Introductory matter

1 ^note.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ Duke of Venice. Brabantio, a senator. Other Senators, [Senator 1], [Senator 2]. Gratiano, brother to Brabantio. Lodovico, kinsman to Brabantio. Othello, a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state. Cassio, his lieutenant. Iago, his ancient. Roderigo, a Venetian gentleman^{2 note}. Montano, Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus. Clown, servant to Othello. Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello. Emilia, wife to Iago. Bianca, mistress to Cassio^{3 note}. Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and Attendants. [Officer], [Gentleman 1], [Gentleman 2], [Gentleman 3], [Gentleman 4], [Musician] Scene^{4 note}: Venice: a seaport in Cyprus.

THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. ACT I. ^note Scene I. [Footnote: Venice. A street. ^note Enter ^note Roderigo and Iago.

Rod.
Tush, ^note never tell me; I take it much ^note unkindly
That thou ^note, Iago, ^note who hast ^note had ^note my purse
As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. ^{note note}

Iago.
'Sblood, ^note but you will ^note not hear me:
If ever I did dream of such a matter,
Abhor me. ^{note note note}

Rod.
Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. ^note

Iago.
Despise me ^note, if I do not ^note. Three great ones of the city,
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Off-capp'd ^note to him: and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am ^note worth no worse ^note a place:
But he, as loving his own ^note pride and purposes ^note,
Evades them, with a bombast ^note circumstance
Horribly stuff'd with epithets ^note of war;
And, in conclusion, ^{note note}
Nonsuits my mediators; for ^note, ‘Certes,’ ^note says he,
‘I have already ^note chose ^note my officer.’
And what was he? ^note
Forsooth, a great arithmetician ^note,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damn'd ^note in a fair wife ^{note note}; ^note
That never set a squadron in the field,

Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster; ^note unless ^note the bookish ^note theoric,
Wherein the toged ^note consuls ^note can propose
As masterly as he ^note: mere prattle without practice
Is all ^note his soldiership. But he, sir, had ^note the election:
And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus ^note and on other ^note grounds
Christian ^note and heathen, must be be-lee'd ^note and calm'd
By debitor ^note and creditor: this counter-caster, ^note
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I—God bless the mark!— ^note his Moorship's ^note ancient.

Rod.
By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.

Iago.
Why ^note, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service, ^{note note}
Preferment goes by letter ^note and affection,
And not by old ^note gradation, where each second
Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself ^note
Whether ^note I in any just term am affined ^note
To love the Moor.

Rod.
I would not follow him then.

Iago.
O, sir, content you;
I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters

Cannot be truly follow'd ^note. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That doting on his own obsequious bondage
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought ^note but provender, and when ^note he's old, ^{note note} cashier'd: ^note
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages ^note of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,
And throwing but shows of service on their lords ^note
Do well ^note thrive by them ^note, and when they have ^note lined their coats
Do themselves homage: these ^note fellows ^{note note} have some soul, ^note
And such a one ^note do I profess myself.
For, sir, ^note
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end: ^note
For when my outward action doth ^note demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment ^note extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve

For daws ^note to peck at: I am not what I am. ^{note note}

Rod.
What a full ^note fortune does the thick-lips ^note owe,
If he can carry't ^note thus!

Iago.
Call up her father,
Rouse him: ^note make after him, poison his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets ^note; incense her kinsmen,
And, though ^note he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such changes ^note of vexation on't ^note
As it may lose some colour.

Rod.
Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.

Iago.
Do; with like timorous ^note accent and dire yell
As when, by night and negligence, the fire ^note
Is spied ^note in populous cities.

Rod.
What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!

Iago.
Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves! ^{note note}
Look to your house, your daughter ^note and your ^note bags! ^note
Thieves! thieves! Brabantio appears above, at a window.

Bra. ^note
What is the reason of this terrible summons?
What is the matter there? ^note

Rod.
Signior, is all your family within?

Iago.
Are your ^note doors lock'd? ^note

Bra.
Why, wherefore ask you this?

Iago.
'Zounds ^note, sir, you're ^note robb'd; for shame, put on your gown;
Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; ^note
Even now, now ^note, very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise;
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:
Arise, I say ^note. ^note

Bra.
What, have you lost your wits?

Rod.
Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?

Bra.
Not I: what are you?

Rod.
My name is Roderigo.

