The following program me contains flashing images.
(AUDIENCE CHATTER)
(HIGH-PITCHED BEEPING)
(BEEPING CONTINUES, AUDIENCE CHATTER DIES DOWN)
(INDISTINCT, DISTORTED VOICES)
(CLICK) (INDISTINCT, DISTORTED VOICES)
(BEEPING INTENSIFIES) (STATIC)
(VOICES CONTINUE)
(BEEPING, STATIC AND VOICES CONTINUE)
(SILENCE)
(BREATHING IN SHARPLY)
(RHYTHMIC MUSIC) (GRUNTING)
Ha! Ha!
(ULULATING)
(GRUNTING CONTINUES)
(MUSIC STOPS)
Hmm!
Bravo! Bravo!
(CHEERING, APPLAUDING) Bravo! Bravo, come on!
Bravo!
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)
Hero.
(WHOOSHING)
(CLAMOURING)
(RUMBLING)
(RUMBLING INTENSIFIES)
(RUMBLING STOPS ABRUPTLY) (LOW, TENSE STRINGS)
(PULSATING, ELECTRONIC RHYTHM)
(RHYTHM STOPS) RODERIGO: What ho!
What ho! What ho! What ho!
Brabantio!
Signior Brabantio ho!
Awake, what ho!
Brabantio!
Thieves, thieves, thieves!
Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!
Thieves, thieves!
What is the reason of this terrible summons?
What is the matter there? Signior, is all your family within?
Are your doors locked? Why? Wherefore ask you this?
Zounds, sir, you're robb'd!
Your heart is burst, you've lost half your soul,
even now, now, very now,
an old black ram is tupping your white ewe!
(CROWD GASPING)
Arise, I say, or else the devil will make a grandsire of you!
Arise! What?
Have you lost your wits?
Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?
Not I, what are you?
My name is Roderigo.
The worser welcome! (LAUGHTER)
I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say my daughter is not for thee.
Sir, sir, sir!
And now in madness, being full of supper and distempering draughts,
upon malicious bravery dost thou come to start my quiet?
Patience, good sir!
What tell'st thou me of robbing?
This is Venice. (CHEERING)
My house is not a grange.
Most grave Brabantio, in simple and pure soul
I come to you.
Sir, you are one of those that will not serve God,
if the devil bid you.
Because we come to do you service, and you think we're 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 jennets for Germans.
What profane wretch art thou?
I am one, sir, that comes to tell you
that your daughter and the Moor
are now making the beast with two backs.
Thou art a villain! (CROWD CLAMOURING)
You are a senator!
This thou shalt answer. I know thee, Roderigo!
Sir, I will answer anything, but I beseech you,
if't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
as partly I find it is,
that your fair daughter at this odd-even and dull watch o'th' night,
transported with no worse nor better guard
but with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
to the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor...
(CROWD CLAMOURING)
if this be known to you, and your allowance,
why, we then have done you bold and saucy wrongs.
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.
Straight satisfy yourself!
(CROWD CLAMOURING) (CHANTING) Satisfy yourself!
Satisfy yourself! Satisfy yourself!
Satisfy yourself!
His daughter, if he has not given her leave,
I say again, hath made a gross revolt,
tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes
in an extravagant and wheeling stranger of here and everywhere.
If she be in her chamber or your house,
let loose on me the justice of the state for thus deluding you.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Give me a taper.
Call up all my people.
This accident is not unlike my dream,
and belief of it oppresses me already.
Light, I say, light!
Farewell, for I must leave you.
For though I do hate the Moor as I do hell pains,
yet for necessity of present life must I show out a flag
and sign of love, which is indeed but sign.
That you shall surely find him,
lead to the Sagittary the rais'd search,
and there will I be with him. And so farewell.
(SHOUTING)
It is too true an evil...
that gone she is,
and what's to come of my despised time is nought but bitterness.
Now Roderigo, where didst thou see her?
O unhappy girl!
With the Moor, say'st thou?
Who would be a father?
How didst thou know 'twas she? I prithee, signior.
O, she deceives me past thought!
Get more tapers, raise all my kindred.
(CLAMOURING)
What said she to you? Are they married, think you?
Truly, sir, I think they are.
O heaven, how got she out?
O treason of the blood!
Fathers, from hence...
trust not your daughters' minds by what you see them act.
Is there not charms
by which the property of youth and maid hood may be abus'd?
Have you not read, Roderigo, of some such thing?
Yes sir, I have indeed. O, would you had had her!
Call up my brother, Gratiano! Some one way, some another.
Do you know where we may apprehend her and the Moor?
I think I can discover him,
if you please to get good guard and go along with me.
Pray you lead on.
At every house I'll call, I may command at most:
Get weapons, ho! (CLAMOURING) Weapons!
And raise some special officers of night.
On, good Roderigo, I'll deserve your pains.
(CROWD Chanting) Satisfy yourself! Satisfy yourself!
Satisfy yourself!
Though in the trade of war I have slain men
yet do I hold it very stuff o'th' conscience to do
no contriv'd murder:
I lack iniquity sometimes to do me service.
Nine or ten times I had thought to have yerk'd him here,
under the ribs. 'Tis better as it is.
Nay, but he prated and spoke such scurvy,
provoking terms against your honour,
that with the little godliness I have I did full hard forbear him.
But I pray, sir, are you fast married?
Be assur'd of this, her father, Brabantio, is much belov'd
and hath in his effect
a voice potential as double as the duke's:
he will divorce you or put upon you what restraint or grievance the law,
with all his might to enforce it on, will give him cable.
Let him do his spite.
My services, which I have done the signiory,
shall out-tongue his complaints.
'Tis yet to know -
which, when I know that boasting is an honour, I shall promulgate -
I fetch my life and being from men of royal siege,
and my demerits may speak unbonneted
to 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 worth.
But look, what lights come yond?
Those are the raised father and his friends,
you were best go in.
Not I, I must be found.
My parts, my title and my perfect soul shall manifest me rightly.
Is it they? By Janus, I think no.
The servants of the duke? And my lieutenant?
The goodness of the night upon you, friends. What is the news?
The duke does greet you, general,
and he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,
even on the instant. What's the matter, think you?
Something from Cyprus, as I may divine;
it is a business of some heat.
When, being not at your lodging to be found,
the Senate hath sent about three several quests to search you out.
'Tis well I am found by you:
I will but spend a word here in the house and go with you.
Ensign...
what makes he here?
Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land car rack:
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.
I do not understand.
He's married. To whom?
Marry, to... RODERIGO: In here!
(SHOUTING) Brabantio!
General, be advis'd, he comes to bad intent.
Signior, it is the Moor.
Down with him, thief! You, Roderigo! Come, I am for you.
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)
Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
Good signior, you had more command with years than with your weapons.
O thou foul thief,
where hast thou stow'd my daughter?
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her,
for I'll refer me to all things of sense,
whether a maid so tender, fair and happy,
so opposite to marriage that she shunn'd
the wealthy, curled darlings of our nation,
would ever have, t'incur a general mock,
run from her guard age to the sooty bosom of such a thing as thou?
Lay hold upon him! Hold your hands...
both you of my inclining and the rest:
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it without a prompter.
Where would you that I go to answer this your charge?
To prison... Hmm!
till fit time of law, and course of direct session
call thee to answer. What if I do obey?
How may the duke be therewith satisfied,
whose messengers are here about my side upon some present business
of the state, to bring me to him?
'Tis true, most worthy signior.
The duke's in council,
and your noble self I am sure is sent for.
How?
The duke in council? In this time of the night?
(LAUGHS)
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 shall our statesmen be.
(TENSE STRING MUSIC) (FIRE CRACKLES)
(MUSIC ENDS)
There is no composition in these news that gives them credit.
Oh, indeed, they are disproportion'd.
My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.
And mine a hundred forty. And mine two hundred.
Yet do they all confirm a Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
Nay, it is possible enough to judgement.
Here is more news. Ah!
The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes,
have there injointed with an after fleet of thirty sail;
and now they do re-stem their backward course,
bearing with frank appearance their purposes toward Cyprus.
'Tis certain then for Cyprus.
Stand at ease. Here comes the Moor.
Valiant Othello,
we must straight employ you against the general enemy Ottoman.
I did not see you: welcome, gentle signior,
we lacked your counsel and your help tonight.
So did I yours.
Good your grace, pardon me,
but neither my place nor aught I heard of business
hath rais'd me from my bed,
nor doth the general care take hold on me,
for my particular grief is of so flood-gate
and o'erbearing nature
that it engluts and swallows other sorrows and it is still itself.
Why? What's the matter? My daughter!
O my daughter! Dead?
Ay, to me:
She is abus'd,
stolen from me and corrupted by spells and medicines
bought of mountebanks:
For nature so preposterously to err sans witchcraft could not.
Whoe'er he be,
that in this foul proceeding
hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself,
and you of her,
well, the bloody book of law you shall yourself read,
in the bitter letter, after your own sense, yea,
though our proper son stood in your action.
Humbly I thank your grace. Oh.
Here is the man, this Moor.
We are very sorry for't.
CROWD: We are very sorry for it!
(LOW, TENSE MUSIC)
What in your own part can you say to this?
Nothing, but this is so.
Most potent, grave...
and reverend signiors,
my very noble and approv'd good masters:
That I have taken away this old man's daughter,
it is most true;
true, I have marri'd her.
Filthy black Moor! (CLAMOURING)
The very head and front of my offending hath this extent,
no more.
Rude am I in my speech
and little blessed with the soft phrase of peace,
for since these arms of mine had seven years' pith
till now some 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 and battle,
and therefore little shall I grace my cause in speaking for myself.
Sooty ram! CROWD: Yay!
Yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver of my whole course of love.
What drugs, what charms, what conjuration and what mighty magic,
for such proceedings I am charg'd withal,
I won his daughter. WOMAN: Sorcerer!
And she, in spite of nature,
of years, of country, credit, everything,
to fall in love with what she fear'd to look on?
It is a judgement maim'd and most imperfect
that will confess perfection so could 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 conjur'd to this effect he wrought upon her.
To vouch this is no proof,
without more certain and more overt test.
(CROWD CLAMOURING)
Othello, speak:
Did you by indirect and forced courses
subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
I prithee, send for the lady to the Sagittary,
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 not only take away,
but let your sentence even fall upon my life.
Fetch Desdemona hither.
Ensign, conduct them, you best know the place.
And till she come,
as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood
so justly to your grave ears will I present
how I did thrive in this fair lady's love
and she in mine. Say it, Othello.
Her father loved me,
oft invited me,
still question'd me the story of my life
from year to year -
the battles, sieges, fortunes that I have pass'd.
