All language subtitles for Otello.-1955

Mosfilm

Othello
a tragedy by William Shakespeare

written and produced by
Sergej Yutkevich

Cinematography:
Ye. Andrikanis

Music composed by
A. Khatchaturyan

Cast:

Othello: S. Bondarchuk
Iago: A. Popov

Desdemona: I. Skobtseva
Cassio: V. Soshalskij
Rodrigo: Ye. Vesnik
Emilia: A. Maksimova

Engl. subtitles: William Shakespeare

Signior Brabantio, ho!

Awake, signior!

Thieves! Thieves!

Look to your house,
your daughter and your bags!

Thieves! Thieves!

What is the reason of this terrible summons?

Signior, is all your family within?

What are you?
Why, wherefore ask you this?

My name is Roderigo.

The worser welcome:
I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors;

Have I not said my daughter's not for thee?

Sir, you are robbed!
For shame!

Even now an old black ram..

is tupping your white ewe!

What profane wretch art thou?

Thy daughter's even now in the Moor's clasp!

Thou art a villain!

You are - a senator.

This thou shalt answer!

Give me a taper! Call up all my people!

It is too true an evil: gone she is.

I go: I must not be produced
against the Moor.

- Dost thou not hate him?
- Despise me if I do not!

Three great ones sued
to make me his lieutenant,

but, answers he,
"I have already chose my officer."

Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
one Michael Cassio,

that never set a squadron in the field,

nor the division of a battle knows
more than a spinster.

But he, sir, had the election.

Not I, of whom the Moor had seen the proof
at Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds -

no, he, forsooth, must his lieutenant be.

and I - his Moorship's ancient!

Lead to the Sagittary the raised search.

And there will I be with him. So, farewell.

Do you know where we may
apprehend her and the Moor?

So please you, get good guard and go with me.

Pray you, lead on.

On, good Roderigo.
I'll deserve your pains.

Are you fast married, sir?

Her father hath a voice
as double as the duke's.

Well, let him do his spite.

My services which I have done the signiory...

shall out-tongue his complaints.

But look: what lights come yond?

The duke requires your post-haste appearance.

What is the matter, think you?

Something from Cyprus, as I may divine,
it is a business of some heat.

Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you.

Welcome, gentle signor!
We lacked your counsel.

So did I yours, your grace.

- O, my daughter!
- Dead?

Ay, to me. Abused and stol'n from me
by spells and medicines!

Whoe'er he be
hath thus beguiled your daughter,

the bloody book of law
you shall yourself read after your own sense.

Humbly I thank your grace.

Here is the man: this Moor,

whom now, it seems, your special mandate
for the state affairs hath hither brought.

We are sorry for it.

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

I do beseech you,
send for the lady to the Sagittary,

and let her speak of me before her father.

Fetch Desdemona hither.

And, till she come, as truly as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my blood,

so justly to your grave ears I'll present
how I did thrive in this fair lady's love,

and she in mine.

Say it, Othello.

Her father loved me,
oft invited me,

still questioned me the story of my life,
from year to year -

the battles, sieges, fortunes that I have passed.

I ran it through, even from my boyish days
to 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 in the imminent deadly breach;

of being taken by the insolent foe,

and sold to slavery;

of my redemption thence,

and portance in my travels' 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 heads
do grow beneath their shoulders.

This to hear
would Desdemona seriously incline.

The house affairs she would with haste despatch,

she'd come again
and with a greedy ear devour up my discourse,

which I observing, took once a pliant hour,
and drew from her a prayer...

that I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
whereof by parcels she had something heard;

I did consent;

and often did beguile her of her tears,

when I did speak of some distressful stroke
that 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 wished she had not heard it, yet she wished
that heaven had made her such a man:

she thanked me; and bade me,
if I had a friend that loved her,

I should but teach him how to tell my story,
and that would woo her.

Upon this hint I spake.

She loved me for the dangers I had passed,

and I loved her that she did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft I have used.

Here is the lady; let her witness it.

Come hither, gentle mistress:

Where in this company
do most you owe obedience?

My noble father,
to you I am bound for life and education;

But here is my husband.

