 Dramatis Personae of Othello by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dramatis Personae. Duke of Venice. Read by Philippe Pojoaking. Brabantio, a Senator. Read by 0123. First Senator. Read by David Lawrence. Second Senator. Read by Lucy Perry. Grasiano, brother to Brabantio. Read by Denny Sayers. Lodovico, kinsman to Brabantio. Read by Loesch Rolander. Othello, a noble Moor in the service of Venice. Read by Bruce Perry. Casio, his Lieutenant. Played by Mark Smith. Iago, his Ancient. Read by MB. Montano, Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus. Read by Robert Kuiper. Roderigo, a Venetian gentleman. Read by Matthew Hill. Clown, servant to Othello. Read by Rashada. Harold. Read by Celeste Johnston. Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello. Read by Avaii. Emilia, wife to Iago. Read by Elizabeth Clatt. Bianca, mistress to Casio. Read by Nazine Cadbury. First Gentleman. Read by Zonia. Second Gentleman. Read by Loesch Rolander. Third Gentleman. Read by Miriam Esther Goulton. Fourth Gentleman. Read by Adam Bale. Sailor. Read by Celeste Johnston. First Musician. Read by Nathan King. First Officer. Read by Elizabeth Clatt. Messenger. Read by Adam Bailey. Narrated by Arielle Lipshaw. Act One of Othello by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act One. Scene One. Venice, a street. Enter Rodrigo and Iago. Tush, never tell me. I take it much unkindly that thou Iago, who has had my purse as if the strings would line, should know this. Splod, but you will not hear me. If ever I did dream of such a matter abhor me, thou toldest me and thou dishold him in thy hate. Despise me if I do not. Three great ones of the city in personal suit to make me his lieutenant off-capped 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 stuffed with epithets of war, and, in conclusion, non-suits my mediators. For, sirtease, says he, I have already chose my officer. And what was he? For soothe a great arithmetician, one Michael Cascio of Florentine, a fellow almost damned in a fair wife that never set a squadron in the field, nor the division of a battle-nose more than a spinster. Unless the bookish theoric, wherein the Toga 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 belayed and calmed by debiter and creditor. This countercaster! He, in good time, must his left-headed be an eye. God bless the mark, his moorships ancient. By heaven, I rather would have bent his hangman. Why, there's no remedy. This is the curse of service. Preferment goes by letter and affection, and not by the old gradation where each second stood ere to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, whether I, in any just term, am a fine to love the more. I would not follow him, then. Ah, sir, content you. I follow him to serve my turn upon him. We cannot all be masters, nor all masters cannot be truly followed. You shall mark many a dutious and knee-croaking nave that, doting on his own obsequious bondage, wears out his time, much like his master's ass, for not but provinder. And when he's old, cashiered, whip me such honest knaves. Others there are, who, trimmed 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, it is as sure as you are Roderigo, where either more I would not be Yago. 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, it is not long after, but I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for doors to peck at. I am not what I am. What a full fortune does the thick lip sew, if he can carry it thus. Call up her father, rouse him, make after him, poison his delight, proclaim him in the streets, incense her kinsman, 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 as it may lose some color. Here, sir father's house, I'll call out. Do with like timorous accent and dire yell as when by night in negligence the fire is spied in populous cities. What hole, Brabantio? Signor Brabantio? Awake! What hole, Brabantio? Thieves! Thieves! Thieves! Look to your house, your daughter and your bags! Thieves! Thieves! Brabantio appears above at a window. What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? Signor, is all your family within? Are your doors locked? Why? Why for as good is? Soon, sir, you are robbed! 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 you! Arise, arise! Awake the snorting citizens with the bell! Or else the devil will make a grand sire of you! Arise, I say! What? Have you lost your wits? Most relevant, Signor. Do you know my boys? Not I. What are you? My name is Rodrigo. The words are welcome. I have chose 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 trots, upon Melissa's brivery, dost thou come to start my quiet? Sir, sir, sir. The most needs be sure. My spirit and my place have in them power to make this beta to thee. Patience good, sir. What else doth me of robbing? This is Venice. My house is not a ranch. Well, Scrape of Macho, in simple and pure soul, I come to you. Huzoon, 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 barbery horse. You'll have your nephews' name to you. You'll have coarsers for cousins and tenants for Germans. What rough and rare job thou. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you that your daughter and the more are now making the beast with two backs. Thou art a villain. You are? A senator. This thou shall answer. I know thee, Rodrigo. Sir, I will answer anything, but I beseech you. If it be a pleasure and most wise consent, as partly I find it is, that your fair daughter, at this odd-even and dull watch of the night, transported with no worse, no better guard, but with a nave of common hire, a gondolier, to the gross collapse of a lavishish moor. If this be known to you and your allowance, we have then done you bold and saucy wrongs. But if you know not this, my manners tell me we have your wrong review. Do not believe that, from the sense of all civility, I would thus play in 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, wits, and fortunes, into an extravagant and wheeling stranger, of here and everywhere. Straight satisfy yourself. 