PERSONS REPRESENTED.

The DUKE OF VENICE.

BRABANTIO, a Senator.

Other Senators.

GRATIANO, brother to Brabantio.

LUDOVICO, 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.

DESDEMONA, daughter to Brabantio, and wife to Othello.

EMILIA, wife to Iago.

BIANCA, mistress to Cassio.

Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen,
Musicians, and Attendants.

SCENE, VENICE; and a Seaport in CYPRUS.

OTHELLO,

THE MOOR OF VENICE.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Venice. A Street.

Enter RODERIGO and IAGO.

Roderigo.

USH! 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. But you'll not hear me. If ever I did dream

Of such a matter, abhor me.

Rod. 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 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?

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 togèd 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 be-lee'd and
calm'd

By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,

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

Rod. 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.

Rod.

I would not follow him then.

lago. 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 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,

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 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.
Rod. 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 chances of vexation on't,
As it may lose some colour.

Rod. 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.

Rod. What, ho! Brabantio! signior Brabantio, ho!

Iago. Awake; what, ho! Brabantio! thieves! thieves!

Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags!

Thieves thieves !

BRABANTIO appears above, at a window.

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons?

What is the matter there?

Rod. Signior, is all your family within?
Iago. Are your doors lock'd?

Bra.

Why? wherefore ask you this? Iago. Sir, you are 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.

Bra.

What, have you lost your wits? Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my

voice?

Bra. Not I; what are you?

Rod. My name is Roderigo.