I ran it through,
even from my boyish days to the very moment that he bade me tell it:
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
of moving accidents by flood and field,
of hair-breadth scapes in the imminent deadly breach,
of being taken by the insolent foe and sold to slavery...
Hang him! (CLAMOURING)
(SHUSHING)
of my redemption thence
and portance in my travel's history;
wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven -
it was my hint to speak. Such was my process.
This to hear would Desdemona seriously incline,
but still the house affairs would draw her thence,
which ever as she could with haste dispatch...
(HISSES) ..she'd come again,
and with a greedy ear devour up my discourse...
Hang him!
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 she had something heard but not intentively.
I did consent,
and often did beguile her of her tears
when I did speak of some distressful stroke that my youth suffered.
My story being done she gave me for my pains a world of sighs,
she swore in faith 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange,
'twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful;
she wish'd she had not heard it,
yet she wish'd heaven had made her such a man.
She thank'd me and bade me that if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story and that would woo her.
Upon this hint I spake:
She lov'd me for the dangers that I had pass'd
and I lov'd her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft that I have used.
WOMAN: Oh, there she is. Here comes the lady,
let her witness it. (CROWD CLAMOURING)
Quiet! Quiet!
I think this tale would win my daughter too.
I pray you, hear her speak.
If she confess that she was half the wooer,
destruction on my head if my bad blame light on the Moor.
Do you perceive, in all this noble company,
where most you owe obedience?
My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty.
To you I am bound for life and education:
My life and education both do learn me how to respect you;
you are the lord of duty, I am hitherto your daughter.
But here's my husband.
And so much duty as my mother show'd to you,
preferring you before her father,
so much I challenge I may profess due to Othello my lord.
(CROWD CLAMOURING) MAN: Strumpet!
Come hither, Moor:
I here do give thee that with all my heart
which, but thou hast already,
with all my heart I would keep from thee.
And for your sake, jewel...
I am glad at soul I have no other child,
for thy escape would teach me tyranny to hang clogs on them.
I have done, my lord.
Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence.
But words are words:
I never yet did hear that the bruis'd heart
was pierced through the ear.
(WHISPERS) Aye.
Huh... haste!
Post haste!
I beseech you.
My lords, proceed to the affairs of state.
The Turk, with a most mighty preparation,
makes for Cyprus.
Othello, the fortitude of the island is best known to you,
and, although we have there a substitute
of most allowed sufficiency, yet... opinion throws a safer voice on you.
You must therefore be prepared to slubber the gloss
of your new fortunes
with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.
The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
hath made the flinty and steel couch of war my thrice-driven bed of down.
I do agnize a natural and prompt alacrity I find in hardness,
and do undertake this present war against the Ottomite.
Most humbly therefore, bending to your state,
I crave fit disposition for my wife,
due reverence and place of exhibition,
with accommodation and be sort, as levels with her breeding.
Why, at her father's. I'll not have it so.
Nor I. Nor I.
I would not therein reside, to put my father in impatient thoughts
by being in his eye.
Most gracious Duke,
to my unfolding lend your prosperous ear
and let me find a charter in your voice to assist my simpleness.
What would you, Desdemona?
That I did love Othello to live with him... Mm!
my downright violence and scorn of fortunes
may trumpet to the world.
My heart's subdu'd even to the very quality 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 lords,
if I be left behind, a moth of peace,
and he go to the war...
the rites for which I love him are bereft me,
and I a heavy interim shall support by his dear absence.
Let me go with him.
Your voices, lords:
beseech you let her will have free way.
Let her have your voice.
And vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not to please
the palate of my appetite,
nor to comply with heat,
the young affects in me defunct, and proper satisfaction,
but to be free and bounteous to her mind.
And heaven defend your good souls
if you think I will your great and serious business scant
when she is with me. No.
Let housewives make a skillet of my helm
and all indign and base adversities make head against my reputation.
Be it as you shall privately determine,
either for her stay or going:
th'affair cries haste and speed must answer it.
You must away tonight.
This night.
At nine I'th' morning here we'll meet again...
And, noble signior, if virtue no delighted beauty lack
your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
(CHUCKLES)
Adieu, brave Moor,
use Desdemona well, huh?
Look to her, Moor...
if thou hast eyes to see:
She has deceived her father, and may thee.
My life upon her faith.
Tonight, my lord?
With all my heart.
(GENTLE STRING MUSIC) (LAUGHING)
(CAMERAS CLICKING)
(CLICKING INTENSIFIES)
(CLICKING STOPS)
Honest Iago,
my Desdemona must I leave to thee:
I prithee,
let thy wife attend on her and bring them after in the best advantage.
Come, Desdemona,
I have but an hour of love,
of worldly matter and direction to spend with thee.
We must obey the time.
(SOMBRE STRING MUSIC)
(MUSIC ENDS) I will incontinently drown myself.
If thou dost, I shall never love thee after.
Why, thou silly gentleman?
It is silliness to live when to live is torment;
and then have we a prescription to die, when death is our physician.
O villainous!
Ere I would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen
I would change my humanity with a baboon.
What should I do?
I confess it is my shame to be so fond,
but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
Virtue? A fig!
'Tis in ourselves that we are thus, or thus.
If the balance 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 stings, our unbitted lusts.
It cannot be.
It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will.
Come, be a man!
Drown thyself?
Drown cats and blind puppies.
It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love for the Moor
when she is sated with his body
she will find the error of her choice:
she must have change, she must.
Therefore, a pox of drowning thyself,
it's clean out of the way:
seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy
than to be drowned and go without her.
Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue?
Thou art sure of me.
I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again,
I hate the Moor.
My cause is hearted, thine hath no less reason:
let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him.
Therefore, put money in thy purse.
If thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure,
me a sport.
There are many events in the womb of time,
which will be delivered.
Traverse, go, provide thy money:
we shall hear more of this tomorrow. Adieu!
Where shall we meet I'th' morning? At my lodgings.
I'll be with thee betimes. Go to, farewell.
Do you hear, Roderigo? What say you?
No more of drowning, do you hear?
I am changed.
I'll sell all my land. (LAUGHS)
(LOW, TENSE MUSIC)
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
(LAUGHS) For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane
if I would time expend with such a snipe
but for my sport... and profit.
I hate the Moor.
And it is thought abroad...
that 'twixt my sheets he's done my office.
I know not if it be true,
but 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.
Huh? (HISSES)
(LAUGHS) Yah!
Let me see now,
to get his place,
and to plume up my will in double knavery.
(GRUNTS) How?
How?
Let me see.
I have it.
It is engender'd!
Hell and night
must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
(DISTANT CHEERING, APPLAUDING)
(THUNDERCLAP) (RAIN PATTERING)
(RUMBLING)
(TENSE, DRAMATIC STRINGS)
(HIGH-PITCHED RINGING)
(LOUD SPLASH)
What from the cape can you discern at sea?
Nothing at all, it is a high-wrought flood.
If that the Turkish fleet be not enshelter'd and embay'd,
they are drown'd.
It is impossible to bear it out.
News, gentlemen: our wars are done!
(LAUGHING)
The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks
that their designment halts. Ha!
I pray Othello be safe,
for we were parted with foul and violent tempest.
O, let the heavens give him defence against the elements.
MAN: A sail! A sail, a sail!
I pray you sir, go forth and give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd.
I shall. (LAUGHING)
But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd?
Most fortunately:
He hath achiev'd a maid that paragons description and wild fame;
one that excels the quirks of blazoning pens
and in th'essential vesture of creation does tire the inginer.
Lieutenant! O, behold,
the riches of the ship is come on shore:
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees!
I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me of my lord?
He is not yet arriv'd,
nor know I aught but that he's well, and will be shortly here.
O but I fear, how lost you company?
The great contention of the sea and skies parted our fellowship.
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!
A sail! A sail, a sail!
But hark! A sail! See for the news.
Good Ensign, you are welcome.
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.
Sir, would she give you so much of her lips as of her tongue
she oft bestows on me you'd have enough.
Alas! She has no speech.
In faith, too much!
You shall not write my praise. No, let me not.
What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?
Gentle lady, do not put me to it, for I am nothing if not critical.
Oh, come! Assay.
I am not merry,
but I do beguile the thing I am by seeming otherwise.
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
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 lab ours and thus she is deliver'd:
If she be fair and wise,
fairness and wit,
the one's for use, the other useth it.
Well praised.
How if she be black and witty?
Oh. (CHUCKLING)
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
she'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.
Worse and worse.
How if fair and foolish?
She never yet was foolish that was fair,
for even her folly help'd her to an heir.
O, most lame and impotent!
Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband.
How say you, Cassio, is he not the most profane and liberal counsellor?
He speaks home, madam,
you may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar.
(TENSE CHORDS)
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 trap thee in thine own courtesies.
(TRUMPET PLAYING IN DISTANCE) The Moor! I know his trumpet!
'Tis truly so. Let's meet and receive him.
Lo, where he comes! Oh.
(PANTING)
O my fair warrior!
My dear Othello! (LAUGHS)
It gives me wonder great as my content to see thee here before me!
Were I now to die 'twere now to be most happy,
for I fear my soul hath her content so absolute
that not another comfort like to this succeeds in unknown fate.
The heavens forbid but that our loves and comforts should increase
even as our days do grow.
Amen, sweet powers! Uh!
Oh! Huh!
I cannot speak enough of this content,
it stops me here, it is too much of joy.
And this, and this the greatest discords be
that ever our hearts shall make.
(TENSE STING)
(CHUCKLES) O, you are well tun'd now:
but I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
as honest as I am.
Come, let us to the castle.
(LOW, TENSE STRING MUSIC)
(MUSIC ENDS) Come hither, Roderigo:
if thou be'st valiant - list me.
Cassio tonight watches on the court of guard.
First... I must tell thee this:
Desdemona is directly in love with him.
W... With Cassio?
Why-Why, 'tis not possible.
Lay thy finger thus, let thy soul be instructed.
Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor,
what, for bragging and telling her fantastical lies -
and will she love him still for prating?
Her eye must be fed,
and what delight will she have to look on the devil?
She is full of most blessed condition.
Blessed 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 not see her paddle with the palm of Cassio's hand?
Didst not mark that? Yes, that I did,
but that was but courtesy. Lechery, by this hand:
Their lips met so near that their breaths embraced together.
But, sir, be you ruled by me.
I have brought you from Venice:
watch you tonight.
For the command, I'll lay it upon you.
Cassio knows you not,
I'll not be far from you.
Do you find some occasion to anger him,
either by speaking too loud or tainting his discipline.
Well.
