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Othello (The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice) is a tragedy by William Shakespeare, believed to have been written in 1603. It is based on the story Un Capitano Moro ("A Moorish Captain") by Cinthio, a disciple of Boccaccio, first published in 1565. The story revolves around its two central characters: Othello, a Moorish general in the Venetian army and his unfaithful ensign, Iago. Given its varied and enduring themes of racism, love, jealousy, betrayal, revenge and repentance, Othello is still often performed in professional and community theatre alike, and has been the source for numerous operatic, film, and literary adaptations (font: Wikipedia)
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Scene I. Venice. A street.
Scene II. Another street.
Scene III. A council-chamber.
Scene I. A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.
Scene II. A street.
Scene III. A hall in the castle.
Scene I. Before the castle.
Scene II. A room in the castle.
Scene III. The garden of the castle.
Scene IV. Before the castle.
Scene I. Cyprus. Before the castle.
Scene II. A room in the castle.
Scene III. Another room In the castle.
Scene I. Cyprus. A street.
Scene II. A bedchamber in the castle: Desdemona in bed asleep;
Othello, the Moor, general of the Venetian forces.Desdemona, his wife.Iago, ensign to Othello.Emilia, his wife, lady-in-waiting to Desdemona.Cassio, lieutenant to Othello.The Duke Of Venice.Brabantio, Venetian Senator, father of Desdemona.Gratiano, nobleman of Venice, brother of Brabantio.Lodovico, nobleman of Venice, kinsman of Brabantio.Roderigo, rejected suitor of Desdemona.Bianca, mistress of Cassio.Montano, a Cypriot official.A Clown in service to Othello.Senators, Sailors, Messengers, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and Attendants.
Scene: Venice and Cyprus.
Enter Roderigo and Iago
Roderigo Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.
Iago ’Sblood, but you will not hear me: If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.
Roderigo Thou told’st me thou didst 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, Off-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 practise, 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.
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