Othello, Act 1, Scene 1

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.

Oh, don’t tell me that! I deeply resent it, Iago, that you knew about this when you’ve been spending my money as freely as if it were your own.

Iago

’Sblood, but you will not hear me.If ever I did dream of such a matter,Abhor me.

Damn it, you won’t listen to me. If I ever even dreamed of such a thing, hate me.

Roderigo

Thou told’st me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.

You told me you hated him.

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.

Despise me if I don’t. Three important men in the city personally asked him to make me his lieutenant. They took their hats off to him, and, I swear, I know my own worth. I deserve no lower rank. But he, devoted to his own pride and plans, dodges their request with a pompous speech, horribly stuffed with military terms. And in the end, he turns down the men speaking for me. “Certainly,” he says, “I’ve already chosen my officer.”
And who was it? Why, a great expert at arithmetic, one Michael Cassio, a Florentine, a fellow nearly ruined by a pretty wife. He’s never led a squadron into battle and knows no more about arranging troops than a woman spinning thread—except for theories from books, which politicians in robes can explain as expertly as he can. All his military knowledge is talk without experience. But he, sir, got the appointment. And I, whose skill Othello himself has seen at Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other battlefields, Christian and non-Christian, must be left stranded behind this bookkeeper, this bean counter. He, of course, must be his lieutenant, while I, God help us, carry the flag for His Moorish Highness.

Roderigo

By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.

By heaven, I’d rather have been his executioner.

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.

Well, there’s nothing to be done. That’s the curse of serving others. Promotions depend on recommendations and favoritism, not the old order of seniority, where the second in command succeeded the first. Now, sir, judge for yourself whether I have any good reason to love the Moor.

Roderigo

I would not follow him, then.

Then I wouldn’t serve him.

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.

Oh, sir, don’t worry. I serve him to use him for my own purposes. We can’t all be masters, and not all masters can have truly loyal followers. You’ll see many obedient, bowing fools who love their own servitude. They wear out their lives, just like their master’s donkey, for nothing but food, and when they’re old, they’re dismissed. Those faithful fools deserve a whipping. Others put on the appearance and expression of duty but remain devoted only to themselves. By merely pretending to serve their masters, they prosper, and once they’ve lined their pockets, they pay respect to themselves. Those fellows have some spirit, and I declare I’m one of them. For, sir, as surely as you are Roderigo, if I were the Moor, I wouldn’t want Iago serving me. In serving him, I serve only myself. Heaven is my witness: I don’t do it out of love and duty. I only appear to, for my own private ends. If my outward behavior ever reveals my heart’s true feelings through an open show of courtesy, I might as well wear my heart on my sleeve for birds to peck at. I am not what I seem.

Roderigo

What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,If he can carry’t thus!

What tremendous luck that thick-lipped man has if he can pull this off!

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.

Call up her father. Wake him, pursue the Moor, poison his pleasure. Shout about him in the streets; stir up her relatives. Even if he lives in a paradise, torment him with flies. Though his happiness is real, plague it with so many different troubles that it loses some of its brightness.

Roderigo

Here is her father’s house, I’ll call aloud.

Here’s her father’s house. I’ll shout.

Iago

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

Do, with the same terrified voice and dreadful cries people use when they discover a fire caused by carelessness at night in a crowded city.

Roderigo

What ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!

Hey, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio! Hey!

Iago

Awake! what ho, Brabantio! Thieves, thieves!Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags!Thieves, thieves!

Wake up! Hey, Brabantio! Thieves! Thieves! Look to your house, your daughter, and your money! Thieves! Thieves!

Brabantio

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

Why are you waking me with this terrible shouting? What’s the matter down there?

Roderigo

Signior, is all your family within?

Sir, is everyone in your family inside?

Iago

Are your doors locked?

Are your doors locked?

Brabantio

Why, wherefore ask you this?

Why? Why are you asking?

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.

Damn it, sir, you’ve been robbed! For shame, put on your robe! Your heart is torn apart; you’ve lost half your soul. Right now, this very moment, an old black ram is screwing your white ewe. Get up, get up! Ring the bell to wake the snoring citizens, or the devil will make you a grandfather. Get up, I tell you!

Brabantio

What, have you lost your wits?

What, have you lost your minds?

Roderigo

Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?

Most respected sir, do you recognize my voice?

