Othello, Act 1, Scene 3

Duke

There is no composition in these newsThat gives them credit.

These reports don't agree enough to make them believable.

First Senator

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

They certainly differ. My letters report a hundred and seven warships.

Duke

And mine a hundred and forty.

And mine a hundred and forty.

Second Senator

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 confirmA Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

And mine two hundred. But though they don't agree on an exact number—as often happens when reports are based on estimates—they all confirm that a Turkish fleet is heading for 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.

Yes, it seems quite possible. The differences in the numbers give me no comfort; I accept the main point of the reports, and it frightens me.

Sailor (within)

What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!

[From offstage.] Hello! Hello! Hello!

Officer

A messenger from the galleys.

A messenger from the warships.

Duke

Now,—what’s the business?

Well, what is the news?

Sailor

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

The Turkish forces are heading for Rhodes. Signior Angelo ordered me to report this here to the government.

Duke

How say you by this change?

What do you make of 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.

No reasonable examination supports this. It is a show meant to make us look in the wrong direction. Consider how important Cyprus is to the Turks. Remember, too, that not only is it more valuable to them than Rhodes, but they can also take it much more easily. It is not nearly as well prepared for war and completely lacks the defenses Rhodes has. If we consider this, we cannot think the Turks are so incompetent that they would put their greatest concern last, passing up an easy and profitable attack to take on a dangerous struggle with nothing to gain.

Duke

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

No, I am completely certain he is not heading for Rhodes.

Officer

Here is more news.

Here is more news.

Messenger

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

Honored and gracious gentlemen, the Ottomans, sailing directly toward the island of Rhodes, have joined up there with a second fleet that followed them.

First Senator

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

Yes, just as I thought. About how many ships?

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.

Thirty ships. Now they have turned back, making it perfectly clear that they intend to attack Cyprus. Signior Montano, your faithful and very brave servant, sends you this report out of willing devotion to his duty and asks you to believe him.

Duke

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

Then it is certainly Cyprus. Isn't Marcus Luccicos in town?

First Senator

He’s now in Florence.

He is in Florence now.

Duke

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

Write to him in our name. Send it with the greatest possible speed.

First Senator

Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

Here come Brabantio and the brave Moor.

Duke

Valiant Othello, we must straight employ youAgainst the general enemy Ottoman.[To Brabantio.] I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior,We lack’d your counsel and your help tonight.

Brave Othello, we must send you at once against our common enemy, the Ottoman. [To Brabantio.] I did not see you. Welcome, good sir. We have missed your advice and help tonight.

Brabantio

So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me.Neither my place, nor aught I heard of businessHath rais’d me from my bed, nor doth the general careTake hold on me; for my particular griefIs of so flood-gate and o’erbearing natureThat it engluts and swallows other sorrows,And it is still itself.

And I have needed yours. Your Grace, please forgive me. Neither my official duties nor any news of state affairs has brought me out of bed. Nor do our common troubles concern me now. My private grief is such an overwhelming flood that it swallows every other sorrow, yet remains as great as ever.

Duke

Why, what’s the matter?

Why, what is wrong?

Brabantio

My daughter! O, my daughter!

My daughter! Oh, my daughter!

Duke and Senators

Dead?

Dead?

Brabantio

Ay, to me.She is abused, stol’n from me, and corruptedBy spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;For nature so preposterously to err,Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,Sans witchcraft could not.

Yes, to me.
She has been deceived, stolen from me, and corrupted by spells and drugs bought from swindlers. Without witchcraft, her nature could not go so outrageously wrong—not when her senses are neither defective, blind, nor impaired.

Duke

Whoe’er he be, that in this foul proceeding,Hath thus beguil’d your daughter of herself,And you of her, the bloody book of lawYou shall yourself read in the bitter letter,After your own sense, yea, though our proper sonStood in your action.

Whoever has committed this foul act, robbing your daughter of her reason and you of her, you may apply the harshest penalties of the law yourself, interpreting it as strictly as you wish, even if the accused were our own son.

Brabantio

Humbly I thank your grace.Here is the man, this Moor, whom now it seemsYour special mandate for the state affairsHath hither brought.

I humbly thank Your Grace. Here is the man, this Moor, whom your special order on state business has apparently brought here.

