), ma§ id) beitfe. Dtb. 6bricb, ma§ meinft bu? 30 3 <*go. £>er gute 9ftame ift bet SKamt unb grau, 2ftein befter §err, 3)a3 eigentlidie 5Heinob ibrer ©eeten. 28er nteinen 23eutet ftiebtt, nirnrnt SEanb; ’§ ift etmaS Unb ntdjtS; mein mar e§ ,marb ba§ ©eine nun 35 Unb ift ber ©ftatt’ tmn Xaufenben gemefen. 3)od), mer ben guten tauten mir entmenbet, 3)er raubt mir ba§, ma§ ibn nid)t reid)er madid 2)Ucb aber bettelarm. Dtt). $eim fmnmel! id) mid miffen, ma§ bu benfft. 40 3ado. 35 * founts nid)t, tag’ in eurer £anb mein Sen, ??od) fodt ib*% meil e§ meine 23ruft derfdjliefet. ' ( £ t b. S a ! — 3 ago. £, bemabrt end), £>err, dor (giferfwdjt, OTHELLO. It is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on : that cuckold lives in bliss * Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger* But, 0, what damned minutes tells he o’er ’ Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves! Oth. 0 misery! Iago. Poor and content is rich and rich enough, But riches fineless is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor. 1U Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy! Oth . Why, why is this? Think’st thou I’d make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon 15 With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt Is once to be resolv’d: exchange me for a goat When I shall turn the business of my soul ’ To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, Matching thy inference. ’Tis not to make me jealous 0 To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves 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 fear or doubt of her revolt; 25 For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago; I’ll er liebt, oer^meifelt! argmobnt unb Uergottert! Dtf). £) gammer! gaqo. ton unb oergniigt ift reid) unb itberreid) $jod) $rofit§’ 9fteid)tum ift fo arnt al§ Winter giir ben, ber itnmer fitrdjtet, er uerarme — 10 £) £>immel, fd)ilfe 7 ad’ meiner greunbe £jerj $or (Siferfud)t! — 0tb- 2Bie? 3Sa§ ift ba§? $enfft bu, 9Kein Sebett fod au§ ©iferfudjt befteb’n? Unb mecbfeln, mie ber s D£onb, in em’gent ©djmanten, :5 W \ t ettrer gurdjt? ton, einmal Qioeifetn inad)t 9Jiit (£in§ eutfd)loffen. 33ertaufd) T mid) mil ’ner ®eif), SBentt id) ba§ feirfen meiner ©eele rid)te tof foXd) r Derblafne§, nid)tige§ $bantom, SBabnfbielenb, fo mie bu. 9Ud)t medt mir’8 ©iferfudjt, >0 ©agt man, mein 3Seib ift fd)bn, gebeibt, ftridjt fcber^enb, ©ie liebt ©efedfcbaft, fingt, ffuelt, tanjt mit 9te ij — 3®o Xugenb ift, ntad)t ba§ nod) tugenbbafter — Sftod) fdjbpf id) je au§ meinen eignert TOngeln ®ie fleinfte gurd)t, nod) S^eifel^lbre^ $tbfad§; >5 ©ie mar nid)t blinb unb mdl)tte mid), ton, gago, ©t)’ id) jmeifle, mid id) fetj'n; jmeifP id), 33emei3: Hub bab’ id) ben, fo bleibt nid)t§ anbreS iibrig, to fort auf (£in§ mit £ieb’ unb (£iferfud)t. gago. $)a§ freut mid); benn nun barf id) obne ©d)eu 50 (Sudj offettbaren tneine £ieb r unb $flid)t tot freierm §er ( ^en. $)rum al$ greunbe§movt £>ort fo Diet nur: nod) fdjmeig’ icb non 33emeifert. $ead)tet eure gran; priift fie mit (£affio. $)a§ toge flar, nid)t btinb, nicbt eiferfiid)tig ; 55 toe traurig, mitrb’ eu’r freie§, eble§ £>er$ ©efrdnft burd) iitn’re (Mte: brum gebt vlcf)t ! totebig§ to uub ©itte tenu’ icb to obi: $)ort laffen fie ben £)immel ^inge felj'n, 3)ie fie bent s 3Jlann tterbergen — gut ©emiffett 10 £>eifet bort nicbt: unterlafei nein: bolt gebeim! Dtb. toinft bu? gago. 3)en 33ater trog fie, ba fie eud) geeblid)t — * to fie nor eurem 331 id $u beben jd)ien, 47 OTHELLO. 10 15 20 She lov’d them most. And so she did. To^eefh S ° C0Ul<1 ghe out> sucha seeming, To seel her lather s eyes up close as oak— He thought ’twas witchcraft:— hut I’m much to i,i™ I humbly do beseech you of your pardo™ bUm for too much loving you. °, th ' T ... , , I’m bound to thee for ever. tago I see this hath a little dash’d your spirits. Oth. Not a jot, not a jot. /a f\ .„ ' I' faith, I fear it has. 1 hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from my love. But I do see you’re mov’d* 1 am to pray you not to strain my speech lo grosser issues nor to larger reach Than to suspicion. O/k. I will not. logo. Should you do so, my lord. My speech should fall into such vile success Mv ?L h f“ ghtS a ™ “ 0t at - Cassio ’ s m y worthy friend: - My lord, 1 see you’re mov’d. J °‘j' i « No, not much mov’d : — 1 do not think but Desdemona’s honest. 2 ° T nfh H , ve i she so! aud long live you to think so! Oik. And yet, how nature erring from itself, — /a %- ‘ he f e ’ s the point:— as-to be bold with you— Aot to atiect many proposed matches 01 her own clime, complexion, and degree. Whereto we see in all things nature tends, — 1 oh! one may smell in such a will most rank, roul disproportion, thoughts unnatural: — But pardon me; I do not in position Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear Her will, recoiling to her better judgment, May tall to match you with her country forms. And happily repent. 0t h- Farewell, farewell: If more thou dost perceive, let me know more- bet on thy wife to observe : leave me, Iago. ’ ^ k ' rd ’ I take my leave, [ Going. Oth. Why did I marry? — This honest creature doubtless bees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. 48 30 35 40 Ctjjetfo. 15 20 Bar fie in end) bediebt. £)t# Sa too#! Sago. Shut folglidj: 0ie, bie fo jung fid) jo ocrftetten tonnte, 5 $)af) fie be§ $ater§ $lid mit Sftadjt umpdte, $>a| ed§ fiir Qauber #elt — bod) fdjeltet midj, — Sn ®emut bitt’ id) end), i#* mottt Oer^eib’n, Bemt id) $u febr eud) liebe. £)t# Sd) bin bir emig bantbar. 10 Sago. Stf) W’, bie§ brad# end) etmaS au3 ber Safjuttg. £)t# © gar nidjt! gar nid)t ! Sago. 1 Xraun, id) fiird# e3 bod). Sd) §off% i#‘ mottt bebenfen, ma§ id) f#a<# ®efd)ab au£ fiiebe: — bod) tfjr feib bernegt; — Sd) bitf end), §err ! bel)nt nteine Bode nid)t Qu grobernt 9?aum unb meit’rer Stidjtung au£, auf $ermutung. £>t# 9ton. Sago. $enn tfjdtet i#% 6o batten nteine S^eben fd)lintm r re Solgen, f 2113 idj jemal§ gebad)t. 6el)r lie# id) (£affio — Sd) fe#, i#‘ feib betoegt. — £)t# S nein! nicf)t febr! — Sd) glaube, $>e§bemona ift rnir treu. 25 Sago. Sang bteibe fie’S! Unb tange mbg’t ##3 glauben! £t# Unb bennod) — ob Sftatur, menu fte berirrt — Sago. Sa, barin liegt'3: att — um e3 breift &u fagen, — 6o ntand)ent |>eirat§antrag miberfteb’n, SSon gleidjer £>eimat, Bo#geftaIt unb Sftang, Bonac# mir fe#t% Sftatur bocf) intnter ftrebt: $m, barin fpitrt matt Bitten, attyt liiftern, ^a^tofen 0inn, ©ebanfett imnatiirlid). Sebod) berjei#: id) bab T in biefent Sail ( §iicd)t fte beftimmt gemeint: obfd)on id) fitrdjte, S# Bitte, riicfgefetjrt p befferm Urteil, $ergleid)t eud) einft ntit i#en £anb£genoffen, Unb bann oietteidjt bereut fie. £)t# £eb r too#! £eb’ mo#! Benn bn me# mabrnimntft, lab mid) nte#; erfa#en; 40 5)etn Beib geb’ auf fie 9ld)t! — SSerlab mid), Sago. — Sago. Sebt mo#, ntein gncib’ger §err! [Slfegeljcu St# Barum oerma#t’ icb ntitf)? — $>er bratte 90tfenfd) 0iebt unb meib me#, meit me#, al£ er entbiittt! — 30 35 OTHELLO. Iago. My lord, I would I might entreat your honour To scan this thing no further; leave it to tin Although ’tis tit that Cassio have his place,— ® (r or, sure, he fills it up with great ability ) Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, You shall by that perceive him and his means: Note, it your lady strain his entertainment With any strong or vehement importunity 10 Much will be seen 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. 15 I a go. I once more take my leave. \Exit. Oth. This fellow’s of exceeding honesty, And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings ?0 I’d whistle her off and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have; or, for I am declin’d Into the vale of years,— yet that’s not much; 25 She’s gone; I am abus’d; and my relief Must be to loathe her. 0 curse of marriage, I hat we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, 30 Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others’ uses. Yet, ’tis the plague of great ones; Prerogative are they less than the base; ’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death: Even then this forked plague is fated to us 35 When we do quicken. — Desdemona comes: Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia. If she be false, 0, then heaven mocks itself! — I’ll not believe ’t. 40 Des. How now, my dear Othello! Your dinner, and the generous islanders By you invited, do attend your presence. Oth. I am to blame. 49 Dttjcfto. 3 ago (juriicffe^renb.) 9ttein ®enerat, id) mod)t T eucb fyxtfitf) bitten, 9cid)t rueiter griibett; iibertafi’t^ ber $eit: llnb ift r § gteid) recf)t, (Saffto im $)ienft $u taffen 5 (2)enn alterbing§ fte^t er if)nt trefflicf) Dor), $)od), menu's eud) gut biinft, ^attet ifjrt nod) t)in; 3)aburd) Derrcit er fid) unb feine 28ege. £>abt 2ld)t, ob cure ©attin feine fftitcffetjr s Iftit bringenb beft'gem Ungeftiint begebrt; 10 £)arau§ ergiebt fic^ tnandjeS. UnterbeS $) en!t nur,' id) war $u entftg in ber gurd)t, (Unb mirflid) mitft id) fiird)ten, baft icft’S war — ) llnb fjaltet fie fitr treu, mein ebler f^elb^err ! Dtf). ©org r nicf)t um meine gaffung. 15 Sago, ^od) einmat nebm ; id) 2tbfd)ieb. [©efjt nb. Dtt). &a3 ift ein 9ftenfd) Don bocbfter fRebticftteit, Unb !ennt ntit mobterfabr'nem @inn ba§ £reiben $)e§ 28etttauf§. ginb 1 id) bid) Derwilbert, gatf, Unb fei bein guftriem ntir untS §er$ gefcfttungen, 20 £o§ geb* id) bid), fteug bin in atte Siifte, 2luf guteS feliid! — SSieHeid)t wcftt, weit icf) fdjmara bin, Unb ntir be§ leidjten UntganaS ©abe febtt, $)er @tu ; fter §iert; aud) meit fid) meine 3 a b re ©d)on abwdrtS fenten; — bod) ba§ betfd nid)t Diet: — 25 @ie ift babin! — 3$ bin getaufd)t! — 9Jiein Xroft 6ei bitfrer $aft. £)! gtuci) be§ ©beftanbS, 3)aft unfer biefe marten 28efen fittb Unb nidjt ibr Siiften! Sieber $rote feiit Unb Don ben ® iinften eineS ®erfer3 teben, so 2tt§ baft ein 28infet iin getiebten SBefen giir Mnb’re fei. — £)a§ ift. ber ©roften Gnat, 6ie baben tninber $orred)t al§ ber Sftiebere: *S ift ibr ®efd)id, unWenbbar wie ber £ob; @d)ott im ©ntfteffn fcbwebt ber gebbrnte gtud) 35 Stuf unfren 0d)eitet. 0iebe ba, fie !ommt! 5)e§bemona unb Emilia tretcn auf. 3ft biefe fatfd), fo fpottet fein ber $immel! — 3d) will's nidjt glauben! 40 $)eSb. 9iun, mein teurer £>err? $)ein ©aftmabt unb bie ebten (£i)ftrier, $ie bu gelaben, marten fdfon auf bicb. Dtfj. 3$ 5 U tabeln. 49 7 OTHELLO. Des - Why do you speak so faintly? Are you not well? Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here. Des. ’Faith, that’s with watching: ’twill away again: 5 Let me but bind it hard, within this hour It will be well. Oth. Your napkin is to little: [He puts the handkerchief from him, and she drops ii Let it alone. Come, I’ll go in with you. 10 Des. I’m very sorry that you are not well. [Exeunt Othello and DesdemonaJ Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin: This was her first remembrance from the Moor: My wayward husband hath a hundred times 15 Woo’d me to steal it; but she so loves the token, (For he conjur’d her she should ever keep it,) That she reserves it evermore about her, To kiss and talk to. I’ll have the work ta’en out, And give ’t Iago: 20 What he will do with it heaven knows, not I; I nothing but to please his fantasy. Re-enter Iago. Iago. How now! what do you here alone? 25 Emil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you. Iago. A thing for me? it is a common thingr- Emil. Ha ! Iago. To have a foolish wife. Emil. 0 , is that all? What will you give me now 30 For that same handkerchief? Iago. What handkerchief? Emil. What handkerchief! Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona; That which so often you did bid me steal. 35 Iago. Hast stol’n it from her? Emil. No, ’faith; she let it drop by negligence, And, to the advantage, I, being here, took ’t up. Look, here it is. Iago. A good wench; give it me. 40 Emil. What will you do with’t, that you have been so earnest. To have me filch it? Iago. Why, what’s that to you? [Snatching it. Emil. If’t be not for some purpose of import, Dttjello. 25 40 $edb. 2 Bad rebeft bu fo matt ? 3ft Mr nid)t mob l? Dtb. 3d) fiUjle ©djmerj an meiner ©time ^ier. $edb. ©i ia, bad tommt nom SBadjen, ed oergetjt: 3d) mitt fte feft bir binben, in ’ner ©tunbe 3ft’d wieber gut. . £)tb. Deitt ©djnupftud) tft ju ttetn. [®ie ta^t tfjr ftud) fatten Safe nur. fomm’ mit, id) getj’ tjiuem mit bir. $edb. ©d qucitt mid) febr, ba& bn bid) unmobt fubdt. [2)e§bemont unb Othello ab. ©mil. ®lid) freut, bajj id) bad 2nd) t)ier finbe; $ied war bed ffliobren erfted Siebedpfanb. SRein wunberlidjer SKamt t)ief; mid) jd)on ^etinmat $ad Dud) entwenben: bod) fie liebt’d fo fet)r (®enn er befdjmor fie’d forglicf) ftetd jit bitten), Dafs fie’d beftanbig bei fid) tragt, ed tufft llnb fpridjt bantit. Dad ©tidmerf setdju id) nad) Unb geb’ ed 3°go ) .. ... . . 2Boju er’d will, ber §immel wctf) : gleid)met, 3d) fiige mid) in feiner Saunen ©fuel. Sago trttt auf. gieBt’§? 28 a§ tnad)ft bu f)tev afletrt? 9lun, rant’ nur nid)t, id) babe wad fair bid), fpaft wad fiir mid)? Dad iff nun rnoljl nid)td 9leued. ©i! febt mir bod)! ©in tiarrifd) SSeib ju baben. ©o? weiter nid)td? — Stun, fprid) ! wad giebftbumir Siir biefed Da(d)entud)? 3aqo. ®eld)’ Dafcbentudj ? ©mil. 2Beld)’ Dafdientud) ? ©i nun, bed iDiotjren erfted S3rautaefd)en!, Dad bu jo oft mir ju entwenben biefeeft. 3 ago. ^aft bu’d geftoblen? ©mil. Dad nid)t, fie lief) ed fatten aud SSerfeb’n; Unb id) sum ©liid ftanb nab’, unb bob ed auf. ©ieb ba, 1)itx ift’d. c* a qo. ©in braued 28eib! ©ieb ber! ©mil. 23ad foil hir’d nur, baft bu fo eifrig braugft, 3br’d wegjumaufen? ago. @i! 2Bad gel)t’d bid) an! [steibt es itjv weg. mit. §at’d feinen wid)t’gen Qwed, fo gieb mir’d wieber: 50 7* Sago. ©mil. Sago- ©mil. Sago. ©mil I OTHELLO. 10 wl 6 * f 6 l g ^ n ; P° or lad ^ she’ll run mad When she shall lack it. o L . . He n °t you acknown on ’t- I have use tor it. Go, leave me. {Exit Emilt I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin, And let him find it. Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmations strong tL P m°* S °{ h0l 7 w f it: this ma y do something. The Moor already changes with my poison : -I are ’ in the i r natures - poisons, Rnf wifn th f ®, rst are scarce fou “ d to distaste, gut, With a little act upon the blood -Burn like the mines of sulphur.— I did say so:— 15 Re-enter Othello. 20 25 30 35 Nor k aH W R?r/ e COmes! No £ P°PPy> “or mandragora, ^ or all the drowsy syrups of the world 8 bhal! ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow’dst yesterday. 0 /nl' \\T L r, Ha! ^ a * ^ Se to me? logo Why, how now, general! no more of that. °j\ Avaunt ! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:— I swear tis better to be much abus’d ihan but to know ’t a little. ,, 71 How now, my lord! °th. What sense had I of her stol’n hours of lust? l saw t not, thought it not, it harm’d not me* 1 slept the next night well, was free and merry; A round not Cassio’s kisses on her lips: He that is robb’d, not wanting what is stol'n, Ret him not know’t, and he’s not robb’d at all J ago. I am sorry to hear this. °th. I had been happy, if the general camp, Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body So I had nothing known. 0, now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! harewell the plumed troop, and the big wars That make ambition virtue! 0, farewell! ’ Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump lhe spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife. The royal banner, and all quality, 1 lide, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! And, 0 you mortal engines, whose rude throats Ottjetto. fjiie nvme grau ! — 6ie roirb bon ©innen fomnten, Seim fie’S bermiBt. . ,., a , . , gaqo. SaB bit nicf)t§ merfen: g’nug, ba| idj’8 bebatf. @et)’, lafe mid). t® inil 5 3d) toitt bet ©affio biefeS STurf) betlteren, $a foE er’8 finben; $inge, teid)t rate Suft, ®inb fur bie C£iferfud)t ®eroei§, fo ftarf Ste 93ibelfpritd)e. ®ie8 fann ffiirtung ttjun. ®er SRotjr ift fcpon im Sampf mit meinem ©ift: 10 ®efiit)rlic|e ©ebanten finb gleid) ©iften, ®ie inan ftuerft taunt raafjrntmmt am ©ejdituact, Mein nad) turner Sirhtng auf ba§ Slut ©leid) ©djroefelmiiten gtiip’m 3d) f a gt’ e§ to opt! — Dtfjetlo tritt auf. ®a fommt er. ®opnfaft nid)t, nod) 9Ranbragora, Died) atte ©cptummerfrafte bev Statur SSerpelfett je bir $u bent fitfeen ©cptaf, ®en bn nod) geftern patteft. Dtp. ©a! ©a! mir trentod! 9Rir! 3 ago. 9Jun, fafjt eud), ©eneral! s JM)t§ mepr babott. Ctfi. gort ! ©eb’ bid) roeg! ®u roarfft mid) auf bie goiter: 3d) jd)TObv’, ’8 ift beffer, fepr betrogen fein, 9(t§ nur ein raenig raiffen. 3a qo. Sie, ©eneral? £)tb. Sal atjnet' id) bott ipren ftitteu Siiften? 3cb fap’8 nicpt, bad)t’ el nid)t, roar opne ©arm; ©d)tief root)! bie nadifte 9Jacpt, ap gut, roar fret unb frot) ; 3d) fanb nid)t ©affio’l fuff auf ipren Sippen : Senn ber 93eftopt'nc nid)t bermiBt ben 9taub, ©agt ipr’l ipm nidjt, fo ift er nid)t beftopten. 3 ago. ©I fd)tner)jt mid), biel ju BBten. Dtp. 9?od) roar’ id) glikftid), roenn bag game Sager, gropbub unb atteS, itjren fiiBen Seib gettoB, Unb id) erfupr el uid)t. £> nun, auf imtner gapr’ roopt, be? ©erjenl 9tup’ ! gapr’ root)!, mein griebe gapr’ root)!, bu waltenber ©etmbufcp, ftotjer f rieg, ®er ©prgeis madjt jur gugenb! D, fapr’ roopt! gapr’ to opt, ntein toiepernb MB unb fd)metternb ©rj, PRutfdjroettenbe grommet, munt’rer tpfeifenftang, ®u foniglid) Lanier unb atter ©tanj, $rad)t, $omp unb SRiiftung be! glorreicpen friegl! — Unb o bu Worbgejdjofi, be? rauper ©d)luub 51 OTHELLO. The immortal Jove’s dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone! I ago. Is’t possible, my lord? Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, 5 Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof; Or, by the worth of man’s eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my wak’d wrath! I ago. ' Is’t come to this? 10 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! Iago. My noble lord, — Oth. If thou dost slander her and torture me, 15 Never pray more; abandon all remorse; On horror’s head horrors accumulate; Do deeds to make heaven w r eep, all earth amaz’d; For nothing canst thou to damnation add Greater than that. 20 Iago. 0 grace! 