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-hole. Give me a tapper. Call of all my people. This accident is not unlike my dream. Belief of it oppresses me already. Light, I say. Light! Exit from above. Farewell, for I must leave you. It seems not, meet nor wholesome to my place to be produced. As if I stay, I shall. Against the moor for I do know the state. However this may gall him with some check, cannot with safety cast him, for he's embarked with such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, which even now stand in act, that for their souls and other of his fathom they have none to lead their business. In which regard, though I do hate him as I do hell-pains, yet for necessity of present life, I must show out a flag and sign of love, which is indeed but sign, that you shall surely find him, lead to the Sagittary, the Raised Search, and there will I be with him. So, farewell. Exit. Enter below Brabantio and servants with torches. It is too true and evil gone, say he is. And what is to come of my despised time is not but bitterness. Noroderego, where did thou see her? O Hanepigal, with your moor says thou, who would be a father? How did thou know it was see? How else it deceives me best, art? What said see to you? Get moor tappers, raise all my kindred. Are they married? Thank you. Truly, I think they are. O heaven, how got she out? O treason of the blood! Fathers from hence trust not your daughter's minds by what you see them act. Are they not charms by who is the property of ute and maid who may be abused? Have you not read Roderego of some such thing? Yes, sir, I have indeed. Call up my brother. Who do you had had her? Someone or is 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'll lead on. At every house I will call, I may come out at most. Get up and so, and raise some special officers of night. On, good Roderego, I will deserve your pains. Accident. Scene two, Venice, another street. Enter Othello, Iago, and attendants with torches. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, yet do I hold it very stuff of the conscience to do no contrived murder? I lack iniquity sometimes to do me service. Nine or ten times I had thought to have yurked him here, under the ribs. Tis better as it is. Nay, but he prayed it and spoke such scurvy and provoking terms against your honor, that with the little goodliness I have I did full hard for bear him. But I pray you, sir, are you fast married? Be assured of this, that the Magnifico is much beloved and half in his effect a voice potential as double as the dukes. He will divorce you or put upon you what restraint and 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 scenery shall outtongue his complaints. Tis yet to know which when I know that boasting is an honor I shall promulgate. I fetch my life and being from men of royal siege, and my demerits may speak unbonated to as proud a fortune as this that I have reached. For know, Yago, but that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhousied free condition put into circumscription and confine for the sea's worth. But look, what light's come yon'd. Those are the razored 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. Enter Cassio and certain officers with torches. 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 is the matter, think you? Something from Cyprus, as I may divine. It is a business of some heat. The galleys have sent a dozen sequent messengers this very night at one another's heels. And many of the consuls, raised and met, are at the duke's already. You have been hotly called for. When, being not at your lodging to be found, the senate hath set 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. Exit. Ancient, what makes he here? Faith, yet the night boarded a land, Kerak. It proved lawful prize he's made for ever. I do not understand. He's married. To who? Re-enter Othello. Married? Come, captain, will you go? Have with you. Here comes another troop to seek for you. It is Brabantio. General be advised, he comes to bad intent. Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, and officers with torches and weapons. Hula, stand there. Seniors, the lord. Down with him, Tiff. They draw on both sides. You, Rodorigo, come, sir, I am for you. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good senior, you shall more command with years than with your weapons. O the false, Tiff. Where has thou start, my daughter? Downed as thou art, thou hast enchanted her. For I will refer me to all things of sense, if seeing chains of magic were not bound. What are made so tender, fair, and happy, so visit the mirrors that shun the worldly cold darlings of our nation? Would ever have to incur a general mock, run from her goddess to the suri bosom of such a thing as thou? To fear, not to delight? Just meet a wall, if it is not gross in sense, that thou hast practised on her with foul charms. Abuse the delicate youth with drugs or minerals, that we cannot motion. I'll have it disputed on. It is provable and palpable to thinking. I therefore apprehend and do adage thee for an abuser of the world. A practiser of art's inhibited and out of warrant. Lay hold upon him. If he do resist, subdue him at his peril. Hold your hands, both you of my inclining and the rest. Worth my cue to fight, I should have known it without a prompter. Where will you that I go to answer this, your charge? To prison. Till fit I'm of law and course of directsation, 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, senor. The Duke's in council, and your noble self I am sure is sent for. Huh, the Duke in council? In this time of the night? Bring him away. One is not an idle cause. The Duke himself, or any of my brothers of the state, cannot but feel this wrong as it were their own. For if such actions may have basis free, born slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. Exceint. Scene 3, Venice, a council chamber. The Duke and Senators sitting at a table, officers attending. There is no composition in these news that gives them credit. Indeed, they are disproportioned. My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. And mine a hundred and forty. And mine two hundred. But though they jump not on a just account, as in these cases where the aim reports, it is oft with difference. Yet do they all confirm a Turkish fleet and bearing up to Cyprus? It is possible enough to judgment. I do not so secure me in the error. But the main article I do approve in fearful sense. Within. What ho, what ho, what ho? A messenger from the galleys. Enter a sailor. Now, what's the business? The Turkish preparation makes for roads. So as I did report here to the state by senior Angelo. How say you by this change? This cannot be. By no assay of reason. Tis a pageant to keep us in false gaze. When we consider the importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, and let ourselves again but understand that, as it more concerns the Turk than roads, so may he with more facile question bear it. For that it stands not in such warlike brace, but altogether lacks the abilities that roads is dressed in. If we make thought of this, we must not think the Turk is so unskillful to leave that latest, which concerns him first, neglecting an attempt of ease and gain to wake and wage a danger profitless. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for roads. Here is more news. Enter a messenger. The Ottomites, Reverend Lungratius, steering with due course towards the Isle of Routes, have there enjoanted them with an after-fleet. Aye, so I thought. Hoferty sail, and now they do restem their backward course, bearing with frank appearance. Their purpose is towards Cyprus. Señor Montaño, your trusty and most valiant servitor, with his free duty, recommends you thus, and prays you to believe him. Tis certain, then, for Cyprus. Marcos Lucicos is not he in town. He's now in foreheads. Right from us to him. Post-post haste dispatch. Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant moor. Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Rodrigo, and officers. Velliant Othello, we must straight employ you against the general enemy Ottoman. To Brabantio. I did not see you. Welcome, gentle señor. We lacked your counsel and your help tonight. So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me. Neither my place nor all I had of business had raised me from my bed. Nor doth the general care take hold on me. For my particular grief is of so floodgird and overbearing nature that it anglots and swallows other sorrows, and it is still itself. Why? What's the matter? My daughter. Oh, my daughter. Dead? Aye, to me, since abused, stolen from me, and corrupted by spells and medicines, bought up mount-banks. The nature so preposterously to air, being a deficient of blind or lame of sense, sense witchcraft could not. Whoever he be that, in this foul proceeding, hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself, and you of her, the bloody book of law you shall yourself read in the bitter letter, after your own sense. Yeah, though our proper son stood in your action. Humbly I thank you, Grace. Here's the man, this more, whom now it seems, your special man that, for the state affairs, had he de-brought. We are very sorry for it. Too a-thello. What, in your own part, can you say to this? Nothing, but this is so. Most potent grave and reverend seniors, my very noble and approved good masters, that I have tain away this old man's daughter, it is most true. True, I have married her. The very head and front of my offending hath this extent no more. Rude am I 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. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will, a round, unvarnished tale-deliver of my whole course of love, what drugs, what charms, what conjuration, and what mighty magic, for such proceeding I am charged with all, I won his daughter. The maiden never bold, of spirit so steel and quiet that her motion plus that herself, and see, in spite of nature, of yours, of country, credit everything to fall in love with what she feared to look on. It is judgment maimed and most imperfect that will converse perfection's so good air against all rules of nature, and must be driven to find the practices of cunning hell, why this should be. I therefore vouch again with some mixtures powerful over the blood, or with some dram conduit to this effect he wrought upon her. To vouch this is no proof, without more wider and more overt test, than these thin habits and poor likelihoods of modern seeming do prefer against him. But, Othello, speak! Did you, by indirect or forced courses, subdue and poison this young maid's affections, or came it by request, and such fair question as soul to soul affordeth? I do beseech you, send for the lady to the Sagittari, 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. Touch the Zemona, hither! Ancient conduct them, you best know the place. Excellent Iago and attendance. And till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood, so justly to your grave ears I'll 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 questioned me the story of my life from year to year the battles, sieges, the fortunes that I have passed. I ran it through even from my boyish days to the very moment that he bad me tell it, wherein I spake of most disastrous chances of moving accidents by flood and field of hair-breath escapes in the imminent deadly breach, of being taken by the insolent foe and soul to slavery, of my redemption vents and portents in my travel's history, who enters vast and desert's idle, rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven, it was my hint to speak. Such was the process. And of the cannibals that each other eat, the anthropophagi and men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders, this to here would Desdemona seriously incline, but still the house affairs would draw her thence, whichever as she could with haste dispatch come again and with a greedy ear devour up my discourse, which I observing took once a pliant hour and found good means to draw from her a prayer of earnest heart that I would all my pilgrimage dilate, whereof by parcels 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 size. She swore in faith, was strange, was passing strange, was pitiful, was wondrous pitiful. She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished that heaven had made her such a man. She thanked 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 passed 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 attendance. I think this tale would win my daughter too. Good Bravancio, take up this mangled matter at the best. Man, do their broken weapons rather use than their bare hands. I pray you, hear her speak, if she confess that she was half the war, destruction on my head, if my bad blame lie down on the man. Come, hater gentle mistress, do perceive in all this noble company where most you over obedience. My noble father, I do perceive her 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 hither to your daughter. But here's my husband, and so much duty as my mother showed to you, preferring you before her father, so much I challenge that I may profess due to the more, my lord. God be with you. I have done. Please hither grace, unto the state appears. I had rather to adopt a child than get it. Come, hither more, I here to 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. Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence, which, as a grease or step, may help these lovers into your favor. When remedies are passed, 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, patient her injury and mockery makes. The rob that smiles steals something from the thief. He robs himself that spends a bootless grief. So let the Turk of Cyprus as beguile. We'll lose it not so long as we can smile. He bears the sentence well that nothing bears. But the free compote, which from dance he hears. But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow, that to pay grief must of poor patients borrow, the sentences to sugar or to gall, being strong on both sides I could walk. 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 efforts of stay. The Turk, with the most mighty preparation, makes for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place 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 these more stubborn and boisterous expedition. The tyrant custom, most grave senators, crave the flinty and steel couch of war, my thrice-driven bit of down. I do agnise a natural and prompt alacrity I find in hardness, and do undertake these present wars against the automites. 