THE STATIONER TO THE READER.* To set forth a book without an epistle were like to the old English proverb, A blue coat without a badge; and the author being dead, I thought good to take that piece of work upon me. To commend it, I will not; for that which is good I hope every man will commend without entreaty'; and I am the bolder because the author's name is sufficient to vent his work. Thus leaving every one to the liberty of judgment, I have ventured to print this play, and leave it to the general censure. Yours, THOMAS WALKLEY. * Prefixed to the quarto 1622. DRAMATIS PERSONE. DUKE OF VENICE. BRABANTIO, a senator. Other Senators. GRATIANO, brother to Brabantio. LODOVICO, kinsman to Brabantio. OTHELLO, a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state. CASSIO, his lieutenant. IAGO, his ancient. RODERIGO, a Venetian gentleman. MONTANO, Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus. Clown, servant to Othello. DESDEMONA, daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello. EMILIA, wife to Iago. BIANCA, mistress to Cassio. Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and Attendants. SCENE-The first act in Venice; during the rest of the play, at a seaport in Cyprus. OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. ACT I. SCENE I. Venice. A street. Enter RODERIGO and IAGO. Rod. Never tell me; I take it much unkindly As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this,— If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me. Rod. Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. 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 :- And, in conclusion, Nonsuits my mediators; for, "Certes, "(2) 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; More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practice, And I (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's ancient. Rod. 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 second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, To love the Moor. Rod. I would not follow him, then. Iago. O, sir, content you; him: I follow him to serve my turn upon For naught but provender; and, when he's old, cashier'd: 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: |