The tragœdy of Othello, the Moore of Venice As it hath beene diuerse times acted at the Globe, and at the Black-Friers, by his Maiesties Seruants. Written by VVilliam Shakespeare.

The Tragedy of Othello the Moore of Venice. (Book 1)

Enter Iago and Roderigo.

Roderigo.

TVsh, neuer tell me, I take it much vnkindly That you Iago, who has had my purse, As if the strings were thine, should'st know of this.

Iag.

S'blood, but you will not heare me, If euer I did dreame of such a matter, abhorre me.

Rod.

Thou toldst me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.

Iag.

Despise me if I doe not: three great ones of the Citty In personall suite to make me his Leiutenant, Oft capt to him, and by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place. But he, as louing his owne pride and purposes, Euades them, with a bumbast circumstance, Horribly stuft with Epithites of warre: And in conclusion, Non-suits my mediators: for certes, sayes he, I haue already chosen my officer, and what was he? Forsooth, a great Arithmetition, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost dambd in a faire wife, That neuer set a squadren in the field, Nor the deuision of a Battell knowes,

More then a Spinster, vnlesse the bookish Theorique, Wherein the ••oged Consuls can propose As masterly as he: meere pra••tle without practise, Is all his souldier-shippe: but he sir had the election, And I, of whom his eyes had seene the proofe, At Rhodes, at Cipres, and on other grounds, Christian and Heathen, must be led, and calm'd, By Debitor and Creditor, this Counter-caster: He in good time, must his Leiutenant be, And I, God bles••e the marke, his Worships Ancient.

Rod.

By heauen I rather would haue bin his hangman.

Ia.

But there's no remedy, Tis the curse of seruice, Preferment goes by letter and affection, Not by the olde gradation, where each second Stood heire to the first: Now sir be iudge your self••, Whether I, in any iust tearme am assign'd to loue the Moore.

Rod.

I would not follow him then.

la.

O sir, content you, I follow him to serue my turne vpon him, We cannot be all masters, nor all masters Cannot be truely followed, you shall marke. Many a dutious and knee-crooking knaue, That doting on his owne obsequious bondage, Weares out his time much like his masters Asse, For noughe but prouender, and when hee's old cashierd, Whip mee such honest knaues: Others there are, who trimd in formes, And vissages of duty, keepe yet their hearts, Attending on themselues, and throwing But shewes of seruice on their Lords▪ Doe well thriue by 'em, And when they haue lin'd their coates, Doe themselues homage, Those fellowes haue some soule,

And such a one doe I professe my selfe,—for sir, It is as sure as you are Roderig••, Were I the Moore, I would not be Iage: In following him, I follow but my selfe. Heauen is my iudge, not I, For loue and duty, but seeming so, For my peculiar end. For when my outward action does demonstrate The natiue act, and figure of my heart, In complement externe▪ tis not long after, But I will weare my heart vpon my sleeue, For Doues to pecke at, I am not what I am.

Rod.

What a full fortune does the thicklips owe, If he can carry'et thus?

Ia.

Call vp her father. Rowse him, make after him, poyson his delight, Proclaime him in the streete, incense her Kinsmen, And tho he in a fe••tile climate dwell, Plague him with ••lyes: tho that his ioy be ioy. Yet throw such 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of vexation out, As it may loose 〈◊〉〈◊〉 colour.

Rod

Here is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••athers house, Ile call aloud.

Ia.

Doe with ••ike timerous accent, and dire yell, As when by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous Citties.

Rod.

What ho, Brabantio, Seignior Braba••tio, ho,

Ia.

Awake, what ho, Braba••ti••, Theeues, theeues, theeues: Looke to your house, you Daughter, and your bags, Theeues, theeues.

Brabantio at a window.

Brab.

What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there?

Rod.

Seignior, is all your family within?

Ia.

Are all doore lockts?

Brab.

Why, wherefore aske you this?

Iag▪

Zounds sir you are robd, for shame put on your gowne, Your heart is burst, you haue lost ••alfe your soule; Euen now, very now, an old blacke Ram Is tupping your white Ewe; arise, arise, Awake the s••orting Citizens with the Bell, Or else the Diuell will make a Grandsire of you, arise I say.

