Othello Page #15

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

								


   Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd.

Exeunt. omnes.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Othello, and Iago.

  Iago. Will you thinke so?
  Oth. Thinke so, Iago?
  Iago. What, to kisse in priuate?
  Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse?
  Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed, An houre, or more, not meaning any harme?
  Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme? It is hypocrisie against the Diuell: They that meane vertuously, and yet do so, The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen

   Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip: But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe

   Oth. What then?
  Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers, She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man

   Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too: May she giue that?
  Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene, They haue it very oft, that haue it not. But for the Handkerchiefe

   Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it: Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie, As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house: Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe

   Iago . I: what of that?
  Othe. That's not so good now

   Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong? Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad, Who hauing by their owne importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris, Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse But they must blab.)
  Oth. Hath he said any thing?
  Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd, No more then he'le vn-sweare

   Oth. What hath he said?
  Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did

   Othe. What? What?
  Iago. Lye

   Oth. With her?
  Iago. With her? On her: what you will

   Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her, when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome: Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse, and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd, and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish) Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe? O diuell.

Falls in a Traunce.

  Iago. Worke on, My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught, And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus, (All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord? My Lord, I say: Othello. Enter Cassio.

How now Cassio?
  Cas. What's the matter?
  Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie, This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday

   Cas. Rub him about the Temples

   Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course: If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres: Do you withdraw your selfe a little while, He will recouer straight: when he is gone, I would on great occasion, speake with you. How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head?
  Othe. Dost thou mocke me?
  Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen: Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man

   Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast

   Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty, And many a ciuill Monster

   Othe. Did he confesse it?
  Iago. Good Sir, be a man: Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue, That nightly lye in those vnproper beds, Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better. Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch; And to suppose her chast. No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe

   Oth. Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine

   Iago. Stand you a while apart, Confine your selfe but in a patient List, Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe (A passion most resulting such a man) Cassio came hither: I shifted him away, And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie, Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me, The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe, And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes That dwell in euery Region of his face. For I will make him tell the Tale anew; Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath, and is againe to cope your wife. I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience, Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene, And nothing of a man

   Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago, I will be found most cunning in my Patience: But (do'st thou heare) most bloody

   Iago. That's not amisse, But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw? Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A Huswife that by selling her desires Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one) He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes. Enter Cassio.

As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad: And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?
  Cas. The worser, that you giue me the addition, Whose want euen killes me

   Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't: Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre, How quickely should you speed?
  Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe

   Oth. Looke how he laughes already

   Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so

   Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me

   Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out

   Iago. Do you heare Cassio?
  Oth. Now he importunes him To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said

   Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her. Do you intend it?
  Cas. Ha, ha, ha

   Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph?
  Cas. I marry. What? A customer; prythee beare Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha

   Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes

   Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her

   Cas. Prythee say true

   Iago. I am a very Villaine else

   Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well

   Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out: She is perswaded I will marry her Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise

   Oth. Iago becomes me: now he begins the story

   Cassio. She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery place. I was the other day talking on the Seabanke with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck

   Oth. Crying oh deere Cassio, as it were: his iesture imports it

   Cassio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me: So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha

   Oth. Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber: oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dogge, I shall throw it to

   Cassio. Well, I must leaue her companie

   Iago. Before me: looke where she comes. Enter Bianca.

  Cas. 'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one? What do you meane by this haunting of me?
  Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there. This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke? There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had it, Ile take out no worke on't
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