May 23, 2017

Longer Compressed Version of Shakespeare’s >Othello<, Originally Prepared for Students Attending a Production at the Guthrie

Shakespeare’s  The Tragedy of Othello:  The Moor of Venice

All original lines by William Shakespeare  

Compressed for students soon to attend a performance at the Guthrie

     

Gary Marvin Davison, Ph. D.                                       

Director, New Salem Educational Initiative

 

From Othello, Act I, Scene One                 [Venice.  A street.]

 

 

Iago:                      I am worth no worse a place.

                                But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,

                                Evades them with bombast circumstance…

                                ‘Certes,’ says he, ‘I have already chose my officer.’

.

                                Forsooth, a great arithmetician,

                                One Michael Cassio, a Florentine

                                That never set squadron in the field…

                                He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,

                                And I --- God bless the mark!---  his Moorship’s ancient. 

 

Roderigo:            I would not follow him then.

 

Othello:               I follow him to serve my own turn upon him.

                                We cannot be all masters, nor all masters

                                Cannot be follow’d.  You should mark…

                                In following him, I follow but myself. 

 

From Othello, Act I, Scene three                               [The Doge’s Palace]

 

Enter Duke [of Venice[ and Senators, set at a table with lights and attendants.

 

[Also entering during the scene:  Brabantio (Desdemona’s father), Othello, Cassio, Roderigo, Officers, Iago, and Desdemona].

 

Duke:    Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you

                Against the general enemy Ottoman.

 

                [To Brabantio]  I did not see you, good signior;

                Why, what’s the matter?

 

Brabantio:           My daughter! O my daughter!

 

All:                         Dead?

Brabantio:           Ay, to me.

                                She is abus’d, stol’n, and corrupted

                                By spells and medicines sought of mountebanks…

 

                                Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,

                                Your special mandate for the state affairs

                                Hath hither brought.

 

Duke [to Othello]:           What, in your part, can you

say to this?

 

Othello:               My very noble and approv’d good masters:

                                That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter ,

                                Is most true…

 

                                Her father lov’d me, oft invited me,

                                Still question’d me the story of my life

                                From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,

                                That I have pass’d.

                                I ran it through, even from my boyish days

                                To the very moment that he bade me tell it.

                               

                                Wherein I spake of disastrous chances,

                                Of moving accidents by flood and field,

                                Of hair-breadth ‘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 traveller’s history.

                                Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,

                                Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven,

                                And of Cannibals that each other eat,

                                The anthropophagi, and men whose heads

                                Do grow beneath their shoulders.  This to hear

would Desdemona seriously incline:  I did consent

And often did beguile her of her tears,

When I did speak of some distressful  stroke

That my youth had suffer’d.  My story being done,

She gave for my pains a world of sighs...

She wished that heaven had made her such a man…

And bade me, if I had a friend that lov’d her,

I should but teach him how to tell my story,

And that would woo her.  Upon this heat, I spake

She lov’d me for the dangers I had pass’d,

And I loved her that she did pity them.

This is the only witchcraft I have us’d.

Here comes the lady;  let her witness it.

 

 

Desdemona:      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.

 

Duke:                    The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for

                                Cyprus.  Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known

                                to you;  and though we have 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 glow of your new fortunes with this

                                more stubborn and boisterous expedition.

 

Othello:               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

                                These present wars against the Ottomites.

                                Most humbly therefore bending to your state,

I crave disposition for my wife.

Due reference of place and exhibition,

With such accommodation and besort

As levels with her breeding.

 

Desdemona:      My heart’s sudu’d

                                Even to the very quality of my lord.

                                I saw Othello’s visage in his mind,

                                And to his honors and his valiant parts

                                Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate…

                                Let me go with him.

 

Duke:                    Be it as you shall privately determine,

                                Either for her stay or going.  Th’ affair cries haste,

                                And speed must answer.  You must hence tonight.

 

Desdemona:      To-night, my lord?

 

Duke:                    This night.

 

Othello:               With all my heart.

                                                        

Duke:                    Let it be so.

                                Good night to every one. 

                                                                  

 

[To Brabantio]

 

And noble, signior,

                                If virtue no delighted beauty lack,

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

 

[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, Moor, and Desdemona]

 

Roderigo:            I will incontinently drown myself.

