Performed at court, November 1604; apparently uses Knolles’ Historie of the Turkes, published late 1603; probably post-dates the period when theaters were closed due to the plague from May 1603 to April 1604. The Turkish wars in the eastern Mediterranean were of interest to King James, who had written a poem about the 1571 naval battle of Lepanto, which was reprinted in 1603, the year of his accession to the English throne. Some scholars, however, argue for a slightly earlier date.

SOURCES: Based on a novella in Giovanni Battista Giraldi Cinthio’s Gli Hecatommithi (1565), perhaps read in a 1584 French translation by Gabriel Chappuys. Context probably provided by Richard Knolles, The Generall Historie of the Turkes (1603), Sir Lewis Lewkenor’s translation of Gasparo Contarini’s The Commonwealth and Government of Venice (1599), and John Pory’s translation of Leo Africanus’ Geographical Historie of Africa (1600).

TEXT: There are two early texts, markedly different from each other: a Quarto published in 1622 and the First Folio of 1623. The Folio contains over 150 lines that are not in the Quarto. The Quarto has fuller stage directions, a handful of lines that are absent from the Folio, and a large number of oaths that were watered down or omitted in the Folio, as a result of the prohibition on stage swearing. In all, there are about a thousand verbal variants. The two texts seem to derive from different theatrical manuscripts, the Folio possibly having being set from a transcript by Ralph Crane, scribe to the King’s Men. Scholars are divided as to whether the Folio-only passages, which include Othello’s “Pontic sea” speech and Desdemona’s willow song, are theatrically purposeful additions or theatrically pragmatic cuts. We respect the integrity of the Folio text, but in correcting its manifest errors—which are many, largely due to the presence of “Compositor E,” the apprentice who was the poorest of the Folio’s typesetters—we have been greatly helped by the existence of the Quarto.

THE TRAGEDY OF
OTHELLO,
THE MOOR OF VENICE

LIST OF PARTS

OTHELLO, the Moor (a general in the military service of Venice)

BRABANTIO (a senator) father to Desdemona

CASSIO, an honourable lieutenant

IAGO, a villain (Othello’s flagbearer)

RODORIGO, a gulled gentleman

DUKE of Venice

SENATORS

MONTANO, Governor of Cyprus

LODOVICO, noble Venetian (kinsmen of Brabantio)

GRATIANO, noble Venetian (kinsmen of Brabantio)

SAILORS

CLOWN (servant to Othello)

DESDEMONA (daughter of Brabantio) wife to Othello

EMILIA, wife to Iago

BIANCA, a courtesan

(Officers, Messenger, Herald, Musicians and Attendants)

Act 1 Scene 1

running scene 1

Location: Venice (street)

Enter Rodorigo and Iago

RODORIGO   Never tell me!1 I take it much unkindly
     That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse
     As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this3.

IAGO   But you’ll not hear me: if ever I did dream
     Of such a matter, abhor me.

RODORIGO   Thou told’st me
     Thou didst hold him7 in thy hate.

IAGO   Despise me
     If I do not. Three great ones9 of the city,
     In personal suit10 to make me his lieutenant,
     Off-capped11 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 circumstance14
     Horribly stuffed with epithets of war15,
     Nonsuits my mediators16. For ‘Certes’, says he,
     ‘I have already chose my officer.’
     And what was he?
     Forsooth19, a great arithmetician,
     One Michael Cassio, a Florentine20
     A fellow almost damned in a fair wife21
     That never set a squadron22 in the field
     Nor the division of a battle knows23
     More than a spinster24, unless the bookish theoric,
     Wherein the toga’d consuls25 can propose
     As masterly as he. Mere prattle26 without practice
     Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had th’election27;
     And I — of whom his28 eyes had seen the proof
     At Rhodes29, at Cyprus and on others’ grounds,
     Christened30 and heathen — must be beleed and calmed
     By debitor and creditor31: this counter-caster,
     He — in good time32 — must his lieutenant be,
     And I — bless the mark33! — his Moorship’s ancient.

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

IAGO   Why, there’s no remedy: ’tis the curse of service35;
     Preferment36 goes by letter and affection,
     And not by old gradation37, where each second
     Stood heir to th’first. Now, sir, be judge yourself
     Whether I in any just term39 am affined
     To love the Moor.

RODORIGO   I would not follow41 him then.

IAGO   O, sir, content you:
     I follow him to serve my turn43 upon him.
     We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
     Cannot be truly45 followed. You shall mark
     Many a duteous and knee-crooking46 knave
     That — doting on his own obsequious bondage —
     Wears out his time48, much like his master’s ass,
     For nought but provender49, and when he’s old, cashiered:
     Whip me50 such honest knaves. Others there are
     Who, trimmed51 in forms and visages of duty,
     Keep yet their hearts attending on52 themselves,
     And throwing but shows of service on their lords,
     Do well thrive by them,
     And when they have lined their coats55
     Do themselves homage56: these fellows have some soul,
     And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,
     It is as sure as you are Rodorigo,
     Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago59:
     In following him, I follow but myself.
     Heaven is my judge, not I for61 love and duty,
     But seeming so, for my peculiar62 end,
     For when my outward action doth demonstrate63
     The native64 act and figure of my heart
     In compliment extern65, ’tis not long after
     But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
     For daws67 to peck at: I am not what I am.

RODORIGO   What a full68 fortune does the thick-lips owe
     If he can carry’t69 thus!

IAGO   Call up her father:
     Rouse him, make after71 him, poison his delight,
     Proclaim72 him in the streets, incense her kinsmen,
     And though73 he in a fertile climate dwell,
     Plague him with flies: though that74 his joy be joy,
     Yet throw such chances75 of vexation on’t
     As it may76 lose some colour.

