Уильям Шекспир: Othello, the Moor of Venice

What would you, Desdemona?

That I did love the Moor to live with him,
My downright violence and storm of fortunes
May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdu'd
Even to the very quality of my lord:
I saw Othello's visage in his mind;
And to his honors and his valiant parts
Did 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 support
By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

Let her have your voices.
Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not
To please the palate of my appetite;
Nor to comply with heat, – the young affects
In me defunct, – and proper satisfaction;
But to be free and bounteous to her mind:
And heaven defend your good souls, that you think
I will your serious and great business scant
For she is with me: no, when light-wing'd toys
Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dullness
My 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 adversities
Make head against my estimation!

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

You must away to-night.

With all my heart.

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 respect
As doth import you.

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 think
To be sent after me.

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.

Adieu, brave Moor; use Desdemona well.

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

My life upon her faith! – Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee:
I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her;
And bring them after in the best advantage. —
Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
To spend with thee: we must obey the time.

Iago, —

What say'st thou, noble heart?

What will I do, thinkest thou?

Why, go to bed and sleep.

I will incontinently drown myself.

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

It cannot be.

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

Where shall we meet i' the morning?

At my lodging.

I'll be with thee betimes.

Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

What say you?

No more of drowning, do you hear?

I am changed: I'll go sell all my land.

Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane
If I would time expend with such a snipe
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor;
And it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets
He 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 will
In double knavery, – How, how? – Let's see: —
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear
That 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 nature,
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so;
And will as tenderly be led by the nose
As asses are.
I have't; – it is engender'd: – hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.