 

Iago:                      What says thou, noble heart? 

                                It cannot be that Desdemona

Should long love the Moor…

No more of drowning, do you hear? 

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.

 

Roderigo:            I am changed.

 

Iago:                      Go to; farewell.

 

                                                                                Exit   Roderigo.

 

                                Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;

                                For I mine own gain’d knowledge should profane,

                                If I would time expend with such a snipe

                                But for my sport and profit.

 

                                I hate the Moor.  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 t’ abuse Othello’s ear

                                That he is too familiar with his wife.

                                He has a person and a smooth dispose

                                To be suspected, fram’d to make women false;

                                The Moor a free and open nature too.

                                And will as tenderly be led by th’ nose

                                As asses are. 

                                I have’t!  Hell and night

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

 

                                                                                                Exit.

 

 

From Othello, Act II, Scene One                                [Famagusta, capital of Cyprus.  An open place near the quay]

 

                [Enter  Montano, Governor of Cyprus, and Cassio.]

 

Cassio:                  Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle,

                                That so approve the Moor  And let the heavens

                                Give him defence agains the elements,

For I have lost him at sea.

 

Montano:            Is he well-shipp’d?

 

Cassio:                  His back is stoutly timber’d, and his pilot

                                Of very expert and approv’d allowance:

                                Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,

                                Stand in bold cure.

 

                [Enter  Desdemona, Iago, Emilia, Roderigo, and attendants.]

 

Cassio:                  Hail to thee, lady! And the grace of heaven

                                Before, behind thee, and on every hand,

                                Enwheel thee round!

 

Desdemona:      I thank thee, valiant Cassio.

                                What tidings can you tell me of my lord?

 

Cassio:                  He is not yet arriv’d;  nor know I aught

                                But that he’s well, and will be shortly here…

                                But hark!  A sail.

                                                                                [Guns heard.]

 

                                [To Iago] Good ancient, you are welcome. 

 

[Kisses Emilia]  Welcome mistress.

 

                                [Enter   Othello and attendants]

 

Desdemona:                      My dear Othello.

 

Othello:               It gives me great wonder and content

                                To see you here before me.  O my soul’s joy

                                If after tempest come such calms,

                                May the winds blow till they have waken’d death!

                                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 to unknown fate.

Desdemona:      The heavens forbid

                                But that our loves and comforts should increase

                                Even as our days do grow.

 

Iago:                      [Aside] O you are well tun’d now,

                                But I’ll set down the pegs that make this music,

                                As honest as I am.

 

Othello:               Come, let us to the castle---

                                News, friends!  Our wars are done.  The Turks are drown’d.

                                How does my old acquaintance of the isle?

                                Honey, you shall be well-desired in Cyprus.

                                I have found great love amongst them.

                                Come, Desdemona!

                                Once more, well met in Cyprus!

 

[Exit  Othello and Desdemona, with all except Iago and Roderigo]. 

 

Iago [to Roderigo]:          Do meet me presently at the harbor… 

The lieutenant [Cassio] to-night watches on

The court of guard.  First, I must tell thee this:  Desdemona is

Directly in love with him [Cassio].

 

Roderigo:            With him?  ‘tis possible?

 

Iago:                      Let thy soul be instructed…  She first loved the

Moor but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies…

Now…  her delicate tenderness will find itself abused,

Begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor…

Now, sir, this granted, who

stands so eminently in the degree of this fortune as Cassio

does?  A knave very voluble, no farder conscionable than in

putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming for

the better compassing of his salt and hidden affections?

Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and hath all those

requisites in him that folly and green minds look after.

A pestilent knave, and the woman has found him completely.

 

Roderigo:            I cannot believe that in her.  She’s full of most blessed

                                condition.

 

Iago:                      Bless’d, fig’s end!  If she be blessed, she would never have loved the

                                Moor…  Sir, be ruled by me:  I have brought you from Venice.

                                Watch you tonight…  Do find some occasion to anger Cassio,

either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline,

or from what other cause you please which the time shall more

favorably minister.

 

                                Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply

With his truncheon may strike at you.  Provoke him that

he may, for even out of that then 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.

 

Roderigo:            I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity.

 

Iago:                      I warrant thee.  Meet me by and by at the citadel.  I

                                Must fetch [Othellos’s] necessaries ashore.  Farewell.

