DESDEMONA
Tonight, my lord?
DUKE
This night.
OTHELLO
With all my heart.
DUKE
At nine i’th’ morning here we’ll meet again.
Othello, leave some officer behind,
And he shall our commission bring to you,
And such things else of quality and respect
As doth import you.
OTHELLO
So please your grace, my ensign.
A man he is of honesty and trust.
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good grace shall think
To be sent after me.
DUKE
Let it be so.
Good night to everyone. (To Brabanzio) And, noble
signor,
If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
A SENATOR
Adieu, brave Moor. Use Desdemona well.
BRABANZIO
Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see.
She has deceived her father, and may thee.
Exeunt Duke, Brabanzio, Cassio, Senators, and officers
OTHELLO
My life upon her faith. Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee.
I prithee let thy wife attend on her,
And bring them after in the best advantage.
Come, Desdemona. I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matter and direction
To spend with thee. We must obey the time.
Exeunt Othello and Desdemona
RODERIGO Iago.
IAGO What sayst thou, noble heart?
RODERIGO What will I do, think’st thou?
IAGO Why, go to bed and sleep.
RODERIGO I will incontinently drown myself.
IAGO If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou silly gentleman!
RODERIGO It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
IAGO O, villainous! I ha’ 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.
RODERIGO What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
IAGO Virtue? A fig! ’Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners; so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the beam of our lives had not one scale of reason to peise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions. But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect or scion.
RODERIGO It cannot be.
IAGO It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness. I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse. Follow thou the wars, defeat thy favour with an usurped beard. I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be long that Desdemona should 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—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 super-subtle Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox o’ 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.
RODERIGO Wilt thou be fast to my hopes if I depend on the issue?
IAGO Thou art sure of me. Go, make money. I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor. My cause is hearted, thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him. If thou canst cuckold him, 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.
RODERIGO
Where shall we meet i’th’ morning?
IAGO At my lodging.
RODERIGO
I’ll be with thee betimes.
IAGO Go to, farewell—
Do you hear, Roderigo?
RODERIGO
I’ll sell all my land.
Exit
IAGO
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
He has done my office. I know not if’t be true,
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do as if for surety. He holds me well:
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio’s a proper man. Let me see now,
To get his place, and to plume up my will
In double knavery—how, how? Let’s see.
After some time to abuse Othello’s ears
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 ha’t. It is ingendered. Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light.
Exit
2.1 Enter below Montano, Governor of Cyprus; two other gentlemen ⌈above⌉
MONTANO
What from the cape can you discern at sea?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
Nothing at all. It is a high-wrought flood.
I cannot ’twixt the heaven and the main
Descry a sail.
MONTANO
Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land.
A fuller blast ne’er shook our battlements.
If it ha’ ruffianed so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?
SECOND GENTLEMAN
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.
MONTANO
If that the Turkish fleet
Be not ensheltered and embayed, they are drowned.
It is impossible to bear it out.
Enter a third Gentleman
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 se
en a grievous wrack and sufferance
On most part of their fleet.
MONTANO How, is this true?
THIRD GENTLEMAN The ship is here put in,
A Veronessa. 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.
MONTANO
I am glad on’t; ’tis a worthy governor.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
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.
MONTANO
Pray heavens he be,
For I have served him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let’s to the sea-side, ho!—
As well to see the vessel that’s come in
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and th’aerial blue
An indistinct regard.
THIRD GENTLEMAN
Come, let’s do so,
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
Enter Cassio
CASSIO
Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle
That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him On a dangerous sea.
MONTANO Is he well shipped?
CASSIO
His barque is stoutly timbered, and his pilot
Of very expert and approved allowance.
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.
VOICES (within)
A sail, a sail, a sail!
CASSIO What noise?
A GENTLEMAN
The town is empty. On the brow o‘th’ sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry ‘A sail!’
CASSIO
My hopes do shape him for the governor.
A shot
A GENTLEMAN
They do discharge their shot of courtesy—
Our friends, at least.
CASSIO I pray you, sir, go forth,
And give us truth who ’tis that is arrived.
A GENTLEMAN I shall.
Exit
MONTANO
But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?
CASSIO
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 engineer.
Enter Gentleman
How now, who has put in?
GENTLEMAN
’Tis one Iago, ensign to the general.
CASSIO
He’s had most favourable and happy speed.
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The guttered rocks and congregated sands,
Traitors ensteeped to enclog the guiltless keel,
As having sense of beauty do omit
Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.
MONTANO
What is she?
CASSIO
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, Emilia, and Roderigo
O, behold,
The riches of the ship is come on shore!
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Montano and the Gentlemen make curtsy to Desdemona
Hail to thee, lady, and the grace of heaven
Before, behind thee, and on every hand
Enwheel thee round!
DESDEMONA
I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me of my lord?
CASSIO
He is not yet arrived, nor know I aught
But that he’s well and will be shortly here.
DESDEMONA
O, but I fear—how lost you company?
CASSIO
The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship.
VOICES (within) A sail, a sail!
CASSIO But hark, a sail.
A shot
A GENTLEMAN
They give their greeting to the citadel.
This likewise is a friend.
CASSIO
See for the news.
Exit Gentleman
Good ensign, you are welcome. (Kissing Emilia)
Welcome, mistress.
Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
That I extend my manners. ’Tis my breeding
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.
IAGO
Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You would have enough.
DESDEMONA Alas, she has no speech!
IAGO In faith, too much.
I find it still when I ha’ leave to sleep.
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.
EMILIA
You ha’ little cause to say so.
IAGO
Come on, come on. You are pictures out of door,
Bells in your parlours; wildcats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries; devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and hussies in your beds.
DESDEMONA
O, fie upon thee, slanderer!
IAGO
Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk.
You rise to play and go to bed to work.
EMILIA
You shall not write my praise.
IAGO No, let me not.
DESDEMONA
What wouldst write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?
IAGO
O, gentle lady, do not put me to’t,
For I am nothing if not critical.
DESDEMONA
Come on, essay—there’s one gone to the harbour?
IAGO Ay, madam.
DESDEMONA
I am not merry, but I do beguile
The thing I am by seeming otherwise.
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
IAGO
I am about it, but indeed my invention
Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frieze—
It plucks out brains and all. But my muse labours,
And thus she is delivered:
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one’s for use, the other useth it.
DESDEMONA Well praised! How if she be black and witty?
IAGO
If she be black and thereto have a wit,
She’ll find a white that shall her blackness fit.
DESDEMONA
Worse and worse.
EMILIA
How if fair and foolish?
IAGO
She never yet was foolish that was fair,
For even her folly helped her to an heir.
DESDEMONA These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools laugh i’th’ alehouse.
What miserable praise hast thou for her
That’s foul and foolish?
IAGO
There’s none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks whic
h fair and wise ones do.
DESDEMONA O heavy ignorance! Thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed—one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?
IAGO
She that was ever fair and never proud,
Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
Never 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 wights were—
DESDEMONA To do what?
IAGO
To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.
DESDEMONA 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 counsellor?
CASSIO He speaks home, madam. You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar.
Cassio and Desdemona talk apart
IAGO (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 curtsy, ’tis so indeed; yet again your fingers to your lips? Would they were clyster-pipes for your sake.
Trumpets within
(Aloud) The Moor—I know his trumpet.
CASSIO ’Tis truly so.
DESDEMONA
Let’s meet him and receive him.
CASSIO Lo where he comes!
Enter Othello and attendants
OTHELLO (to Desdemona)
O my fair warrior!
DESDEMONA My dear Othello.
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 labouring barque 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
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 285
