The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

And often did beguile her of her tears When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer’d. 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 That heaven had made her such a man; she thank’d me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: She loved me for the dangers I had pass’d, And I loved her that she did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft I have used.

Here comes the lady; let her witness it.

Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants.

DUKE. I think this tale would win my daughter too.

Good Brabantio,

Take up this mangled matter at the best: Men do their broken weapons rather use Than their bare hands.

BRABANTIO. 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 man! Come hither, gentle mistress.

Do you perceive in all this noble company Where most you owe obedience?

DESDEMONA. 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 that I may profess Due to the Moor, my lord.

BRABANTIO. God be with you! I have done.

Please it your Grace, on to the state affairs; I had rather to adopt a child than get it.

Come hither, Moor.

I here do give thee that with all my heart Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart I would keep from thee. 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.

DUKE. Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers Into your favor.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.

To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.

What cannot be preserved when Fortune takes, Patience her injury a mockery makes.

The robb’d that smiles steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

BRABANTIO. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile; We lose it not so long as we can smile.

He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears But the free comfort which from thence he hears; But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.

These sentences, to sugar or to gall, Being strong on both sides, are equivocal.

But words are words; I never yet did hear That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.

I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.

DUKE. The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus.

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

OTHELLO. 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

These present wars against the Ottomites.

Most humbly therefore bending to your state, I crave fit disposition for my wife,

Due reference of place and exhibition, With such accommodation and besort

As levels with her breeding.

DUKE. If you please, Be’t at her father’s.

BRABANTIO. I’ll not have it so.

OTHELLO. Nor I.

DESDEMONA. Nor I. I would not there 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.

DUKE. What would you, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA. That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world. My heart’s subdued Even to the very quality of my lord.

I saw Othello’s visage in his mind,

And to his honors 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.

OTHELLO. Let her have your voices.

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, that you think I will your serious and great business scant For she is with me. No, when light-wing’d toys Of feather’d Cupid seel with wanton dullness My speculative and officed instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, And all indign and base adversities

Make head against my estimation!

DUKE. Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay or going. The affair cries haste, And speed must answer’t: you must hence tonight.

DESDEMONA. Tonight, my lord?

DUKE. This night.

OTHELLO. With all my heart.

DUKE. At nine i’ the morning here we’ll meet again.

Othello, leave some officer behind,

And he shall our commission bring to you, With such things else of quality and respect As doth import you.

OTHELLO. So please your Grace, my ancient; A man he is of honesty and trust.

To his conveyance I assign my wife,

With what else needful your good Grace shall think To be sent after me.

DUKE. Let it be so.

Good night to everyone. [To Brabantio.] And, noble signior, If virtue no delighted beauty lack,

Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

FIRST SENATOR. Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.

BRABANTIO. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see; She has deceived her father, and may thee.

Exeunt Duke, Senators, and Officers.

OTHELLO. My life upon her faith! Honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leave to thee.

I prithee, let thy wife attend on her, And bring them after in the best advantage.

Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour

Of love, of worldly matters and direction, To spend with thee. We must obey the time.

Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.

RODERIGO. Iago!

IAGO. What say’st thou, noble heart?

RODERIGO. What will I do, thinkest thou?

IAGO. Why, go to bed and sleep.

RODERIGO. I will incontinently drown myself.

IAGO. If thou dost, I shall never love thee after.

Why, thou silly gentleman!

RODERIGO. It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

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

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

IAGO. Virtue? a fig! ‘Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus.

Our bodies are gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners; so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. 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; whereof I take this, that you call love, to be a sect or scion.

RODERIGO. It cannot be.

IAGO. 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. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favor with an usurped beard. I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor-put money in thy purse-nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration-put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills-fill thy purse with money. The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as acerb as the coloquintida. She must change for youth; when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice. She must have change, she must; therefore put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her-therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! It is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her.

RODERIGO. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue?

IAGO. Thou art sure of me-go, make money. I have told thee often, and I retell 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. 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 will have more of this tomorrow. Adieu.

RODERIGO. Where shall we meet i’ the morning?

IAGO. At my lodging.

RODERIGO. I’ll be with thee betimes.

IAGO. Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

RODERIGO. What say you?

IAGO. No more of drowning, do you hear?

RODERIGO. I am changed; I’ll go sell all my land. Exit.

IAGO. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse; 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 has done my office. I know not if’t 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. Let me see now-To get his place, and