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here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie
of Othello, the Moore of Venice.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
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***
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't. This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling,
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and davidr@inconnect.com. I hope that you enjoy this.
David Reed
Iago. Despise me
If I do not. Three Great-ones of the Cittie,
(In personall suite to make me his Lieutenant)
Off-capt to him: and by the faith of man
I know my price, I am worth no worsse a place.
But he (as louing his owne pride, and purposes)
Euades them, with a bumbast Circumstance,
Horribly stufft with Epithites of warre,
Non-suites my Mediators. For certes, saies he,
I haue already chose my Officer. And what was he?
For-sooth, a great Arithmatician,
One Michaell Cassio, a Florentine,
(A Fellow almost damn'd in a faire Wife)
That neuer set a Squadron in the Field,
Nor the deuision of a Battaile knowes
More then a Spinster. Vnlesse the Bookish Theoricke:
Wherein the Tongued Consuls can propose
As Masterly as he. Meere pratle (without practise)
Is all his Souldiership. But he (Sir) had th' election;
And I (of whom his eies had seene the proofe
At Rhodes, at Ciprus, and on others grounds
Christen'd, and Heathen) must be be-leed, and calm'd
By Debitor, and Creditor. This Counter-caster,
He (in good time) must his Lieutenant be,
And I (blesse the marke) his Mooreships Auntient
Ia. Sir: you are one of those that will not serue God,
if the deuill bid you. Because we come to do you seruice,
and you thinke we are Ruffians, you'le haue your Daughter
couer'd with a Barbary horse, you'le haue your Nephewes
neigh to you, you'le haue Coursers for Cozens:
and Gennets for Germaines
Enter.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Cassio. To who?
Iago. Marry to- Come Captaine, will you go?
Othel. Haue with you
Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Saylor.
Enter a Messenger.
Othe. Nor I
Rod. Iago
Rod. It cannot be
Gent. I shall.
Enter.
Oh behold,
The Riches of the Ship is come on shore:
You men of Cyprus, let her haue your knees.
Haile to thee Ladie: and the grace of Heauen,
Before, behinde thee, and on euery hand
Enwheele thee round
Iago. Lay thy finger thus: and let thy soule be instructed.
Marke me with what violence she first lou'd
the Moore, but for bragging, and telling her fantasticall
lies. To loue him still for prating, let not thy discreet
heart thinke it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight
shall she haue to looke on the diuell? When the Blood
is made dull with the Act of Sport, there should be a
game to enflame it, and to giue Satiety a fresh appetite.
Louelinesse in fauour, simpathy in yeares, Manners,
and Beauties: all which the Moore is defectiue in. Now
for want of these requir'd Conueniences, her delicate
tendernesse wil finde it selfe abus'd, begin to heaue the,
gorge, disrellish and abhorre the Moore, very Nature wil
instruct her in it, and compell her to some second choice.
Now Sir, this granted (as it is a most pregnant and vnforc'd
position) who stands so eminent in the degree of
this Fortune, as Cassio do's: a knaue very voluble: no
further conscionable, then in putting on the meere forme
of Ciuill, and Humaine seeming, for the better compasse
of his salt, and most hidden loose Affection? Why none,
why none: A slipper, and subtle knaue, a finder of occasion:
that he's an eye can stampe, and counterfeit Aduantages,
though true Aduantage neuer present it selfe.
A diuelish knaue: besides, the knaue is handsome, young:
and hath all those requisites in him, that folly and greene
mindes looke after. A pestilent compleat knaue, and the
woman hath found him already
Rod. Well
Rodo. Adieu.
Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Iago.
Iago. Oh, they are our Friends: but one Cup, Ile
drinke for you
Cas. Why very well then: you must not thinke then,
that I am drunke.
Enter.
Cassio. Drunke?
Iago. Away I say: go out and cry a Mutinie.
Nay good Lieutenant. Alas Gentlemen:
Helpe hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano:
Helpe Masters. Heere's a goodly Watch indeed.
Who's that which rings the Bell: Diablo, hoa:
The Towne will rise. Fie, fie Lieutenant,
You'le be asham'd for euer.
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
Exit Cassio.
Iago. And what's he then,
That saies I play the Villaine?
When this aduise is free I giue, and honest,
Proball to thinking, and indeed the course
To win the Moore againe.
For 'tis most easie
Th' inclyning Desdemona to subdue
In any honest Suite. She's fram'd as fruitefull
As the free Elements. And then for her
To win the Moore, were to renownce his Baptisme,
All Seales, and Simbols of redeemed sin:
His Soule is so enfetter'd to her Loue,
That she may make, vnmake, do what she list,
Euen as her Appetite shall play the God,
With his weake Function. How am I then a Villaine,
To Counsell Cassio to this paralell course,
Directly to his good? Diuinitie of hell,
When diuels will the blackest sinnes put on,
They do suggest at first with heauenly shewes,
As I do now. For whiles this honest Foole
Plies Desdemona, to repaire his Fortune,
And she for him, pleades strongly to the Moore,
Ile powre this pestilence into his eare:
That she repeales him, for her bodies Lust,
And by how much she striues to do him good,
She shall vndo her Credite with the Moore.
So will I turne her vertue into pitch.
And out of her owne goodnesse make the Net,
That shall en-mash them all.
How now Rodorigo?
Enter Rodorigo.
Exit Roderigo.
Exit Mu.
Exit Clo.
Enter Iago.
Exit
Scoena Secunda.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Exit Cassio.
Iago. Indeed?
Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that?
Is he not honest?
Iago. Honest, my Lord?
Oth. Honest? I, Honest
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
Exit aemil.
Oth. If it be that
Exeunt.
Scaena Quarta.
Exit Clo.
Oth. Not?
Des. No indeed, my Lord
Oth. Away.
Exit Othello.
Exit
Exit
Exeunt. omnes.
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.
Exit
Des. My Lord
Othe. Indeed?
Des. My Lord?
Othe. I am glad to see you mad
Othe. Mistris
Des. My Lord
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor nothing?
Aemil. Neuer my Lord
Exit aemilia.
Exit aemi.
Enter Rodorigo.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Des. My Lord
Des. All's one: good Father, how foolish are our minds?
If I do die before, prythee shrow'd me
In one of these same Sheetes.
Aemil. Come, come: you talke
Exeunt.
Oth. It is euen so
Exit Othello.
Cas. Oh helpe
Lodo. Hearke
Lod. Hearke
Gra. Cassio?
Iago. How is't Brother?
Cas. My Legge is cut in two
Gra. Rodorigo?
Iago. He, he, 'tis he:
Oh that's well said, the Chaire.
Some good man beare him carefully from hence,
Ile fetch the Generall's Surgeon. For you Mistris,
Saue you your labour. He that lies slaine heere (Cassio)
Was my deere friend. What malice was between you
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Oth. Humh
Oth. Presently.
Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne:
For to deny each Article with Oath,
Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception
That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye
Smothers her.
Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
I that am cruell, am yet mercifull,
I would not haue thee linger in thy paine?
So, so.
Aemil. within. What hoa? my Lord, my Lord?
Oth. Who's there?
Aemil. Oh good my Lord, I would speake a word
with you
Oth. Hah?
Aemil. Do thy worst:
This deede of thine is no more worthy Heauen,
Then thou was't worthy her
Oth. I
Oth. O Villaine!
Cassio. Most Heathenish, and most grosse
Dyes
Exeunt.
FINIS.