Othello E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Librofilio
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 141

Beschreibung

"Othello" by William Shakespeare is a captivating tale of love, jealousy, and the destructive power of deceit. Set against the backdrop of Venice, this timeless tragedy follows the noble Moorish general Othello as he falls deeply in love with the beautiful Desdemona. However, their happiness is short-lived as the ensign Iago, consumed by jealousy and ambition, begins to manipulate Othello into believing that Desdemona has been unfaithful.

What unfolds is a gripping narrative of deception, manipulation, and the tragic consequences of mistrust. Shakespeare masterfully explores themes of race, power, and the fragility of human emotions. As Othello's trust in Desdemona erodes, the play hurtles towards its devastating climax, showcasing the devastating impact of jealousy on love and honor.

With its powerful characters, intricate plot, and profound insights into the human psyche, "Othello" remains a timeless classic that continues to resonate with audiences today. It's a compelling exploration of the destructive forces that can lurk within us all, making it a must-read for those seeking to delve into the complexities of human nature.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR




William Shakespeare, the immortal bard of Avon, was a masterful playwright and poet whose brilliance continues to captivate the world. Born in 1564 in Stratford-upon-Avon, England, his life remains shrouded in mystery, yet his literary legacy shines brightly. Shakespeare's unparalleled talent crafted timeless works such as "Romeo and Juliet", "Hamlet", and "Macbeth", exploring the depths of human emotion and the complexities of the human psyche. His words, like a symphony of language, have left an indelible mark on literature, theater, and culture, transcending time and space. Today, his eloquence and storytelling prowess continue to enchant audiences, making him an everlasting icon of artistic excellence.

Leseprobe

Othello

William Shakespeare

– 1603 –

Dramatis Personæ

DUKE OF VENICEBRABANTIO, a Senator of Venice and Desdemona’s fatherOther SenatorsGRATIANO, Brother to BrabantioLODOVICO, Kinsman to BrabantioOTHELLO, a noble Moor in the service of VeniceCASSIO, his LieutenantIAGO, his AncientMONTANO, Othello’s predecessor in the government of CyprusRODERIGO, a Venetian GentlemanCLOWN, Servant to Othello

DESDEMONA, Daughter to Brabantio and Wife to OthelloEMILIA, Wife to IagoBIANCA, Mistress to Cassio

Officers, Gentlemen, Messenger, Musicians, Herald, Sailor, Attendants, &c.

SCENE: The First Act in Venice; during the rest of the Play at a Seaport in Cyprus.

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 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 knowsMore than a spinster, unless the bookish theoric,Wherein the toged consuls can proposeAs masterly as he: mere prattle without practiceIs 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 grounds,Christian and heathen, must be belee’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 yourselfWhether I in any just term am affin’dTo 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 knaveThat, 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 lin’d 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,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 complement 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 thick-lips owe,If 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 color.

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!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 locked?

BRABANTIO.Why, wherefore ask you this?

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

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 charg’d 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 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 cover’d with a Barbary horse; you’ll have your nephews neigh to you; you’ll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.

BRABANTIO.What profane wretch art thou?

IAGO.I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and 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 anything. 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,We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs.But if you know not this, my manners tell me,We 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 everywhere. 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 from above.]

IAGO.Farewell; for I must leave you:It seems not meet nor wholesome to my placeTo be produc’d, 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’dWith such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls,Another of his fathom they have noneTo 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 Brabantio with Servants and torches.

BRABANTIO.It is too true an evil. Gone she is,And what’s to come of my despised time,Is naught 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 pleaseTo 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 will deserve your pains.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. Venice. 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 contriv’d 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 honour,That with the little godliness I have,I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir,Are you fast married? Be assur’d of this,That the magnifico is much belov’dAnd 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 signiory,Shall 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 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 appearanceEven 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, rais’d and met,Are at the duke’s already. You have been hotly call’d for,When, being not at your lodging to be found,The senate hath sent about three several questsTo 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 tonight hath boarded a land carrack:If it prove lawful prize, he’s made forever.

CASSIO.I do not understand.

IAGO.He’s married.

CASSIO.To who?

Enter Othello.

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

OTHELLO.Have with you.

CASSIO.Here comes another troop to seek for you.

Enter Brabantio, Roderigo and Officers with torches and weapons.

IAGO.It is Brabantio. General, be advis’d,He comes to bad intent.

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 shunn’dThe 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 sense,That thou hast practis’d on her with foul charms,Abus’d her delicate youth with drugs or mineralsThat weakens 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:Were it my cue to fight, I should have known itWithout a prompter. Where will you that I goTo answer this your charge?

BRABANTIO.To prison, till fit timeOf law and course of direct sessionCall thee to answer.

OTHELLO.What if I do obey?How may the duke be therewith satisfied,Whose messengers are here about my side,Upon some present business of the state,To bring me to him?

OFFICER.’Tis true, most worthy signior,The duke’s in council, and your noble self,I am sure is sent for.

BRABANTIO.How? The duke in council?In this time of the night? Bring him away;Mine’s not an idle cause. The duke himself,Or any of my brothers of the state,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.]

SCENE III. Venice. A council chamber.

The Duke and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending.

DUKE.There is no composition in these newsThat gives them credit.

FIRST SENATOR.Indeed, they are disproportion’d;My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.

DUKE.And mine a hundred and forty.

SECOND SENATORAnd 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 confirmA Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

DUKE.Nay, it is possible enough to judgement:I do not so secure me in the error,But the main article I do approveIn fearful sense.

SAILOR.[Within.] What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!

OFFICER.A messenger from the galleys.

Enter Sailor.

DUKE.Now,—what’s the business?

SAILOR.The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes,So was I bid report here to the stateBy Signior Angelo.

DUKE.How say you by this change?

FIRST SENATOR.This cannot beBy no assay of reason. ’Tis a pageantTo keep us in false gaze. When we considerThe importancy of Cyprus to the Turk;And let ourselves again but understandThat, 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 abilitiesThat Rhodes is dress’d in. If we make thought of this,We must not think the Turk is so unskilfulTo leave that latest which concerns him first,Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,To wake and wage a danger profitless.

DUKE.Nay, in all confidence, he’s not for Rhodes.

OFFICER.Here is more news.

Enter a Messenger.

MESSENGER.The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes,Have there injointed them with an after fleet.

FIRST SENATOR.Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?

MESSENGER.Of thirty sail, and now they do re-stemTheir backward course, bearing with frank appearanceTheir purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,Your trusty and most valiant servitor,With his free duty recommends you thus,And prays you to believe him.

DUKE.’Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?

FIRST SENATOR.He’s now in Florence.

DUKE.Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch.

FIRST SENATOR.