Bra.
The worser ^note welcome:
I have ^note charged thee not to haunt about my doors:
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
My daughter is ^note not for thee; and now, in madness,
Being full of supper and distempering draughts,
Upon malicious bravery ^note, dost thou come
To start my quiet. ^note

Rod.
Sir, sir, sir,— ^note

Bra.
But thou must needs be sure
My spirit ^note and my place have in them ^note power
To make this bitter to thee.

Rod.
Patience, good ^note sir.

Bra.
What tell'st ^note thou me of robbing? this is Venice;

My house is not a grange. ^note

Rod.
Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you.

Iago.

'Zounds ^note, sir, you are none of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you ^note think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans ^note.

Bra.

What profane wretch art thou?

Iago.

I am one, sir, that comes ^note to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now ^note making the beast with two backs.

Bra.
Thou art a villain.

Iago.
You are—a ^note senator.

Bra.
This thou shalt answer; ^note I know thee, Roderigo.

Rod.
Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech ^note you,
If't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,
At ^note this odd-even ^{note note} and dull watch o' the night,
Transported ^note with no worse nor ^note better guard
But with a knave of common ^note hire, a gondolier ^note,
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,—
If this be known to you, and your ^note allowance,
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; ^note
But if you know not this, my manners tell me

We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
That, from the sense of all civility,
I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,
I say again, hath made a gross revolt,
Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes,
In ^note an extravagant and wheeling ^{note note} stranger
Of here and ^note every where. Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her ^note chamber or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you ^note.

Bra.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Give me a taper! call up all my people!
This accident is not unlike my dream:
Belief of it oppresses me already.
Light, I say! light! [Exit above. ^note

Iago.
Farewell; for I must leave you:
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place ^note,
To be produced ^note—as, if I stay, I shall—
Against the Moor: for I do know, the state,
However ^note this may gall him with some check,
Cannot with safety cast him; for he's ^note embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus ^note wars ^note,
Which even now stand ^note in act, that, for their souls,
Another of his fathom ^note they have none ^note
To lead their business ^note: in which regard,

Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains ^note,
Yet for necessity of present life,
I must show out a flag and sign of love,
Which is indeed but sign. That ^note you shall surely find ^note him,
Lead to the Sagittary ^note the raised search;
And there will I be with him. So farewell. [Exit. ^noteEnter ^note, below, Brabantio, in his night-gown, and Servants with torches.

Bra.
It is too true an evil: gone she is;
And what's to come of my despised ^note time
Is ^note nought ^note but bitterness. Now ^note, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl!
With the Moor, say'st ^note thou? Who would be a father!
How didst thou know 'twas she? O, she deceives ^note me
Past thought! What said she to you? Get more ^note tapers.
Raise all my kindred ^note. Are they married, think you?

Rod.
Truly, I think they are ^note.

Bra.
O heaven! How got ^note she out? O treason of the blood ^note! ^note
Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
By what you see them act. Is ^note there not charms

By which the property of youth and maidhood ^note
May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing? ^note

Rod.
Yes, sir, I have indeed. ^note

Bra.
Call up my brother ^note. O, would ^note you had had her!
Some one way, some another. Do you know
Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?

Rod.
I think I can discover him, if you please
To get good guard and go along with me.

Bra.
Pray you, lead ^note on. At every house I'll call;
I may command at most. Get weapons, ho!
And raise some special officers of night ^note.
On, good Roderigo; I'll ^note deserve your pains. [Exeunt. ^note Scene II. [Footnote: Another street. ^note Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants ^note with torches.

Iago.
Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience ^note
To do no contrived murder: I lack ^note iniquity
Sometimes ^note to do me service: nine or ten times
I had ^note thought to have ^note yerk'd ^note him here under the ribs ^note. ^note

Oth.
'Tis ^note better as it is.

Iago.
Nay, but he prated
And spoke ^note such scurvy and provoking ^note terms
Against your honour,
That, with the little godliness I have, ^note
I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you ^note, sir,
Are you fast married? Be assured ^note of this,
That the magnifico is much beloved,
And hath in his effect a voice potential
As double ^note as the duke's ^note: he will divorce you,
Or put upon you what restraint and ^note grievance ^note
The ^note law, with all his might to enforce it on,
Will ^note give him cable.

