Othello E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Cheapest Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 148

Beschreibung

Othello, the Moor of Venice is a tragedy by William Shakespeare believed to have been written in approximately 1603, and based on the Italian short story 'Un Capitano Moro' ('A Moorish Captain') by Cinthio, a disciple of Boccaccio, first published in 1565. The work revolves around four central characters: Othello, a Moorish general in the Venetian army; his wife Desdemona; his lieutenant, Cassio; and his trusted ensign Iago. Because of its varied themes - racism, love, jealousy, and betrayal - Othello is widely felt to remain relevant to the present day and is often performed in professional and community theatres alike. The play has also been the basis for numerous operatic, film, and literary adaptations.

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Othello

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Table of Contents

About Author:

Act I

SCENE I. Venice. A street.

SCENE II. Another street.

SCENE III. A council-chamber.

Act II

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

SCENE II. A street.

SCENE III. A hall in the castle.

Act III

SCENE I. Before the castle.

SCENE II. A room in the castle.

SCENE III. The garden of the castle.

SCENE IV. Before the castle.

Act IV

SCENE I. Cyprus. Before the castle.

SCENE III. Another room In the castle.

SCENE II. A room in the castle.

Act V

SCENE I. Cyprus. A street.

SCENE II. A bedchamber in the castle: DESDEMONA in bed asleep; a light burning.

About Author:

William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616) was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "The Bard").

His surviving works consist of 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language, and are performed more often than those of any other playwright. Shakespeare was born and raised in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18 he married Anne Hathaway, who bore him three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Between 1585 and 1592 he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part owner of the playing company the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. He appears to have retired to Stratford around 1613, where he died three years later. Few records of Shakespeare's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others.

Shakespeare produced most of his known work between 1590 and 1613. His early plays were mainly comedies and histories, genres he raised to the peak of sophistication and artistry by the end of the sixteenth century. Next he wrote mainly tragedies until about 1608, including Hamlet, King Lear, and Macbeth, considered some of the finest examples in the English language. In his last phase, he wrote tragicomedies, also known as romances, and collaborated with other playwrights. Many of his plays were published in editions of varying quality and accuracy during his lifetime, and in 1623 two of his former theatrical colleagues published the First Folio, a collected edition of his dramatic works that included all but two of the plays now recognised as Shakespeare's. Shakespeare was a respected poet and playwright in his own day, but his reputation did not rise to its present heights until the nineteenth century.

The Romantics, in particular, acclaimed Shakespeare's genius, and the Victorians hero-worshipped Shakes-peare with a reverence that George Bernard Shaw called "bardolatry". In the twentieth century, his work was repeatedly adopted and rediscovered by new movements in scholarship and performance. His plays remain highly popular today and are consistently performed and reinterpreted in diverse cultural and political contexts throughout the world.

Other Books of Shakespeare:

·Romeo and Juliet (1597)

·Hamlet (1599)

·Macbeth (1606)

·A Midsummer Night's Dream (1596)

·Julius Caesar (1599)

·Othello (1603)

·The Merchant of Venice (1598)

·King Lear (1606)

·The Taming of the Shrew (1594)

·The Comedy of Errors (1594)

Act I

SCENE I. Venice. A street.

Enter RODERIGO and IAGO

RODERIGO

Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindlyThat thou, Iago, who hast had my purseAs 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 circumstanceHorribly 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 knowsMore than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,Wherein the toged consuls can proposeAs 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 proofAt Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other groundsChristian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'dBy debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,And I—God bless the mark!—his Moorship's ancient. 

RODERIGO

By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. 

IAGO

Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,Preferment goes by letter and affection,And not by old gradation, where each secondStood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,Whether I in any just term am affinedTo love the Moor. 

RODERIGO

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 mastersCannot be truly follow'd. You shall markMany 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 areWho, 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 linedtheir coatsDo 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,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 demonstrateThe native act and figure of my heartIn compliment extern, 'tis not long afterBut I will wear my heart upon my sleeveFor daws to peck at: I am not what I am. 

RODERIGO

What a full fortune does the thicklips oweIf he can carry't thus! 

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,Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,As it may lose some colour. 

RODERIGO

Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud. 

IAGO

Do, with like timorous accent and dire yellAs when, by night and negligence, the fireIs spied in populous cities. 

RODERIGO

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 appears above, at a window

BRABANTIO

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

RODERIGO

Signior, is all your family within? 

IAGO

Are your doors lock'd? 

BRABANTIO

Why, wherefore ask you this? 

IAGO

'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put onyour gown;Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;Even now, now, very now, an old black ramIs topping 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. 

BRABANTIO

What, have you lost your wits? 

RODERIGO

Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? 

BRABANTIO

Not I what are you? 

RODERIGO

My name is Roderigo. 