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. Please, be to her fathers. I will not have it so. Nor I. Nor I. I would not dare recite 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 simple-ness. What would you, Desdemona? That I did love the more to live with him. My downright violence and storm of fortunes made trumpet to the world, my heart 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. Let her have your voices. Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not to please the pallet of my appetite, nor to comply with heat, the young effects 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. Know, when light-winged toys of feathered cupid seal with wanton dullness my speculative and offest instruments, that my desports corrupt and taint my business, let housewives make a skillet of my helm, and all in dine and base adversities make head against my estimation. Be it, as you shall privately determine, either for his stay or going, the affair cries haste, and speed must answer it. You must away tonight. With all my heart. At nine in 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. 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. Let it be so. Good night to everyone. To Brabantio. And noble senior, a virtue no delighted beauty lack. Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. I do brave more, used as da Mona well. Look to her more. If thou hast eyes to see, she has dissimped her father, and made thee. Exiant Duke, Senators, Officers, etc. 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. Exiant Othello and Desdemona. Iago! What sayest thou, noble heart? What will I do with thickest thou? Why, go to bed and sleep. I will incontinently drown myself. If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou silly gentleman? It is silliness to live, once a lib is torment, and then we have a prescription to die when our death is our physician. Oh, villainess! 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 and 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! Is it ourselves that we are thus or thus? Our bodies are gardens to which our wills are gardeners. So that, if we plant nettles or soul lettuce, set hyssop or weed up time, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manure with industry, why, the power and corageable 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 emotions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts. Whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect or scion. 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. 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 favour with an usurped beard. I say put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the more. Put money in thy purse. Nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an unanswerable sequestration. Put but money in thy purse. These mores are changeable in their wills. Fill thy purse with money. The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts shall beat him shortly as as serve as the color Quintita. She must change for youth. When she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice. She must have changed. She must. And 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 sanctumony in a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a super-subtle 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 clear out of the way. Seek thou rather to be hanged encompassing 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. Go, make money. I have told thee often that I retell thee again and again. I hate the more. My cause is hearted. Thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him. If thou canst cockhold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, be 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. Where shall we meet in the morning? At my lodging. I'll be with thee at my times. Go to farewell. Do you hear, Rotarygo? What say you? No more of drowning. Do you hear? I am changing. I'll go sell all my land. Exit. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse. For I, my own gained knowledge, should profane if I would time expend with such a snipe but for my sport and profit. I hate the more. And it is thought abroad that twixed my sheets he has 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. Casio's a proper man. Let me see now to get his place and to plume up my will in double-navery. How? How? Let's see. After some time to abuse Othello's ear that he is too familiar with his wife, he hath a person and a smooth dispose to be suspected, framed to make women false. The more is of a free and open nature that thinks men honest that but seem to be so and will as tenderly be led by the nose as asses are. I hath it is engendered. Hell and night must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. Exit. End of Act 1. Act 2 of Othello by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act 2. Scene 1. A seaport in Cyprus. A platform. Enter Montano and two gentlemen. What from the Cape can you discern at sea? Nothing at all. It is a high-rod flood. I cannot twix the heaven and the main, describe a sail. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land. A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements. If it hath ruffian so upon the sea, what ribs of oak when mountains melt on them can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this? A segregation of the Turkish fleet. For do but stand upon the foaming shore that shidden below seems to pelt the clouds. The wind shrieks surge with high and monstrous mane seems to cast water on the burning bear and quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole. I never did like the molestation view on the enchuffed flood. If that the Turkish fleet be not encheltered and embayed, they are drowned. It is impossible to bear it out. Enter a third gentleman. News, lads. Our wars are done. The desperate tempest hath so bang the Turks that their designment halts. A noble ship of Venice hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance on most part of their fleet. How is this true? The ship is here put in. Michael Cassio, lieutenant to the war-like Moor Othello, is come on shore. The Moor himself set sea and is in full commission here for Cyprus. I am glad on't. It is a worthy governor. But this same Cassio, though he speaks of comfort touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly and prays the Moor be safe, for they were parted with foul and violent tempest. Pray heavens he be, for I have served him and the man commands like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside ho, as well to see the vessel that's come in, as to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, even till we make the main and the aerial blue an indistinct regard. Come, let's do so. For every minute is expectancy of Moor alivance. Enter Cassio. Thanks you, the valiant of this war-like isle, that so approve the Moor. Oh, let the heavens give him defence on the elements, for I have lost him on a dangerous sea. Is he well shipped? His bark is stoutly timbered and is pilot of very expert and approved allowance. Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, stand in bold cure. Within, assail, assail, assail. Enter a fourth gentleman. What noise? The town is empty. On the brow of the sea stand ranks of people and they cry, assail. My hopes do shape him for the governor. Guns within. They do discharge their shot of courtesy, our friends at least. I pray you, sir, go forth and give us truth who tis that is arrived. I shall. Exit. But good lieutenant, is your general wived? Most fortunately. He hath achieved a maid that paragon's description and wild fame, one that excels the quirks and in the essential vesture of creation does tire the engineer. Re-enter second gentleman. How now, who is put in? This one, Yago, ancient to the general. He has had most favorable and happy speed, tempest themselves, high seas and howling winds, the guttered rocks and congregated sands, traitors in steep to clog the guiltless keel, as having a sense of beauty to omit their mortal natures, letting go safely by the divine Desdemona. What is she? She that I spake of, our great captain's captain, left in the conduct of the bold Yago, whose footing here anticipates our thoughts a senite speed. Great Jove, a fellow guard, and swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, that he may bless this bay with his tall ship, make loves quick pants in Desdemona's arms, give renewed fire to our extincted spirits and bring all Cyprus comfort. Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Yago, Rodrigo and attendance. O behold, the riches of the ship is come on shore. Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. Hail to thee, lady, and the grace of heaven, before, behind thee, and on every hand, in wheel thee round. I thank you, Baliant Casio. What tidings can you tell me of my lord? He is not yet arrived, nor know I ought, but that he's well, and will be shortly here. Oh, but I fear, how lost your company? The great contention of the sea and skies parted our fellowship. But, Hark, a sail. Within. A sail. A sail. Guns within. They give their greeting to the citadel. This likewise is a friend. See for the news. Exit, gentlemen. Good ancient, you are welcome. To Emilia. Welcome, mistress. Let it not gall your patience, good Yago, that I extend my manners, tis my breeding that gives me this bold show of courtesy. Kissing her. 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? I find it still when I have list asleep. Mary, before your old ladyship, I grant she puts her tongue a little in her heart and chides with thinking. You have little cause to say so. Oh, come on, come on. Your pictures out of doors, bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens, saints in your injuries, devils being offended, players in your house with free and houses in your beds. Oh, fire upon thee, slanderer. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk. You rise to play and go to bed till work. You shall not write my praise. No, let me not. What wouldst thou write of me if thou shouldst praise me? Oh, gentle lady, do not put me to it, for I am nothing if not critical. Come on, essay. There's one gone to the harbour. I, madam. I am not Mary, 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 bird-lime does from freeze. It plucks out brains and all. But my muse labours, and thus she is delivered. If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, the ones for use, the other useeth it. Well praised. How if she be black and witty? If she be black and there to 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 helped her to an air. These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh in the alehouse. What miserable praise has thou for her that's foul and foolish? There's none so foul and foolish thereon too. But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do? O heavy ignorance, thou praises the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the voucher of very malice itself. She that was ever fair and never proud had tongue at will and yet was never loud, never lacked gold and yet never went gay, fled from her wish and yet said, Now I may. She that being angered her revenge being nigh, bad her wrong stay and her displeasure fly. She that in wisdom never was so frail to change the cod's head for the salmon's tail. She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind see suitors following and not look behind. She was a white if ever such white were. To do what? To suckle fools and chronicle small beer. Almost lame and impotent conclusion. Do not learn of him, Amelia, though he be thy husband. How say you, Cascio? Is he not the most profane and liberal counselor? He speaks home, madam. You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar. Aside. He takes her by the palm. I well said, whisper. With as little a web as this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cascio. I smile upon her, too. I will give thee in thine own courtship. Ah, you say true. Tis so indeed. If such tricks as these strip you out of your left tenetry, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so often. Which, now again, you are most apt to play the seren. Very good. Well kissed and excellent courtesy. Tis so indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips. Would they were clister pipes for your sake? Trumpet within. The war! I know his trumpet. Tis truly so. Let's meet him and receive him. Lo, where he comes? Enter Othello and attendance. O my fair warrior. My dear Othello. It gives me wonder great as my content to see you here before me. O my soul's joy. If after every tempest comes such calms, may the winds blow till they have wakened death and let the laboring bark climb hills of seas, Olympus high and duck again as low as hell's from heaven. If it were now to die, it were 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 to that, sweet powers. 