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Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
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Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
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The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
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Othello
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If she in chains of magic were not bound,
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In Venice, at the start of
Othello
, the soldier Iago announces his hatred for his commander, Othello, a Moor. Othello has promoted Cassio, not Iago, to be his lieutenant.
Iago crudely informs Brabantio, Desdemona’s father, that Othello and Desdemona have eloped. Before the Venetian Senate, Brabantio accuses Othello of bewitching Desdemona. The Senators wish to send Othello to Cyprus, which is under threat from Turkey. They bring Desdemona before them. She tells of her love for Othello, and the marriage stands. The Senate agrees to let her join Othello in Cyprus.
In Cyprus, Iago continues to plot against Othello and Cassio. He lures Cassio into a drunken fight, for which Cassio loses his new rank; Cassio, at Iago’s urging, then begs Desdemona to intervene. Iago uses this and other ploys—misinterpreted conversations, insinuations, and a lost handkerchief—to convince Othello that Desdemona and Cassio are lovers. Othello goes mad with jealousy and later smothers Desdemona on their marriage bed, only to learn of Iago’s treachery. He then kills himself.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Enter
Roderigo
and
Iago
.
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
.
’Sblood
,
but
you’ll
not
hear
me
!
If
ever
I
did
dream
of
such
a
matter
,
Abhor
me
.
Thou
toldst
me
thou
didst
hold
him
in
thy
hate
.
Despise
me
If
I
do
not
.
Three
great
ones
of
the
city
,
In
personal
suit
to
make
me
his
lieutenant
,
Off-capped
to
him
;
and
,
by
the
faith
of
man
,
I
know
my
price
,
I
am
worth
no
worse
a
place
.
But
he
,
as
loving
his
own
pride
and
purposes
,
Evades
them
with
a
bombast
circumstance
,
Horribly
stuffed
with
epithets
of
war
,
And
in
conclusion
,
Nonsuits
my
mediators
.
For
Certes
,
says
he
,
I
have
already
chose
my
officer
.
And
what
was
he
?
Forsooth
,
a
great
arithmetician
,
One
Michael
Cassio
,
a
Florentine
,
A
fellow
almost
damned
in
a
fair
wife
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
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
togèd
consuls
can
propose
As
masterly
as
he
.
Mere
prattle
without
practice
Is
all
his
soldiership
.
But
he
,
sir
,
had
th’
election
;
And
I
,
of
whom
his
eyes
had
seen
the
proof
At
Rhodes
,
at
Cyprus
,
and
on
other
grounds
Christened
and
heathen
,
must
be
beleed
and
calmed
By
debitor
and
creditor
.
This
countercaster
,
He
,
in
good
time
,
must
his
lieutenant
be
,
And
I
,
God
bless
the
mark
,
his
Moorship’s
ancient
.
By
heaven
,
I
rather
would
have
been
his
hangman
.
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
th’
first
.
Now
,
sir
,
be
judge
yourself
Whether
I
in
any
just
term
am
affined
To
love
the
Moor
.
I
would
not
follow
him
,
then
.
O
,
sir
,
content
you
.
I
follow
him
to
serve
my
turn
upon
him
.
We
cannot
all
be
masters
,
nor
all
masters
Cannot
be
truly
followed
.
You
shall
mark
Many
a
duteous
and
knee-crooking
knave
That
,
doting
on
his
own
obsequious
bondage
,
Wears
out
his
time
,
much
like
his
master’s
ass
,
For
naught
but
provender
,
and
when
he’s
old
,
cashiered
.
Whip
me
such
honest
knaves
!
Others
there
are
Who
,
trimmed
in
forms
and
visages
of
duty
,
Keep
yet
their
hearts
attending
on
themselves
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
And
,
throwing
but
shows
of
service
on
their
lords
,
Do
well
thrive
by
them
;
and
when
they
have
lined
their
coats
,
Do
themselves
homage
.
These
fellows
have
some
soul
,
And
such
a
one
do
I
profess
myself
.
For
,
sir
,
It
is
as
sure
as
you
are
Roderigo
,
Were
I
the
Moor
I
would
not
be
Iago
.
In
following
him
,
I
follow
but
myself
.
Heaven
is
my
judge
,
not
I
for
love
and
duty
,
But
seeming
so
for
my
peculiar
end
.
For
when
my
outward
action
doth
demonstrate
The
native
act
and
figure
of
my
heart
In
complement
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
.
What
a
full
fortune
does
the
thick-lips
owe
If
he
can
carry
’t
thus
!
Call
up
her
father
.
Rouse
him
.
Make
after
him
,
poison
his
delight
,
Proclaim
him
in
the
streets
;
incense
her
kinsmen
,
And
,
though
he
in
a
fertile
climate
dwell
,
Plague
him
with
flies
.
Though
that
his
joy
be
joy
,
Yet
throw
such
chances
of
vexation
on
’t
As
it
may
lose
some
color
.
Here
is
her
father’s
house
.
I’ll
call
aloud
.
Do
,
with
like
timorous
accent
and
dire
yell
As
when
,
by
night
and
negligence
,
the
fire
Is
spied
in
populous
cities
.
What
ho
,
Brabantio
!
Signior
Brabantio
,
ho
!
Awake
!
What
ho
,
Brabantio
!
Thieves
,
thieves
!
ACT 1. SC. 1
Look
to
your
house
,
your
daughter
,
and
your
bags
!
Thieves
,
thieves
!
Enter
Brabantio
,
above
.
What
is
the
reason
of
this
terrible
summons
?
What
is
the
matter
there
?
Signior
,
is
all
your
family
within
?
Are
your
doors
locked
?
Why
,
wherefore
ask
you
this
?
Zounds
,
sir
,
you’re
robbed
.
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
with
the
bell
,
Or
else
the
devil
will
make
a
grandsire
of
you
.
Arise
,
I
say
!
What
,
have
you
lost
your
wits
?
Most
reverend
signior
,
do
you
know
my
voice
?
Not
I
.
What
are
you
?
My
name
is
Roderigo
.
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
distemp’ring
draughts
,
Upon
malicious
bravery
dost
thou
come
To
start
my
quiet
.
Sir
,
sir
,
sir
—
But
thou
must
needs
be
sure
ACT 1. SC. 1
My
spirit
and
my
place
have
in
them
power
To
make
this
bitter
to
thee
.
Patience
,
good
sir
.
What
tell’st
thou
me
of
robbing
?
This
is
Venice
.
My
house
is
not
a
grange
.
Most
grave
Brabantio
,
In
simple
and
pure
soul
I
come
to
you
—
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
jennets
for
germans
.
What
profane
wretch
art
thou
?
I
am
one
,
sir
,
that
comes
to
tell
you
your
daughter
and
the
Moor
are
now
making
the
beast
with
two
backs
.
Thou
art
a
villain
.
You
are
a
senator
.
This
thou
shalt
answer
.
I
know
thee
,
Roderigo
.
Sir
,
I
will
answer
anything
.
But
I
beseech
you
,
If
’t
be
your
pleasure
and
most
wise
consent
—
As
partly
I
find
it
is
—
that
your
fair
daughter
,
At
this
odd-even
and
dull
watch
o’
th’
night
,
Transported
with
no
worse
nor
better
guard
But
with
a
knave
of
common
hire
,
a
gondolier
,
To
the
gross
clasps
of
a
lascivious
Moor
:
If
this
be
known
to
you
,
and
your
allowance
,
We
then
have
done
you
bold
and
saucy
wrongs
.
But
if
you
know
not
this
,
my
manners
tell
me
We
have
your
wrong
rebuke
.
Do
not
believe
That
from
the
sense
of
all
civility
I
thus
would
play
and
trifle
with
your
Reverence
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
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
everywhere
.
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
.
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
!
He
exits
.
,
to
Roderigo
Farewell
,
for
I
must
leave
you
.
It
seems
not
meet
nor
wholesome
to
my
place
To
be
producted
,
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
he’s
embarked
With
such
loud
reason
to
the
Cyprus
wars
,
Which
even
now
stands
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
raisèd
search
,
And
there
will
I
be
with
him
.
So
,
farewell
.
He
exits
.
Enter
Brabantio
in
his
nightgown
,
with
Servants
and
Torches
.
It
is
too
true
an
evil
.
Gone
she
is
,
And
what’s
to
come
of
my
despisèd
time
ACT 1. SC. 1
Is
naught
but
bitterness
.
—
Now
,
Roderigo
,
Where
didst
thou
see
her
?
—
O
,
unhappy
girl
!
—
With
the
Moor
,
sayst
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
?
Truly
,
I
think
they
are
.
O
heaven
!
How
got
she
out
?
O
treason
of
the
blood
!
Fathers
,
from
hence
trust
not
your
daughters’
minds
By
what
you
see
them
act
.
—
Is
there
not
charms
By
which
the
property
of
youth
and
maidhood
May
be
abused
?
Have
you
not
read
,
Roderigo
,
Of
some
such
thing
?
Yes
,
sir
,
I
have
indeed
.
Call
up
my
brother
.
—
O
,
would
you
had
had
her
!
—
Some
one
way
,
some
another
.
—
Do
you
know
Where
we
may
apprehend
her
and
the
Moor
?
I
think
I
can
discover
him
,
if
you
please
To
get
good
guard
and
go
along
with
me
.
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
will
deserve
your
pains
.
They
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Othello
,
Iago
,
Attendants
,
with
Torches
.
Though
in
the
trade
of
war
I
have
slain
men
,
Yet
do
I
hold
it
very
stuff
o’
th’
conscience
To
do
no
contrived
murder
.
I
lack
iniquity
Sometimes
to
do
me
service
.
Nine
or
ten
times
I
had
thought
t’
have
yerked
him
here
under
the
ribs
.
’Tis
better
as
it
is
.
Nay
,
but
he
prated
And
spoke
such
scurvy
and
provoking
terms
Against
your
Honor
,
That
with
the
little
godliness
I
have
I
did
full
hard
forbear
him
.
But
I
pray
you
,
sir
,
Are
you
fast
married
?
Be
assured
of
this
,
That
the
magnifico
is
much
beloved
,
And
hath
in
his
effect
a
voice
potential
As
double
as
the
Duke’s
.
He
will
divorce
you
Or
put
upon
you
what
restraint
or
grievance
The
law
(
with
all
his
might
to
enforce
it
on
)
Will
give
him
cable
.
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
honor
,
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
reached
.
For
know
,
Iago
,
But
that
I
love
the
gentle
Desdemona
,
I
would
not
my
unhousèd
free
condition
Put
into
circumscription
and
confine
For
the
sea’s
worth
.
But
look
,
what
lights
come
yond
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
Those
are
the
raisèd
father
and
his
friends
.
You
were
best
go
in
.
Not
I
.
I
must
be
found
.
My
parts
,
my
title
,
and
my
perfect
soul
Shall
manifest
me
rightly
.
Is
it
they
?
By
Janus
,
I
think
no
.
Enter
Cassio
,
with
Officers
,
and
Torches
.
The
servants
of
the
Duke
and
my
lieutenant
!
The
goodness
of
the
night
upon
you
,
friends
.
What
is
the
news
?
The
Duke
does
greet
you
,
general
,
And
he
requires
your
haste-post-haste
appearance
,
Even
on
the
instant
.
What
is
the
matter
,
think
you
?
Something
from
Cyprus
,
as
I
may
divine
.
It
is
a
business
of
some
heat
.
The
galleys
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
called
for
.
When
,
being
not
at
your
lodging
to
be
found
,
The
Senate
hath
sent
about
three
several
quests
To
search
you
out
.
’Tis
well
I
am
found
by
you
.
I
will
but
spend
a
word
here
in
the
house
And
go
with
you
.
He
exits
.
Ancient
,
what
makes
he
here
?
Faith
,
he
tonight
hath
boarded
a
land
carrack
.
If
it
prove
lawful
prize
,
he’s
made
forever
.
I
do
not
understand
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
He’s
married
.
To
who
?
Marry
,
to
—
Reenter
Othello
.
Come
,
captain
,
will
you
go
?
Have
with
you
.
Here
comes
another
troop
to
seek
for
you
.
Enter
Brabantio
,
Roderigo
,
with
Officers
,
and
Torches
.
It
is
Brabantio
.
General
,
be
advised
,
He
comes
to
bad
intent
.
Holla
,
stand
there
!
Signior
,
it
is
the
Moor
.
Down
with
him
,
thief
!
They
draw
their
swords
.
You
,
Roderigo
!
Come
,
sir
,
I
am
for
you
.
Keep
up
your
bright
swords
,
for
the
dew
will
rust
them
.
Good
signior
,
you
shall
more
command
with
years
Than
with
your
weapons
.
O
,
thou
foul
thief
,
where
hast
thou
stowed
my
daughter
?
Damned
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
shunned
The
wealthy
curlèd
darlings
of
our
nation
,
Would
ever
have
,
t’
incur
a
general
mock
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
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
That
thou
hast
practiced
on
her
with
foul
charms
,
Abused
her
delicate
youth
with
drugs
or
minerals
That
weakens
motion
.
I’ll
have
’t
disputed
on
.
’Tis
probable
,
and
palpable
to
thinking
.
I
therefore
apprehend
and
do
attach
thee
For
an
abuser
of
the
world
,
a
practicer
Of
arts
inhibited
and
out
of
warrant
.
—
Lay
hold
upon
him
.
If
he
do
resist
,
Subdue
him
at
his
peril
.
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
.
—
Whither
will
you
that
I
go
To
answer
this
your
charge
?
To
prison
,
till
fit
time
Of
law
and
course
of
direct
session
Call
thee
to
answer
.
What
if
I
do
obey
?
How
may
the
Duke
be
therewith
satisfied
,
Whose
messengers
are
here
about
my
side
,
Upon
some
present
business
of
the
state
,
To
bring
me
to
him
?
’Tis
true
,
most
worthy
signior
.
The
Duke’s
in
council
,
and
your
noble
self
I
am
sure
is
sent
for
.
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
,
Bondslaves
and
pagans
shall
our
statesmen
be
.
They
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
Duke
,
Senators
,
and
Officers
.
,
reading
a
paper
There’s
no
composition
in
these
news
That
gives
them
credit
.
,
reading
a
paper
Indeed
,
they
are
disproportioned
.
My
letters
say
a
hundred
and
seven
galleys
.
And
mine
,
a
hundred
forty
.
,
reading
a
paper
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
.
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
.
,
within
What
ho
,
what
ho
,
what
ho
!
Enter
Sailor
.
A
messenger
from
the
galleys
.
Now
,
what’s
the
business
?
The
Turkish
preparation
makes
for
Rhodes
.
So
was
I
bid
report
here
to
the
state
By
Signior
Angelo
.
He
exits
.
How
say
you
by
this
change
?
This
cannot
be
,
By
no
assay
of
reason
.
’Tis
a
pageant
To
keep
us
in
false
gaze
.
When
we
consider
Th’
importancy
of
Cyprus
to
the
Turk
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
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
th’
abilities
That
Rhodes
is
dressed
in
—
if
we
make
thought
of
this
,
We
must
not
think
the
Turk
is
so
unskillful
To
leave
that
latest
which
concerns
him
first
,
Neglecting
an
attempt
of
ease
and
gain
To
wake
and
wage
a
danger
profitless
.
Nay
,
in
all
confidence
,
he’s
not
for
Rhodes
.
Here
is
more
news
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
The
Ottomites
,
Reverend
and
Gracious
,
Steering
with
due
course
toward
the
isle
of
Rhodes
,
Have
there
injointed
them
with
an
after
fleet
.
Ay
,
so
I
thought
.
How
many
,
as
you
guess
?
Of
thirty
sail
;
and
now
they
do
restem
Their
backward
course
,
bearing
with
frank
appearance
Their
purposes
toward
Cyprus
.
Signior
Montano
,
Your
trusty
and
most
valiant
servitor
,
With
his
free
duty
recommends
you
thus
,
And
prays
you
to
believe
him
.
He
exits
.
’Tis
certain
,
then
,
for
Cyprus
.
Marcus
Luccicos
,
is
not
he
in
town
?
He’s
now
in
Florence
.
Write
from
us
to
him
.
Post-post-haste
.
Dispatch
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Here
comes
Brabantio
and
the
valiant
Moor
.
Enter
Brabantio
,
Othello
,
Cassio
,
Iago
,
Roderigo
,
and
Officers
.
Valiant
Othello
,
we
must
straight
employ
you
Against
the
general
enemy
Ottoman
.
To
Brabantio
.
I
did
not
see
you
.
Welcome
,
gentle
signior
.
We
lacked
your
counsel
and
your
help
tonight
.
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
floodgate
and
o’erbearing
nature
That
it
engluts
and
swallows
other
sorrows
And
it
is
still
itself
.
Why
,
what’s
the
matter
?
My
daughter
!
O
,
my
daughter
!
Dead
?
Ay
,
to
me
.
She
is
abused
,
stol’n
from
me
,
and
corrupted
By
spells
and
medicines
bought
of
mountebanks
;
For
nature
so
prepost’rously
to
err
—
Being
not
deficient
,
blind
,
or
lame
of
sense
—
Sans
witchcraft
could
not
.
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
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Humbly
I
thank
your
Grace
.
Here
is
the
man
—
this
Moor
,
whom
now
it
seems
Your
special
mandate
for
the
state
affairs
Hath
hither
brought
.
We
are
very
sorry
for
’t
.
,
to
Othello
What
,
in
your
own
part
,
can
you
say
to
this
?
Nothing
,
but
this
is
so
.
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
.
Rude
am
I
in
my
speech
,
And
little
blessed
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
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
unvarnished
tale
deliver
Of
my
whole
course
of
love
—
what
drugs
,
what
charms
,
What
conjuration
,
and
what
mighty
magic
(
For
such
proceeding
I
am
charged
withal
)
I
won
his
daughter
.
A
maiden
never
bold
,
Of
spirit
so
still
and
quiet
that
her
motion
Blushed
at
herself
.
And
she
,
in
spite
of
nature
,
Of
years
,
of
country
,
credit
,
everything
,
To
fall
in
love
with
what
she
feared
to
look
on
!