 

Roderigo:            Adieu.                  Exit.

 

Iago:                      If this poor trash of Venice, whom I thrash

                                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,

                                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 confus’d:

                                Knavery’s plain face is never seen till us’d.

 

From Othello, Act II, Scene Two                                [A street (still on the island of Cyprus)]

 

                Enter  Othello’s herald, with a proclamation.

 

Herald:                 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

                                what sport and revels his addiction leads him:  for besides

                                these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial.

 

From Othello, Act II, Scene Three                             [The ‘Court of Guard’ or Guard-post]

 

                Enter  Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.

 

Othello:               Good Michael, look you to the guard tonight.

                                Let’s teach ourselves that honorable stop,

                                Not to outsport discretion.

 

Cassio:                  Iago hath discretion what to do;

                                But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye

                                Will I look to’t.

Othello:               Iago is most honest.

                                Michael, good night.  To-morrow with your earliest

                                Let me have speech with you.

                                [To Desdemona]  Come, my dear love.

 

                                                                Exeunt Othello and Desdemona [and Attendants].

 

                                                                                Enter  Iago.

 

Iago:                      Come, lieutenant, I have a stoop of wine…

 

Cassio:                  Not to-night, good Iago.  I have very poor and unhappy

                                brains for drinking.  I could well wish courtesy would invent

                                Some other custom of entertainment.

 

Iago:                      O they are our friends.  But one cup.  I’ll drink

                                for you.

 

Cassio:                  I have drunk one cup to-night, and that was

                                craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation it makes

here.  I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not take my

weakness with any more.

 

Iago:                      What, man!  ‘tis a night of revels.  The gallants desire it.

 

Cassio:                  I’ll do it;  but it dislikes me.                        Exit.

 

 Iago:                     If I can fasten but one cup upon him,

                                With that which he hath drunk to-night already,

                                He’ll be as full of quarrel and offence

                                As my young mistress’ dog.  Now, my sick fool Roderigo,

                                Whom love hath turn’d almost the wrong side out,

                                To Desdemon;a hath to-night caroused

                                Potations pottle-deep…  Now, ‘mongst this flock of drunkards,

                                Am I to put Cassio in some action

                                That may offend the isle. 

 

Enter  Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen

[Boys following with wine (that they offer to Cassio and Montano)].

 

Cassio:                  ‘Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.

 

Montano:            Good faith, a little one.  Not past a pint, as I am a soldier.

 

                                                                                Enter  Roderigo

 

Iago:                      [Aside to him (Roderigo)]  How now, Roderigo?

                                Pray you, after the lieutenant.  Go!                         Exit  Roderigo.

Enter  Cassio, driving at Roderigo.

 

Cassio:                  Zounds!  You rogue, you rascal!

 

Iago:                      What’s the matter, lieutenant?

 

Cassio:                  A knave teach me my duty!  I’ll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

 

Roderigo:            Beat me? 

 

Cassio:                  Dost thou prate, rogue?                               [Stiking Roderigo.]

 

Montano:            [Staying him] Nay, good lieutenant.  I pray you,

                                sir, hold your hand.

 

Cassio:                  Let me go, sir, or I’ll knock you o’er the mazzard.

 

Montano:            Come, you’re drunk.

 

Cassio:                  Drunk!                                                  [They fight.]                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       ;

Iago:                      [aside to Roderigo]  Away, I say!  Go out, and cry a

mutiny.

 

                                Nay, good lieutenant!  God’s will, gentlemen!

                                Help, ho!  Lieutenant!  Sir Montano!  sir!

                                Help, masters!  Here’s a goodly watch indeed.!

 

Enter  Othello and Gentlemen, with weapons.

 

Othello:               What is the matter ere?

                                How came it, Michael, that you were thus forgot?

 

Cassio:                  I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.

 

Othello:               What!  In a town full of war,

                                Yet wild, the people’s hearts full of fear,

To manage private and domestic quarrels

                                In night, and on the court and guard of safety!

                                ‘Tis monstrous.  Iago, who began’t?

 

Iago:                      Touch me not so near.

                                I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth

                                Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;

                                Yet I persuade myself to speak the truth

Shall nothing wrong him.  Thus it is, general,

Montano and myself being in speech,

There comes a fellow crying for help,

And Cassio following him with determin’d sword

To execute upon him.  Sir, this gentleman [Montano]

Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause.