Brab.

What, haue you lost your wits?

Rod.

Most reuerend Seignior, doe you know my voyce?

Bra.

Not I, what are you?

Rod.

My name is Roderig••.

Bra.

The worse welcome, I haue charg'd thee, not to haunt about my dores, In honest plainenesse, thou hast heard me say My d••ughter is not for thee, and now in madnes, Being full of supper, and distempering draughts, Vpon maliciou•• brauery, dost thou come To start my quiet?

Rod.

Sir, sir, sir.

Bra.

But thou must needes be sure My spirit and my place haue in them powe•••• To make this bitter to thee.

Rod.

Patience good sir.

Bra.

What, tell'st thou me of robbing? this 〈…〉〈…〉, My house is not a graunge.

Rod.

Most graue Brabanti••, In simple and pure soule I come to you.

Iag.

Zouns Sir, you are one of those, that will not serue God, if the Deuill bid you. Because we come to doe you seruice, you thinke we are Ruffians, youle haue your daughter couered with a Barbary horse; youle haue your Nephewes ney to you; youle haue Coursers for Cousens, and Iennits for Iermans.

Bra.

What prophane wretch art thou?

Iag.

I am one sir, that come to tell you, your daughter, and the Moore, are now making the Beast with two backs.

Bra.

Thou art a villaine.

Iag.

You are a Senator.

Bra.

This thou sha•••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉, I know thee 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪

Rod.

Sir, I will answer any thing▪ But I bes••ech you, If she b•• in her 〈…〉〈…〉 Let loose on me the Iustice of the state, For this delusion.

Bra.

Strike on the tinder, Ho: Giue me a taper, call vp all••y people: This accident is not vnlike my dreame, Beleefe of it oppresses me already: Light I say, light.

Iag.

Farewell, for I must leaue you, It seemes not meete, not whole some to my pate, To be produc'd, as if I stay I shall Against the Moore, for I doe know the state, How euer this may gaule him with some checke, Cannot with safety cast him, for ••ee's imbark'd, With such loud reason, to the Cip••es warres, Which euen now stands i•• act, that for their soules, Another of his fathome, they haue not To leade their businesse, in which regard, Tho I doe hate him, as I doe hells paines, Yet for necessity of present life, I must shew out a flag, and signe of loue, Which is indeed but signe, that you shall surely Finde him: lead to the Sagittar, the raised sea••ch, And there will I be with him. So farewell.

Ex••••.

Enter Barbantio in his night 〈…〉〈…〉.

Bra.

It is too t••ue an euill, go••e she is, And what's to come, of my despised time, Is nought but bitternesse now 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Where didst thou see her; O vnhappy girle, With the Moore sai••t thou? who would be a father? How didst thou know ••twas she? O thou deceiuest me Past thought: what said ••he to you? get more ••apers,

Raise all my kindred, are they married thinke you?

Rod.

Truely I thinke they are.

Bra.

O heauen, how got she out? O treason of the blood, Fathers from hence, trust not your Daughters mindes, By what you see them act, is there not charmes, By which the property of youth and manhood May be abus'••? haue you not read R••der••g••, Of some such thing.

Rod.

I haue sir.

Bra.

Call vp my brother: O that you had had her, Some one way, some another; doe you know Where we may apprehend her, and the Moore?

Rod.

I thinke I can discouer him, if you please To get good guard, and goe along with me.

Bra.

Pray leade me on, at euery house Ile call, I may command at most •• g••t weapons ho, And raise some speciall Officers of night: On good Roderigo, Ile deserue your paynes.

Exe••nt.

Enter Othello, Iago, and attendants with Torches.

Ia.

Tho in the trade of warre, I haue slaine men, Yet doe I hold it very stuft of Conscience. To doe no contriu'd murr••er; I lacke iniquity Sometimes to doe me seruice▪ nine or▪ ten times, I had thought to haue ierk'd him here, Vnder the ribbes.

Oth.

Tis better as it is.

Iag.