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. Kissing her. That ere our hearts shall make. Aside. Oh, you are well tuned now. But I'll sit down the pegs that make this music, as honest as I am. Come, let us to the castle. News, friends, our wars are done. The Turks are drowned. How does my old acquaintance of this isle? You shall be well desired in Cyprus. I have found great love amongst them. Oh, my sweet, I prattle out of fashion, and I dote in my own comforts. I prithee, good Yago, go to the bay and disembark my coffers. Bring thou the master to the citadel. He is a good one, and his worthiness doth challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona, once more well met at Cyprus. Exiant Othello, Desdemona, and attendance. Do thou meet me presently at the harbor? Come, hither. If thou beest valiant, as they say, baseman, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them. List me. The lieutenant tonight watches on the court of guard. First, I must tell thee this. Desdemona is directly in love with him. With him, like, is not possible. Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me with what violence she first loved the more, but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies. And will she love him still for prating? Let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed, and what delight shall she have to look on the devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be, again, to inflame it, and to give satiety of fresh appetite, loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners, and beauties, all which the more is defective in. Now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and implore the more. Very nature will instruct her in it, and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted, as it is most pregnant and unforced physician, who stands so eminently in the degree of this fortune, as Cassio does, a knave very voluble, no further conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming, for the better compass of his salt and most hidden loose affection. Why none? Why none? A slipper and subtle knave, a finder out of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself. A devilish knave, besides the knave is handsome, young and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after. A pestilent, complete knave, and the woman hath found him already. I cannot believe that in her she is full of most blessed condition. Blessed figsend, the wine she drinks is made of grapes. If she had been blessed, she would never have loved the more blessed pudding. Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? Didst thou not mark that? Yes, that I did, that was courtesy. Letchery by this hand, an index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together. Villainous thoughts, Roderigo, with these mutualities so marshaled away, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion, pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you tonight. For the command I'll land upon you. Cassio knows you not. I'll not be far from you. Do you find some occasion to anger, Cassio, either by speaking too loud or tainting his discipline or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favourably minister? Well... Sir, he is rash and very sudden in collar, and happily with his crunch and may strike at you. Provoke him that he may, for even out of that will I cause these of cypress to mutiny, whose qualification shall come into no true taste again, but by the displanthing of Cassio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires, by the means I shall then have, to prefer them, and the impediment most profitably removed without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity. I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell. Farewell. Adieu. Exit. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it. That she loves him, tis apt and of great credit. The more, how being that I endure him not, is of a constant, loving, noble nature, and I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona a most dear husband. Now, I do love her too, not out of absolute lust, though, per adventure I stand accountant for his greatest sin. But partly led to diet my revenge, for that I do suspect the lusty more hath leaped into my seat, and thought whereof, doth like a poisonous mineral, not my innards, and nothing can or shall content my soul till I am even with him wife for wife, or failing so, yet that I put the more at least into a jealousy so strong that judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, if this poor trash of Venice whom I trash for his quick hunting stand the putting on, I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, abuse him to the more in the rank garb, for I fear Cassio with my nightcap too. Make the more think me, love me, and reward me for making him egregiously an ass, and practicing upon his peace and quiet even to madness. Tis here, but yet confused. Navery's plain face is never seen till used. Exit. Scene two, a street. Enter a herald with a proclamation, people following. It is a fellow's pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere provision of its Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph, some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him. For besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his luxury, so much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have tolled eleven. Heaven blessed the Isle of Cyprus, and our noble general, a fellow. Exit. Scene three, a hall in the castle. Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and attendance. Good Michael, look you to the guard tonight. Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, not to out-sport discretion. Yago hath direction what to do, but not withstanding with my personal eye will I look to it. Yago is most honest. Michael, good night. Tomorrow, with your earliest, let me have speech with you. To Desdemona. Come, my dear love, the purchase made, the fruits are to ensue, the profits yet to come between me and you. Good night. Exit Othello, Desdemona, and attendance. Enter Yago. Welcome, Yago. We must to the watch. Not this hour, Lieutenant. It is not yet ten o'clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona, who let us not therefore blame. He hath not yet made wanton the night with her, and she is sport for Jove. She's a most exquisite lady. And all warrant her full of game. Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicate creature. What an eye she has. Me thinks it sounds a parley to provocation. An inviting eye, and yet me thinks right modest. And when she speaks, is it not an alarm to love? She is indeed perfection. Well, happy list to their sheets. Come, Lieutenant, I have a stoop of wine, and herewithout are a brace of cypress gallants that would vain have a measure to the health of Black Othello. Not to-night, Good Yago. I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. Oh, they are our friends, but one cup. I'll drink for you. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified, too. And behold what innovation it makes here. I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more. What, man, is it light of revels these gallants desire it? Where are they? Here at the door. I pray you call them in. I'll do it, but it dislikes me. Exit. If I can fasten but one cup upon him with that which he hath drunk to-night already, he'll be as full of quarrel and offence as my young mistress Dog. Now, my sick-fooled Roderigo, whom love hath turned almost the wrong side out, to Desdemona hath tonight caroused potations pothole deep, and he's to watch three lads of Cyprus, noble, swelling spirits that hold their honors in a wary distance. The very elements of this war-like isle have I tonight flustered with flowing cups, and they watch, too. Now, amongst this flock of drunkards, I might have put our Cassio in some action that may offend the isle. But here they come, if consequence do but approve my dream, my boat sails freely, both with wind and steam. Re-enter Cassio, with him Montano and gentlemen, followed by Servant with wine. For heaven, they have given me a rouse already. Good faith, a little one, not past a pint as I am a soldier. Some wine, ho! Sings. And let me the canik and clink, clink, and let me the canik and clink, a soldier's a man. Oh, life's but a span, when they let a soldier drink. Hey, some wine, boys! For God, an excellent song. I learned it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting. Your dain, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander. Hey, drink, ho! Or nothing to your English. Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking? Why, he drinks you with facility, your dain, dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrow your old man. He gives your Hollander a vomit, or the next pottle can be filled. To the health of our general. I am for it, Lieutenant, and I'll do you justice. Oh, sweet England. Sings. King Stephen was a worthy peer. His breeches cost him but a crown. He held them sixpents all too dear. With that he called the tailor-lon. He was a white of high renown, and thou art but of low degree. To his pride they'd pull the country down, and take thine old cloak about thee. Some wine, ho! Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. Oh, will you hear it again? No, for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God's above all, and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. It's true, good Lieutenant. For my known part. No offence to the general, nor any man of quality. I hope to be saved. And so do I too, Lieutenant. Aye, but by your leave, not before me. The lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's have no more of this. Let's do our affairs. Forgive us our sins. Gentlemen, let's look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk. This is my ancient. This is my right hand. And this is my left. I am not drunk now. I can stand well enough, and I speak well enough. Excellent well. Why, very well then. You must not think, then, that I am drunk. Exit. The platform masters, come. Let's set the watch. You see this fellow that is gone before. He's a soldier fit to stand by Caesar and give direction. And do but see his vice. Tis to his virtue adjust equinox, the one as long as the other. Tis pity of him. I fear the trust Othello puts in him on some odd time of his infirmity will shake this island. But is he often thus? Tis ever more the prologue to his sleep. He'll watch the horror log a double set if drink, rock, not his cradle. It were well the general were put in mind of it. Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature prizes the virtue that appears in Casio and looks not on his evils. Is not this true? Enter Roderigo. Aside to him. How now, Roderigo? I pray you, after the lieutenant. Go. Exit, Roderigo. And is great pity that the noble moor should hazard such a place as his own second with one of an ingraft infirmity. It were an honest action to say so to the moor. Not I for this fair island. I do love Casio well and would do much to cure him of this evil. But Hark, what noise? Cry within, help, help. Re-enter Casio driving in, Roderigo. You rogue, you rascal. What's the matter, Lieutenant? A knave teach me my duty. I'll beat the knave into a twiggin' bottle. Beat me. Dost thou pray, rogue? Striking, Roderigo. Nay, good lieutenant, I pray you, sir. Hold your hand. Let me go, sir. I'll knock you over the mazzard. Come, come, you're drunk. Drunk? They fight. Aside to Roderigo. Away, I say. Go out and cry a mutiny. Exit, Roderigo. Nay, good lieutenant. Alas, gentlemen, help, ho. Lieutenant, sir, Montano, sir. Help, masters. Here is a goodly watch indeed. Bell rings. Who's that that rings the bell? Diablo, ho. The town will rise. God's will, Lieutenant, hold. You will be shamed forever. Re-enter Othello and attendance. What is the matter here? Zams, I bleed still. I'm hurt to the death. Hold for your lives. Hold, ho. Lieutenant, sir, Montano, gentlemen, have you forgot all sense of place and duty? Hold, the general speaks to you. Hold, hold for shame. Why, how now, ho? From whence arises this? Are we turned turks into our cells? Do that which heaven hath forbid the automites? For Christian shame put by this barbarous brawl, he that stirs next to car for his own rage holds his soul light, he dies upon his motion. Silence, that dreadful bell, it frights the isle from her propriety. What is the matter, masters? Honest Yago that looks dead with grieving, speak, who began this? On thy love I charge thee. I do not know. Friends, all but now, even now, in quarter and in terms like bride and groom, divesting them for bed. And then, but now, as if some planet had unwitted men, swords out and tilting what at others breast in opposition bloody? I cannot speak any beginning to this, peevish odds, and would in action glorious I had lost those legs that brought me to a part of it. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? I pray you pardon me. I cannot speak. Worthy Montano, you were won't be civil. The gravity and stillness of your youth the world hath noted, and your name is great in mouths of wisest censure. What's 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, Yago, can inform you, while I spare speech which something now offends me, of all that I do know, nor know I ought by me that said or done amiss this night, unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, and to defend ourselves it be a sin when violence assails us. Now, by heaven, my blood begins my safer guides to rule, and passion, having my best judgment collied, assays to lead the way. 