BRABANTIO

The worser welcome:I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:In honest plainness thou hast heard me sayMy daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,Being full of supper and distempering draughts,Upon malicious bravery, dost thou comeTo start my quiet. 

RODERIGO

Sir, sir, sir,— 

BRABANTIO

But thou must needs be sureMy spirit and my place have in them powerTo make this bitter to thee. 

RODERIGO

Patience, good sir. 

BRABANTIO

What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;My house is not a grange. 

RODERIGO

Most grave Brabantio,In simple and pure soul I come to you. 

IAGO

'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will notserve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come todo you service and you think we are ruffians, you'llhave your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll havecoursers for cousins and gennets for germans. 

BRABANTIO

What profane wretch art thou? 

IAGO

I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughterand the Moor are now making the beast with two backs. 

BRABANTIO

Thou art a villain. 

IAGO

You are—a senator. 

BRABANTIO

This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo. 

RODERIGO

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 guardBut 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,We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;But if you know not this, my manners tell meWe have your wrong rebuke. Do not believeThat, 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 fortunesIn an extravagant and wheeling strangerOf here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:If she be in her chamber or your house,Let loose on me the justice of the stateFor thus deluding you. 

BRABANTIO

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 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 cheque,Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'dWith such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls,Another of his fathom 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 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 raised search;And there will I be with him. So, farewell. 

Exit

Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches

BRABANTIO

It is too true an evil: gone she is;And what's to come of my despised timeIs 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 she deceives mePast thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers:Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you? 

RODERIGO

Truly, I think they are. 

BRABANTIO

O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood!Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' mindsBy what you see them act. Is there not charmsBy which the property of youth and maidhoodMay be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,Of some such thing? 

RODERIGO

Yes, sir, I have indeed. 

BRABANTIO

Call up my brother. O, would you had had her!Some one way, some another. Do you knowWhere we may apprehend her and the Moor? 

RODERIGO

I think I can discover 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 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 with torches

IAGO

Though in the trade of war I have slain men,Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscienceTo do no contrived murder: I lack iniquitySometimes to do me service: nine or ten timesI had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs. 

OTHELLO

'Tis better as it is. 

IAGO

Nay, but he prated,And spoke such scurvy and provoking termsAgainst your honourThat, with the little godliness I have,I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir,Are you fast married? Be assured of this,That the magnifico is much beloved,And hath in his effect a voice potentialAs double as the duke's: he will divorce you;Or put upon you what restraint and grievanceThe law, with all his might to enforce it on,Will give him cable. 

OTHELLO

Let him do his spite:My services which I have done the signioryShall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,—Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,I shall promulgate—I fetch my life and beingFrom men of royal siege, and my demeritsMay speak unbonneted to as proud a fortuneAs this that I have reach'd: for know, Iago,But that I love the gentle Desdemona,I would not my unhoused free conditionPut into circumscription and confineFor the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yond? 

IAGO

Those are the raised father and his friends:You were best go in. 

OTHELLO

Not I I must be found:My parts, my title and my perfect soulShall manifest me rightly. Is it they? 

IAGO

By Janus, I think no. 

Enter CASSIO, and certain Officers with torches

OTHELLO

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

CASSIO

The duke does greet you, general,And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,Even on the instant. 

OTHELLO

What is the matter, think you? 

CASSIO

Something from Cyprus as I may divine:It is a business of some heat: the galleysHave sent a dozen sequent messengersThis very night at one another's heels,And many of the consuls, raised and met,Are at the duke's already: you have beenhotly call'd for;When, being not at your lodging to be found,The senate hath sent about three several guestsTo search you out. 

OTHELLO

'Tis well I am found by you.I will but spend a word here in the house,And go with you. 

Exit

CASSIO

Ancient, what makes he here? 

IAGO

'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack:If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. 

CASSIO

I do not understand. 

IAGO

He's married. 

CASSIO

To who? 

Re-enter OTHELLO

IAGO

Marry, to—Come, captain, will you go? 

OTHELLO

Have with you. 

CASSIO

Here comes another troop to seek for you. 

IAGO

It is Brabantio. General, be advised;He comes to bad intent. 

Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers with torches and weapons

OTHELLO

Holla! stand there! 

RODERIGO

Signior, it is the Moor. 

BRABANTIO

Down with him, thief! 

They draw on both sides

IAGO

You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you. 

OTHELLO

Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.Good signior, you shall more command with yearsThan with your weapons. 

BRABANTIO

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 shunnedThe wealthy curled darlings of our nation,Would ever have, to incur a general mock,Run from her guardage to the sooty bosomOf such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight.Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in senseThat thou hast practised on her with foul charms,Abused her delicate youth with drugs or mineralsThat weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on;'Tis probable and palpable to thinking.I therefore apprehend and do attach theeFor an abuser of the world, a practiserOf arts inhibited and out of warrant.Lay hold upon him: if he do resist,Subdue him at his peril. 

OTHELLO

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