Brabantio

Not I. What are you?

No, I don’t. Who are you?

Roderigo

My name is 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.

Then you’re even less welcome. I’ve ordered you not to hang around my door. You’ve heard me tell you plainly and honestly that my daughter is not for you. And now, stuffed with supper and maddened by drink, you come here in a fit of spiteful arrogance to disturb my peace.

Roderigo

Sir, sir, sir,—

Sir, sir, sir—

Brabantio

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

But you can be sure that my determination and my position give me the power to make you regret this.

Roderigo

Patience, good sir.

Please be patient, good sir.

Brabantio

What tell’st thou me of robbing?This is Venice. My house is not a grange.

What’s this you’re telling me about robbery? This is Venice. My house isn’t some isolated farmhouse.

Roderigo

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

Most respected Brabantio, I come to you with honest and innocent intentions.

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.

Damn it, sir, you’re one of those people who wouldn’t serve God if the devil told you to. Because we come to help you, and you think we’re thugs, you’ll let your daughter be mounted by a horse from Barbary. You’ll have grandsons neighing at you, racehorses for cousins, and little horses for close relatives.

Brabantio

What profane wretch art thou?

What foul-mouthed scoundrel are you?

Iago

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

I’m someone, sir, who comes to tell you that your daughter and the Moor are now humping like animals.

Brabantio

Thou art a villain.

You’re a villain.

Iago

You are a senator.

You’re a senator.

Brabantio

This thou shalt answer. I know thee, Roderigo.

You’ll answer for this. I know you, 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.

Sir, I’ll answer for anything. But please, if you willingly and wisely consented—as I partly gather you did—to your beautiful daughter being taken at this strange, sleepy hour of the night, with no better or worse escort than a hired fellow, a gondolier, into the lustful embrace of a lecherous Moor; if you know about this and approve, then we’ve wronged you with our boldness and disrespect. But if you don’t know about it, my sense of proper behavior tells me you’ve scolded us unfairly. Don’t believe I’d forget all courtesy and play such a thoughtless trick on someone so respected. Your daughter, unless you gave her permission, has, I repeat, disgracefully rebelled. She has tied her loyalty, beauty, intelligence, and fortune to a wandering, rootless stranger from here, there, and everywhere. Find out for yourself right now. If she’s in her room or anywhere in your house, turn the full force of the law against me for misleading you like this.

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!

Strike a spark! Hey! Give me a candle! Wake all my servants! This event is much like my dream, and already the thought that it’s true weighs on me. A light, I say! A light!

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.

Goodbye, for I must leave you. It wouldn’t be proper or good for my position to appear as a witness against the Moor, as I will if I stay. I know the government can’t safely dismiss him, however much this may trouble him with some reprimand. He’s committed to the war in Cyprus, which is already underway, for such compelling reasons that they couldn’t, for their lives, find another man of his ability to lead their forces. Because of that, though I hate him as much as the torments of hell, the needs of my present situation force me to display signs of love—which are only signs. To make sure you find him, lead the search party you raise to the Sagittary, and I’ll be there with him. So, goodbye.

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?

The terrible news is all too true. She’s gone, and nothing but bitterness remains for the rest of my despised life. Now, Roderigo, where did you see her? (Oh, miserable girl!) With the Moor, you say? (Who would want to be a father!) How did you know it was her? (Oh, she’s deceived me beyond anything I could imagine.) What did she say to you? Get more candles. Wake all my relatives. Do you think they’re married?

Roderigo

Truly I think they are.

I honestly 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?

Oh, heaven! How did she get out? Oh, betrayal by my own flesh and blood! Fathers, from now on, don't judge your daughters' thoughts by how you see them behave. Aren't there spells that can corrupt the nature of a young virgin? Haven't you read about something like that, Roderigo?

Roderigo

Yes, sir, I have indeed.

Yes, sir, I certainly have.

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?

Wake my brother. Oh, I wish you had married her! Some of you go one way, some another. Do you know where we can arrest her and the Moor?

Roderigo

I think I can discover him, if you pleaseTo get good guard, and go along with me.

I think I can find him, if you will gather a strong guard and come 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.

Please lead the way. I'll call at every house; at most of them I have the authority to demand help. Get weapons! Wake some of the officers assigned to night duty. Lead on, good Roderigo. I'll reward you for your trouble.