Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Othello (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Donald Bailey
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-466-0

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Donald Bailey
    Peer Reviewed

    Othello (Folio 1, 1623)

    the Moore of Venice ̇ 323
    I giue thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee,
    If I do vow a friendship, Ile performe it
    To the last Article. My Lord shall neuer rest,
    1615Ile watch him tame, and talke him out of patience;
    His Bed shall seeme a Schoole, his Boord a Shrift,
    Ile intermingle euery thing he do's
    With Cassio's suite: Therefore be merry Cassio,
    For thy Solicitor shall rather dye,
    1620Then giue thy cause away.

    Enter Othello, and Iago.
    AEmil. Madam, heere comes my Lord.
    Cassio. Madam, Ile take my leaue.
    Des. Why stay, and heare me speake.
    1625Cassio. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,
    Vnfit for mine owne purposes.
    Des. Well, do your discretion. Exit Cassio.
    Iago. Hah? I like not that.
    Othel. What dost thou say?
    1630Iago. Nothing my Lord; or if---I know not what.
    Othel. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?
    Iago. Cassio my Lord? No sure, I cannot thinke it
    That he would steale away so guilty-like,
    Seeing your comming.
    1635Oth. I do beleeue 'twas he.
    Des. How now my Lord?
    I haue bin talking with a Suitor heere,
    A man that languishes in your displeasure.
    Oth. Who is't you meane?
    1640Des. Why your Lieutenant Cassio: Good my Lord,
    If I haue any grace, or power to moue you,
    His present reconciliation take.
    For if he be not one, that truly loues' you,
    That erres in Ignorance, and not in Cunning,
    1645I haue no iudgement in an honest face.
    I prythee call him backe.
    Oth. Went he hence now?
    Des. I sooth; so humbled,
    That he hath left part of his greefe with mee
    1650To suffer with him. Good Loue, call him backe.
    Othel. Not now (sweet Desdemon) some other time.
    Des. But shall't be shortly?
    Oth. The sooner (Sweet) for you.
    Des. Shall't be to night, at Supper?
    1655Oth. No, not to night.
    Des. To morrow Dinner then?
    Oth. I shall not dine at home:
    I meete the Captaines at the Cittadell.
    Des. Why then to morrow night, on Tuesday morne,
    1660On Tuesday noone, or night; on Wensday Morne.
    I prythee name the time, but let it not
    Exceed three dayes. Infaith hee's penitent:
    And yet his Trespasse, in our common reason
    (Saue that they say the warres must make example)
    1665Out of her best, is not almost a fault
    T'encurre a priuate checke. When shall he come?
    Tell me Othello. I wonder in my Soule
    What you would aske me, that I should deny,
    Or stand so mam'ring on? What? Michael Cassio,
    1670That came a woing wirh you? and so many a time
    (When I haue spoke of you dispraisingly)
    Hath tane your part, to haue so much to do
    To bring him in? Trust me, I could do much.
    Oth. Prythee no more: Let him come when he will:
    1675I will deny thee nothing.
    Des. Why, this is not a Boone:

    'Tis as I should entreate you weare your Gloues,
    Or feede on nourishing dishes, or keepe you warme,
    Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit
    1680To your owne person. Nay, when I haue a suite
    Wherein I meane to touch your Loue indeed,
    It shall be full of poize, and difficult waight,
    And fearefull to be granted.
    Oth. I will deny thee nothing.
    1685Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
    To leaue me but a little to my selfe.
    Des. Shall I deny you? No: farewell my Lord.
    Oth. Farewell my Desdemona, Ile come to thee strait.
    Des. AEmilia come; be as your Fancies teach you:
    1690What ere you be, I am obedient. Exit.
    Oth. Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my Soule
    But I do loue thee: and when I loue thee not,
    Chaos is come againe.
    Iago. My Noble Lord.
    1695Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?
    Iago. Did Michael Cassio
    When he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue?
    Oth. He did, from first to last:
    Why dost thou aske?
    1700Iago. But for a satisfaction of my Thought,
    No further harme.
    Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?
    Iago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir.
    Oth. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft.
    1705Iago. Indeed?
    Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that?
    Is he not honest?
    Iago. Honest, my Lord?
    Oth. Honest? I, Honest.
    1710Iago. My Lord, for ought I know.
    Oth. What do'st thou thinke?
    Iago. Thinke, my Lord?
    Oth. Thinke, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchos't me;
    As if there were some Monster in thy thought
    1715Too hideous to be shewne. Thou dost mean somthing:
    I heard thee say euen now, thou lik'st not that,
    When Cassio left my wife. What didd'st not like?
    And when I told thee, he was of my Counsaile,
    Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeede?
    1720And didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together,
    As if thou then hadd'st shut vp in thy Braine
    Some horrible Conceite. If thou do'st loue me,
    Shew me thy thought.
    Iago. My Lord, you know I loue you.
    1725Oth. I thinke thou do'st:
    And for I know thou'rt full of Loue, and Honestie,
    And weigh'st thy words before thou giu'st them breath,
    Therefore these stops of thine, fright me the more:
    For such things in a false disloyall Knaue
    1730Are trickes of Custome: but in a man that's iust,
    They're close dilations, working from the heart,
    That Passion cannot rule.
    Iago. For Michael Cassio,
    I dare be sworne, I thinke that he is honest.
    1735Oth. I thinke so too.
    Iago. Men should be what they seeme,
    Or those that be not, would they might seeme none.
    Oth. Certaine, men should be what they seeme.
    Iago. Why then I thinke Cassio's an honest man.
    1740Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this?
    I prythee speake to me, as to thy thinkings,
    As thou dost ruminate, and giue thy worst of thoughts