Othello · William Shakespeare
SCENE I. A seaport in Cyprus. A Platform.
Enter Montano and two Gentlemen. 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 hath ruffian’d 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-shak’d surge, with high and monstrous main, Seems to cast water on the burning Bear, And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole; I never did like molestation view On the enchafed flood. MONTANO. If that the Turkish fleet Be not enshelter’d, and embay’d, they are drown’d. It is impossible to bear it out. Enter a third Gentleman. THIRD GENTLEMAN. News, lads! Our wars are done. The desperate tempest hath so bang’d the Turks That their designment halts. A noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wreck 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.
SECOND 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 arriv’d. SECOND GENTLEMAN. I shall. [_Exit._] MONTANO. But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv’d? CASSIO. Most fortunately: he hath achiev’d 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. Enter second Gentleman. How now? Who has put in? SECOND GENTLEMAN. ’Tis one Iago, ancient to the general. CASSIO. He 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. 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 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! Enter Desdemona, Iago, Roderigo, and Emilia. O, behold, The riches of the ship is come on shore! Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. 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? [_Within._] A sail, a sail! CASSIO. The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship. But, hark! a sail. [_Guns within._] SECOND GENTLEMAN. They give their greeting to the citadel. This likewise is a friend. CASSIO. See for the news. [_Exit Gentleman._] Good ancient, you are welcome. [_To 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. [_Kissing her._] 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 have list to sleep. Marry, before your ladyship, I grant, She puts her tongue a little in her heart, And chides with thinking. EMILIA. You have little cause to say so. IAGO. Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild-cats in your kitchens, Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives 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 thou 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, assay.—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 deliver’d. If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, The one’s for use, the other useth it. DESDEMONA. Well prais’d! 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 help’d her to an heir. DESDEMONA. These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i’ the 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 which 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 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? 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. 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 courtesy! ’Tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips? Would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!
RODERIGO. I cannot believe that in her, she is full of most blessed condition. IAGO. Blest fig’s end! the wine she drinks is made of grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? Didst not mark that? RODERIGO. Yes, that I did. But that was but courtesy. IAGO. 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 embrac’d together. Villainous thoughts, Roderigo! When these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion. Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you tonight. 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. RODERIGO. Well. IAGO. Sir, he is rash, and very sudden in choler, and haply with his truncheon 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.
RODERIGO. I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity. IAGO. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel: I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell. RODERIGO. Adieu. [_Exit._] IAGO. 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 judgement 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 practicing upon his peace and quiet Even to madness. ’Tis here, but yet confus’d. Knavery’s plain face is never seen till us’d.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.