Othello

take this that you call love to be a sect or scion. Roderigo It cannot be. Iago 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 Moor⁠—put money in thy purse⁠—nor he his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration:⁠—put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills: fill thy purse with money:⁠—the food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice: she must have change, she must: 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 sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian 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 clean out of the way: seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her. Roderigo Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue? Iago Thou art sure of me:⁠—go, make money:⁠—I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, me 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 to-morrow. Adieu. Roderigo Where shall we meet i’ the morning? Iago At my lodging. Roderigo I’ll be with thee betimes. Iago Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? Roderigo What say you? Iago No more of drowning, do you hear? Roderigo I am changed: I’ll go sell all my land. Exit. Iago

Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
For I mine own gain’d knowledge should profane,
If I would time expend with such a snipe.
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor:
And it is thought abroad, that ’twixt my sheets
He has done my office: I know not if’t 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.
Cassio’s a proper man: let me see now:
To get his place and to plume up my will
In double knavery⁠—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 Moor 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 have’t. It is engender’d. Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light. Exit.

Act II

Scene I

A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.

	Enter Montano and two Gentlemen.
Montano	What from the cape can you discern at sea?
First Gentleman	Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood; I cannot, ’twixt the heaven and the main, Descry a sail.
Montano	Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; A fuller blast ne’er shook our battlements: If it hath ruffian’d so upon the sea, What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?
Second Gentleman	A segregation of the Turkish fleet: For do but stand upon the foaming shore, The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds; The wind-shaked 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 molestation view On the enchafed flood.
Montano	If that the Turkish fleet Be not enshelter’d and embay’d, they are drown’d: It is impossible they bear it out.
	Enter a third Gentleman.
Third Gentleman	News, lads! our wars are done. The desperate tempest hath so bang’d the Turks, That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance On most part of their fleet.
Montano	How! is this true?
Third Gentleman	The ship is here put in, A Veronesa; Michael Cassio, Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello, Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea, And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
Montano	I am glad on’t; ’tis a worthy governor.
Third Gentleman	But this same Cassio, though he speak 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.
Montano	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.
Third Gentleman	Come, let’s do so: For every minute is expectancy Of more arrivance.
	Enter Cassio.
Cassio	Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle, That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens Give him defence against the elements, For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea.
Montano	Is he well shipp’d?
Cassio	His bark is stoutly timber’d, his pilot Of very expert and approved allowance; Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, Stand in bold cure. A cry within “A sail, a sail, a sail!”
	Enter a fourth Gentleman.
Cassio	What noise?
Fourth Gentleman	The town is empty; on the