And so much duty as my mother showed to you,
preferring you before her father,

so much I may profess due
to the Moor, my lord.

God be with you! - I have done.

Please it your grace,
on to the state affairs.

The Turk makes for Cyprus.

Othello, the fortitude of the place
is best known to you.

Therefore be content to slubber the gloss
of your new fortunes with this expedition.

Sir, I did love the Moor to live with him,

and to his honors and his valiant parts
did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.

Let me go with him.

Let her have your voice.

Let it be so.

Brave Moor, use Desdemona well.

She has deceived her father,
and may thee!

O 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 hour to spend with thee;
we must obey the time.

- Iago!
- What say'st thou, noble heart?

I will incontinently drown myself.

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

What should I do?
I confess it is my shame to be so fond,

but it is not in my virtue to amend it.

Put money in thy purse!

Follow thou the wars,

defeat thy favour with an unsurped beard.

Desdemona's love to the Moor
cannot long continue.

Put money in thy purse!

I am changed:

I'll go sell all my land;

But wilt thou be fast to my hopes?

Go, provide thy money.

We will have more of this tomorrow.

Go to; farewell.

Thus do I ever make my fool my purse.

A sail, a sail!

Who has put in?

One Iago, ancient to the general.

Hail to thee, lady!

I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings of my lord?

That he is well and will be shortly here.

O, but I fear - how lost you company?

The great contention of the sea
and skies did part us.

- There's one gone to the harbor?
- Ay, madam.

Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
that I extend my manners.

Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
as I get of her tongue, you'd have enough.

- Alas, she has no speech!
- In faith, too much.

You have little cause to say so.

O, fie upon thee, slanderer!

They give their greeting to the citadel:
this likewise is a friend.

He takes her by the palm.

Ay, well said, whisper:

With as little a web as this
will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio.

Ay, smile upon her, do.

I will give thee in thine own courtship.

The Moor! I know his trumpet.

O my fair warrior!

It gives me wonder,
great as my content,

to see you here before me.

If after every tempest come such calms,

may the winds blow
till they have wakened death!

If it were now to die,
'twere now to be most happy!

Come, let us to the castle.

News, friends; our wars are done,
the Turks are drowned.

If thou be'st valiant, list me.

The lieutenant tonight watches on the court of guard:

First, I must tell thee this -
Desdemona is directly in love with him.

With him! Why, 'tis not possible.

Mark me with what violence
she first loved the Moor,

but for bragging, and telling her fantastical lies:
and will she love him still for prating?

There should be loveliness in favour,

sympathy in years and manners -

all which the Moor is defective in.

Who stands so eminently in the degree
of this fortune as Cassio?

A knave very voluble;
And the woman hath found him already.

I cannot believe that in her;
she is full of most blessed condition.

Didst thou not see her paddle with his hand?

That was but courtesy.

Their lips met so near
that their breaths embraced.

A prologue to the main and master exercise.

Watch you tonight.

I'll not be far from you.

Find some occasion to anger Cassio.

He is rash and sudden in choler,

and haply may strike at you.

Provoke him that he may.

It is the noble Othello's pleasure...

that upon the perdition of the Turkish fleet...

every man put himself into triumph -

some to dance, some to make bonfires,

each man to what revels his addiction leads him.

For besides these beneficial news,

it is the celebration of his nuptial.

I will do this
if I can bring it to any opportunity.

I warrant thee.

Good Michael, look you to the guard tonight.

Iago hath direction what to do.

Iago is most honest.

Come, my dear love.

The purchase made,
the fruits are to ensue.

Good-night.

Come, I've a stoup of wine;

a brace of gallants here
would fain drink to Othello.

No, good Iago;
I have very poor brains for drinking.

But one cup! I'll drink for you.

That Cassio loves her,
I do well believe it.

That she loves him,
'tis apt and of great credit.

The Moor - howbeit that I endure him not -
is of a constant, loving nature,

he'll prove to Desdemona a most dear husband.

Now, I do love her too;
not out of absolute lust,

but partly led to diet my revenge;

for I suspect the lusty Moor hath leaped into my seat,

and nothing shall content me
till I am even'd with him, wife for wife.

Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor into a jealousy
so strong that judgment cannot cure.

Which thing to do,
I will abuse our Cassio to him.

And make the Moor thank me,
love me and reward me...

for making him egregiously an ass,

and practising upon his peace and quiet
even to madness.

'Tis here, but yet confused:
Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.

They have given me a rouse already!

Good faith, a little one, not past a pint.

# [Iago's drinking song]

Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

Do not think I am drunk.

This is my ancient,
this is my right hand,

and this is my left.

I am not drunk now;

I can stand well enough,
and speak well enough.

I fear, the trust Othello puts him in,
on some odd time will shake this island.

- But is he often thus?
- Ay, every night.

You rogue! You rascal!

A knave teach me my duty?

I'll beat the knave...

into a twiggen bottle!

Beat me!

Dost thou prate, rogue?

I pray you, hold your hand.

Let go, sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazard!

- Come, come, you're drunk.
- Drunk!

Nay, good lieutenant!
Help, ho!

Cassio! Signior!

Montano!

What is the matter here?

Hold, for your lives!

Silence that dreadful bell,
it frights the isle.

I bleed ... I am hurt to the death....

My blood begins my safer guides to rule,

the best of you shall sink in my rebuke.

What! in a town of war yet wild,

the people's hearts brimful of fear,

to manage private quarrel in the night?

How comes it, Michael,
you are thus forgot?

I pray you, pardon me;
I cannot speak.

Yet surely Cassio received
some strange indignity.

Thy love doth mince this matter,
making it light to Cassio.

Cassio, I love thee,

but never more be officer of mine.

What, are you hurt?

Ay, past all surgery.

Marry, heaven forbid!

O, I have lost my reputation, Iago!

My reputation!

I thought it were some bodily wound;
that's worse.

What was he
that you followed with your sword?

What had he done to you?

- I know not.
- Is't possible?

I remember a quarrel,
but nothing wherefore.

How came you thus recovered?

I will ask him for my place again,
and he -

he'll tell me I am a drunkard!

Good lieutenant, I love you.

I'll tell you what you shall do.

Our general's wife is now the general.

Confess yourself to her,

and she'll help put you in your place again.

You advise me well.

I protest, in the sincerity of love
and honest kindness.

I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona...

to undertake for me.

Good night, lieutenant.

Good night, honest Iago.

Whiles this honest fool plies Desdemona,

and she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,

I'll pour this pestilence into his ear:

that she repeals him for her body's lust.

And by how much she strives to do him good,

she shall undo her credit with the Moor.

So will I turn her virtue into pitch,

and make a net that shall enmesh them all.

I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,

if I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it.

My lord shall never rest; I'll intermingle...

Everything that he does with Cassio's suit.

Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,

he's never anything but your true servant.

Ha! I like not that.

What dost thou say?

Nothing, my lord:
or if - I know not what.

Here comes my lord.

Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?

No, sure he would not steal away on seeing you.

I do believe 'twas he.

I have been talking with a most unhappy suitor.

Who is't you mean?

Why, your lieutenant, Cassio.

Good my lord,

if I have any grace or power to move you,
his present reconciliation take.

I prithee, call him back.

Not now, Desdemona, some other time.

But shall't be shortly?

The sooner, sweet, for you.

- Tonight at supper?
-No, not tonight.

To-morrow dinner then?

I shall not dine at home;
I meet the captains at the citadel.

Why then to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;
on Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn;

I prythee, name the time;
in faith, he's penitent.

What would you ask of me that I'd deny?

What! Michael Cassio,
that came a-wooing with you,

and that so many a time hath ta'en your part -

to have so much to do to bring him in!

Pr'ythee, no more.
I will deny thee nothing.

Now grant me this:
to leave me but a little.

Shall I deny you? No.

I'll come to thee straight, Desdemona!

Perdition catch my soul,
but I do love thee!

And when I love thee not,

chaos is come again.

- My noble lord ...
- What dost thou say, Iago?

Did Cassio, when you wooed my lady,
know of your love?

He did indeed; why askest thou?

But for a satisfaction of my thought.

Why of thy thought, Iago?