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 approved in this offence, though he had twinned with me both at a berth, 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! Yago, who began it? If partially a find or lead in office, thou dost deliver more or less than truth, thou art no soldier. Touch me not so near. I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth than it should do offence to Michael Cassio. Yet I persuade myself to speak the truth, shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, General. Montano and myself, being in speech, there comes a fellow crying out for help, and Cassio, following him with determined sword, to execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman steps into Cassio and treats his paws. Myself, the crying fellow, did pursue. Lest by his clamor, as it so fell out, the town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot, outran my purpose, and I returned the rather for that I heard the clink and fall of swords and Cassio high in oath, which till tonight I'd never might say before. When I came back, for this was brief, I'd found them close together at blow and thrust, even as again they were when you yourself did part them. More of this matter cannot I report. But men are men, and best sometimes forget. Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, as men in rage strike those that wish them best, yet surely Cassio, I believe, received from him that fled some strange indignity which patience would not pass. I know, Yago, thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee, but never more be officer of mine. Re-enter Desdemona, attended. Look, if my gentle love be not raised up, I'll make thee an example. What's the matter? All's well now, sweetening, come away to bed. To Montano, who is let off. Sir, for your hurts myself will be your surgeon. Lead him off. Yago, look with care about the town and silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. Come, Desdemona, tis the soldier's life to have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. Eggsy and all but Yago and Cassio. What, are you hurt, Lieutenant? I passed all surgery. Mary, heaven forbid! Reputation, reputation, reputation. Oh, I have lost my reputation. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Yago, my reputation. As I am an honest man, I thought you'd received some bodily wound. There's more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition. Off-got without merit and lost without deserving. You've lost no reputation at all unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man, there are ways to recover the general again? You are but now cast in his mood a punishment more in policy than in malice. Even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to a fright and imperious lion. Suit him again, and he is yours. I would rather soothe to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk, and speak parrot, and squabble, swagger, swear, and discourse fustion with one's own shadow. O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you? I know not. Is it possible? I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly. A quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains. That we should, with joy, pleasant, revel, and applause transform ourselves into beasts. Why, but you are now well enough. How came you thus recovered? It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath. One unperfectness shows me another to make me frankly despise myself. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place and the condition of this country stands, I could hardly wish it had not befallen, but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. I will ask him for my place again. He shall tell me I am a drunkard. Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, buy and buy a fool, and presently a beast. O strange, every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil. Come, come, good wine is a good, familiar creature if it be well used. Exclaim no more against it. And, good Lieutenant, I think you think I love you. I have well approved it, sir. I drunk. You or any man living may be drunk at a time, man. I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife is now the general. I may say so in this respect, for he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation mark and denotement of her parts and graces. Confess yourself freely to her. Import you in her help to put you in your place again. She's of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition that she holds it of vice in her goodness not to do more than she's requested. The broken joy between you and her husband entreat her to splinter. And my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before. You advise me well. I protest in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. I think it freely. And betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me. I am 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. Exit. And what's he, then, that says I play the villain? When this advice is free I give and honest. Proble to thinking and indeed the course to win the more again. For it is most easy the inclining Desdemona to subdue in any honest suit. She, framed as fruitful as the free elements. And then for her to win the more, were to renounce his baptism all seals and symbols of redeemed sin. Her soul is so infettered to her love that she may make, not make what she list, even as her appetite shall play the god with his weak function. How am I, then, a villain to counsel Casio in this parallel course directly to his good, Divinity of Hell? When devils with the blackest sins put on, they do suggest at first with heavenly shows as I do now. For whilst this honest fool plies Desdemona to repair his fortune, and she for him pleads strongly to the more, I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, that she repeals him for her body's lust, and by how much he strives to do him good, so shall undo her credit with the more. So will I turn her virtue into pitch, and out of her own goodness make the net that shall enmesh them all. Enter, Rodrigo. How now, Rodrigo? 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 to-night exceedingly well cudgled, and I think the issue will be I have so much experience for my pains, and so, with no money at all, and a little more for Witt will return again to Venice. How poor are they that have no patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou knowest we work by Witt and not by witchcraft? And Witt depends on dilatory time. Does not go well. By that small hurt hath cashiered Cassio. Though other things grow fair against the sun, yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe. Content thyself a while by the mast his mourning. Pleasure and action make the hour seem short. Retire thee. Go where thou art billeted. Away I say, thou shalt know more hereafter. Nay, get thee gone! Exit, Rodrigo. Two things are to be done. My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress. I'll set her on. Myself the while to draw the moor apart and bring him jump when he may Cassio find soliciting his wife. Aye, that's the way. Dull not device by coldness and delay. Exit. End of Act Two.