It
is
a
judgment
maimed
and
most
imperfect
ACT 1. SC. 3
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
That
with
some
mixtures
powerful
o’er
the
blood
,
Or
with
some
dram
conjured
to
this
effect
,
He
wrought
upon
her
.
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
.
But
,
Othello
,
speak
:
Did
you
by
indirect
and
forcèd
courses
Subdue
and
poison
this
young
maid’s
affections
?
Or
came
it
by
request
,
and
such
fair
question
As
soul
to
soul
affordeth
?
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
.
Fetch
Desdemona
hither
.
Ancient
,
conduct
them
.
You
best
know
the
place
.
Iago
and
Attendants
exit
.
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
.
Say
it
,
Othello
.
Her
father
loved
me
,
oft
invited
me
,
Still
questioned
me
the
story
of
my
life
ACT 1. SC. 3
From
year
to
year
—
the
battles
,
sieges
,
fortunes
That
I
have
passed
.
I
ran
it
through
,
even
from
my
boyish
days
To
th’
very
moment
that
he
bade
me
tell
it
,
Wherein
I
spoke
of
most
disastrous
chances
:
Of
moving
accidents
by
flood
and
field
,
Of
hairbreadth
’scapes
i’
th’
imminent
deadly
breach
,
Of
being
taken
by
the
insolent
foe
And
sold
to
slavery
,
of
my
redemption
thence
,
And
portance
in
my
traveler’s
history
,
Wherein
of
antres
vast
and
deserts
idle
,
Rough
quarries
,
rocks
,
and
hills
whose
heads
touch
heaven
,
It
was
my
hint
to
speak
—
such
was
my
process
—
And
of
the
cannibals
that
each
other
eat
,
The
Anthropophagi
,
and
men
whose
heads
Do
grow
beneath
their
shoulders
.
These
things
to
hear
Would
Desdemona
seriously
incline
.
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
,
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
suffered
.
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
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
She
wished
she
had
not
heard
it
,
yet
she
wished
That
heaven
had
made
her
such
a
man
.
She
thanked
me
,
And
bade
me
,
if
I
had
a
friend
that
loved
her
,
I
should
but
teach
him
how
to
tell
my
story
,
And
that
would
woo
her
.
Upon
this
hint
I
spake
.
She
loved
me
for
the
dangers
I
had
passed
,
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
.
Enter
Desdemona
,
Iago
,
Attendants
.
I
think
this
tale
would
win
my
daughter
,
too
.
Good
Brabantio
,
Take
up
this
mangled
matter
at
the
best
.
Men
do
their
broken
weapons
rather
use
Than
their
bare
hands
.
I
pray
you
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
?
My
noble
father
,
I
do
perceive
here
a
divided
duty
.
To
you
I
am
bound
for
life
and
education
.
My
life
and
education
both
do
learn
me
How
to
respect
you
.
You
are
the
lord
of
duty
.
I
am
hitherto
your
daughter
.
But
here’s
my
husband
.
And
so
much
duty
as
my
mother
showed
To
you
,
preferring
you
before
her
father
,
So
much
I
challenge
that
I
may
profess
Due
to
the
Moor
my
lord
.
God
be
with
you
!
I
have
done
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Please
it
your
Grace
,
on
to
the
state
affairs
.
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
.
Let
me
speak
like
yourself
and
lay
a
sentence
,
Which
as
a
grise
or
step
may
help
these
lovers
Into
your
favor
.
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
mock’ry
makes
.
The
robbed
that
smiles
steals
something
from
the
thief
;
He
robs
himself
that
spends
a
bootless
grief
.
So
let
the
Turk
of
Cyprus
us
beguile
,
We
lose
it
not
so
long
as
we
can
smile
.
He
bears
the
sentence
well
that
nothing
bears
But
the
free
comfort
which
from
thence
he
hears
;
But
he
bears
both
the
sentence
and
the
sorrow
That
,
to
pay
grief
,
must
of
poor
patience
borrow
.
These
sentences
to
sugar
or
to
gall
,
Being
strong
on
both
sides
,
are
equivocal
.
But
words
are
words
.
I
never
yet
did
hear
That
the
bruised
heart
was
piercèd
through
the
ear
.
I
humbly
beseech
you
,
proceed
to
th’
affairs
of
state
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
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
fortunes
with
this
more
stubborn
and
boist’rous
expedition
.
The
tyrant
custom
,
most
grave
senators
,
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
.
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
.
Why
,
at
her
father’s
.
I
will
not
have
it
so
.
Nor
I
.
Nor
would
I
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
T’
assist
my
simpleness
.
What
would
you
,
Desdemona
?
That
I
did
love
the
Moor
to
live
with
him
My
downright
violence
and
storm
of
fortunes
May
trumpet
to
the
world
.
My
heart’s
subdued
Even
to
the
very
quality
of
my
lord
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
I
saw
Othello’s
visage
in
his
mind
,
And
to
his
honors
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
why
I
love
him
are
bereft
me
And
I
a
heavy
interim
shall
support
By
his
dear
absence
.
Let
me
go
with
him
.
Let
her
have
your
voice
.
Vouch
with
me
,
heaven
,
I
therefore
beg
it
not
To
please
the
palate
of
my
appetite
,
Nor
to
comply
with
heat
(
the
young
affects
In
me
defunct
)
and
proper
satisfaction
,
But
to
be
free
and
bounteous
to
her
mind
.
And
heaven
defend
your
good
souls
that
you
think
I
will
your
serious
and
great
business
scant
For
she
is
with
me
.
No
,
when
light-winged
toys
Of
feathered
Cupid
seel
with
wanton
dullness
My
speculative
and
officed
instruments
,
That
my
disports
corrupt
and
taint
my
business
,
Let
housewives
make
a
skillet
of
my
helm
,
And
all
indign
and
base
adversities
Make
head
against
my
estimation
.
Be
it
as
you
shall
privately
determine
,
Either
for
her
stay
or
going
.
Th’
affair
cries
haste
,
And
speed
must
answer
it
.
You
must
away
tonight
.
With
all
my
heart
.
At
nine
i’
th’
morning
here
we’ll
meet
again
.
Othello
,
leave
some
officer
behind
And
he
shall
our
commission
bring
to
you
,
With
such
things
else
of
quality
and
respect
As
doth
import
you
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
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
.
Let
it
be
so
.
Good
night
to
everyone
.
To
Brabantio
.
And
,
noble
signior
,
If
virtue
no
delighted
beauty
lack
,
Your
son-in-law
is
far
more
fair
than
black
.
Adieu
,
brave
Moor
,
use
Desdemona
well
.
Look
to
her
,
Moor
,
if
thou
hast
eyes
to
see
.
She
has
deceived
her
father
,
and
may
thee
.
He
exits
.
My
life
upon
her
faith
!
The
Duke
,
the
Senators
,
Cassio
,
and
Officers
exit
.
Honest
Iago
,
My
Desdemona
must
I
leave
to
thee
.
I
prithee
let
thy
wife
attend
on
her
,
And
bring
them
after
in
the
best
advantage
.
—
Come
,
Desdemona
,
I
have
but
an
hour
Of
love
,
of
worldly
matters
,
and
direction
To
spend
with
thee
.
We
must
obey
the
time
.
Othello
and
Desdemona
exit
.
Iago
—
What
sayst
thou
,
noble
heart
?
What
will
I
do
,
think’st
thou
?
Why
,
go
to
bed
and
sleep
.
I
will
incontinently
drown
myself
.
If
thou
dost
,
I
shall
never
love
thee
after
.
Why
,
thou
silly
gentleman
!
It
is
silliness
to
live
,
when
to
live
is
torment
,
and
then
have
we
a
prescription
to
die
when
death
is
our
physician
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
O
,
villainous
!
I
have
looked
upon
the
world
for
four
times
seven
years
,
and
since
I
could
distinguish
betwixt
a
benefit
and
an
injury
,
I
never
found
man
that
knew
how
to
love
himself
.
Ere
I
would
say
I
would
drown
myself
for
the
love
of
a
guinea
hen
,
I
would
change
my
humanity
with
a
baboon
.
What
should
I
do
?
I
confess
it
is
my
shame
to
be
so
fond
,
but
it
is
not
in
my
virtue
to
amend
it
.
Virtue
?
A
fig
!
’Tis
in
ourselves
that
we
are
thus
or
thus
.
Our
bodies
are
our
gardens
,
to
the
which
our
wills
are
gardeners
.
So
that
if
we
will
plant
nettles
or
sow
lettuce
,
set
hyssop
and
weed
up
thyme
,
supply
it
with
one
gender
of
herbs
or
distract
it
with
many
,
either
to
have
it
sterile
with
idleness
or
manured
with
industry
,
why
the
power
and
corrigible
authority
of
this
lies
in
our
wills
.
If
the
balance
of
our
lives
had
not
one
scale
of
reason
to
poise
another
of
sensuality
,
the
blood
and
baseness
of
our
natures
would
conduct
us
to
most
prepost’rous
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
.
It
cannot
be
.
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
favor
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
in
her
,
and
thou
shalt
see
an
answerable
sequestration
ACT 1. SC. 3
—
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
.
Therefore
,
put
money
in
thy
purse
.
If
thou
wilt
needs
damn
thyself
,
do
it
a
more
delicate
way
than
drowning
.
Make
all
the
money
thou
canst
.
If
sanctimony
and
a
frail
vow
betwixt
an
erring
barbarian
and
a
supersubtle
Venetian
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
.
Wilt
thou
be
fast
to
my
hopes
if
I
depend
on
the
issue
?
Thou
art
sure
of
me
.
Go
,
make
money
.
I
have
told
thee
often
,
and
I
retell
thee
again
and
again
,
I
hate
the
Moor
.
My
cause
is
hearted
;
thine
hath
no
less
reason
.
Let
us
be
conjunctive
in
our
revenge
against
him
.
If
thou
canst
cuckold
him
,
thou
dost
thyself
a
pleasure
,
me
a
sport
.
There
are
many
events
in
the
womb
of
time
which
will
be
delivered
.
Traverse
,
go
,
provide
thy
money
.
We
will
have
more
of
this
tomorrow
.
Adieu
.
Where
shall
we
meet
i’
th’
morning
?
At
my
lodging
.
I’ll
be
with
thee
betimes
.
Go
to
,
farewell
.
Do
you
hear
,
Roderigo
?
What
say
you
?
No
more
of
drowning
,
do
you
hear
?
I
am
changed
.
Go
to
,
farewell
.
Put
money
enough
in
your
purse
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
I’ll
sell
all
my
land
.
He
exits
.
Thus
do
I
ever
make
my
fool
my
purse
.
For
I
mine
own
gained
knowledge
should
profane
If
I
would
time
expend
with
such
a
snipe
But
for
my
sport
and
profit
.
I
hate
the
Moor
,
And
it
is
thought
abroad
that
’twixt
my
sheets
’Has
done
my
office
.
I
know
not
if
’t
be
true
,
But
I
,
for
mere
suspicion
in
that
kind
,
Will
do
as
if
for
surety
.
He
holds
me
well
.
The
better
shall
my
purpose
work
on
him
.
Cassio’s
a
proper
man
.
Let
me
see
now
:
To
get
his
place
and
to
plume
up
my
will
In
double
knavery
—
How
?
how
?
—
Let’s
see
.
After
some
time
,
to
abuse
Othello’s
ear
That
he
is
too
familiar
with
his
wife
.
He
hath
a
person
and
a
smooth
dispose
To
be
suspected
,
framed
to
make
women
false
.
The
Moor
is
of
a
free
and
open
nature
That
thinks
men
honest
that
but
seem
to
be
so
,
And
will
as
tenderly
be
led
by
th’
nose
As
asses
are
.
I
have
’t
.
It
is
engendered
.
Hell
and
night
Must
bring
this
monstrous
birth
to
the
world’s
light
.
He
exits
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Enter
Montano
and
two
Gentlemen
.
What
from
the
cape
can
you
discern
at
sea
?
Nothing
at
all
.
It
is
a
high-wrought
flood
.
I
cannot
’twixt
the
heaven
and
the
main
Descry
a
sail
.
Methinks
the
wind
hath
spoke
aloud
at
land
.
A
fuller
blast
ne’er
shook
our
battlements
.
If
it
hath
ruffianed
so
upon
the
sea
,
What
ribs
of
oak
,
when
mountains
melt
on
them
,
Can
hold
the
mortise
?
What
shall
we
hear
of
this
?
A
segregation
of
the
Turkish
fleet
.
For
do
but
stand
upon
the
foaming
shore
,
The
chidden
billow
seems
to
pelt
the
clouds
,
The
wind-shaked
surge
,
with
high
and
monstrous
mane
,
Seems
to
cast
water
on
the
burning
Bear
And
quench
the
guards
of
th’
ever-fixèd
pole
.
I
never
did
like
molestation
view
On
the
enchafèd
flood
.
If
that
the
Turkish
fleet
Be
not
ensheltered
and
embayed
,
they
are
drowned
.
It
is
impossible
to
bear
it
out
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
Enter
a
third
Gentleman
.
News
,
lads
!
Our
wars
are
done
.
The
desperate
tempest
hath
so
banged
the
Turks
That
their
designment
halts
.
A
noble
ship
of
Venice
Hath
seen
a
grievous
wrack
and
sufferance
On
most
part
of
their
fleet
.
How
?
Is
this
true
?
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
.
I
am
glad
on
’t
.
’Tis
a
worthy
governor
.
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
.
Pray
heaven
he
be
;
For
I
have
served
him
,
and
the
man
commands
Like
a
full
soldier
.
Let’s
to
the
seaside
,
ho
!
As
well
to
see
the
vessel
that’s
come
in
As
to
throw
out
our
eyes
for
brave
Othello
,
Even
till
we
make
the
main
and
th’
aerial
blue
An
indistinct
regard
.
Come
,
let’s
do
so
;
For
every
minute
is
expectancy
Of
more
arrivance
.
Enter
Cassio
.
Thanks
,
you
the
valiant
of
this
warlike
isle
,
That
so
approve
the
Moor
!
O
,
let
the
heavens
ACT 2. SC. 1
Give
him
defense
against
the
elements
,
For
I
have
lost
him
on
a
dangerous
sea
.
Is
he
well
shipped
?
His
bark
is
stoutly
timbered
,
and
his
pilot
Of
very
expert
and
approved
allowance
;
Therefore
my
hopes
,
not
surfeited
to
death
,
Stand
in
bold
cure
.
Voices
cry
within
.
A
sail
,
a
sail
,
a
sail
!
Enter
a
Messenger
.
What
noise
?
The
town
is
empty
;
on
the
brow
o’
th’
sea
Stand
ranks
of
people
,
and
they
cry
A
sail
!
My
hopes
do
shape
him
for
the
Governor
.
A
shot
.
They
do
discharge
their
shot
of
courtesy
.
Our
friends
,
at
least
.
I
pray
you
,
sir
,
go
forth
,
And
give
us
truth
who
’tis
that
is
arrived
.
I
shall
.
He
exits
.
But
,
good
lieutenant
,
is
your
general
wived
?
Most
fortunately
.
He
hath
achieved
a
maid
That
paragons
description
and
wild
fame
,
One
that
excels
the
quirks
of
blazoning
pens
,
And
in
th’
essential
vesture
of
creation
Does
tire
the
ingener
.
Enter
Second
Gentleman
.
How
now
?
Who
has
put
in
?
ACT 2. SC. 1
’Tis
one
Iago
,
ancient
to
the
General
.
’Has
had
most
favorable
and
happy
speed
!
Tempests
themselves
,
high
seas
,
and
howling
winds
,
The
guttered
rocks
and
congregated
sands
(
Traitors
ensteeped
to
clog
the
guiltless
keel
)
,
As
having
sense
of
beauty
,
do
omit
Their
mortal
natures
,
letting
go
safely
by
The
divine
Desdemona
.
What
is
she
?
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
sennight’s
speed
.
Great
Jove
,
Othello
guard
,
And
swell
his
sail
with
thine
own
powerful
breath
,
That
he
may
bless
this
bay
with
his
tall
ship
,
Make
love’s
quick
pants
in
Desdemona’s
arms
,
Give
renewed
fire
to
our
extincted
spirits
,
And
bring
all
Cyprus
comfort
!
Enter
Desdemona
,
Iago
,
Roderigo
,
and
Emilia
.
O
,
behold
,
The
riches
of
the
ship
is
come
on
shore
!
You
men
of
Cyprus
,
let
her
have
your
knees
.
He
kneels
.
Hail
to
thee
,
lady
,
and
the
grace
of
heaven
,
Before
,
behind
thee
,
and
on
every
hand
Enwheel
thee
round
.
He
rises
.
I
thank
you
,
valiant
Cassio
.
What
tidings
can
you
tell
of
my
lord
?
He
is
not
yet
arrived
,
nor
know
I
aught
But
that
he’s
well
and
will
be
shortly
here
.
O
,
but
I
fear
—
How
lost
you
company
?
ACT 2. SC. 1
The
great
contention
of
sea
and
skies
Parted
our
fellowship
.
Within
A
sail
,
a
sail
!
A
shot
.
But
hark
,
a
sail
!
They
give
their
greeting
to
the
citadel
.
This
likewise
is
a
friend
.
See
for
the
news
.
Second
Gentleman
exits
.
Good
ancient
,
you
are
welcome
.
Welcome
,
mistress
.
He
kisses
Emilia
.
Let
it
not
gall
your
patience
,
good
Iago
,
That
I
extend
my
manners
.
’Tis
my
breeding
That
gives
me
this
bold
show
of
courtesy
.
Sir
,
would
she
give
you
so
much
of
her
lips
As
of
her
tongue
she
oft
bestows
on
me
,
You
would
have
enough
.
Alas
,
she
has
no
speech
!
In
faith
,
too
much
.
I
find
it
still
when
I
have
list
to
sleep
.
Marry
,
before
your
Ladyship
,
I
grant
,
She
puts
her
tongue
a
little
in
her
heart
And
chides
with
thinking
.
