Othello Page #11

Othello is a tragedy by William Shakespeare, believed to have been written in 1603. It is based on the story Un Capitano Moro by Cinthio, a disciple of Boccaccio, first published in 1565.

• Drama

								


   Oth. Prythee no more: Let him come when he will: I will deny thee nothing

   Des. Why, this is not a Boone: 'Tis as I should entreate you weare your Gloues, Or feede on nourishing dishes, or keepe you warme, Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit To your owne person. Nay, when I haue a suite Wherein I meane to touch your Loue indeed, It shall be full of poize, and difficult waight, And fearefull to be granted

   Oth. I will deny thee nothing. Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leaue me but a little to my selfe

   Des. Shall I deny you? No: farewell my Lord

   Oth. Farewell my Desdemona, Ile come to thee strait

   Des. aemilia come; be as your Fancies teach you: What ere you be, I am obedient. Enter.

  Oth. Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my Soule But I do loue thee: and when I loue thee not, Chaos is come againe

   Iago. My Noble Lord

   Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?
  Iago. Did Michael Cassio When he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue?
  Oth. He did, from first to last: Why dost thou aske?
  Iago. But for a satisfaction of my Thought, No further harme

   Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?
  Iago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir

   Oth. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft

   Iago. Indeed?
  Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that? Is he not honest?
  Iago. Honest, my Lord?
  Oth. Honest? I, Honest

   Iago. My Lord, for ought I know

   Oth. What do'st thou thinke?
  Iago. Thinke, my Lord?
  Oth. Thinke, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchos't me; As if there were some Monster in thy thought Too hideous to be shewne. Thou dost mean somthing: I heard thee say euen now, thou lik'st not that, When Cassio left my wife. What didd'st not like? And when I told thee, he was of my Counsaile, Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeede? And didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together, As if thou then hadd'st shut vp in thy Braine Some horrible Conceite. If thou do'st loue me, Shew me thy thought

   Iago. My Lord, you know I loue you

   Oth. I thinke thou do'st: And for I know thou'rt full of Loue, and Honestie, And weigh'st thy words before thou giu'st them breath, Therefore these stops of thine, fright me the more: For such things in a false disloyall Knaue Are trickes of Custome: but in a man that's iust, They're close dilations, working from the heart, That Passion cannot rule

   Iago. For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworne, I thinke that he is honest

   Oth. I thinke so too

   Iago. Men should be what they seeme, Or those that be not, would they might seeme none

   Oth. Certaine, men should be what they seeme

   Iago. Why then I thinke Cassio's an honest man

   Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this? I prythee speake to me, as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and giue thy worst of thoughts The worst of words

   Iago. Good my Lord pardon me, Though I am bound to euery Acte of dutie, I am not bound to that: All Slaues are free: Vtter my Thoughts? Why say, they are vild, and falce? As where's that Palace, whereinto foule things Sometimes intrude not? Who ha's that breast so pure, Wherein vncleanly Apprehensions Keepe Leetes, and Law-dayes, and in Sessions sit With meditations lawfull?
  Oth. Thou do'st conspire against thy Friend (Iago) If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his eare A stranger to thy Thoughts

   Iago. I do beseech you, Though I perchance am vicious in my guesse (As I confesse it is my Natures plague To spy into Abuses, and of my iealousie Shapes faults that are not) that your wisedome From one, that so imperfectly conceits, Would take no notice, nor build your selfe a trouble Out of his scattering, and vnsure obseruance: It were not for your quiet, nor your good, Nor for my Manhood, Honesty, and Wisedome, To let you know my thoughts

   Oth. What dost thou meane?
  Iago. Good name in Man, & woman (deere my Lord) Is the immediate Iewell of their Soules; Who steales my purse, steales trash: 'Tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has bin slaue to thousands: But he that filches from me my good Name, Robs me of that, which not enriches him, And makes me poore indeed

   Oth. Ile know thy Thoughts

   Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand, Nor shall not, whil'st 'tis in my custodie

   Oth. Ha?
  Iago. Oh, beware my Lord, of iealousie, It is the greene-ey'd Monster, which doth mocke The meate it feeds on. That Cuckold liues in blisse, Who certaine of his Fate, loues not his wronger: But oh, what damned minutes tels he ore, Who dotes, yet doubts: Suspects, yet soundly loues?
  Oth. O miserie

   Iago. Poore, and Content, is rich, and rich enough, But Riches finelesse, is as poore as Winter, To him that euer feares he shall be poore: Good Heauen, the Soules of all my Tribe defend From Iealousie

   Oth. Why? why is this? Think'st thou, I'ld make a Life of Iealousie; To follow still the changes of the Moone With fresh suspitions? No: to be once in doubt, Is to be resolu'd: Exchange me for a Goat, When I shall turne the businesse of my Soule To such exufflicate, and blow'd Surmises, Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me Iealious, To say my wife is faire, feeds well, loues company, Is free of Speech, Sings, Playes, and Dances: Where Vertue is, these are more vertuous. Nor from mine owne weake merites, will I draw The smallest feare, or doubt of her reuolt, For she had eyes, and chose me. No Iago, Ile see before I doubt; when I doubt, proue; And on the proofe, there is no more but this, Away at once with Loue, or Iealousie

   Ia. I am glad of this: For now I shall haue reason To shew the Loue and Duty that I beare you With franker spirit. Therefore (as I am bound) Receiue it from me. I speake not yet of proofe: Looke to your wife, obserue her well with Cassio, Weare your eyes, thus: not Iealious, nor Secure: I would not haue your free, and Noble Nature, Out of selfe-Bounty, be abus'd: Looke too't: I know our Country disposition well: In Venice, they do let Heauen see the prankes They dare not shew their Husbands. Their best Conscience, Is not to leaue't vndone, but kept vnknowne

   Oth. Dost thou say so?
  Iago. She did deceiue her Father, marrying you, And when she seem'd to shake, and feare your lookes, She lou'd them most

   Oth. And so she did

   Iago. Why go too then: Shee that so young could giue out such a Seeming To seele her Fathers eyes vp, close as Oake, He thought 'twas Witchcraft. But I am much too blame: I humbly do beseech you of your pardon For too much louing you

   Oth. I am bound to thee for euer
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