Sir, he's rash and very sudden in choler,
and haply may strike at you with his truncheon:
provoke him that he may,
for even out of this will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny.
I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity.
I warrant thee. Meet me tonight at the citadel:
I must fetch the Moor's necessaries ashore.
Farewell. Adieu.
(DISCORDANT CHORDS)
That Cassio loves her,
I do well believe it,
that she loves him,
'tis apt and of great credit.
The Moor, howbeit I endure him not,
is of a constant, loving, noble nature,
and I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona a most dear husband.
Huh! (LAUGHS)
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 stand the putting on,
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb,
make the Moor love me... (CROWD SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY)
thank me, reward me,
for making him egregiously an ass,
and practising upon his peace and quiet...
even to madness.
(CROWD CHEERING) (CHEERING STOPS ABRUPTLY)
(STRINGS PLAYING GENTLE TUNE OVER INTENSIFYING PERCUSSION)
(PERCUSSION STOPS ABRUPTLY) (LOW, TENSE MUSIC)
Hup!
All offices are open,
and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour
of five until the bell hath told eleven.
(LAUGHING)
ALL: Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus.
And our noble general Othello! Well, well...
Ha-ha, come on!
Good Michael...
look you to the guard tonight.
Let's teach ourselves
that honourable stop not to out sport discretion.
Iago hath direction what to do,
but notwithstanding with my personal eye will I look to't.
Iago is most honest, Michael, good night.
Tomorrow with your earliest let me have speech with you.
Come, my dear love. Mm.
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue:
That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
Ah! (LAUGHS)
Good-night.
(FAINT ATMOSPHERIC CHORDS)
Welcome, Iago, we must to the watch.
Not this hour, lieutenant, it's not yet ten o'th' clock.
Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona -
who therefore let us not blame;
he hath not yet made wanton the night with her,
and she is sport for Jove.
She's a most exquisite lady.
And I'll warrant her full of game.
Indeed she's a most fresh and delicate creature.
Mm!
What an eye she has!
Methinks it sounds a parley to provocation.
An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.
And when she speaks is it not an alarum to love?
She is indeed perfection. Well: happiness to their sheets!
Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine,
and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants
that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello.
Not tonight, good Iago,
I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.
I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom
of entertainment. O, they are our friends.
I have drunk but one cup tonight, and that was craftily qualified too,
and behold what innovation it makes here!
But one cup, I'll drink for you.
I am unfortunate in the infirmity,
and dare not task my weakness with any more.
What, man, 'tis a night of revels, the gallants desire it.
(CHUCKLES)
Where are they? Here, at the door,
I pray you call them in.
I'll do it,
but it, um... dislikes me.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT)
If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
with that which he hath drunk tonight already,
he will be as full of quarrel and offence
as my young mistress' dog.
(FAINT, TENSE MUSIC)
(WHOOSHING) 'Fore God,
they have given me a rouse already.
(CLAMOURING) Good faith,
a little one, not past a pint, as I'm a soldier.
Some wine, boys! (CLAMOURING)
ALL: (Drunkenly) ♪ Stephen was and-a worthy peer
♪ His breeches cost him but a crown
♪ He held them sixpence all too dear
♪ With that he called the tailor lown
♪ He was a wight of high renown
♪ And thou art but of low degree
♪ 'Tis pride that pulls the country down
♪ Then take thine auld cloak about thee
Well, God's above all,
and there be souls must be saved,
and there be souls must not be saved.
That's true, lieutenant.
For mine own part, no offence to the general nor any man of quality,
I hope to be saved. Oh, so do I too, lieutenant.
Ay, but, by your leave, not before me. Oh!
The lieutenant is to be saved before the ensign.
(CLAMOURING) Let's have no more of this!
Gentlemen let's look to our business.
(CLAMOURING)
Do not think, gentlemen, that I am drunk. No, no.
This is my ensign, this is my right hand.
(CLAMOURING)
This is my left. (CLAMOURING)
I am not drunk now:
I can stand well enough, and I speak well enough.
Excellent well. Very well then;
you must not think then that I am drunk.
(CLAMOURING) (SCREAMS)
Zounds, you rogue! You rascal!
What's the matter, lieutenant? A knave teach me my duty?
I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle! Beat me?
Dost thou prate, rogue?
Nay, good lieutenant! I pray you, sir, hold your hand.
Let me go, sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.
Come, come, you're drunk.
Drunk?
Away, I say, go out and cry a mutiny. A mutiny, I say!
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) Lieutenant!
Help, masters, here's a goodly watch indeed.
(SHOUTING CONTINUES) (BELL RINGING)
The town will rise. I bleed still!
I am hurt to th' death: he dies!
Hold, for your lives! (SHOUTING DIES DOWN)
Hold, the general speaks to you: hold, for shame!
He that stirs next, to carve for his own rage, holds his soul light.
(BELL KEEPS RINGING)
(GRUNTING) He dies upon his motion.
Oh! Silence that dreadful bell!
It frights the isle from her propriety.
(BELL STOPS RINGING)
What is the matter, masters?
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving, speak: who began this?
Upon my love I charge thee.
I do not know, friends all. I cannot speak.
How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?
I pray you pardon me, I cannot speak.
(SNIFFING)
Worthy Montano, you were won't to be civil:
The gravity and stillness of your youth the world hath noted,
and your name is great in mouths of wisest censure.
What is the matter that you unlace your reputation thus
and spend your rich opinion for the name of a night-brawler?
Give me answer to it.
Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:
Your officer Iago can inform you, while I spare speech.
Now, by heaven, my blood begins my safer guides to rule
and passion, having my best judgement collied,
assays to lead the way.
Ss... ts-ts-ts-ts-ts...
Zounds, if I once stir, or do but lift this arm,
the best of you shall sink in my rebuke.
Give me to know how this foul rout began...
who set it on...
and he that is approv'd in this offence,
though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, shall lose me.
What, in a town of war yet wild,
the people's hearts brimful of fear,
to manage private and domestic quarrel?
In night, and on the court and guard of safety?
'Tis monstrous.
Iago, who began it?
Touch me not so near.
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
than it should do offence to Michael Cassio.
More of this cannot I report.
But men are men,
the best sometimes forget.
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
as men in rage strike those that wish them best,
yet Cassio did, I believe, receive from him that fled
some strange indignity which patience could not pass.
I know, Iago, thy love and honesty doth mince this matter,
making it light to Cassio.
Cassio...
I love thee...
but never more be officer of mine.
Look if my gentle love be not rais'd up!
I'll make thee an example. Come away to bed.
Iago, look you with care about the town
and silence those whom this vile brawl hath distracted.
Come, Desdemona.
'Tis the soldier's life to have their balmy slumbers
wak'd with strife.
(FAINT, SOMBRE MUSIC)
(SOBBING) Oh!
What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Ay, past all surgery.
Marry, God forbid! Reputation, reputation, reputation!
O, I have lost my reputation,
I've lost the immortal part of myself -
and what remains is bestial.
As I am an honest man
I thought you had received some bodily wound;
there is more of sense in that than in reputation.
(CHUCKLES) You have lost no reputation at all,
unless you repute yourself such a loser.
Drunk?
And speak parrot? And squabble? Swagger? Swear?
God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths,
to steal away their brains!
That we should with joy, pleasance, revel and applause,
transform ourselves into beasts! I drunk?
You, or any man living, may be drunk at some time, man.
I'll tell you what you shall do.
Our general's wife is now the general.
Confess yourself freely to her,
importune her help to put you in your place again.
This broken joint between you and her husband
entreat her to splinter
and I'll wager,
this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.
You advise me well. Nay.
I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.
Betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona
to undertake for me.
I'm desperate of my fortunes if they check me here.
You are in the right.
Good-night, lieutenant, I must to the watch.
Good-night...
honest Iago.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT)
(LAUGHING)
What's he then that says
I play the villain?
When this advice is free
I give and honest,
probal to thinking
and indeed the course to win the Moor again?
How am I a villain
to counsel Cassio to this parallel course
directly to his good?
Divinity of hell!
When devils will the blackest sins put on
they do suggest at first with heavenly shows
as I do now.
For whiles this honest fool plies Desdemona
to repair his fortune,
and she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
I'll pour this pestilence into his ear:
That she repeals him for her body's lust.
And by how much she strives to do him good
she shall undo her credit with the Moor -
so will I turn her virtue into pitch
and out of her own goodness make the net
that shall enmesh them all.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT) (ROARS)
How now, Roderigo?
I do follow here in the chase not like a hound that hunts,
but one that fills up the cry.
My money is almost spent,
I have been tonight exceedingly well cudgelled,
and I think the issue will be
I shall have so much experience for my pains:
and so, with no money at all, and a little more wit,
return again to Venice.
How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
Thou know'st we work by wit and not by witchcraft,
and wit depends on dilatory time.
Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,
and by that small hurt thou hast cashier'd Cassio.
Ha! Though other things grow fair against the sun,
fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.
(SPITS) Content thyself a while.
By the mass, 'tis morning:
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee, go where thou art billeted.
Iago, I... Away, I say, you shall hear more of this tomorrow.
But, but... Nay, get thee gone.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT) (SIGHS)
Away! No device... delay!
(EMILIA CHUCKLING) Oh...
(LAUGHING)
Good morrow, good lieutenant.
I am sorry for your displeasure,
but all will sure be well.
The general and his wife are talking of it,
and she speaks for you stoutly;
the Moor replies that he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus
and that in wholesome wisdom he might not but refuse you;
but he protests he loves you and needs no other suitor
but his likings to take the safest occasion
by the front to bring you in again.
Yet I beseech you, if you think fit, or that it may be done,
grant me advantage of some brief discourse with Desdemon alone.
Pray you come in,
I will bestow you where you shall have time
to speak your bosom freely.
I'm much bound to you.
(LIVELY PERCUSSIVE RHYTHM)
(MUSIC ENDS)
These letters, Iago, give to the pilot,
and by him do my duty to the Senate.
Well, my good lord, I'll do it.
Be well assured, good Cassio, I will do all my abilities in thy behalf.
Good madam, do,
I warrant it grieves my husband as if the-As if the cause were his.
You do love my lord, you have known him long.
He shall in strangeness stand no further off
than in a politic distance.
Ay, but madam... Assure thee,
if I do vow a friendship I'll perform it to the last article.
Madam, I'll take my leave. Why, stay, hear me speak.
Madam, not now; I'm very ill at ease, unfit for mine own purposes.
Well, do your discretion.
Ha, I like not that.
What dost thou say?
Nothing, my lord; or if - I know not what.
Ah!
Was not that Michael Cassio parted from my wife?
Cassio, my lord? No.