I did not think he had been acquainted with her.

I heard thee say even now,
"I like not that."

What didst not like?

My lord, you know I love you.

I know thou weigh'st thy words ere give them breath.

Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more.

I dare be sworn I think that Cassio's honest.

Perchance, my lord, I am vicious in my guess,

as, I confess, it is my nature's plague

to spy into abuses of jealousy
to shape faults that are not.

What dost thou mean?

Good name in man and woman,
dear my lord,

is the immediate jewel of their souls.

Who steals my purse steals trash;

but he that filches from me my good name..

robs me of that and makes me poor indeed.

By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;

It is the green-ey'd monster which doth mock
the meat it feeds on:

that cuckold lives in bliss who, certain of his fate,
loves not his wronger;

But O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!

Why, why is this?

Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy?

'Tis not to make me jealous,

to say my wife is fair, loves company,

is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well.

Where virtue is, these are more virtuous.

No, Iago; I'll see before I doubt;
when I doubt, prove;

and on the proof there is no more but this:
away at once with love or jealousy!

Now I shall have reason
to show you how I love you.

Look to your wife;
observe her well with Cassio.

What art thou saying?

She did deceive her father, marrying you.

And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks,
she loved them most.

But I am much to blame;
I do beseech your pardon...

for too much loving you.

I am bound to thee for ever.

I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.

Not a jot.
I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

Long live she so, and long live you to think so!

And yet, how nature erring from itself -

Ay, there's the point:

Not to affect many proposed matches,

of her own clime, complexion, and degree,

Whereto we see in all things nature tends,�

Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,

foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural.

Farewell, farewell:

If more thou dost perceive,
let me know more.

Set on thy wife to observe.

Although 'tis fit that Cassio have his place,

yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,

note if your lady strain his entertainment...

with any strong or vehement importunity.

Go now.

This fellow's of exceeding honesty,

And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
of human dealings.

If I do prove her haggard,

I thought that her jesses
were my dear heart-strings,

I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
to prey at fortune.

Ay, I am black,

and have not those soft parts of conversation -

and am declined into the vale of years -

yet not so much.

O curse of marriage,
that we can call these delicate creatures ours,

and not their appetites!

Desdemona comes.

If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!�

I'll not believe't.

Your dinner, and the generous islanders
by you invited, do attend your presence.

I am to blame.

You speak so faintly.
Are you not well?

I have a pain upon my forehead here.

Let me but bind it hard,
within this hour it will be well.

Your napkin is too little.

What do you here alone?

Do not chide; I have a thing for you.

A thing for me? it is a common thing.

A foolish wife!

Is that all?

What will you give me now
for that same handkerchief?

What handkerchief?

That which the Moor first gave Desdemona;

that which so often you did bid me steal.

Hast stol'n it from her?

She let it drop, and I, being there, took't up.

A good wench; give it me.

What will you do with't?

Why, what's that to you?

Give't me again;

poor lady, she'll run mad
when she'll lack it.

I have use for it. Go, leave me.

I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin

and let him find it.

The Moor already changes with my poison.

Dangerous conceits are poisons...

which, with a little act upon the blood,

burn like the mines of sulphur.

I did say so.

Avaunt! Be gone!
Thou hast set me on the rack.

My noble lord -

What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?

I saw't not, thought it not,
it harmed not me.

I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips.

He is not robbbed that knows not he is robbed.

Farewell the tranquil mind, farewell content!

Farewell the plumed troop ...

and the big wars
that make ambition virtue!

Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,

the royal banner, and all quality,

pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!

And, O you mortal engines whose rude throats...

the immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit!

Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

Is't possible, my lord?

Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore!

Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof.

Or thou hadst better have been born a dog...

than answer my waked wrath!

To be direct and honest is not safe.

Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest.

I should be wise for honesty's a fool.

By heaven, I think thou'rt just -
and think thou art not.

I'll have some proof!

Would you, the supervisor...

grossly gape on, behold her tupped?

Death and damnation! O!

It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
to bring them to that prospect.

Give me a living reason she's disloyal.

But if strong circumstance will satisfy you -
had not your wife a handkerchief with strawberries?