0 heaven, forgive me! Are you a man? have you a soul or sense? God bewi’you! take mine office.— 0 wretched fool, That liv’st to make thine honesty a vice! — 0 monstrous world! Take note, take note, 0 world, 25 To be direct and honest is not safe. 1 thank you for this profit; and from hence I’ll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence. Oth. Nay, stay: — thou shouldst be honest. Iago. I should be wise; for honesty’s a fool 30 And loses that it works for. Oth. By the world, I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; I think that thou art just, and think thou art not ; I’ll have some proof: her name, that was as fresh 35 As Dian’s visage, is now begrim’d and black As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives, Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, I’ll not endure it. % Would I were satisfied! Iago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion: 40 I do repent me that I put it to you. You would be satisfied? Oth. Would! nay, I will. Iago. And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord? 52 jDtljeflo. 10 30 35 40 em’aen ^ot)i§ Conner miebeiftdlt, ftab t’ mofjl ! OtfteHoS Xagmerf ift getfjan! cyrtoo r SSernunft unb ©mn? Sabrt mob! benn! Dtebrnt mein 9lntt. - ^d) biobet ®eS Sieb’ unb itteblidjfeit a IS Softer gtlt! — O! febnobe SSett! merf auf, inert’ auf, 0 SBelt! 9(ufrid)tig fern unb rebtid) bringt ©efat)r. ®ant fur bie SSBarnung; teinen ^reunb non je|t Sieb’ id) b»infort, ba Siebe fo nertegt £>tb tttein, bleib’, bn fottteft bod) roobl ebrttd) fern. 3 ago. ting fottt’ id) fein: benn ©rabtjeit ift ’ne Xi)otut, ®ie baS nerfebtt, monad) fie ftrebt. • Dtb- $ei ® Dtt 3d) bent’, mein 28 eib ift treu, unb ift eS Jtidjt; 3d) bente, bu bift bran, unb bift e§ md)t; 3d) mitt 33emei8. 3br SRame, einft fo bed 5Bie SianenS 2tnttifi, ift nun mitft unb fdjmarj 2Bie mein ®efid)t. — SBenn’S tttteffer gtebt unb Stride, ©ift, 3-euer, ober ©triime jum ©rfaufeu, 3d) bulb’ eS nid)t. — © mar’ id) iiberjeugt! — 3 ago. 3d) febe, mie eud) Seibenftbaft berjebrt; sifft id) reut, baf) id) eud) Slntafj gab: fo modjtet 0 ,f ' i '"’ ? ■»#,? »i«, M, »«’«■ 3 ago. Unb fount’. £)oft mie? 2Bie uber^eugt, o §evr? 52 £ftor, OTHELLO. Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on, — Behold her tupp’d? Oth. Death and damnation! — 0! Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, 5 To bring them to that prospect: damn them, then. If ever mortal eyes do 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, 10 Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say, If imputation and strong circumstances, Which lead directly to the door of druth, 15 Will give you satisfaction, you may have ’t. Oth. Give me a living reason she’s disloyal. Iago. I do not like the office: But, sith I’m enter’d in this cause so far, Prick’d to ’t by foolish honesty and love, 20 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 loose of soul That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs; 25 One of this kind is Cassio: In sleep I heard him say, „Sweet Desdemona, Let us be wary, let us hide our loves ; u And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry „0 sweet creature !“ and then kiss me hard, 30 As if he pluck’d up kisses by the roots That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg Over my thigh, and sigh’d, and kiss’d; and then Cried „Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!“ Oth. 0 monstrous ! monstrous! 35 Iago. Nay, this was but his dream, Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion: “Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. Iago . And this may help to thicken other proofs That do demonstrate thinly. 40 Oth. I’ll tear her all to pieces. Iago. Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done She may he honest yet. Tell me but this, 53 Dtfjeflo. Soflt it)X tnit offnem *(icf bie gred)beit fdfau’n? ©ie jet)’n gepaart? Otfi. 6a! Sob unb Seufet! o! . 3 a g o. ©in fdfroierig Untemetjmcn, bent’ id) nttr, 5 ©ie fo pr ©d)au ju bringen: ’§ roar' ju toil, 2Benn mebr nod) aid bier Stugen gutritt fanben S8ei fold)ent Su)t)piel ! SBa§ benn alfo? 2Bte? 2Sa§ foil id) tt)un? 23o Ueberjeugung finben? llnmbgtid) ift e§, bieS mit anpfeb’n, 10 llnb rodren fie roie ©eif:’ unb Slffen roilb, Jpitiig roie briinft’ge SSiitfe, plumb unb finnloS 2Sie trunfne Summbeit. Sennod) fag’ id) end), SSenn ©d)utboerbad)t unb ©riinbe trift’ger 9lrt, $ie grabf)in fiibren ju ber SBabrlfeit Sbpr, 15 ©ud) Ueberjeugnng fdfafften, foldje f)dtt’ id). Dtp. ®ieb ffiredjenbe IBeroeife, baf) fie fatfd). 3 a g o. 3d) t)affe bieS ©efdjdft: Sod) roeit id) tiierin fdjon fo roeit gegangen, SSerlodt burd) Sieb’ unb buntme 9teblid)feit, 20 ©o faijr' id) fort. — 3d) fd)tief ntit ©affio fiingft, Unb ba ein arger ©dimers im gabn in id) qudlte, ft'onnt’ id) nidft vuf)’n. $Run giebt e8 bDcenfdjen bon fo fd)(affem ©etft, Saf) fie im Sraunt auSfdjroaben, roa§ fie tt)un, 25 Unb ©affio ift ber 5trt. 3 m ©d)tafe feufjt’ er: ©tifee SeSbemona! ©ei aditfam, unfre Siebe bait’ getjeim ! — Unb bann ergriff unb briidt’ er meine £>anb, )Rief: ©iifje§ ' ftinb ! *- unb ti'ifite mid) mit 3nbruitft, 30 3US roottt’ er ftiiffe mit ber SBur^el reiffen dits meinen Sippen, legte bann bad 53eiit ?tuf nteineS, feufjt’ unb fiifite mid) unb rief: S8erroiinfdjte§ So§, ba§ bid) bem 3Robrcn gab! Dtp. £> greutid)! greuiid) ! 35 3 ago. 9lun, bie§ roar nur Sraunt. Dtp. Sod) er beioieS borbergegangne Spat. - 3ago. ©in fd)lintm SBebenten ift’§, fei’S aud) nur Sraunt Unb bient bietteicpt jur ©tube anbrer ifiroben, 40 Sie fdfroad) beroeifen. C 1 1). 3n ©tiide re if)’ id) fie! 3 ago. SfJein, mafjigt eud) ; nod) fet)’n roir nid)t« getpan; 3^od) tann fie fcpuibloS fein. Sod) fagt bie§ ©ine, 53 OTHELLO. 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. Iago. I know not that: but such a handkerchief— 5 (I’m sure it was your wife’s) — did I to-day See Cassio wipe his beard with. Oth. If it be that, — Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers, It speaks against her with the other proofs. 10 Oth. 0, that the slave had forty thousand lives! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see ’tis true. Look here, Iago'; All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven: ’Tis gone. 15 Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell! Yield up, 0 love, thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For ’tis of aspics’ tongues! Iago. Yet be content. 20 Oth. 0, blood, blood, blood! Iago. Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change. Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne’er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on 25 To the Propontic and the Hellespont, Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne’er look back, ne’er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide rq^enge Swallow them up. ( Kneels .) Now, by yond marble heaven, 30 In the due reverence of a sacred vow I here engage my words. Iago. Do not rise yet. \ICneels. Witness, you ever-burning lights above, 35 You elements that clip us round about, Witness that here Iago doth give up The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrong’d Othello’s service! Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, 40 What bloody business ever. [ They rise. Oth. I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to’t: 54 Otfjeffo. 10 15 20 25 35 ibr nie fortft in eureS 38eibe§ £>anb ©in feineS Xud), mit ©rbbeer’n bunt geftidt? Ctb. eine§ gab icf) ibr, ntein erft ®efd)enf. 3 ago. 3)a§ mufd r id) nidjt. Mein mit foW&etn £ud) (©emifc mar e§ ba§ i^re) fab id) b e ut’ ©affio ben SBart fid) mifdjen. Dtt). SSdr 7 e § “ 3 ago. ®a3, ober fonft ein§, fam’S toon ibr, fo *eugt ©§ gegen fie nebft jenen anbern geid)en. DU). 01 baf$ ber ©flat> ? ^ebntanfenb Seben battel ©in T § ift p ann, p fd)toacb fur tneine IEacf)e l Sttun feb r id), e§ ift mabr. S3lid T ber, 0 Sago! ©0 blaf’ id) tneine £ieb r in atte SSinbe : — §in ift fie. — Mf, fcbmar^e fftad)M au3 beiner tiefen §oIIe! ©ieb, fiiebe, beine $ron’ nnb ©erjen3mad)t £t)rann’fd)em £>afU 3)id) fprenge beine fiaft, D 23ufen, angefiidt mit Mtterpngen! 3 ago. 3d) bitf eud), rubig. Dtb- Slut 0 Sago! SB tut 1 Sago, ©ebulb, toietteid)t nod) dnbert ibr ben ©inn. Dtb. 9Me, Sago, nie! ©0 meit be§ s $ontu§ SO^eer, 3)e$ eifger ©trom nnb fortgemd^te glut 92ie riidmdrtS ebben mag, nein, unaufbattfam 3n ben $roponti§ roUt unb Hellespont: ©0 foil mein blufger ©inn in mut’gem ©ang 9Ue umfd)au r n, nod) pr fanften Siebe ebben, SBi§ eine toottgeniigenb r meite 9tad)e Sbn ganj toerfdjtang. (@r fniet nieber.) 9htn, beint frpftatt' nett Either, ^it fd)utb r ger ©brfurdft toor bent beifgen ©ib, SBerpfanb ? id) b*er mein SSort. Sago. ©tebt nocb nid)t auf. — fsniet aud). SBe^eug’tS, ibr emig gtiibn’ben £id)ter bortl Sbr ©(entente, bie ibr unS umfd)tiefet! SBe^eugt, baft Sago bier fid) meif)t mit altem, SSaS fein SBerftanb, toaS £er§ unb §anb toermag, Dtpetto’S ©d)ntad) p abnben! ©r gebiete, Unb p gebord)en fei mix £iebeSpftid)t, SSie btutig and) bie STbat. [@ie ftefjen auf Dtp. 3d) grille beine Siebe 9ftit eittem 3)ant nid)t, nein, mit freub'gem Sa, Unb augenbtidtid) fiibr f icb bid) anS SSerf; 54 OTHELLO. Within these three days let me hear thee say That Cassio’s not alive. I ago. My friend is dead; ’tis done at your request: But let her live. 5 Oth. Damn her, lewd minx! 0, damn her l 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. Iago. I am your own for ever. [Exeunt. 10 Scene IV. Before the Castle . Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown. Des. Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies? Clo. I dare not say he lies any where. Des. Why, man? 20 Clo. He’s a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing. Des . Go to: where lodges he? Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie. Des. Can any thing be made of this? 25 Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a lodging and say he lies here or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat. Des. Can you inquire him out, and be edified by re- port ? 30 Clo. I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions, and by them answer. Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well. 35 Clo. To do this is within the compass of man’s wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing it. [Exit. Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? Emil. I know not, madam. 40 Des. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor Is true of mind and made of no such baseness As jealous creatures are, it were enough Dtfjdlo. Safi in brei £agen mid) turn bir fcernebnten, S)afi (Saffio nid)t mebr lebt. 3a go. 9ftein greunb ift tot; ibr mottt% e§ ift gefd)eb ? n: — ©ie aber jc^ont. 5 £)tt). $8erbammt, toerbammt fei fie, bie f)it6fcf)e ®irne 1 fotnm, folge Ijetmtid) mir, icf) mitt iin ©tilten (Silt fd)nefle3 S£obe3mittet mir t>erfd)affen g-iir biefen fcbbtten Teufel. - Tain bift bu mein lieutenant. 3 ago. Qd) bin auf emig euer. [©ic getjen aB. Dicrte Sjcttc. $8 or bem ©d)toffe. „„ ®c§bemona ( (&mttia, bcr Starr. la 2) e3b. £>e! 3Betftt bit, in metdjer ®egenb Sieuteuant (Saffio Itegt? 9£arr. 3d) modjte ntd)t fagen, baft er irgenbmo tiige. $)e§b. SBarum? 20 Sftarr. (Sr ift ein ©otbat, unb mottf id) fagen, baft ein ©ot= bat titge, ba§ ginge an |)at§ unb $ragen. $)e§b. 9£idjt bod), mo motjnt er? 9?arr. (Sud) fagen, mo er motjnt, t)ief)e eud) fagen, mo id) luge. $e§b. 3ft barau§ motjt ting $u merben? — 25 s Jl a r r. 3^ meife nid)t, mo er motjnt, unb fottf id) eine SSotjnung au§ berSuft greifeit mtb fagen, er liegt tjier, ober tiegt ba, ’ — ba§ tjiefee in nteinen §at§ ^ineintitgen. 3) e§b. $annft bu itjn motjt au*frageit unb bid) nad) bem 23ejd)eib ntit $ernuitft geberben? 30 9£arr. 3^) KhCI bie 28ett tjinburd) tatecfjifieren, ba§ §ei^t : gragen ftetten unb fie antmorten taffen. 3)e§b. ©udje i^n auf, unb fd)ide ibn fjer: faae ibrn, id) babe nteinen ®emat)t fur ibn geftimmt, id) I)offe, atte§ merbe nod) gut. 35 9c a r r. "®ie§ au^urid)ten reid)tnidjt itber ba§ SBerntbgen be§ menfdjtid)en ©eifte§, unb barum mitt id) ba§ 2tbeuteuer beftebeu. [2tB 3)e§b. 2Bo bab T id) itur ba§ £ud) bertegt, (Smitia? (Sm it. 3$ meifi nidjt, gnab'ge gran. 40 $ e § b. ©laub' mir, Oiet tieber mi^t r id) meine 33orfe f $ott Doit (Srufabog. 2Bar' mein ebter 9ttobr 9M)t grojsgefinnt unb frei Uotn niebern ©toff 3)er (Siferfudjt, bie3 fount' auf fd)timme 9)tonung OTHELLO. To put him to ill thinking. Emil. Is he not jealous? Des. Who, he? I think the sun where he was born Drew all such humours from him. 5 Emil. Look, where he comes, i Des. I will not leave him now till Cassio Be call’d to him. Enter Othello. 10 How is ’t with you, my lord? Oth. Well, my good lady. [Aside] 0 , hardness to dis- semble ! — How do you, Desdemona? Des. Well, my good lord. 15 Oth. Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady. Des. It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow. Oth. This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart: Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, 20 Much castigation, exercise devout; For here’s a young and sweating devil here, That commonly rebels. ’Tis a good hand, A frank one. Des. You may, indeed, say so; 25 For ’twas that hand that gave away my heart. Oth. A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands; But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts. Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise. Oth. What promise, chuck? 30 Des. I’ve send to bid Cassio come speak with you. Oth. I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me; Lend me thy handkerchief. Des. Here, my lord. Oth. That which I gave you. 35 Des. I have it not about me. Oth. Not? Des. No, indeed, my lord. Oth. That is a fault. That handkerchief 40 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 subdue my father Dtfjetto. (SrniL SBeift er nid)t^ t>on (£iferfud)t? $De§b. 2Ber? (£r? — $)ie (Bonn 1 in feinem Sanbe, g(aub r id), ©09 aHe foldfe $)itn)V i^m au§. 5 ©mil. $)a fommt er. 3)e3b. Qldj roitt ibn je£t nid)t laffen, bi§ er ©affio .gurudberief. 0 1 1) c n 0 tritt auf . 10 2 Bie gel)t bir’§, mein ©tfjeHo? ©tb- 2 Bobl, teure grau! (23eifeite.) © Oual, fid) berfteffen ! — (Saut.) 2Bie geljt bir% 3)e§bemona? 3 )e§b. ©ut, mein Nearer. 15 ©tb- ®ieb beine §anb ntir. — $)iefe |>anb i ft inarm. $)e§b. ©ie ^at and) filter rticf)t nod) ©rant gefiiblt. ©tb. $)ie§ beutet grudjtbarfeit, freigeb'gen ©inn; — £>ei{ 3 f beife, ltnb feudjt ! ©old) einer §anb ge^iemt $lbtotung non ber 2 Belt, ©ebet unb gaften, 20 $iel ©eibftfafteiung, 21 nbad)t, fromnt geiibt; 3)enn jung unb brennenb loobnt ein Teufel b*er, 3)er leid)t fid) auflebnt. r § ift ? ne milbe |>anb, SDie gern t>erfd)enft. ® e § b. ®u fannft fie mob! fo nennen: 25 &enn biefe £>anb tnar’§, bie mein §er§ bir gab. ©tb. @ine offne §anb: fonft gab ba3 ^erj bie §anb; 3)ie neue SSabbenfunft ift: §anb, nid)t §er$. $>e§b. Nation Derfteb’ id) nid)t§. Stout, bein SSerfbredjen? Dtb- 28eld) r ein $erfbred)en, $inb? — 30 3)e3b. 3d) lieft ben ©affio rufen, bid) fpred)en. Dtb- SDtod) blagt ein toiberioart'ger, bbfer ©d)nubfen ; Seib r mir bein £afd)entud). $)e§b. §ier, mein ©emabl. ©tb. $)a§, loelc be§ icb bir gab. 35 3)e§b. 3dj b a b T § nid)t bei mir. ©tb- 9tod)t? $)e3b. 28irflid) nid)t, mein Xeurer. ©tb- mub icb tabeln: biefe§ Sud) ©ab meiner Gutter ein ^eunerioeib : 40 'ne Qaub’rin tnar% bie in ben §er§en la§. ©0 lange fie’§ betoabrte, fprad) ba§ 2 Beib, SBixrb’ e§ ibr Sfteift fcerleib'n nnb nteinen $ater 56 OTHELLO, Entirely to her love; but if she lost it, Or made a gift of it, my father’s eye Should hold her loathed, and his spirits should hunt After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me; 5 And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, • To give it her. I did so: and take heed on’t; Make it a darling like your precious eye- To lose’t or give’t away were such perdition As nothing else could match. 10 Dfs. Is’t possible? Oth. “Tis true: there’s magic in the web of it: A sibyl, that had number’d in the world The sun to course two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sew’d the work; 15 The worms were hallow’d that did breed the silk : And it was dy’d in mummy which the skilful Conserv’d of maidens’ hearts. Des. Indeed! is’t true? Oth. Most veritable; therefore look to’t well. 20 Des. Then would to God that I had never seen’t! Oth. Ha! wherefore? Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash? Oth. Is’t lost? is’t gone? speak, is it out o’ the way? Des. Heaven bless us! 25 Oth. Say you? Des. It is not lost; but what an if it were? Oth. How ! Des. I say, it is not lost. Oth. Fetch’t, let me see’t. 30 Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. This is a trick to put me from my suit: Pray you, let Cassio be receiv’d again. Oth. Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives. Des. Come, come ; 35 You’ll never meet a more sufficient man. Oth. The handkerchief! Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio. Oth. The handkerchief! Des. A man that all his time 40 Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shar’d dangers with you,— Oth. The handkerchief! Des. In sooth, you are to blame. 57 Dtfjetto. Hn ibre Siebe feffelrt; bod) Oerlore Dber oerfdjenfte fie% fatt miirbe bamt @ein 23Iicf fie fdjeu’n, feirt litftern duge dad) tteuent deig: fie, fterbenb, gab tk ntir, 5 Unb bief* ntir% menu ntein 6d)tcffal midi Oerntabtte, 3)er ©attin geben. 2)ie§ gefd)a^ : nun bitf e3 9dit garter fiiebe, gteid) bent dugenftern. SBedorft bu% ober gabft e§ fort, e§ tndre ©in Unveil obne dZafe. 10 2)e§b. 2Bie? ift e§ mbglid)? Dtb. 3a mobd in bent ©emebe ftecft diagie; ©ine ©ibtyde, bie ben Somtentauf Stneifjunbertmal bie SBatjn Dodenben fab, §at im £robbeFfd)en SBabnfinn e§> gemebt- 15 ©emeibte 28itrmer fbannen ibr bie 0eibe, @ie fftrbfS in dhtmienfaft, ben fie ntit ®unft du§ 3wngfrau T nbergen gog. SDe§b. SBirftid)? ift’§ mabr? Dtb- §bd)ft guUedaffig; brunt bemabd e§ mobt. 20 £>e§b. $)ann motCte ©ott, id) batf e§> nie gefeb'n. Dtb. ©a! unb meftbatb? ®e§b. 2Ba§ ft>rid)ft bu fo auffaltenb unb fo fd)nelt? Dtb- 3ft- § fort? Oedoren? ©jnrid) ! 