Sure, I cannot think it that he would steal away so guilty-like
seeing you coming. I do believe 'twas he.
How now, my lord?
I have been talking with a suitor here,
a man that languishes in your displeasure.
Who is't you mean?
Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Oh! (CHUCKLES)
Good my lord, if I have any grace or power to move you,
his present reconciliation take:
For if he be not one that truly loves you,
that errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
I have no judgement in an honest face.
I prithee, call him back.
Went he hence now? Yes, faith,
so humbled
that he hath left part of his grief with me to suffer with him.
Good love, call him back.
Not now, sweet Desdemona, another time.
But shall't be shortly? The sooner, sweet, for you.
Shall't be tonight, at supper? No, not tonight.
Tomorrow dinner then? Ay, ay.
Ah! I do not dine at home.
I meet the captains at the citadel.
I prithee name a time... (GRUNTS)
but let it not exceed three days:
in faith, he's penitent.
And yet his trespass is not, almost, a fault to incur a private check.
When shall he come? (GRUNTING)
Tell me, Othello.
I wonder in my soul what you would ask me
that I should deny or stand so mamm'ring on?
Prithee, no more.
Let him come when he will. Hmm...
I will deny thee nothing. Huh?
Hmm...
(CHUCKLES)
Why, this is not a boon,
'tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
or sue to you to do a particular profit to your own person.
Nay, when I have a suit... (CHUCKLES)
wherein I mean to touch your love indeed
it shall be full of poise
and difficult weight and fearful to be granted.
I will deny thee nothing.
Whereon I do beseech thee, grant me this,
to leave me but a little to myself.
(LAUGHS) Oh!
Oh, shall I deny you?
No, farewell, my lord.
Farewell, my Desdemona. (LAUGHING)
Psst! Huh?
I'll come to thee straight.
Emilia, come.
(BOTH LAUGHING)
Perdition catch my soul but I do love thee!
See!
And when I love thee not... chaos is come again.
(CLEARS THROAT)
(GRUNTING, CHUCKLING)
(GRUNTING)
My noble lord... What dost thou say, Iago?
Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my lady,
know of your love?
He did. Ah.
Ay, from first to last.
(CHUCKLES)
Why dost thou ask?
But for a satisfaction of my thought, no further harm.
Oh.
Why of thy thought, Iago?
I did not think he had been acquainted with her.
O yes.
And... went between us very oft. Indeed?
Indeed. Ay, indeed.
(GRUNTING)
Uh...
Discern'st thou aught in that?
Is he not honest? Honest, my lord?
Honest? Ay, honest. My lord, for aught I know.
What dost thou think? Think, my lord?
Think, my lord! By heaven, thou echo'st me
as if there were some monster in thy thought too hideous to be shown.
Thou dost mean something,
I heard thee say even now thou lik'st not that
when Cassio left my wife.
What didst not like? Hmm?
And when I told thee he was of my counsel
in my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed?'
and didst contract and purse thy brow
as if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain some horrible conceit.
If thou dost love me show me thy thought.
My lord, you know I love you. I think thou dost.
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more.
For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn...
I think he's honest.
I think so too.
(GRUNTING)
Men should be what they seem.
Certain, men should be what they seem.
Why then...
I think Cassio's an honest man.
I think so too.
Nay, yet there's more in this. Ah...
I prithee speak to me,
as to thy thinkings, as thou dost ruminate,
and give thy worst of thoughts the worst of words.
Pardon me, my lord, though I am bound to every act of duty
I am not bound to that which all slaves are free to -
utter my thoughts.
Why, say they are vile and false?
As where's that palace wherein to foul things sometimes intrude not?
Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
if thou but think'st him wrong'd and mak'st his ear a stranger
to thy thoughts. Pardon me,
it were not for your quiet nor your good
nor for my manhood, honesty and wisdom to let you know my thoughts.
Zounds! What dost thou mean?
Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash -
'tis something-nothing, 'twas mine, 'tis his,
has been slave to thousands -
but he that filches from me my good name
robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed.
By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts!
You cannot, if my heart were in your hands,
nor shall not whilst 'tis in my custody.
Ha!
O beware, my lord, of jealousy!
It's the green-eyed monster, which doth mock
the meat it feeds on.
That cuckold lives in bliss
who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger,
but O, what damned minutes tells he o'er who dotes yet doubts,
suspects yet strongly loves! O misery!
Poor and content is rich, and rich enough,
but riches fine less is as poor as winter
for him who ever fears he shall be poor.
Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend from jealousy.
Why? Hmm?
Why is this?
Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy
to follow still the changes of the moon with fresh suspicions?
No.
To be once in doubt is once to be resolv'd.
Exchange me for a goat when I shall turn the business of my soul
to such exsufflicate and blown surmises, matching thy inference.
It is not to make me jealous to say my wife is fair,
feeds well, loves company, is free of speech,
sings, plays, dances well:
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous.
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw the smallest doubt
or fear of her revolt,
for she had eyes and chose me.
No, Iago, I'll see before I doubt,
and when I doubt, prove, and on the proof...
Ss, ts-ts-ts-ts-ts-ts-ts!
there's no more but this:
Away at once with love or...
jealousy!
(TUTTING)
I'm glad of this...
for now I shall have reason to show the love and duty
that I bear you with franker spirit:
therefore, as I am bound, receive it from me.
I speak not yet of proof: Look to your wife.
Observe her well with Cassio.
Wear your eyes thus, not jealous nor secure;
I would not have your free and noble nature out of self-bounty be abus'd:
look to it.
I know our country disposition well,
in Venice they do let God see the pranks
they dare not show their husbands;
their best conscience is not leave it undone, but keep it unknown.
(CHUCKLES) Dost thou say so?
She did deceive her father, marrying you.
(HIGH-PITCHED RINGING, VOICES WHISPERING)
And when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks,
she loved them most.
Why, so she did. Why, go to then:
She that so young could give out such a seeming
to seel her father's eyes up, close as oak.
He thought 'twas witchcraft. (VOICES WHISPERING)
But I am much to blame,
I humbly do beseech your pardon for too much loving you.
I am bound to thee for ever.
I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.
No, not a jot, not a jot. I'faith, I fear it has.
I hope you will consider what is spoke comes from my love.
(CHUCKLES)
But I do see you're mov'd. No, not much mov'd.
I do not but think Desdemona's honest. Long live she so.
And yet...
how..
nature, erring from itself... Ay, there's the point:
As, to be bold with you,
not to affect many proposed matches
of her own clime, complexion and degree,
whereto we see, in all things, nature tends -
but pardon me, I do not in position distinctly speak of her.
Yeah, farewell, farewell. (CHUCKLES)
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more:
Set on thy wife to observe.
Leave me, Iago.
My lord, I take my leave.
(PERCUSSIVE NOTE)
(LOW, TENSE MUSIC)
(CLEARS THROAT) Huh!
(PANTING)
Why did I marry?
This honest creature
doubtless sees and knows more - much more - than he unfolds.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT) My lord...
I would I might beseech your honour
to scan this thing no farther.
Leave it to time. Mm?
Although 'tis fit that Cassio have his place,
for sure he fills it up with great ability,
but if it please you to hold him off a while
you shall by that perceive him, and his means:
Note if your lady strain his entertainment
with any strong or vehement importunity,
much will be seen in that.
In the meantime let me be thought too busy in my fears -
as worthy cause I have to fear I am - and hold her free,
I humbly do beseech your honour. Fear not my government.
I once more take my leave.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT)
(PANTING)
(LOW, TENSE MUSIC)
This fellow's of exceeding honesty
and knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, of human dealings.
If I do prove her haggard...
(METALLIC SWOOSHING)
though that her Jesses were my dear heart-strings,
I'd whistle her off
and let her down the wind to prey at fortune.
Haply for I am black... DISTORTED VOICE: 'Black.'
and have not those soft parts of conversation that chamberers have,
or for that I am declin'd into the vale of years - yet that's not much.
O curse of marriage... (METALLIC SWOOSHING)
that we can call these delicate creatures ours...
but not their appetites!
Oh! Oh, I had rather be a toad
and live upon the vapour of a dungeon
than keep a corner in the thing I love for others' uses.
(GRUNTS)
She's gone.
I am abus'd,
and my relief must be...
to loathe her.
(RAPID PERCUSSIVE RHYTHM)
(SCREAMS)
(PERCUSSIVE RHYTHM INTENSIFYING)
(PERCUSSIVE RHYTHM STOPS)
(GRUNTING)
(PANTING)
(PANTING CONTINUES)
(MOANING)
(PANTING STOPS)
(APPLAUSE)
(INDISTINCT AUDIENCE CHATTER)
(STRINGS PLAYING SOMBRE TUNE)
(LOW, TENSE PERCUSSIVE MUSIC)
Lodovico!
(SIGHS)
Thine uncle Brabantio was a good man.
Shh!
(SOBBING)
There. Come on.
(MUSIC CONTINUES)
(PULSATING RHYTHM)
(MUSIC ENDS) Othello!
Look where she comes:
(LAUGHING)
If she be false, why then heaven mocks itself,
I'll not believe't. How now, my dear Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous islanders by you invited,
do attend your presence.
I am to blame.
Why do you speak so faintly? Are you not well?
I have a pain upon my forehead, here.
Oh, faith, that's with watching. Oh.
'Twill away again.
Let me bind it hard within this hour, and all shall be well.
Your napkin is too little.
Come, I'll go in with you. Oh.
I'm very sorry you're not well.
Ooh! Hey!
(CLICKING)
I am glad I have found this napkin.
This was her first remembrance from the Moor.
My wayward husband hath a hundred times wooed me to steal it,
but she so loves the token - for she...
he conjur'd her she should ever keep it -
that she reserves it evermore about her to kiss and talk to.
I'll have the work copied and give't Iago.
What he will do with it Heaven knows, not I,
I nothing, but to please his fantasy.
(CLICKING) How now!
What do you here alone?
Do not you chide, I have a thing for you.
You have a thing for me?
It is a common thing. Huh?
To have a foolish wife.
O, is that all? (SIGHS)
What will you give me now for that same handkerchief?
What handkerchief? What handkerchief?
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona,
that which so often you did bid me steal.
Hast stolen it from her?
No, faith, she let it drop by negligence
and, to th'advantage, I being here, took't up.
Look, here it is. (GIGGLING)
A good wench.
Give it me. (CONTINUES GIGGLING)
(LAUGHING)
(GASPING)
What will you do with it,
that you have been so earnest to have me filch it?
Why, what's that to you?
If it be not for some purpose of import give't me again.
Poor lady, she'll run mad when she shall lack it.
I have use for it.
M'wah! Go, leave me.