Oth.
Let him do his spite:
My services ^note, which I have done the signiory,
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know—
Which, when I know ^note that boasting is an honour,
I shall promulgate ^note—I fetch my ^note life and being
From men of royal siege ^note, and my demerits
May speak unbonneted ^{note note} to ^note as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach'd: for know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhoused free condition
Put into circumscription and confine

For the sea's ^note worth. But, look! what lights come ^note yond ^note? ^{note note}

Iago.
Those ^note are the raised father and his friends:
You were best go in.

Oth.
Not I; I must be found:
My parts ^note, my title and my perfect soul,
Shall manifest ^note me rightly ^note. Is it they? ^note

Iago.
By Janus, I think no. Enter ^note Cassio, and certain Officers with torches.

Oth.
The servants of the duke, ^note and my lieutenant. ^{note note}
The goodness of the night upon you, ^note friends!
What is the news? ^note

Cas.
The duke does greet you, general,
And he requires your haste-post-haste ^note appearance,
Even on the instant.

Oth.
What is ^note the matter, think you?

Cas.
Something from Cyprus, as I may divine:
It is a business of some heat: the galleys
Have sent a dozen sequent ^note messengers
This very night at one ^note another's heels;
And many of the consuls ^note, raised and met,
Are at the duke's already: you have ^note been hotly call'd for;

When, being not at your lodging to be found,
The senate hath ^note sent about ^note three several quests
To search you out.

Oth.
'Tis well I am found by you.
I will but spend ^note a word here in the house,
And go ^note with you. ^note [Exit. ^note

Cas.
Ancient, what makes he here?

Iago.
Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack ^note:
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.

Cas.
I do not understand.

Iago.
He's married.

Cas.
To who? ^note Re-enter Othello. ^note

Iago.
Marry, to—Come, captain, will you go?

Oth.
Have with you. ^note

Cas.
Here comes another troop to seek for you. ^note

Iago.
It is Brabantio: general, be advised;
He comes to bad intent. Enter ^note Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers with torches and weapons.

Oth.
Holla ^note! stand there!

Rod.
Signior, it is the Moor.

Bra.
Down with him, thief! [They ^note draw on both sides.

Iago.
You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you.

Oth.
Keep up your bright swords, for ^note the dew will rust them ^note.
Good signior, you shall more command with years
Than with your weapons. ^note

Bra.
O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd ^note my daughter? ^note
Damn'd ^note as thou art, thou hast enchanted her;
For I'll refer me to all things ^note of sense,
If she in chains of magic were not bound, ^note
Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy,
So opposite to marriage that she shunn'd
The wealthy curled ^note darlings ^note of our nation,
Would ever have, to incur ^note a general mock,
Run from her guardage ^note to the sooty bosom
Of such a thing as thou ^note, to fear, not to delight.
Judge me the world, if 'tis not ^note gross in sense
That thou hast practised on her with foul charms,
Abused her delicate ^note youth with drugs or minerals
That weaken motion ^note: I'll have 't disputed on;
'Tis probable ^note, and palpable to thinking.
I therefore apprehend and do attach thee ^note
For ^note an abuser of the world, a practiser
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. ^note
Lay hold upon him: if he do resist,

Subdue him at his peril.

Oth.
Hold your hands ^note,
Both you of my inclining and the rest:
Were it my cue ^note to fight, I should have known it
Without a prompter. Where ^note will you that ^note I go
To answer ^note this your charge?

Bra.
To prison, till fit time
Of law and course of direct session ^note
Call thee to answer.

Oth.
What if I do ^note obey?
How may the duke be therewith satisfied,
Whose messengers are here about my side,
Upon some present business of the state
To bring ^note me to him?

First Off. ^note
'Tis ^note true, most worthy signior;
The duke's in council, and your noble self,
I am ^note sure, is sent for.

Bra.
How! the duke in council!
In this time of the night ^note! Bring him away:
Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself,
Or any of my brothers of the state,
Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own;
For if such actions may have passage free,
Bond-slaves and pagans ^note shall our statesmen be. [Exeunt.

^note Scene III. [Footnote: A council-chamber. ^note The Duke and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending. ^note

Duke.
There is ^note no composition in these ^note news
That gives them credit.

First Sen.
Indeed ^note they are ^note disproportion'd ^note;
My letters say a hundred and seven ^note galleys.