You
have
little
cause
to
say
so
.
Come
on
,
come
on
!
You
are
pictures
out
of
door
,
bells
in
your
parlors
,
wildcats
in
your
kitchens
,
saints
in
your
injuries
,
devils
being
offended
,
players
in
your
huswifery
,
and
huswives
in
your
beds
.
Oh
,
fie
upon
thee
,
slanderer
.
Nay
,
it
is
true
,
or
else
I
am
a
Turk
.
You
rise
to
play
,
and
go
to
bed
to
work
.
You
shall
not
write
my
praise
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
No
,
let
me
not
.
What
wouldst
write
of
me
if
thou
shouldst
praise
me
?
O
,
gentle
lady
,
do
not
put
me
to
’t
,
For
I
am
nothing
if
not
critical
.
Come
on
,
assay
.
—
There’s
one
gone
to
the
harbor
?
Ay
,
madam
.
,
aside
I
am
not
merry
,
but
I
do
beguile
The
thing
I
am
by
seeming
otherwise
.
—
Come
,
how
wouldst
thou
praise
me
?
I
am
about
it
,
but
indeed
my
invention
comes
from
my
pate
as
birdlime
does
from
frieze
:
it
plucks
out
brains
and
all
.
But
my
muse
labors
,
and
thus
she
is
delivered
:
If
she
be
fair
and
wise
,
fairness
and
wit
,
The
one’s
for
use
,
the
other
useth
it
.
Well
praised
!
How
if
she
be
black
and
witty
?
If
she
be
black
,
and
thereto
have
a
wit
,
She’ll
find
a
white
that
shall
her
blackness
hit
.
Worse
and
worse
.
How
if
fair
and
foolish
?
She
never
yet
was
foolish
that
was
fair
,
For
even
her
folly
helped
her
to
an
heir
.
These
are
old
fond
paradoxes
to
make
fools
laugh
i’
th’
alehouse
.
What
miserable
praise
hast
thou
for
her
that’s
foul
and
foolish
?
There’s
none
so
foul
and
foolish
thereunto
,
But
does
foul
pranks
which
fair
and
wise
ones
do
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
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
?
She
that
was
ever
fair
and
never
proud
,
Had
tongue
at
will
and
yet
was
never
loud
,
Never
lacked
gold
and
yet
went
never
gay
,
Fled
from
her
wish
,
and
yet
said
Now
I
may
,
She
that
being
angered
,
her
revenge
being
nigh
,
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
—
To
do
what
?
To
suckle
fools
and
chronicle
small
beer
.
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
counselor
?
He
speaks
home
,
madam
.
You
may
relish
him
more
in
the
soldier
than
in
the
scholar
.
Cassio
takes
Desdemona’s
hand
.
,
aside
He
takes
her
by
the
palm
.
Ay
,
well
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
,
indeed
.
Yet
ACT 2. SC. 1
again
your
fingers
to
your
lips
?
Would
they
were
clyster
pipes
for
your
sake
!
Trumpets
within
.
The
Moor
.
I
know
his
trumpet
.
’Tis
truly
so
.
Let’s
meet
him
and
receive
him
.
Lo
,
where
he
comes
!
Enter
Othello
and
Attendants
.
O
,
my
fair
warrior
!
My
dear
Othello
!
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
wakened
death
,
And
let
the
laboring
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
My
soul
hath
her
content
so
absolute
That
not
another
comfort
like
to
this
Succeeds
in
unknown
fate
.
The
heavens
forbid
But
that
our
loves
and
comforts
should
increase
Even
as
our
days
do
grow
!
Amen
to
that
,
sweet
powers
!
I
cannot
speak
enough
of
this
content
.
It
stops
me
here
;
it
is
too
much
of
joy
.
They
kiss
.
And
this
,
and
this
,
the
greatest
discords
be
That
e’er
our
hearts
shall
make
!
,
aside
O
,
you
are
well
tuned
now
,
But
I’ll
set
down
the
pegs
that
make
this
music
,
As
honest
as
I
am
.
Come
.
Let
us
to
the
castle
.
—
News
,
friends
!
Our
wars
are
done
.
The
Turks
are
drowned
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
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
Iago
,
Go
to
the
bay
and
disembark
my
coffers
.
Bring
thou
the
master
to
the
citadel
.
He
is
a
good
one
,
and
his
worthiness
Does
challenge
much
respect
.
—
Come
,
Desdemona
.
Once
more
,
well
met
at
Cyprus
.
All
but
Iago
and
Roderigo
exit
.
,
to
a
departing
Attendant
Do
thou
meet
me
presently
at
the
harbor
.
To
Roderigo
.
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
tonight
watches
on
the
court
of
guard
.
First
,
I
must
tell
thee
this
:
Desdemona
is
directly
in
love
with
him
.
With
him
?
Why
,
’tis
not
possible
.
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
favor
,
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
unforced
position
—
who
stands
so
eminent
in
the
degree
of
ACT 2. SC. 1
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
compassing
of
his
salt
and
most
hidden
loose
affection
.
Why
,
none
,
why
,
none
!
A
slipper
and
subtle
knave
,
a
finder-out
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
.
I
cannot
believe
that
in
her
.
She’s
full
of
most
blessed
condition
.
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
?
Yes
,
that
I
did
.
But
that
was
but
courtesy
.
Lechery
,
by
this
hand
!
An
index
and
obscure
prologue
to
the
history
of
lust
and
foul
thoughts
.
They
met
so
near
with
their
lips
that
their
breaths
embraced
together
.
Villainous
thoughts
,
Roderigo
!
When
these
mutualities
so
marshal
the
way
,
hard
at
hand
comes
the
master
and
main
exercise
,
th’
incorporate
conclusion
.
Pish
!
But
,
sir
,
be
you
ruled
by
me
.
I
have
brought
you
from
Venice
.
Watch
you
tonight
.
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
favorably
minister
.
Well
.
Sir
,
he’s
rash
and
very
sudden
in
choler
,
and
ACT 2. SC. 1
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
displanting
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
prosperity
.
I
will
do
this
,
if
you
can
bring
it
to
any
opportunity
.
I
warrant
thee
.
Meet
me
by
and
by
at
the
citadel
.
I
must
fetch
his
necessaries
ashore
.
Farewell
.
Adieu
.
He
exits
.
That
Cassio
loves
her
,
I
do
well
believe
’t
.
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
,
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
leaped
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
evened
with
him
,
wife
for
wife
,
Or
,
failing
so
,
yet
that
I
put
the
Moor
At
least
into
a
jealousy
so
strong
That
judgment
cannot
cure
.
Which
thing
to
do
,
If
this
poor
trash
of
Venice
,
whom
I
trace
For
his
quick
hunting
,
stand
the
putting
on
,
I’ll
have
our
Michael
Cassio
on
the
hip
,
Abuse
him
to
the
Moor
in
the
rank
garb
(
For
I
fear
Cassio
with
my
nightcap
too
)
,
ACT 2. SC. 2/3
Make
the
Moor
thank
me
,
love
me
,
and
reward
me
For
making
him
egregiously
an
ass
And
practicing
upon
his
peace
and
quiet
Even
to
madness
.
’Tis
here
,
but
yet
confused
.
Knavery’s
plain
face
is
never
seen
till
used
.
He
exits
.
Scene
2
Enter
Othello’s
Herald
with
a
proclamation
.
It
is
Othello’s
pleasure
,
our
noble
and
valiant
general
,
that
upon
certain
tidings
now
arrived
,
importing
the
mere
perdition
of
the
Turkish
fleet
,
every
man
put
himself
into
triumph
:
some
to
dance
,
some
to
make
bonfires
,
each
man
to
what
sport
and
revels
his
addition
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
!
He
exits
.
Scene
3
Enter
Othello
,
Desdemona
,
Cassio
,
and
Attendants
.
Good
Michael
,
look
you
to
the
guard
tonight
.
Let’s
teach
ourselves
that
honorable
stop
Not
to
outsport
discretion
.
Iago
hath
direction
what
to
do
,
But
notwithstanding
,
with
my
personal
eye
Will
I
look
to
’t
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Iago
is
most
honest
.
Michael
,
goodnight
.
Tomorrow
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
.
—
Goodnight
.
Othello
and
Desdemona
exit
,
with
Attendants
.
Enter
Iago
.
Welcome
,
Iago
.
We
must
to
the
watch
.
Not
this
hour
,
lieutenant
.
’Tis
not
yet
ten
o’
th’
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
.
She’s
a
most
exquisite
lady
.
And
,
I’ll
warrant
her
,
full
of
game
.
Indeed
,
she’s
a
most
fresh
and
delicate
creature
.
What
an
eye
she
has
!
Methinks
it
sounds
a
parley
to
provocation
.
An
inviting
eye
,
and
yet
methinks
right
modest
.
And
when
she
speaks
,
is
it
not
an
alarum
to
love
?
She
is
indeed
perfection
.
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
.
Not
tonight
,
good
Iago
.
I
have
very
poor
and
unhappy
brains
for
drinking
.
I
could
well
wish
courtesy
would
invent
some
other
custom
of
entertainment
.
O
,
they
are
our
friends
!
But
one
cup
;
I’ll
drink
for
you
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
I
have
drunk
but
one
cup
tonight
,
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
.
What
,
man
!
’Tis
a
night
of
revels
.
The
gallants
desire
it
.
Where
are
they
?
Here
at
the
door
.
I
pray
you
,
call
them
in
.
I’ll
do
’t
,
but
it
dislikes
me
.
He
exits
.
If
I
can
fasten
but
one
cup
upon
him
With
that
which
he
hath
drunk
tonight
already
,
He’ll
be
as
full
of
quarrel
and
offense
As
my
young
mistress’
dog
.
Now
my
sick
fool
Roderigo
,
Whom
love
hath
turned
almost
the
wrong
side
out
,
To
Desdemona
hath
tonight
caroused
Potations
pottle-deep
;
and
he’s
to
watch
.
Three
else
of
Cyprus
,
noble
swelling
spirits
That
hold
their
honors
in
a
wary
distance
,
The
very
elements
of
this
warlike
isle
,
Have
I
tonight
flustered
with
flowing
cups
;
And
they
watch
too
.
Now
,
’mongst
this
flock
of
drunkards
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
.
Enter
Cassio
,
Montano
,
and
Gentlemen
,
followed
by
Servants
with
wine
.
’Fore
God
,
they
have
given
me
a
rouse
already
.
Good
faith
,
a
little
one
;
not
past
a
pint
,
as
I
am
a
soldier
.
Some
wine
,
ho
!
ACT 2. SC. 3
Sings
.
And
let
me
the
cannikin
clink
,
clink
,
And
let
me
the
cannikin
clink
.
A
soldier’s
a
man
,
O
,
man’s
life’s
but
a
span
,
Why
,
then
,
let
a
soldier
drink
.
Some
wine
,
boys
!
’Fore
God
,
an
excellent
song
.
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
.
Is
your
Englishman
so
exquisite
in
his
drinking
?
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
.
To
the
health
of
our
general
!
I
am
for
it
,
lieutenant
,
and
I’ll
do
you
justice
.
O
sweet
England
!
Sings
.
King
Stephen
was
and-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
thy
auld
cloak
about
thee
.
Some
wine
,
ho
!
’Fore
God
,
this
is
a
more
exquisite
song
than
the
other
!
Will
you
hear
’t
again
?
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
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
It’s
true
,
good
lieutenant
.
For
mine
own
part
—
no
offense
to
the
General
,
nor
any
man
of
quality
—
I
hope
to
be
saved
.
And
so
do
I
too
,
lieutenant
.
Ay
,
but
,
by
your
leave
,
not
before
me
.
The
Lieutenant
is
to
be
saved
before
the
Ancient
.
Let’s
have
no
more
of
this
.
Let’s
to
our
affairs
.
God
forgive
us
our
sins
!
Gentlemen
,
let’s
look
to
our
business
.
Do
not
think
,
gentlemen
,
I
am
drunk
.
This
is
my
ancient
,
this
is
my
right
hand
,
and
this
is
my
left
.
I
am
not
drunk
now
.
I
can
stand
well
enough
,
and
I
speak
well
enough
.
Excellent
well
.
Why
,
very
well
then
.
You
must
not
think
then
that
I
am
drunk
.
He
exits
.
To
th’
platform
,
masters
.
Come
,
let’s
set
the
watch
.
Gentlemen
exit
.
,
to
Montano
You
see
this
fellow
that
is
gone
before
?
He’s
a
soldier
fit
to
stand
by
Caesar
And
give
direction
;
and
do
but
see
his
vice
.
’Tis
to
his
virtue
a
just
equinox
,
The
one
as
long
as
th’
other
.
’Tis
pity
of
him
.
I
fear
the
trust
Othello
puts
him
in
,
On
some
odd
time
of
his
infirmity
,
Will
shake
this
island
.
But
is
he
often
thus
?
’Tis
evermore
the
prologue
to
his
sleep
.
He’ll
watch
the
horologe
a
double
set
If
drink
rock
not
his
cradle
.
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
?
ACT 2. SC. 3
Enter
Roderigo
.
,
aside
to
Roderigo
How
now
,
Roderigo
?
I
pray
you
,
after
the
Lieutenant
,
go
.
Roderigo
exits
.
And
’tis
great
pity
that
the
noble
Moor
Should
hazard
such
a
place
as
his
own
second
With
one
of
an
engraffed
infirmity
.
It
were
an
honest
action
to
say
so
To
the
Moor
.
Not
I
,
for
this
fair
island
.
I
do
love
Cassio
well
and
would
do
much
To
cure
him
of
this
evil
—
Help
,
help
!
within
.
But
hark
!
What
noise
?
Enter
Cassio
,
pursuing
Roderigo
.
Zounds
,
you
rogue
,
you
rascal
!
What’s
the
matter
,
lieutenant
?
A
knave
teach
me
my
duty
?
I’ll
beat
the
knave
into
a
twiggen
bottle
.
Beat
me
?
Dost
thou
prate
,
rogue
?
He
hits
Roderigo
.
Nay
,
good
lieutenant
.
I
pray
you
,
sir
,
hold
your
hand
.
Let
me
go
,
sir
,
or
I’ll
knock
you
o’er
the
mazard
.
Come
,
come
,
you’re
drunk
.
Drunk
?
They
fight
.
,
aside
to
Roderigo
Away
,
I
say
!
Go
out
and
cry
a
mutiny
.
Roderigo
exits
.
Nay
,
good
lieutenant
.
—
God’s
will
,
gentlemen
!
—
Help
,
ho
!
Lieutenant
—
sir
—
Montano
—
sir
—
Help
,
masters
!
—
Here’s
a
goodly
watch
indeed
!
A
bell
is
rung
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Who’s
that
which
rings
the
bell
?
Diablo
,
ho
!
The
town
will
rise
.
God’s
will
,
lieutenant
,
hold
!
You
will
be
shamed
forever
.
Enter
Othello
and
Attendants
.
What
is
the
matter
here
?
Zounds
,
I
bleed
still
.
I
am
hurt
to
th’
death
.
He
dies
!
He
attacks
Cassio
.
Hold
,
for
your
lives
!
Hold
,
ho
!
Lieutenant
—
sir
—
Montano
—
gentlemen
—
Have
you
forgot
all
sense
of
place
and
duty
?
Hold
!
The
General
speaks
to
you
.
Hold
,
for
shame
!
Why
,
how
now
,
ho
!
From
whence
ariseth
this
?
Are
we
turned
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
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
looks
dead
with
grieving
,
Speak
.
Who
began
this
?
On
thy
love
,
I
charge
thee
.
I
do
not
know
.
Friends
all
but
now
,
even
now
,
In
quarter
and
in
terms
like
bride
and
groom
Divesting
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
!
ACT 2. SC. 3
How
comes
it
,
Michael
,
you
are
thus
forgot
?
I
pray
you
pardon
me
;
I
cannot
speak
.
Worthy
Montano
,
you
were
wont
be
civil
.
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
.
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
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
.
Now
,
by
heaven
,
My
blood
begins
my
safer
guides
to
rule
,
And
passion
,
having
my
best
judgment
collied
,
Assays
to
lead
the
way
.
Zounds
,
if
I
stir
,
Or
do
but
lift
this
arm
,
the
best
of
you
Shall
sink
in
my
rebuke
.
Give
me
to
know
How
this
foul
rout
began
,
who
set
it
on
;
And
he
that
is
approved
in
this
offense
,
Though
he
had
twinned
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
?
’Tis
monstrous
.
Iago
,
who
began
’t
?
ACT 2. SC. 3
If
partially
affined
,
or
leagued
in
office
,
Thou
dost
deliver
more
or
less
than
truth
,
Thou
art
no
soldier
.
Touch
me
not
so
near
.
I
had
rather
have
this
tongue
cut
from
my
mouth
Than
it
should
do
offense
to
Michael
Cassio
.
Yet
I
persuade
myself
,
to
speak
the
truth
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
Pointing
to
Montano
.
Steps
in
to
Cassio
and
entreats
his
pause
.
Myself
the
crying
fellow
did
pursue
,
Lest
by
his
clamor
—
as
it
so
fell
out
—
The
town
might
fall
in
fright
.
He
,
swift
of
foot
,
Outran
my
purpose
,
and
I
returned
the
rather
For
that
I
heard
the
clink
and
fall
of
swords
And
Cassio
high
in
oath
,
which
till
tonight
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
.
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
.
I
know
,
Iago
,
Thy
honesty
and
love
doth
mince
this
matter
,
Making
it
light
to
Cassio
.
—
Cassio
,
I
love
thee
,
But
nevermore
be
officer
of
mine
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Enter
Desdemona
attended
.
Look
if
my
gentle
love
be
not
raised
up
!
I’ll
make
thee
an
example
.
What
is
the
matter
,
dear
?
All’s
well
now
,
sweeting
.
Come
away
to
bed
.
To
Montano
.
Sir
,
for
your
hurts
,
Myself
will
be
your
surgeon
.
—
Lead
him
off
.
Montano
is
led
off
.
Iago
,
look
with
care
about
the
town
And
silence
those
whom
this
vile
brawl
distracted
.
