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    Othello
    Othello
    Othello
    Ebook188 pages1 hour

    Othello

    By William Shakespeare

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    About this ebook

    William Shakespeare is widely considered to have been the greatest writer in the English language and the world’s greatest dramatist.  More than 400 years after Shakespeare’s death, his plays are still performed more than any other playwright and have been translated into every major language in the world.  This edition of Othello includes a table of contents.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharles River Editors
    Release dateMar 22, 2018
    ISBN9781537803203
    Author

    William Shakespeare

    William Shakespeare is the world's greatest ever playwright. Born in 1564, he split his time between Stratford-upon-Avon and London, where he worked as a playwright, poet and actor. In 1582 he married Anne Hathaway. Shakespeare died in 1616 at the age of fifty-two, leaving three children—Susanna, Hamnet and Judith. The rest is silence.

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      Book preview

      Othello - William Shakespeare

      OTHELLO

      ..................

      William Shakespeare

      KYPROS PRESS

      Thank you for reading. If you enjoy this book, please leave a review or connect with the author.

      All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

      Copyright © 2016 by William Shakespeare

      Interior design by Pronoun

      Distribution by Pronoun

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      Othello

      Character List

      ACT I

      SCENE I. Venice. A street.

      SCENE II. Venice. Another street.

      SCENE III. Venice. A council chamber.

      ACT II

      SCENE I. A seaport in Cyprus. A Platform.

      SCENE II. A street.

      SCENE III. A Hall in the Castle.

      ACT III

      SCENE I. Cyprus. Before the Castle.

      SCENE II. Cyprus. A Room in the Castle.

      SCENE III. Cyprus. The Garden of the Castle.

      SCENE IV. Cyprus. Before the Castle.

      ACT IV

      SCENE I. Cyprus. Before the Castle.

      SCENE II. Cyprus. A Room in the Castle.

      SCENE III. Cyprus. Another Room in the Castle.

      ACT V

      SCENE I. Cyprus. A Street.

      SCENE II. Cyprus. A Bedchamber in the castle: Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning.

      OTHELLO

      ..................

      CHARACTER LIST

      ..................

      DUKE OF VENICE

      BRABANTIO, a Senator

      Other Senators

      GRATIANO, Brother to Brabantio

      LODOVICO, Kinsman to Brabantio

      OTHELLO, a noble Moor, in the service of Venice

      CASSIO, his Lieutenant

      IAGO, his Ancient

      MONTANO, Othello’s predecessor in the government of Cyprus

      RODERIGO, a Venetian Gentleman

      CLOWN, Servant to Othello

      DESDEMONA, Daughter to Brabantio and Wife to Othello

      EMILIA, Wife to Iago

      BIANCA, Mistress to Cassio

      Officers, Gentlemen, Messenger, Musicians, Herald, Sailor, Attendants, &c.

      ________________________________________

      SCENE: The First Act in Venice; during the rest of the Play at a Seaport in Cyprus.

      ________________________________________

      ACT I

      ..................

      SCENE I. VENICE. A STREET.

      ..................

      [Enter Roderigo and Iago.]

      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,

      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 bumbast 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?

      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 practice,

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

      And I,—of whom his eyes had seen the proof

      At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds,

      Christian and heathen,—must be belee’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

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

      Whether I in any just term am affin’d

      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,

      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 lin’d their coats,

      Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;

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

      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 demónstrate

      The native act and figure of my heart

      In complement 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.

      RODERIGO

      What a full fortune does the thick lips 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 color.

      RODERIGO

      Here is her father’s house: I’ll call aloud.

      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?

      RODERIGO

      Signior, is all your family within?

      IAGO

      Are your doors locked?

      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 tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise;

      Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,

      Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:

      Arise, I say.

      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,

      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,

      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 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 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’ the 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,—

      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

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