If anyone trying to be has put this thought into alone? Have your head, a snake should they sent strike him! Let me look into I can see your anger, sir, your eyes. I am your demona came loyal wife. Desdemona in love with been to could no longer reach him another man?
I no longer have the husband I once had. Please call Iago, Emilia. I would like to talk with him. Good lady, what is the matter with your husband? Othello has But when Iago What is the came, Desdemona matter, lady?
He is very angry. Have I been untrue in any way, Iago? Do not weep, do not How Perhaps O good Iago, what weep! Of course not! Please order to the chance to go to him for me! She gave has done them all up to this awful marry Othello! And now he calls her unfaithful! Ah, I hear the trumpets calling you to supper. Go and eat. I will make everything well again! When Desdemona and Iago, I do not think you are being fair. I am going to see her myself. You have taken all my jewels as well as my money.
You said you gave the jewels to Desdemona, but I have had no word from her. I want my jewels back! Not that I can see! I think the Well, you must better of you for it.
It will take courage! Cassio must be killed—otherwise will take his place here. Desdemona will be Othello will bring Desde- lost to you. And mona with him if he goes. You are most I humbly thank you. Gentlemen, I will walk a little way with you.
Desdemona, go right to bed. I will be up a little later. Later, in the bedroom, Desdemo- Ah, but I still love him. Good na spoke with Emilia. Help me with my things, Emilia, and then leave. Othello has ordered it, and we must not displease him. I wish you had never seen him! But whether he kills Cassio or Cassio kills Stand behind this wall Stay near and keep your sword him—or they kill each me in case I ready. Fear nothing, and other, I will gain. If Cassio lives, he will find out about me and tell Othello.
He must die! Here he comes! That missed me, Die, Cassio! But instead. Now I am hurt! Iago has kept his word. Now I must keep my promise came by on his way back to the to kill Desdemona. They had been drawn to the same spot by cries of Cassio and Roderigo. Iago came forth as though he had just arrived.
Iago, please help me! I have been stabbed. One of the men who did it is nearby and is also hurt. Cassio, do you Who are these people who kill men in the dark?
Wake the townspeople! Who calls know who tried murder? Oh, my dear This woman Cassio! Cassio must be carried away to be Men, carry him carefully! Cassio, taken care of. But good heavens! I know him Not at all. Cassio was attacked in the dark by Roderigo. Cassio is hurt, and earlier? Answer, woman!
Cassio was at my house, but I am an honest woman. I have done nothing wrong. Roderigo is dead! Emilia, run to the This is the night that castle and tell either solves my Othello what has problems or kills me happened? But While all this I will not shed your blood, was taking for you are too beautiful for place outside that. Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona? Are you going to kill me? My only sin is that of loving you If you want to too much.
I would not handkerchief I gave want to kill your you? You gave it to soul! I did not! Send for the man and Send for him! But I saw the handkerchief in his hand. He also bragged He is dead! Iago has taken that you loved him! Let me live tonight. Or at least give me more time to pray!
No, this is the end. I dare not wait any longer. General Othello! What noise is that? Sir, I must speak a word with you! That is Emilia. I must the door. I pray you, sir, go forth, And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived. I shall. 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 the essential vesture of creation Does tire the ingener. Has had most favourable and happy speed: Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands— Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,— 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 se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard, And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits And bring all Cyprus comfort!
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. Hail to thee, lady! I thank you, valiant Cassio. What tidings can you tell me 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? The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship—But, hark! They give their greeting to the citadel; This likewise is a friend.
See for the news. 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'll 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 doors, Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens, Saints m your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives' in your beds. O, 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. No, let me not. What wouldst thou 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 harbour? Ay, madam. 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 frize; It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours, And thus she is deliver'd. If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, 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 fit. Worse and worse. How if fair and foolish? She never yet was foolish that was fair; For even her folly help'd her to an heir.
These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i' the 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. O heavy ignorance! 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 lack'd gold and yet went never gay, Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,' She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh, Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly, She that in wisdom never was so frail To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail; She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind, See suitors following and not look behind, She was a wight, if ever such wight were,— Desdemona.