—
Come
,
Desdemona
.
’Tis
the
soldier’s
life
To
have
their
balmy
slumbers
waked
with
strife
.
All
but
Iago
and
Cassio
exit
.
What
,
are
you
hurt
,
lieutenant
?
Ay
,
past
all
surgery
.
Marry
,
God
forbid
!
Reputation
,
reputation
,
reputation
!
O
,
I
have
lost
my
reputation
!
I
have
lost
the
immortal
part
of
myself
,
and
what
remains
is
bestial
.
My
reputation
,
Iago
,
my
reputation
!
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
imposition
,
oft
got
without
merit
and
lost
without
deserving
.
You
have
lost
no
reputation
at
all
,
unless
you
repute
yourself
such
a
loser
.
What
,
man
,
there
are
ways
to
recover
the
General
again
!
You
are
but
now
cast
in
his
mood
—
a
punishment
more
in
policy
than
in
malice
,
even
so
as
one
would
beat
his
offenseless
dog
to
affright
an
imperious
lion
.
Sue
to
him
again
and
he’s
yours
.
I
will
rather
sue
to
be
despised
than
to
deceive
so
good
a
commander
with
so
slight
,
so
drunken
,
ACT 2. SC. 3
and
so
indiscreet
an
officer
.
Drunk
?
And
speak
parrot
?
And
squabble
?
Swagger
?
Swear
?
And
discourse
fustian
with
one’s
own
shadow
?
O
thou
invisible
spirit
of
wine
,
if
thou
hast
no
name
to
be
known
by
,
let
us
call
thee
devil
!
What
was
he
that
you
followed
with
your
sword
?
What
had
he
done
to
you
?
I
know
not
.
Is
’t
possible
?
I
remember
a
mass
of
things
,
but
nothing
distinctly
;
a
quarrel
,
but
nothing
wherefore
.
O
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
beasts
!
Why
,
but
you
are
now
well
enough
.
How
came
you
thus
recovered
?
It
hath
pleased
the
devil
drunkenness
to
give
place
to
the
devil
wrath
.
One
unperfectness
shows
me
another
,
to
make
me
frankly
despise
myself
.
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
so
befallen
.
But
since
it
is
as
it
is
,
mend
it
for
your
own
good
.
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
.
Come
,
come
,
good
wine
is
a
good
familiar
creature
,
if
it
be
well
used
.
Exclaim
no
more
against
it
.
And
,
good
lieutenant
,
I
think
you
think
I
love
you
.
I
have
well
approved
it
,
sir
.
—
I
drunk
!
You
or
any
man
living
may
be
drunk
at
a
time
,
man
.
I’ll
tell
you
what
you
shall
do
.
Our
general’s
ACT 2. SC. 3
wife
is
now
the
general
:
I
may
say
so
in
this
respect
,
for
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
,
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
.
You
advise
me
well
.
I
protest
,
in
the
sincerity
of
love
and
honest
kindness
.
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
.
You
are
in
the
right
.
Good
night
,
lieutenant
.
I
must
to
the
watch
.
Good
night
,
honest
Iago
.
Cassio
exits
.
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
Th’
inclining
Desdemona
to
subdue
In
any
honest
suit
.
She’s
framed
as
fruitful
As
the
free
elements
.
And
then
for
her
To
win
the
Moor
—
were
’t
to
renounce
his
baptism
,
All
seals
and
symbols
of
redeemèd
sin
—
His
soul
is
so
enfettered
to
her
love
That
she
may
make
,
unmake
,
do
what
she
list
,
Even
as
her
appetite
shall
play
the
god
With
his
weak
function
.
How
am
I
then
a
villain
ACT 2. SC. 3
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
fortune
,
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
.
Enter
Roderigo
.
How
now
,
Roderigo
?
I
do
follow
here
in
the
chase
,
not
like
a
hound
that
hunts
,
but
one
that
fills
up
the
cry
.
My
money
is
almost
spent
,
I
have
been
tonight
exceedingly
well
cudgeled
,
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
.
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
Dost
’t
not
go
well
?
Cassio
hath
beaten
thee
,
And
thou
,
by
that
small
hurt
,
hast
cashiered
Cassio
.
Though
other
things
grow
fair
against
the
sun
,
Yet
fruits
that
blossom
first
will
first
be
ripe
.
Content
thyself
awhile
.
By
th’
Mass
,
’tis
morning
!
Pleasure
and
action
make
the
hours
seem
short
.
Retire
thee
;
go
where
thou
art
billeted
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Away
,
I
say
!
Thou
shalt
know
more
hereafter
.
Nay
,
get
thee
gone
.
Roderigo
exits
.
Two
things
are
to
be
done
.
My
wife
must
move
for
Cassio
to
her
mistress
.
I’ll
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
.
He
exits
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
Enter
Cassio
with
Musicians
.
Masters
,
play
here
(
I
will
content
your
pains
)
Something
that’s
brief
;
and
bid
Good
morrow
,
general
.
They
play
.
Enter
the
Clown
.
Why
masters
,
have
your
instruments
been
in
Naples
,
that
they
speak
i’
th’
nose
thus
?
How
,
sir
,
how
?
Are
these
,
I
pray
you
,
wind
instruments
?
Ay
,
marry
,
are
they
,
sir
.
O
,
thereby
hangs
a
tail
.
Whereby
hangs
a
tale
,
sir
?
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
.
Well
,
sir
,
we
will
not
.
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
.
We
have
none
such
,
sir
.
Then
put
up
your
pipes
in
your
bag
,
for
I’ll
away
.
Go
,
vanish
into
air
,
away
!
ACT 3. SC. 1
Musicians
exit
.
Dost
thou
hear
,
mine
honest
friend
?
No
,
I
hear
not
your
honest
friend
.
I
hear
you
.
Prithee
,
keep
up
thy
quillets
.
Giving
money
.
There’s
a
poor
piece
of
gold
for
thee
.
If
the
gentlewoman
that
attends
the
General’s
wife
be
stirring
,
tell
her
there’s
one
Cassio
entreats
her
a
little
favor
of
speech
.
Wilt
thou
do
this
?
She
is
stirring
,
sir
.
If
she
will
stir
hither
,
I
shall
seem
to
notify
unto
her
.
Do
,
good
my
friend
.
Clown
exits
.
Enter
Iago
.
In
happy
time
,
Iago
.
You
have
not
been
abed
,
then
?
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
.
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
.
I
humbly
thank
you
for
’t
.
Iago
exits
.
I
never
knew
A
Florentine
more
kind
and
honest
.
Enter
Emilia
.
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
ACT 3. SC. 2
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
To
take
the
safest
occasion
by
the
front
To
bring
you
in
again
.
Yet
I
beseech
you
,
If
you
think
fit
,
or
that
it
may
be
done
,
Give
me
advantage
of
some
brief
discourse
With
Desdemon
alone
.
Pray
you
come
in
.
I
will
bestow
you
where
you
shall
have
time
To
speak
your
bosom
freely
.
I
am
much
bound
to
you
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Othello
,
Iago
,
and
Gentlemen
.
These
letters
give
,
Iago
,
to
the
pilot
And
by
him
do
my
duties
to
the
Senate
.
He
gives
Iago
some
papers
.
That
done
,
I
will
be
walking
on
the
works
.
Repair
there
to
me
.
Well
,
my
good
lord
,
I’ll
do
’t
.
This
fortification
,
gentlemen
,
shall
we
see
’t
?
We
wait
upon
your
Lordship
.
They
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
Desdemona
,
Cassio
,
and
Emilia
.
Be
thou
assured
,
good
Cassio
,
I
will
do
All
my
abilities
in
thy
behalf
.
Good
madam
,
do
.
I
warrant
it
grieves
my
husband
As
if
the
cause
were
his
.
O
,
that’s
an
honest
fellow
!
Do
not
doubt
,
Cassio
,
But
I
will
have
my
lord
and
you
again
As
friendly
as
you
were
.
Bounteous
madam
,
Whatever
shall
become
of
Michael
Cassio
,
He’s
never
anything
but
your
true
servant
.
I
know
’t
.
I
thank
you
.
You
do
love
my
lord
;
You
have
known
him
long
;
and
be
you
well
assured
He
shall
in
strangeness
stand
no
farther
off
Than
in
a
politic
distance
.
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
.
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
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
everything
he
does
With
Cassio’s
suit
.
Therefore
be
merry
,
Cassio
,
ACT 3. SC. 3
For
thy
solicitor
shall
rather
die
Than
give
thy
cause
away
.
Enter
Othello
and
Iago
.
Madam
,
here
comes
my
lord
.
Madam
,
I’ll
take
my
leave
.
Why
,
stay
,
and
hear
me
speak
.
Madam
,
not
now
.
I
am
very
ill
at
ease
,
Unfit
for
mine
own
purposes
.
Well
,
do
your
discretion
.
Cassio
exits
.
Ha
,
I
like
not
that
.
What
dost
thou
say
?
Nothing
,
my
lord
;
or
if
—
I
know
not
what
.
Was
not
that
Cassio
parted
from
my
wife
?
Cassio
,
my
lord
?
No
,
sure
,
I
cannot
think
it
That
he
would
steal
away
so
guiltylike
,
Seeing
your
coming
.
I
do
believe
’twas
he
.
How
now
,
my
lord
?
I
have
been
talking
with
a
suitor
here
,
A
man
that
languishes
in
your
displeasure
.
Who
is
’t
you
mean
?
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
judgment
in
an
honest
face
.
I
prithee
call
him
back
.
Went
he
hence
now
?
ACT 3. SC. 3
Yes
,
faith
,
so
humbled
That
he
hath
left
part
of
his
grief
with
me
To
suffer
with
him
.
Good
love
,
call
him
back
.
Not
now
,
sweet
Desdemon
.
Some
other
time
.
But
shall
’t
be
shortly
?
The
sooner
,
sweet
,
for
you
.
Shall
’t
be
tonight
at
supper
?
No
,
not
tonight
.
Tomorrow
dinner
,
then
?
I
shall
not
dine
at
home
;
I
meet
the
captains
at
the
citadel
.
Why
then
tomorrow
night
,
or
Tuesday
morn
,
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
example
Out
of
her
best
—
is
not
almost
a
fault
T’
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
mamm’ring
on
?
What
?
Michael
Cassio
,
That
came
a-wooing
with
you
,
and
so
many
a
time
,
When
I
have
spoke
of
you
dispraisingly
,
Hath
ta’en
your
part
—
to
have
so
much
to
do
To
bring
him
in
!
By
’r
Lady
,
I
could
do
much
—
Prithee
,
no
more
.
Let
him
come
when
he
will
;
I
will
deny
thee
nothing
.
Why
,
this
is
not
a
boon
!
’Tis
as
I
should
entreat
you
wear
your
gloves
,
Or
feed
on
nourishing
dishes
,
or
keep
you
warm
,
ACT 3. SC. 3
Or
sue
to
you
to
do
a
peculiar
profit
To
your
own
person
.
Nay
,
when
I
have
a
suit
Wherein
I
mean
to
touch
your
love
indeed
,
It
shall
be
full
of
poise
and
difficult
weight
,
And
fearful
to
be
granted
.
I
will
deny
thee
nothing
!
Whereon
,
I
do
beseech
thee
,
grant
me
this
,
To
leave
me
but
a
little
to
myself
.
Shall
I
deny
you
?
No
.
Farewell
,
my
lord
.
Farewell
,
my
Desdemona
.
I’ll
come
to
thee
straight
.
Emilia
,
come
.
—
Be
as
your
fancies
teach
you
.
Whate’er
you
be
,
I
am
obedient
.
Desdemona
and
Emilia
exit
.
Excellent
wretch
!
Perdition
catch
my
soul
But
I
do
love
thee
!
And
when
I
love
thee
not
,
Chaos
is
come
again
.
My
noble
lord
—
What
dost
thou
say
,
Iago
?
Did
Michael
Cassio
,
When
you
wooed
my
lady
,
know
of
your
love
?
He
did
,
from
first
to
last
.
Why
dost
thou
ask
?
But
for
a
satisfaction
of
my
thought
,
No
further
harm
.
Why
of
thy
thought
,
Iago
?
I
did
not
think
he
had
been
acquainted
with
her
.
O
yes
,
and
went
between
us
very
oft
.
Indeed
?
ACT 3. SC. 3
Indeed
?
Ay
,
indeed
!
Discern’st
thou
aught
in
that
?
Is
he
not
honest
?
Honest
,
my
lord
?
Honest
—
ay
,
honest
.
My
lord
,
for
aught
I
know
.
What
dost
thou
think
?
Think
,
my
lord
?
Think
,
my
lord
?
By
heaven
,
thou
echo’st
me
As
if
there
were
some
monster
in
thy
thought
Too
hideous
to
be
shown
.
Thou
dost
mean
something
.
I
heard
thee
say
even
now
,
thou
lik’st
not
that
,
When
Cassio
left
my
wife
.
What
didst
not
like
?
And
when
I
told
thee
he
was
of
my
counsel
In
my
whole
course
of
wooing
,
thou
cried’st
Indeed
?
And
didst
contract
and
purse
thy
brow
together
As
if
thou
then
hadst
shut
up
in
thy
brain
Some
horrible
conceit
.
If
thou
dost
love
me
,
Show
me
thy
thought
.
My
lord
,
you
know
I
love
you
.
I
think
thou
dost
;
And
for
I
know
thou
’rt
full
of
love
and
honesty
And
weigh’st
thy
words
before
thou
giv’st
them
breath
,
Therefore
these
stops
of
thine
fright
me
the
more
.
For
such
things
in
a
false
,
disloyal
knave
Are
tricks
of
custom
;
but
in
a
man
that’s
just
,
They’re
close
dilations
working
from
the
heart
That
passion
cannot
rule
.
For
Michael
Cassio
,
I
dare
be
sworn
I
think
that
he
is
honest
.
I
think
so
too
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Men
should
be
what
they
seem
;
Or
those
that
be
not
,
would
they
might
seem
none
!
Certain
,
men
should
be
what
they
seem
.
Why
then
,
I
think
Cassio’s
an
honest
man
.
Nay
,
yet
there’s
more
in
this
.
I
prithee
speak
to
me
as
to
thy
thinkings
,
As
thou
dost
ruminate
,
and
give
thy
worst
of
thoughts
The
worst
of
words
.
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
that
breast
so
pure
But
some
uncleanly
apprehensions
Keep
leets
and
law
days
and
in
sessions
sit
With
meditations
lawful
?
Thou
dost
conspire
against
thy
friend
,
Iago
,
If
thou
but
think’st
him
wronged
and
mak’st
his
ear
A
stranger
to
thy
thoughts
.
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
From
one
that
so
imperfectly
conceits
Would
take
no
notice
,
nor
build
yourself
a
trouble
Out
of
his
scattering
and
unsure
observance
.
It
were
not
for
your
quiet
nor
your
good
,
Nor
for
my
manhood
,
honesty
,
and
wisdom
,
To
let
you
know
my
thoughts
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
What
dost
thou
mean
?
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
Robs
me
of
that
which
not
enriches
him
And
makes
me
poor
indeed
.
By
heaven
,
I’ll
know
thy
thoughts
.
You
cannot
,
if
my
heart
were
in
your
hand
,
Nor
shall
not
,
whilst
’tis
in
my
custody
.
Ha
?
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
damnèd
minutes
tells
he
o’er
Who
dotes
,
yet
doubts
;
suspects
,
yet
strongly
loves
!
O
misery
!
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
God
,
the
souls
of
all
my
tribe
defend
From
jealousy
!
Why
,
why
is
this
?
Think’st
thou
I’d
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
When
I
shall
turn
the
business
of
my
soul
ACT 3. SC. 3
To
such
exsufflicate
and
blown
surmises
,
Matching
thy
inference
.
’Tis
not
to
make
me
jealous
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
;
And
on
the
proof
,
there
is
no
more
but
this
:
Away
at
once
with
love
or
jealousy
.
I
am
glad
of
this
,
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
eyes
thus
,
not
jealous
nor
secure
.
I
would
not
have
your
free
and
noble
nature
,
Out
of
self-bounty
,
be
abused
.
Look
to
’t
.
I
know
our
country
disposition
well
.
In
Venice
they
do
let
God
see
the
pranks
They
dare
not
show
their
husbands
.
Their
best
conscience
Is
not
to
leave
’t
undone
,
but
keep
’t
unknown
.
Dost
thou
say
so
?
She
did
deceive
her
father
,
marrying
you
,
And
when
she
seemed
to
shake
and
fear
your
looks
,
She
loved
them
most
.
And
so
she
did
.
Why
,
go
to
,
then
!
She
that
,
so
young
,
could
give
out
such
a
seeming
,
To
seel
her
father’s
eyes
up
close
as
oak
,
He
thought
’twas
witchcraft
!
But
I
am
much
to
blame
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
I
humbly
do
beseech
you
of
your
pardon
For
too
much
loving
you
.
I
am
bound
to
thee
forever
.
I
see
this
hath
a
little
dashed
your
spirits
.
Not
a
jot
,
not
a
jot
.
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
.
I
will
not
.
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
.
No
,
not
much
moved
.
I
do
not
think
but
Desdemona’s
honest
.
Long
live
she
so
!
And
long
live
you
to
think
so
!
And
yet
,
how
nature
erring
from
itself
—
Ay
,
there’s
the
point
.
As
,
to
be
bold
with
you
,
Not
to
affect
many
proposèd
matches
Of
her
own
clime
,
complexion
,
and
degree
,
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
judgment
,
May
fall
to
match
you
with
her
country
forms
And
happily
repent
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Farewell
,
farewell
!
If
more
thou
dost
perceive
,
let
me
know
more
.
Set
on
thy
wife
to
observe
.
Leave
me
,
Iago
.
,
beginning
to
exit
My
lord
,
I
take
my
leave
.
Why
did
I
marry
?
This
honest
creature
doubtless
Sees
and
knows
more
,
much
more
,
than
he
unfolds
.
,
returning
My
lord
,
I
would
I
might
entreat
your
Honor
To
scan
this
thing
no
farther
.