All

We are very sorry for ’t.

We are very sorry to hear it.

Duke (to Othello)

What, in your own part, can you say to this?

What can you say in your defense?

Brabantio

Nothing, but this is so.

Nothing except that it is true.

Othello

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,My very noble and approv’d good masters:That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter,It is most true; true, I have married her.The very head and front of my offendingHath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace;For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith,Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us’dTheir dearest action 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 causeIn speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,I will a round unvarnish’d tale deliverOf 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.

Most powerful, wise, and honored gentlemen, my noble and trusted masters: it is absolutely true that I have taken this old man's daughter. It is true that I have married her. That is the full extent of my offense, nothing more. I am rough in my speech and have little skill with the smooth language of peacetime. From the time these arms had the strength of a seven-year-old until about nine months ago, their hardest work has been on the battlefield. I can speak of little in this great world except fighting and war, so speaking for myself will do little to improve my case. Still, with your kind permission, I will tell you a straightforward, plain account of my entire courtship: what drugs, what spells, what invocations of spirits, and what powerful magic I used to win his daughter, since these are the things I am accused of.

Brabantio

A maiden never bold:Of spirit so still and quiet that her motionBlush’d at herself; and she, in spite of nature,Of years, of country, credit, everything,To fall in love with what she fear’d to look on!It is judgement maim’d and most imperfectThat will confess perfection so could errAgainst all rules of nature, and must be drivenTo find out practices of cunning hell,Why this should be. I therefore vouch again,That with some mixtures powerful o’er the blood,Or with some dram conjur’d to this effect,He wrought upon her.

A girl who was never bold, so quiet and gentle that she blushed at her own movements! And she, against her nature, her age, her country, her reputation, everything, would fall in love with someone she was afraid to look at! Only crippled and deeply flawed judgment could accept that such perfection could make a mistake against all the laws of nature. We must look to the tricks of a cunning hell to explain it. So I declare again that he worked on her with mixtures powerful enough to affect her blood, or some dose enchanted for this purpose.

Duke

To vouch this is no proof;Without more wider and more overt testThan these thin habits and poor likelihoodsOf modern seeming do prefer against him.

Declaring it is not proof. We need fuller and clearer evidence than these flimsy appearances and weak suggestions of ordinary events that you bring against him.

First Senator

But, Othello, speak:Did you by indirect and forced coursesSubdue and poison this young maid’s affections?Or came it by request, and such fair questionAs soul to soul affordeth?

But speak, Othello. Did you use dishonest and forceful methods to overpower and poison this young woman's feelings? Or did you win her by asking, with the honest conversation one soul offers another?

Othello

I do beseech you,Send for the lady to the Sagittary,And let her speak of me before her father.If you do find me foul in her report,The trust, the office I do hold of you,Not only take away, but let your sentenceEven fall upon my life.

Please, send for the lady at the Sagittary and let her speak about me in front of her father. If her account shows that I have acted dishonorably, do not merely take away the trust and position you have given me. Let your sentence take my life as well.

Duke

Fetch Desdemona hither.

Bring Desdemona here.

Othello

Ancient, conduct them, you best know the place.

Standard-bearer, guide them. You know the place best.

Duke

Say it, Othello.

Tell us, Othello.

Othello

Her father lov’d me, oft invited me,Still question’d me the story of my life,From year to year—the battles, sieges, fortunes,That I have pass’d.I ran it through, even from my boyish daysTo the very moment that he bade me tell it,Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,Of moving accidents by flood and field;Of hair-breadth scapes i’ th’ imminent deadly breach;Of being taken by the insolent foe,And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence,And portance in my traveler’s history,Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,It was my hint to speak,—such was the process;And of the Cannibals that each other eat,The Anthropophagi, and men whose headsDo grow beneath their shoulders. This to hearWould Desdemona seriously incline.But still the house affairs would draw her thence,Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,She’d come again, and with a greedy earDevour up my discourse; which I observing,Took once a pliant hour, and found good meansTo draw from her a prayer of earnest heartThat I would all my pilgrimage dilate,Whereof by parcels she had something heard,But not intentively. I did consent,And often did beguile her of her tears,When I did speak of some distressful strokeThat my youth suffer’d. My story being done,She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.She swore, in faith, ’twas strange, ’twas passing strange;’Twas pitiful, ’twas wondrous pitiful.She wish’d she had not heard it, yet she wish’dThat heaven had made her such a man: she thank’d me,And bade me, if I had a friend that lov’d her,I should but teach him how to tell my story,And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:She lov’d me for the dangers I had pass’d,And I lov’d her that she did pity them.This only is the witchcraft I have us’d.Here comes the lady. Let her witness it.