3ft r 3 nid)t oorbanben 3)e3b. ©ott belf ntir! 25 Dtb- dun? $)e*§b. ’& ift nid)t dedoren; menn r § nun aber mare? Dtb. $a! — $)e§b. 3cb fctg% e§ ift nod) ba. Dtb. 2)ann boF e§, geig r ntid§. 30 3)e§b. QaZ fomtf id), $err, adein id) mid t& nid)t. dlit fo!d)em ^unftgriff tneic^ft bu ntir nid)t att§ — 3d) bitf bid), nintnt ben ©affio mieber an. Dtb* ©o bole ntir ba§ £ud); ntir abnet @d)litnnte§. $)e§b. 0ei gut! 35 3Du finbft nid)t mieber fotdjen tiid)Fgen diann. Dtb- ®ci$ £ud) — £)e§b. 3<^ bitte, fbridj Don ©affio! Dtb- £)a§ Xud) — 3)e§b. ©r ift ein dcamt, ber ad fein ©tiicf 40 don je auf beine $reunbfd)aft bat gebaut, — Dtb- $)a§ £ud) — - £)e3b. ^itrmabr, bu tbuft nidjt recbt! 57 8 OTHELLO. Oth. Away ! [Exit. Emil. Is not this man jealous? Des. I ne’er saw this before. Sure, there’s some wonder in this handkerchief: 5 I’m most unhappy in the loss of it. Emil. ’Tis not a year or two shows us a man : They’re all hut stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they’re full, They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband! 1() Enter Cassio and Iago. Iago. There is no other way; ’tis she must do’t: And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her. Dcs. How now, good Cassio! what’s the news with you? 15 Cas. Madam, my former suit: 1 do beseech you That by your virtuous means I may again Exist, and he a member of his love Whom I with all the office of my heart. Entirely honour: I would not be delay’d. 20 If my offence be of such mortal kind That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, Nor purpos’d merit in futurity, Can ransom me into his love again, But to know so must be my benefit; 25 So shall I clothe me in a forc’d content, And shut myself up in some other course, To fortune’s alms. Des. Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio! My advocation is not now in tune; 30 My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him, Were he in favour as in humour alter’d. So help me every spirit sanctified, As I have spoken for you all my best, And stood within the blank of his displeasure 35 For my free speech! You must awhile be patient: What I can do I will; and more I will Than for myself I dare : let that suffice you. Iago. Is my lord angry? Emil. He went hence but now, 40 And certainly in strange unquietness. Iago. 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 58 Duetto. Dtlj. |)inmeg! [5TB. IS mil. 3ft ber nidjt eiferfiidjtig? $)e§b. @o fat) id) it)n nodj me l — (#emij 3 , ein 3 a ^^ er ftecft in jenem £udj: 6 (Sin wastes unglucf, bafj id) e§ Uerlor. (Smil. ^an lernt ben ^fiattn nid)t au§ in einent 3dlj*; ©ie ade finb nur 9ftagen, mir nnr ®oft; ©ie fd)lingen un§ fynab unb finb fie fatt, ©pei 7 n fie un§ au§. ©el)t! (Saffio unb mein ^ 3 a g o unb (S a f f i o treten auf . 3ago. $)a ift fein anbrer Seg, fie ntu| e§ tljun; Unb fietp, mie ati icflid}! gel) 7 , befturme fie. $)e§b. $un, Ueber (Saffio, fagt, mie get)t e§ eud) ? 15 (Saff. SUlein alt ®efud). 3^ bitf eud), gnab 7 ge 3rau, Safet mid) burd) euer fraftig giirmort mieber* (Srftefpn unb STeil an feiner greunbfdjaft finben, $)en id) ntit ganger Siebe meine§ ^er §en§ SSreulid) Oerebre: — nid)t t>er^og 7 re fid) 7 §: .20 3ft mein $ergeb’n fo tbblidj jdjmerer 2lrt, 3)af3 meber tmr 7 ger $)ienft nod) jejpge 9?eu, 91od) $orfab, fiinfttg eblen SDienft $u tbun, s DUr feine Sfteigung mieber faun gemimten, ©o mivb mirS 5Bof)Itl^at fein, e§ nur $u miffen; 25 3)ann borg 7 id) rnir er^mung’ite greubigfeit, Unb fud) 7 auf einer neuen 8eben§babn $)e§ ©liicf§ ^tlmofen. 2)e§b. 2ld), mein ebler (Saffio, $)ie§mal ift meine 9lnmaltfd)aft nntfonft; 30 ^Jlcin §err ift nid)t mein i>erv ; id) fount 7 ibn nid)t, Scir 7 er irn 2lntli£ tnie im ©eift oermanbelt. — ©o mag mir jeber fromme (Sngel belfen, Sie id) fiir end) nad) beften $raften fpradj; Unb felbft auf fein en ftoxn fyab’ id) 7 § gemagt 35 3)urd) breifte§ Sort ! 3b* tniifjt eud) nod)' gebulben . 2Ba£ id) nermag, ba§ tbu 7 id); tbu 7 nod) mebr, 2ll§ id) fiir mid) je magte; bie§ geniig 7 eud). 3 a go. 3ft er er^iimt? 1 (Smil. (Sr ging nnr eben fort 40 Unb mir Hid) ungemobnlid) aufgeregt. 3ago. $ann er 'in Qorn fein? 5)ie Danone fab id) 3bnt feine ©rf)lad)treib 7 n fprengen in bie £uft Unb mie etu Teufel il)m ben eignen Gruber 58 8 * / OTHELLO. Puff’d his own brother; — and can he be angry? Something of moment, then: I will go meet him: There’s matter in ’t indeed, if he be angry. Des. I pr’ythee, do so. [Exit Jago. 5 Something, sure, of state, Either from Venice, or some unhatch’d practice Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases Men’s natures wrangle with inferior things, 10 Though great ones are their object. ’Tis even so; For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful members even to that sense Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such ohservancy 15 As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, I was, unhandsome warrior as I am, Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; But now I find I had suborn’d the witness, And he’s indicted falsely. 20 Emil , Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think, And no conception nor no jealous toy Concerning you. Des. Alas the day! I never gave him cause! Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer’d so; 95 They are n bi§ gum ^leufjerften berfudjen. ©aff. Qd) bant' in 3)emut, gndb'ge gvau! [$e§bemona unb ©mitia ab 35 58 i arte a tritt auf. Si art c a. ©ott gritf*' bid), ©affio! ©aff. 28ie tommft bn ^ie^er? 2Ba§ treibft bu, nteine aderfd)onfte Sianca? 40 Qnft modf id) gu bir fommen, liebe§ £>erg. S i a n c a. Unb id) mar eben untermegS gu bir. 29a§? ©ine2Sod)e tonnt’ft bu aufjeri bleiben? ©ieben Sag' nnb s J?dcl)te? — 8MjttnaI gmangig ©tunben, OTHELLO. Eight score eight hours? and lovers 1 absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? 0 weary reckoning! Cas. Pardon me, Bianca: 5 I have this while with leaden thoughts been press’d; But I shall, in a more continuate time, Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, [i Giving her Desdemona’s handkerchief '. Take me this work out. 10 Bian. 0 Cassio, whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend: To the felt absence now I feel a cause: Is ’t come to this? Well, well. Cas. Go to, woman! 15 Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now That this is from some mistress, some remembrance: No, in good troth, Bianca. Bian. Why, whose is it? 20 Cas. I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber. 1 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? 25 Cas. I do attend here on the general; And think it no addition, nor my wish, To have him see me woman’d. Bian. Why, I pray you? Cas. Not that I love you not. 30 Bian. But that you do not love me. I pray you, bring me on the way a little; And say if I shall see you soon at night. Cas. ’Tis but a little way that I can bring you; For I attend here: but I’ll see you soon. 35 Bian. ’Tis very good; I must be circumstanc’d. \Exeunt. 40 60 DtfjeEo Unb ad)t nod)? Unb einfame Siebe^jtunben, £angmeil’ger, at§ ber geiger, ^unbertmal? D laft’ge dfedjnung! (£aff. ‘ gurne nid)t, mein ®inb; 5 $Rid) briidte fdjmere ©or g’ in alt ben £agen ; 3)od) merb’ id) bir $u ungeftorter 3eit $)ie lange 9fed)nung titgen. — Siebfte Bianca, [(Sr giefit i^r SJc^bemona’s Xucf). geicbne bie§ ^flufter ab. 10 Bianca. ($i, looker fam bie§? $)a§ ift ein $fanb bon einer neuen greunbin. ^)ein 2Begfein fcbmer^te, bocf) ber ©runb nod) mebr: $am e§ fo meit? 9?un gut, fdjon gut! — (Safi. ©et), SPiabdjen, 15 SSirf ben $Berbad)t bem Teufel in§ ®ejtd)t, $on bem er fam. 92uu, bift bu eiferfitd)tig, $)ie§ fei Doit einer Siebften mir gefd)enft? — 92ein, glaub’ mir% SBianca! — Bianca. ‘Iftun, unb motjer fam’3? 20 (£aff. Qd) meib nid)t, ®inb, id) fanb’§ auf meinem Simmer; $)ie ©tiderei gefattt mir: eb’ matt’£ forbert (28a3 balb gefdjeb’n faun), miinfdjt’ id)’§ nad)ge 5 eid)net: $>a nimm’3 unb tbu’3 mtb tab mid) jetd aflein. Bianca. 5ldein bid) laffen ? unb marunt? 25 ©a (f. 3d) mub bier marten auf ben (General; Unb nid)t empfebtenb mar’ mir’§, nod) ermiinfd)t, 3anb’ er mid) fo begleitet. Bianca. Unb marunt uid)t? (£aff. 9Ud)t, bab id) bicf) nid)t tiebte, 30 Bianca. 9mr, bab bu ntid) nid)t tiebft. 3d) bitt 7 bid), bring’ mid) etmaS auf ben 28eg; Unb fag’ mir, fommft bu mobt t)eut’ 2(benb ^eitia? © a f f 3d) faun ein fur§e§ ©tiid nur mit bir geb v n, 28eil id) bier marte: bod) id) feb’ bid) batb. 35 Bianca, ©d)on gut; man mub fid) fiigen in bie geit. [@ie gcfjett nt). 40 60 OTHELLO. ACT IV. Scene I. Cyprus. Before the Castle . Oth . 5 I ago. Oth. Iago. To Iago. Or to be naked with her friend in bed An hour or more, not meaning any harm? Oth. Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm! It is hypocrisy against the devil: 15 They that mean virtuously, and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven. Iago. So they do nothing, ’tis a venial slip: But if I give my wife a handkerchief, — Oth. What then ? 2o Iago. Why, then, ’tis hers, my lord; and, being hers, She may, I think, bestow ’t on any man. Oth. She is protectress of her honour too: May she give that? Iago. Her honour is an essence that’s not seen ; 25 They have it very oft that have it not: But, for the handkerchief, — Oth. By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it: Thou said’st, — 0 , it comes o’er my memory, As doth the raven o’er the infected house, 30 Boding to all, — he had my handkerchief. Iago. Ay, what of that? Oth. That’s not so good now. Iago. What, If I had said I had seen him do you wrong? 35 Or heard him say, — as knaves be such abroad, Who having, by their own importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose But they must blab — 40 Oth. u Hath he said any thing? Iago. He hath, my lord; but be you well assur’d, No more than he’ll unswear. Oth. What hath he said? 61 OtfjeHo. SSierter Stufjug. ®r|le Sjcnc. ©ijpern. gimmer auf b em ©dj Ioffe. 5 Dtljello unb Sago. 3 ago. 9$ie bi’tnft ettcf) ba§? £)tf). 28a§ foil mid) biinten? 3 a g o. 2Ba§, ©id) tjeimlid) fiiffen ? 10 Ottj. ©in Derbofner $ufj! — 3 ago. Dber nadt int 93ett mit i^rem greunbe fern, 2$of)i ©tunben tang unb metjr in after Unfdjutb? 0tb- $nt $ette, 3 a go, unb in alter Unfdfutb? ^aS t)iebe |>eud)ete t fa mit bem Steufel! 15 2Ber feufdj fein mitt unb fotdje§ tljut, be§ Stugenb $erfud)t ber Steufet, unb er felbft ben §itnmet. 3 ago. SBenn fie nicf)t3 tt)aten, mar ber get)t nid)t groft; S£)od), menu id) meiner $rau ein Stud) nerefmt — Dti). 9iun bann? 20 3 ago. Sftun, bann getjort 7 § U)r, gttdb r ger §err : unb fotglid) $arf fie 7 § t>erfd)enfen, mein 7 id), menu fie mitt. £tt). ©ie ift ©ebieterin and) iljrer ©t)re; 2) arf fie bie aud) Uerfd)enten? — 3 ago. $)ie ©fjr 7 ift nur ein unficf)tbare§ 28efett, 25 Unb oft befittt fie ber, ber fie nid)t ^at : 9lttein ba§ Sud) Dtb. 23ei ©ott! mit greuben pit 7 id) ba3 Uergeffen: — S£)u fagteft, — o, e§> fcfjmebt urn mein ©ebdd)tni3, ©o mie ein tttab 7 um ein nerpeftet §au§, 30 SSerberben brau’nb, — er Ijabe jene3 Stud). 3 ago, Sftun, ma3 benn? Dtt). S£)a§ ift bodj nidjt gut, aemib! 3 ago. ©agt 7 id) nod) gar: 3d) fat) itjn eudj befd)imbfen, 35 Dber fjort 7 if)n fagen, — mie’§ benn ©djurfen giebt, 3) ie, menu fie burdj if)r ungeftiune§ SSerben, Dber burd) frei SBergeffen eine§ £8eibe§. ©ie jmangen ober tirrten, nimmer rutj’n, $8i§ fie gefcbmatd, _ 40 D t b* ' $at er fo ma§ gefagt? 3 ag o. 3)a§ b Q t er, gnab 7 ger §err! Sfcocf) feib tterfidjert, $id)t met)r, at§ er abfdfmbren mirb. •Dtb. 23a§ fagt 7 er? 61 OTHELLO. Iago. ’Faith, that he did — I know not what he did. Oth. What? what? Iago. Lie — Oth. With her? 5 Iago. With her, on her; what you will, Oth. Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome.— Handker- chief — confessions — handkerchief! — To confess, and be hanged for his labour; — first, to be hanged, and then to con- 10 fess. — F tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction. It is not words that shake me thus. Pish ! Noses, ears, and lips. — Is ’t possible? — Confess — handkerchief! — 0 devil!— [ Falls in a trance. 15 Iago. 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 ! ^ Enter Cassio. How now, Cassio! Cas. What’s the matter? Iago. My lord is fall’n into an epilepsy : 25 This is his second fit; he had one yesterday. Cas. Rub him about the temples. Iago. No, forbear; The lethargy must have his quiet course: If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by ZO Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs: Ho you withdraw yourself a little while, He will recover straight: when he is gone, I would on great occasion speak with you. [Exit Cassio. How is it, general? have you not hurt your head? S5 Oth. Dost thou mock me? Iago. I mock you ! no, by heaven. : Would you would bear your fortune like a man! Oth. A horned man’s a monster and a beast. Iago. There’s many a beast, then, in a populous city, 40 And many a civil monster. Oth. Did he confess it? Iago. Good sir, be a man; Think every bearded fellow that’s hut yok’d 62 Otfietto. Qaqo. Safe er bei it>r, — id) Weifi nid)t, tuie er fagte, — ©ti 2Ba3? SGSaS? Sago. ©elegen - ©tf). '*> r ? 5 3aqo. 33ei ipr, auf iffr, tt>ie it)r roollt. Dtp. ®ei ii)f gelegen! auf ipr! ®a3 2nd) — biefe ©e= ftattbniffe — baS'Sucp — ©ingeftep’n, unb bantt fitr bie TOpe gepangt toevben ; juerft gepdngt , bamt eingeftep’n. — gd) jitt’re bador! — 9Jatur tuiii'be fidi nid)t in fo derfm= 10 fternbe Oualen derpitHen , mare e§ nicpt SSorbebeuturtg. 9Hd)t SBapnbilber, bie mid) fo erfcpiittern! — £>u! fRafen, ©pten unb Sipped : ift e§ ntbglicp? ©ingeftep’n, — Xud), o SteufeU — [®r fallt in Df)nmad)t. 15 3<* go. 0ei mirlfam, ©ift, 0et mirtfantl alfo fanat man glaub’ge barren; Mand) macfre, leitjdje grau !ommt grabe fo ©art^ fc^ulblo^ in§ ©efcbrei. - 2luf, gndb’ger $errl — Ot^eUo ! — ©ttdb’ger ©err ! — ^ (£affio tritt auf. 2Ba§ mottt ibr, ©ajfio? — ©aff. 2Ba§ qiebt’3? 3ago. $er ftelbberr ftiirjte \t%\ in ftrdmbfen ^in; 25 £)ie3 ift feit geftern fdjott feirt jroeiter StnfaU. ©aff. 0o rei6 r ibn um bie 0d)iafe! 3a go. 9£eut. laft ab: 2a f) i^n in feiner ©tarrfudjt ungeftort; 0onft fdfaumt er nor bem Mu nb unb raft al^batb so 3n milber Xobfud)t. 0ieb, er riibrt fid) toieber ; ©utferne bid) auf einen Stugenblid, ©r mirb fid) fdjneH ert)oten ; menu er fort ift, §atf id) nut bir ein toidjtig 28ort $u reben. — [£afHo ab. me ift eud)? §abt it)r nid)t ben $obf Uerte|t? 35 £)tb. 0brid)ft bu mir §ot)n? Qago. ©ud) ^ofinen? 9tan, bei ©ott! 3d) motif, ibr triigt eu'r 0d)idfal roie ein Mann. Dt f). ©ebornter Mann ift nur ein SBieb, ein Untier. 3 ago. 0o giebt e§ mand)e§ $ieb in grofjen 0tdbtcn 40 Unb mand)’ t>ornebme§ Untier. £5t b- ©eftanb er’§ ein? 3 ago. Mein gelbberr ! feib ein Mann; $)entt, jeber barfge Menfd), in3 3 0C b ge)pwwt, 62 OTHELLO. May draw with you: there’s millions now alive That nightly lie in those improper beds Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better. 0, ’tis the spite of hell, the fiend’s arch-mock, 5 To lip a wanton in a secure couch, And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know; And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be. Oth. 0, thou art wise; ’tis certain. I ago. Stand you awhile apart; 10 Confine yourself but in a patient list. Whilst you were here o’erwhelmed with your grief, — (A passion most unfitting such a man,) — Cassio came hither: I shifted him away, And laid good ’scuse upon your ecstasy; 15 Bade him anon return, and here speak with me: The which he promis’d. Do but encave yourself, And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns, That dwell in every region of his face; For I will make him tell the tale anew, 20 Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath, and is again to cope your wife: I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience; Or I shall say you’re all in all in spleen, And nothing of a man. 25 Oth. Dost thou hear, Iago? I will be found most cunning in my patience; But — dost thou hear? — most bloody. Iago. That’s not amiss But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw? 30 [Othello retires. Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A housewife that, by selling her desires, * Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature That dotes on Cassio; as ’tis the strumpet’s plague ; 35 To beguile many and be beguil’d by one: He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain From the excess of laughter. Here he comes: Re-enter Cassio. 40 As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad; And his unbookish jealousy must construe Poor Cassio’s smiles, gestures, and light behaviour, Quite in the wrong. 63 OttjeHo, giebt neb’en eud). TOIIionen leben ring§, 3)ie ndd)ttid) xufyn auf )Hei§gegebnem Sager, 3)a§ fie ibr eigen mabnen: ib)r ftebt beffer. £) ba§ ift @atan§feft, ©r^fpab ber ©ode, 5 ©in iibbi9 SBeib int fidjern ©b'bett fiiffen Unb feufd) fie glauben! $fte in, ©enriftbett mid id): Unb id) bie, meift id), fie ift Oerloren. Dtb. fbricbft oerftdnbig! 3a, gemifc! — 3 ago. ©ebt auf bie @eite, ©err; lo SSegebt end) in bie @d) ranten ber ©ebulb. 3nbe§ ibr gan^ don eurent ©ram dernid)tet, (©in SXu^brudj mentg jietnenb fotd)em 'SJlann) ®atn ©affio ber; id^mufet 7 ibn meg&ufcbaffen Unb euren Onfall triftig $u entfd)ulb 7 gen; 15 3)ann tub id) ibn juriicf auf ein ©eforadj; 28a§ er derbiefc. vlnn bergt end) irgenbioo Unb nterft ben ©obn, ben fepott, bie @d)abenfreube 3n jeber SDfciene feine§ 2tngeftd)t§ ; 3)enn beid)ten foil er ntir auf§ neu’ ben ©ergang, 20 28o, mann, mie oft, me tange fcbon unb mie ©r euer SBeib geber^t unb mirb; Sdcerft, fag 7 id), fein ©eberbenjpieL $D ftid bod)! — @onft bent 7 id), ibr feib gan$ unb gar nur 28ut Unb nid)t§ bon einem $£anne. 25 Dtb- ©orft bu% 3 <*go? 3d) mi d bbcbft fd)lau jefct ben ©ebulb’gen f©ielen, 3)o d), bbrft bn 7 3? bann ben $8tut 7 gen. 3 a g o. ©o ift 7 § redjt— - 3ebe§ ju fetner Qeit. — 9hm tretet feitmartS. 30 [DttjeUo tritt beifeite. igefct toitt id) ©affio ttad) SSianca fragen, ©in gute§ $ing, ba§, itjre ©unft toerfaufenb, ©id)S3rot unb Kleiber anfd)afft: bie§ ©efdjityf Sauft ©affio nad); unb ’§ ift ber Sirnen glitd), 35 9Jad)bem fie jet)n getdufdit, taufd)t einer fie; ©r, menu er Bon i£>r tjort, enueifrt fid) fautn Saut aufeutadfen. ©iet), ba fomnit er fjer : — ©affio tritt auf. 40 Unb mie er ladjett, fod Otbedo mitten; * Unb feine ungetebr 7 ge ©iferfudjt 28irb ©affio 7 3 Sad)etn, @d)er& unb teid)te§ SBefen 63 OTHELLO. How do you now, lieutenant? Cas. The worser that you give me the addition Whose want even kills me. Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on ’t. 5 [ Speaking lower . Now, if this suit lay in Bianca’s power, How quickly should you speed! Cas. Alas, poor caitiff! Oth. [aside] Look, how he laughs already! Iago. I never knew a woman love man so. 10 Cas. Alas, poor rogue! I think, i’ faith, she loves me. Oth. [aside] Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out. Iago. Do you hear, Cassio? Oth. [aside] Now he importunes him To tell it o’er: go to; well said, well said. 15 Iago. She gives it out that you shall marry her: Do you intend it? Cas. Ha, ha, ha! Oth. [aside] Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph? Cas. I marry her! what? a customer! Pr’ythee, bear some 20 charity to my wit; do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha! Oth. [aside] So, so, so, so: they laugh that win. Iago. ’Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her. 25 Cas. Pr’ythee, say true. Iago. I am a very villain else. Oth. [aside] Have you scored me? Well. Cas. This is the monkey’s own giving out: she is per- suaded I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, 30 not out of my promise. Oth. [aside] Iago beckons me; now he begins the story. Cas. She was here even now; she haunts me in every place. I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with certain Venetians; and thither comes the bauble and, by 35 this hand, she falls me thus about my neck, — Oth. [aside] Crying u 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! 40 Oth . [aside] Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. 0, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to. Cas. Well, I must leave her company. 64 DtBello. ©ana ntifjberfte^n. — 9tun, lieutenant, mie gebt’3? daff. @o fd)Iimmer, meil bu mir ben Site! giebft, ®effert SBeduft mid) totet. 3ago. §alt’ i)e§bentona feft, fo !ann’§ nid)t febten. 5 OBeifeite.) 3a, tdge bie§ ©efud) in SBiancaS -Jttacbt, 28ie fd)nett marft bu am giell daff. $)a§ arme SDing! Dtt). (Beifeite) @ef)t nur, mie er fd}ott tadjt! Qa go. 9Ue bab r id) fo tiediebt ein 2Beib gefebit. 10 daff. $)a§ gute -ftarrcben! 3a, fie liebt mid) midlid). £)tt). (Beifeite) Qe^t leugnet ed§ nur fdjmadj unb ladjfS binmeg! 3a go. £>or’ einmal, daffio £)tl). (beifeite) 3e|t beftiirmt er ibn, d§ a u gefte^n; nur fort. — IRed)t gut, redjt gut! — 15 3 ago. ©ie riibmt fid) fd)on, bu nimmft fie balb aur $rau; 3ft ba§ bein drnft? daff. $a, $a, 5a, 5a! Dtf). (beifctte) £riumbbie*ft bu, Corner, triumb^ierft bu? daff. 3d) fie %ux Sfrau nebmen? — 2Ba§! dine SBubU 20 fd)mefter? 3<5 bitf bid), babe bod) etma§ SDUtleib mit mei* nem 2Bi£; b a ^ r ib^ bod) nicbt fur fo gana ungefunb. §a, ba b a ! — £>tb- (beifeite) ©o, fo, fo; mer geminnt, ber Iad)t. 3 ago. 2Babrbaftig, bie 9^ebe gebt, bu murb'ft fie beiraten. 25 daff. 9£ein, fag’ mir bie S&abrbeit. 3 a g o. 3<5 mid ein ©d)etm fein! — £)tb. (beifeite) 3$ trage alfo bein SBranbmal? — ©ut! — daff. S)a§ bat ber dffe fetbft unter bie Seute gebra^t. $u§ ditelfeit bat fie fid) r § in ben ®opf gefetd, icf)" merbe fie bd= 30 raten; nicbt meil id)’§ Oertyrodjen babe. 0tb. (beifeite) 3ago minft mir: nun fangt er bie ©efd)id)te an. daff. dben mar fie bier; fie oerfotgt micb ii6erall. ^ceulicf) ftanb id) am ©tranbe unbfprad) mit einigen $8e- netianern, ba !ommt mabrbaftig ber ©ra^affe fyn unb, fo 35 mabr id) lebe, fadt mir fo urn ben §al§ — £)tb. (Beifeite) Unb ruft : o tieber dajfio ! ober etma§ abn* tid)e§; benn ba§ beutet feine ©eberbe. daff. Unb bdngt unb f iiftt unb meint an mir unb aerrt unb aubft mid). §a, ba, b a ’ — 40 £)tb. (Beifeite) 3etd er^abjlt er, mie fie ibn in meine hammer aog. £>, icb febe beine fftafe, aber nod) nid)t ben §unb, bem id) fie oormerfen mill. daff. 3*t ber £b a t, id) mufc fie aufgeben. 64 OTHELLO. Iago. Before me! look, where she comes. Enter Bianca. Cas. Tis such another fitchew! marry, a perfumed one. 5 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 the work?— A likely piece of work, that you should find it 10 in your chamber, and not know who left it there ! This is some minx’s token, and I must take out the work? There,— give it your hobbyhorse: wheresoever you had it, I’ll take out no work on’t. 15 Cas. How now, my sweet Bianca! how now! how now! Oth. [aside] By heaven, that should be my handkerchief! Biau. An you’ll come to supper to-night, you may; an you will not, come when you are next prepared for. [Exit. Iago. After her, after her. 20 Cas . ’Faith, I must; she’ll rail in the street else. Iago. Will you sup there? Cas. Yes, I intend so. Iago. Well, I may chance to see you; for I would very fain speak with you. 25 Cas. Pr’ythee, come; will you? Iago. Go to; say no more. . [Exit Lassio. Oth. [Advancing.] How shall I murder him, Iago? Iago. Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice? Qth. 0 Iago! 30 Iago. And did you see the handkerchief? Oth. Was that mine? Iago. Yours, by this hand: and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he hath given it his whore. 35 Oth. I would have him nine years a-killing. A fine wo- man! a fair woman! a sweet woman! Iago. Nay, you must forget that. . Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night ; for she shall not live : no, my heart is turned to stone ; 40 I strike it, and it hurts my hand.— 0, the world hath not a sweeter creature : she might lie by an emperor s side, and command him tasks. Iago. Nay, that’s not your way. Otfjeno. 3 a g o. $0?ein ©eel* ! — ©ief), ba fommt fie. SBiattca tritt auf. Safi. QaZ ift eine red)te 53ifamfa£e! 2Ba§ millft bu nur, 5 baft bu mir fo nad)laufft? Bianca. 9ftag bcr Xeitfet unb feine ©roftmutter bir nad)= laufen! — 3&a3 t)aft bu mit bem £afd)entud) Dor, ba§ bu mir jel^t eben gabft? Qd) mar eine red)te Gavrin, baji i d) ’ *S natjrn/ 3d) foil bie gan^e Arbeit abjeidjiten? 9ied)t main*' 10 fd)einlid), baft bu’3 in beinem gimmer follft gefttnben tjabeu nub nid)t miffen, mer r § ba lieft. ift ba3 ©ejd)enf irgenb ei.ne§ ©d)a£d)en§, unb id) foil bte Arbeit ab^eid)ncn? 2)a, giebt r § beinem ©tedenbferbe: looker bu r § aud) ftaft, id) merbe bie ©tiderei nid)t ab^eidjneit. 15 Saff. ©till bod), nteine jiifte Bianca! ftill bod), ftilU — Dtf). (Seifctte.) 53eim §intmel, ift ba§ nid)t mein Xafdjentttd)? 53ianca. SSiUft bu l)eut9(benb aunt Sffen fontnten, fotfju’S; miltft bu nid)t, fo to mm ein anbermal, menu bu Suft baft. 3aao. ©et) r iftr uad)! get) 7 \f)x nacb! [23iattca ab. 20 Saff. 3)a§ muf) id) moijl, fouft ^anft fie nod) in ber ©trafte. 3 ct go. 28iflft bu ^u 2tbenb bei iftr effeu? Saff. 3d) beute, ja. 3ago. ^SieUeicftt treff id) bid) bort, benn id) petite in ber Xbat nottjmenbig mit bir 511 reben. 25 Saff. $8itt’ bid), tomm! SBittft bu? 3 ago. ©ut, nid)t§ mejr. [Gaffio ab. C) t ft. (bortretenb.) 28ie ntorb ? id) if)n? 3 a go! 3 ago. 23emerftet it)r r 3, mie er ju feiner ©djanbtbat laeftte? 0t$. 0, 3ago! GO 3ago. Unb faftt iftr ba§ Xud)? £ t|. 28ar T 6 meine§ ? 3 a go. Sure§, bei biefer §anb: unb feftt nur, mie er ba§ tftorid)te SSeib, eure ©attin, ad)tet ! ©ie fcftenfte e§ i^m unb er fdjentte e§ feiner £)irne. 35 Dtt). 0! bafe id) neun 3<$re an iljm morben fonnte. — Sin ftiibfcfteS 9®eib, ein fd)bne§ 9®eib , ein fiifte^ 2Beib ! — 3 ago. $5a§ miiftt iftr je^t Dergeffen. 0tt). 9Tcag fie Derfauten unb Derberben unb jur^olte fatjren ^u nad)t; benn fie fott nid)t teben. 9tan, mein §erj ift 40 ^u ©tein gemorben; id) fcftXage baran, unb bie £>anb fdjnterst mid). 0 bie SBelt befifct tein fiiftere§ ©efdmbf ; fie ftdtte an eine£ ®aifer§ ©eitc rutjen unb iftnt ©ttaoenbienfte gebieten 3 ago. ^ein, baran ntiifct it)r nieftt benten. [tonnen. 65 9 OTHELLO. Oth. Hang her! I do but say what she is: — so delicate with her needle! — an admirable musician! 0, she will sing the savageness out of a bear! — of so high and plenteous wit and invention ! — 5 Iago. She’s the worse for all this. Oth. 0, a thousand, thousand times: — and then, of so gentle a condition! Iago. Ay, too gentle. Oth. Nay, that’s certain : — but yet the pity of it, Iago ! 10 0 Iago, the pity of it, Iago! Iago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend ; for, if it touch not you, it comes near nobody. Oth. I will chop her into messes: — cuckold me! 15 Iago. 0, ’tis foul in her. Oth. With mine officer! Iago. That’s fouler. Oth. Get me some poison, Iago ; this night : — I’ll not ex- postulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide 20 my mind again: — this night, Iago. Iago. Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. Oth. Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very good. Iago. And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you shall 25 hear more by midnight. Oth. Excellent good. [A trumpet within.] What trumpet is that same? Iago. Something from Venice, sure. ’Tis Lodovico Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him. Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants. Lod. Save you, worthy general! Oth. With all my heart, sir. Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you. £5 [ Gives him a letter. Oth. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures. [Opens the letter and reads . Des. And what’s the news, good cousin Lodovico? Iago. I am very glad to see you, signior; 40 Welcome to Cyprus. Lod. I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio? Iago. Lives, sir. Des. Cousin, there’s fall’n between him and my lord Otljetto. £)tf). ©ei fie oevbammt! 3$ fage nur, toa§ fie ift: — ©o gefd)idt mil ibrer 9?abel! — ©ine tounberioitrbige £on= tiinftterin! — 0! fie ioiirbe bie 58itbbeit eine§ 25dren ^abm fingen! — $8on fo feinent, Ijerrlidjetn 28ib, fo geiftreid)! — 5 Sago. Hub be§batb fo fd)Ummer. £)t{). 0 taufenb, taufcnbmal! — llnb bann Don fo boiber ©efddigfeit ! — 3 a go. greitid) ju gefddtg! — 0tb- 3a, ganj getotfi: aber, toie fd)abe bennod), 3 a go! — 10 0, 3^9° * tote fd)abe, Sago! — 3 ago. 28enn ibr Dertiebt in ibre ©ihtben feib, fo gebt ibr einen greibrief %u freDeln; be nn toenn’3 eud) nid)t ritbrt, ge^t e§> feinen ettoa§ an. Dtt). 3d) mil fie in ©tilde badett. SJlir §onter aufie|en! — 15 3ago. 0, e§ ift fdjdnblicb Don ibr. Dtt). 9ftit metnent lieutenant! 3 ago. $)a§ ift nocb fdjanblidjer. Dtb- ©djaff ntir ©ift, Sago; biefe 9cad)t: — 3eil, toiirb'ger ©enerat! 0tb. &in!ommen f £)err! Sob. ©ud) griiftf $enebig§ §er$og unb ©enat. 35 [@r u&ergiebt ifjm einett SBricf. Dtb- 3cb fiiffe fetne§ 28ttfen§ S)otument. [Cffuet unb tieft. £)e§b. 2Ba§ bringt ibr 92eue§, better SoboOico? Sago. ©3 freut mid) bbddidj, end) £U feben, ©ignor ! 40 SBilifommen bier in ©t)pern. Sob. Sd) banc' end). 28a§ ntad)t Sieutenant ©ajfio, §err? Sago, ©r lebt, ©ignor. 4)elb. 5D^ei n better! er ift fcblimm mit nteinem ©atten GO 9* OTHELLO. 5 10 15 20 25 SO 35 40 An unkind breach : but you shall make all well. Oth . Are you sure of that? Des . My lord? Oth. [reads! “This fail you not to do, as you will — ” Lod. He did not call: he’s busy in the paper. Is there division ’twixt my lord and Cassio? Des. A most unhappy one: I would do much To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio. Oth. Fire and brimstone! Des. My lord ? Oth. Are you wise? Des. What, is he angry? Lod. May be the letter mov’d him; For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government. Des. Trust me, I am glad on ’t. Oth. Indeed ! Des. My lord ? Oth. I am glad to see you mad. Des. Why, sweet Othello, — Oth. Devil! [Striking her. Des. I have not deserv’d this. Lod. My lord, This would not be believ’d in Venice, Though I should swear I saw ’t: ’tis very much: Make her amends; she weeps. Oth. 0 devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. Out of my sight! Des. I will not stay to offend you. [Going. Lod. Truly, an obedient lady: — I do beseech your lordship, call her back. Ofh. Mistress ! Des. My lord? Oth. What would you with her, sir? Lod. Who, I, my lord? Oth. Ay; 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, — 0 well-painted passion! — 67 Otljelto. 15 gevfallen; bod) ibr toerbet fie Derfofjnen. £>tb- ©ei b ibr be§ fo gemiji? $e§b. me, £>err? (lieft.) > 2)ie§ ju Uodbringen faumt nid)t, luenn ibrmodt — r ° Sob. (£r rief bidf) nid)t; ber S3rief befdjdftigt ibn. 3ft eine 3embfd)aft jmifdjen beinent $errn unb daffio ? $) e 3 lx 3a! red)t betrubte. 3$ gcibe oiel barunt, @ie au3$ufbbnen, benn id) liebe (£affio. Dtb- 3euer unb ©djmefel! 10 $)e3b. §err! £tb- ^3ift bu bei ©imtett? 3)e3b. 28ie? §iirnft bu? Sob. '3 ift ber ^Brief, ber ibn betoegt; $>enn, lute icb) glaube, ruft man ibn priicf, Unb (faffto loirb ftatt feiner ®out>erneur. 3)e3b. giirmabr ! 3)a3 freut mid). Otb- 3n ber £$at? $e3b. me, Serr ? Otb- W\d) freuf3, bidb tod^u fet/it. -° ®e§b. £), mein Otbelto! — Dtt). Xenfel ! [©d&iagt fie. 3)e3b. $)a3 bob’ icb nid)t fcerbient. Sob. §err (General, 3)a3 toitrbe feiner in $enebig gtauben Hnb id) and), id) fab'3. 2)a3 gefit *u welt. S3ittet ibr r 3 ah, fie toeint. O t b* t £>, Teufel! fonnte ^5)ie (£rbe fid) t>on 28eibertbrdnen fd)ft)dngern, 2lu3 jebent Sro^fen nmd)f ein Urofobil; — TOr au3 ben Eugeni JeSb. 3cb geb r , eucb nicbt ut argent. [mu a*ge$en. Sob. 3n 3®abrbeit, ein geborfam Seib! — 3d) bitt T eud), gnab’ger ©err ! ruft fie &uriicf. Dtb- 3rau 3)c3b. 5D^ein ©emabt? pptf- „ rnodt ibr mil ibr, fierr? Sob. SSer? td), $err? Dtb- Sffir timnfdjtet ja, bob fie umfebren ntbdjte: Umfebren faun fie unb bod) t>ortt>art3 geb’n, Unb mieber breb’n: unb meinen fann fie, mciuen, — Unb geborfam, mie ibr fagt — geborfam, 3eud)eln! — 67 25 30 40 OTHELLO. I am commanded home. Get you away; I'll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt! [Exit Desdemona. 5 Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night I do entreat that we may sup together: You’re welcome, sir, to Cyprus. — Goats and monkeys! [Exit. Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate 10 Call all-in-all sufficient? — Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze nor pierce? I ago. He is much chang’d. 15 Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain? Iago. He ’s that he is: I may not breathe my censure. What he might be; if, what he might, he is not, I would to heaven he were! Lod. What, strike his wife! 20 Iago. PAitli, 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? 25 Iago. Alas, alas! It is not honesty in me to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe him; And his own courses will denote him so That I may save my speech : do but go after, 30 And mark how he continues. Lod. I’m sorry that I am deceiv’d in him. [Exeunt. 53 Scene II. A Room in the Castle. Enter Othello and Emilia. Oth. You have seen nothing then? 40 Emil. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect. Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together. Emil. But then I saw no harm, and then I heard Each syllable that breath made up between them. 68 DtTjcflo. 3<4 Bin juriicf bent fen. — Get/ bu fort: 3d) fdticfe gleid) itctd) bir. — Jperr, bem S3efe^l geijord)’ id) Unb fefjre it ad) SSenebig. — o vt ! — f)inau§! — [®e§bemona getjt ab. 5 Gajfio befommt mein s dmt. Unb, £>err, bent 2tbenb Grfud) 7 id) end) mil mir §u 9?ad)t fpeifen. SBiUfommett bier in Gtjbent. — gieqen nnb Hffen! [* 6 . Sob. 3ft bie§ ber ebte ‘UJiobr, ben ber ©enat 10 ©ein Gin§ nnb 5UIe§ nennt? 2)er eble Geift, ®en Seibenfdjaft nid)t regt, be§ fefte £ugenb ®eiit ^feit be§ Qufalt^, Vein Gefcbofj be§ GliicU? ©treift nnb burd)bof)rt? ^ago. Gr bat fid) febr geanbert. 15 Sob. 3ft er nid)t mobt? £mt fein SSerftanb gelitten? 3 ago. (Sr ift fo, mie er ift; id) barf nid)t fd)etten. Gott geb 7 , er mare, ma§ er fonnte fein; 3etd ift er 7 § nid)t. Sob. 3Sa§? ©cine gran jn fd)tagen! 20 3 a 9°- Gemifc, bas mar nid)t fein; bod) munfd)t 7 id), mar 7 £)er ©cbtag fein argfte§ Xt)nn. Sob. 3fi er oft fo? ©agt, ober bat ber £Uief fein SBtut ertji&t, 2)a§ er ficb bent mtr fo Merging? 25 3 ago. S M) teibcr! 9cid)t mdr 7 § gemiffenbaft non mir, erjiiblt 7 id), 28a§ id) erfuijr nnb fab- £>abt 2(d)t anf ibn; ©ein eigner SBanbet mirb ifjn fo be$eid)nen, $>afj ibr mein SBort entbebren fount. SBemerft ib*t 30 92ur mcbr, menn ibr mit ibm ^ufamrnen feib. Sob. G§ fcfjmer^t mid), bafe id) mid) in ibm getdufdjt. [ft. Otb- 3o, bu fabft Gaffio unb fie bcifammen. Gmil. 4)od) fab id) bann fein llnred)t unb bann bod id) Sebmebe ©itbe, bie gemed)jett marb. 80 OTHELLO. Oth . What, did they never whisper? Emil. Never, my lord. Oth. Nor send you out o’ the way? Emil. Never. 5 Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? Emil. Never, my lord. Oth. That’s strange. Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other, 10 Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. If any wretch have put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There’s no man happy; the purest of their wives 15 Is foul as slander. Oth. Bid her come hither: — go. [Exit Emilia. She says enough; — yet she’s a simple bawd That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, 20 A closet lock and key of villanous secrets : And yet she’ll kneel and pray; I’ve seen her do’t. Enter Desdemona with Emilia. Des . My lord, what is your will? 25 Oth . Pray, chuck, come hither. Des. What is your pleasure? Oth. Let me see your eyes; Look in my face. Des . What horrible fancy’s this? 30 Oth. [to EmiliaJ Some of your function, mistress ; Leave procreants alone, and shut the door; Cough, or cry “hem,” if any body come: Your mystery, your mystery; nay, dispatch. [Exit Emilia. 35 Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words, But not the words. Oth. Why, what art thou? Des. Your wife, my lord; your true 40 x\nd loyal wife. Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself: Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double-damn’d, — 69 Dtljetto. Dt^. 58a§? fliifterten fie me? ©mil. -ftein, gniib'ger §err ! Ott). Unb fdjicfteu nie bid) foil? © nt i I. SftiemalS. 5 £tt). Um gather, 9fta$fe, .£mnbfd)itl) ifyr p ^oiett? ©mil. 9?ein, gnab'ger §err! Dtlj. ’ ' ’§ ift feltfam. ©mil. 3d) tuottf auf if) re Xugenb meine ©eele gum ^faube fe£en: menu ifjr anber§ beitft, 10 ©ebt nid)t bem s ftrgtool)n fftaum, ber eud) betfjbrt. 