Leave
it
to
time
.
Although
’tis
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
meantime
,
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
Honor
.
Fear
not
my
government
.
I
once
more
take
my
leave
.
He
exits
.
This
fellow’s
of
exceeding
honesty
,
And
knows
all
qualities
with
a
learnèd
spirit
Of
human
dealings
.
If
I
do
prove
her
haggard
,
Though
that
her
jesses
were
my
dear
heartstrings
,
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
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
.
O
curse
of
marriage
,
That
we
can
call
these
delicate
creatures
ours
And
not
their
appetites
!
I
had
rather
be
a
toad
ACT 3. SC. 3
And
live
upon
the
vapor
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
forkèd
plague
is
fated
to
us
When
we
do
quicken
.
Look
where
she
comes
.
Enter
Desdemona
and
Emilia
.
If
she
be
false
,
heaven
mocks
itself
!
I’ll
not
believe
’t
.
How
now
,
my
dear
Othello
?
Your
dinner
,
and
the
generous
islanders
By
you
invited
,
do
attend
your
presence
.
I
am
to
blame
.
Why
do
you
speak
so
faintly
?
Are
you
not
well
?
I
have
a
pain
upon
my
forehead
,
here
.
Faith
,
that’s
with
watching
.
’Twill
away
again
.
Let
me
but
bind
it
hard
;
within
this
hour
It
will
be
well
.
Your
napkin
is
too
little
.
Let
it
alone
.
The
handkerchief
falls
,
unnoticed
.
Come
,
I’ll
go
in
with
you
.
I
am
very
sorry
that
you
are
not
well
.
Othello
and
Desdemona
exit
.
,
picking
up
the
handkerchief
I
am
glad
I
have
found
this
napkin
.
This
was
her
first
remembrance
from
the
Moor
.
My
wayward
husband
hath
a
hundred
times
Wooed
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
ACT 3. SC. 3
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
.
Enter
Iago
.
How
now
?
What
do
you
here
alone
?
Do
not
you
chide
.
I
have
a
thing
for
you
.
You
have
a
thing
for
me
?
It
is
a
common
thing
—
Ha
?
To
have
a
foolish
wife
.
O
,
is
that
all
?
What
will
you
give
me
now
For
that
same
handkerchief
?
What
handkerchief
?
What
handkerchief
?
Why
,
that
the
Moor
first
gave
to
Desdemona
,
That
which
so
often
you
did
bid
me
steal
.
Hast
stol’n
it
from
her
?
No
,
faith
,
she
let
it
drop
by
negligence
,
And
to
th’
advantage
I
,
being
here
,
took
’t
up
.
Look
,
here
’tis
.
A
good
wench
!
Give
it
me
.
What
will
you
do
with
’t
,
that
you
have
been
so
earnest
To
have
me
filch
it
?
,
snatching
it
Why
,
what
is
that
to
you
?
If
it
be
not
for
some
purpose
of
import
,
Give
’t
me
again
.
Poor
lady
,
she’ll
run
mad
When
she
shall
lack
it
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Be
not
acknown
on
’t
.
I
have
use
for
it
.
Go
,
leave
me
.
Emilia
exits
.
I
will
in
Cassio’s
lodging
lose
this
napkin
And
let
him
find
it
.
Trifles
light
as
air
Are
to
the
jealous
confirmations
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
sulfur
.
Enter
Othello
.
I
did
say
so
.
Look
where
he
comes
.
Not
poppy
nor
mandragora
Nor
all
the
drowsy
syrups
of
the
world
Shall
ever
medicine
thee
to
that
sweet
sleep
Which
thou
owedst
yesterday
.
Ha
,
ha
,
false
to
me
?
Why
,
how
now
,
general
?
No
more
of
that
!
Avaunt
!
Begone
!
Thou
hast
set
me
on
the
rack
.
I
swear
’tis
better
to
be
much
abused
Than
but
to
know
’t
a
little
.
How
now
,
my
lord
?
What
sense
had
I
of
her
stol’n
hours
of
lust
?
I
saw
’t
not
,
thought
it
not
;
it
harmed
not
me
.
I
slept
the
next
night
well
,
fed
well
,
was
free
and
merry
.
I
found
not
Cassio’s
kisses
on
her
lips
.
He
that
is
robbed
,
not
wanting
what
is
stol’n
,
Let
him
not
know
’t
,
and
he’s
not
robbed
at
all
.
I
am
sorry
to
hear
this
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
I
had
been
happy
if
the
general
camp
,
Pioners
and
all
,
had
tasted
her
sweet
body
,
So
I
had
nothing
known
.
O
,
now
,
forever
Farewell
the
tranquil
mind
!
Farewell
content
!
Farewell
the
plumèd
troops
and
the
big
wars
That
makes
ambition
virtue
!
O
,
farewell
!
Farewell
the
neighing
steed
and
the
shrill
trump
,
The
spirit-stirring
drum
,
th’
ear-piercing
fife
,
The
royal
banner
,
and
all
quality
,
Pride
,
pomp
,
and
circumstance
of
glorious
war
!
And
O
you
mortal
engines
,
whose
rude
throats
Th’
immortal
Jove’s
dread
clamors
counterfeit
,
Farewell
!
Othello’s
occupation’s
gone
!
Is
’t
possible
,
my
lord
?
Villain
,
be
sure
thou
prove
my
love
a
whore
!
Be
sure
of
it
.
Give
me
the
ocular
proof
,
Or
,
by
the
worth
of
mine
eternal
soul
,
Thou
hadst
been
better
have
been
born
a
dog
Than
answer
my
waked
wrath
.
Is
’t
come
to
this
?
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
!
My
noble
lord
—
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
earth
amazed
;
For
nothing
canst
thou
to
damnation
add
Greater
than
that
.
O
grace
!
O
heaven
forgive
me
!
Are
you
a
man
?
Have
you
a
soul
or
sense
?
ACT 3. SC. 3
God
b’
wi’
you
.
Take
mine
office
.
—
O
wretched
fool
,
That
liv’st
to
make
thine
honesty
a
vice
!
—
O
monstrous
world
!
Take
note
,
take
note
,
O
world
:
To
be
direct
and
honest
is
not
safe
.
—
I
thank
you
for
this
profit
,
and
from
hence
I’ll
love
no
friend
,
sith
love
breeds
such
offense
.
Nay
,
stay
.
Thou
shouldst
be
honest
.
I
should
be
wise
;
for
honesty’s
a
fool
And
loses
that
it
works
for
.
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
As
Dian’s
visage
,
is
now
begrimed
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
!
I
see
you
are
eaten
up
with
passion
.
I
do
repent
me
that
I
put
it
to
you
.
You
would
be
satisfied
?
Would
?
Nay
,
and
I
will
.
And
may
;
but
how
?
How
satisfied
,
my
lord
?
Would
you
,
the
supervisor
,
grossly
gape
on
,
Behold
her
topped
?
Death
and
damnation
!
O
!
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
?
What
shall
I
say
?
Where’s
satisfaction
?
It
is
impossible
you
should
see
this
,
Were
they
as
prime
as
goats
,
as
hot
as
monkeys
,
ACT 3. SC. 3
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
might
have
’t
.
Give
me
a
living
reason
she’s
disloyal
.
I
do
not
like
the
office
,
But
sith
I
am
entered
in
this
cause
so
far
,
Pricked
to
’t
by
foolish
honesty
and
love
,
I
will
go
on
.
I
lay
with
Cassio
lately
,
And
being
troubled
with
a
raging
tooth
I
could
not
sleep
.
There
are
a
kind
of
men
So
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
.
And
then
,
sir
,
would
he
gripe
and
wring
my
hand
,
Cry
O
sweet
creature
!
then
kiss
me
hard
,
As
if
he
plucked
up
kisses
by
the
roots
That
grew
upon
my
lips
;
then
laid
his
leg
O’er
my
thigh
,
and
sighed
,
and
kissed
,
and
then
Cried
Cursèd
fate
that
gave
thee
to
the
Moor
!
O
monstrous
!
Monstrous
!
Nay
,
this
was
but
his
dream
.
But
this
denoted
a
foregone
conclusion
.
’Tis
a
shrewd
doubt
,
though
it
be
but
a
dream
.
And
this
may
help
to
thicken
other
proofs
That
do
demonstrate
thinly
.
I’ll
tear
her
all
to
pieces
.
Nay
,
but
be
wise
.
Yet
we
see
nothing
done
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
She
may
be
honest
yet
.
Tell
me
but
this
:
Have
you
not
sometimes
seen
a
handkerchief
Spotted
with
strawberries
in
your
wife’s
hand
?
I
gave
her
such
a
one
.
’Twas
my
first
gift
.
I
know
not
that
;
but
such
a
handkerchief
—
I
am
sure
it
was
your
wife’s
—
did
I
today
See
Cassio
wipe
his
beard
with
.
If
it
be
that
—
If
it
be
that
,
or
any
that
was
hers
,
It
speaks
against
her
with
the
other
proofs
.
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
the
hollow
hell
!
Yield
up
,
O
love
,
thy
crown
and
hearted
throne
To
tyrannous
hate
!
Swell
,
bosom
,
with
thy
fraught
,
For
’tis
of
aspics’
tongues
!
Yet
be
content
.
O
,
blood
,
blood
,
blood
!
Patience
,
I
say
.
Your
mind
perhaps
may
change
.
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
.
He
kneels
.
Now
by
yond
marble
heaven
,
ACT 3. SC. 4
In
the
due
reverence
of
a
sacred
vow
,
I
here
engage
my
words
.
Do
not
rise
yet
.
Iago
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
wronged
Othello’s
service
!
Let
him
command
,
And
to
obey
shall
be
in
me
remorse
,
What
bloody
business
ever
.
They
rise
.
I
greet
thy
love
Not
with
vain
thanks
but
with
acceptance
bounteous
,
And
will
upon
the
instant
put
thee
to
’t
.
Within
these
three
days
let
me
hear
thee
say
That
Cassio’s
not
alive
.
My
friend
is
dead
.
’Tis
done
at
your
request
.
But
let
her
live
.
Damn
her
,
lewd
minx
!
O
,
damn
her
,
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
.
I
am
your
own
forever
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
Desdemona
,
Emilia
,
and
Clown
.
Do
you
know
,
sirrah
,
where
Lieutenant
Cassio
lies
?
I
dare
not
say
he
lies
anywhere
.
Why
,
man
?
He’s
a
soldier
,
and
for
me
to
say
a
soldier
lies
,
’tis
stabbing
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Go
to
!
Where
lodges
he
?
To
tell
you
where
he
lodges
is
to
tell
you
where
I
lie
.
Can
anything
be
made
of
this
?
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
.
Can
you
inquire
him
out
,
and
be
edified
by
report
?
I
will
catechize
the
world
for
him
—
that
is
,
make
questions
,
and
by
them
answer
.
Seek
him
,
bid
him
come
hither
.
Tell
him
I
have
moved
my
lord
on
his
behalf
and
hope
all
will
be
well
.
To
do
this
is
within
the
compass
of
man’s
wit
,
and
therefore
I
will
attempt
the
doing
it
.
Clown
exits
.
Where
should
I
lose
that
handkerchief
,
Emilia
?
I
know
not
,
madam
.
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
.
Is
he
not
jealous
?
Who
,
he
?
I
think
the
sun
where
he
was
born
Drew
all
such
humors
from
him
.
Look
where
he
comes
.
Enter
Othello
.
I
will
not
leave
him
now
till
Cassio
Be
called
to
him
.
—
How
is
’t
with
you
,
my
lord
?
ACT 3. SC. 4
Well
,
my
good
lady
.
Aside
.
O
,
hardness
to
dissemble
!
—
How
do
you
,
Desdemona
?
Well
,
my
good
lord
.
Give
me
your
hand
.
He
takes
her
hand
.
This
hand
is
moist
,
my
lady
.
It
yet
has
felt
no
age
nor
known
no
sorrow
.
This
argues
fruitfulness
and
liberal
heart
.
Hot
,
hot
,
and
moist
.
This
hand
of
yours
requires
A
sequester
from
liberty
,
fasting
and
prayer
,
Much
castigation
,
exercise
devout
;
For
here’s
a
young
and
sweating
devil
here
That
commonly
rebels
.
’Tis
a
good
hand
,
A
frank
one
.
You
may
indeed
say
so
,
For
’twas
that
hand
that
gave
away
my
heart
.
A
liberal
hand
!
The
hearts
of
old
gave
hands
,
But
our
new
heraldry
is
hands
,
not
hearts
.
I
cannot
speak
of
this
.
Come
now
,
your
promise
.
What
promise
,
chuck
?
I
have
sent
to
bid
Cassio
come
speak
with
you
.
I
have
a
salt
and
sorry
rheum
offends
me
.
Lend
me
thy
handkerchief
.
Here
,
my
lord
.
That
which
I
gave
you
.
I
have
it
not
about
me
.
Not
?
ACT 3. SC. 4
No
,
faith
,
my
lord
.
That’s
a
fault
.
That
handkerchief
Did
an
Egyptian
to
my
mother
give
.
She
was
a
charmer
,
and
could
almost
read
The
thoughts
of
people
.
She
told
her
,
while
she
kept
it
,
’Twould
make
her
amiable
and
subdue
my
father
Entirely
to
her
love
.
But
if
she
lost
it
,
Or
made
a
gift
of
it
,
my
father’s
eye
Should
hold
her
loathèd
,
and
his
spirits
should
hunt
After
new
fancies
.
She
,
dying
,
gave
it
me
,
And
bid
me
,
when
my
fate
would
have
me
wived
,
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
.
Is
’t
possible
?
’Tis
true
.
There’s
magic
in
the
web
of
it
.
A
sybil
that
had
numbered
in
the
world
The
sun
to
course
two
hundred
compasses
,
In
her
prophetic
fury
sewed
the
work
.
The
worms
were
hallowed
that
did
breed
the
silk
,
And
it
was
dyed
in
mummy
,
which
the
skillful
Conserved
of
maidens’
hearts
.
I’
faith
,
is
’t
true
?
Most
veritable
.
Therefore
,
look
to
’t
well
.
Then
would
to
God
that
I
had
never
seen
’t
!
Ha
?
Wherefore
?
Why
do
you
speak
so
startingly
and
rash
?
Is
’t
lost
?
Is
’t
gone
?
Speak
,
is
’t
out
o’
th’
way
?
Heaven
bless
us
!
Say
you
?
ACT 3. SC. 4
It
is
not
lost
,
but
what
an
if
it
were
?
How
?
I
say
it
is
not
lost
.
Fetch
’t
.
Let
me
see
’t
!
Why
,
so
I
can
.
But
I
will
not
now
.
This
is
a
trick
to
put
me
from
my
suit
.
Pray
you
,
let
Cassio
be
received
again
.
Fetch
me
the
handkerchief
!
Aside
.
My
mind
misgives
.
Come
,
come
.
You’ll
never
meet
a
more
sufficient
man
.
The
handkerchief
!
I
pray
,
talk
me
of
Cassio
.
The
handkerchief
!
A
man
that
all
his
time
Hath
founded
his
good
fortunes
on
your
love
;
Shared
dangers
with
you
—
The
handkerchief
!
I’
faith
,
you
are
to
blame
.
Zounds
!
Othello
exits
.
Is
not
this
man
jealous
?
I
ne’er
saw
this
before
.
Sure
,
there’s
some
wonder
in
this
handkerchief
!
I
am
most
unhappy
in
the
loss
of
it
.
’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
.
Enter
Iago
and
Cassio
.
Look
you
—
Cassio
and
my
husband
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
,
to
Cassio
There
is
no
other
way
;
’tis
she
must
do
’t
,
And
,
lo
,
the
happiness
!
Go
and
importune
her
.
How
now
,
good
Cassio
,
what’s
the
news
with
you
?
Madam
,
my
former
suit
.
I
do
beseech
you
That
by
your
virtuous
means
I
may
again
Exist
,
and
be
a
member
of
his
love
Whom
I
with
all
the
office
of
my
heart
Entirely
honor
.
I
would
not
be
delayed
.
If
my
offense
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
,
And
shut
myself
up
in
some
other
course
To
fortune’s
alms
.
Alas
,
thrice-gentle
Cassio
,
My
advocation
is
not
now
in
tune
.
My
lord
is
not
my
lord
;
nor
should
I
know
him
Were
he
in
favor
as
in
humor
altered
.
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
Than
for
myself
I
dare
.
Let
that
suffice
you
.
Is
my
lord
angry
?
He
went
hence
but
now
,
And
certainly
in
strange
unquietness
.
Can
he
be
angry
?
I
have
seen
the
cannon
ACT 3. SC. 4
When
it
hath
blown
his
ranks
into
the
air
And
,
like
the
devil
,
from
his
very
arm
Puffed
his
own
brother
—
and
is
he
angry
?
Something
of
moment
then
.
I
will
go
meet
him
.
There’s
matter
in
’t
indeed
if
he
be
angry
.
I
prithee
do
so
.
He
exits
.
Something
,
sure
,
of
state
,
Either
from
Venice
,
or
some
unhatched
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
endues
Our
other
healthful
members
even
to
a
sense
Of
pain
.
Nay
,
we
must
think
men
are
not
gods
,
Nor
of
them
look
for
such
observancy
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
suborned
the
witness
,
And
he’s
indicted
falsely
.
Pray
heaven
it
be
State
matters
,
as
you
think
,
and
no
conception
Nor
no
jealous
toy
concerning
you
.
Alas
the
day
,
I
never
gave
him
cause
!
But
jealous
souls
will
not
be
answered
so
.
They
are
not
ever
jealous
for
the
cause
,
But
jealous
for
they’re
jealous
.
It
is
a
monster
Begot
upon
itself
,
born
on
itself
.
Heaven
keep
that
monster
from
Othello’s
mind
!
Lady
,
amen
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
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
.
I
humbly
thank
your
Ladyship
.
Desdemona
and
Emilia
exit
.
Enter
Bianca
.
’Save
you
,
friend
Cassio
!