Duke.
And mine ^note, a ^note hundred and ^note forty. ^note

Sec. Sen.
And mine, two hundred:
But though they jump not on a just account,—
As in these cases, where the ^note aim ^{note note} reports ^note,
'Tis oft with difference,—yet do ^note they all confirm
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

Duke.
Nay, it is possible enough to judgement:
I do not so secure me in ^note the error,
But the main article ^note I do approve
In fearful sense.

Sailor. [Within ^note]
What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!

First Off. ^note
A messenger from the galleys ^note. Enter Sailor. ^note

Duke.
Now, what's ^note the business?

Sailor.
The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
So was I bid report here to the state ^note
By Signior Angelo ^note. ^note

Duke.
How say you by this change?

First Sen.
This cannot be,
By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant ^note
To keep us in false gaze. When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
And let ourselves again but understand
That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more facile ^note question bear it,
For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
But ^note altogether lacks the abilities
That Rhodes is dress'd in: if we make thought ^note of this,
We must not think the Turk is so unskilful
To leave that latest which concerns him first,
Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,
To wake and ^note wage a danger profitless. ^note

Duke.
Nay, ^note in all ^note confidence, he's not for Rhodes.

First Off. ^note
Here is more news. Enter a Messenger. ^note

Mess.
The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes,
Have there injointed ^note them ^note with an after fleet.

First Sen. ^note
Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?

Mess.
Of thirty ^note sail: and now they do re-stem ^note
Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
Their purposes toward ^note Cyprus. Signior Montano,
Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
With his ^note free duty recommends you thus ^note, ^note
And prays you to believe ^note him.

Duke.
'Tis certain then for Cyprus.
Marcus Luccicos ^note, is not he ^note in town? ^note

First Sen.
He's now in Florence.

Duke.
Write from us to him; post ^note-post-haste ^note dispatch ^note. ^note

First Sen.
Here comes Brabantio and the valiant ^note Moor. Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, ^note and Officers. ^{note note}

Duke.
Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
Against the general enemy Ottoman. [To Brabantio ^note]
I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
We lack'd ^note your counsel and your help to-night.

Bra.
So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me;

Neither my place nor ^note aught I heard of business
Hath raised me from my bed ^note, nor doth ^note the general care ^note
Take hold on ^note me; for my particular grief ^note
Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature
That it engluts and ^note swallows other sorrows,
And it ^note is still itself.

Duke.
Why, what's the matter?

Bra.
My daughter! O, my daughter!

All. ^note
Dead?

Bra.
Ay, ^note to me;
She is abused, stol'n from me and corrupted
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;
For nature so preposterously to ^note err,
Being not deficient ^note, blind, or ^note lame of sense, ^note
Sans ^note witchcraft could not. ^note

Duke.
Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding
Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself
And you of her, the bloody book of law
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter
After your ^note own sense, yea, ^note though our proper son
Stood in your action.

Bra.
Humbly I thank your grace.
Here is the man, this Moor; whom now, it seems,
Your special mandate for the state-affairs
Hath hither brought.

All. ^note
We are very sorry for 't ^note.

Duke. [To Othello ^note]
What in your own part can you say to this?

Bra.
Nothing, but this is so.

Oth.
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approved good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her:
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I ^note in my speech,
And little blest with the soft ^note phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some ^note nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil ^note and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause
In speaking for ^note myself. Yet, by your gracious ^note patience,
I will ^note a round unvarnish'd ^note tale ^note deliver
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, ^{note note}
What conjuration and what mighty magic—
For such proceeding ^note I am ^note charged withal—
I won his daughter. ^note

Bra.
A maiden never bold;
Of spirit so ^note still and quiet that her motion
Blush'd at herself ^note; and she—in spite of nature,
Of years, of country, credit, every thing—

To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on! ^note
It is a judgement maim'd ^note and most imperfect ^note
That will confess perfection ^note so could ^note err
Against all rules of nature; and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning hell,
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again,
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
He wrought upon ^note her.

Duke. ^note
To vouch ^note this, is no proof,
Without more certain ^note and more ^note overt test ^note
Than these ^note thin habits and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming ^note do ^note prefer against him.

First Sen. ^note
But, ^note Othello, speak:
Did you by indirect and forced courses
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?