98eun bie§ ein ©rijefm eud) in ben $opf gefe^t, 3)em tofjn'£ ber Jpinxmel mit bem glut!) ber ©cfjlange! — $)enn ift nid)t biefe reblid), leufd) unb treu, 3ft tein 9ft ann gfiidlid), ift bie reinfte gran 15 ©djtoarj m ie $erleumbuna. £)tf). Saft fie fomnxen; gef)M — [©mtlia gefjt. ©ie fagt genug; bod) jebe ftupplerin ©r$af)It baSfefbe. ©d)fau ift biefe 9ftefce, 20 ©in f)etntlid) ©d)lof 3 unb Dtiegef fdjnober ©iinben: 3)od) fniet unb betet fie; id) fat) e§ felbft ! — ©mitia uub 3)e§bemona treteit auf. 3)e3b. 2Ba§ moltt ifjr, mein ©entaljf? 25 £)tf). feomrn, Xdubdjen, fonun! $)e§b. ift eu'r 28unfd)? Dtb. Safi bir in§ 2luge fefj'n; ©d)au' in3 ©eficbt mir! S)e3b. 23eld) fiird)terlidjer ©iufalf! 30 Dtt). ;ftun beine Mnfte, 5Beib§bilb! £aft 33u^Xfcf)aft nun allein unb fd)liefj r bie £f)ur; £mft' ober rnfe ^ent! menu jemanb fonxmt: $>ein ©anbmerf, an bein §anbmerf! 9ftad)' bid) fort! — [©milia gefyt ab. 35 3)e3b. 3d) fleX)e fnieenb, fag' mir, uxi§ bn meinft? 3)ein SBort Oerftefj' id) nid)t! bod) au§ bem $Sort Xbnt mitbe gurie. Ctfj. §a, ma§ bift bu? 3)e§b. $)ein 29eib, mein ©atte, 40 ^Dein bffid)tgetreue§ 98eib. O t fj. $omm, fdjtt>or% oerbamnt bid) felbft, baf 3 nid)t bie Xeufef, ©ejd)retft oon beiner ©ngefbifbung, bittern, 3)id) p ergreifen: brum oerbamm' bid) bobpelt, 69 OTHELLO. Swear thou art honest. Des. Heaven cloth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell. Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false? 5 Oth. Ah, Desdemona! away! away! away! Des. Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep? Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? If haply you my father do suspect An instrument of this your calling back, 10 Lay not your blame on me: if you have lost him, Why, I have lost him too. Oth. Had it pleas’d heaven To try me with affliction; had they rain’d All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head, 13 Steep’d me in poverty to the very lips, Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me A fixed figure for the time of scorn 20 To point his slow unmoving finger at, — 0! 0! Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: But there, where I have garner’d up my heart, Where either I must live, or bear no life; 25 The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up; to be discarded thence! Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there, Patience, thou young and rose-lipp’d cherubin, — 30 Ay, there, look grim as hell! Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. Oth. 0, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. 0 thou weed, Who art so lovely fair and smell’st so sweet, 35 That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne’er been born! Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write “whore” upon? What committed! 40 Committed! 0 thou public commoner! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed! 70 Dtfjelfo. ©d)toi5r*, bu feifttreu. $>e£b. 3)er ©irntnel toeifj, id) bin^. Otb- 3)eu §immet tueifj: fatfcf) bift bu toie bie §ode. S)e3b. 28ent? luein ®emabl ? mit toent? toie bin id) falfd)? 5 Ott). O $>e§bentona! £>intoeg, ^iutueg! — $)e§b. O £ag be§ Qammcrl! — 2 $efje! to a rum ioeinft bu? Sin id), mein ^atte, llrfad)* beiner Sbrdnen? £>aft bu oielteicbt ben Sater in Serbadjt, dr fet ba£ SBerffteitg beiner §eimberufung, 10 ©ieb mir bie ©d)ulo nid)t. ®aft bu iljn oerloren, 9htn, id) bertor ibn aud). Otb- defiel e$ ©ott, 3)urd) £ritbfal mid) ju pritfen, gofe er ©d)mad) Unb jebe ^rcinfung auf mein na'cfteS £mupt, 15 Serfenft* in ^Crmut mid) bi§ an bie £ibben, ©d)iug famt ber lenten ^offnung mid) in geffeht, &od) fdnb r id) toobl in einent ^yer^euStoinfet (Sin £rbbfd)en non ©ebulb. 2)od) mid) $u mad)en gum feften Silbe fur bie geit be§ §obn§, 20 9Jdt tangfant breb'nbem ginger brauf %u roeifen, — O! o'! — Llnb bie§ aud) fount* id) tragen, febr, febr mol)!: 3)od) ba, too id) mein ^er§ at§ ©djat) t>ertoal)rt, $80 id) mug teben ober gar nicbt teben; 25 3)er Oluett, au§ bem mein £eben ftromen tnuj 3 , ©ouft gan§ Oerfiegen — ba oertrieben jein, Ober it)n fd)au*n al§ ©umbf fitr efler Uroten Segebr unb Sriiten, — ba oerfinft*re bid), ©ebittb, bu junger rofentoangiger CSb^rub t 30 ga, fd)au* fo grintmig at§ bie .^>dtle ! 3)e3b. gd) b°ff e f ntein ©ematjl l)d(t mid) fur treu. Otb. O fa, toie ©onunerftiegen auf ber gteifdjbanf, 3)ie iut (Sntfteb’n fd)on but)ten. O bu llnfraut, ©0 rei^enb tiebtid) unb Don SDitft fo fitfj, 35 S)af 3 bit ben ©inn bctdubft — 0 toarft bu uic geboren! — 3)e§b. SMd)* unbetoujiten gebl fount* id) begeb'n? Otb- £)ie§ reiue Slatt, bie§ fcbime Sttd) nur'baju, Urn ^Beetle b*rauf $u fdtreiben ? 2 £a§ begeb’n ! ibm begegnet, SSerfterft fief) in ben ^pobiungen ber (Srbe Unb iDtll nicl)t§ batooit t)oren: ma§ begeb'n? ©djamlofe SJtcbe! ^e§b. S3ei ®ott, if)r ttiut mir unrecbt! Stft. !eine SKefce? ^e§b. 9?ein, fo rnabr id) ©btiftin: SBemt meinent §errn bemabren bie§ ©efcift $or jeber fc^noben, ftrdflidjen S3erubrung, ^eifet : feine Sttetm fein, fo bin id) feine. Otb- $)u feine £mre? ®e§b. 9Mn, fo belfe ($ott mir! Dtb. Qft ; § mbglid)? ®e§b. € $immel, fei un§ gnabiq ! 5)ann toer^eibt mir! 3$ itabm end) fur bie 2)irne toon $enebiq, 3)ie ben Dt^ello freite. — Unb bn, SBeib, ®ie toon @cmft $eter juft ba§ ©egeuteil e m ilia fommt juntcf. 3)er ^ode ^forten ftoerrt! bit, bn, ja bu! — SBir finb ju (£nbe: ntmin! 35 a ift bein ®efb! 9cun fdjliefe bie ££)ur unb §alte reinen 2Jhmb! to. ©mil. £ (Sott! ma§ b a * bocf) unfer §err itn @tnn? 58ie gebt’3 eud), teure grau? SBie gebt’3 eud), ©nab’qe? n S ^ ICi. a/S J... 11 .it ! X 35e3b. (£ m i I. 30 3)e§b. ©mil. 3)e§b. © tn i I. 3) e§ b, Sftir ift, al§ trait mf id). ©agt, toerte gran! S8a§ fe^It bem gnab'gen gerrn? SBern? Sfteinem gnab’gett ^>errn. SBer ift bein £err? 3)er aud) ber eure, liebfte gnab’ge ^ran. 3d) f)abe feinen. 6ag’ mir nidjtS, ©inilia! 3d) fann nid)t meinen, bob’ and) feine Sintmort, 3)ie nid)t ^u Staffer miirbe. 8itf bid), biefe gffodjt £eg’ auf ntein S3ett mein Srauttud) — benfe bran: Unb ruf r mir beinen SKann. ^mii. SBie bat fidj’3 b^r geanbert! to. 40 ®cSb. § t)t btflig, baft mir fo begegnet mirb! febr bidtq! Stote mar id) mtr, baft and) fein fleinfter Sirqmobn SJtein minbefte§ SBerfeb'n miftbeuten fonnte?* 35 71 OTHELLO. Re-enter Emilia with Iago. Iago. What is your pleasure, madam? How is’t with you? Bes. I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes 5 Do it with gentle means and easy tasks: He might have chid me so; for, in good faith, I am a child to chiding. Iago. What's the matter, lady? Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her, 10 Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, As true hearts cannot bear. Bes. Am I that name, Iago? Iago. What name, fair lady? Bes. Such as she says my lord did say I was. 15 Emil. He call’d her whore: a beggar in his drink Could not have laid such terms upon his callat. Iago. Why did he so? Bes. I do not know; I’m sure I am none such. Iago. Do not weep, do not weep; Alas the day! 20 Emil. Hath she forsook so many noble matches, Her father and her country and her friends, To be call’d whore? would it not make one weep? Bes. It is my wretched fortune. Iago. Beshrew him for’t! 25 How comes this trick upon him? Bes. Nay, heaven doth know. Emil. I will be hang’d, if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, 30 Have not devis’d this slander; I’ll be hang’d else. Iago. Fie, There’s no such man; it is impossible. Bes. If any such there be, heaven pardon him! Emil. A halter pardon him; and hell gnaw his bones! 35 Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company? What place? what time? what form? what likelihood? The Moor ’s abus’d by some most villanous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. 0 heaven, that such companions thou’dst unfold, 40 And put in every honest hand a whip To lash the rascals naked through the world Even from the east to the west! Iago. Speak within door. 72 Dtfjetfo. 3 a g o ltnb (S m i li a tretctt auf. 3a go. Sa§ mitnfd)t il)r, gnbb 7 ge gmu? mie gef)t e§ eud)? 2) e3b. Qd) loeifi e§ nid)t. Ser $inber unterriajtet, 5 ©icbt iljnen freunbltd) leidjte Arbeit auf: 6o fount’ er mid) ja fd)malen; benu fiirmafjr, 3d) bin etn ®inb fitr§ 0d)ntdlen. 3a go. Sa§ ift benu, gnab’ge gran? ©mil s 2ld), 3ago! fd)impfte fie ber §err. 10 Sie fd)anblid) unb berad)tenb er fie nannte, 3)a§ tragt fein treue§ §er ( v 3) e3b. 3 a go, &in id) ba§ Sort? 3ago. * Seldj 7 Sort, Sereljrte? $>e§b. $>a§, toie fie fagt, mein £)ert mir l)at gegeben? 15 ©mil. ©r fdjalt fie 9Jtcbe; nein, fein Settler fonnte 3m Otaufd) fold) 7 Sort bon feiner £)irne braud)eit. 3a go. Sarunt benn ba§? — $)e§b. 3d) toeifi e3 nid)t; genriji, id) bin e§ nicbt. 3ago. 0 meint nid)t, meint nur nid)t; bu liebe geitl 20 ©mil. Sie§ fie fo mandjen eblen 2lntrag ab, Serliefj ben Sater, greunbe, Saterlanb/ S)af 3 man fie ^fte^e fd)impfe ? 3ft r 3 nid)t $um Seinen? $£)e§b. $>a§ ift ntein traurig 6d)icffal. 3 ago. 1 -ftun, ©ott beffr 7 it)n! 25 Sie fontnit il)m fold)er ©infall? 5) e § b. Seiji ber §immel ! ©mil. 9kin, J)angt mid), menn ein ©r^berleumber itid)t, 3rgenb ein fet)meid)elnber, gefd)dft 7 aer 6d)uft, ©in alatter 0d)itrF, unt fid) ein 2lmt $u fifd)en, 30 3)ie Siigen au3gebad)t; fa, barauf fterb 7 id). 3 ago. $fui, fold)en $?enfd)en giebt 7 § nic^t ; 7 § ift unmbglid). 3)e3b. Unb giebt e£ einen f fo bergeb 7 iljm ©ott! ©mil. ©in 0tricf bergeb 7 if)tn! 9^ag 7 an if)nt bie .g>otte ! 35 Sie 5CRe^e fdjimpfen! — Ser befud)t fie je? So? Sann? Unb rcie? — So ift aud) nur ein 0d)ein? ©in red)t au§biinb 7 ger 0cf)urf 7 belog ben 90£ol)ren, ©in niebertrdd)t , ger 6dmrf 7 , ein fd)db 7 ger Sube. 0 |)immel! D?bd)t 7 ft bu fold) 7 ©ejiidjt entlarben 40 Unb jeber macfren §anb 7 ne ©eifjel geben, 3)en 0d)urfen nacft burd) alle Selt $it peitfdjen, Som Oft jum fernen Seft! Sago. 0d)reit bod) nicl)t fo ! 72 OTHELLO. / Emil . 0, fie upon them! Some such squire he was That turn’d your wit the seamy side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moor. Iago . You are a fool; go to. 5 Bcs. 0 good Iago, 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. Here I kneel: If e’er my will did trespass ’gainst his love, 10 Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, Delighted them in any other form; Or that I do not yet, and ever did, And ever will — though he do shake me off 15 To beggarly divorcement — love him dearly, Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much; And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love. I cannot say “whore,” — It does abhor me now I speak the word; 20 To do the act that might the addition earn Not the world’s mass of vanity could make me. Iago . I pray you, be content; ’tis but his humour: The business of the state does him offence, And he does chide with you. 25 Bes. If ’twere no other, — Iago . ’Tis but so, I warrant. [ Trumpets within. Hark, how these instruments summon to supper! The messengers of Venice stay the meat: 30 Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well. [Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. Enter Roderigo. How now, Boderigo! 35 Rod. I do not find that thou dealest justly with me. Iago. What in the contrary? Rod. Every day thou doff’st me with some device, Iago ; and rather, (as it seems to me now) keep’st from me all conveniency than suppliest me with the least advantage 40 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. 78 Dtfktto. ©mil. $fui itber Up! — ©old) ei n ®efelle ttmr% 2)er ebeutal§ bit* ben SSerftanb Dermirrte, 9J?id) mit bent 9Kof)ren in $erbad)t p bofon! — 3 a go. $)u btft nidjt Hug, jet ftitt ! 5 ®e§b. £> guter Qago! 28a§ foil id) tbun, ibn toieber p getuinnen? — ®eb ? p tbm, greunb; benn, bei ber (Sonne Sidjt, 3d) tueiji nid)t, tnie id) ibn Derlor. — §ier fnie T id): — 33enn je ntein §er* fid) jeiner fiieb’ etnborf 10 Qn Horten, in ©ebanfen ober X^at; 2Benn je ntein Slug, ntein £>b r nnb jonjt eitt ©inn Sin anbrer SSoblgeftalt (befallen fanb; SBenn id) nicb)t jejd ilp lteb r , Up ftetS geliebt, 3bn tmnterbar — and) toettn er mid) Derftiefee 15 SU§ S3ettlerin — Don §erjen tieben rnerbe, — $)ann, Xroft, Derlafj mid)! — Mtfimt bring! e§ toeit; Hub rauben faun jein ^altfinn ntiv ba§ fieben, $)odj nie bie £iebe minbern. 3d) !nttn nid)t fagen: $J?efce, Sfttr fdjaubert fd)on, ba id) ba§ , SBort gefprodjen; 20 $od) tt)un, ma§ bie $8efd)inipfuug nadj fid) pbt — 9Hd)t nut bie gan^e ©itelfeit ber UBelt! — 3 a g o. Qd) bitte, fafjt eud) ; r 3 ijt nur feme £aune. $)ie ©taat§gejd)dfte madjen Ujm SSerbrufi; ®a pnft er nun mit eud). 25 (De§b. $Bar r e§ nur ba§ — 3 ago. ®laubt ntir, e§ ijt nid)t§ anbre§. [90?art pvt Xvompetcn £>ord)t, bie Srombete ruft pr Slbenbtafel! Unb bie ®efaubtfd)aft Don SSenebig martet; so (M)t bin nnb mein! nid)t, ade§ mirb nod) gut. [£e§bemoita unb (Sntitia aD. OJobrigo Iritt auf. -28a§ giebt% Cfcobrigo? 35 Stob. 3d) finbe nid)t, bafj bn e§ reb(id) mit ntir nteinft. 3ago. llnb ttmrunt ba§ ©egenteil? 9vob. 3 e ^ e n Xag fertigjt bu ntid) mit einer Slu§rebe ab 3ago, unb bdltjt mid) Dielntebr (tuie mir’§ Dortommt) Don ftHer guten (Megenbeit fern, at§ bafj bu meiner .jpoffnung 40 ben geringjten $8orteil Derfd)affft. 3^) ertrage ba§ toabr- baftig nicbt longer, unb bit fotCft micb nid)t bap bringen, rubig einpfteden, toa§ id) bi§bet, mie eitt Xbor, mir bobe gefadeit tajjen. 73 10 / OTHELLO. logo. Will you hear me, Roderigo? Rod. ’Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and performances are no kin together. 5 logo. You charge me most unjustly. Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to de- liver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a votarist : you have told me she hath received them, and returned 10 me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and ac- quaintance; but I find none. I ago. Well; go to; very well. Rod. Yery well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor ’tis not very well: nay, I think it is scurvy, and begin to find 15 myself fobbed in it. I ago. Yery well. Rod. I tell you ’tis 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 solici- 20 tation; if not, assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of you. Iago. You have said now. Rod. Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing. t 25 Iago. Why, now I see there’s mettle in thee; and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo : thou hast taken against me a most just exception; but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair. 30 Rod . It hath not appeared. Iago. I grant, indeed, it hath not appeared ; and your sus- ] picion is not without wit and judgment. But, Roderigo,/ if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater 35 reason to believe now than ever, — I mean purpose,! courage, and valour, — this night show it: if thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life. 40 Rod. Well, what is is? is it within reason and com- pass ? Iago. Sir, there is especial commission come from Yenice to depute Cassio in Othello’s place. 74 Dtljello. 3ago. SBottt igr mid) aitgbren, s Jiobrigo? 9^ob. 5luf (£gre, id) gabe fcgon ^u Die! gegbrt, bemt euer s $erfgred)en unb £gun fatten nid)t gteidjen 6d)ritt mit einanber. 5 3 ago. 3gr befdmtbigt mid) gocfyft ungered)t! 9i o b. iff tauter 28agrgeit. 3d) gabe mein gan^e§ $er- mbgen ^itgefe^t. ®ie 3uineten, bie igr bon mir empfingt, um fie 3)e3bemona einpganbigen — bie |)dtfte gatte cine ^oime berfiigrt. 3g* fagtet wir, fie gabe fie angenommen, 10 unb gabt mir ^offnuna unb 9tu§fid)t auf bolbige ©unft unb (Srmiberung, aber oabei bteibf§. 3 ago. ©ut, nur rneiter, red)t gut! 9tob. 9ied)t gut, meiter! 3d) faun nid)t meiter, greunb, unb gier ift nicgt§ redjt gut. S3ei biefer ipanb, id) fage, e§ ift 15 fbibbiibifd), unb id) fange an ju merfert, bag manmidjfobbt. 3 a g o. 9^ed)t gut ! 3£ob. 3d) fage bir, e§ ift nid)t rcd)t gut. 3d) mitt mid) S)e§bemona felbft entbeden; giebt fie mir meine 3utbeteu mieber &urucf, fo laff 7 id) ab bon meiner SBemcrbung unb 20 bereue mein unerlaubteS gumuten; mo nid)t, feib gemig, bag id) ©enugtguung bon end) forbern merbe. 3 ago. £mbt igr je|t gefgrodfen? 9tob. 3a, unb gabe nid)t§ gejprod)en, at§ ma§ id) ernfttidj §u tgun gefonnen bin. 25 3 ago. @d)on! 9cun fege id) bod), bag bu $aare auf ben Batmen gaft, unb feit biefeni foment faffe id) eine beffre 9Jceinung bon bir, al3 je ^uoor. ©ieb mir beine §anb, 9tobrigo, bu §aft fegr gegriinbete (£inmenbungen gegen^ntid) borgebracgt unb bennod), fd)mbre id) bir, bin id) in bciuer 30 ©acge fet)r grabe ^u SBerfe gegangen. 9tob. $)a§ t)at fid) menig ge^eigt. 3 ago. 3d) gebe ju, bag fid) r § nicgt ge^eigt gat, unb bein vtrgmogn ift nid)t ogne $erftanb unb Sdjarffimt. 2tbcr, 9tobngo, menu ba§ mirtticg in bir ftedt, ma§ icg bir jefct 35 megr jutraue at§ je, — id) meine 28itten§fraft, Wait unb §er^ fo ^eig r e§ biefe 9tad)t. 2Benn bu in ber nckgften 9(acgt nicgt &u fceSbetffonaS $efig getangft, fo fcgaff' mid) gintertiftig au§ ber 28elt unb fteffe meiuem fieben 3atl= ftricte. 40 5R ob. ©ut, ma§ ift r § ? Siegt’3 im ©ebiet ber SJemunft unb ber 9flbgtic£)feit? 3a go. greunb, e§ ift ein auSbriicflidjer SSefegt bon Seuebia ba, bag (£a(fio in Ctgedo§ ©tette treteu fob. 74 10 * OTHELLO. Rod. Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona re- turn again to Venice. I ago. 0, no ; he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered 5 here by some accident: wherein none can be so deter- minate as the removing of Cassio. Rod. How do you mean, removing of him? I ago. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello’s place 10 knocking out his brains. Rod. And that you would have me to do? Iago. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him: — he knows not yet of his honourable fortune. If 15 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 20 such a necessity in his death, that you shall think your- self bound to put it on him. It is now high supper-time, ! and the night grows to waste: about it. 25 Rod. I will hear further reason for this. Iago. And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt. 20 Scene III. Another Room in the Castle. Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, and Attendants. Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further. 35 Oth. 0 , pardon me; ’twill do me good to walk. Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.; Des . Your honour is most welcome. Oth. Will you walk, sir? 0, — Desdemona, — 40 Des. My lord? Oth. Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look ’t be done. [Exeunt Othello, Lodovico, and Attendants. 75 Otljeflo. Sftob. 3ft fra§ trmbr? 9tun, fo getjen 0tt)etto unb 3)e§betnona nad) $enebig prud. 3 a go 0 item, er gef)t in§ ^ftofjrenlanb mtb nitnmt bie fcpbne 2)e§bemona mit fid), menn nid)t fein Wufent^att bier 5 burcb cinen 3nfatt tocrlftngcrt mirb; unb barin faun nid)t§ jo entjdjeibenb fein, al§ menn (£affio beifeite gejd)afft mirb. 9i o b. 2Bie tneinjt bu ba§ — tfjn beifeite jd)affert ? 3 a g o. 9htn, ibn fitr 0tbetto§ 2ltnt untauglici) mad)en, if)nt 10 ba§ ®ebirn au§fd)Iaqen. SRob. Unb ba§, meinft bn, fott id) tbun? 3a go. 3 a , menn bn ba§ §er$ baft, bir $orteit nnb 3ied)t gu oerfd)affen. (£r ijt fjeute §nm TOenbeffen bet einer £)irne nnb bort mitt id) if)n treffen; nod) meift er nid)t§ 15 t»on feiner ebrentmtten 23efi3rberung. $Benn bu nun anf fein SSegge^n tauern roittft (nnb id) merbe e§ einridften, baft bie§ ^mijdjen §motf nnb ein£ gefcftebe), — jo famtjt bu nad) beiner $equemttd)feit iiber tt)n berfatten; id) mitt in ber $al)e fein, nm beinen Slngriff §u unterftitften, unb er 20 jott jmifdjen nn§ beiben fatten. $omm, fteb ? nidft jo oer= munbert, jonbern fotge ntir; id) mitt bid) jo non ber 9cot= menbigfeit feine§ XobeS itber^eitgen, baft bn r § fiir $fttd)t batten jottft, ibn an§ ber 2Selt ^u fdjaffen. (£§ ijt b°b e Qeit ^um Sttbenbeffen nnb bie 9cad)t geftt bin. grijcftbaran! 25 3ft o b. 3d) ntuft nod) mebr (Minbe bbren. 3 ago. 2)a§ jottft bn jur ©enitge. [<3ie ge^en a&. 30 Dritfe Bjette. SBorfaal im 0dj Ioffe. £> 1 1) e II o , 2 o b o t> i c o , 2)e3bentona, (5 m i I i a unb © e f o t g e trcten ctuf. Sob. 34 fnttt end), £)err, bemii'bt end) nun nid)t meiter. 35 0 1 b« 0 nein, erlaubt, ba§ ^luSgeb’n tbut mir mobtt Sob. (Sdftaft, ©ncib'ge, mobll id) fag’ end) meinen $)anf. §)e§b. 3br mart un§ febr mittlontmen, $err! 0tb. Gotten mir gebttt, 6ignor? -0 — $e§bemona! — 40 3)e§b. SRcin ©emabl? 0t b- ©eft’ jogteid) . jn95ett, ict) merbe augenblidlid) mieber ba fein. ©ntlafje beine ®efettfdj after in; t’bu’, mie id) bir jage. [Ottjelfo, Sobobico unb ©cfotge ab. 75 OTHELLO. Des. I will, my lord. Emil. 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, 5 And bade me to dismiss you. Emil. Dismiss me ! Des. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu: We must not now displease him. 10 Emil. I would you had never seen him! Des. So would not I: my love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns, — Pr’ythee, unpin me, — have grace and favour in them. Emil. I’ve laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. 15 Des. All’s one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds! If I do die before thee, pr’ythee, shroud me In one of those same sheets. Emil. Come, come, you talk. Des. My mother had a maid call’d Barbara: 20 She was in love; and he she lov’d prov’d mad, And did forsake her: she had a song of “ willow ;” An old thing ’twas, but it express’d her fortune, And she died singing it: that song to-night 25 Will not go from my mind; I’ve much to do, But to go hang my head all at one side, And sing it like poor Barbara, Pr’ythee, dispatch. Emil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown? Des. No, unpin me here. 30 This Lodovico is a proper man. Emil. A very handsome man. Des. He speaks well. Emil. I know a lady in Venice would have walked bare- foot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip. 35 Des. The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree , Sing all a green willow; [Singing. Her hand on her bosom , her head on her knee , Sing willow, willow , willow: 4 o The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur' d her moans; Sing willow , willow , willow; Her salt tears fell from her , and soften'd the stones;— Lay by these: — 76 Dtfjello. £)e§b. £)a§ merb' id), mein ©entabl. ©nttl. 2Bie gebt T § nun? (Sr jd)ehtt ntilber al§ gubor. $)e§b. ©r fagt, er merbe bier fein ungefdumt; ©r gab mir ben SBefebl, ;ju S3ett ju geben, 5 Unb mir, bid) entlaffett. ©mil. 9Jcid) entlaffen? 2) e3b. ©r mid e§ alfo ; barum, gute$ $inb, ©ieb mir mein 9?ad)tgemanb unb lebe mofjl! 2Bir bitrfen ie|U ibn nid)t erjiirnen. 10 ©mil. |)dttet ibr ibn bod) nie gefeb'tt! 3) e§b. &a§ modi' id) nid)t: mein §er§ bdngt fo an ibm, 3)ab felbft fein Qoxn, f e i n ^ xo t b f e * n ©igenfimt — $ontm, fled' mid) lo§ — mir lieb unb rei^enb biinft. ©mil. ®ie &itd)er Iegt r id) auf, mie il)r’3 befal)lt. 15 $>e§b. '3 ift ade3 ©in3. — 9(c£) ! ma3 mir tbbrid)t finb! — 0terb T id) bar bir, fo bitt r bid), bull e inid) Qn eitt3 bon biefen Xiidfent. ©mil. $ommt; ibr fdjma^t ! 2) e3b. Wtim Gutter £;att r ein s $idbd)en, — barbel §k\) 20 fie — 3)ie mar berliebt unb treulo3 marb il)r @d)ab Unb lief babon. 6ie ^att’ ein Sieb bon 2Beibe, ©in alte3 $)ing, bod) bob*’ e3 fitr ibr fieib; 6ie ftarb, inbern fie'3 fang. $)a§ £ieb b^ut r 9cad) t 25 £ommt mir nid)t au3 bent 6inn; id) bob' $u fd)affen, ^ab id) nid)t and) ben $obf fo bong' unb fittge 2Bie r 3 arnte barbel. $8itt’ bid), mad)’ gefcbmirib 1 ©mil. @od id) eu'r 9?ad)tfleib bolen? 3) e3b, 9Zein, fted ? mid) bier nur lo3. — so ^Der Sobobico ift ein feiner Sftann. ©mil. ©in red)t bitbfdjer SDtonn. 3)e3b. ©r fbridjt gut. ©mil. ;gd) meib eine ^ome in $enebig, bie mare barfitf) ttad) ^alaftina gegangen unt ein en £)rud bon feiner Untcr= 35 libbe. ^£)e§b. (fingt) 3)a3 ■JJcdgblein fab ftngenb am geigenbaitm fritf), 8ingt £Beibe, gritne 2Beibe ! 3)ie £)anb auf bent SBttfen, ba3 $aubt attf bem $nie, 6iugt $Bcibe, 2Beibe, SBeibe! 40 S)a3 ^ad)lein, e3 murntelt unb ftimmet mit ein; 8iitgt 9Beibe, gritne SBeibe! .§eib rollt ibr bie ^bmu' unb ermeicbt ba§ ©eftein. 9eg' bie3 beifcite — Tfi OTHELLO. Sing willow, willow, willow ; [Singing. Pr’ythee, hie thee; he’ll come anon: — Sing all a green willow must be my garland. [ Singing . Let nobody blame him; his scorn 1 approve , — 5 Na} r , that’s not next. — Hark! who is’t that knocks? EmJ. It’s the wind. Des. 1 calVd my love false love; but what said he then? Sing willow, willow, willow: [ Singing . if i court more women, you? II couch with more men . — 10 So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch; Doth that bode weeping? Emil. ’Tis neither here nor there. Des. I’ve heard it said so. 0, these men, these men! Dost thou in conscience think, — tell me, Emilia — 15 That there he women do abuse their husbands In such gross kind? Emil. There he some such, no question. Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? Emil. Why, would not you? 20 Des. No, by this heavenly light! Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light; I might do't as well i’ the dark. Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? Emil. The world’s a huge thing: 25 It is a great price For a small vice. Des. In troth, I think thou wouldst not. Emil. In troth, I think I should; and undo ’t when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint- 30 ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but, for the whole world,— why, who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for ’t’ 35 Des. Deshrew me, if I would do such a wrong For the whole world. Emil. 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. 40 Des. I do not think there is any such woman. Emil. Yes, a dozen ; and as many to the vantage as would store the world they played for. 0tf)c(To. (fttigt) (Singt 2Beibe, 2Beibe, SSeibe ! SBitt’ bid), mud) T fd)ned! er lommt fogleidy — (fingt) $on SSeiben ad’ flecf)t r id) mir mm ben Man 3 — 0 fd^eltet ibn nid)t, fein gorn ift mir red)t, — 5 SRein, ba§ fomrnt fpciter, — ^ord)! mer flobft ba? — (5 mil. ©§ ift ber 3Binb. 3)e£b. (fingt) gd) nannt’ ibn bu galfdjer! ma§ fagt’ er ba^u? @ingt SBeibe, grime SBeibe! 6eb’ id) nad) ben 9Mbeln, nad) ben 25uben fiel)ft bu. 10 @o geb’ nun fort; aute $Rad)t! $Rein 2 luge judt; SBebeutet ba£ mobl Bremen? (5 mil. ©i, uiit nidjtenl 3)e§b. gd) ^orf e§ fo. — 5)ie banner, o bie banner I ©laubft bu, auf bein ©emiffen fprid), Emilia, 15 £)af) mirllid) SBeiber finb, bie ibre banner @o groblid) tciufd)en? ©mil 6old)e giebt% !ein gtneifel! (S)e3b. Xbat’ft bu bergleic^en um bie ganje SBelt? ©mil. 9Zun, tptet itjr’S nid)t? CO $)e§b. Sftein, beint £id)t be§ |>immet§! — ©mil. gd) tt)df e§ aud) nid)t be i be§ §intmel§ £id)t, gd) tbnnf e§ ja im $>unfeln. 3)e§b. Xpt’ft bu bergleid)en um bie gan^e 2Bett? — ©mil. 3)ie 2Belt ift mad)tig meit: C5 £)er Soljn mar’ qroft, Mein ber $8erfto|. 2)e£b. ©emif), bu tbjat’ft e§ nid)t! — ©mil. ©emi|, id) ttjate e3, unb mad)te e§ mieber ungetban, menn id) T § getban butte. 9htr freilid) tbdte id) fo'etma§ so nid)t fiir einen gingerring, nod) fiir eintge ©den 23atift, nod) fiir Mantel, fftoefe unb Sauben, ober folcben arm- fcl’gen ©ram; a ber fiir bie gan^e 2Belt, — ei, mer butte bu nidjt Suft, bem Jeanne §i3rner aufjufeben unb ibn ^um 2Beltfaifer $u mud)en? S)afiir magte id) ba§ gegefeuer! 35 3)e3b. gd) mid be§ £o be3 fein, ti)dt’ id) fold)' Unred)t 5lud) um bie gun^e 2Belt. ©mil. ©i nun, bu§ Unredbt ift bod) nur ein Unred)t in ber 2Belt, unb menn end) biefeelt fiir eure Sdtiibe ^uXeilmiro, fo ift’§ ein Unrest in eurer eig’nen 2Belt. gbr lonnf eS 40 gefdjminb §u 9led)t ntud)en. !De§b. gd) gluube bod), e§ giebt fein fold)e§ 2Beib. ©mil. ©i, $ebn fiir ein§ unb nod) fo diel in Mtuf, £)ie 2Belt, um bie fie fpielten, gleid) $u fiiden. 77 OTHELLO. / But I do think it is their husbands’ faults If wives do fall: say that they slack their dutie And pour our treasures into foreign laps, Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 5 Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us, Or scant our former having in despite; Why, we have galls; and though we have some grace, Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them: they see, and smell, 10 And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have. What is it that they do When they change us for others? Is it sport? I think it is: and doth affection breed it? I think it doth: is ’t frailty that thus errs? 15 It is so too: — and have not we affections, Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? Then let them use us well: else let them know, The ills we do, their ills instruct us so. Des. Good night, good night: heaven me such uses 20 send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! [. Exeunt . ACT V. Scene I. Cyprus. A Street . 3b Enter I ago and Koderigo. Iago. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come: Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home: Quick, quick; fear nothing; I’ll be at thy elbow: 35 It makes us, or it mars us; think on that< And fix most firm thy resolution. Rod. Be near at hand; I may miscarry in ’t. Iago. Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stiind. [Retires to a little distance. 40 Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed; And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons: ’Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword; he dies. [ Goes to his stand. 78 Citfjetta 9lttein mid) bitnlt: e$ ift ber banner ©djufb, $)aft SBeiber fatten. 28enn fie £ffid)tttergeffen Qn frembem @djof$ ttergeuben unfern ©d)aj3 ; 2Bemt fie, nerfeljrt in faun 7 fd)er ©tferfudjt, 5 ?(n§ ^au§ un§ feffeltt, menu fie gar un§ }d)fagen, 2Benn fie in Seicfttfimt unfer ©ut oertf)un: $>amt fd)mittt and) un§ bie ©atte; mir finb fromm, $)od) nid)t non 0^ad)fuc^t fret. ©ie fotteit 7 ^ miffeit, 2Sir fjaben ©inne attd), mir fef) 7 it unb riedjen, 10 Itnb fjabett einen ©aunt fitr fiifj nnb fjerbe, s 28ie unfre banner. Sa§ be^meden fie, 2Senn fie uit§ anb 7 re nor«jief) 7 n? 3ft ^ Suft? 3d) benfe, fa; treibt fie bie £eibenjd)aft? 3d) bntfe, ja; ift 7 3 ©djmadjfjeit, bie fie tf)brt? — 15 ©emifj; unb f)aben mir nid)t Seibenfdjaft, 9Ud)t |>ang $ur Suft unb ©d)mad)f)eit gleid) ben 9J?annern? 2) runt : menu ber SLRamt fid) treu!o§ bon un3 fefjrte, 2Bar 7 3 feme 23o§Ijeit, bie un§ $3bfe§ lebjrte. ^)e§b. ©ut 7 SRadjt! — Unb lafe mid), £err, in frentben 20 ©itnbett 3^cid)t eig ? ne ©itnbe, lafc mid) Seffrung finben! [a§ barf nid)t fein. SSemt ©affio iibrig bleibt, ©o jeigt fein Seben taglicf) eine ©djonfjeit, 10 3)ie mid) t>crC)d^Iid)t; unb ber 9Jiol)r aud) mod)te Oftid) iljm nerraten; ba§ mar’ fejjr bebeuflidj. Sftein, nein, er fterbe! — ©fid, id) t)or ? U)tt fommen. Gaffio tritt auf. 15 01 o b. ©§ ift fein ©ang, er tomnxt. — ©o ftirb', bn ©cb)itrf r ! [*@r lauft auf (Saffio 311 unb bernmnbet i On. ©af. 3)er 2)egenftod toar feinblid) ntir gemeint, ©)od) ift mein Oiocf ftid)feiter at§ bu glaubft; 9 ?UU britf id) beinen. [©iefedjten; (£affio berton ttbet ben 3ft ob rig 0 . £0 01 ob. 2Bet) ? ; id) bin be§ £obe§. Sago ftidft bem 6 a ffio oon f)inten in§ 93ein unb geljt ab. ©af. (Matintt auf intmer! §idfe! SCRbrber! dftbrber! 25 Dtfjello jeigt fid) oben. 0tt). ift ©affio T § ©timme; $ago ^)dlt fein SBort! Oiob. 0 id) $errud)ter! 0tt). £)ord)! — Qa tool)!, fo iff 3. 30 ©af. 0 £mlfe! Sid)t! ein 2Bunbar$t! — 0 tli. ©r iff 3 1 0 ttmcfret $ago, bran unb treu! 3)er bu fo ebel fidjift be§ $reunbe3 ©d)tnad) ! $u le^rft mid): $itpbd)en, bein ©eliebter ftel r Unb beine ©tnnbe nat)t. 3>d) fomme, lintel 35 $)ein 03Iid, bein Oiei§ fod mir im §er^en fterben, 3)ein fiinbig OSett ba§ S3lut ber ©iinbe farbett! — [@r gel)t ab. Sobobieo unb ©ratiano tretert in eiitiger ©ntferuung auf. 40 ©af. ®ein 3Bdcf)ter ba! $ommt niemanb? ^iilfe ! ORorbl ©rat. ©in Ungliid gan$ gennji, ber ©rfjrei mar furd)tbar. ©af. 0§iilfe! Sob. £>ordj ! 79 OTHELLO. Rod. 0 wretched villain! Lod. Two or three groan: — it is a heavy night: These may he counterfeits: let’s think’t unsafe To come in to the cry without more help. 5 Rod. Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death. Lod. Hark ! Gra. Here’s one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons. Re-enter Iago, with a light. 10 15 20 25 SO 35 40 Iago. Who’s there? whose noise is this that cries on murder? I.od. We do not know. Iago. Did not you hear a cry? Cas. Here, here! for heaven’s sake, help me! Iago. What’s the matter? Gra. This is Othello’s ancient, as I take it. Lod. The same indeed; a very valiant fellow. Iago. What are you here that cry so grievously? Cas. Iago? 0, I’m spoil’d, undone by villains! Give me some help. Iago. 0 me, lieutenant! what villains have done this? Cas. I think that one of them is hereabout, And cannot make away. Iago. 0 treacherous villains! [To Lodovico and Grattano. What are you there? come in, and give some help. Rod. 0, help me here! Cas. That’s one of them. Iago. 0 murderous slave! 0 villain! [Stabs Roderigo. Rod. 0 damn’d Iago! 0 inhuman dog! Iago. Kill men i 7 the dark! — Where be these bloody thieves? — 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. Iago. Signior Lodovico ? Lod. He, sir. Iago. I cry you mercy. Here’s Cassio hur by vil- lains. Gra. Cassio ! Iago. How is’t, brother? Cas. My leg is cut in two. Iago. Marry, heaven forbid 80 Dtfjeffo. 9iob. 0 , uiebertrddjt’ger ©ube! — Sob. 3toei=, bretmd |brf id) cid)£en. ©raufe 9ftadjt! 3)a§ fantt ©erftettung fein ; id) f)alf § nid)t fid)er, 3)ent©d)rei §u folgen, ef) r un3 SBeiftanb toirb. 5 9ft ob. ,#onxmt uientanb ? ©o tnufj id) $u £obe bluten. S o b. £>ordj ! ©rat. ©in 9Jtanu bier ot)ne 2Banx§ nxit Sid)t unb $)egen. So 90 fomtnt mit etrtem £icf)te. 10 3 ago. 3Ber ba? 2Ba§ fur ein Sarm? 2Ber rief f)ier 9ttorb? Sob. 3Bir toiffen'3 nid)t. ^ ago. £)abt % nid)t fdjrei’n gefjbrt? ©af. §ier, fyier! unt ©otte^toifleu, 3 ago. 2Ba§ giebf§? 15 ©rat. 3)a3 ift £>ttjetto§ gatjubrid), tuie id) glaube. Sob. ©ans red)t, er ift J § ; ein fetjr be^er^ter 9Q?ann. 3a go. 2Ber feib it)i’ ba, ber fo erbarmlid) ruft? ©af. 3ago ? ©on ©d)urfen tbtlid) t)ier getcUjmt — $d), fdjaff mir §iitfe! — 20 3ago. Urn ©ott! ©agt, Sieutenant, toetd)e ©uben tf)aten r §? ©af. $)er eine, benf id), tiegt t)ier in ber 9?cit)e Unb !ann nid)t fort. 3a go. £) bie argtift’gen ©d)urfen! C 8 u Sobouico unb ©rotiano.) 2Ber feib il)r ba ? $onxntt bod) 25 ^eran unb t)elft! 91 ob. 0, ^elft ntir t)ier! ©af. $>er toar babei. 3 a go. 0 ©d)xxrfM 0 9Dftextd)eIntbrber! [So go erftid)t ben Dtobrigo. 30 9ft ob. ^erbammter 3ogo ! ©luttjunb! 0 ! o! o! 3a go. 3w 2)unfeln xnorben! 2Bo finb bie Mufgen ®iebe? ©Me ftitt finb biefe ©trafeen! 9)?orb! ?Oftorb 1 9Jcorb ! ©kr feib benn tf)r? ©d)(inun T ober ©ute? 35 Sob. 9ftiif)mt un§, toie i|r un£ finbet. 3 ago. ©ignor Sobobico? Sob. 3a, §err! 3a go. ©erjeibung; fykx liegt ©affio, fd)toer bertounbet ©on ©djurfeu. 40 ©rat. ©affio? 3^9 0 . ©ag toie get)t bir% ©ruber? ©af. 3d) bin burd) T § ©ein geftodjen. 3ogo. ©ott berfjuf e§! 80 OTHELLO. Light, gentlemen: — I’ll bind it with my shirt. Enter Bianca. Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is’t that cried? 5 Iago. Who is’t that cried! Bian. 0 my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! 0 Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! Iago. 0 notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be that have thus mangled you? 10 Cas. No. Gra. I’m sorry to find you thus: I’ve been to seek you. Iago. Lend me a garter. So. 0, for a chair, To bear him easily hence! Bian. Alas, he faints! 0 Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! 15 Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash To be a party in this injury. Patience awhile, good Cassio. — Come, come; Lend me a light. — Know we this face or no? Alas, my friend and my dear countryman 20 Roderigo? no: — yes, sure; 0 heaven! Roderigo. Gra. What, of Venice? Iago. Even he, sir: did you know him? Gra. Know him! ay. ) Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon; 25 These bloody accidents must excuse my manners, That so neglected you. Gra. I’m glad to see you. Iago. How do you, Cassio? 0, a chair, a chair! Gra. Roderigo ! 