Myself the crying fellow did pursue…

When I came back, I found them close together,

At blow and thrust, even as they were

When you yourself did part them.

 

Othello:               I know, Iago,

                                Thy honesty and love doth mince the matter,

                                Making it light on Cassio.  Cassio, I love thee

                                But never more be officer of mine…  I’ll make thee an example.

 

                                    Enter   Desdemona, with others.

 

Desdemona:      What’s the matter?

 

Othello:               All’s well, now sweeting…

                                Come, Desdemona, ‘tis a soldier’s life,

                                To have their balmy slumbers wak’d with strife.

 

                                       Exit  Moor, Desdemona, and Attendants.

 

Iago;                      [To Cassio]  What, are you hurt, lieutenant?

 

Cassio:                  Ay, past all surgery.

 

Iago:                      Marry, God forbid!

 

Cassio:                  Reputation, reputation…  I have lost my reputation.

                                I have lost the immortal part, sir, of myself, and

                                What remains is bestial.  My reputation.  Iago, my reputation!

 

Iago:                      As I am an honest man, I thought you had received

                                some bodily wound…

                                What, man!  There are ways to recover the general

again…  sue to him again, and he is yours.

 

Cassio:                  It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to

                                the devil wrath.  One unperfectness shows me another, to make

                                me frankly despise myself. 

 

Iago:                      Come, you are too severe a moraler….  I could

heartily wish this had not befallen, but since it is as it is,

mend it for your good…

 

I’ll tell you what you shall do.  Our general’s wife is now the

general…  Confess yourself freely to her, importune her help

to put you to your place again.  She is of so free, so kind, so apt,

so blessed a disposition, that she holds it a vice in her goodness

not to do more than is requested.

 

Cassio:                  You advise me well…  and betimes in the morning will I

                                Beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me.  I am

                                Desperate of my fortunes if they check me here.

 

Iago:                      You are in the right.  Good night, lieutenant;  I must to the watch.

 

Cassio:                  Good night, honest Iago!                             Exit Cassio.

 

Iago:                      While this honest fool plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,

                                And she for him pleads 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 [Cassio] 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.

 

                                Two things are to be done:

                                My wife [Emilia] must move for Cassio to her mistress---

                                I’ll set her on---

                                Myself awhile to draw the Moor apart,

                                And find him jump when he may Cassio find

                                Soliciting his wife.  Ay, that’s the way,

                                Dull not the device by coldness and delay.

 

                                                                                Exit.

 

From Othello, Act III, Scene One              

 

[Enter Cassio with Musicians, who play as the Clown also enters.}

 

Cassio:                  Dost thou hear, honest friend?.

 

Clown:                  No, I hear not your honest friend, I hear you.

 

Cassio:                  Prithee, keep up thy quillets.  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.  Will you do that?

 

Clown:                  She is stirring.  If she will stir hither, I shall seem to

notify unto her.                               

 

                                                                [Enter Emilia.]

 

Emilia:                  Good morrow, good lieutenant.  I am sorry

For your displeasure, but all will soon be well.

The general and his wife are talking of it,

And she speaks for you stoutly.

 

Cassio:                  If you think fit, or that it may be done,

                                Give me advantage of some brief discourse

                                With Desdemona alone.

 

Emilia:                  Pray you, come in.

                                I will bestow you where you shall have time

                                To speak your bosom freely.

 

Cassio:                  I am much bound to you.

 

                                                                                Exeunt.

 

From Othello, Act III, Scene Two

 

                                                                [The garden of the Citadel]

 

                                                     Enter   Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia

 

Cassio:                  Bounteous madame,

                                Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,

                                He’s never anything but your true servant.

 

Desdemona:      O, sir.  I thank you.  You do love my lord.

                                You have known him long…

 

Cassio:                  Ay, but, lady…  I being absent and my place supplied,

                                My general will forget my love and service.

 

Desdemona:      Before Emilia here, I give my warrant of thy place. 

Assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I’ll perform it

To the last article.

 

                Enter Othello and Iago (at a distance).

 

Emilia:                  Madam, here comes my lord.

 

Cassio:                  Madam, I’ll take my leave.

 

                                                Exit Cassio.