Nay, but he 〈◊〉〈◊〉. And spoke such scuruy, and prouo••ing tearmes Against your Honor, that with the little godliness•• I haue, I did full hard forbeare him: but I pray si••, Are you fast married? For be sure of this, That the Magnifico is much beloued, And hath in his effect, a voyce potentiall, As double as the Dukes, he will diuorce you, Or put vpon you what ••estraint, and gre••uance, That law with all his might 〈…〉〈…〉

Weele giue him cable.

Oth.

Let him doe his spite, My seruices which I haue done the Seig••torie, Shall out tongue his complaints, tis yet to know, That boasting is an honour, I shall provulgate, I fetch my life and being, From men of royall height, and my demerrits, May speake vnbonnited to as proud a fortune As this that I haue reach'd; for know Iago; But that I loue the gentle Desdemonae, I would not, my vnhoused free condition, Put into circum••cription and confine For the seas worth,

Enter Cassio with lights▪ Officers, and torches.

But looke what lights come yonder.

la.

These are the raised Father and his friends, You were best goe in:

Oth.

Not I, I must be found, My parts, my Title, and my perfect soule, Shall manifest me rightly: it is they.

la.

By Ian••s I thinke no.

Oth.

The seruants of the Duke, and my Leiutenant, The goodnesse of the night vpon your friends, What is the newes.

Cas.

The Duke does greete you Generall, And he requires your hast, post hast appearance, Euen on the instant.

Oth.

What's the matter thinke you:

Cas.

Something from Cipres, as I may diuine, It is a businesse of some heate, the Galleyes Haue sent a dozen frequent messengers This very night, at one anothets heeles: And many of the Con••uls rais'd, and met, Are at the Dukes already; you haue bin hotly cald for, When being not at your lodging to be found, The Senate sent aboue three seuerall quests To s••arch you out.

Otht▪

Tis well I am found by you,

Ile spend a word here in the house, and goe with you.

Cas.

Auncient, what makes he here?

Ia.

Faith he to night, hath boorded a land Carrick; If it proue lawfull prize, hee's made for euer.

Cas.

I doe not vnderstand.

Ia.

Hee's married,

Cas.

To who?

Enters Brabantio, Roderigo, and others with lights and weapons.

Ia.

Marry to.—Come Captaine, will you goe?

Oth.

Ha, with who?

Cas.

Here comes another troupe to seeke for you.

Ia.

It is Brabantio, Generall be aduisde, He comes to bad intent.

Oth.

Holla, stand there.

Rod.

Seignior, it is the Moore.

Cra.

Downe with him theife.

Ia.

You Roderigo, Come sir, I am for you.

Oth.

Keepe vp your bright swords, for the dew will rust em, Good Seignior you shall more command with yeares Then with your weapons.

Bra.

O thou foule theefe, where hast thou ••towed my daughter? Dambd as thou art, thou haft inchanted her, For ile referre me to all thing of sense, Whether a maide so tender, faire, and happy, So opposite to marriage, that she shund The wealthy cu••••ed darlings of our Nation, Would euer haue (to incurre a general mocke) Runne from her gardage to the sooty bosome Of such a thing as thou? to feare, not to delight, Such an abuser of the world, a practiser Of Arts inhibited, and out of warrant? Lay hold vpon him, if he doe resist, Subdue him at his perill.

Oth.

Hold your hands: Both you of my inclining and the rest,

Were it my Qu. to fight, I should haue knowne it, Without a prompter, where will you that I goe, And answer this your charge?

Bra.

To prison till fit time Of Law, and course of direct Session, Call thee to answer▪

Oth.

What if I doe obey, How may the Duke be therewith satisfied, Whose Messengers are heere about my side, Vpon some present businesse of the State, To beare me to him.

Officer.

Tis true most worthy Seignior, The Duke's in Councell, and your noble selfe, I am sure is sent for.

Bra.

How? the Duke in Councell? In this time of the night? bring him away, Mine's not an idle cause, the Duke himselfe, Or any of my Brothers of the State, Cannot but feele this wrong, as twere their ow••e. For if such actions, may haue passage free, Bondslaues, and Pagans, shal our Statesmen be.

Exeunt.

Enter Duke and Senators, set at a Table with lights and Attendants.

Duke.

There is no Composition in these newes, That giues them credit.

1 Sena.

Indeede they are disproportioned, My letters say, a hundred and seuen Gallies.