What
make
you
from
home
?
How
is
’t
with
you
,
my
most
fair
Bianca
?
I’
faith
,
sweet
love
,
I
was
coming
to
your
house
.
And
I
was
going
to
your
lodging
,
Cassio
.
What
,
keep
a
week
away
?
Seven
days
and
nights
,
Eightscore
eight
hours
,
and
lovers’
absent
hours
More
tedious
than
the
dial
eightscore
times
?
O
weary
reck’ning
!
Pardon
me
,
Bianca
.
I
have
this
while
with
leaden
thoughts
been
pressed
,
But
I
shall
in
a
more
continuate
time
Strike
off
this
score
of
absence
.
Sweet
Bianca
,
Giving
her
Desdemona’s
handkerchief
.
Take
me
this
work
out
.
O
,
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
.
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
,
by
my
faith
,
Bianca
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Why
,
whose
is
it
?
I
know
not
neither
.
I
found
it
in
my
chamber
.
I
like
the
work
well
.
Ere
it
be
demanded
,
As
like
enough
it
will
,
I
would
have
it
copied
.
Take
it
,
and
do
’t
,
and
leave
me
for
this
time
.
Leave
you
?
Wherefore
?
I
do
attend
here
on
the
General
,
And
think
it
no
addition
,
nor
my
wish
,
To
have
him
see
me
womaned
.
Why
,
I
pray
you
?
Not
that
I
love
you
not
.
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
.
’Tis
but
a
little
way
that
I
can
bring
you
,
For
I
attend
here
.
But
I’ll
see
you
soon
.
’Tis
very
good
.
I
must
be
circumstanced
.
They
exit
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
Enter
Othello
and
Iago
.
Will
you
think
so
?
Think
so
,
Iago
?
What
,
To
to
kiss
in
private
?
An
unauthorized
kiss
!
Or
to
be
naked
with
her
friend
in
bed
An
hour
or
more
,
not
meaning
any
harm
?
Naked
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
.
If
they
do
nothing
,
’tis
a
venial
slip
.
But
if
I
give
my
wife
a
handkerchief
—
What
then
?
Why
then
,
’tis
hers
,
my
lord
,
and
being
hers
,
She
may
,
I
think
,
bestow
’t
on
any
man
.
She
is
protectress
of
her
honor
,
too
.
May
she
give
that
?
ACT 4. SC. 1
Her
honor
is
an
essence
that’s
not
seen
;
They
have
it
very
oft
that
have
it
not
.
But
for
the
handkerchief
—
By
heaven
,
I
would
most
gladly
have
forgot
it
.
Thou
saidst
—
O
,
it
comes
o’er
my
memory
As
doth
the
raven
o’er
the
infectious
house
,
Boding
to
all
—
he
had
my
handkerchief
.
Ay
,
what
of
that
?
That’s
not
so
good
now
.
What
If
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
,
Convincèd
or
supplied
them
,
cannot
choose
But
they
must
blab
)
—
Hath
he
said
anything
?
He
hath
,
my
lord
,
but
be
you
well
assured
,
No
more
than
he’ll
unswear
.
What
hath
he
said
?
Faith
,
that
he
did
—
I
know
not
what
he
did
.
What
?
What
?
Lie
—
With
her
?
With
her
—
on
her
—
what
you
will
.
Lie
with
her
?
Lie
on
her
?
We
say
lie
on
her
when
they
belie
her
.
Lie
with
her
—
Zounds
,
that’s
fulsome
!
Handkerchief
—
confessions
—
handkerchief
.
To
confess
and
be
hanged
for
his
labor
.
First
to
be
hanged
and
then
to
confess
—
I
tremble
at
it
.
Nature
would
not
invest
herself
in
such
shadowing
passion
without
some
instruction
.
It
is
not
ACT 4. SC. 1
words
that
shakes
me
thus
.
Pish
!
Noses
,
ears
,
and
lips
—
is
’t
possible
?
Confess
—
handkerchief
—
O
,
devil
!
He
falls
in
a
trance
.
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
?
What’s
the
matter
?
My
lord
is
fall’n
into
an
epilepsy
.
This
is
his
second
fit
.
He
had
one
yesterday
.
Rub
him
about
the
temples
.
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
.
Cassio
exits
.
How
is
it
,
general
?
Have
you
not
hurt
your
head
?
Dost
thou
mock
me
?
I
mock
you
not
,
by
heaven
!
Would
you
would
bear
your
fortune
like
a
man
!
A
hornèd
man’s
a
monster
and
a
beast
.
There’s
many
a
beast
,
then
,
in
a
populous
city
,
And
many
a
civil
monster
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Did
he
confess
it
?
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
.
O
,
’tis
the
spite
of
hell
,
the
fiend’s
arch-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
.
O
,
thou
art
wise
,
’tis
certain
.
Stand
you
awhile
apart
.
Confine
yourself
but
in
a
patient
list
.
Whilst
you
were
here
,
o’erwhelmèd
with
your
grief
—
A
passion
most
unsuiting
such
a
man
—
Cassio
came
hither
.
I
shifted
him
away
And
laid
good
’scuses
upon
your
ecstasy
,
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’re
all
in
all
in
spleen
,
And
nothing
of
a
man
.
Dost
thou
hear
,
Iago
,
I
will
be
found
most
cunning
in
my
patience
,
But
(
dost
thou
hear
?
)
most
bloody
.
That’s
not
amiss
.
But
yet
keep
time
in
all
.
Will
you
withdraw
?
Othello
withdraws
.
Now
will
I
question
Cassio
of
Bianca
,
A
huswife
that
by
selling
her
desires
Buys
herself
bread
and
clothes
.
It
is
a
creature
ACT 4. SC. 1
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
restrain
From
the
excess
of
laughter
.
Here
he
comes
.
Enter
Cassio
.
As
he
shall
smile
,
Othello
shall
go
mad
,
And
his
unbookish
jealousy
must
construe
Poor
Cassio’s
smiles
,
gestures
,
and
light
behaviors
Quite
in
the
wrong
.
—
How
do
you
,
lieutenant
?
The
worser
that
you
give
me
the
addition
Whose
want
even
kills
me
.
Ply
Desdemona
well
,
and
you
are
sure
on
’t
.
Now
,
if
this
suit
lay
in
Bianca’s
power
,
How
quickly
should
you
speed
!
,
laughing
Alas
,
poor
caitiff
!
Look
how
he
laughs
already
!
I
never
knew
woman
love
man
so
.
Alas
,
poor
rogue
,
I
think
i’
faith
she
loves
me
.
Now
he
denies
it
faintly
and
laughs
it
out
.
Do
you
hear
,
Cassio
?
Now
he
importunes
him
To
tell
it
o’er
.
Go
to
,
well
said
,
well
said
.
She
gives
it
out
that
you
shall
marry
her
.
Do
you
intend
it
?
Ha
,
ha
,
ha
!
Do
you
triumph
,
Roman
?
Do
you
triumph
?
I
marry
her
?
What
,
a
customer
?
Prithee
bear
some
charity
to
my
wit
!
Do
not
think
it
so
unwholesome
.
Ha
,
ha
,
ha
!
ACT 4. SC. 1
So
,
so
,
so
,
so
.
They
laugh
that
wins
.
Faith
,
the
cry
goes
that
you
marry
her
.
Prithee
say
true
!
I
am
a
very
villain
else
.
Have
you
scored
me
?
Well
.
This
is
the
monkey’s
own
giving
out
.
She
is
persuaded
I
will
marry
her
out
of
her
own
love
and
flattery
,
not
out
of
my
promise
.
Iago
beckons
me
.
Now
he
begins
the
story
.
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
.
By
this
hand
,
she
falls
thus
about
my
neck
!
Crying
,
O
dear
Cassio
,
as
it
were
;
his
gesture
imports
it
.
So
hangs
and
lolls
and
weeps
upon
me
,
so
shakes
and
pulls
me
.
Ha
,
ha
,
ha
!
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
.
Well
,
I
must
leave
her
company
.
Before
me
,
look
where
she
comes
.
Enter
Bianca
.
’Tis
such
another
fitchew
—
marry
,
a
perfumed
one
!
—
What
do
you
mean
by
this
haunting
of
me
?
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
in
your
chamber
and
know
not
who
ACT 4. SC. 1
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
.
How
now
,
my
sweet
Bianca
?
How
now
?
How
now
?
By
heaven
,
that
should
be
my
handkerchief
!
If
you’ll
come
to
supper
tonight
you
may
.
If
you
will
not
,
come
when
you
are
next
prepared
for
.
She
exits
.
After
her
,
after
her
!
Faith
,
I
must
.
She’ll
rail
in
the
streets
else
.
Will
you
sup
there
?
Faith
,
I
intend
so
.
Well
,
I
may
chance
to
see
you
,
for
I
would
very
fain
speak
with
you
.
Prithee
come
.
Will
you
?
Go
to
;
say
no
more
.
Cassio
exits
.
,
coming
forward
How
shall
I
murder
him
,
Iago
?
Did
you
perceive
how
he
laughed
at
his
vice
?
O
Iago
!
And
did
you
see
the
handkerchief
?
Was
that
mine
?
Yours
,
by
this
hand
!
And
to
see
how
he
prizes
the
foolish
woman
your
wife
!
She
gave
it
him
,
and
he
hath
giv’n
it
his
whore
.
I
would
have
him
nine
years
a-killing
!
A
fine
woman
,
a
fair
woman
,
a
sweet
woman
!
Nay
,
you
must
forget
that
.
Ay
,
let
her
rot
and
perish
and
be
damned
tonight
,
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
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Nay
,
that’s
not
your
way
.
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
!
She’s
the
worse
for
all
this
.
O
,
a
thousand
,
a
thousand
times
!
—
And
then
of
so
gentle
a
condition
!
Ay
,
too
gentle
.
Nay
,
that’s
certain
.
But
yet
the
pity
of
it
,
Iago
!
O
,
Iago
,
the
pity
of
it
,
Iago
!
If
you
are
so
fond
over
her
iniquity
,
give
her
patent
to
offend
,
for
if
it
touch
not
you
,
it
comes
near
nobody
.
I
will
chop
her
into
messes
!
Cuckold
me
?
O
,
’tis
foul
in
her
.
With
mine
officer
!
That’s
fouler
.
Get
me
some
poison
,
Iago
,
this
night
.
I’ll
not
expostulate
with
her
lest
her
body
and
beauty
unprovide
my
mind
again
.
This
night
,
Iago
.
Do
it
not
with
poison
.
Strangle
her
in
her
bed
,
even
the
bed
she
hath
contaminated
.
Good
,
good
.
The
justice
of
it
pleases
.
Very
good
.
And
for
Cassio
,
let
me
be
his
undertaker
.
You
shall
hear
more
by
midnight
.
Excellent
good
.
A
trumpet
sounds
.
What
trumpet
is
that
same
?
I
warrant
something
from
Venice
.
Enter
Lodovico
,
Desdemona
,
and
Attendants
.
’Tis
Lodovico
.
This
comes
from
the
Duke
.
See
,
your
wife’s
with
him
.
God
save
you
,
worthy
general
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
With
all
my
heart
,
sir
.
The
Duke
and
the
Senators
of
Venice
greet
you
.
He
hands
Othello
a
paper
.
I
kiss
the
instrument
of
their
pleasures
.
And
what’s
the
news
,
good
cousin
Lodovico
?
I
am
very
glad
to
see
you
,
signior
.
Welcome
to
Cyprus
.
I
thank
you
.
How
does
Lieutenant
Cassio
?
Lives
,
sir
.
Cousin
,
there’s
fall’n
between
him
and
my
lord
An
unkind
breach
,
but
you
shall
make
all
well
.
Are
you
sure
of
that
?
My
lord
?
,
reading
This
fail
you
not
to
do
,
as
you
will
—
He
did
not
call
;
he’s
busy
in
the
paper
.
Is
there
division
’twixt
my
lord
and
Cassio
?
A
most
unhappy
one
.
I
would
do
much
T’
atone
them
,
for
the
love
I
bear
to
Cassio
.
Fire
and
brimstone
!
My
lord
?
Are
you
wise
?
What
,
is
he
angry
?
May
be
the
letter
moved
him
.
For
,
as
I
think
,
they
do
command
him
home
,
Deputing
Cassio
in
his
government
.
By
my
troth
,
I
am
glad
on
’t
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Indeed
?
My
lord
?
I
am
glad
to
see
you
mad
.
Why
,
sweet
Othello
!
,
striking
her
Devil
!
I
have
not
deserved
this
.
My
lord
,
this
would
not
be
believed
in
Venice
,
Though
I
should
swear
I
saw
’t
.
’Tis
very
much
.
Make
her
amends
.
She
weeps
.
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
!
I
will
not
stay
to
offend
you
.
She
begins
to
leave
.
Truly
an
obedient
lady
.
I
do
beseech
your
Lordship
call
her
back
.
Mistress
.
,
turning
back
My
lord
?
What
would
you
with
her
,
sir
?
Who
,
I
,
my
lord
?
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
—
O
,
well-painted
passion
!
—
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
!
Desdemona
exits
.
Cassio
shall
have
my
place
.
And
,
sir
,
tonight
I
do
entreat
that
we
may
sup
together
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
You
are
welcome
,
sir
,
to
Cyprus
.
Goats
and
monkeys
!
He
exits
.
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
?
He
is
much
changed
.
Are
his
wits
safe
?
Is
he
not
light
of
brain
?
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
.
What
?
Strike
his
wife
?
’Faith
,
that
was
not
so
well
.
Yet
would
I
knew
That
stroke
would
prove
the
worst
.
Is
it
his
use
?
Or
did
the
letters
work
upon
his
blood
And
new-create
this
fault
?
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
And
mark
how
he
continues
.
I
am
sorry
that
I
am
deceived
in
him
.
They
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Othello
and
Emilia
.
You
have
seen
nothing
then
?
Nor
ever
heard
,
nor
ever
did
suspect
.
Yes
,
you
have
seen
Cassio
and
she
together
.
But
then
I
saw
no
harm
,
and
then
I
heard
Each
syllable
that
breath
made
up
between
them
.
What
,
did
they
never
whisper
?
Never
,
my
lord
.
Nor
send
you
out
o’
th’
way
?
Never
.
To
fetch
her
fan
,
her
gloves
,
her
mask
,
nor
nothing
?
Never
,
my
lord
.
That’s
strange
.
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
.
Bid
her
come
hither
.
Go
.
Emilia
exits
.
She
says
enough
.
Yet
she’s
a
simple
bawd
That
cannot
say
as
much
.
This
is
a
subtle
whore
,
A
closet
lock
and
key
of
villainous
secrets
.
And
yet
she’ll
kneel
and
pray
.
I
have
seen
her
do
’t
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Enter
Desdemona
and
Emilia
.
My
lord
,
what
is
your
will
?
Pray
you
,
chuck
,
come
hither
.
What
is
your
pleasure
?
Let
me
see
your
eyes
.
Look
in
my
face
.
What
horrible
fancy’s
this
?
,
to
Emilia
Some
of
your
function
,
mistress
.
Leave
procreants
alone
,
and
shut
the
door
.
Cough
,
or
cry
hem
,
if
anybody
come
.
Your
mystery
,
your
mystery
!
Nay
,
dispatch
.
Emilia
exits
.
,
kneeling
Upon
my
knees
,
what
doth
your
speech
import
?
I
understand
a
fury
in
your
words
,
But
not
the
words
.
Why
?
What
art
thou
?
Your
wife
,
my
lord
,
your
true
and
loyal
wife
.
Come
,
swear
it
.
Damn
thyself
,
Lest
,
being
like
one
of
heaven
,
the
devils
themselves
Should
fear
to
seize
thee
.
Therefore
be
double
damned
.
Swear
thou
art
honest
.
Heaven
doth
truly
know
it
.
Heaven
truly
knows
that
thou
art
false
as
hell
.
,
standing
To
whom
,
my
lord
?
With
whom
?
How
am
I
false
?
Ah
,
Desdemon
,
away
,
away
,
away
!
Alas
the
heavy
day
,
why
do
you
weep
?
ACT 4. SC. 2
Am
I
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
,
I
have
lost
him
too
.
Had
it
pleased
heaven
To
try
me
with
affliction
,
had
they
rained
All
kind
of
sores
and
shames
on
my
bare
head
,
Steeped
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
fixèd
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
garnered
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
,
Or
keep
it
as
a
cistern
for
foul
toads
To
knot
and
gender
in
—
turn
thy
complexion
there
,
Patience
,
thou
young
and
rose-lipped
cherubin
,
Ay
,
there
look
grim
as
hell
.
I
hope
my
noble
lord
esteems
me
honest
.
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
That
the
sense
aches
at
thee
,
would
thou
hadst
ne’er
been
born
!
Alas
,
what
ignorant
sin
have
I
committed
?
Was
this
fair
paper
,
this
most
goodly
book
,
Made
to
write
whore
upon
?
What
committed
?
Committed
?
O
thou
public
commoner
,
ACT 4. SC. 2
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
hushed
within
the
hollow
mine
of
earth
And
will
not
hear
’t
.
What
committed
?
Impudent
strumpet
!
By
heaven
,
you
do
me
wrong
!
Are
not
you
a
strumpet
?
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
.
What
,
not
a
whore
?
No
,
as
I
shall
be
saved
.
Is
’t
possible
?
O
,
heaven
forgive
us
!
I
cry
you
mercy
,
then
.
I
took
you
for
that
cunning
whore
of
Venice
That
married
with
Othello
.
—
You
,
mistress
,
Enter
Emilia
.
That
have
the
office
opposite
to
Saint
Peter
And
keeps
the
gate
of
hell
—
you
,
you
,
ay
,
you
!
We
have
done
our
course
.
There’s
money
for
your
pains
.
He
gives
her
money
.
I
pray
you
turn
the
key
and
keep
our
counsel
.
He
exits
.
Alas
,
what
does
this
gentleman
conceive
?
How
do
you
,
madam
?
How
do
you
,
my
good
lady
?
Faith
,
half
asleep
.