(GIGGLING)
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT, CLICKING)
I will in Cassio's lodging
lose this napkin and let him find it.
Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong
as proofs of holy writ.
(THUNDERCLAP)
Ha!
This may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison.
Look where he comes.
Not poppy nor man drag or a nor all the drowsy syrups of the world
shall e'er medicine thee
to that sweet sleep which thou owedst yesterday.
(THUNDERCLAP)
(LAUGHING)
False to me?
Why, how now, general? No more of that.
Avaunt, be gone, thou hast set me on the rack!
I swear 'tis better to be much abus'd
than but to know't a little. How now, my lord?
What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust?
I saw't not, I thought it not,
it harmed not me,
I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and merry;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips -
he that is robb'd, not missing what is stolen, let him not know it,
and he's not robb'd at all. I'm sorry to hear this.
I had been happy if the general camp, pioneers and all,
had tasted her sweet body, so I had nothing known.
Ha!
Now for ever farewell the tranquil mind!
Farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troops and the big wars that make ambition virtue!
Farewell, pride, pomp, circumstance of glorious war!
Othello's occupation's gone. Is't possible?
Villain, be sure thou prov'st my love a whore, be sure of it,
give me the ocular proof, or by the worth of man's eternal soul
thou hadst been better been born a dog than to answer my naked wrath!
Is't come to this? Make me to see it,
or at least so prove it
that the probation bear no hinge nor loop to hang a doubt on,
or... ts-ts... woe upon thy life! My noble lord!
If... thou dost slander her...
and torture me,
huh, never pray more,
abandon all remorse;
On horror's head horrors accumulate,
do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd,
for nothing canst thou to damnation add greater than that!
O grace! O heaven forgive me!
Are you a man?
Have you a soul, or sense? (GRUNTS)
Good monstrous world!
Take note, take note, O world,
to be direct and honest is not safe.
I thank you for this profit,
and from hence I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence.
Nay, stay, thou shouldst be honest.
I should be wise, for honesty's a fool.
By the world, I think my wife be honest,
and I think she is not,
I think that thou art just, and I think that thou art not.
I would have some proof. Would I were satisfied!
You would be satisfied? Would? Nay, and I will!
And may, but how? How satisfied, my lord? Ay! Ay!
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on?
Behold her topp'd? Death and damnation!
What then? How? What shall I say? Where is satisfaction?
It's impossible you should see this were they as prime as goats,
as hot as monkeys, as salt as wolves in pride,
and fools as gross as ignorance made drunk.
Give me the living reason she's disloyal.
I do not like the office. Uh!
But since I am entered in this cause so far,
prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love,
I will go on.
(RAIN PATTERING)
I lay with Cassio lately...
and being troubl'd with a raging tooth I could not sleep.
There are a kind of men so loose of soul
that in their sleep will mutter their affairs -
one of this kind is Cassio.
In sleep I heard him say...
(LOW, SOMBRE MUSIC)
'O sweet Desdemona, let us be wary,
let us hide our loves, '
and then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
and cry 'O sweet creature!'
and then kiss me hard...
as if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots that grew upon my lips,
lay his leg o'er my thigh,
and kiss, and sigh,
and then cry 'O cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!'
Monstrous!
Have you not sometimes seen
a handkerchief spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand?
I gave her such a one, 'twas my first gift.
Oh! I know not that,
but such a handkerchief, I am sure it was your wife's,
did I today see Cassio wipe his beard with.
If it be that... If it be that, or any that was hers,
it speaks against her with the other proofs.
O that this slave had forty thousand lives!
One is too weak, too poor, for my revenge.
Now do I see 'tis true.
Look here, Iago...
all my fond love do I thus blow to heaven:
(TENSE, SOMBRE STRINGS) 'Tis gone!
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell.
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne to tyrannous hate!
Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, for 'tis of aspics' tongues!
Yet be content! Blood, blood, blood!
Patience, your mind may yet change.
Never, Iago. (METALLIC Ringing)
Like to the Pontic Sea
whose icy current and compulsive course ne'er feels retiring ebb
but keeps due on to the Propontic and the Hellespont:
Even so my bloody thoughts with violent pace shall ne'er look back,
ne'er ebb to humble...
love till that a capable and wide revenge swallow them up.
Now by yond marble heaven in due reverence of a sacred vow
I here engage my words.
Do not rise yet. (GRUNTS)
Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
you elements that clip us about,
witness that here Iago doth give up the execution
of his wit, hands, heart,
to wrong'd Othello's service.
I greet thy love not with vain thanks
but with acceptance bounteous,
and will upon the instant put thee to't.
Within these three days...
let me hear thee say that Cassio's...
not...
alive.
My friend is dead,
It is done - at your request.
But let her live.
Come, go with me apart;
I will withdraw and furnish me with some swift means of death
for the fair devil.
(SIGHS)
(PANTING)
Now art thou my lieutenant.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT, CLICKING)
(METALLIC RINGING, RUSTLING)
I am your own...
for ever.
(CROWD ROARING)
(ROARING STOPS ABRUPTLY)
Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?
(STAMMERS) I know not, madam.
Believe me, I had rather lost my purse full of crusadoes;
and but my noble lord is true of mind,
and made of no such baseness as jealous creatures are,
it were enough to put him to ill-thinking.
Huh!
(CLEARS THROAT) Is he not jealous?
Who, he? (CHUCKLES)
I think the sun where he was born drew all such humours from him.
(GASPS) Oh! (LAUGHS)
How is't with you, my lord? Uh, well...
Good... my lady.
Huh!
O hardness to dissemble!
How do you, Desdemona?
Well, my good lord. Give me your hand.
(CHUCKLES)
This hand is moist, my lady.
It hath yet felt no age, nor known no sorrow.
That argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:
Hot... hot and moist.
Here's a young and sweating devil, here, that commonly rebels.
It is a good hand, a frank one.
You may indeed say so, for 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.
Ha! An honest hand.
The hearts of old gave hands but our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
(LAUGHING)
I cannot speak of this.
Come, now, your promise. What promise, chuck?
I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
I- I...
I have a salt and sullen rheum offends me.
Lend me your handkerchief.
Here, my lord. Nay, that which I gave you.
I have it not about me. Not?
No, faith, my lord. That's a fault.
That handkerchief did an Egyptian to my mother give.
She was a charmer and could almost read the thoughts of people.
She told her, while she kept it 'twould make her amiable
and subdue my father entirely to her love;
but if she lost it or made a gift of it,
my father's eye would hold her loathed,
and hunt after new fancies.
She, dying, gave it me
and bade me, when my fate would have me wive, to give it her.
I did so, and - take heed on it!
Make it a darling, like your precious eye!
Is't possible? 'Tis true.
There's magic in the web of it.
The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk.
I'faith, is't true? Most veritable, therefore look to't well.
Then would to God that I had never seen't! Ha! Wherefore?
Why do you speak so star tingly and rash?
Is it lost?
Is it gone?
Speak, is it out of the way? Ugh! Heaven bless us!
Say you? It is not lost,
but what and if it were?
How? I say it is not lost.
Oh! (LAUGHS)
Fetch it, let me see it. Why, so I can, sir;
but I will not now.
This is a trick to put me from my suit.
I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again.
Fetch me the handkerchief, my mind misgives.
Oh, come, come, you'll never meet a more sufficient man.
The handkerchief! I pray, talk me of Cassio.
The handkerchief!
A man that all his time hath founded his good fortunes on your love,
he shared dangers with you. The handkerchief!
I'faith, you are to blame. Zounds!
(LAUGHS)
Is not this man jealous?
I never saw this before.
Sure there is some wonder in this handkerchief;
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
'Tis not a year or two shows us a man.
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food:
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, they belch us.
Look you, Cassio and my husband.
No other way, 'tis she must do't, and lo, the happiness!
Go and importune her.
How now, good Cassio, what's the news with you?
Madam, my former suit.
If my offence be of such mortal kind
that nor my service past nor present sorrows
can ransom me into his love again, then to know so must be my benefit.
Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio, my advocation is not now in tune.
My lord is not my lord,
nor should I know him were he in favour as in humour alter'd.
You must awhile be patient.
Is my lord angry?
He went hence but now, and certainly in strange unquietness.
Can he be angry? Something of moment then.
I will go meet him. M'wah!
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
I prithee do so.
Something sure of state either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practice
made demonstrable here in Cyprus, hath puddled his clear spirit.
Nay, we must think men are not gods
nor of them look for such observancy as fits the bridal.
EMILIA: Pray heaven it be state matters, as you think,
and no conception nor no jealous toy, concerning you.
Alack the day, I never gave him cause.
But jealous souls will not be answer'd so:
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
but jealous for they're jealous.
T'is a monster begot upon itself, born on itself.
Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind!
Lady, amen.
I will go seek him out.
Cassio, walk you here about.
If I find him fit I will move your suit.
(STRINGS PLAYING HIGH NOTES)
Save you, friend Cassio!
What make you from home?
How is't with you, my most fair Bianca?
I'faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.
And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
What, keep a week away?
Seven days and nights?
Eight score eight hours?
And lovers' absent hours more tedious than the dial,
eight score times!
O weary reckoning!
Pardon me, Bianca, I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd,
but I shall in a more continuate time strike off
this score of absence. Sweet Bianca!
(SNIFFS) O Cassio, whence come this?
This is some token from a newer friend!
To the felt absence now I feel a cause: Is't come to this?
Well, well. Go to, woman,
throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth
from whence you have them! You are jealous now...(CHUCKLES)
that this is from some mistress, some remembrance:
No, by my faith, Bianca.
Why, whose is it? I know not neither.
I found it in my chamber. I like the work well.
Take it, and leave me for this time. Leave you? Wherefore?
I do attend here on the general
and think it no addition, nor my wish, to have him see me woman'd.
Why, I pray you? Not that I love you not.
But that you do not love me.
(STRINGS PLAYING HIGH NOTES)
(LAUGHING)
Oh, I pray you, bring me on the way a little,
and say if I shall see you soon at night.
'Tis but a little way that I can bring you for I attend here,
but I'll see you soon.
(LAUGHS)
'Tis very good:
I must be circumstanc'd.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT) Will you think so?
Think so, Iago?
What? To kiss in private? An unauthorised kiss!
Or to be naked with her friend in bed an hour or more,
not meaning any harm?
Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm?
It is hypocrisy against the devil:
They that mean virtuously, and do so, the devil their virtue tempts,
and they tempt heaven.
So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip.
But if I give my wife a handkerchief...
What then? Why, then 'tis hers,
and being hers she may, I think, bestow it on any man.
She is protectress of her honour too: May she give that?