Oth.
I do ^note beseech you, ^note
Send for the lady to the Sagittary ^note,
And let her speak of me before her father:
If you do find me foul in her report,
The trust, the office I do hold of you, ^note
Not only take away, but let your sentence ^note
Even fall upon ^note my life.

Duke.
Fetch Desdemona hither.

Oth.
Ancient, conduct them; you best know the place. ^note [Exeunt ^note Iago and Attendants.
And till ^note she come, as truly ^note as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my blood, ^note
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love
And she in mine.

Duke.
Say it, Othello.

Oth.
Her father loved me, oft invited me,
Still question'd ^note me the story ^note of my life
From year to year ^note, the battles ^note, sieges, fortunes ^note,
That I have ^note pass'd. ^note
I ran it through, even from ^note my boyish days
To the very moment that he bade me tell it:
Wherein I spake ^note of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by ^note flood and field,
Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly ^note breach,
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery, of ^note my redemption thence,
And portance in my ^note travels' ^note history:
Wherein of antres ^note vast and deserts idle ^note,
Rough quarries, rocks, and ^note hills whose heads ^note touch heaven,

It was my hint ^note to speak,—such was the ^note process;
And of the Cannibals that each other ^note eat,
The Anthropophagi ^note, and men whose heads
Do grow ^note beneath their shoulders. ^note This ^note to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
But still the house-affairs would draw her thence ^note;
Which ^note ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels ^note she had something heard,
But not ^note intentively ^note: I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her tears
When I did speak of some distressful ^note stroke
That my youth suffer'd ^note. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs ^note:
She swore, in faith ^note, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd ^note me,
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon ^note this hint ^note I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had ^note pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft I have used.
Here comes the lady; let her witness it. ^note Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants. ^{note note}

Duke.
I think this tale would win my daughter too.
Good Brabantio,
Take up this mangled matter at the best: ^note
Men do their broken weapons rather use
Than their bare hands.

Bra.
I pray you, hear her speak:
If she confess that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head ^note, if my bad blame
Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress:
Do you perceive in all this ^note noble company
Where most you ^note owe obedience?

Des.
My noble ^note father,
I do perceive here a divided duty:
To you I am ^note bound for life and education;
My life and education both do learn me
How to respect you; you are ^note the lord of ^note duty,
I am ^note hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband,
And so much duty as my mother show'd ^note
To you, preferring you before her father,
So much ^note I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor ^note my lord.

Bra.
God be with you! I have done. ^note
Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs:
I had rather to ^note adopt a child than get it.

Come hither, Moor:
I here do give thee that with all my heart,
Which, but thou hast already, with all ^note my heart ^note
I would keep from thee. For your ^note sake, jewel,
I am ^note glad at soul I ^note have no other child;
For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
To hang clogs on them ^note. I have done, my ^note lord.

Duke.
Let me speak ^note like yourself ^note, and lay a sentence ^{note note}
Which, as ^note a grise ^note or step, may help these lovers ^note
Into your favour. ^note
When remedies are past, the griefs are ended ^note
By seeing the worst ^note, which late on hopes depended.
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
Is the next way to draw new ^note mischief on.
What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery ^note makes.
The robb'd that smiles steals something from the ^note thief;
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

Bra.
So let ^note the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
We lose ^note it not so long as we can smile.
He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
But the free comfort ^note which from thence he hears;
But he bears ^note both the sentence and the sorrow,
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.

These sentences, to sugar or to gall,
Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:
But words are words; I never yet did hear
That the bruised heart was pierced ^note through the ear ^note. ^note
I humbly beseech you, proceed to ^note the affairs of state ^note.

Duke.

The Turk with a ^note most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you; and though we have there ^note a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a ^note sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer ^note voice on you: you must therefore be content to slubber the gloss ^note of your new fortunes with this more ^note stubborn and boisterous expedition.

Oth.
The tyrant custom, most grave ^note senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch ^note of war
My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnize
A natural and prompt alacrity ^note
I find in ^note hardness ^note; and do ^note undertake
These present wars ^note against the Ottomites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
I crave fit disposition for my wife,
Due reference ^note of place and exhibition,
With ^note such accommodation ^note and besort
As levels with her breeding.

Duke.
If you please,
Be 't at her father's. ^note

Bra.
I'll ^note not have it so.

Oth.
Nor I.