 

Iago:                      Ha!  I like not that.

 

Othello:               What dost thou  say?

 

Iago:                      Nothing, my lord;  or if---  I know not what.

 

Othello:               Was that not Cassio parted with my wife?

 

Iago:                      Cassio, my lord?  No, sure.  I cannot think it,

                                That he would steal away so guilty-like,

                                Seeing you coming.

 

Desdemona:      How now, my lord!

                                I have been talking with a suitor here,

                                A man that languishes in your displeasure.

 

Othello:               Who is’t you mean?

 

Desdemona:      Why your lieutenant, Cassio.  Good my lord,

                                If I have grace or power to move you,

                                His present reconciliation take;

                                For if he not be 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.

 

Othello:               Not now, Desdemona.  Some other time.

 

Desdemona;      Tell me, Othellos, I wonder in my soul,

What you could ask me that I should deny…

 

Othello:               I will deny thee nothing.

                                Whereon, I do beseech thee grant me this,

                                To leave me but a little to myself.

 

Desdemona:      Shall I deny you?  No.

                                Emilia, come.  Be it as your fancies teach you.

                                What’er you be, I am obedient.

 

                                                Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.

 

Othello:               What dost thou think?

 

Iago:                      Think, my lord?

 

Othello:               When Cassio left my wife.  What didst not like?

 

Iago:                      Look to your wife.  Observe her well with Cassio.

                                She did deceive her father, marrying you---

                                but I am much to blame.

                                I humbly do beseech your pardon

                                For too much loving you.

 

Othello:               I am bound to you forever.

 

Iago:                      My lord, I’ll take my leave.

 

                                                                Exit.

 

                                                                Enter   Desdemona and Emilia                  

 

Desdemona:      How now, my dear Othello.

 

Othello:               I have a pain upon my forehead here.

 

Desdemona:      Let me bind your head;  within this hour

                                It will be well.

 

Othello:               Your napkin is too little.

 

                                                                [He puts the handkerdhief from him, and it drops.]

 

                                Let it alone.  Come, I’ll go in with you.

 

                                                                Exeunt  Othello and Desdemona

 

Emilia:                  I am glad I have found this napkin.

                                This was her first remembrance from the Moor.

                                My wayward husband hath a hundred times

                                Woo’d me to steal it.

                 

                                                                Enter   Iago.

                               

Iago:                      How now! What do you here alone?

 

Emilia:                  Do not chide.  I have a thing for you.

 

Iago:                      A thing for me?  It is a common thing---

 

Emilia:                  Ha!

 

Iago:                      To have a foolish wife.

 

Emilia:                  O, is that all?  What will you give me now

                                For that same handkerchief.          [Shows Iago the handkerchief.]

 

Iago:                      Oh, good wench!  give it me.  [Snatches it.]

                                                Exit Emilia.

 

                                                Enter Othello.

 

Othello:               Avaunt!  be gone!  Thou hast set me on the rack.

                                I swear ‘tis better to be much abus’d

                                Than but to know but little…

                                Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore…

                                Give me a reason she’s disloyal.

 

Iago:                      I do not like the office;

                                But sith I am enter’d in this cause so far

                                (Pricked to it by foolish honesty and love),

                                I will go on.  I lay with Cassio lately;

                                In sleep I heard him say, ‘Sweet Desdemona,

                                Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!’

 

Othello:               Oh, monstrous!  monstrous!

                                I’ll tear her to pieces!

 

Iago:                      Tell me this:

Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief

Spotted with strawberries in your wife’s hand?

         

Othello:               I gave her such a one.  ‘Twas my first gift.

 

Iago:                      I know not that;  but such a handkerchief

                                (I am sure it is your wife’s) did I to-day

                                See Cassio wipe his beard with.

 

Othello:               O that the slave had a 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.

 

                [Hisses contemptuously.]                                           

 

                                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.]

 

Iago:                      Do not rise yet.                                 [Kneels.]

                               

                                Witness you ever-burning lights above!

                                You elements that clip us round about!

                                Witness that here Iago doth give up

                                The execution of his wit, hands, heart,

                                To wrong’d Othello’s services!  Let him command,

                                And to obey shall be in me remorse.

 

                                                                                                [They rise.]