Du.

And mine a hundred and forty.

2 Sena.

And mine two hundred: But though they iumpe not on a iust account, As in these cases, where they aym'd reports, Tis oft with difference, yet doe they all confirme A Turkish fleete, and bearing vp to Ci••resse.

Du.

Nay, it is possible enough to iudgement: I doe not so secure me to the error, But the mayne Articles I doe approue

In fearefull sense.

Enter a Messenger.

One within.

What ho, what ho, what ho?

Sailor.

A messenger from the Galley.

Du.

Now, the businesse?

Sailor.

The Turkish preparation makes for Rh••des, So was I bid report here, to the state.

Du.

How say you by this change?

1 Sena.

This cannot be by no assay of reason— Tis a Pageant, To keepe vs in false gaze: when we consider The importancy of Cypresse to the Turke: And let our selues a gaine, but vnderstand, That as it more concernes the Turke the•• Rhodes, So may he with more facile question beare it.

D••.

And in all confidence, hee's not for Rhodes.

Officer.

Here is more newes.

Enter a 2. Messenger.

Mes.

The Ottamites, reuerend and gracious, Steering with due course, toward the Isle of Rhodes, Haue there inioynted with an after fleete Of 30. ••••ile, and now they doe resterine Their backward course, bearing with franke appearance. Their purposes towards Cypresse: Seignior Montano, Your trusty and most valiant seruitor; With h•••• free du••y recommends you thus, And p••ayes you to b••leeue him.

Du.

Tis certaine then for Cypresse, Ma••cus Lucci••••os is not here in Town••.

1 Sena.

Hee's 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Florence.

Du.

Write 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vs, wish him post, post hast dispatch; 〈…〉〈…〉 Othello, Roderigo, Iago, Cassio, 〈…〉〈…〉 and Off••cers. 〈…〉〈…〉 Brabantio ••nd the valiant Moore. 〈…〉〈…〉 straite imploy you, 〈…〉〈…〉 Ottaman; 〈…〉〈…〉 Seig••ior, 〈…〉〈…〉 your helpe to night,

Bra.

So did I yours, good your Grace pardon me, Neither my place, nor ought I heard of businesse Hath rais'd me from my bed, nor doth the generall care Take any hold of me, for my particular griefes, Is of so floodgate and orebearing nature, Tha•• it engluts and swallowes other sorrowes, And it is still it selfe.

Du.

Why, what's the matter?

Bra.

My daughter, O my daughter.

All.

Dead?

Bra.

I to me: She is abus'd, stolne from me and corrupted, By spels and medicines, bought of mountebancks, For nature so preposterously to erre, Saunce witchcraft could not.

Du.

Who ere he be, that in this foule proceeding Hath thus beguild your daughter of her selfe, And you of her, the bloody booke of Law, You shall your selfe, read in the bitter letter, After its owne sense, tho our proper sonne Stood in your action.

Bra.

Humbly I thanke your Grace; Here is the man, this Moore, whom now it seemes Your speciall mandate, for the State affaires Hath hither brought.

All.

We are very sorry for't.

Du.

What in your owne part can you say to this?

Bra.

Nothing, but this is so.

Oth.

Most potent, graue, and reuerend Seigniors, My very noble and approoued good maisters: That I haue ta••e away this old mans daughter, It is most true: true, I haue married her, The very head and front of my offending, Hath this extent no more. Rude am I in my spe••ch, And little blest with the set phrase of peace, For since these armes of mine had seuen yeares pith, Till now some nine Moones wasted, they haue vs'd

Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speake, More then pertaines to feate of broyle, and battaile, And therefore little shall I grace my cause, In speaking for my selfe; yet by your gracious patience, I will a round vnuarnish'd tale deliver, Of my whole course of loue, 〈…〉〈…〉 what charmes, What coniuration, and what mighty Magicke, (For such proceedings am I charg'd 〈…〉〈…〉) I wonne his daughter.

Bra.