Des.
Nor I, I would not ^note there reside ^note,
To put my father in impatient thoughts
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend your prosperous ^note ear,
And let me find a charter ^note in your voice
To assist my simpleness. ^note

Duke.
What would you, Desdemona? ^note

Des.
That I did ^note love the Moor to live with him,
My downright violence and storm of fortunes ^note
May trumpet to the world: my heart's ^note subdued
Even to the very quality ^note of my lord:
I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
And to his honours and his valiant parts
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
So that, dear ^note lords, if I be left behind,
A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites ^note for which ^note I love him are bereft me,
And I a heavy interim shall support
By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

Oth.
Let her have your voices. ^note
Vouch with me, heaven, ^note I therefore beg it not,

To please the palate of my appetite;
Nor to comply with heat—the young affects ^note
In me defunct— ^noteand proper satisfaction;
But to be free and bounteous to ^note her mind: ^note
And heaven defend your good souls ^note, that you think
I will your serious and great ^note business scant
For ^note she is with me. No, when light-wing'd toys
Of ^note feather'd Cupid seel ^note with wanton dullness ^note
My speculative and officed ^note instruments ^note,
That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
Let housewives ^note make a skillet ^note of my helm,
And all indign and base adversities
Make head against my estimation ^note!

Duke.
Be it as you shall privately determine,
Either ^note for her ^note stay or going: the affair cries ^note haste,
And speed must answer't; ^note you must hence to-night. ^note

Des.
To-night, my lord? ^note

Duke.
This night. ^note

Oth.
With all my heart. ^note

Duke.
At nine ^note i' the morning here we'll meet again.
Othello, leave some officer behind,
And he shall our commission bring to you;
With ^note such things else of quality and ^note respect
As doth import ^note you.

Oth.
So ^note please your grace, my ancient;
A man he is of honesty and trust:
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good ^note grace shall think
To be sent after me.

Duke.
Let it be so.
Good night to every one. [To Brab. ^note] And, noble signior,
If virtue no delighted ^note beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

First Sen. ^note
Adieu, brave Moor; use Desdemona well.

Bra.
Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes ^note to see:
She has deceived ^note her father, and may thee ^note. [Exeunt ^note Duke, Senators, Officers, &c.

Oth.
My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee:
I prithee, let thy wife attend on her;
And bring them ^note after in the ^note best advantage.
Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour

Of love, of worldly ^note matters ^note and direction,
To spend ^note with thee: we must obey the ^note time. [Exeunt ^note Othello and Desdemona. ^note

Rod.

Iago!

Iago.

What say'st thou, noble heart?

Rod.

What will ^note I do, thinkest thou?

Iago.

Why, go to bed and sleep.

Rod.

I will incontinently drown myself.

Iago.

If ^note thou dost, I shall never love thee after. ^note Why, thou silly gentleman! ^note

Rod.

It is silliness to live when to live is torment ^note; and then have we ^note a prescription to die ^note when death is our physician.

Iago.

O villanous! ^note I have ^note looked upon the world for four times seven years; and since I could distinguish betwixt ^note a benefit and an injury, I never found man ^note that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen ^note, I would change my humanity with a baboon.

Rod.

What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.

Iago.

Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are gardens ^note; to the which our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop ^note and weed up thyme ^note, supply it with one

gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have ^note it sterile with idleness or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills ^note. If the balance ^note of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions: but we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal ^note stings, our ^note unbitted lusts; whereof I take this, that you call love, to be a sect ^note or scion ^note.

Rod.

It cannot be.

Iago.

It is merely a lust of the ^note blood and a permission ^note of the will. Come, be a man: drown thyself! drown cats and blind puppies. I have professed ^note me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness: I could never better stead ^note thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow thou the ^note wars; defeat ^note thy favour with an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long ^note continue her love to ^note the Moor—put money in thy purse— ^notenor he his ^note to her: it was a violent commencement ^note, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration ^note; put but ^note money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills:—fill thy purse with

money. The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts ^note, shall be to him shortly ^note as bitter as ^note coloquintida. She must change for youth: ^note when she is sated with his body, she will find the error ^note of her choice: she must have change, she must: ^note therefore put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring ^note barbarian and a ^note supersubtle ^note Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of drowning ^note thyself ^note! it is ^note clean out of the way: seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her.

Rod.

Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue ^note?

Iago.