Good
madam
,
what’s
the
matter
with
my
lord
?
ACT 4. SC. 2
With
who
?
Why
,
with
my
lord
,
madam
.
Who
is
thy
lord
?
He
that
is
yours
,
sweet
lady
.
I
have
none
.
Do
not
talk
to
me
,
Emilia
.
I
cannot
weep
,
nor
answers
have
I
none
But
what
should
go
by
water
.
Prithee
,
tonight
Lay
on
my
bed
my
wedding
sheets
.
Remember
.
And
call
thy
husband
hither
.
Here’s
a
change
indeed
.
She
exits
.
’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
?
Enter
Iago
and
Emilia
.
What
is
your
pleasure
,
madam
?
How
is
’t
with
you
?
I
cannot
tell
.
Those
that
do
teach
young
babes
Do
it
with
gentle
means
and
easy
tasks
.
He
might
have
chid
me
so
,
for
,
in
good
faith
,
I
am
a
child
to
chiding
.
What
is
the
matter
,
lady
?
Alas
,
Iago
,
my
lord
hath
so
bewhored
her
,
Thrown
such
despite
and
heavy
terms
upon
her
As
true
hearts
cannot
bear
.
Am
I
that
name
,
Iago
?
What
name
,
fair
lady
?
Such
as
she
said
my
lord
did
say
I
was
.
He
called
her
whore
.
A
beggar
in
his
drink
Could
not
have
laid
such
terms
upon
his
callet
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Why
did
he
so
?
I
do
not
know
.
I
am
sure
I
am
none
such
.
Do
not
weep
,
do
not
weep
!
Alas
the
day
!
Hath
she
forsook
so
many
noble
matches
,
Her
father
and
her
country
and
her
friends
,
To
be
called
whore
?
Would
it
not
make
one
weep
?
It
is
my
wretched
fortune
.
Beshrew
him
for
’t
!
How
comes
this
trick
upon
him
?
Nay
,
heaven
doth
know
.
I
will
be
hanged
if
some
eternal
villain
,
Some
busy
and
insinuating
rogue
,
Some
cogging
,
cozening
slave
,
to
get
some
office
,
Have
not
devised
this
slander
.
I
will
be
hanged
else
.
Fie
,
there
is
no
such
man
.
It
is
impossible
.
If
any
such
there
be
,
heaven
pardon
him
.
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
villainous
knave
,
Some
base
notorious
knave
,
some
scurvy
fellow
.
O
heaven
,
that
such
companions
thou
’dst
unfold
,
And
put
in
every
honest
hand
a
whip
To
lash
the
rascals
naked
through
the
world
,
Even
from
the
east
to
th’
west
!
Speak
within
door
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
O
,
fie
upon
them
!
Some
such
squire
he
was
That
turned
your
wit
the
seamy
side
without
And
made
you
to
suspect
me
with
the
Moor
.
You
are
a
fool
.
Go
to
!
Alas
,
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
.
She
kneels
.
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
!
She
stands
.
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
.
To
do
the
act
that
might
the
addition
earn
,
Not
the
world’s
mass
of
vanity
could
make
me
.
I
pray
you
be
content
.
’Tis
but
his
humor
.
The
business
of
the
state
does
him
offense
,
And
he
does
chide
with
you
.
If
’twere
no
other
—
It
is
but
so
,
I
warrant
.
Trumpets
sound
.
Hark
how
these
instruments
summon
to
supper
.
The
messengers
of
Venice
stays
the
meat
.
Go
in
and
weep
not
.
All
things
shall
be
well
.
Desdemona
and
Emilia
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Enter
Roderigo
.
How
now
,
Roderigo
?
I
do
not
find
That
thou
deal’st
justly
with
me
.
What
in
the
contrary
?
Every
day
thou
daff’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
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
.
Will
you
hear
me
,
Roderigo
?
Faith
,
I
have
heard
too
much
,
and
your
words
and
performances
are
no
kin
together
.
You
charge
me
most
unjustly
.
With
naught
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
votaress
.
You
have
told
me
she
hath
received
them
,
and
returned
me
expectations
and
comforts
of
sudden
respect
and
acquaintance
,
but
I
find
none
.
Well
,
go
to
!
Very
well
.
Very
well
.
Go
to
!
I
cannot
go
to
,
man
,
nor
’tis
not
very
well
!
By
this
hand
,
I
say
’tis
very
scurvy
,
and
begin
to
find
myself
fopped
in
it
.
Very
well
.
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
.
You
have
said
now
.
Ay
,
and
said
nothing
but
what
I
protest
intendment
of
doing
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
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
.
It
hath
not
appeared
.
I
grant
indeed
it
hath
not
appeared
,
and
your
suspicion
is
not
without
wit
and
judgment
.
But
,
Roderigo
,
if
thou
hast
that
in
thee
indeed
which
I
have
greater
reason
to
believe
now
than
ever
—
I
mean
purpose
,
courage
,
and
valor
—
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
.
Well
,
what
is
it
?
Is
it
within
reason
and
compass
?
Sir
,
there
is
especial
commission
come
from
Venice
to
depute
Cassio
in
Othello’s
place
.
Is
that
true
?
Why
,
then
,
Othello
and
Desdemona
return
again
to
Venice
.
O
,
no
.
He
goes
into
Mauritania
and
takes
away
with
him
the
fair
Desdemona
,
unless
his
abode
be
lingered
here
by
some
accident
—
wherein
none
can
be
so
determinate
as
the
removing
of
Cassio
.
How
do
you
mean
,
removing
him
?
Why
,
by
making
him
uncapable
of
Othello’s
place
:
knocking
out
his
brains
.
And
that
you
would
have
me
to
do
?
Ay
,
if
you
dare
do
yourself
a
profit
and
a
right
.
He
sups
tonight
with
a
harlotry
,
and
thither
will
I
go
to
him
.
He
knows
not
yet
of
his
honorable
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
,
ACT 4. SC. 3
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
!
I
will
hear
further
reason
for
this
.
And
you
shall
be
satisfied
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
Othello
,
Lodovico
,
Desdemona
,
Emilia
,
and
Attendants
.
I
do
beseech
you
,
sir
,
trouble
yourself
no
further
.
O
,
pardon
me
,
’twill
do
me
good
to
walk
.
Madam
,
good
night
.
I
humbly
thank
your
Ladyship
.
Your
Honor
is
most
welcome
.
Will
you
walk
,
sir
?
—
O
,
Desdemona
—
My
lord
?
Get
you
to
bed
on
th’
instant
.
I
will
be
returned
forthwith
.
Dismiss
your
attendant
there
.
Look
’t
be
done
.
I
will
,
my
lord
.
All
but
Desdemona
and
Emilia
exit
.
How
goes
it
now
?
He
looks
gentler
than
he
did
.
He
says
he
will
return
incontinent
,
And
hath
commanded
me
to
go
to
bed
,
And
bade
me
to
dismiss
you
.
Dismiss
me
?
It
was
his
bidding
.
Therefore
,
good
Emilia
,
ACT 4. SC. 3
Give
me
my
nightly
wearing
,
and
adieu
.
We
must
not
now
displease
him
.
I
would
you
had
never
seen
him
.
So
would
not
I
.
My
love
doth
so
approve
him
That
even
his
stubbornness
,
his
checks
,
his
frowns
—
Prithee
,
unpin
me
—
have
grace
and
favor
in
them
.
I
have
laid
those
sheets
you
bade
me
on
the
bed
.
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
.
Come
,
come
,
you
talk
!
My
mother
had
a
maid
called
Barbary
.
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
expressed
her
fortune
,
And
she
died
singing
it
.
That
song
tonight
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
Barbary
.
Prithee
,
dispatch
.
Shall
I
go
fetch
your
nightgown
?
No
,
unpin
me
here
.
This
Lodovico
is
a
proper
man
.
A
very
handsome
man
.
He
speaks
well
.
I
know
a
lady
in
Venice
would
have
walked
barefoot
to
Palestine
for
a
touch
of
his
nether
lip
.
,
singing
The
poor
soul
sat
sighing
by
a
sycamore
tree
,
Sing
all
a
green
willow
.
Her
hand
on
her
bosom
,
her
head
on
her
knee
,
Sing
willow
,
willow
,
willow
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
The
fresh
streams
ran
by
her
and
murmured
her
moans
,
Sing
willow
,
willow
,
willow
;
Her
salt
tears
fell
from
her
,
and
softened
the
stones
—
Lay
by
these
.
Sing
willow
,
willow
,
willow
.
Prithee
hie
thee
!
He’ll
come
anon
.
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
?
It’s
the
wind
.
I
called
my
love
false
love
,
but
what
said
he
then
?
Sing
willow
,
willow
,
willow
.
If
I
court
more
women
,
you’ll
couch
with
more
men
.
—
So
,
get
thee
gone
.
Good
night
.
Mine
eyes
do
itch
;
Doth
that
bode
weeping
?
’Tis
neither
here
nor
there
.
I
have
heard
it
said
so
.
O
these
men
,
these
men
!
Dost
thou
in
conscience
think
—
tell
me
,
Emilia
—
That
there
be
women
do
abuse
their
husbands
In
such
gross
kind
?
There
be
some
such
,
no
question
.
Wouldst
thou
do
such
a
deed
for
all
the
world
?
Why
,
would
not
you
?
No
,
by
this
heavenly
light
!
Nor
I
neither
,
by
this
heavenly
light
.
I
might
do
’t
as
well
i’
th’
dark
.
Wouldst
thou
do
such
a
deed
for
all
the
world
?
ACT 4. SC. 3
The
world’s
a
huge
thing
.
It
is
a
great
price
for
a
small
vice
.
In
troth
,
I
think
thou
wouldst
not
.
In
troth
,
I
think
I
should
,
and
undo
’t
when
I
had
done
it
.
Marry
,
I
would
not
do
such
a
thing
for
a
joint
ring
,
nor
for
measures
of
lawn
,
nor
for
gowns
,
petticoats
,
nor
caps
,
nor
any
petty
exhibition
.
But
for
the
whole
world
—
’Uds
pity
!
Who
would
not
make
her
husband
a
cuckold
to
make
him
a
monarch
?
I
should
venture
purgatory
for
’t
.
Beshrew
me
if
I
would
do
such
a
wrong
for
the
whole
world
!
Why
,
the
wrong
is
but
a
wrong
i’
th’
world
;
and
,
having
the
world
for
your
labor
,
’tis
a
wrong
in
your
own
world
,
and
you
might
quickly
make
it
right
.
I
do
not
think
there
is
any
such
woman
.
Yes
,
a
dozen
;
and
as
many
to
th’
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
,
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
?
It
is
so
too
.
And
have
not
we
affections
,
Desires
for
sport
,
and
frailty
,
as
men
have
?
ACT 4. SC. 3
Then
let
them
use
us
well
.
Else
let
them
know
,
The
ills
we
do
,
their
ills
instruct
us
so
.
Good
night
,
good
night
.
God
me
such
uses
send
,
Not
to
pick
bad
from
bad
,
but
by
bad
mend
.
They
exit
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Enter
Iago
and
Roderigo
.
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
.
Be
near
at
hand
.
I
may
miscarry
in
’t
.
Here
,
at
thy
hand
.
Be
bold
and
take
thy
stand
.
He
moves
aside
.
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
.
He
draws
his
sword
.
,
aside
I
have
rubbed
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
bobbed
from
him
ACT 5. SC. 1
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
May
unfold
me
to
him
.
There
stand
I
in
much
peril
.
No
,
he
must
die
.
Be
’t
so
.
I
hear
him
coming
.
Enter
Cassio
.
I
know
his
gait
.
’Tis
he
!
—
Villain
,
thou
diest
!
He
thrusts
at
Cassio
.
That
thrust
had
been
mine
enemy
indeed
But
that
my
coat
is
better
than
thou
know’st
.
I
will
make
proof
of
thine
.
He
draws
,
and
stabs
Roderigo
.
O
,
I
am
slain
!
Roderigo
falls
.
Iago
stabs
Cassio
in
the
leg
,
and
exits
.
I
am
maimed
forever
!
Help
,
ho
!
Murder
,
murder
!
Enter
Othello
.
The
voice
of
Cassio
!
Iago
keeps
his
word
.
O
,
villain
that
I
am
!
,
aside
It
is
even
so
.
O
,
help
ho
!
Light
!
A
surgeon
!
,
aside
’Tis
he
!
O
brave
Iago
,
honest
and
just
,
That
hast
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
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Thy
bed
,
lust-stained
,
shall
with
lust’s
blood
be
spotted
.
Othello
exits
.
Enter
Lodovico
and
Gratiano
.
What
ho
!
No
watch
?
No
passage
?
Murder
,
murder
!
’Tis
some
mischance
.
The
voice
is
very
direful
.
O
,
help
!
Hark
!
O
wretched
villain
!
Two
or
three
groan
.
’Tis
heavy
night
.
These
may
be
counterfeits
.
Let’s
think
’t
unsafe
To
come
in
to
the
cry
without
more
help
.
Nobody
come
?
Then
shall
I
bleed
to
death
.
Enter
Iago
with
a
light
.
Hark
!
Here’s
one
comes
in
his
shirt
,
with
light
and
weapons
.
Who’s
there
?
Whose
noise
is
this
that
cries
on
murder
?
We
do
not
know
.
Did
not
you
hear
a
cry
?
Here
,
here
!
For
heaven’s
sake
,
help
me
!
What’s
the
matter
?
,
to
Lodovico
This
is
Othello’s
ancient
,
as
I
take
it
.
The
same
indeed
,
a
very
valiant
fellow
.
,
to
Cassio
What
are
you
here
that
cry
so
grievously
?
ACT 5. SC. 1
Iago
?
O
,
I
am
spoiled
,
undone
by
villains
.
Give
me
some
help
!
O
me
,
lieutenant
!
What
villains
have
done
this
?
I
think
that
one
of
them
is
hereabout
And
cannot
make
away
.
O
treacherous
villains
!
To
Lodovico
and
Gratiano
.
What
are
you
there
?
Come
in
,
and
give
some
help
.
O
,
help
me
here
!
That’s
one
of
them
.
,
to
Roderigo
O
murd’rous
slave
!
O
villain
!
He
stabs
Roderigo
.
O
damned
Iago
!
O
inhuman
dog
!
Kill
men
i’
th’
dark
?
—
Where
be
these
bloody
thieves
?
How
silent
is
this
town
!
Ho
,
murder
,
murder
!
—
What
may
you
be
?
Are
you
of
good
or
evil
?
As
you
shall
prove
us
,
praise
us
.
Signior
Lodovico
?
He
,
sir
.
I
cry
you
mercy
.
Here’s
Cassio
hurt
by
villains
.
Cassio
?
How
is
’t
,
brother
?
My
leg
is
cut
in
two
.
Marry
,
heaven
forbid
!
Light
,
gentlemen
.
I’ll
bind
it
with
my
shirt
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Enter
Bianca
.
What
is
the
matter
,
ho
?
Who
is
’t
that
cried
?
Who
is
’t
that
cried
?
O
,
my
dear
Cassio
,
My
sweet
Cassio
!
O
Cassio
,
Cassio
,
Cassio
!
O
notable
strumpet
!
Cassio
,
may
you
suspect
Who
they
should
be
that
have
thus
mangled
you
?
No
.
I
am
sorry
to
find
you
thus
;
I
have
been
to
seek
you
.
Lend
me
a
garter
.
So
.
—
O
for
a
chair
To
bear
him
easily
hence
!
Alas
,
he
faints
.
O
,
Cassio
,
Cassio
,
Cassio
!
Gentlemen
all
,
I
do
suspect
this
trash
To
be
a
party
in
this
injury
.
—
Patience
awhile
,
good
Cassio
.
—
Come
,
come
;
Lend
me
a
light
.
Peering
at
Roderigo
.
Know
we
this
face
or
no
?
Alas
,
my
friend
and
my
dear
countryman
Roderigo
?
No
!
Yes
,
sure
.
O
heaven
,
Roderigo
!
What
,
of
Venice
?
Even
he
,
sir
.
Did
you
know
him
?
Know
him
?
Ay
.
Signior
Gratiano
?
I
cry
your
gentle
pardon
.
These
bloody
accidents
must
excuse
my
manners
That
so
neglected
you
.
I
am
glad
to
see
you
.
How
do
you
,
Cassio
?
—
O
,
a
chair
,
a
chair
!
ACT 5. SC. 1
Roderigo
?
He
,
he
,
’tis
he
!
A
chair
is
brought
in
.
O
,
that’s
well
said
;
the
chair
.
—
Some
good
man
bear
him
carefully
from
hence
.
I’ll
fetch
the
General’s
surgeon
.
—
For
you
,
mistress
,
Save
you
your
labor
.
—
He
that
lies
slain
here
,
Cassio
,
Was
my
dear
friend
.
What
malice
was
between
you
?
None
in
the
world
.
Nor
do
I
know
the
man
.
,
to
Bianca
What
,
look
you
pale
?
—
O
,
bear
him
out
o’
th’
air
.
Cassio
,
in
the
chair
,
and
Roderigo
are
carried
off
.
To
Gratiano
and
Lodovico
.
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
.
Enter
Emilia
.
Alas
,
what
is
the
matter
?
What
is
the
matter
,
husband
?
Cassio
hath
here
been
set
on
in
the
dark
By
Roderigo
and
fellows
that
are
scaped
.
He’s
almost
slain
,
and
Roderigo
dead
.
Alas
,
good
gentleman
!
Alas
,
good
Cassio
!
This
is
the
fruits
of
whoring
.
Prithee
,
Emilia
,
Go
know
of
Cassio
where
he
supped
tonight
.
To
Bianca
.
What
,
do
you
shake
at
that
?
ACT 5. SC. 2
He
supped
at
my
house
,
but
I
therefore
shake
not
.
O
,
did
he
so
?
I
charge
you
go
with
me
.
O
fie
upon
thee
,
strumpet
!
I
am
no
strumpet
,
but
of
life
as
honest
As
you
that
thus
abuse
me
.
As
I
?
Faugh
!
Fie
upon
thee
!