A maiden neuer bold of spirit, So still and quiet, that her motion Blusht at her selfe: and she in spite of nature, Of yeares, of Countrey, credit, euery thing, To fall in loue with what she fear'd to looke on? It is a iudgement maimd, and most imperfect, That will confesse perfection, so would erre Against all rules of Nature, and must be driuen, To finde out practises of cunning hell, Why this should be, I therefore vouch againe, That with some mixtures powerfull ore the blood, Or with some dram coniur'd to this effect, He wrought vpon her.

Du.

To youth this is no proofe, Without more certaine and more ouert test, These are thin habits, and poore likelihoods, Of moderne seemings, you preferre against him.

1 Sena.

But Othello speake, Did you by indirect and forced courses, Subdue and poison this young maides affections? Or came it by request, and such faire question, As soule to soule affoordeth?

Oth.

I doe beseech you, Send for the Lady to the Sagittar, And let her speake of me before her father; If you doe finde me foule in her report, Not onely take away, but let your sentence

Euen fall vpon my life.

Du.

Fetch Desdemona hither.

Exit two or three.

Oth.

Ancient conduct them, you best know the place; And till she come, as faithfull as to heauen, So iustly to your graue eares I'le present, How I did thriue in this faire Ladyes loue, And she in mine.

Du.

Say it Othello.

Oth.

Her Father loued me, oft inuited me, Still questioned me the story of my life, From yeare to yeare; the battailes, seiges, fortunes That I haue past: I ran it through, euen from my boyish dayes, Toth' very moment that he bade me tell it. Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moouing accident of flood and field; Of heire-breadth scapes ith imminent deadly breach; Of being taken by the insolent foe: And sold to slauery, and my redemption thence, And with it all my trauells Historie; Wherein of Antrees vast, and Deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks and hils, whose heads touch heauen, It was my hent to speake, such was the processe: And of the Cannibals, that each other eate; The Anthropophagie, and men whose heads Doe grow beneath their shoulders: this to heare, Would Desdemona seriously incline; But still the house affaires would draw her thence, And euer as she could with hast dispatch, Shee'd come againe, and with a greedy eare Deuoure vp my discourse; which I obseruing, Tooke once a plyant houre, and found good meanes To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcell she had something heard, But not intentiuely, I did consent, And of••en did beguile her of her teares,

When I did speake of some distressed stroake That my youth suffered: my story being done; She gaue me for my paines a world of sighes; She swore I faith twas strange, twas passing strange; Twas pittifull, twas wondrous pitt••full; She wisht she had not heard it, yet she wisht That heauen had made her such a man: she thanked me, And bad me, if I had a friend that loued her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would wooe her. Vpon this heate I spake: She lou'd me for the dangers I had past. And I ••ou'd her that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 did pitty them. This onely is the witchcraft I haue vs'd: Here comes the Lady, Let her wit••esse it.

Enter Desdemona, Iago, and the rest.

Du.

I thinke this tale would win my daughter to,— Good Braba••tio, take vp this mangled matter at the best, Men doe their broken weapons rather vse, Then their bare hands.

Bra.

I pray you heare her speake. If she confesse that she was halfe the wooer, Destruction ••ite on me, if my bad blame Light on the man. Come hither gentle mistresse: Doe you perceiue in all this noble company, Where most you owe obedience?

Des.

My noble father, I doe perceiue here a deuided duty: To you I am bound for l••fe and education; My life and education both do•• learne me How to respect you, you are Lord of all my duty, I am hitherto your daughter, But heere's my husband: And so much duty as my mother shewed To you, preferring you before her father. So much I challenge, that I may profess••, 〈…〉〈…〉 Moore my Lord,

Bra.

God bu'y, I ha done: Please it your Grace, on to the State affaires; I had rather to adopt a child then get it; Come hither Moore: I here doe giue thee that, with all my heart I would keepe from thee: for your sake Ie••ell, I am glad at soule. I haue no other child, For thy escape would teach me tyranny, To hang clogs on em, I haue done my Lord.

Du.

Let me speake like your selfe, and lay a sentence Which as a greese or step may helpe these louers Into your fauour. When remedies are past, the griefes are ended, By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended▪ To mourne a mischeife that is past and gone, Is the next way to draw more mischiefe on; What cannot be preseru'd when fortune takes, Patience her iniury a mockery makes. The rob'd that smiles, steales something from the thiefe, He robs himselfe, that spends a bootelesse griefe.