RODORIGO   Here is her father’s house, I’ll call aloud.

IAGO   Do, with like timorous accent78 and dire yell
     As when, by night and negligence, the fire
     Is spied in populous cities.

RODORIGO   What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!

IAGO   Awake! What, ho! Brabantio, thieves, thieves!
     Look to your house, your daughter and your bags83!
     Thieves, thieves!

BRABANTIO   What is the reason of this terrible summons?

Above85

At a window

     What is the matter there?

RODORIGO   Signior, is all your family within?

IAGO   Are your doors locked?

BRABANTIO   Why? Wherefore89 ask you this?

IAGO   Sir, you’re robbed. For shame, put on your gown90!
     Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul:
     Even now, now, very now, an old black ram92
     Is tupping93 your white ewe. Arise, arise!
     Awake the snorting94 citizens with the bell,
     Or else the devil95 will make a grandsire of you.
     Arise, I say!

BRABANTIO   What, have you lost your wits?

RODORIGO   Most reverend98 signior, do you know my voice?

BRABANTIO   Not I: what are you?

RODORIGO   My name is Rodorigo.

BRABANTIO   The worser welcome.
     I have charged102 thee not to haunt about my doors:
     In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
     My daughter is not for thee: and now in madness —
     Being full of supper and distemp’ring draughts105
     Upon malicious knavery dost thou come
     To start107 my quiet.

RODORIGO   Sir, sir, sir—

BRABANTIO   But thou must needs be sure
     My spirits and my place110 have in their power
     To make this bitter to thee.

RODORIGO   Patience, good sir.

BRABANTIO   What tell’st thou me of robbing?
     This is Venice: my house is not a grange114.

RODORIGO   Most grave115 Brabantio,
     In simple116 and pure soul I come to you.

IAGO   Sir, you are one of those that will not serve God if
     the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you
     think we are ruffians, you’ll have your daughter covered119
     with a Barbary horse120: you’ll have your nephews neigh to
     you: you’ll have coursers121 for
     cousins and jennets for germans122.

BRABANTIO   What profane123 wretch art thou?

IAGO   I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter
     and the Moor are making the beast with two backs125.

BRABANTIO   Thou art a villain.

IAGO   You are a senator.

BRABANTIO   This thou shalt answer128. I know thee, Rodorigo.

RODORIGO   Sir, I will answer anything. But I beseech you
     If’t be your pleasure130 and most wise consent —
     As partly I find it is — that your fair daughter,
     At this odd-even132 and dull watch o’th’night,
     Transported with133 no worse nor better guard
     But with134 a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
     To the gross135 clasps of a lascivious Moor:
     If this be known to you and your allowance136
     We then have done you bold and saucy137 wrongs:
     But if you know not this, my manners tell me
     We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
     That, from140 the sense of all civility,
     I thus would play and trifle with your reverence141.
     Your daughter — if you have not given her leave142
     I say again, hath made a gross143 revolt,
     Tying her duty, beauty, wit144 and fortunes
     In145 an extravagant and wheeling stranger
     Of here and everywhere. Straight146 satisfy yourself:
     If she be in her chamber or your house,
     Let loose on me the justice of the state
     For thus deluding you.

BRABANTIO   Strike on the tinder150, ho!
     Give me a taper151! Call up all my people!
     This accident152 is not unlike my dream:
     Belief of it oppresses me already.
     Light, I say, light!

Exit [above]

IAGO   Farewell, for I must leave you:
     It seems not meet156 nor wholesome to my place
     To be producted157 — as, if I stay, I shall —
     Against the Moor, for I do know the state,
     However this may gall159 him with some check,
     Cannot with safety cast160 him, for he’s embarked
     With such loud reason161 to the Cyprus wars,
     Which even now stands in act162, that, for their souls,
     Another of his fathom163 they have none,
     To lead their business: in which regard,
     Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains.
     Yet for necessity of present life166
     I must show out a flag and sign167 of love,
     Which is indeed but sign. That168 you shall surely find him,
     Lead to the Sagittary169 the raisèd search,
     And there will I be with him. So farewell.

Exit

Enter Brabantio with Servants and torches

BRABANTIO   It is too true an evil: gone she is,
     And what’s to come of my despisèd time172
     Is nought but bitterness. Now, Rodorigo,
     Where didst thou see her?— O, unhappy174 girl!—
     With the Moor, say’st thou?— Who would be a father?—
     How didst thou know ’twas she?— O, she deceives me
     Past thought177!— What said she to you?— Get more tapers:
     Raise all my kindred.— Are they married, think you?

RODORIGO   Truly, I think they are.

BRABANTIO   O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood180!
     Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters’ minds
     By what you see them act. Is there not charms182
     By which the property183 of youth and maidhood
     May be abused? Have you not read, Rodorigo,
     Of some such thing?

RODORIGO   Yes, sir, I have indeed.

BRABANTIO   Call up my brother.—
     O, would you had had her!—

To Rodorigo

     Some one way, some another.— Do you know
     Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?

RODORIGO   I think I can discover190 him, if you please
     To get good guard and go along with me.

BRABANTIO   Pray you lead on. At every house I’ll call:
     I may command193 at most.— Get weapons, ho!
     And raise some special officers of might.—
     On, good Rodorigo: I will deserve your pains195.

Exeunt

Act 1 Scene 2

running scene 2

Location: Venice (outside the Sagittary)

Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants with torches

IAGO   Though in the trade1 of war I have slain men,
     Yet do I hold it very stuff2 o’th’conscience
     To do no contrived3 murder: I lack iniquity
     Sometime to do me service.