The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice

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There was once in venice

a moor othello who for

his merits in the affairs of war

was held in great esteem.

It happened that he fell in love

with a young and noble lady

called desdemona,

who drawn by his virtue,

became equally enamoured of him.

So it was that since her father

was much opposed to the union

of desdemona with a moor,

she fled her house at night.

In secret haste

they were married.

Now there was in othello's

company, an ensign named lago,

a very amiable outward appearance

but his character was

extremely treacherous.

I have told often and

i retell it again and again.

I hate the moore.

I'll poison his delight.

How? How, lago?

Proclaim him in the streets,

incense her kinsmen,

and though he in fertile climate

dwell, plague him with flies.

No, they come.

What will i do?

Why, go to bed and sleep.

- I'll incontinently drown myself.

Oh, bitterness.

What should i do?

Put money in thy purse.

Ere i would say i would drown

myself for love of a guinea

hen, i would change my

humanity with a baboon!

Come, be a man.

Drown thyself?

Drown cats and blind puppies.

It cannot be that desdemona

should long continue her love

to the moor or he his to her.

It was a violent commencement.

And thou shalt see an answerable

sequestration,

put buy money in thy purse.

When she is sated with his body

she'll fine the error

of her choice.

She must change, she must,

for youth.

Your daughter!

- Look, your house!

- Your house!

- Your daughter!

- Your daughter!

Senior, is all your family

within?

Why, wherefore ask you this?

Lf't be your pleasure for your

dull watch o' th' night,

transported, with no worse nor

better guard but with a knave

of common hire, a gondolier,

to the gross clasps of a

lascivious moor.

This thou shalt answer!

Straight satisfy yourself, if she

be in your chamber or your house,

lago, can i depend on the issue?

Thou are sure of me.

Go, make money.

It is too true an evil.

Gone she is.

Is there not charms by which

the property of youth

and maidhood may be abused?

Call up all my people!

Raise my kindred!

Where is the moor?

Keep up your bright swords

for the dew'll rust them.

Oh, thou foul thief!

Where hast thou stowed

my daughter?

Hold your hands! Good signor,

where will you that i go to

answer this your charge?

To prison till fit time of law

and course of direct session

call thee to answer.

Now at the same hour, there

came messengers in haste

to the senate for there was

news that the turkish armies

were moving against the

venetian garrison in cyprus.

The senators, already raised

the net, elected the moor to the

commander of their troops.

And officers were searching

the town to apprise othello

of this honor

when lo, desdemona's old

father himself brings the moor

at sword's point to the council

chamber upon a charge of

working from desdemona with

unlawful enchant.

She was abused,

stolen from me and, ay,

corrupted by magic spells.

I'm very sorry for't.

If she in chains of magic were not

bound, whether a maid so tender,

fair and happy would ever have

to incur her general mock,

run from her father

to the sooty bosom of such a

fierce bat!

Damned as thou art,

thou hast enchanted her!

Othello, what in your own part

can you say to this?

Nothing but this is so!

Did you by indirect and forced

courses subdue and poison

this young maid of affection?

Most potent grave and

reverend signors,

my very noble and approved

good masters,

that i've taken away this old

man's daughter it's most true.

True i have married her.

The very head and front of my

offending has this extent,

no more.

Rude in my speech,

and little blessed with the soft

phrase of peace,

since these arms of mine had

seven years' pith till now some

nine moon wasted they

have used their dearest action

in the tented field and little

little of this great world can i

speak more than pertains

to feats of broil and battle.

And therefore little shall i grace

my cause in speaking of myself.

Yet by your gracious patience

i will round unvarnished tale

deliver of my whole course of love,

what drugs, what charms,

what conjuration and what

mighty magic, for such

proceedings am i charged withal

that i won his daughter.

Her father loved me, oft

invited me, still questioned me

the story of my life.

I ran it through even from my

boyish days wherein i speak of

the most disastrous chances

of moving accidents by flood

and fields of hair-breadth

scapes for the imminent

deadly breach.

Of being taken by insolent foe,

and sold to slavery,

of my redemption thence and

potency my travels history

wherein a venturous vast and

desert idle, rough quarries,

rocks and tills whose heads

touch heaven.

It was my head to speak.

Rest to hear, but desdemona

seriously inclined.

But still the house affairs would

draw her thence, which ever as

she could with haste dispatch,

come again and with a greedy

ear devour up my discourse.

I found good means to draw

from her a prayer of earnest

heart that i would all my

pilgrimage dilate, and often

did beguile her of her tears

when i did speak of some

distressed stroke of my use of it.

She gave me for my pains,

a world of sighs.

She swore, in faith: 'twas

strange, 'twas passing strange.

Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous

pitiful.

She wished she had not heard

it, yet she wished that

heaven made her such a man.

She thanked me, and bade me

if i had a friend that loved her

i should but teach him how to

tell my story

and that would woo her.

Upon this hint i spake,

she loved my for the dangers

i had passed,

and i loved her that she

did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft

i have used.

I think this tale would win

my daughter, too.

Come hither, desdemona.

Do you perceive in all this

noble company

where most owe you obedience?

My noble father, i do perceive

here a divided duty.

To you i am bound for life

and education.

My life and education both do

learn me how to respect you.

You are the lord of duty.

I am hitherto your daughter.

But here's my husband.

And so much duty as my

mother showed to you

preferring you before her father

so much i challenge that i

may profess,

due to the moor, my lord.

God be with you. I have done.

When remedies are past

the griefs are ended.

Please it your grace on to

the state affairs.

The turk with a most mighty

preparation makes for cyprus.

Othello, the fortitude of the

place is vast known to you.

You must away this morning.

With all my heart.

When we consider the importance

of cyprus to the turk, we must

not think the turk is so

unskillful to leave that latest

which concerns them first,

neglecting an attempt of ease and

gain to wake and wage a danger.

Look to her, moor

if thou hast eyes to see.

She has deceived her father

and may thee.

My life upon her faith!

Mark me with what violence

she first loved the moor

but for bragging and dealing

a fantastical lie.

Will she love him still for prating?

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