Bra.

So let the Turke, of Cypres vs beguile, We lose it not so long as we can smile; He beares the sentence well that nothing beares, But the free comfort, which from thence he heares: But he beares both the sentence and the sorrow, That to pay griefe, must of poore patience borrow. These sentences to sugar, or to gall, Being strong on both sides, are equiuocall: But words are words, I neuer yet did heare, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ••are: Beseech you now, to the affaires of the state.

Du.

The Turke with most mighty preparation makes for Cipre••: Othell••, the fortitude of the place, is best knowne to you, and tho we haue there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a so∣ueraigne mistresse of effects, throwes a more safer voyce on you: you must therefore bee content to slubber the gloss•• of your new for∣••••nes, with this more stubborne and boisterous expedition.

Oth.

The tyrant custome most great Senators, Hath made the flinty and steele Cooch of warre, My thrice driuen bed of downe: I doe ag••ize A naturall and prompt alacrity, I finde in hardnesse, and would vndertake This present warres against the Ottamites, Most humbly therefore, bending to your State, I craue fit disposition for my wife, Due reuerence of place and exhibition, Which such accomodation? and besort A•• leuels with her breeding.

Du.

If you please, bee'•• at her fathers.

Bra.

Ile not haue it so.

Oth.

Nor I.

Desd.

Nor I, I would not there reside, To put my father in impatient thoughts, By being in his eye: most gracious Duke, To my vnfolding lend a gracious ••are, And let me finde a charter in your voyce, And if my simplenesse.—

Du.

What would you—speake.

Des.

That I did loue the Moore, to liue with him, My downe right violence, and scorne of Fortunes, May trumpet to the world: my hearts subdued, ••uen to the vtmost pleasure of my Lord: I saw Othelloes vissage in his minde, And to his Honors, and his valiant parts Did I my soule and fortunes consecrate: So that deere Lords, if I be left behinde, A Mothe of peace, and he goe to the warre, The rites for which I loue him, are bereft me, And I a heauy interim shall support, By his deare absence, le•• me goe with him.

Oth.

Your voyces Lords: beseech you let her will, Haue a free way, I therefore b••g it not To 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of my appe••••e, No•• to com••••y with 〈◊〉〈◊〉, the young affects▪

In my defunct, and proper satisfaction, But to be free and bounteous of her mind, And heauen defend your good soules that you thinke I will your serious and good businesse scant, For she is with me;—〈◊〉〈◊〉, when light-wingd toyes, And feather'd Cupid foyles with wanton dulnesse, My speculatiue and actiue instruments, That my disports, corrupt and taint my businesse, Let huswiues make a skellet of my Helme, And all indigne and base aduersities, Make head against my reputation.

Du.

Be it, as you shall priuately determine, Either for stay or going, the affaires cry hast, And speede must answer, you must hence to night,

Desd.

To night my Lord?

Du.

This night.

Oth.

With all my heart.

Du.

At ten i' the morning here weel meete againe. Othello, leaue some officer behind, And he shall our Commission bring to you, With such things else of quality or respect, As doth concerne you.

Oth.

Please your Grace, my Ancient, A man he is of honesty and trust, To his conueyance I assigne my wife, With what else needefull your good Grace shall thinke, To be sent after me.

Du.

Let it be so: Good night to euery one, and noble Seignior, If virtue no delighted beauty lacke, Your son ••n law is farre more faire then blacke.

I Sena.

Adue braue Moore, vse Desdemona well.

Bra.

Looke to her Moore, haue a quicke eye to see, She has deceiu'd her father, may doe thee.

Ex••••nt.

Oth.

My life vpon her faith: honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leaue to thee, I preethee let thy wife attend on her,

And bring her after in the best aduantage; Come Desdemona, I haue but an houre Of loue, of worldly matters, and direction, To spend with thee, we must obey the time.

Rod.

Iago.

Exit Moore and Desdemona.

Iag▪

What saiest thou noble heart?

Rod.

What will I doe thinkest thou?

Iag.

Why goe to bed and sleepe.

Rod.

I will incontinently drowne my selfe.

Iag.

Well, if thou doest, I shall neuer loue thee after it, W••y, thou silly Gentlem••n.