Othello:               I greet thy love…

                                Within these three days let me hear thee say

                                That Cassio’s not alive.

 

Iago:                      My friend is dead;  ‘tis done as you request.

                                But let her live.

 

Othello:               Damn her, lewd minx!  O, damn her!

                                Come, go with me apart.  I will withdraw

                                To finish me with some swift means of death

                                For the fair devil.  Now art my lieutenant.

 

Iago:                      I am your own for ever.

 

                                                                                [Exeunt.]

 

From Othello, Act III, Scene Four

 

Desdemona:      Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?

 

Emilia:                  I know not, madam.

 

Desdemona:      Believe me, I would rather have lost my purse

full of cruzadoes

 

Emilia:                  Look where he comes!

 

Desdemona:      I will not leave him till Cassio

                                Be call’d to him.

 

                                                                                Enter Othello                   

 

                                How is’t with you, my lord?

 

Othello:               How do you, Desdemona?

 

Desdemona:      Well my good lord.

 

Othello:               I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me.

                                Lend me your handkerchief.

 

Desdemona:      I have it not about me.

 

 

Othello:               That is a fault.

                                Make it a darling like your precious eye.

                                To lose or giv’t away were such perdition

                                As nothing else could match.

 

Desdemona:      is’t possible?

 

Othello:               Is’t lost?  Is’t gone?  Speak!  Is’t o’ of the way?

 

Desdemona:      I say, it is not lost.

 

Othello:               Fetch’t, let me see’t.

 

Desdemona:      Why I can, sir, but I will not now.

                                This is a trick to put me from my suit.

                                Pray you, let Cassio be receiv’d again.

 

Othello:               Fetch me that handkerchief!  My mind misgives.

 

Desdemona:      I pray, talk to me of Cassio…  A man that all his time

                                Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,

                                Shared you dangers with you,---

 

Othello:               The handkerchief.

                                                            

Desdemona:      I’faith, you are to blame.

 

Othello:               Zounds!                                               Exit Othello.

 

Emilia:                  Is not this man jealous?

 

Desdemona:      I ne’er saw this before.

                                Sure, there’s some wonder in the handkerchief.

                                I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

 

Emilia:                  ‘Tis not a year or two shows us a man.

                                They are all but stomachs, and we all but food.

                                They eat us hungrily, and when they are full

                                They belch us.

 

Dsedmona:         Something, sure, of state,

                                Either from Venice, or some unhatch’d practice

                                Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,

                                Hath puddled his clear spirit.

 

Emilia:                  Pray heaven it be state-manners, as you think,

                                And no conception, nor no jealous toy

                                Concerning you.

Desdemona:      Alas the day!  I never gave him cause.

 

Emilia:                  But jealous souls will not be answer’d so.

                                They are not ever jealous for the cause,

                                But jealous for they are jealous.

 

Desdemona:      Heaven keep that monster from Othello’s mind!

 

                                                                                Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.

 

                                                                                [Enter Cassio and Bianca (a Courtesan)]

 

Bianca:                 Save you, friend Cassio!

                                What, keep a week away?  seven days and nights?

 

Cassio:                  Pardon me, Bianca.

                                I have this while with leaden thoughts been press’d,

                                But I shall, in a more continuate time,

                                Strike off this score of absence.  Sweet Bianca,

                                                                                                [giving her the handkerchief]           

Take me this work out.

 

Bianca:                 Why, whose is it?

 

Cassio:                  I know not, sweet.  I found it in my chamber.

                                Take it…  I’ll see you soon.

 

Bianca:                 ‘Tis very good.                                  Exeunt.

 

From Othello, Act IV, Scene One

 

                                                Enter Bianca [as Cassio, Iago, and Othello are talking].

 

Bianca:                 What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me

even now?  I was a fine fool to take it.

 

Cassio:                  How now, my sweet Bianca?  how now? how now?

 

Othello:               By heaven, that shall be my handkerchief!

 

Bianca:                 An you’ll come to supper to-night, you may.  An you

                                Will not, come when you are next prepared for.

 

                                                [Exit Bianca, with Cassio running after her]

 

Othello:               [advancing]  How shall I murder him, Iago                                                          

 

Iago:                      Did you see the handkerchief?

Othello:               Was that mine?

 

Iago:                      Yours, by his hand.  And to see how he prizes

                                The foolish woman your wife!  She gave it him, and he hath given

                                It his whore!