Her honour is an essence that's not seen,
they have it very oft that have it not.
But for the handkerchief...
By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it!
Thou said'st... uh!
It comes o'er my memory as doth the raven o'er the infectious house
boding to all - he had my handkerchief.
What if I had said
I had seen him do you wrong?
Or... heard him say...
What hath he said?
Faith, that he did...
I know not what.
That he did... What?
Lie. With her?
With her, on her, what you will.
Lie with her? (SINISTER DISTORTED VOICE)
Lie on her? We say lie on her when they belie her!
Lie with her, zounds, that's... that's fulsome!
Handkerchief! Confession! Han... Handkerchief!
To-To confess and be hanged for his lab our!
First to be hanged, then to confess it:
(METALLIC WHOOSHING) Ow!
I tremble at it.
Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion
without some instruction.
It's not words that shakes me thus. (METALLIC RINGING) Pish!
Ears, noses, lips. (LAUGHS)
It's-Is't possible? (RINGING INTENSIFIES)
(GRUNTING)
Devil!
(GRUNTS)
(METALLIC WHOOSHING)
Work on.
My medicine, work!
Thus credulous fools are caught,
and many worthy and chaste dames
even thus, all guiltless, meet reproach.
What ho! Othello! Our General!
How now, Cassio? What's the matter?
My lord is fallen into an epilepsy.
This is his second fit, he had one yesterday.
Rub him about the temples. No. No, forbear:
The lethargy must have his quiet course.
If not, he foams at mouth,
and by and by breaks out into savage madness.
Look, he stirs.
Do you withdraw yourself a while, he will recover straight.
When he is gone I would on great occasion speak with you.
How now, my lord? Have you not hurt your head?
Huh?
Dost thou mock me?
I mock you? No, by heaven!
Would you would bear your fortunes like a man!
Did he confess it?
Good sir, be a man.
Stand you a while apart. Do but encave yourself.
And mark the fleers and gibes and notable scorns
that dwell in every 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 again to cope your wife.
Dost thou hear, Iago?
I will be found most cunning in my patience - but dost thou hear?
Most bloody.
That's not amiss, but yet keep time in all.
Will you withdraw?
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT, CLICKING)
As Cassio shall smile, the Moor shall go mad.
(CLICKING)
How do you, lieutenant?
The worser, that you give me that name: lieutenant.
Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on it.
Now if this suit lay in Bianca's power
how quickly would you speed!
(BOTH LAUGHING) Alas, poor wretch!
(METALLIC WHOOSHING)
Look how he laughs already! (METALLIC WHOOSHING)
I never knew woman love man so.
Alas, poor rogue, I think I'faith she loves me.
Do you hear, Cassio?
She gives it out that you shall marry her.
Do you intend it?
(LAUGHS) (METALLIC WHOOSHING)
Do you triumph, Roman, do you triumph?
(METALLIC WHOOSHING) I marry!
What, a customer!
Prithee bear some charity to my wit, do not think it so unwholesome.
(LAUGHS)
(METALLIC WHOOSHING) So, so, so, they laugh that win.
(METALLIC WHOOSHING)
Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.
Prithee say true! I am a very villain else.
This is the monkey's own giving out.
She haunts me in every place, and falls me thus about my neck -
so hangs and lolls and weeps upon me, so shakes and pulls me!
Oh, let the devil and his dam haunt you!
What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now?
Cos I was a fine fool to take it.
A likely piece of work,
that you should find it in your chamber
and know not who left it there!
This is some minx's token!
There, give it your hobby-horse; wheresoever you had it.
How now, my sweet Bianca, how now, how now?
(METALLIC WHOOSHING)
By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!
Mm! (METALLIC WHOOSHING)
M'wah!
If you'll come to supper tonight, you may;
if you will not, come when you're next prepared for.
(LAUGHS) After her, after her!
Faith, I must, she'll rail in the streets else.
How shall I murder him, Iago?
Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?
O Iago! And did you see the handkerchief?
I would have him nine years a-killing.
A fine woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman!
Nay, you must forget that. Ay.
Let her rot and perish and be damned tonight, for she shall not live.
No, my heart is turned to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand.
But the world hath not a sweeter creature:
she might lie by an emperor's side and command him tasks.
Nay, that's not your way. I hang her!
I do but say what she is:
so delicate with her needle, an admirable musician.
She will sing the savageness out of a bear!
Of so high and plenteous wit and invention!
She's the worse for all this. O, a thousand, a thousand times:
And then of so gentle a condition. Ay, too gentle.
Oh, that's... That's most certain.
Yet the pity of it, Iago... (GRUNTS)
Iago, the pity of it!
If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend,
for if it touches not you it comes near nobody.
I will chop her into messes! Ugh!
Cuckold me! O, 'tis foul in her.
With mine officer! That's fouler.
I'll not expostulate with her,
lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again.
This night, Iago.
And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker.
You shall hear more by midnight. Ay.
(TRUMPET CALL)
I warrant something from Venice.
'Tis Lodovico, this, comes from the duke.
See, your wife's with him.
God save you, worthy general.
With all my heart, sir.
The duke and senators of Venice greet you.
I- I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?
I am very glad to see you, signior. Welcome to Cyprus.
I thank you.
How does Lieutenant Cassio?
Lives, sir. (CHUCKLES)
Cousin, there's fallen between him and my lord an unkind breach,
but you shall make all well. Are you sure of that?
My lord? This fail you not to do...
Uh, he did not call, he's busy in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio? Mm.
A most unhappy one:
I would do much to atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.
Fire and brimstone! My lord?
Are you wise? What, are you angry?
Uh, maybe the letter moved him.
For, as I think, they do command him home, deputing Cassio...
Ah! ..In his government.
By my troth, I'm glad on it. Indeed!
My lord?
(GASPS) I'm glad to see you mad.
Why, sweet Othello?
Devil! I have not deserved this.
My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice
though I should swear I saw it.
'Tis very much.
Make her amends. The devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears
each drop she falls would prove a crocodile:
Out of my sight! I will not stay to offend you.
Truly, an obedient lady.
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.
(WHISTLES) Mistress!
(OTHELLO WHISTLING)
What would you with her, sir? Who, I, my lord?
Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn.
Sir, she can turn, and then turn, and yet go on and turn again.
And she can weep, sir, weep.
And she's obedient: as you say, obedient, very obedient.
Proceed you in your tears.
Concerning this, sir... Ah! Well-painted passion!
I am commanded home.
Get you away. I'll send for you anon.
Sir, I will obey the mandate and, uh... huh, return to Venice.
(SNIFFING)
Oh!
Hence, avaunt!
(LAUGHING)
Cassio shall have my place.
And, sir,
I do entreat that tonight we may sup together.
(KISSES FINGERS)
You're welcome, sir, to Cyprus.
Huh!
Goats and monkeys!
(LOW, OMINOUS STRINGS)
(LAUGHING)
(EXCLAIMS) Ooh!
Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate call all in all sufficient?
Is this the nature whom passion could not shake?
Whose solid virtue the shot of accident nor dart of chance
could neither graze nor pierce?
He is much chang'd.
Are his wits safe?
Is he not light of brain?
He's that he is: I may not breathe my censure what he might be.
What! Strike his wife!
Faith, that was not so well;
yet would I were sure that stroke would prove the worst.
Is it his use?
Alas, alas!
It's not honesty in me to speak what I have seen and known.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT, CLICKING)
(LOW, TENSE STRINGS)
(TICKING)
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT)
So...
Uh... huh! Huh!
You've seen nothing, then? Nor ever heard.
Yes, you've seen Cassio and she together.
But then I saw no harm.
What, did they never whisper?
Never, my lord.
Nor send you out of the way? Never.
To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
Never, my lord. That's strange.
Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bosom.
If she be not honest, chaste and true there's no man happy.
Bid her come hither; go.
(METALLIC SWOOSHING)
She says enough;
yet she's a simple bawd that cannot say as much.
This is a subtle whore,
a closet, lock and key, of villainous secrets;
And yet she'll kneel and pray, I have seen her do it.
(METALLIC SWOOSH)
(CLEARS THROAT)
My lord, what is your will?
Let me see your eyes.
Look in my face.
What horrible fancy's this?
Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words but not the words.
Why, what art thou?
Your wife, my lord: your true and loyal wife.
Swear thou art honest! Heaven doth truly know it.
Heaven truly knows thou art false as hell.
To whom, my lord? With whom?
How am I false? Away, Desdemona, away, away!
Alack the heavy day, why do you weep?
Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
Had it pleased heaven to try me with afflictions,
had they rained all kinds of sores and shames on my bare head,
steeped me in poverty to the very lips,
given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
I should have found in some place of my soul a drop of patience.
I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
O, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles
that quicken even with blowing.
Thou weed that art so lovely fair
and smell'st so sweet
that the sense aches at thee,
would'st thou had ne'er been born!
Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
Was this fair paper,
this most goodly book made to write 'whore' upon?
What committed! By heaven, you do me wrong.
What, thou are not a strumpet? No.
What, not a whore?
No.
Is't possible? (LAUGHS) O heaven, forgive us!
I- I cry you mercy then.
(TENSE, SOMBRE STRINGS)
I- I took thee for that cunning whore of Venice...
that married with Othello. (SOBBING)
(STRINGS SWELLING)
(BREATHING HEAVILY)
(STRINGS STOP, HEAVY BREATHING CONTINUES)
Good madam... Argh!
what's the matter with my lord? With whom?
Why, with my lord, madam. Who is thy lord?
He that is yours, sweet lady. I have none.
Ugh, do not talk to me, Emilia;
I cannot weep, nor answers have I none,
but what should go by water.
Prithee, tonight lay on my bed my wedding sheets; remember.
And call thy husband hither.
Here's a change indeed!
Is it meet I should be used so?
How have I behav'd that he might stick the small'st opinion
on my greatest misuse?
Alas, Iago...
my lord hath so bewhor'd her, that true hearts cannot bear it.
Why did he so? I do not know;
I am sure I am none such.
Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
her father, and her country, and her friends,
to be called whore?
Would it not make one weep?
I will be hang'd
if some eternal villain, some busy and insinuating rogue,
some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
hath not devis'd this slander, I'll be hang'd else!
Fie, there is no such man, it is impossible.
Why should he call her whore?
Who keeps her company?
What place, what time, what form, what likelihood?
The Moor's abus'd by some most villainous knave,
some scurvy fellow.
Speak within doors. Fie upon them!
Some such squire he was that turned your wit the seamy side without
and made you to suspect me with the Moor.
You are a fool,
go to.
(SIGHS)
O God, Iago.
What shall I do to win my lord again?
Good friend, go to him,
for, by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him.
