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    Othello, with line numbers
    Othello, with line numbers
    Othello, with line numbers
    Ebook165 pages1 hour

    Othello, with line numbers

    By William Shakespeare

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    The classic tragedy. According to Wikipedia: "Othello, the Moor of Venice is a tragedy by William Shakespeare, believed to have been written in approximately 1603, based on the short story "Moor of Venice" by Cinthio. The work revolves around four central characters: Othello, his wife Desdemona, his lieutenant Cassio, and his trusted advisor Iago. Attesting to its enduring popularity, the play appeared in 7 editions between 1622 and 1705. Because of its varied themes — racism, love, jealousy and betrayal — it remains relevant to the present day and is often performed in professional and community theatres alike. The play has also been the basis for numerous operatic, film and literary adaptations."
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSeltzer Books
    Release dateMar 1, 2018
    ISBN9781455389575
    Othello, with line numbers
    Author

    William Shakespeare

    William Shakespeare is widely regarded as the greatest playwright the world has seen. He produced an astonishing amount of work; 37 plays, 154 sonnets, and 5 poems. He died on 23rd April 1616, aged 52, and was buried in the Holy Trinity Church, Stratford.

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      Othello, with line numbers - William Shakespeare

      Othello By William Shakespeare

      published by Samizdat Express, Orange, CT, USA
      established in 1974, offering over 14,000 books
      Other tragedies by William Shakespeare:
      Antony and Cleopatra
      Coriolanus
      Hamlet
      Julius Caesar
      King Lear
      Macbeth
      Romeo and Juliet
      Timon of Athens
      Titus Andronicus
      Troilus and Cressida
      feedback welcome: info@samizdat.com
      visit us at samizdat.com

      Dramatis Personae

      Othello

      Act I

      Scene I Venice. A street.

      Scene II Another street.

      Scene III A council-chamber.

      Act II

      Scene I A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.

      Scene II A street.

      Scene III A hall in the castle.

      Act III

      Scene I Before the castle.

      Scene II A room in the castle.

      Scene III The garden of the castle.

      Scene IV Before the castle.

      Act IV

      Scene I Cyprus. Before the castle.

      Scene II A room in the castle.

      Scene III Another room In the castle.

      Act V

      Scene I Cyprus. A street.

      Scene II A bedchamber in the castle: Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning.

      DRAMATIS PERSONAE

      Duke of Venice:

      Brabantio, a senator.

      Other Senators.

       (Senator:)

       (First Senator:)

       (Second Senator:)

      Gratiano, brother to Brabantio.

      Lodovico, kinsman to Brabantio.

      Othello, a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state.

      Cassio, his lieutenant.

      Iago, his ancient.

      Roderigo, a Venetian gentleman.

      Montano, Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus.

      Clown, servant to Othello. (Clown:)

      Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello.

      Emilia, wife to Iago.

      Bianca, mistress to Cassio.

       Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen,

       Musicians, and Attendants.

       (Sailor:)

       (First Officer:)

       (Messenger:)

       (Gentleman:)

       (First Gentleman:)

       (Second Gentleman:)

       (Third Gentleman:)

       (First Musician:)

      SCENE Venice: a Sea-port in Cyprus.

      OTHELLO

      ACT I

      SCENE I Venice. A street.

       [Enter RODERIGO and IAGO]

      (1) RODERIGO Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly

       That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse

       As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.

      IAGO 'Sblood, but you will not hear me:

       If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.

      RODERIGO Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate.

      IAGO Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,

      (10) In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,

       Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man,

       I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:

       But he; as loving his own pride and purposes,

       Evades them, with a bombast circumstance

       Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;

       And, in conclusion,

       Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he,

       'I have already chose my officer.'

       And what was he?

      (20) Forsooth, a great arithmetician,

       One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,

       A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;

       That never set a squadron in the field,

       Nor the division of a battle knows

       More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,

       Wherein the toged consuls can propose

       As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise,

       Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:

       And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof

      (30) At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds

       Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'd

       By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,

       He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,

       And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorship's ancient.

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

      IAGO Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,

       Preferment goes by letter and affection,

       And not by old gradation, where each second

      (40) Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,

       Whether I in any just term am affined

       To love the Moor.

      RODERIGO I would not follow him then.

      IAGO O, sir, content you;

       I follow him to serve my turn upon him:

       We cannot all be masters, nor all masters

       Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark

       Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,

       That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,

      (50) Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,

       For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd:

       Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are

       Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,

       Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,

       And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,

       Do well thrive by them and when they have lined

       their coats

       Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;

       And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,

      (60) It is as sure as you are Roderigo,

       Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:

       In following him, I follow but myself;

       Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,

       But seeming so, for my peculiar end:

       For when my outward action doth demonstrate

       The native act and figure of my heart

       In compliment extern, 'tis not long after

       But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve

       For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

      (70) RODERIGO What a full fortune does the thicklips owe

       If he can carry't thus!

      IAGO Call up her father,

       Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,

       Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,

       And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,

       Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,

       Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,

       As it may lose some colour.

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

      (80) IAGO Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell

       As when, by night and negligence, the fire

       Is spied in populous cities.

      RODERIGO What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!

      IAGO Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves!

       Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!

       Thieves! thieves!

       [BRABANTIO appears above, at a window]

      BRABANTIO What is the reason of this terrible summons?

       What is the matter there?

      (90) RODERIGO Signior, is all your family within?

      IAGO Are your doors lock'd?

      BRABANTIO Why, wherefore ask you this?

      IAGO 'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on

       your gown;

       Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;

       Even now, now, very now, an old black ram

       Is topping your white ewe. Arise, arise;

       Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,

       Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:

      (100) Arise, I say.

      BRABANTIO                   What, have you lost your wits?

      RODERIGO Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?

      BRABANTIO Not I what are you?

      RODERIGO My name is Roderigo.

      BRABANTIO The worser welcome:

       I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:

       In honest plainness thou hast heard me say

       My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,

       Being full of supper and distempering draughts,

      (110) Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come

       To start my quiet.

      RODERIGO Sir, sir, sir,--

      BRABANTIO                   But thou must needs be sure

       My spirit and my place have in them power

       To make this bitter to thee.

      RODERIGO Patience, good sir.

      BRABANTIO What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;

       My house is not a grange.

      RODERIGO Most grave Brabantio,

      (120) In simple and pure soul I come to you.

      IAGO 'Zounds, 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 are ruffians, you'll

       have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;

       you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have

       coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.

      BRABANTIO What profane wretch art thou?

      IAGO I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter

      (130) and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

      BRABANTIO Thou art a villain.

      IAGO You are--a senator.

      BRABANTIO This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.

      RODERIGO Sir, I will answer any thing. 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' the night,

       Transported, with no worse nor better guard

       But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,

      (140) To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor--

       If this be known to you and your allowance,

       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:

       Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,

       I say again, hath made a gross revolt;

       Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes

      (150) In an

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