Thou art sure of me: go, make money: I have told thee often, and I re-tell ^note thee ^note again and again, I hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath ^note no less reason. Let us be conjunctive ^note in our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold ^note him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, me ^note a sport. There are many events in the womb of time, which will be delivered. Traverse; go; provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu.

Rod.

Where shall we meet i' the morning?

Iago.

At my lodging.

Rod.

I'll be with thee betimes.

Iago.

Go to; farewell. Do you hear ^note, Roderigo?

Rod.

What say you?

Iago.

No more of drowning, do you hear?

Rod.
I am changed: I'll go sell all my land. [Exit. ^{note note}

Iago.
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse; ^note
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If I would ^note time expend with such a snipe ^note
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor;
And it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets
He has ^note done my office: I know not if't be true;
But ^note I for mere suspicion in that kind
Will do as if for surety. He holds me well;
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio's a proper man: let me see now;
To get his ^note place, and to plume ^note up my will
In ^note double knavery— ^noteHow, how?—Let's ^note see:—
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear ^note
That he is too familiar with his ^note wife.
He hath a person and a smooth dispose
To be suspected; framed to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature ^note,
That thinks men honest that but seem ^note to be so;
And will as tenderly be led ^note by the nose ^note
As asses are. ^note

I have 't ^note. It is engender'd ^note. Hell and night ^note
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. [Exit. ^note ACT II. ^note Scene I. [Footnote: A sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay. ^note Enter ^note Montano and two Gentlemen.

Mon.
What from the cape can you discern at sea?

First Gent.
Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought ^note flood;
I cannot, 'twixt the heaven ^note and the main,
Descry a sail.

Mon.
Methinks the wind hath spoke ^note aloud at land ^note;
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:
If it hath ^note ruffian'd so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, ^note
Can hold the mortise ^note? What shall we hear of this? ^note

Sec. Gent. ^note
A segregation of the Turkish fleet:

For do but stand upon the foaming ^note shore,
The chidden ^note billow ^note seems ^note to pelt the clouds;
The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane ^note,
Seems to cast water on the burning bear,
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed ^note pole:
I never did like molestation view
On the enchafed ^note flood.

Mon.
If that the ^note Turkish fleet
Be not enshelter'd and embay'd ^note, they are ^note drown'd;
It is impossible to ^note bear it out. Enter a third Gentleman. ^{note note}

Third Gent. ^note
News, lads ^note! our ^{note note} wars are done.
The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks ^note,
That their designment halts: a noble ^note ship of Venice
Hath seen a grievous wreck ^note and sufferance ^note
On most part of their ^note fleet.

Mon.
How! is this true?

Third Gent.
The ship is here ^note put in,

A Veronesa; ^note Michael Cassio, ^note
Lieutenant to ^note the warlike Moor Othello,
Is come on shore ^note: the Moor himself ^note at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

Mon.
I am ^note glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor. ^note

Third Gent.
But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort
Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly
And prays ^note the Moor be safe; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.

Mon.
Pray heavens ^note he be;
For I have served him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho! ^{note note}
As well to see the vessel that's come in
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and the aerial blue ^{note note}
An ^note indistinct regard. ^{note note}

Third Gent.
Come, let's do so;
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance ^note. Enter Cassio. ^{note note}

Cas.
Thanks, you the ^note valiant of this ^note warlike ^note isle,
That so approve the Moor! O, let ^note the heavens

Give him defence against ^note the ^note elements,
For I have lost him on a ^note dangerous sea.

Mon.
Is he well shipp'd?

Cas.
His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot ^note
Of very expert and ^note approved allowance;
Therefore my hopes ^note, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure ^note. [A cry within: ^note ‘A sail, a sail, a sail!’ Enter a fourth Gentleman. ^note

Cas.
What noise ^note?

Fourth Gent. ^note
The town is empty; on ^note the brow o' the sea
Stand ^note ranks of people, and they cry ‘A sail!’

Cas.
My hopes do shape him for the governor ^note. [Guns heard. ^note

Sec. Gent. ^note
They do discharge their ^note shot of courtesy:
Our friends ^note at least.

Cas.
I pray you, sir, go forth,
And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.

Sec. Gent.
I shall. [Exit.

Mon.
But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?