Here I kneel: If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love
either in discourse or thought or actual deed,
or that mine eyes, mine ears or any sense delighted them
in any other form, or that I do not yet,
and ever did, and ever will -
though he do shake me off to beggarly divorcement -
love him dearly,
comfort forswear me!
Unkindness may do much,
and his unkindness may defeat my life but never taint my love.
(TRUMPET CALL)
Hark how these instruments summon to supper:
Go in, and weep not.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT, CLICKING)
All things shall be well.
(HURRIED FOOTSTEPS)
(CLEARS THROAT)
How now, Roderigo?
I do not find that thou deal'st justly with me.
What? In the contrary.
Every day thou doff'st me with some device, Iago,
and rather, as it seems to me now, keep'st from me all conveniency
than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope.
Roderigo... I will indeed no longer endure it;
nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace
what already I have foolishly suffered.
Will you hear me, Roderigo? Faith...
I have heard too much;
and your words and performances are no kin together.
You charge me most unjustly.
The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desdemona
would half have corrupted a nun!
(CHUCKLING)
You have told me she hath received them... Mm-hmm.
and returned me expectations and comforts
of sudden respect and acquittance,
but I find none.
Very well, go to.
'Very well, ' 'go to'!
I cannot go to, man, nor 'tis not very well.
Very well.
I tell you, 'tis not very well!
I will... make myself known to Desdemona.
If she will return me my jewels
I will give over my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation.
If not...
assure yourself...
Wo-ho-ho!
that I will seek satisfaction of you.
Why, now I see there's mettle in thee,
and even from this instant
do build on thee a better opinion than ever before.
Give me your hand, Roderigo.
Thou hast taken against me a most just exception -
but yet I protest I have dealt most directly in thy affair.
It hath not appeared.
Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed
which I have greater reason to believe now than ever -
I mean purpose, courage, and valour -
this night show it.
If thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona,
then take me from this world
with treachery and devise engines for my life.
Well - what is it? Is it within reason and compass?
Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice
deputing Cassio in Othello's place. Is that true?
Why, then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice.
O no, he goes into Mauretania
and taketh away with him the fair Desdemona,
unless his abode be lingered here by some accident -
wherein none can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio.
How do you mean, the removing of him?
Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place:
by knocking out his brains.
(LAUGHING)
(LOW, TENSE STRINGS)
And that you would have me to do! Ay.
If you dare do yourself a profit and a right.
He sups tonight with a harlot, and thither will I go to him.
He knows not yet of his honourable fortune:
if you will watch his going thence -
which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one -
you may take him at your pleasure.
I will be near at hand to second the attempt,
and he shall fall between us.
Come, stand not amazed at it, but go with me:
I will show you such a necessity in his death
that you will think yourself bound to put it upon him.
It is now high supper time, and the night grows to waste:
about it.
I will hear further reason for this.
And you shall be satisfied.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT)
LODOVICO: Madam, good night: I humbly thank your ladyship.
Your honour is most welcome.
Will you walk, sir?
O, Desdemona. My lord?
Get you to bed on th'instant, I'll be return'd forthwith.
Dismiss your attendant there: look't be done.
I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.
Pardon, sir, 'twill do me good to walk.
(GENTLE STRING MUSIC)
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT) How goes it now?
He looks gentler than he did.
He hath commanded me to go to bed and bid me to dismiss you.
Dismiss me?
Mm.
It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia,
give me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
Ay.
Would you had never seen him!
So would not I.
My love doth so approve him...
that even his stubbornness,
his checks, his frowns -
ugh, prithee unpin me - have grace and favour.
Oh! (GASPS)
I laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.
All's one.
Oh, good faith, how foolish are our minds!
If I do die before thee,
prithee shroud me in one of these same sheets.
Come, come, you talk.
My mother had a maid called Barbary.
She was in love,
and he she lov'd prov'd mad and did forsake her.
She had a song of 'willow',
an old thing 'twas, but it expressed her fortune
and she died singing it.
And that song tonight will not go from my mind.
I have much to do but to go hang my head all at one side
and sing it like poor Barbary.
Prithee dispatch.
(CLEARS THROAT)
(SOBS)
This Lodovico is a proper man.
A very handsome man!
I know a lady from Venice would have walked barefoot
to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.
♪ The poor soul sat sighing
♪ By a sycamore tree
♪ Sing all a green willow
♪ Her hand on her bosom
♪ Her head on her knee
♪ Sing willow, willow, willow
♪ Her salt tears fell from her
♪ And murmured her
♪ Moans
♪ Sing willow ♪
Lay by these.
Prithee hie thee: he will come anon.
Uh, sing...
♪ All a green willow must be my garland
♪ Let nobody blame him
♪ His scorn I approve ♪
Nay! (LAUGHS)
Nay, that's not next.
(LAUGHS)
(CLATTERING)
Hark, who's it that knocks?
(CLATTERING CONTINUES)
(BREATHING HEAVILY)
It's the wind.
(LAUGHING)
(IMITATES CLATTERING, LAUGHS)
It's the wind. (CONTINUES LAUGHING)
(LAUGHING) Oh!
Oh, get thee gone; get thee gone, good night.
Mine eyes do itch, doth that bode weeping?
'Tis neither here nor there.
I have heard it said so.
O, these men!
These men!
Dost thou in conscience think - tell me, Emilia -
that there be women do abuse their husbands in such gross kind?
There be some such, no question.
Wouldst thou do such a thing for all the world?
Why, would not you?
No, by this heavenly light!
Nor I neither, by this heavenly light:
I might do it as well in the dark.
(LAUGHS)
Wouldst thou do such a thing for all the world?
The world is a huge thing.
It's a great price for a small vice.
Good troth, I think thou wouldst not.
By my troth, I think I should,
and undo't when I had done.
Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring,
nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns,
petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition.
But for all the whole world?
Ud's pity, who would not make her husband a cuckold
to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for't.
Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong for all the world!
Why, the wrong is but a wrong in the world;
and having the world for your lab our,
'tis a wrong in your own world,
and you might quickly make it right.
I do not think there is any such women.
Yes, a dozen,
and as many to th' vantage as would store the world they played for.
But I do think it is their husbands' faults if wives do fall.
Say they slack their duties
and pour our treasures into foreign laps;
or else break out in peevish jealousies,
throwing restraint upon us; or say they st...
Or say they strike us...
or scant our former having in despite, why, we have galls:
and though we have some grace yet have we some revenge.
Let husbands know their wives have sense like them:
they see, and smell,
and have their palates both for sweet and sour as husbands have.
What is it that they do when they change us for others?
Is it sport?
I think it is.
And doth affection breed it?
I think it doth.
Is't frailty that thus errs?
It is so too.
And have not we affections?
Desires for sport? And frailty, as men have?
Then let them use us well.
Else let them know, the ills we do...
their ills instruct us so.
(FAINT, SOMBRE STRINGS)
(SOBBING)
Good night.
God me such usage send not to pick bad from bad,
but by bad mend!
(MUSIC CONTINUES)
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT) (MUSIC ENDS) IAGO: Here.
Stand behind this bulk,
straight will he come.
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home;
Quick, quick, fear nothing.
I'll be at thy elbow.
It makes us or it mars us, think on that,
and fix most firm thy resolution.
Be near at hand, I may miscarry in't.
I'll be at thy hand: be bold, take thy stand.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT, CLICKING) (LAUGHING)
I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense
and he grows angry.
Now, whether he kill Cassio or Cassio him,
or each do kill the other, every way makes my gain.
Live Roderigo, he calls me to a restitution large
of gold and jewels
that I bobb'd from him as gifts to Desdemona:
It must not be.
If Cassio do remain
he hath a daily beauty in his life
that makes me ugly;
and besides, the Moor may unfold me to him -
there stand I in much peril.
No, he must die.
And so be it!
I hear him coming.
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT, CLICKING)
I know his gait, 'tis he.
Villain!
(GRUNTING)
(ROARING)
(GRUNTING)
(GROANING) (DRAMATIC ORCHESTRAL CHORD)
Ha! Oh!
Help, ho!
Murder! Murder! (GROANING)
Help, ho!
Light! A surgeon!
Nobody come?
Then shall I bleed to death.
LODOVICO: Did not you hear a cry? CASSIO: Here, here!
GRATIANO: What's the matter? For heaven's sake help me!
IAGO: What's he here that cries so grievously?
Oh, Iago?
I'm undone, slain by villains! Give me some help.
O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this?
I think that one of them is hereabouts and cannot make away.
Oh... That's one of them.
Murderous slave! Villain!
O damned Iago!
(GRUNTING)
Inhuman... dog!
What, kill men in the dark?
Where be these bloody thieves?
Murder! Murder!
Signior Lodovico? He, sir.
Signior Gratiano? I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by villains.
Cassio? I'm sorry to find you thus; I have been sent to seek you.
What is the matter, ho? Who is't that cried?
O Cassio, Cassio! Alas, he faints. O notable strumpet!
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash to be a party in this injury.
Have patience, good Cassio, lend me a light.
Come, come, show we this face, or no?
(GRUNTS)
Alas, my friend and my dear countryman, Roderigo?
No! O heaven, Roderigo!
What, of Venice?
Ay, sir. You knew him?
Know him? Ay.
How do you, Cassio?
Some good gentleman bear him hence, I'll fetch the general's surgeon.
Stay... mistress!
What, look you pale?
Do you perceive, gentlemen, the gastness of her eye?
Nay, guiltiness will speak.
'Las, what's the matter? Ah!
What's the matter, husband?
Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
by Roderigo and villains that are 'scaped:
Cassio's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
Alas, good gentleman! Alas, good Cassio!
This is the fruits of whoring.
Prithee, Emilia, go know of Cassio where he supp'd tonight.
What, shake you at that?
He supped at my house, but I therefore shake not.
Did he now? I charge you, go with me.
O fie upon thee, strumpet!
I am no strumpet
but of life as honest as you, that thus abuse me.
As I?
Foh, fie upon thee!
Gentlemen, let's go see Cassio dress'd.
Emilia, run you to the citadel
and tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd.
Will you go on afore?
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT, CLICKING)
This is the night that either makes me...
or for does me quite.
(CLICKING, PULSATING RHYTHM)
(RHYTHM INTENSIFIES)
(RHYTHM STOPS)
It is the cause.
It is the cause, my soul!
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars.
It is the cause.
Put out the light, and then put out the light!
Should I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore should I repent me.
But once put out thy light,
thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat that can thy light relume:
When I have pluck'd the rose I cannot give it vital growth again.
It needs must wither.
I'll smell thee on the tree;
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade justice to break her sword!