Her father liked me and often invited me over. He kept asking me for the story of my life, year by year: the battles, sieges, and changes of fortune I had experienced. I told it all, from my boyhood to the very moment he asked me to tell it. I spoke of terrible disasters, of stirring events at sea and on land, of narrow escapes from death while storming a breach in a wall, of being captured by a ruthless enemy and sold into slavery, of my release, and of my experiences during my travels. My story led me to speak of vast caves and empty deserts, rugged stone pits, rocks, and hills whose peaks touch the sky. That was how the story went. I also spoke of the Cannibals who eat one another, the Anthropophagi, and men whose heads grow below their shoulders. Desdemona was deeply eager to hear all this. But household duties kept drawing her away. Whenever she could finish them quickly, she would return and eagerly drink in my story. Noticing this, I chose a convenient moment and found a way to draw from her a heartfelt request that I tell her the whole story of my travels. She had heard parts of it, but never had the chance to listen closely throughout. I agreed, and often brought her to tears when I described some painful misfortune I had suffered in my youth. When my story was finished, she rewarded my efforts with countless sighs.
She swore it was truly strange, extraordinarily strange; it was sad, wonderfully sad. She wished she had not heard it, yet wished heaven had made a man like me for her. She thanked me and told me that if I had a friend who loved her, I only needed to teach him to tell my story, and that would win her. I took the hint and spoke. She loved me for the dangers I had survived, and I loved her for the pity she felt for them. This is the only witchcraft I have used. Here comes the lady. Let her confirm it.

Duke

I think this tale would win my daughter too.Good Brabantio,Take up this mangled matter at the best.Men do their broken weapons rather useThan their bare hands.

I think this story would win my daughter too. Good Brabantio, make the best you can of this damaged situation. Men would rather fight with broken weapons than with their bare hands.

Brabantio

I pray you hear her speak.If she confess that she was half the wooer,Destruction on my head, if my bad blameLight on the man!—Come hither, gentle mistress:Do you perceive in all this noble companyWhere most you owe obedience?

Please hear her speak. If she admits that she did half the courting, may destruction fall on my head if I unfairly blame this man! Come here, young lady. Among all these noble people, can you see whom you owe the most obedience to?

Desdemona

My noble father,I do perceive here a divided duty:To you I am bound for life and education.My life and education both do learn meHow to respect you. You are the lord of duty,I am hitherto your daughter: but here’s my husband.And so much duty as my mother show’dTo you, preferring you before her father,So much I challenge that I may professDue to the Moor my lord.

My noble father, I see that my duty here is divided. I owe you my life and my upbringing. Both my life and my upbringing teach me to respect you. You have the right to my obedience, and until now I have been your daughter. But here is my husband. My mother showed you her duty by putting you before her father. I claim the right to show that same duty to the Moor, my husband.

Brabantio

God be with you! I have done.Please it your grace, on to the state affairs.I had rather to adopt a child than get it.—Come hither, Moor:I here do give thee that with all my heartWhich, but thou hast already, with all my heartI would keep from thee.—For your sake, jewel,I am glad at soul I have no other child,For thy escape would teach me tyranny,To hang clogs on them.—I have done, my lord.

God be with you! I am finished.
Your Grace, please turn to the affairs of state. I would rather adopt a child than father one. Come here, Moor. With all my heart I give you what, if you did not already have it, I would with all my heart keep from you. For your sake, my jewel, I am deeply glad I have no other child. Your running away would teach me to be a tyrant and chain the others down. I am finished, my lord.

