OTHELLO,

THE MOOR OF VENICE.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

DUKE OF Venice.

BRABANTIO, a Senator.

Two other Senators.

GRATIANO, Brother to Brabantio.
LODOVICO, Kinsman to Brabantio.
OTHELLO, the Moor:

CASSIO, his Lieutenant;

IAGO, his Ancient.

RODERIGO, a Venetian Gentleman.

MONTANO, Othello's Predecessor in the Govern ment of Cyprus.

Clown, Servant to Othello.

Herald.

DESDEMONA, Daughter to Brabantio, and Wife to Othello.

EMILIA, Wife to lago.

BIANCA, a Courtesan, Mistress to Cassio.

Officers, Gentlemen, Messengers, Musicians, Sailors, Attendants, &c.

SCENE-for the first Act, in Venice; during the rest of the Play, at a Seaport in Cyprus.

Othello, the Moor of Venice.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Venice. A Street.

Enter RODERIGO and IAGO.

Rod. TUSH, never tell me, I take it much unkindly,

That thou, lago,-who hast had my purse, As if the strings were thine,-should'st know of this.

Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me :If ever I did dream of such a matter,

Abhor me.

Rod. Thou told'st me, thou did'st 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,
Oft 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 theorick,

Wherein the toged consuls can propose

As masterly as he: mere prattle, without prac

tice,

VOL. VII.

X

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 (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's
ancient.

Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.

Iago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of service;

Preferment goes by letter, and affection,
Not by the 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.

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 lago:
In following him, I follow but myself:
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end: