Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: Othello by Shakespeare William
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page
Ebook has 902 lines and 31539 words, and 19 pages
This is our 3rd edition of most of these plays. See the index.
The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice
by William Shakespeare
July, 2000
Executive Director's Notes:
Barnardo. Who's there? Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold your selfe
Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available . . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors that are "not" errors. . . .
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes , typo's and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within brackets is what I have added. So if you don't like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may be differences between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer's habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions' best pages.
David Reed
The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Rodorigo, and Iago.
Rodorigo. Neuer tell me, I take it much vnkindly That thou who hast had my purse, As if y strings were thine, should'st know of this
Ia. But you'l not heare me. If euer I did dream Of such a matter, abhorre me
Rodo. Thou told'st me, Thou did'st hold him in thy hate
Iago. Why, there's no remedie. 'Tis the cursse of Seruice; Preferment goes by Letter, and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood Heire to'th' first. Now Sir, be iudge your selfe, Whether I in any iust terme am Affin'd To loue the Moore? Rod. I would not follow him then
Iago. O Sir content you. I follow him, to serue my turne vpon him. We cannot all be Masters, nor all Masters Cannot be truely follow'd. You shall marke Many a dutious and knee-crooking knaue; That Weares out his time, much like his Masters Asse, For naught but Prouender, & when he's old Casheer'd. Whip me such honest knaues. Others there are Who trym'd in Formes, and visages of Dutie, Keepe yet their hearts attending on themselues, And throwing but showes of Seruice on their Lords Doe well thriue by them. And when they haue lin'd their Coates Doe themselues Homage. These Fellowes haue some soule, And such a one do I professe my selfe. For It is as sure as you are Rodorigo, Were I the Moore, I would not be Iago: In following him, I follow but my selfe. Heauen is my Iudge, not I for loue and dutie, But seeming so, for my peculiar end: For when my outward Action doth demonstrate The natiue act, and figure of my heart In Complement externe, 'tis not long after But I will weare my heart vpon my sleeue For Dawes to pecke at; I am not what I am
Rod. What a fall Fortune do's the Thicks-lips owe If he can carry't thus? Iago. Call vp her Father: Rowse him, make after him, poyson his delight, Proclaime him in the Streets. Incense her kinsmen, And though he in a fertile Clymate dwell, Plague him with Flies: though that his Ioy be Ioy, Yet throw such chances of vexation on't, As it may loose some colour
Rodo. Heere is her Fathers house, Ile call aloud
Iago. Doe, with like timerous accent, and dire yell, As when the Fire Is spied in populus Citties
Rodo. What hoa: Brabantio, Signior Brabantio, hoa
Iago. Awake: what hoa, Brabantio: Theeues, Theeues. Looke to your house, your daughter, and your Bags, Theeues, Theeues
Bra. Aboue. What is the reason of this terrible Summons? What is the matter there? Rodo. Signior is all your Familie within? Iago. Are your Doores lock'd? Bra. Why? Wherefore ask you this? Iago. Sir, y'are rob'd, for shame put on your Gowne, Your heart is burst, you haue lost halfe your soule Euen now, now, very now, an old blacke Ram Is tupping your white Ewe. Arise, arise, Awake the snorting Cittizens with the Bell, Or else the deuill will make a Grand-sire of you. Arise I say
Bra. What, haue you lost your wits? Rod. Most reuerend Signior, do you know my voice? Bra. Not I: what are you? Rod. My name is Rodorigo
Bra. The worsser welcome: I haue charg'd thee not to haunt about my doores: In honest plainenesse thou hast heard me say, My Daughter is not for thee. And now in madnesse Vpon malitious knauerie, dost thou come To start my quiet
Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir
Bra. But thou must needs be sure, My spirits and my place haue in their power To make this bitter to thee
Rodo. Patience good Sir
Bra. What tell'st thou me of Robbing? This is Venice: my house is not a Grange
Rodo. Most graue Brabantio, In simple and pure soule, I come to you
Ia. Sir: you are one of those that will not serue God, if the deuill bid you. Because we come to do you seruice, and you thinke we are Ruffians, you'le haue your Daughter couer'd with a Barbary horse, you'le haue your Nephewes neigh to you, you'le haue Coursers for Cozens: and Gennets for Germaines
Bra. What prophane wretch art thou? Ia. I am one Sir, that comes to tell you, your Daughter and the Moore, are making the Beast with two backs
Bra. Thou art a Villaine
Iago. You are a Senator
Bra. This thou shalt answere. I know thee Rodorigo
Rod. Sir, I will answere any thing. But I beseech you If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent, that your faire Daughter, At this odde Euen and dull watch o'th' night Transported with no worse nor better guard, But with a knaue of common hire, a Gundelier, To the grosse claspes of a Lasciuious Moore: If this be knowne to you, and your Allowance, We then haue done you bold, and saucie wrongs. But if you know not this, my Manners tell me, We haue your wrong rebuke. Do not beleeue That from the sence of all Ciuilitie, I thus would play and trifle with your Reuerence. Your Daughter I say againe, hath made a grosse reuolt, Tying her Dutie, Beautie, Wit, and Fortunes In an extrauagant, and wheeling Stranger, Of here, and euery where: straight satisfie your selfe. If she be in her Chamber, or your house, Let loose on me the Iustice of the State For thus deluding you
Bra. Strike on the Tinder, hoa: Giue me a Taper: call vp all my people, This Accident is not vnlike my dreame, Beleefe of it oppresses me alreadie. Light, I say, light. Enter.
Iag. Farewell: for I must leaue you. It seemes not meete, nor wholesome to my place To be producted, Against the Moore. For I do know the State, Cannot with safetie cast-him. For he's embark'd With such loud reason to the Cyprus Warres, that for their soules Another of his Fadome, they haue none, To lead their Businesse. In which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell paines, Yet, for necessitie of present life, I must show out a Flag, and signe of Loue, that you shal surely find him Lead to the Sagitary the raised Search: And there will I be with him. So farewell.
Enter.
Enter Brabantio, with Seruants and Torches.
Bra. It is too true an euill. Gone she is, And what's to come of my despised time, Is naught but bitternesse. Now Rodorigo, Where didst thou see her? With the Moore saist thou? How didst thou know 'twas she? what said she to you? Get moe Tapers. Raise all my Kindred. Are they married thinke you? Rodo. Truely I thinke they are
Bra. Call vp my Brother: oh would you had had her. Some one way, some another. Doe you know Where we may apprehend her, and the Moore? Rod. I thinke I can discouer him, if you please To get good Guard, and go along with me
Bra. Pray you lead on. At euery house Ile call, get Weapons And raise some speciall Officers of might: On good Rodorigo, I will deserue your paines.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page