Duke

Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence,Which as a grise or step may help these loversInto your favour.When remedies are past, the griefs are endedBy seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.To mourn a mischief that is past and goneIs the next way to draw new mischief on.What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,Patience her injury a mockery makes.The robb’d that smiles steals something from the thief;He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

Let me speak as you might, and offer a wise saying that may serve as a step to help these lovers regain your favor.
When nothing can be done, grief ends by accepting the worst instead of clinging to hope. Mourning a misfortune that is past and gone is the surest way to bring on more trouble. When fortune takes what we cannot keep, patience makes its injury powerless. A robbed man who smiles steals something back from the thief; a man who wastes himself in useless grief robs himself.

Brabantio

So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile,We lose it not so long as we can smile;He bears the sentence well, that nothing bearsBut the free comfort which from thence he hears;But he bears both the sentence and the sorrowThat, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.These sentences to sugar or to gall,Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:But words are words; I never yet did hearThat the bruis’d heart was pierced through the ear.I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.

Then let the Turks cheat us out of Cyprus. As long as we can smile, we have lost nothing. A man can easily bear wise advice when all he bears is the free comfort he gets from hearing it. But the man who must borrow from his meager patience to pay for his grief bears both the advice and the sorrow. These sayings can sweeten or embitter things, and since they argue equally well on either side, they prove nothing. But words are only words. I have never heard that a wounded heart was healed through the ears. I humbly ask you to proceed to the affairs of state.

Duke

The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you. And though we have there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice on you: you must therefore be content to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.

The Turks are heading for Cyprus with an extremely powerful force. Othello, you know its defenses best. Although we have a deputy there whose ability is widely respected, public opinion, which has great power over events, places more confidence in you. You must therefore agree to dull the shine of your new happiness with this rough and demanding campaign.

Othello

The tyrant custom, most grave senators,Hath made the flinty and steel couch of warMy thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnizeA natural and prompt alacrityI find in hardness, and do undertakeThis present wars against the Ottomites.Most humbly, therefore, bending to your state,I crave fit disposition for my wife,Due reference of place and exhibition,With such accommodation and besortAs levels with her breeding.

Most honored senators, habit is a powerful master. It has made the hard bed of war feel to me like the softest feather bed. I admit that I find a natural, ready enthusiasm in hardship, and I accept this war against the Ottomans. Therefore, humbly submitting to your authority, I ask you to make suitable arrangements for my wife: a proper place to live and financial support, with accommodations and company that match her upbringing.

Duke

If you please,Be’t at her father’s.

If you agree, she can stay at her father's.

Brabantio

I’ll not have it so.

I will not allow that.

Othello

Nor I.

Neither will I.

Desdemona

Nor I. I would not there reside,To put my father in impatient thoughts,By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear,And let me find a charter in your voiceT’ assist my simpleness.

Neither will I. I would not live there and upset my father by constantly being in his sight. Most gracious Duke, please listen favorably as I explain my wishes, and let your approval give authority to my simple request.

Duke

What would you, Desdemona?

What do you want, Desdemona?

Desdemona

That I did love the Moor to live with him,My downright violence and storm of fortunesMay trumpet to the world: my heart’s subduedEven to the very quality of my lord.I saw Othello’s visage in his mind,And to his honours and his valiant partsDid I my soul and fortunes consecrate.So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,A moth of peace, and he go to the war,The rites for which I love him are bereft me,And I a heavy interim shall supportBy his dear absence. Let me go with him.

My bold defiance and the upheaval in my life proclaim to the world that I loved the Moor because I wanted to live with him. My heart is devoted to the very nature of my lord. I saw Othello's true face in his mind, and I dedicated my soul and fortunes to his honor and his courage. So, dear lords, if I am left behind, a useless creature of peace, while he goes to war, I will be denied the married life for which I love him. I will have to endure a sorrowful stretch of time without my beloved husband. Let me go with him.

Othello

Let her have your voice.Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it notTo please the palate of my appetite,Nor to comply with heat, the young affectsIn me defunct, and proper satisfaction,But to be free and bounteous to her mind.And heaven defend your good souls that you thinkI will your serious and great business scantFor she is with me. No, when light-wing’d toysOf feather’d Cupid seel with wanton dullnessMy speculative and offic’d instruments,That my disports corrupt and taint my business,Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,And all indign and base adversitiesMake head against my estimation.