Rod.

It is sillinesse to liue, when to liue is a torment, and then we haue a prescription, to dye when death is our Physition.

Iag.

I ha look'd vpon the world for foure times seuen yeares, and since I could distinguish betweene a be••efit, and an iniury, I ne∣uer found a man that knew how to loue himselfe: ere I would say I would drowne my selfe, for the loue of a Ginny Hen, I would cha••ge my humanity with a Baboone.

Rod.

What should I do? I confesse it is my shame to be so fo••d, but it is not in my vertue to amend it.

Iag.

Vertue? a fig, tis in our selues, that wee are thus, or thus, our bodies are gardens, to the which our wills are Gardiners, so that if we will plant Net••les, or sow Lettice, set Isop, and weed vp Time; supply it with one gender of hearbes, or distract it with many; ei∣ther to haue it sterrill with Idleness••, or manur'd with Industry, why the power, and corrigible Authority of this, lies in our wills. If the ballance of our liues had not one scale of reason, to poise another 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sensu••lity; the blood and basenesse of our natures, would conduct vs to most preposterous conclusions. But wee haue reason to coole our raging mo••ions, our carnall stings, our vnbitted lusts; whereof I take this, that you call loue to be a sect, or syen.

Rod.

It cannot be.

Iag.

It is meerly a lust of the blood, and a permission of the will: Come, be a man; drowne thy selfe? drowne Cats and blinde Pup∣pies: I professe me thy friend, and I confesse me knit to thy de••er∣••ing, with cables of perdurable toughnesse; I could neuer better st••ede thee then now. Put money in thy purse; follow these warres,

defeate thy fauour with an vsurp'd beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be, that Desdemona should long continue her loue vnto the Moore,—put money in the purse,—nor he to her; it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable seque∣stration: put but money in thy purse.—These Moores are change∣able in their wills:—fill thy purse with money. The food that to him now, is as lushious as Locusts, shall be to him shortly as acerbe as the Colloquintida. When shee is sated with his body, shee will finde the error of her choyce; shee must haue change, shee must. Therefore put money in thy purse: if thou wilt needes ••damme thy selfe, doe it a more delicate way then drowning; make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony, and a fraile vow, betwixt an erring Barbarian, and a super subt••e Vexetian, be not too hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enioy her; therefore make money,—a pox a drowning, tis cleane out of the way: seeke thou rather to be hang'd in compassing thy ioy, then to bee drowned, and goe without her.

Rod.

W••lt thou be fast to my hopes?

Iag.

Thou ar••t sure of me—goe, make money—I haue told thee often, and I tell thee againe, and againe, I hate the Moore, my cause is harted, thine has no lesse reason, let vs be communicatiue in our reuenge against him: If thou canst cuckold him, thou doest thy selfe a pleasure, and me a sport. There are many eue••ts in the womb of Time, which will be deliuered. Tra••erce, go, prouide thy money, we will haue more of this to morrow, Adiue.

Rod.

Where shall we meete i'th morning.

Iag.

At my lodging.

Rod.

I'le be with thee betimes.

Iag.

Go to, farewell:—doe you heare Rod••rigo?

Rod.

what say you?

Iag.

No more of drowning, doe you heare?

Rod.

I am chang'd.

Exit Roderigo.

Iag.

Goe to, farewell, put money enough in your pur••e: Thus doe I euer make my foole my purse: For I mine owne gain'd knowledge should prophane, If I would time expend with such a snipe, But for my sport and profit: I hate the Moore,

And it is thought abroad, that twixt my sheetes Ha's done my office; I know not, if't be true— Yet I, for meere suspition in that kind, Will doe, as if for surety: he holds me well, The better shall my purpose worke on him. Cassio's a proper man, let me see now, To get this place, and to make vp my will, A double knauery—how, how,—let me see, After some time, to abuse Othelloe's eare, That he is too familiar with his wife: He has a person and a smooth dispose, To be suspected, fram'd to make women false: The Moore a free and open nature too, That thinkes men honest, that but seemes to be so: And will as tenderly be led bit'h nose—as Asses are▪ I ha't, it is ingender'd: Hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the worlds light.

Exit.