Kind
gentlemen
,
let’s
go
see
poor
Cassio
dressed
.
—
Come
,
mistress
,
you
must
tell
’s
another
tale
.
—
Emilia
,
run
you
to
the
citadel
And
tell
my
lord
and
lady
what
hath
happed
.
—
Will
you
go
on
afore
?
Aside
.
This
is
the
night
That
either
makes
me
or
fordoes
me
quite
.
They
exit
in
different
directions
.
Scene
2
Enter
Othello
with
a
light
,
and
Desdemona
in
her
bed
.
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
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
plucked
the
rose
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
I
cannot
give
it
vital
growth
again
.
It
needs
must
wither
.
I’ll
smell
it
on
the
tree
.
O
balmy
breath
,
that
dost
almost
persuade
Justice
to
break
her
sword
!
He
kisses
her
.
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
.
He
kisses
her
.
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
.
She
wakes
.
Who’s
there
?
Othello
?
Ay
,
Desdemona
.
Will
you
come
to
bed
,
my
lord
?
Have
you
prayed
tonight
,
Desdemon
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
If
you
bethink
yourself
of
any
crime
Unreconciled
as
yet
to
heaven
and
grace
,
Solicit
for
it
straight
.
Alack
,
my
lord
,
What
may
you
mean
by
that
?
Well
,
do
it
,
and
be
brief
.
I
will
walk
by
.
I
would
not
kill
thy
unpreparèd
spirit
.
No
,
heaven
forfend
!
I
would
not
kill
thy
soul
.
Talk
you
of
killing
?
Ay
,
I
do
.
Then
heaven
have
mercy
on
me
.
Amen
,
with
all
my
heart
.
If
you
say
so
,
I
hope
you
will
not
kill
me
.
Humh
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
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
.
Think
on
thy
sins
.
They
are
loves
I
bear
to
you
.
Ay
,
and
for
that
thou
diest
.
That
death’s
unnatural
that
kills
for
loving
.
Alas
,
why
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
.
Peace
,
and
be
still
.
I
will
so
.
What’s
the
matter
?
That
handkerchief
Which
I
so
loved
,
and
gave
thee
,
thou
gav’st
to
Cassio
.
No
,
by
my
life
and
soul
!
Send
for
the
man
And
ask
him
.
Sweet
soul
,
take
heed
,
take
heed
of
perjury
.
Thou
art
on
thy
deathbed
.
Ay
,
but
not
yet
to
die
.
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
.
Then
Lord
have
mercy
on
me
!
ACT 5. SC. 2
I
say
Amen
.
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
.
By
heaven
,
I
saw
my
handkerchief
in
’s
hand
!
O
perjured
woman
,
thou
dost
stone
my
heart
And
mak’st
me
call
what
I
intend
to
do
A
murder
,
which
I
thought
a
sacrifice
!
I
saw
the
handkerchief
!
He
found
it
,
then
.
I
never
gave
it
him
.
Send
for
him
hither
.
Let
him
confess
a
truth
.
He
hath
confessed
.
What
,
my
lord
?
That
he
hath
used
thee
.
How
?
Unlawfully
?
Ay
.
He
will
not
say
so
.
No
.
His
mouth
is
stopped
.
Honest
Iago
hath
ta’en
order
for
’t
.
O
,
my
fear
interprets
.
What
,
is
he
dead
?
Had
all
his
hairs
been
lives
,
my
great
revenge
Had
stomach
for
them
all
.
Alas
,
he
is
betrayed
,
and
I
undone
.
She
weeps
.
Out
,
strumpet
!
Weep’st
thou
for
him
to
my
face
?
O
banish
me
,
my
lord
,
but
kill
me
not
!
ACT 5. SC. 2
Down
,
strumpet
!
Kill
me
tomorrow
,
let
me
live
tonight
.
Nay
,
if
you
strive
—
But
half
an
hour
!
Being
done
,
there
is
no
pause
.
But
while
I
say
one
prayer
!
It
is
too
late
.
He
smothers
her
.
,
within
My
lord
,
my
lord
?
What
ho
!
My
lord
,
my
lord
!
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
.
So
,
so
.
,
within
What
,
ho
!
My
lord
,
my
lord
!
Who’s
there
?
,
within
O
,
good
my
lord
,
I
would
speak
a
word
with
you
.
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
th’
affrighted
globe
Should
yawn
at
alteration
.
,
within
I
do
beseech
you
That
I
may
speak
with
you
.
O
,
good
my
lord
—
ACT 5. SC. 2
I
had
forgot
thee
.
O
,
come
in
,
Emilia
.
—
Soft
,
by
and
by
,
let
me
the
curtains
draw
.
—
Where
art
thou
?
Enter
Emilia
.
What’s
the
matter
with
thee
now
?
O
,
my
good
lord
,
yonder’s
foul
murders
done
.
What
?
Now
?
But
now
,
my
lord
.
It
is
the
very
error
of
the
moon
.
She
comes
more
nearer
Earth
earth
than
she
was
wont
And
makes
men
mad
.
Cassio
,
my
lord
,
hath
killed
A
young
Venetian
called
Roderigo
.
Roderigo
killed
?
And
Cassio
killed
?
No
,
Cassio
is
not
killed
.
Not
Cassio
killed
?
Then
murder’s
out
of
tune
,
And
sweet
revenge
grows
harsh
.
O
falsely
,
falsely
murdered
.
O
Lord
,
what
cry
is
that
?
That
?
What
?
Out
,
and
alas
,
that
was
my
lady’s
voice
!
Help
!
Help
ho
!
Help
!
O
lady
,
speak
again
!
Sweet
Desdemona
,
O
sweet
mistress
,
speak
!
A
guiltless
death
I
die
.
O
,
who
hath
done
this
deed
?
Nobody
.
I
myself
.
Farewell
.
Commend
me
to
my
kind
lord
.
O
,
farewell
.
She
dies
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Why
,
how
should
she
be
murdered
?
Alas
,
who
knows
?
You
heard
her
say
herself
,
it
was
not
I
.
She
said
so
.
I
must
needs
report
the
truth
.
She’s
like
a
liar
gone
to
burning
hell
!
’Twas
I
that
killed
her
.
O
,
the
more
angel
she
,
and
you
the
blacker
devil
!
She
turned
to
folly
,
and
she
was
a
whore
.
Thou
dost
belie
her
,
and
thou
art
a
devil
!
She
was
false
as
water
.
Thou
art
rash
as
fire
to
say
That
she
was
false
.
O
,
she
was
heavenly
true
!
Cassio
did
top
her
.
Ask
thy
husband
else
.
O
,
I
were
damned
beneath
all
depth
in
hell
But
that
I
did
proceed
upon
just
grounds
To
this
extremity
.
Thy
husband
knew
it
all
.
My
husband
?
Thy
husband
.
That
she
was
false
to
wedlock
?
Ay
,
with
Cassio
.
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
.
My
husband
?
Ay
,
’twas
he
that
told
me
on
her
first
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
An
honest
man
he
is
,
and
hates
the
slime
That
sticks
on
filthy
deeds
.
My
husband
?
What
needs
this
iterance
,
woman
?
I
say
,
thy
husband
.
O
mistress
,
villainy
hath
made
mocks
with
love
!
—
My
husband
say
she
was
false
?
He
,
woman
.
I
say
thy
husband
.
Dost
understand
the
word
?
My
friend
,
thy
husband
;
honest
,
honest
Iago
.
If
he
say
so
,
may
his
pernicious
soul
Rot
half
a
grain
a
day
!
He
lies
to
th’
heart
!
She
was
too
fond
of
her
most
filthy
bargain
.
He
draws
his
sword
.
Hah
?
Do
thy
worst
!
This
deed
of
thine
is
no
more
worthy
heaven
Than
thou
wast
worthy
her
.
Peace
,
you
were
best
!
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
killed
my
mistress
!
Murder
,
murder
!
Enter
Montano
,
Gratiano
,
and
Iago
.
What
is
the
matter
?
How
now
,
general
?
O
,
are
you
come
,
Iago
?
You
have
done
well
,
That
men
must
lay
their
murders
on
your
neck
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
What
is
the
matter
?
,
to
Iago
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
.
I
told
him
what
I
thought
,
and
told
no
more
Than
what
he
found
himself
was
apt
and
true
.
But
did
you
ever
tell
him
she
was
false
?
I
did
.
You
told
a
lie
,
an
odious
,
damnèd
lie
!
Upon
my
soul
,
a
lie
,
a
wicked
lie
!
She
false
with
Cassio
?
Did
you
say
with
Cassio
?
With
Cassio
,
mistress
.
Go
to
!
Charm
your
tongue
.
I
will
not
charm
my
tongue
.
I
am
bound
to
speak
.
My
mistress
here
lies
murdered
in
her
bed
.
O
heavens
forfend
!
,
to
Iago
And
your
reports
have
set
the
murder
on
!
Nay
,
stare
not
,
masters
;
it
is
true
indeed
.
’Tis
a
strange
truth
.
O
monstrous
act
!
Villainy
,
villainy
,
villainy
!
I
think
upon
’t
,
I
think
!
I
smell
’t
!
O
villainy
!
I
thought
so
then
.
I’ll
kill
myself
for
grief
!
O
villainy
!
Villainy
!
What
,
are
you
mad
?
I
charge
you
get
you
home
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Good
gentlemen
,
let
me
have
leave
to
speak
.
’Tis
proper
I
obey
him
,
but
not
now
.
Perchance
,
Iago
,
I
will
ne’er
go
home
.
O
,
O
,
O
!
Othello
falls
on
the
bed
.
Nay
,
lay
thee
down
,
and
roar
!
For
thou
hast
killed
the
sweetest
innocent
That
e’er
did
lift
up
eye
.
,
standing
O
,
she
was
foul
!
—
I
scarce
did
know
you
,
uncle
.
There
lies
your
niece
,
Whose
breath
indeed
these
hands
have
newly
stopped
.
I
know
this
act
shows
horrible
and
grim
.
Poor
Desdemon
,
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
reprobance
.
’Tis
pitiful
.
But
yet
Iago
knows
That
she
with
Cassio
hath
the
act
of
shame
A
thousand
times
committed
.
Cassio
confessed
it
,
And
she
did
gratify
his
amorous
works
With
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
.
O
God
!
O
heavenly
God
!
Zounds
,
hold
your
peace
!
’Twill
out
,
’twill
out
.
I
peace
?
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
.
Be
wise
,
and
get
you
home
.
He
draws
his
sword
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
I
will
not
.
Fie
,
your
sword
upon
a
woman
!
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
belonged
to
such
a
trifle
)
,
He
begged
of
me
to
steal
’t
.
Villainous
whore
!
She
give
it
Cassio
?
No
,
alas
,
I
found
it
,
And
I
did
give
’t
my
husband
.
Filth
,
thou
liest
!
By
heaven
,
I
do
not
,
I
do
not
,
gentlemen
!
To
Othello
.
O
murd’rous
coxcomb
,
what
should
such
a
fool
Do
with
so
good
a
wife
?
Are
there
no
stones
in
heaven
But
what
serves
for
the
thunder
?
—
Precious
villain
!
The
Moor
runs
at
Iago
but
is
disarmed
.
Iago
kills
his
wife
.
The
woman
falls
!
Sure
he
hath
killed
his
wife
.
Ay
,
ay
!
O
,
lay
me
by
my
mistress’
side
.
Iago
exits
.
He’s
gone
,
but
his
wife’s
killed
.
’Tis
a
notorious
villain
.
Take
you
this
weapon
Which
I
have
here
recovered
from
the
Moor
.
Come
,
guard
the
door
without
.
Let
him
not
pass
,
But
kill
him
rather
.
I’ll
after
that
same
villain
,
For
’tis
a
damnèd
slave
.
Montano
and
Gratiano
exit
.
I
am
not
valiant
neither
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
But
every
puny
whipster
gets
my
sword
.
But
why
should
honor
outlive
honesty
?
Let
it
go
all
.
What
did
thy
song
bode
,
lady
?
Hark
,
canst
thou
hear
me
?
I
will
play
the
swan
And
die
in
music
.
She
sings
.
Willow
,
willow
,
willow
.
Moor
,
she
was
chaste
.
She
loved
thee
,
cruel
Moor
.
So
come
my
soul
to
bliss
,
as
I
speak
true
.
So
speaking
as
I
think
,
alas
,
I
die
.
She
dies
.
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
.
,
within
If
thou
attempt
it
,
it
will
cost
thee
dear
;
Thou
hast
no
weapon
and
perforce
must
suffer
.
Look
in
upon
me
,
then
,
and
speak
with
me
,
Or
naked
as
I
am
I
will
assault
thee
.
Enter
Gratiano
.
What
is
the
matter
?
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
weaponed
.
Here
is
my
journey’s
end
,
here
is
my
butt
And
very
sea-mark
of
my
utmost
sail
.
Do
you
go
back
dismayed
?
’Tis
a
lost
fear
.
Man
but
a
rush
against
Othello’s
breast
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
And
he
retires
.
Where
should
Othello
go
?
He
looks
toward
the
bed
.
Now
,
how
dost
thou
look
now
?
O
ill-starred
wench
,
Pale
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
.
—
O
cursèd
,
cursèd
slave
!
—
Whip
me
,
you
devils
,
From
the
possession
of
this
heavenly
sight
!
Blow
me
about
in
winds
,
roast
me
in
sulfur
,
Wash
me
in
steep-down
gulfs
of
liquid
fire
!
O
Desdemon
!
Dead
,
Desdemon
!
Dead
!
O
,
O
!
Enter
Lodovico
,
Cassio
in
a
chair
,
Montano
,
and
Iago
,
with
Officers
.
Where
is
this
rash
and
most
unfortunate
man
?
That’s
he
that
was
Othello
.
Here
I
am
.
Where
is
that
viper
?
Bring
the
villain
forth
.
Iago
is
brought
forward
.
I
look
down
towards
his
feet
;
but
that’s
a
fable
.
—
If
that
thou
be’st
a
devil
,
I
cannot
kill
thee
.
He
stabs
Iago
.
Wrench
his
sword
from
him
.
Othello
is
disarmed
.
I
bleed
,
sir
,
but
not
killed
.
I
am
not
sorry
neither
.
I’d
have
thee
live
,
For
in
my
sense
’tis
happiness
to
die
.
O
thou
Othello
,
that
wert
once
so
good
,
Fall’n
in
the
practice
of
a
damnèd
slave
,
What
shall
be
said
to
thee
?
ACT 5. SC. 2
Why
,
anything
.
An
honorable
murderer
,
if
you
will
,
For
naught
I
did
in
hate
,
but
all
in
honor
.
This
wretch
hath
part
confessed
his
villainy
.
Did
you
and
he
consent
in
Cassio’s
death
?
Ay
.
Dear
general
,
I
never
gave
you
cause
.
I
do
believe
it
,
and
I
ask
your
pardon
.
Will
you
,
I
pray
,
demand
that
demi-devil
Why
he
hath
thus
ensnared
my
soul
and
body
?
Demand
me
nothing
.
What
you
know
,
you
know
.
From
this
time
forth
I
never
will
speak
word
.
What
?
Not
to
pray
?
Torments
will
ope
your
lips
.
Well
,
thou
dost
best
.
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
.
He
shows
papers
.
The
one
of
them
imports
The
death
of
Cassio
,
to
be
undertook
By
Roderigo
.
O
villain
!
Most
heathenish
and
most
gross
.
Now
here’s
another
discontented
paper
Found
in
his
pocket
,
too
;
and
this
it
seems
Roderigo
meant
t’
have
sent
this
damnèd
villain
,
But
that
,
belike
,
Iago
in
the
interim
Came
in
and
satisfied
him
.
O
,
thou
pernicious
caitiff
!
—
ACT 5. SC. 2
How
came
you
,
Cassio
,
by
that
handkerchief
That
was
my
wife’s
?
I
found
it
in
my
chamber
.
And
he
himself
confessed
it
but
even
now
,
That
there
he
dropped
it
for
a
special
purpose
Which
wrought
to
his
desire
.
O
fool
,
fool
,
fool
!
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
.
,
to
Othello
You
must
forsake
this
room
and
go
with
us
.
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
away
.
Soft
you
.
A
word
or
two
before
you
go
.
I
have
done
the
state
some
service
,
and
they
know
’t
.
No
more
of
that
.
I
pray
you
in
your
letters
,
When
you
shall
these
unlucky
deeds
relate
,
Speak
of
me
as
I
am
.
Nothing
extenuate
,
Nor
set
down
aught
in
malice
.
Then
must
you
speak
Of
one
that
loved
not
wisely
,
but
too
well
;
Of
one
not
easily
jealous
,
but
being
wrought
,
Perplexed
in
the
extreme
;
of
one
whose
hand
,
Like
the
base
Judean
,
threw
a
pearl
away
Richer
than
all
his
tribe
;
of
one
whose
subdued
eyes
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
Albeit
unused
to
the
melting
mood
,
Drops
tears
as
fast
as
the
Arabian
trees
Their
medicinable
gum
.
Set
you
down
this
.
And
say
besides
,
that
in
Aleppo
once
,
Where
a
malignant
and
a
turbanned
Turk
Beat
a
Venetian
and
traduced
the
state
,
I
took
by
th’
throat
the
circumcisèd
dog
,
And
smote
him
,
thus
.
He
stabs
himself
.
O
bloody
period
!
All
that
is
spoke
is
marred
.
,
to
Desdemona
I
kissed
thee
ere
I
killed
thee
.
No
way
but
this
,
Killing
myself
,
to
die
upon
a
kiss
.
He
dies
.
This
did
I
fear
,
but
thought
he
had
no
weapon
,
For
he
was
great
of
heart
.
,
to
Iago
O
Spartan
dog
,
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
Cassio
.
To
you
,
lord
governor
,
Remains
the
censure
of
this
hellish
villain
.
The
time
,
the
place
,
the
torture
,
O
,
enforce
it
.
Myself
will
straight
aboard
,
and
to
the
state
This
heavy
act
with
heavy
heart
relate
.
They
exit
.
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