Please give her your approval. Heaven is my witness that I do not ask this to satisfy my appetite or indulge sexual heat—the passions of youth are dead in me—or for my own pleasure, but to be generous and give her what she wishes. And heaven keep you good people from thinking I will neglect your great and serious business because she is with me. No, if Cupid's frivolous pleasures ever blind my judgment and dull my abilities as an officer, so that my amusements spoil and damage my work, let housewives turn my helmet into a frying pan, and let every shameful, degrading misfortune rise up against my reputation.

Duke

Be it as you shall privately determine,Either for her stay or going. The affair cries haste,And speed must answer it.

Whether she stays or goes is for you to decide between yourselves. This business demands haste, and we must act quickly.

First Senator

You must away tonight.

You must leave tonight.

Othello

With all my heart.

With all my heart.

Duke

At nine i’ the morning here we’ll meet again.Othello, leave some officer behind,And he shall our commission bring to you,With such things else of quality and respectAs doth import you.

We will meet here again at nine in the morning. Othello, leave an officer behind to bring you our official orders, along with anything else important that concerns you.

Othello

So please your grace, my ancient,A man he is of honesty and trust,To his conveyance I assign my wife,With what else needful your good grace shall thinkTo be sent after me.

With your permission, Your Grace, I will leave my standard-bearer, a man of honesty and trust. I entrust my wife to him for the journey, along with whatever else Your Grace thinks should be sent after me.

Duke

Let it be so.Good night to everyone. [To Brabantio.] And, noble signior,If virtue no delighted beauty lack,Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

Let that be the arrangement. Good night to everyone. [To Brabantio.] And, noble sir, if goodness always brings a pleasing beauty, your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

First Senator

Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.

Goodbye, brave Moor. Treat Desdemona well.

Brabantio

Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:She has deceiv’d her father, and may thee.

Watch her, Moor, if you have eyes to see. She has deceived her father and may deceive you.

Othello

My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,My Desdemona must I leave to thee.I prithee, let thy wife attend on her,And bring them after in the best advantage.—Come, Desdemona, I have but an hourOf love, of worldly matters, and direction,To spend with thee. We must obey the time.

I would stake my life on her faithfulness! Honest Iago, I must leave my Desdemona in your care. Please have your wife attend to her, and bring them both after me at the best opportunity. Come, Desdemona, I have only an hour to spend with you on love, practical matters, and instructions. We must fit ourselves to the time we have.

Roderigo

Iago—

Iago—

Iago

What sayst thou, noble heart?

What is it, my noble friend?

Roderigo

What will I do, thinkest thou?

What do you think I will do?

Iago

Why, go to bed and sleep.

Why, go to bed and sleep.

Roderigo

I will incontinently drown myself.

I am going to drown myself immediately.

Iago

If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou silly gentleman!

If you do, I will never love you again. Why, you foolish gentleman!

Roderigo

It is silliness to live, when to live is torment; and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

It is foolish to live when living is torture. And when death is our doctor, we have a prescription to die.

Iago

O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four times seven years, and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.

What disgusting nonsense! I have watched the world for four times seven years, and ever since I could tell the difference between a kindness and an injury, I have never found a man who knew how to love himself. Before I would say I would drown myself for love of some little chick, I would trade my human nature for a baboon's.

Roderigo

What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it.

What should I do? I admit it is shameful to be so foolishly in love, but I do not have the strength to change it.

Iago

Virtue! a fig! ’Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners. So that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions. But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this, that you call love, to be a sect, or scion.

Virtue! Nonsense! We have the power to make ourselves one thing or another. Our bodies are gardens, and our wills are the gardeners. Whether we plant nettles or sow lettuce, plant hyssop and pull up thyme, fill the garden with one kind of herb or divide it among many, leave it barren through laziness or cultivate it through hard work—the power to control and change all this lies in our wills. If the scales of our lives did not have reason on one side to balance physical desire on the other, our hot blood and base instincts would lead us to the most outrageous results. But we have reason to cool our raging impulses, our sexual urges, and our uncontrolled lusts. What you call love is, in my opinion, just one variety or offshoot of those desires.

Roderigo

It cannot be.

That cannot be.