30 Iago. He, he, ’tis he. — [A chair brought in.] 0, that’s well said; — the chair: — Some good man bear him carefully from hence; I’ll fetch the general’s surgeon. — [To Bianca/ For you, mistress, 35 Save you your labour. — He that lies slain here, Cassio, Was my dear friend: what malice was between you? Cas. None in the world; nor do I know the man. Iago. [To BiancaJ What, look you pale? — 0, bear him out o’ the air. — /Lassio and Roderigo arc borne off. 40 Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress? Do you perceive the gastness of her eye? Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon. Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her: 81 DtfjeHo. 83ringt Sid)t, §errn 1 Wlit bent §entb mid id)'§ nerbinben. S3 tone a tritt auf. $ 8 1 an c a. 2Ba§ ift gefdjeb'n? SSer mar eS, ber fo fdjrie? 5 3 ago. 2Ber max's, ‘ber fdjrie? Bianca. 0 liebfter ©affio! 0 mein fitter ©affio! 0 ©affio! ©affio! ©affio ! ^ a go. 0 bu auSbunb'ge Wt J $e ! ©affto, mifjt ifjr, 2Ber jene maren, bie end) fo geldfjntt? 10 ©af. Sftein. ©rat. 5D^icf) fdjmerftt, end) fo fet) r n: idj fud)t r eud) eben. ^a go. Seitft ntir ein ©trumbfbanb ! ©a. — 0 eine ©anfte, 3*|n teife bin^utragen. S3ianca. ©r fadt tit 0tjnntad)t. ©affio! ©affio! ©affio! 15 3ogo. 3b r £>errn f ntir afynefS, bie $ermorf 7 ne fjter ©ei mit nerftrieft in biefer ©renewal. — ©ebutb ein menig, lieber ©affio! ®ontmt! ©in Sid)t fjerl — ®enn r id) ben ba, ober nicf)t ? — %d) ©ott! ift baS mein greunb unb metier SanbSmamt 20 Slobrtgo? — Sdein; nnb bod) ; — o ©ott I Sftobrigo! ©rat. Otobrigo non $8enebig? 3ft go. ® erfelbe ; fennt ifjr i^n? ©rat. 3a, ader binaS. 3a go. ©igitor ©ratiano? 0 §err, id) bin befdjcimt; 25 i)er blufge gad entfd)utb’ge meine 91auf)t)eit, 3)ie end) mifjfamtt. ©rat. ©3 freut mid), end) ju fet) r n. 3 ago. ©affio, mie gefjt'S? SDie ©anfte! §e, bie ©anfte! ©rat. dtobrigo! 30 3ft do. 3ct, ja, er * iff S'. — 0 fd)on, ba fommt bie ©anfte. £ragt xf)n mit ©orgfalt ^eim, it)r guten Sente; 3cb tjof 0ttjedo§ 2Bunbar§t. (8u % tone a.) 3*d ba, Sungfer, 35 ©part enre 9Mf) ? . — ©affio, ber f)ier gelatjmt marb, 3ft fefjr mein greunb; ma§ pallet i^r fur ©treit? ©af. $did)t§ in ber 2SeIt, id) fenit 7 ifjn nid)t einmal. Sftgo. C8tt Bianca.) 2Bie? fef)t xfyx btaff? — 0 tragt i§n auS ber Suft. [(Eaffi o unb Dtobrigo toerben tneggetragen. 40 S3Xeibt, merte §errn ! — 3§r, 3iwgfer, febt fo btafj? demerit if)r, mie nerftbrt if)x 5(uge ftarrt? — 9?un, bebt it)r gar, erfafjreit mir mof)l mef)x : — $3etrad)tet fie, i d) bitt r end), febt fie an; 81 11 OTHELLO. Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak, Though tongues were out of use. Enter Emilia. Emil . ’Las, what’s thematter? what’s the matter, husband? 5 Iago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark By Roderigo, and fellows that are scap’d: He’s almost slain, and Roderigo dead. Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio! Iago. This is the fruit of whoring. Pr’ythee, Emilia, 10 Go know of Cassio where he supp’d to-night. [To BiancaJ What, do you shake at that? Bian . He supp’d at my house ; but I therefore shake not. Iago. 0, did he so? I charge you, go with me. Emil. Fie, he upon thee, strumpet! 15 Bian. I am no strumpet; but of life as honest As you that thus abuse me. Emil. As I! foh! he upon thee! Iago. Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dress’d. [To BiancaJ Come, mistress, you must tell ’s another tale. 20 Emilia, run you to the citadel, And tell my lord and lady what hath happ’d. Will you go on? I pray. [Aside] This is the night That either makes me or fordoes me quite. [Exeunt. Scene II. A Bedchamber in the Castle: Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning. Enter Othello. 30 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 scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. 35 [Takes off his sword. Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out thy light: If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, 40 Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume. When I have pluck’d the rose, S2 Othello. 9?id)t nmljv, if»r §errn? Qfjv fd)lecf)t ©etoiffen fprid)t f 28enn aud) tie 3ungen 9 ar ntdjt reben fbnnten. (Smilia tritt auf. ©mil. 3Ba§ ift gefd)ef)’n? 2ld), 9ftann, ma§ ift gefd)dj r n? 5 Sago, ©ajfio marb t)ter im 3)uitfeln angefallen, Sftobrigo roar T § unb attb're, bie entfio^n; ©r ift Ijalb tot unb Ovoberigo ftarb. ©mil. 9ld) ©ott, bev arme £err! M), guter ©affto! Sago, ^a^ ift ber Unjust Strafe. — £>or’, ©milia, 10 grag T bod) ben ©affto, mo er nad)t§ gefpeift. C8u 93 i arte a.) 2Ba3? Qittert il)r baOor? Bianca, ©r afe bei ntir. $>od) baOor jittr’ idj nid)t. Sago. $a, tl)at ev ba§? $ommt, fag T id), folgt mir nad)! ©mil. $fui, fd)led)te§ 3$ei b! 15 Bianca. Sd) bin fein fd)led)te§ 3Seib; id) bin fo eljrlid) §11$ i^r, bie fo mid) fdjintpft. ©mil. §118 id)? Opfui! • Sago, $ommt, §errn, jel) r n, toie ©affto mirb fcerbunben; S|v, Sungfer, geljt, eucf) xeigt man'$ balb nod) anber$. 20 ©milia, lauf jur ©itabelr unb melbe $>ent §errn unb feitter fjrau, ma§ l)ier gefdjat). — Sd) Bitte, geljt Doran ! (giir fid).) $)ie$ ift bie $J?ad)t 3Die mid) bernidjtet ober gliidlidj ntad)t. [e§bemona, fchlafenb im 93ett. (Sin 2id)t brennt neben ihr. Othello tritt herein. 30 Dtt). $)ie Sadje nrill% bie Sadje milT$, mein §erj! £afjt fie mid) eud) nid)t nennett, !eufd)e Sterne! — 3)ie Sadje nritl’3. — 3)od) nid)t ibr 93Iut bergie^ r id), 9?od) rib ; id) biefe |>aut, fo toeife mie Sdjnee Hub fanft mie eine$ 3)enfmal$ fllabafter. — 35 [®r tegt feinen £>egen ab, $)od) fterben rnufj fie, fonft betriigt fie anb're. 2l)u' au§ ba§ 2id)t, unb bann — £l)u 7 au$ ba§ £id)t; — Sa, tbfd) ? id) bid), bu flammenfjeller Wiener — $ann id) bein borig T £id)t bir miebergeben, 40 Sodf id) r § bereu'n; — bod) bein £i'd)t au$getl)an, $u reijenb 9ftufter b)errlicf)fter -iftatur, 9cie finb’ id) ben $rometbeu§funfen mieber, ®ein £id)t ju jitnben. $fliidt’ id) beine 9tofe, 8*2 ‘ 11 * OTHELLO. I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs wither: I’ll smell it on thy tree. [Kissing her . Ah, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword! One more, one more, 5 Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after. One more, and that’s the last: So sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel tears: this sorrow’s heavenly; It strikes where it doth love. — 10 She wakes. Des. Who’s there? Othello? Oth . Ay, Desdemona. Des . Will you come to bed, my lord? Oth. Have you pray’d to-night, Desdemona? 15 Des . Ay, my lord. Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime Unreconcil’d as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight. Des. Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that? 20 Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by: I would not kill thy unprepared spirit; No, — heaven forfend! — I would not kill thy soul. Des. Talk you of killing? Oth. Ay, I do. 25 Des. Then heaven Have mercy on mel Oth. Amen, with all my heart! Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. Oth. Hum! 30 Des. And yet I fear you; for you’re 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. 35 Des. ' They’re loves I bear to you. Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest. Des. That death’s unnatural that kills for loving. Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame; 40 These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me. Oth. Peace, and be still! Des. I will so. What’s the matter? 83 Ctfietto. 9?ie fantt id) ifjr ben SebenSmudp erneu’n, ©iernujs, ntufj melfen; bufte mix bom ©tamnt! [mifct fie. 0 tnitr^ger §aud), bet* fefbft ®ered)tiafeit 35 r ©d) inert gu bredjen pringt! — wod) einen! einen! 5 ©ei maun bu tot Sift fo, bann tot* id) bid) Unb Hebe bid) nad)t)er — nod) einen nnb ben (extent ©o fuff tt> at nie fo tottid). 3d) muf; meinen. 3)od5 finb ? § graufante £b,ranen; biefer ©djmetfc 3ft mie be§ $immel3, ftrafenb, mo er Xiebt. — 10 ©ie madjt. — 3)e§b. 2Ber ba? 0tf)eUo? Dtf). 3a, 3>e§bemona. 3)e3b. SBoIft itjr $u 95ett ae5*n, mein ($temal)l? Dtt). §aft bn §u &ad)t gebetet, 3)e§bemona? 15 3)e3b. 3 a , mein ©emafd ! 0tf). $annft bu bid) einer ©iinbe nod) erinnent, 9cid)t au§gefof)nt bent §immel unb bet ©uabe, ©o ftebe je|t al§batb. S)e3b. 2Xd), mein ©etttaXjt! 28a§ midft bu bamit fagen? 20 O t d). 28oX)t, tip’ e§ nub fei tur§; id) get)* beifeite ; 9cid)t mbd)t* id) beinen dkift in ©ihtben toten, 9?ein, (SJott 0ert)ut*3 ! nid)t beine ©ee(e toten. 3)e§b. ©brid)ft bu Oonx Xoteu? 0 tl). 3a! 25 3)e§b. 3)amt, gitfger $immel, (Srbarrn* bid) mein! 0tf). 3(men bon’ganjem §er§en! S)e3b. SBemt bu fo fbridjft, bann ttrirft bu mid) nidbt toten! 0tt). §m! — 30 3)e§b. Unb bennod) fitrdjt* id) bid^ f benn bu bift fdfredtid), SSenn fo bein ?(uge rodt. 3® arum id) fiird)ten fodte, mei§ id) nidjt, 3)aid)Oon ©d)ulbnid)t§ meift; bod) fitbl* tdj, bafo id) furcate. 0t$. Sent* beiner ©iinbe ! 35 Se§b. Sa§ ift $u bit bie §etften£liebe. 0tl)- Unb bafixr ftirbft bu ! Se§b. ©raufamer Sob, ber nur um Siebe tbtet! — M) f marttm nagft bu fo bie Unterltbbe? Sein ganger )8au erbebt in blut 7 ger 2But. 40 Sa§ finb SBorjeidjen ; bod) id) id) l^offe, ©ie beuten nidjt auf mid). £ttj. ©djm'eig* unb fei ftid! — Se3b. 3d) fd)meige; ma§ begetjrft bu? — 83 OTHELLO. 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 Oih. That handkerchief which I so lov’d and gave thee Thou gavest to Cassio. Dcs. 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 death-bed. Dcs. Ay, 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 conception That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. Des. Then Lord have mercy on me! Oth. I say, amen. Dcs. 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. 0 perjur’d woman! thou dost stone my heart, And mak’st me call what I intend to do A murder, which I thought a sacrifice: 1 saw the handkerchief. Dcs. He found it, then; I never gave it him: send for him hither; Let him confess a truth. Oth. He hath confess’d. Dcs. What, my lord? Oth. That he hath used thee. Dcs. How? unlawfully? Oth. Ay. Des. He will not say so. Oth. No, his mouth is stopp’d; Honest Iago hath ta’en order for’t. Dcs. 0! my fear interprets: what, is he dead? Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had stomach for them all. Dcs. Alas! he is betray’d and I undone! Oth. Out, strumpet! weep’st thou for him to my face? Des. 0, banish me, my lord, but kill me not! Oih. Down, strumpet! Dcs. Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night! Oth. Nay, if you strive, — 84 OttjeHo. Otb. 2)a3 Xud), ba3 id) fo wert ^iett unb bit fdjenlte, 3)u gabft e3 (Saffio. $)e§b. -iftein, bei 6eel 7 unb Seben! tttuf 7 ibn berbet unb frag 7 ibn. 5 Dtb- 23ebute, $inb, bebiiie bid) nor ^eineib, 5£)u lieqft auf beinem (Sterbebette. $)e3b. £$a, bod) nid^t je£t ^u fterben. Otb. So, alSbatb; 2)arum befenn 7 aufrid)tig betne 6iinbe; 10 3>enn jeben $unft mit einem (Sib nerleuguen, 9^icf)t mctt^t e§ ab, nod) beugt 7 £ ber Ueber^eugung £aft, $)ie mid) ftu SBoben briicft. 2)u bift am Sterben! 3)e§b. 2)ann, ©ott, erbarm 7 bid) mein! Otb* 3d) faae 2(men! 15 $)e§b. 2tudj bu erbarm T bid) mein! ^ie bob 7 id) bid) 3emal§ beleibigt, (Saffio nie geliebt, mit ber Siebe, bie ber pummel felbft ©eftattet; niemal§ gab id) i|m ein $fanb. Otb. S3et ©ott, id) fab mein Xud) in feinen |mnben; 20 9fteineibig SBeib! £m! bu nerfteinft mein £>er& Unb mad)ft jum 9ftorb, ma§ id) beginnen mitt, 28a§ idj al§ Obfer meinte. 3d) f a b ba§ Xud). $)e3b. 6o bot er 7 § benn gefunben; 25 $ie bob’ id) 7 § ibm gegeben; ruf 7 ibn ber, $>af$ er befennt, wie’§ ift. Otb- (Sr bot betannt. 2)e3b. 2Ba§, teurer $err? Otb. $)af 3 er bein greunb gewefcn — 30 3)e§b. SBie? unerlaubt? Otb. So! 2) e§b. $)a§ !ann er nid)t fagen. Otb. O uein, fein Stthtnb ift ftumm; $er treue Sogo bot bafiir geforgt. 35 $)e§b. O ! meine gurdjt erfldrt mir 7 3. 3Bie ? (Sr tot? Otb. Ob jebe§ £>aar ein £eben mar, mein @rimm $erfd)(ang fie atte. $)e§b. O ®ott! (Sr ift oerraten, idj nerloren! Otb. §o, 50lette! SBeinft um ibn nor meinen ?tugen? 40 2) e § b. $Berfto|e ntid) ! O, tote midi nur nid)t. Otb- 9fteber mit bir, 9J?e£e! 3) e§b. 50i5te micb morgen, lafj midj b eu * nod) leben Otb- $ein 0trduben! ’ 84 OTHELLO. Des. But half an hour! Oth. Being done, there is no pause. Des. But while I say one prayer! Oth. It is too late. [He stifles her. 5 Emil, [within] My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord ! Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel am yet merciful; I would not have thee linger in thy pain: — .[ Stabs her. So, so. Emil. [ within ] What, ho! my lord, my lord! Oth. Who’s there? Emil [within] 0, good my lord, I would speak a word with you ! 15 Oth. Yes: ’tis Emilia. By and by. — She’s dead. — ’Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death; The noise was high. — Ha! no more moving? Still as the graven — Shall she come in? were’t good? — I think she stirs again: — no. — What’s best to do? 20 If she come in, she’ll sure speak to my wife: My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife. 0, insupportable! 0 heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe 25 Should yawn at alteration. Emil, [within] I do beseech you That I may speak with you, 0, good my lord! Oth. I had forgot thee: 0, come in, Emilia: — Soft, — by and by: — let me the curtains dr^w. — 80 Where art thou? [Unlocks the door. Enter Emilia. What’s the matter with thee now? Emil. 0, my good lord, yonder’s foul murder done! Oth . What, now ? 35 Emil. 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. Emil. Cassio, my lord. 40 Hath kill’d a young Venetian Call’d Boderigo. Oth. Boderigo kill’d! And Cassio kill’d! 85 . Otfjetto. 3)e§b. ^ur ein ©tiinbcfjen. Dtf). 3ft’§ getfjan, SBraudjt'S feineg go gern§. £)e§b. 9ta Bi§ idj nod) geBetet! 0tf). r $ ift fadt. [@r erfiicft fie.. 5 ©mil. (brauBen) 3)?ein gndb’ger §err I £>e! §oHa! ©nab'ger $err! 0tf). 28a3 fiir ein Sdrm? Siidjttot? 9?od) nidjt gang tot? — Qd) Bin $n>ar graufam, aBer bod) Barudjer^ig ; 0ctd^t mod)t’ ic£> bir Dedangern beine dual. — 10 [Srftidjt fie mit bem £>otcBe,. @ 0 , jo. ©util. (brauBen) §e, ^oda! ©ndb’ger ^err! £)t§. SSerba? ©mil. (brauBen) 0 Bejter §err ! nur auf ein SBort mit end). 15 0tt). Qal ’§ ijt ©milia. — ©teidj! — 3e|t ift fie tot. — ©emiB, fie fommt nnb melbet ©affio r § £ob; SDer Sarm mar grof}. — £m! 3ftegft bn bid) nidjt meljr? ©tilt, urie ba§ ©raB. — 2)arf fie herein? — SEB.dr'S gut? — SOUr baudjt, fie riigrt fid). — $ein. — 2$a§ ift ba§ SBefte? 20 fomnxt fie, ttrirb fie nad) meinent SBeiBe fragen — 9DMn SBeiB ! SDcein SBeiB ! — SBetdj 2Bei6 ? $d) tjaB* fein SBeiB. 0, unertrcigtid) I 0, furcfjtBare ©tunbe ! 9hm, badjf id), miifjf ein groj) SSerfinftern fein Sin ©omt r unb SJionb unb bie erfdjredte ©rbe 25 ©id) aufttjun t>or ©ntfetxen. ©mit (brauBen) Qd) Bitf end) bringenb, gonnt ntir nur ein DBefter §err! ' [SBortt 0tfj. 0! id) Bergaf) bid). — fomm herein, ©milia! ©adjf, — gteid) ! ©ogteid)! — 3d) §ie§ r ben SSor^ang $u. 30 2Bo fommft bu t>ev? ©r fdjIieBt bie Satire auf, Emilia tritt herein. 2Ba§ fjaft bu mir fagen? ©mil. 0, lieBer §err! ©in fiinb’ger SJtorb gefd)a§. 0tt). SBie, jefct? ©mil. ° 3dd eBen, £>err! 0ttj. £)a§ tjat toagrljaftig nur ber 9D?onb Berfdjulbet; ©r tommt ber ©rbe nafjer, al% er Bffegt, Unb mad)t bie Sttenjdjen rafenb. ©mil. ©affio, £>err, 40 £3radjt r einen jungen SSenetianer urn, ©enannt Siobrigo. Dtfj. s 28a§ ! Dlobrigo tot? Hub ©affio tot? 85 OTHELLO. Emil, No, Cassio is not kill’d. Oth. Not Cassio kill’d! then murder’s out of tune, And sweet revenge grows harsh. Des. 0, falsely, falsely murder’d! 5 Emil . Alas, what cry is that? Oth . That! what? Emil. Out, and alas! that was my lady’s voice. Help! help, ho! help! 0 lady, speak again! Sweet Desdemona! 0 sweet mistress, speak! 10 Des. A guiltless death I die. Emil. 0, who hath done This deed? Des. Nobody, — I myself. Farewell: Commend me to my kind lord: 0, farewell! [Dies. 15 Oth. Why, how should she be murder’d? Emil. Alas, who knows? Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I. Emil. She said so: I must needs report the truth. Oth. She’s, like a liar, gone to burning hell: 20 ’Twas I that kill’d her. Emil. 0, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil! Oth. She turn’d to folly, and she was a whore. Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. 25 Oth. She was false as water. Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false: 0, she was heavenly true! Oth. Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else. 0, I were damn’d beneath all depth in hell, SO But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. Emil. My husband ! Oth. Thy husband. Emil. That she was false to wedlock? S5 Oth. Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I’d not have sold her for it. Emil. My husband ! 40 Oth. Ay, ’twas he that told me first; An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds. Emil. My husband! S8 OtfjdTo. ©mil. 9iein, ©affio i ft nicf)t tot. 0tb- ©affio nid)t tot? $>ann flingt ber -Hftorb fcerftimmt Unb rant) bie fiifte *Rad)e. $)e§b. 0 ungeredjter s Jttorb! — 5 ©mil. ©ott! 2Beld) 7 ein ©dfrei mar ba§ ? 0tf). £>a§? 2Ba§? ©mil. 0 ^eil’ger ©ott! $>ie ©timme meiner $rau! £>elft, ^elft, o ' f»elft ! 0 Xeure, fpredjt nod) einmal! 0 &e§bemona! fiifre |>errin, fbredjt! — 10 $)e§b. 3d) ftcrbe fdjulbloS. ©mil. 0! 2Ber bat bie £bat boll- brad)t ? 25e§b. 9Uemanb — id) felbft, — leb 7 mobl! ©mpfieblmid) meinem giifgen §errn, leb 7 mobl! [bllenabgrunb, 30 28enn icb nidjt borfd)ritt auf geredjtem ©>ruitb 3u biefent ^lufterften; — bein s Iftann meifs alle§. ©mil. 9ttein 9ftann? 0tb- 2)ein 9flann. ©mil. SDaf$ fie bie ©be brad)? — 35 0tb- 3a bod) f mit ©affio. 2Bar 7 fie treu gemefen Unb fdjuf mir eine §meite 28elt ber pummel 2lu§ einem fefjlioS reinen ©brt)folitb, 3d) gab fie nicbt bafiir. ©mil. s IRein Sftann! — 40 0tb. 3a mobf, er mar’s, ber mid) juerft gemarnt; ©r ift ein ©bmttnann unb bafd ben ©djlarnm ©d)anbbarer ©reueltbat. ©mil. 3ftein SUcann? 86 OTHELLO. Oth. What needs this iterance, woman? I say thy hus- band. Emil. 0 mistress, villany hath made mocks with love! My husband say that she was false! 5 Oth. He, woman; I say thy husband: dost understand the word? My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago. Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul Eot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart: 10 She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. Oth. Ha! Emil. Do thy worst: This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven Than thou wast worthy her. 15 Oth. Peace, you were best. Emil . Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As. I have to be hurt. 0 gull! 0 dolt! As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed — I care not for thy sword; I’ll make thee known, 20 Though I lost twenty lives. — Help! help, ho! help! The Moor hath kill’d my mistress! Murder! murder! Eizter Montano, Gkatiano, and Iago. Mon. What is the matter? How now, general! 25 Emil. 0, are you come, Iago? you ’ve done well, That men must lay their murders on your neck. Gra. What is the matter? Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou be’st a man : He says thou told’st him that his wife was false: 30 I know thou didst not, thou art not such a villain: Speak, for my heart is full. Iago. I told him what I thought; and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true. Emil. But did you ever tell him she was false? 35 Iago. I did. Emil. 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? Iago. With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue. 40 Emil, I will not charm my tongue; I’m bound to speak: My mistress here lies murder’d in her bed, All. O heavens forfend! Emil. And your reports have set the murder on. 87 Ctfjeffo. £>tb- 58op bie 58ieberbotung, SSetb? 3d) fage bit, beirt 9ttann. (Emil. 0 teure 3rau, 83o3t)eit trieb ©pott m it fiiebe! 5)£ein 5ttann fagt, bafj fie falfd) ift? 5 0tb- 28eib! er fagt% ®ettt 5ttamt, bein 9Kann, derftebft bu? 9Q?ein 3reunb, bein 9ftamt, ber macfre, macfre $ago. ©util ©agt et r §, mag ibm bie gift’ge ©eete tagtid) $erfauten um ? nen ©tan! ©r Xiigt at§ ©d)etm; 10 ©ie Xiebte nut p febr iX)r ftagtid) Q3unbni§. 0tb- §a! ©mil £f)U r bein 5trgfte§; ©o mert ift biefe beirie XX)at be§ §immel§, 5tt§ ifjrer bn. 15 £>tt). 5lm beften mob I, bn fdjmieg’ft. ©mil 3>u baft uidjt both bie ®raft, mir meb p tbun, 5tt§ id) T § p tragen. SDummfobf, blober Xljor! §irnto§, mie $ot, bie £b Q t, bie bu getban — 28a§ fitmmert mid) bein ©djmert? Qd) ntadl e§ funb 20 ilnb gdtf e§ pan§ig fieben. §elft, belft, l)elft ! ©)er afeobr bat meine fj-rau ermiirgt : s Iftorb ! 3ft orb ! Montano, ©ratiano itrtb Sago treten auf. 3ft out. 3Ba§ gebt bie? dot? 5$a§ giebt e§, ©enerat? 25 ©mil. £> tommft bu, Qago? — ©i, bu ntad)ft e§ fdjon, S)af$ anb r re ifjre 3ftorbtbat auf bid) fd)ieben. ©tat. 3Sa§ gebt bier dot? ©mil. ©traf biefen 33o§mid)t Sitgen, menu bu 3ftann bift. @r foridjt : $>u fagteft ibm, fein Seib fei falfd) ; 30 Qcb meift, ba§ tbatft bu nicgt, bu bift fein ©djelm: — ©prid), benn mein §ei *5 ift dod. 3 ci go. 3cb fagf ibm, ma§ id) bad)te ; fagt’ and) nid)t§, 3tt§ ma§ et feXbft gtaubmiirbig fanb unb toabt. ©mil. ©o baft bu je gefagt, fie fei nidjt tteu? 35 3 ago. 3d) tbat'3. ©mil. $)a£ mat r ne Siige; fdjnbbe, bbd r fd)e £iige: 33ei ©ott, r ne fiiige, tec^t detbammte Siige: ©ie falfd) mit ©affio? ©agteft bu, mit ©affio? 3 ago. 3ftit ©affio, *3Beib ; ftiH! 33anb’ge beine gunge! 40 ©mil 3)ie gunge bcinb’gen? 3?eben mid id) faut; — 3n ibtem 93ett liegt meine gtau etmotbet. tie. 0, ©ott derbiif e§! ©mil Unb bein SSet’betmn ftiftete ben 3ftorb. 87 OTHELLO. Oth. Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed. Gra. ’Tis a strange truth. Mon. 0 monstrous act! Emil. Villany, villany, villany! 5 I think upon’t, — I think,— I smell’t : — 0 villany ! — I thought so then ; — I’ll kill myself for grief : — 0 villany, villany! lago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home. Emil . Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak: 10 ’Tis proper I obey him, but not now. Perchance, lago, I will ne’er go home. Oth. 01010! [He falls on the bed '. Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar; For thou hast kill’d the sweetest innocent 15 That e’er did lift up eye. Oth. 0, she was foul!— [Rising. 1 scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp’d: I know this act shows horrible and grim. 20 Gra. Poor Desdemona! I'm glad thy father’s dead: Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn, Yea, curse his better angel from his side, 25 And fall to reprobation. Oth. ’Tis pitiful; but yet lago knows That she with Cassio hath the act of shame A thousand times committed; Cassio confess’d it: And she did gratify his amorous works 30 With that 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. Emil . 0 heaven! 0 heavenly powers! 35 lago. Come, hold your peace. Emil. ’Twill out, ’twill out: I peace 1 No, I will speak as liberal as the north: Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I’ll speak. 40 lago. Be wise, and get you home. Emil. I will not. [Iago offers to stab Emilia. Gra. Fie 1 Your sword upon a woman? 88 Ctfjctto. £tf). 9iein, ftarrt nirf)t fo, if)r £ernt, if t mirllid) mabr.. ©rat. Unfel'ge 28abrbeit ! 2ft ont. Ungebeure £bat! — ©mil 0 23iiberei, Derrud)te SBiiberei! — 5 3d) benfe b’ran, — id) ben!' — id) merf§ — o 33iiberei t Qd) bad)f e§ gleid) — tier ©ram mi3d)f id) mid) toten! 0 33iiberei ! — Sago. 3Ba§? bift bu toll? ©eb r gleid) nad) §au§, befefjf id)., ©mil. 3^r eblert §errn! $ergi5nnt mir, baf) id) rebe. 10 3bm &u gebord)en ^iemt mir, bod) nid)t jefct. $iedeid)t gef) r id) nie mebr nad) |>aufe, Sago. 0tb- (blicft auf 2)e§bemona.) 0, o, o, o! ©mil. 3a f toirf bid) f)in unb brittle, 3BeiI bu gentorbet §aft bie ^olb ? fte Unfd)ulb, 15 5)ie je ben 23 lid erbob. 0tb- 0, fie mar fdjled)t — 3d) fab end) je£t erft, 0bm: fa, biefe £anb |>at mirflid) eure ^ctd)te jefct ermorbet. 3d) meifc, bie S0^at fiebt greulid) au§ unb fcbmar^. 20 ©rat. $)u arme3 ®inb ! — ©ut, baf$ bein 23ater ftarb; $>ein 23itnbni§ marb ibnt toblid); ©ram altein 3er(d)nitt ben alien Saben; lebf er jetrt, $>er 2lnblid miirb’ tfjn in SBenmeiflung ftur^en, $)aj 3 er ben guten ©ngel tmn fid) fhid)te, 25 immel, 2ftenjdjen/ Xeufel, alle, atte, 0d)tnad) rufen iiber mid), id) rebe bod)! — 40 Sago. 0ei Hug unb geb ? nadi £>au§. ©mil. 3% laill nid)t. [3 a a 0 maa§ £udj, turn bent bu fagft, $anb id) burd) Qufall unb gab r § metnent Manne; S)enn oft mtt feierlid)em Srnft unb ^acftbrucf (Mebr, aly fitr folcl^e ®leinigfeit fid) giemte) 5 §ieft er'§ mid) fte^ten. 3ago. £)u Uerbantmte Mefte! Snt it. @te gab e§ Saffio? — 9tatt, ad) nein! 3d) faitb’§ Unb gab e§ metitem Mann. 3ago. $u§bunb! bu litgft ! 10 ©mil. $3ei ©ott, id) log nidjt, nein, ibr eblen .gerrn 23lutbitrffger ^arr! 2Ba§ follf and) biefer %xo\>) Mtt folder guten gran? Ott). ©iebf§ feinen $eil im §tmntel nur gum Conner ? — ?lu§erlef r uer ©djurfe ! LS ci g o erfticljt feiite grcm itttb lauft fort ©rat. ©ie finft; mabrbaftig, er erftad) fein $Beib ! ©mil. 3 a , k o legt mid) ttebett meine §errin! .©rat. Sr lief baooit, bod) feine gran ift bin. 20 'Mont. ’§ ift etn ©rfbofemidit. — 23emabrt bie§ ©djrnert, 3)a§ id) je^t bier bent Mobren meggenommen. SBefe^t bie duff re Shut:, laftt ibu nidjt burd) ; ©rftedjt tbit ef T — 3d) mid bent 23uben nad), 3)emt ber ift ein uerbammter |mnb. 25 [Montano unb ©ratiauo aO. Dtb. 3d) bin and) nidjt nt ebr tabfer: 9cein, jeber minfge 5lttab T entfiibrt mein ©djmert. $Ba§ foil aud) ©ijre Stugenb uberleben? — 3al)r r alley bin! GO ©mil. 2Ba§ beutete beiit &ieb? £mrft bu nttd) nod)? 3d) mill bem ©djmane gleid) 3tt SSobllaut fterben. SBeibe, SBeibe, 2Beibe! — Mobr, fie mar feufd); fie liebte bid),, Karbari @o merbe §eil mir, al§ id) 2Babrbeit $euge; 35 Unb, rebenb mie id) benle, fterb’ id) — fterb r id). [@te ftirfit £)tl). 3d) bob r nod) einen S)egen bier im gtntmer, ©§ ift ein fbanifd) ©djmert, in ©i§ geljartet. $ba, bier iff§! — Dbehn, id) mu| t)inau§. ©rat. (brauBert) 2Benn bu’§ nerfud)ft, mirft bu e§ tetter bitften, ib ® u bift mebrloS unb mufti bid) untermerfen. O tb- j5o tomm benn bier herein unb fprid) mit mir, ©onft mit ber nacften 3auft fair id) bid) an. ©rat. (im §ereiutreten) 2Ba§ mitlft bu mir? 89 12 OTHELLO. Oth. Behold, I have a weapon; A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier-s thigh: I’ve seen the day That with this little arm and this good sword, 5 Fve made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop: but, 0 vain boast! Who can control his fate? ’tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me w'eapon’d; Here is my journey’s end, here is my butt, 10 And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismay’d? ’tis a lost fear; Man but a rush against Othello’s breast, And he retires: — where should Othello go? — Now, how dost thou look now? 0 ill-starr’d wench! 15 Bale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl! Even like thy chastity. — 0 cursed, cursed slave! — Whip me, ye devils, 20 From the possession of this heavenly sight! Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! 0 Desdemona! Desdemona! dead! Oh! Oh! Oh! 25 Enter Lodovico, Montano, Cassio carried in a chair , and Officers with Iago, prisoner. Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? Oth. That’s he that was Othello; here I am. Lod. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. 30 Oth. I look down towards his feet ; but that’s a fable. If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee. [ Wounds Iago. Lod. Wrench his sword from him. [Othello is disarmed. Iago. I bleed, sir; but not kill’d. 35 Oth. I am not sorry neither: I’d have thee live; For, in my sense, ’tis happiness to die. Lod. 0 thou Othello, that wert once so good, Fall’n in the practice of a damned slave, What shall be said to thee? 40 Oth . Why, any thing: An honourable murderer, if you will; For naught I did in hate, but all in honour. Lod. This wretch hath part confess’d his villany. Did you and he consent in Cassio’s death? 90 Otljetto. £)tfe. ©iefe feer, id) feab 7 etrt ©cfemert! ©in beffreg feat nod) nie gefdfmitdt bie giifte ©ineg ©otbaten. Sofet mar einft ber Sag, So mir ber Heine Sent, bieg gute ©cfemert 5 Sen Stggang fcfjafffext burefe mefer §inbernig, Stg ^mansigmat bent gmattg. eitleg $*cifelen! Ser tenft fein ©djidfat? Sag ift jefet Oorbei. — ©eib nid)t erfd)redt, ob ifer bemefert utid) fet)t ; §ier ift mein Sfteifeftiet, mein Stferfetafe, 10 Sie fernfte ©eentarf fitr ntein rufeenb ©d)iff. Srittft bit priid in gurdjt? Su bangft umfonft; QitcT nur ein ©cfeilfrofer aitf Dtfee'ttog SBruft, ©r meidjt ifent. Sofein fottf Dtfeelto gefe’tt? v Sfe, mte fiefeft bu nun aitg, o tub beg 3 a miners, 15 $81eicf) mie bein Sucfe! Seittt mir ant Sferon erfefeeinen, Sirb bieg bein 23itb ntid) fort Oorn fmnutet fefeteubern, So gurien ntid) ergreifen. $att, ntein SOftibcfeen? Sie beine ^eufcfefeeit! £ bit nerftucfeter ©HaoM ^eitfefet ntid), ifer Seufet, 20 Seg non bem Stbticf biefer i)intntelgfd)onfeeit! ' ©tiirmt mid) in Sirbetn! Oioftet ntid) in ©dfeoefel! Safd)t tnid) in tie fen ©cfetimben ffitff’ger ©tut! £ Segbentoita, Segbentoita, tot? Sot? £! ol o! 25 SoDofcico, ©affio, ber gefiifjrt luirb, Montano, ^ 5 a g o < 35 e= femgenee intb Offt&iere. Sob. So ift ber rafd)e, feoefeft unfeFge 9Dxanu? £)tfe. §ier ftefet, ber einft Othello mar; feier bin id). Sob. So ift bie Matter? giifert ben SBuben nor! 30 Dife. get) fefe r ifent auf ben gufe; bod) bag ift gabel — 23ift bit ein Seufet, tann id) bid) nid)t tbten. [Dtfjetlo bei'Umnbet ben Sago Sob. Sftefemt ifent fein ©cfemert! gago. get) btute, boefe id) tebe. 35 Dtfe. ©onft tfecif eg mir aud) teib. Su foUft nod) teben ; Senn mie id) fitter, ift Sob ©tiidfetigteit. Sob. £ bit, Othello ! fonft fo grofe itnb gut, Umgarnt non ©cfetingen eineg SBofemicfetg! Sa§ foil ntan non btr fagen? 40 Dtfe. Sag man milt: Safe idj ein eferenOotter Berber fei ; Senn niefetg tfeat id) aug'^afe, fitr ©fere atteg. Sob. .gatb feat ber ©Han’ fein SBubenftiicf befanitt. fiabt ifer mit ifettt in ©affio r g Sob gemi'ttigt? 90 12 * OTHELLO Oth. Ay. Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil 5 Why he hath thus ensnar’d my soul and body? /ago. Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: From this time forth I never will speak word. Lod. What, not to pray? Gra. Torments will ope your lips. 10 Oth. Well, thou dost best. Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall’n, Which, as I think, you know not. Here’s a letter Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo; And here another: the one of them imports 15 The death of Cassio to be undertook By Roderigo. Oth. 0 villain ! Cas. Most heathenish and most gross! Lod. Now here’s another discontented paper, 20 Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain; But that, belike, lago in the interim Came in and satisfied him. Oth. 0 the pernicious caitiff! — 25 How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief That was my wife’s? Cas. I found it in my chamber: And he himself confess’d but even now That there he dropp’d it for a special purpose 30 Which wrought to his desire. Oth. ' 0 fool! fool! fool! Cas. There is besides in Roderigo’s letter, How he upbraids lago, that he made him Brave me upon the watch ; whereon it came 35 That I was cast: and even but now he spake, (After long seeming dead), lago hurt him, lago set him on. Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with us: Your power and your command is taken off, 40 And Cassio rules in Cyprus. 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 91 OTHELLO. To the Venetian state. Come, bring away. Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you go. I’ve done the state some service, and they know’t. No more of that. — I pray you, in your letters, 5 When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak Of one that lov’d not wisely, but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, 10 Perplex’d in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away Eicher than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 15 Their med’cinable gum. Set you down this, And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban’d Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, 20 And smote him — thus. [ Stabs himself with a dagger. Lod. 0 bloody period! Gra. All that’s spoke is marr’d. Oth . I kiss’d thee ere I kill’d thee: no way but this, [Falling upon Desdemona. 25 Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Dies. Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon ; For he was great of heart. Lod. [To IagoJ 0 Spartan dog, More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! 30 Look on the tragic loading of this bed; This is thy work: the object poisons sight; Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house, And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, For they succeed on you. — 35 r To Cassio.] To you, lord governor, Eemains the censure of this hellish villain; The time, the place, the torture, — 0, enforce it! Myself will straight aboard, and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate. [Exeunt. 02 Ctfjcllo. £)tl). %a. (£af. Xeurer $nx f ict) gab end) niemal§ ®runb. Dti 3d) glaub' e§ mtb id) biit^ tint bein ^er^eib'n. 28odt' ibr Oon biefem Teufel mobl erfragen, 5 Saturn er 6eeP unb Seib mir fo nerftrteft? 3a go. gragtmid) um nid)t§ mebr; ma3 tf)r roi^t, ba§ unfit ; •$8on bicfer 0tunb* an rebe id) letn 28ort. Sob. 28a§? 9^icf)t pm 23eten? ®rat. goiter mirb bidf'S lebren. 10 £)tfi. ®ut, bu tbuft fo am beften. Sob. 3br font erfabren, £>err, \va% ftcb begab; 9?od) glaub r id), unfit U)r*§ nid)t: §ier ift ein $8rief, £)er fid) in 9Roberigo§ £afd)e fanb, Unb bier ein peiter. 3ener bort entbalt, 15 28ie ^Hoberigo aufgeforbert marb 3u (£affio§ 2:ob. £) t b- 9Ud)t§miirbiger ! (£af. -&ocbft beibnifd), b^cf)ft oerrud)t! Sob. (£in anb'rer $rief, tierftimmt unb boiler Q^eifet 20 ©efunben and) bei ibm; unb biefen, fd)eint% 28olft r D^oberigo an ben 0d)urfen fenben; $E)od) tarn inbe§ mobl 3 a 9° felbft p ibm, 3bn &u berub'gen. D t b. 9Jieud)lerifd)er §unb! — 25 2Bie !amft bu, (£affio, benn p jenem Xud) $on meiner grau? — (£af. 3d) fanb’3 aitf meirtent garner; Unb er geftanb in biefeut SXugenblicf £>afi er’£ bort fallen liefi ou§ eigner 2lbfid)t, 30 Qu fcblecbtem Qmed. Dtb- £> £bor! 0 bibber ST^or ! (£af. Zann ferner ftebt in s Jtoberigo§ S3rief *3)er $ormurf, toie ibn 3ogo aufgebefrt, 90Ur auf ber 28ad)t p trofien, n>a§ bemirfte, 35 $afi id) entfefit marb, unb nod) fagf er ebett (@nt)ad)t bom 0d)eintob), bafi ilp 3 a 9° ieip ?D?ict) anpfallett, unb ibn bann erftacb- , Sob. 3br miifit iefit mit un§ bie(e§ §au § berlaffen, ©eroatt unb $5ollmad)t finb end) abgenommen; 40 (£affio befieblt in (Spern. liefer '^ube — ©iebf§ irgenb eine red)t gefd)arfte barter, Zk lang’ ibn t)int)Ult unb erfinb r rifdt) qualt, Zk fei fiir ibn. 3b r bleibt in ftrenger fpaft, 93i3 itber eure Zfyat bericfitet marb 91 Otsego. &em ©taat $8enebig§. ©efjt, imb fii^rt iljnmeg! £)tfr ©emad) ! — 9?ur nod) ?>mei SBorte, tty ip gep. 3d) pat ^enebig mand)en ®ien ft, man meif$ e§: 9Hd)t§ mep baton — Qn enren SBriefen, bitt 7 id), 5 2£enn pr ton biefern Unveil $unbe gebt, 6ped)t ton mir, mie ip bin — terneinert nid)t§, 9?od) fe^t in SBopeit ^u. 3)ann miifjt pr metben $on eiriem, ber nid)t Hug, bod) §u fep tiebte; •Diipt teid)t argmopte, bod), einmat erregt, 10 Unenblip rafte: ton einem, beffen §anb, $em niebern Qitben gleip, bie $erle megmarf, SSftep inert al§ all 7 fein SBolf; beff 7 ubermunb 7 ne§ 2(uge, ©onft nid)t geinobnt p fpmepen, fid) ergeup 3n Xpanen, itie 9(rabien§ Canine tau 7 n 15 s $on ^eUungSfrdffgem 23alfant — fdjreibt ba§ a fte£; Unb fiigt pn&u, baf) in ^llepo, mo (Sin giffger iiirf in ppm Durban einft 7 nen SBenetianer jd)tug unb fcf>alt ben ©taat, — 3d) ben befd)nitt 7 nen §unb am £>at§ ergriff 20 Hub traf ibjn — jo! ' [®r crftid|t fitf). Sob. £) blut 7 ge§ ©nbe! ©rat. Umjonjt nun itnjer 28ort. Ottj. 3p flifjte bid), ©P id) bir £ob gab — nun fei bie§ ber 6plujr. 25 S I Rid) fetber tbteno, fterb 7 ip jo im ®ujs. ©af. ©)ie§ fiird)tet 7 id) — bod) gtaubt 7 pn ope 2£affen — S)enn er mar ppgefinnt. Sob. ©prtan’jdjer ,£mnb, SBerberbliper at§ hunger, $ejt unb 9tteer! 30 0d)au bort bie trag 7 fc^e SBiirbe bieje§ $3ett§: ©)a§ ijt bein SBerf ! $>a§ 2tug 7 erliegt bem 9(nbiid; 1Bert)uHt i§n ! 3P, ©ratiano, bleibt im 0d)lo§ Unb netpt be§ ^ftopen ©iiter in $3efd)tag. ©)enn pr beerbt pn. 35 (3u (Saffio.) ©ud), §err ©outerneur, Siegt ob ba§ Urteil biefe§ pIFfpen SBuben; 3)ie Qeit, ber Drt, bie barter, — fpfirft, o fparft fie pm! — 3d) mitt jogteid) an $8orb unb bem 6enat Sttit jpmerem §er§en fun ben fpmere £pt. [sure getjen ab * { /