Once more.
Be thus when thou art dead
and I will kill thee and love thee after.
Once more...
and that's the last.
(BREATHES HEAVILY) So sweet was ne'er so fatal.
I- I must weep, but they are cruel tears.
This sorrow's heavenly, it strikes where it doth love.
She wakes.
Uh! Oh, Othello?
Ay, Desdemona.
Will you come to bed, my lord? Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona?
Ay, my lord.
If you bethink yourself of any crime
unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace,
solicit for it straight.
Alack, my lord, what may you mean by that?
Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit,
no, heaven forfend, I would not kill thy soul.
Talk you of killing? Ay, I do.
Then, heaven, have mercy on me!
I say amen, with all my heart.
If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
Ah! Huh...
And yet I fear you.
Why I should fear I know not, since guiltiness I know not.
And yet I feel I fear.
Think on thy sins. They are loves I bear to you.
Ay, and for that thou diest.
That death's unnatural that kills for loving.
Huh.
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame, these are portents:
and yet I hope, I hope they do not point on me.
Peace, and be still. I will.
So, what's the matter?
That handkerchief which I so lov'd and gave thee,
thou gavest to Cassio. No!
By my life and soul: Send for the man and ask him.
Sweet soul, take heed, take heed of perjury.
Thou art on thy death-bed.
I? But not yet to die! Ay, presently.
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin,
for to deny each article with oath
cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
that I do groan withal. (CLICKING)
Thou art to die. Then heaven have mercy on me.
I say amen.
If you say so.
I never did offend you
in my life.
I never lov'd Cassio
but with such general warranty of heaven as I might love:
I never gave him token.
By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand!
Perjur'd woman, thou dost stone my heart
and makest me call what I intend to do a murder,
which I thought a sacrifice! I saw my handkerchief.
He found it then, I never gave it him.
Send for him hither, let him confess the truth.
He hath confess'd. What, my lord?
That he hath - ud's death! - used thee.
How? Unlawfully? Ay.
He will not say so. No.
His mouth is stopp'd.
Honest Iago hath taken order for't.
O- O, my fear interprets! What, is he dead?
Had all his hairs been lives my great revenge
had stomach for them all.
Alas, he is betray'd,
and I... undone.
Out, strumpet, weep'st thou for him to my face?
O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!
Nay, down, strumpet!
Kill me tomorrow, let me live tonight!
Nay, if you strive... But half an hour!
Being done, there is no pause. But while I say one prayer!
(SOBBING)
(SHOUTS) It is too late!
(METALLIC RINGING)
(SOBBING)
(METALLIC WHOOSHING)
(SOBBING CONTINUES)
(METALLIC BEEPING)
(SUSTAINED BEEP)
(GRUNTS) EMILIA: (ECHOING) 'My lord!
'My lord! What ho!
'My lord, my lord!'
What noise is this?
Not dead? Not quite yet dead?
I that am cruel am yet merciful,
I would not have thee linger in thy pain.
So... (SHOUTS) So!
(ECHOING) 'My lord! My lord!'
Who's there? (ECHOING) 'O good my lord,
'I'd speak a word with you.'
Uh... Yes.
'Tis Emilia. By and by.
She's dead.
It is like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.
The noise was high. Ha...
No more moving?
Still as the grave. Should she come in?
Were't good?
Methinks she stirs again.
Uh... uh!
No.
What's best to do?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife.
My wife... (METALLIC SWOOSHING)
My wife? What wife?
I have no wife.
Uh... uh... insupportable, argh!
Heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse of sun and moon,
and that th'affrighted globe should yawn at alteration.
(ECHOING) 'I do beseech you I may speak with you!
'O good my lord!' (METALLIC RINGING)
I had forgot thee:
O come in, Emilia. By and by.
Where art thou? What is the matter with thee now?
O my good lord, yonder's foul murders done!
What? Now?
But now, my lord.
It is the very error of the moon.
She comes more near the earth than she was won't and makes men mad.
Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian, call'd Roderigo.
Roderigo kill'd?
And Cassio kill'd? No, Cassio is not kill'd.
Not Cassio kill'd?
Then murder's out of tune, and sweet revenge grows harsh.
(COUGHING, GASPING) O falsely, falsely murdered!
O lord, what cry is that? That? What?
Out and alas, that was my lady's voice!
O help!
Help, ho, help!
O lady, speak again, sweet Desdemona,
O sweet mistress, speak!
A guiltless death I die.
O, who hath done this deed?
Nobody.
I myself.
Commend me to my kind lord.
Farewell!
Why, how should she be murder'd?
Alas, who knows?
You heard her say herself it was not I.She said so;
I must needs report the truth.
She's like a liar gone to burning hell:
'Twas I that kill'd her. (GASPING)
O, the more angel she, and you the blacker devil!
Sh-She turned to folly, and she was a whore.
Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.
She was false as water.
Thou art rash as fire to say that she was false.
O, she was heavenly true!
Cassio did top her: ask thy husband else.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell
but that I did proceed on just grounds to this extremity.
Thy husband knew it all. My husband?
Thy husband. That she was false? To wedlock?
Ay, with Cassio.
My husband? Ay!
It was he that told me on her first.
An honest man he is,
that hates the slime that sticks on filthy deeds.
My husband!
What needs this iterance? I say thy husband.
If he say so...
may his pernicious soul rot half a grain a day!
He lies to the heart:
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain!
Ha! Do thy worst:
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven than thou wast worthy her.
Peace, thou were't best!
Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
as I have to be hurt. O gull!
O dolt, as ignorant as dirt!
Thou hast done a deed.
I care not for thy sword.
I'll make thee known though I lost twenty lives.
Emilia! Help!
Help, ho, help!
The Moor hath kill'd my mistress!
Murder!
MONTANO: What is the matter?
How now, general?
O, are you come, Iago?
You have done well that men must lay their murders on your neck.
What is the matter?
Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man;
He says thou told'st him that his wife was false,
I know thou didst not, thou art not such a villain.
Speak, for my heart is full.
I told him what I thought,
and told no more than what he found himself was apt and true.
But did you ever tell him she was false?
I did.
You told a lie, an odious, damned lie!
Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie!
She false with Cassio?
Did you say with Cassio?
With Cassio, mistress.
Go to, charm your tongue.
I will not charm my tongue!
I am bound to speak: My mistress here lies murder'd.
Heavens forfend!
And your reports have set the murder on.
Nay, stare not, masters, 'tis true indeed.
It is a strange truth. Monstrous act!
O villainy, villainy, villainy!
I- I think upon't, I think I smell't, O villainy!
I thought so then: I'll kill myself for grief!
O villainy, villainy!
What, are you mad?
I charge you, get you home.
Good gentlemen... Emilia!
let me have leave to speak.
'Tis proper I obey him - but not now.
Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.
(YELLING)
Nay, lay thee down and roar
for thou hast killed the sweetest innocent that e'er did lift up eye.
O, she was foul. (GASPING)
I scarce did know thee, uncle:
here lies thy niece whose breath, indeed,
these hands have newly stopp'd.
I am glad my brother's dead;
Thy match was mortal to him. 'Tis pitious, yet Iago knows
that she with Cassio hath the act of shame a thousand times committed.
Cassio did confess it,
and she did gratify his amorous works
with that recognisance and pledge of love which I first gave her:
I saw it in his hand.
It was a handkerchief.
An antique token my father gave my mother.
O God, O heavenly God!
Zounds, hold your peace!
'Twill out, 'twill out!
I peace?
Let heaven and men and devils,
let them all, all, all cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.
Be wise. Get you home.
I will not. (SHOUTS)
Fie! Your sword upon a woman?
Thou dull Moor,
that handkerchief thou speak'st of
I found by fortune and did give my husband,
for often, with a solemn earnestness -
more than indeed belong'd to such a trifle -
he begg'd of me to steal't. Villainous whore!
She give it Cassio? No, alas, I found it and did give my husband.
Filth, thou liest!
By heaven I do not, I-I do not, gentlemen!
O murderous coxcomb,
what should such a fool do with so good a wife?
(SOBBING)
Are there no stones in heaven but what serves...
for the thunder?
Precious villain!
(SHOUTING)
(GRUNTING)
The woman falls, sure he hath kill'd his wife.
Ay. He's gone.
Come, guard the door without,
let him not pass but kill him rather.
I'll after that same villain, for 'tis a damned slave.
(SOBBING)
What did thy song bode, lady?
Hark, canst thou hear me?
I'll play the swan and die... in music.
♪ Willow, willow, willow ♪
So come my soul to bliss as I speak true!
Moor!
She loved thee, cruel, cruel...
Moor.
I have done the state some service...
and they know it.
No more of that.
I prithee,
when you, in your letters, shall these unlucky deeds relate,
speak of me as I am.
Nothing extenuate...
nor set down aught in malice.
Then must you speak of one who loved...
not wisely...
but... too well.
Now:
how art thou now?
O ill-starr'd wench,
oh, pale as thy smock.
When we shall meet at compt...
this look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven
and fiends will snatch at it.
It's cold.
My girl...
even like thy chastity.
O curs'd, curs'd slave!
Whip me, ye devils, from the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur,
wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
Desdemona is dead!
Desdemona is dead.
O!
(SHOUTING)
Wrench his sword from him. (GROANING)
I bleed, sir, but not killed.
I'm not sorry neither, I'd have thee live:
For in my sense 'tis happiness to die.
O thou Othello, that wert once so good,
fallen in the practice of a cursed slave,
what shall be said to thee? Why, anything.
An honourable murderer, if you will,
for nought did I in hate, but all in honour.
This wretch hath part confessed his villainy.
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death? Ay.
Dear general, I never gave you cause.
How camest thou, Cassio, by that handkerchief that was my wife's?
I found it in my chamber.
Ha! I do believe thee and ask thy pardon.
I prithee, will you demand this Demi-devil
why he hath thus ensnar'd my body and soul?
Demand me nothing.
From this time forth I nevermore will speak word.
(GRUNTING)
This did I fear.
For he was great of heart.
Why, let it be hid.
Gratiano, keep the house
and seize upon the fortunes of the Moor for they succeed to you.
(LAUGHING)
To you, lord governor,
remains the censure of this hellish villain.
What you know, you know.
(SOMBRE STRING MUSIC)
What you know...
you know. (VOICES WHISPERING)
What you know...
you know.
(STRINGS SWELLING)
(INDISTINCT, DISTORTED VOICES)
(STRINGS SWELLING, VOICES GROWING LOUDER)
(PERCUSSIVE BEAT, VOICES AND STRINGS STOP)
(APPLAUSE)
(CHEERING AND APPLAUSE)
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