THE TRAGEDY OF

OTHELLO, THE MOOR

OF VENICE

IX : A

OTHELLO: A NOBLE MOOR IN THE SERVICE OF THE

VENETIAN STATE.

CASSIO: HIS LIEUTENANT.

IAGO: HIS ANCIENT.

RODERIGO: A VENETIAN GENTLEMAN.

MONTANO: OTHELLO'S PREDECESSOR IN THE GOVERN

MENT OF CYPRUS.

CLOWN SERVANT TO OTHELLO.

DESDEMONA: DAUGHTER TO BRABANTIO AND WIFE

TO OTHELLO.

EMILIA: WIFE TO IAGO.

BIANCA: MISTRESS TO CASSIO.

SAILOR, MESSENGER, HERALD, OFFICERS, GENTLEMEN, MUSICIANS, ATTENDANTS.

SCENE-Venice; a Seaport in Cyprus.

THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO

THE MOOR OF VENICE

ACT I

SCENE I. Venice. A Street.

Enter RODERIGO and IAGO.

ROD. Tush, never tell me; I take it much unkindly
That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse

As if the strings were thine, should'st know of this.
IAGO. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me !

If ever I did dream of such a matter,

Abhor me.

ROD. Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy
hate.

IAGO. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of

the City,

In personal suit to make me his Lieutenant,
Off-capp'd to him; and, by the faith of man,

I know my price, I am worth no worse a place :
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion, nonsuits my mediators;
For, Certes, says he, I have already chose
My officer. And what was he?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,

A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife ;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 toged consuls can propose

1 i.e. very near being married.

ΤΟ

20

ACT I
Sc. I

As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, Sir, had the election:
And I (of whom his eyes had seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds
Christian and heathen) must be be-lee'd and calm'd
By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,
He, in good time, must his Lieutenant be,

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And I (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's Ancient.1
ROD. By Heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.
IAGO. Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,
Preferment goes by letter and affection,

And not by old gradation, where each second
Stood heir to the first. Now, Sir, be judge yourself,
Whether I in any just term am affin'd

To love the Moor.

ROD.

I would not follow him, then.

IAGO. O, Sir, content you ;

I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doating on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,

For nought but provender; and, when he's old,
cashier'd:

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Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are,
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And, throwing but shows of service on their Lords,
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd
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

1 Ensign, Standard-bearer.

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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.
ROD. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,
If he can carry 't thus!

IAGO.

Call up her father,

Rouse him. Make after him, poison his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen :
And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies; though that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such changes of vexation on 't,

As it may lose some colour.

ROD. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.
IAGO. Do; with like timorous accent and dire yell
As when, by night and negligence, the fire

Is spied in populous cities.

ROD. What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!

70

IAGO. Awake! what ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves!
thieves!

Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags!
Thieves! thieves!

BRABANTIO appears above, at a window.

BRA. What is the reason of this terrible summons?

What is the matter there?

ROD. Signior, is all your family within ?

IAGO. Are your doors lock'd?

BRA.

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Why, wherefore ask you this?

IAGO. 'Zounds, Sir, you're robb'd! for shame, put on

your gown!

Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul:

Even now, now, very now, an old black ram

Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise!
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
Or else the Devil will make a grandsire of you.
Arise, I say.

BRA.

What, have you lost your wits?
ROD. Most reverend Signior, do you know my voice?

BRA. Not I: what are you?

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ACT I
Sc. I

ROD. My name is Roderigo.