 

Othello:               Get me some poison, Iago, this night.  I’ll not

                                Expostulate with her, lest her body and her beauty unprovide my

                                Mind again.  This night, Iago.

 

Othello:               Excellent good.

 

Iago:                      Do it not with poison.  Strangle her in her bed, even

                                The bed that she hath contaminzted.

 

Othello:               Good, good.  The justice of it pleases.  Very good.

 

Iago:                      And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker.

                               

                                                                                Exit Othello.

 

From Othello, Act IV, Scene Two

 

                                                                                Enter Roderigo.               

 

Iago:                      Sir, there is a special commission from Venice

                                To depute Cassio in Othello’s place…

 

Roderiga:            It that true?  Why, then Othello and Desdemona return

again to Venice.

 

Iago:                      O, no!  [Othello] 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.          

 

Roderigo:            How do you mean, removing of him?

 

Iago:                      Why, by making him uncapable of Othello’s place.

                                Knocking out his brains.        

 

Roderigo:            And that you would have me do?

 

Iago:                      Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and right…

                                Come, stand not amazed by 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.

 

Roderigo:            I will hear further reason for this.

 

Iago:                      And you shall be satisfied.

 

                                                                                                Exeunt.

 

From Othello, Act V, Scene One

 

                                                [A street of Cyprus}

 

                                                Enter   Iago and Roderigo.

 

Iago:                      Here, stand behind this bulk.  Straight will he come.

                                Wear thy rapier here, and put it home…  Be bold, and take thy stand.

 

                                                                                                                Retires.

 

Roderigo:            I have no great devotion to the deed.

                                And yet he has given me satisfying reasons.

 

                                                Enter Cassio.

 

Roderigo:            I know his gait:  ‘tis he.  Villain, thou diest.

 

                                                [Makes a pass at Cassio.]

 

Cassio:                  That thrust had been my enemy indeed

                                But that my coat is better than thou think’st.

                               

                                                [Draws, and wounds Roderigo.]

 

Roderigo:            O! I am slain!

 

                                    [Draws,  wounds Cassio in the leg, and exits.]

 

Cassio:                  I am maimed forever.  Light, ho!  Murder! Murder!

 

                                                [Falls.]

 

                                                Enter   Othello, at a distance

 

Othello:               The voice of Cassio.  Iago keeps his word…  O brave Iago, honest and just,

                                That hast such noble sense of thy friend’s wrong! 

                                Thou teachest me!  Strumpet, I come!                   [Exit Othello.]

 

                                                [Enter Iago, with a light.]

 

Cassio:                  Here, here!  For heaven’s sake, help me.

Iago:                      Oh, my lieutenant, what villains have done this?

 

Cassio:                  [indicating Roderigo]  That’s one of them.

 

Iago;                      O murderous slave!  O villain!                   [Stabs Roderigo.]

 

Roderigo:            O inhuman dog!               [Roderigo dies.]

 

Iago:                      He that lies slain here, Cassio,

Was my dear friend.  What malice was betwixt you?

 

Cassio:                  None in the world;  nor do I know the man.

 

Iago:                      O bear him out o’ the air.             [Cassio borne off (by onlookers)]

                                                                  

                                [Aside] This is the night

                                                That neither makes me or forbids me quite.      

 

                                                                                [Exit  Iago.]

 

From Othello, Act V, Scene Two

 

                                                [State Bedroom in the Citadel]

                                                Enter  Othello with a light, and Desdemona in her bed.

 

Desdemona:      Who’s there?  Othello?

 

Othello:               Ay…  have you prayed tonight, Desdemona.

 

Desdemona:      Ay, my lord.

 

Othello:               If you think yourself of any crime

                                Unreconcil’d as yet to heaven and grace,

                                Solicit for it straight…  I would not kill thy soul.

 

Desdemona:      Talk you of killing?

 

Othello:               Ay, I do.  That handkerchief which I so lov’d and gave thee

                                Thou gav’st to Cassio.

 

Desdemona:      No, by my life and soul!

                                                     

Othello:               By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand… 

                                Down, strumpet!            

 

                                                                [He stifles her.]

 

                                                                Enter   Emilia.

Desdemona:      O falsely, falsely murdered.

