The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice Page #5

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and be damned.

No, my heart is turned to stone.

I strike it and it hurts my hand.

O, the world hath not a

sweeter creature!

She might lie by an emperor's

side and command him tasks.

Nay, that's not your way.

Hang her! I do but say

what she is.

So delicate with her needle.

An admirable musician.

O, she will sing the savageness

out of a bear.

Of so high and plenteous

wit and invention

she's the worse for all this.

O, a thousand, a thousand

times.

Of so gentle a condition?

Ay, too gentle.

Nay, that's certain.

Yet the pity of it, lago.

O lago, the pity of it, lago.

I will chop her into messes!

Cuckold me!

- Will you think so?

- Think so, lago?

- What, to kiss in private?

- An unauthorized kiss?

Or to be naked with her

friend in bed an hour or more

not meaning any harm.

Naked in bed?

But if i give my wife

a handkerchief

what then?

Why, then 'tis hers, my lord,

and being hers shy may,

i think, bestow't on any man.

By heaven, i would most

gladly have forgot it!

He had my handkerchief!

- Ay, what of that?

- That's not so good now.

What if i had said i had seen

him do you wrong?

- Or heard him say

- hath he said anything?

He hath, my lord, but

no more than

what hath he said?

That he did i know not what he did

what? What?

Lie.

Lie with her?

With her, on her, what you will.

Damnation!

My lord, i say, othello!

Dost thou mock me?

I mock you not, by heaven.

O now for ever farewell

the tranquil mind.

Farewell content.

Farewell the plumed troops,

and the big wars that make

ambition virtue. O farewell!

Farewell the neighing steed and

the shrill trump,

the spirit-stirring drum,

th'ear-piercing fife, the royal

banner, and all quality,

pride, pomp, and circumstance,

of glorious war.

And o you mortal engines

whose rude throats the immortal

jove's dread clamors

counterfeit.

Farewell! Othello's occupation's

gone!

- God save you, worthy general.

- Pray you.

The duke and the senators

of venice greet you.

I kiss the instrument of

their pleasures.

Is there division 'twixt my lord

and cassio?

A most unhappy one, i would

do much t' atome them,

for the love i bear to cassio.

My lord?

May be th' letter moved him,

for, i think, they do command

him home, deputing cassio

in his government.

- Trust me, i am glad on it.

- Indeed?

- Why, sweet othello

- devil! Out of my way!

I will not stay to offend you.

Truly an obedient lady.

I do beseech your lordship

call her back.

- Mistress!

- My lord!

What would you do with her, sir?

Who? I, my lord?

You did wish that i would make

her turn.

Sir, she can turn, and turn,

and yet go on and turn again,

and she can weep, sir, weep.

And she's obedient, as you say,

obedient. Very obedient.

Proceed you in your tears.

Concerning this, sir

o well-painted passion!

I am commanded home.

Get you away, i'll send

for you anon.

Sir, i obey the mandate and

will return to venice.

Cassio shall have my place.

You are welcome, sir,

to cyprus.

Goats and monkeys!

Is he not light of brain?

He's that he is.

Let me see your eyes.

Look in my face.

Why, what art thou?

Your wife, my lord.

Your true and loyal wife.

Had it pleased heaven to try me

with affliction, had they rained

all kinds of sores and shames

on my bare head, steeped me

in poverty to the very lips,

given to captivity me and

my utmost hopes.

I should have found in some

place of my soul a drop of patinece

but, alas, to make me the fixed

figure for the time of scorn

to point his slow and moving

finger at.

Yet could i bear that too, well,

very well.

But there where i have garnered

up my heart, where either

i must live or bear no life,

the fountain from the which my

current runs or else dries up,

to be discarded thence, or

keep it as a cistern for foul

toads to knot and gender in.

I hope my noble lord

esteems me honest.

O, ay, as summer flies are

in the shambles, that quicken

even with blowing.

O, thou weed, who art so

lovely fair, and smell'st so

sweet, that the sense aches

at thee, would thou hadst

never been born!

Alas, what ignorant sin

have i committed?

Committed? A thou public

commoner, i should make very

forges of my cheeks that would

to cinders burn up modestly.

Did i but speak thy deeds.

What committed?

Heaven stops the nose at it,

and the moon winks,

the bawdy wind that kisses all

it meets is hushed within the

hollow mine of earth and

will not hear't. What committed?

- Are not you a strumpet?

- By heaven you do me wrong!

- Are not you a strumpet?

- No, as i am a christian!

- Is't possible?

- O heaven forgive us!

I cry you mercy then.

I took you for that cunning

whore of venice that married with othello

how do you, madam?

How do you, my good lady?

Faith, half asleep.

Good madam, what's the

matter with my lord?

With who?

Why, with my lord, madam.

Who is thy lord?

He that is yours, sweet lady.

I have none. Do not talk

to me, emilia.

I cannot weep, nor answers have

i none, but what should go by water

prithee tonight lay on my

wedding sheets, remember.

Get me some poison, lago,

this night.

I'll not expostulate with her,

lest her body and beauty

unprovide my mind again.

Do it not with poison.

Strangle her in her bed, even

the bed she hath contaminated.

Good, good! The justice of

it pleases.

And for cassio, let me be

his undertaker.

Excellent good!

You shall hear more by midnight.

A halter pardon him!

And hell gnaw his ones!

Who should he call her whore?

Who keeps her company?

What time? What place?

What form? What likelihood?

The moor's abused by some

most villainous knave,

some base notorious knave,

some scurvy fellow!

Speak within doors.

Some such squire he was

that turned your wit the steamy

side without and made you to

suspect me with the moor.

Desdemona.

Get you to bed.

Dismiss your attendant there.

Look't be done.

I do not find that thou deal'st

justly with me.

What in the contrary?

Every day thou daff'st me

with some device, lago.

I have wasted myself out of

my means.

The jewels you have had from

me to deliver desdemona would

half have corrupted a votarist.

You have tole me she hath

received them, and returned

me expectations and comforts

of sudden respect and

acquaintance, but i find none.

Very well. Go to.

I cannot go to, man,

nor 'tis not very well.

I will make myself known

to desdemona.

She will return me my jewels.

If not, i will seek satisfaction

of you.

Now i see there's a mettle

in thee, and even from this

instant do build on thee a

better opinion than ever before.

Give me thy hand, roderigo.

I protest i have dealt

mostly directly in thy affair.

It hath not appeared.

I grant thee it hath not appeared,

and your suspicion is not

without wit and judgment.

If thou hast that in thee indeed

which i have greater reason

to believe now than ever,

i mean purpose, courage, and

valor, this night prove it.

If thou the next night following

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