Cas.
Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid

That paragons description and wild fame;
One that excels the quirks of ^note blazoning pens,
And in the essential ^note vesture of creation
Does tire the ingener. ^{note note} Re-enter ^note second Gentleman.
How ^note now! who has put in?

Sec. Gent. ^note
'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.

Cas. ^note
He has ^note had most favourable and happy speed:
Tempests themselves, high seas ^note, and howling winds,
The gutter'd ^note rocks, and congregated sands,
Traitors ensteep'd ^note to clog ^note the guiltless keel,
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal ^note natures, letting go safely ^note by
The divine Desdemona.

Mon.
What is she?

Cas.
She that I spake ^note of, our great ^note captain's captain, ^note
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago;
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts

A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove ^note, 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 ^note Desdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extincted ^note spirits, ^note
And bring ^note all Cyprus comfort. ^{note note} Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Roderigo, and Attendants. ^note
O, behold,
The riches of the ship is come on shore ^note!
Ye ^note men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Hail to thee, lady ^note! and the grace of heaven,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round!

Des.
I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me ^note of my lord?

Cas.
He is not yet ^note arrived: nor know I aught
But that he's well and will be shortly here.

Des.
O, but I fear— ^noteHow lost you company? ^note

Cas.
The great contention of the sea ^note and skies
Parted our fellowship—But ^note, hark! a sail. [A cry within: ‘A sail, a sail!’ ^note Guns heard. ^note

Sec. Gent.
They give their ^note greeting to the ^note citadel:

This likewise is a friend.

Cas.
See for the news. ^note [Exit ^note Gentleman.
Good ancient, you are welcome. [To Emilia ^note] 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. ^note

Iago.
Sir, ^note would she give you so much of her lips
As of her tongue she oft bestows ^note on ^note me,
You'ld ^note have enough.

Des.
Alas, she has no speech.

Iago.
In faith, ^note too much;
I find it still when ^note I have ^note list ^note to sleep:
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart ^note
And chides with thinking.

Emil.
You have ^note little cause to say so.

Iago.
Come on, come on; you are ^note pictures out of doors ^note,
Bells in your parlours, wild-cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery ^note, and ^note housewives ^note in your beds. ^{note note}

Des. ^note
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.

Emil.
You shall not write my praise.

Iago.
No, let me not.

Des.
What wouldst thou ^note write of me, if thou shouldst praise me? ^{note note}

Iago.
O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
For I am nothing if not critical.

Des.
Come on, assay— ^{note note}There's one gone to the harbour? ^note

Iago.
Ay, madam.

Des.
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 ^note my ^note invention
Comes from my pate as birdline does from frize ^note;
It plucks out brains ^note and all: but my Muse labours,
And thus she is deliver'd ^note. ^{note note}
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth ^note it.

Des.
Well praised! How if she be black and witty? ^note

Iago.
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit ^note.

Des.
Worse and worse.

Emil.
How if fair and foolish? ^note

Iago.
She never yet was foolish that was fair;
For ^note even her folly help'd her to an heir. ^note

Des.

These are old fond ^note paradoxes to make fools laugh i' the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's foul and foolish? ^note

Iago.
There's none so foul, and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones ^note do.

Des.

O heavy ignorance! thou praisest ^note the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that in the authority of her merit ^note did justly put on ^note the vouch of very malice itself? ^note

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 ^note, 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 ^note disclose her mind,
See suitors following and not ^note look behind; ^note
She was a wight, if ever such wight ^note were,— ^note

Des.

To ^note do what?

Iago.
To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.

Des.

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 ^note counsellor ^note? ^note

Cas.

He speaks home, madam: you may relish him ^notemore in the soldier than in the scholar ^note. ^note

Iago. [Aside ^note]

He takes her by the palm: ay, well ^note said ^note, whisper: with as little a web as this will I ^note ensnare as great a fly ^note as Cassio. Ay, smile ^note upon her, do; I will gyve thee ^note in thine ^note own courtship ^note. You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry ^note, it had been better you had not kissed ^note your three fingers so oft, which now again ^note you are most apt to play the sir in. Very ^note good; well kissed! an ^note excellent courtesy ^note! 'tis so ^note, indeed. Yet again ^note your fingers to ^note your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake! [Trumpet within. ^note] The Moor! I know his trumpet.

Cas.

'Tis truly so.

Des.

Let's meet him and receive him.

Cas.

Lo, where he comes ^note!