What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,
That thou so many princes, at a shot,
So bloodily hast struck!

1 Amb.

The sight is dismal; And our affairs from England come too late: The ears are senseless, that should give us hearing, To tell him, his commandment is fulfill'd, That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead: Where should we have our thanks?

Hor. Not from his mouth, Had it the ability of life to thank you; He never gave commandment for their death. But since, so jump upon this bloody question, You from the Polack' wars, and you from England, Are here arriv'd; give order, that these bodies High on a stage be placed to the view;

How these things come about: So shall you hear
Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts;
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters;
Of deaths put on by cunning, and forced cause;
And in this upshot, purposes mistook
Fall'n on the inventors' heads: all this can I
Truly deliver.

Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mis-
But let this same be presently perform'd,
chance,

On plots and errors, happen.
Fort.

Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
Let four captains
For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have prov'd most royally: and, for his passage,
The soldier's music, and the rites of war,
Speak loudly for him.-

Take up the bodies:-Such a sight as this Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot. [A Dead March. [Exeunt, bearing off the dead Bodies; after which, a Peal of Ordnance is shot off.

SCENE I-Venice.

A Street.

Enter RODERIGO and IAGO.

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,

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 theoric,
Wherein the toged consuls can propose

As masterly as he mere prattle, without practice,
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

cient.

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 lined
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,

It was anciently the practice to reckon up sums with counters. • Related.

Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
Rod. What a full fortune does the thick lips owe,
If he can carry't thus!

6

Iago. Call up her father, Rouse him make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,

daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

Bra. Thou art a villain.

Iago.

You are a senator.

Bra. This thou shalt answer: I know thee, Roderigo.

Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech you,

If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent,
(As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter,
At this odd-even' and dull watch o' the night,
Transported-with no worse nor better guard,
But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier-
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,-
If this be known to you, and your allowance,'

Rod. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud. Iago. Do; with like timorous accent, and dire yell, As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous cities.

Rod. What ho! Brabantio! signior Brabantio, ho! Iago. Awake! what ho! Brabantio! thieves!

thieves! thieves!

Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! Thieves! thieves!

BRABANTIO, above, at a Window.

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

Rod. Signior, is all your family within?
lago. Are your doors lock'd?

Bra.
Why? wherefore ask you this?
Iago. Zounds, sir, you are robb'd; for shame, put

on your gown;

Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
Even now, very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise;
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:
Arise, I say.

Bra. What, have you lost your wits?
Rod. Most reverend signior,do you know my voice?
Bra. Not I: What are you?
Rod. My name is-Roderigo.
Bra.

The worse welcome;
I have charged 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 distempering draughts,
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
To start my quiet.

Rod. Sir, sir, sir, sir,Bra.

But thou must needs be sure,
My spirit, and my place, have in them power
To make this bitter to thee.

Rod.
Patience, good sir.
Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is
Venice!

My house is not a grange."
Rod.
Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you.
lago. Zounds, sir, you are one of those, that will
not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we
come to do you service, you think we are ruffians:
You'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary
horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you:
you'll have coursers for cousins, and gennets for

germans.

But, if you know not this, my manners tell me,
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,
That, from the sense of all civility,

I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
Your daughter,-if you have not given her leave,—
I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,
In an extravagant' and wheeling stranger,
Of here and every where: Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you.

Bra.

Strike on the tinder, ho! Give me a taper;-call up all my people :This accident is not unlike my dream, Belief of it oppresses me already :Light, I say! light!

[Exit from above. Iago. Farewell; for I must leave you: It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, To be produced (as, if I stay, I shall) Against the Moor: For, I do know, the state,However this may gall him with some check,Cannot with safety cast him; for he's embark'd With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars, (Which even now stand in act,) that, for their souls, Another of his fathom they have not, To lead their business: in which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell pains, Yet, for necessity of present life,

I must show out a flag and sign of love,
Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely
find him,

Lead to the Sagittary the rais'd search;
And there will I be with him. So farewell. [Exit.
Enter below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with
Torches.

Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is;
And what's to come of my despised time,'
Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her?-O, unhappy girl!—
With the Moor, say'st thou ?-Who would be a
father?

How didst thou know 'twas she? O, thou deceiv'st me Past thought!-What said she to you?-Get

more tapers:

Raise all my kindred.-Are they married, think you?

Rod. Truly, I think, they are.

Bra. O heaven!-how got she out?-O treason of the blood!

Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds By what you see them act.-Are there not charms, By which the property of youth and maidhood May be abus'd? Have you not read, Roderigo,

A lone farm-house. • Relations.

• Midnight. Approbation. Wandering. Old age.

Bra. Call up my brother.-O, that you had had her!

Some one way, some another.-Do you know Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? Rod. I think, I can discover him: if you please To get good guard, and go along with me.

Bra. Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call ; I may command at most;-Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night.— On, good Roderigo :-I'll deserve your pains.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II-Another Street. Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants. lago. Though in the trade of war I have slain

men,

Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience,
To do no contriv'd murder; I lack iniquity
Sometimes to do me service: Nine or ten times

I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.

Oth. "Tis better as it is. lago.

Nay, but he prated,

Bra.

And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
Against your honor,

That with the little godliness I have,

I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray, sir,
Are you fast married? for, be sure of this,-
That the magnifico' is much belov'd;
And hath, in his effect, a voice potential
As double as the duke's; he will divorce you;
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
The law (with all his might, to enforce it on)
Will give him cable.

Oth.
Let him do his spite:
My services, which I have done the signiory,
Shall out-tongue his complaints. "Tis yet to know,
(Which when I know that boasting is an honor,
I shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege; and my demerits"
May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach'd: For know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhoused free condition
Put into circumscription and confine

For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yonder?

Enter CASSIO, at a distance, and certain Officers with Torches.

Jago. These are the raised father, and his friends: You were best go in. Oth.

Not I: I must be found; My parts, my title, and my perfect soul, Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? Iago. By Janus, I think no.

lieutenant.

Oth. The servants of the duke, and my The goodness of the night upon you, friends! What is the news?

Cas.

The duke does greet you, general; And he requires your haste-poste-haste appearance,

Even on the instant.

Oth.

What is the matter, think you? Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine; It is a business of some heat: the gallies Have sent a dozen sequent messengers This very night at one another's heels; And many of the consuls, rais'd, and met, Are at the duke's already: You have been

call'd for;

▲ Brabantio, magnifico is his title as a senator. Seat or throne.

hotly

• Demerits has the same meaning in Shakspeare as merits.

Down with him, thief! [They draw on both sides.

Iago. You, Roderigo! come sir, I am for you. Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew

will rust them.

Good signior, you shall more command with years, Than with your weapons.

Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter?

Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her:
For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
Whether a maid-so tender, fair, and happy;
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,
Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
Of such a thing as thou: to fear, not to delight.
Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense,
That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms;
Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals,
That waken motion:-I'll have it disputed on;
"Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
I therefore apprehend and do attach thee,
For an abuser of the world, a practiser
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant:-

Lay hold upon him; if he do resist,
Subdue him at his peril.

Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own;
For if such actions may have passage free,
Bond-slaves, and pagans, shall our statesmen be.

[Exeunt.

Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Officers.

SCENE III-A Council Chamber.

cers attending.

Duke. There is no composition in these news, That gives them credit.

1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion'd; My letters say, a hundred and seven gallies. Duke. And mine a hundred and forty. 2 Sen. And mine, two hundred: But though they jump not on a just account, (As in these cases, where the aim' reports, "Tis oft with difference,) yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment;

I do not so secure me in the error,
But the main article I do approve
In fearful sense.

[To BRABANTIO. We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night. Bra. So did I yours: Good your grace, pardon

She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted

Enter an Officer, with a Sailor.

Off. A messenger from the gallies.

Duke.

Now the business?

Rhodes:

By no assay of reason; 'tis a pageant,
To keep us in false gaze: When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk;
And let ourselves again but understand,
That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question' bear it,
For that it stands not in such warlike brace,'
But altogether lacks the abilities

And you of her, the bloody book of law
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter,
After your own sense; yea, though our proper son
Stood in your action.'

Bra.
Humbly I thank your grace.
Here is the man, this Moor; whom now, it seems,
Your special mandate, for the state affairs,

Hath hither brought.

Duke & Sen.

We are very sorry for it.

Bra. Nothing but this is so.

Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,

For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest actions in the tented field:
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious pa-
tience,

I will a round unvarnished tale deliver

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,

What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charged withal,) I won his daughter with.

Bra.
A maiden never bold;
Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
Blush'd at herself; and she,-in spite of nature,
Of years, of country, credit, every thing,-
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on?

It is a judgment maim'd, and most imperfect,
That will confess-perfection so could err
Against all rules of nature, and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning hell,
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again,

1 Easy dispute.