 

Emilia:                  O!  Who has done this deed?

 

Desdemona:      Nobody.  I myself.  Farewell!

                                Commend me to my kind lord.  O farewell!                        [She dies.]

 

Othello:               She’s like a liar gone to burning hell.

                                ‘Twas I who killed her…

                                She turned to folly, and she was a whore…

                                Thy husband knew it all.

 

Emilia:                  My husband?

 

Othello:               Ay, it was he who told me first.

                                An honest man he is, and hates the slime

                                That sticks on filthy deeds.

               

                                                                [Enter  Iago and others.]

                               

Emilia:                  Disprove this villain if thou be’st a man:

                                He says thou told’st him that his wife was false.

                                Speak, for my heart is full.

 

Iago:                      I told him what I thought.

 

Emilia:                  But did you ever tell him she was false?

 

Iago;                      I did.

 

Emilia:                  You told a lie, an odious lie.                      

 

                                                                [Othello falls on the bed.]

 

Emilia:                  Nay, lay thee down and roar,

                                For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent

                                That e’er did lift up eye. 

 

Othello;               Tis pitiful but yet iago knows

That with Cassio she hath done the act of shame…

I saw it in his hand… 

It was the handkerchief, an antique token

My father gave my mother.

 

Emilia:                  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

                                He begg’d me to steal it.

Iago:                      Filth, thou liest!

 

Emilia:                  [To Othello]  What should such a fool do with so good a wife?

 

Othello:               Are there no stones in heaven

                                But what serves as the thunder?   Precious villain!

 

                                                The Moor runs at Iago.  Iago kills his wife

 

                                                                [Exit  Iago.]

 

Othello:               O Desdemona!  Desdemona! Dead!

 

[Enter Lodovico (noble Venetian and kinsman to Desdemona)],

Montano (Governor of Cyprus), Iago (as prisoner), and Officers.  Cassio in a chair.]

 

Lodovico:            Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?

 

Othello:               That’s he that was Othello.  Here I am. 

                                [To Iago]  If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee.  [Wounds Iago.]

 

Iago:                      I bleed, sir, but not kill’d.

 

Othello:               I am not sorry, neither.  I’d have thee live.

                                For in my sense ‘tis happiness to die.

 

Lodovic:               O thou Othello that wert once so good.

                                What shall be said of thee?

This wretch hath part confessed his villainy.

Did you and he consent in Cassio’s death?

 

Othello:               Ay.

 

Cassio:                  Dear general, I did never give you cause.

 

Othello:               I do believe it, and I ask you pardon.

                                Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devl

                                Why he hath thus ensnar’d my soul and body.

 

Iago:                      Demand me nothing.  What you know, you know.

                                From this time forth I never will speak word.

 

Lodovico:            [To Othello]       You must forsake this room and go with us.

                                Your power and your command is taken off,

And Cassio rules in Cyprus.

 

 

 

Othello:               Soft you.  A word or two before you go.

                                When you these unlucky deeds relate,

                                Speak of them as they are.  Nothing extenuate,

                                Nor set down aught in malice.  Thus must you speak

                                Of one that lov’d not wisely but too well,

                                Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,

                                Perplex’d in the extreme. of one whose hand…

                                Threw a pearl away

                                Richer than all his tribe, of one whose subdu’d eyes,

                                Albeit unused to the melting mood,

                                Drops tears as fast as the Arabian trees

                                Their med’cinable gum.  Set you down this,

                                And say besides, that in Aleppo once,

                                Where a malignant and turban’d Turk

                                Beat a Venetian and traduc’d the state,

                                I took by the throat the circumcised dog,

                                And smote him thus.

 

                                                                He stabs himself.

 

                                I kiss’d thee ere I killed thee.  No way but this.

                                Killing myself to die upon a kiss.

 

                                                                He dies.

 

Cassio:                  This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon,

                                For he was great of heart.

 

Lodovio:              [To Iago]  O Spartan dog,

                                More felt than anguish, hunger, or the sea,

                                Look on this tragic loading of the 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 to you.  To you, lord governor,

                                Remains the censure of this hellish villain,

                                The time and place, the torture, O, enforce it!

                                Myself will straight aboard, and to the state

                                This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

 

                                                                [Exeunt  omnes]             

 

 

                                 Finis

 

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