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?
He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar. 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!
Yet again your fingers to your lips? I know his trumpet. Let's meet him and receive him. Lo, where he comes! 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! And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-high and duck again as low As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, 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: And this, and this, the greatest discords be [Kissing her] That e'er our hearts shall make!
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 drown'd. How does my old acquaintance of this isle? 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. Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come hither. If thou be'st valiant,— as, they say, base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them—list me.
The lieutenant tonight watches on the court of guard:—first, I must tell thee this—Desdemona is directly in love with him. With him! 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? Her eye must be fed; and what delight shall she have to look on the devil?
When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour, sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct her in it and compel her to some second choice.
Now, sir, this granted,—as it is a most pregnant and unforced position—who stands so eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio does? 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! Blessed pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? 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. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night; for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows you not. I'll not be far from you: do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favourably minister.
Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the 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 I can bring it to any opportunity. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel: I must fetch his necessaries ashore. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit: The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband.
Now, I do love her too; Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a sin, But partly led to diet my revenge, For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards; And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife, Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgment cannot cure.
Which thing to do, If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb— For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too— Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.
For making him egregiously an ass And practising upon his peace and quiet Even to madness. 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 addiction leads him: for, besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial.
So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!
Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night: Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop, Not to outsport discretion. Iago hath direction what to do; But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye Will I look to't. Iago is most honest. Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest Let me have speech with you. Good night.
Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch. Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for Jove. She's a most exquisite lady. And, I'll warrant her, fun of game.
Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature. What an eye she has! 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 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. O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for you. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.
What, man! Where are they? Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. I'll do't; but it dislikes me. 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 Desdemona hath to-night caroused Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch: Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honours in a wary distance, The very elements of this warlike isle, Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups, And they watch too.
Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards, Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle. Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier. Some wine, ho! Some wine, boys! I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander—Drink, ho! Is your Englishman so expert 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! He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree: 'Tis pride that pulls the country down; Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
Why, 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. It's true, good lieutenant. For mine own part,—no offence 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. Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left: I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough.
Excellent well. Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk. To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch. You see this fellow that is gone before; He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar And give direction: and do but see his vice; 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him. On some odd time of his infirmity, Will shake this island. But is he often thus? 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?
I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft infirmity: It were an honest action to say So to the Moor. Not I, for this fair island: I do love Cassio well; and would do much To cure him of this evil—But, hark!
You rogue! 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? Nay, good lieutenant; [Staying him] I pray you, sir, hold your hand. Let me go, sir, Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. Come, come, you're drunk. The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold! What is the matter here? Hold, for your lives! Hold, ho! Lieutenant,—sir—Montano,—gentlemen,— Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? Why, how now, ho! 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.
What is the matter, masters? Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving, Speak, who began this? I do not know: friends all but now, even now, In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom Devesting them for bed; and then, 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! 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?
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: if I once stir, Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke.
Give me to know How this foul rout began, who set it on; And he that is approved in this offence, Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, Shall lose me. Iago, who began't? 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 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 out for help: And Cassio following him with determined sword, To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause: Myself the crying fellow did pursue, Lest by his clamour—as it so fell out— The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot, Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night I ne'er might say before.
When I came back— For this was brief—I found them close together, At blow and thrust; even as again they were When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report: 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 never more be officer of mine. I'll make thee an example. What's the matter? All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed. Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon: Lead him off.
Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? Ay, past all surgery. Marry, heaven 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.
I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. 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!
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 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! I'll tell you what you shall do.
Our general's wife is now the general: 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 cheque me here.
You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must to the watch. Signior Brabantio, ho! IAGO Awake! Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!
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 and grievance The law, with all his might to enforce it on, Will give him cable. But, look! Is it they? First Senator Indeed, they are disproportion'd; My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.
Second Senator 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. Sailor [Within] What, ho! First Officer A messenger from the galleys. Enter a Sailor. A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.
First Gentleman Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood; I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main, Descry a sail. Home Downloads Free Downloads Othello pdf. Read Online Download. Great book, Othello pdf is enough to raise the goose bumps alone.
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