Iago

It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor,—put money in thy purse,—nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration—put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills. Fill thy purse with money. The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts shall be to him shortly as acerb as the coloquintida. She must change for youth. When she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice. She must have change, she must. Therefore put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! It is clean out of the way: seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her.

It is nothing but bodily lust with the will's permission. Come on, be a man. Drown yourself? Drown cats and blind puppies instead. I have declared myself your friend, and I admit I am tied to your worthy self by ropes of lasting strength. I could never be of greater help to you than now. Put money in your purse. Follow the army. Disguise your face with a false beard. I say, put money in your purse. Desdemona cannot keep loving the Moor for long—put money in your purse—and he cannot keep loving her. It began violently, and you will see an equally violent separation. Just put money in your purse. These Moors are changeable in their desires. Fill your purse with money. The food that now tastes as sweet to him as carob pods will soon taste as bitter as a bitter gourd. She will have to turn to a younger man. When she has had enough of his body, she will see the mistake she made in choosing him. She must have a change; she must. So put money in your purse. If you insist on damning yourself, do it in a more pleasurable way than drowning. Raise all the money you can. Unless a holy ceremony and a flimsy vow between a wandering barbarian and an extremely cunning Venetian woman are too much for my wits and all the forces of hell, you will have her. So raise money. To hell with drowning yourself! It is completely beside the point. Better to risk hanging while pursuing your pleasure than to drown and never have her.

Roderigo

Wilt thou be fast to my hopes if I depend on the issue?

Will you stand firmly behind my hopes if I put my trust in the outcome?

Iago

Thou art sure of me. Go, make money. I have told thee often, and I retell thee again and again, I hate the Moor. My cause is hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered. Traverse, go, provide thy money. We will have more of this tomorrow. Adieu.

You can count on me. Go and get money. I've told you often, and I'll tell you again and again: I hate the Moor. My hatred comes from the heart; yours has just as much reason behind it. Let's join forces in taking revenge on him. If you can sleep with his wife, you'll give yourself pleasure and me amusement. Time has many events in store that have yet to unfold. Get moving, go and get your money. We'll talk more about this tomorrow. Goodbye.

Roderigo

Where shall we meet i’ the morning?

Where shall we meet in the morning?

Iago

At my lodging.

Where I'm staying.

Roderigo

I’ll be with thee betimes.

I'll be there early.

Iago

Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

Go on, goodbye. Are you listening, Roderigo?

Roderigo

What say you?

What is it?

Iago

No more of drowning, do you hear?

No more talk of drowning yourself, do you hear?

Roderigo

I am changed. I’ll sell all my land.

I've changed my mind. I'll sell all my land.

Iago

Thus do I ever make my fool my purse.For I mine own gain’d knowledge should profaneIf I would time expend with such a snipeBut for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor,And it is thought abroad that ’twixt my sheetsHe has done my office. I know not if ’t be true,But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,Will do as if for surety. He holds me well,The better shall my purpose work on him.Cassio’s a proper man. Let me see now,To get his place, and to plume up my willIn double knavery. How, how? Let’s see.After some time, to abuse Othello’s earThat he is too familiar with his wife.He hath a person and a smooth dispose,To be suspected, fram’d to make women false.The Moor is of a free and open natureThat thinks men honest that but seem to be so,And will as tenderly be led by the noseAs asses are.I have’t. It is engender’d. Hell and nightMust bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light.

This is how I always make my fool supply my money. I'd be wasting everything I've learned if I spent time with such an idiot except for my own amusement and profit. I hate the Moor, and there's a rumor going around that he's taken my place in my bed. I don't know whether it's true, but that suspicion alone is enough for me to act as though it were certain. He thinks well of me, which will make my plan work all the better against him.
Cassio is a handsome man. Now, let's see how I can get his position and gratify my desires with a double piece of treachery. How? How? Let's see. After a while, I'll trick Othello by telling him Cassio is too intimate with his wife. Cassio has the looks and smooth manners to arouse suspicion, the kind that tempt women to betray their husbands. The Moor has a trusting, open nature. He thinks men are honest if they only seem honest, and he'll be led by the nose as easily as a donkey.
I've got it. The plan is conceived. Hell and darkness must bring this monstrous child into the light of the world.