I gave her such a one;
'twas my first gift.

I know not that.

With such a handkerchief did I today
see Cassio wipe his beard.

O, that the slave had forty thousand lives!

One is too poor, too weak for my revenge!

Now do I see 'tis true.

Look here:

All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven.

'Tis gone.

Arise, black vengeance, from the hollow hell!

Swell, bosom, with a fraught of aspics' tongues!

Yet be content.

O, blood, Iago, blood!

Patience, I say;
your mind perhaps may change.

Never, Iago.

Like to the Pontic Sea, whose icy current
keeps due on to the Propontic and the Hellespont;

even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,

till that a capable and wide revenge swallow them up.

Now, by yond marble heaven,

in the due reverence of a sacred vow
I here engage my words.

Do not rise yet.

Witness, you ever-burning lights above,

that Iago doth give up his wit, hands, heart
to wronged Othello's service!

I will upon the instant put thee to't.

Within these three days let me hear thee say
that Cassio's not alive.

Now art thou my lieutenant.

I am your own for ever.

Save you, friend Cassio!

My fair Bianca. I was coming to your house.

And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.

What, keep a week away?
Seven days and nights?

Eight score eight hours?
O weary reckoning!

With leaden thoughts I have this while been pressed,

but now I shall strike off this score of absence.

Whence came this?
From a newer friend?

I know not, sweet.
I found it in my chamber.

Take it and copy't for me;
and leave me now.

Leave you? Wherefore?

I do attend the general here, Bianca.

But say if I shall see you soon at night.

'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,

I'll see you soon.

Where should I lose that handkerchief?

I don't know.

I'd rather have lost my purse full of crusadoes.

Is he not jealous?

Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
drew all such humours from him.

Look, where he comes.

I will not leave him now
till he have Cassio called.

How is it with my lord?

Well, my good lady.

O, hardness to dissemble!

How do you, Desdemona?

I'm well.

Give me your hand.

This hand is moist, my lady.

It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.

This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart.

Hot, hot, and moist:

This hand of yours requires
a sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer.

For here's a young and sweating devil here
that commonly rebels.

'Tis a good hand, a frank one.

You may, indeed, say so;
for 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;
but our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

I cannot speak of this.

- Come now, your promise.
- What promise, chuck?

I have bid Cassio come speak with you.

I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;
lend me thy handkerchief.

Here, my lord.

- That which I gave you.
- I have it not about me.

- Not?
- No, faith, my lord.

That handkerchief an Egyptian gave my mother.

She was a charmer,
and she told her - while she kept it,

it would subdue my father to her love.

She, dying, bid me give it to my wife.

I did so, and take need on't;

make it a darling like your precious eye;

to lose't or give't away were such perdition...

as nothing else could match.

Then would to God that I had never seen it!

Ha! wherefore?

Why do you speak so startingly and rash?

Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out of the way?

- Heaven bless us!
- Say you?

It is not lost; but what an if it were?

How!

I say, it is not lost.

Fetch't, let me see it!

Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.

This is a trick to put me from my suit:

Pray you, let Cassio be received again.

Fetch me the handkerchief!

Come, come;
you'll never meet a more sufficient man.

The handkerchief!

I pray, talk me of Cassio.

The handkerchief!

A man that all his time hath founded his good fortunes
on your love, shar'd dangers with you...

The handkerchief!

In sooth, you are to blame.

Away!

Away!

Sure there's some wonder in this handkerchief.

I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

'Tis not a year or two shows us a man.

They are all but stomachs and we all but food.

They eat us hungerly, and when they are full,
they belch us.

Will you think so?

Think so?

To kiss in private, not meaning any harm?

Hypocricy.

It is a venial slip.

But if I give my wife a handkerchief -

By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it.

Thou said'st, it comes o'er my memory
as doth the raven o'er the infected house!

What if I said I had seen him do you wrong?

Or heard him say -
the knave!

Hath he said anything?

No more than he'll unswear.

What hath he said?

Faith, that he did -
I know not what he did.

What?

He said ...

Lie,-

With her?

With her, on her; what you will.

To confess,

and be hanged for his labour -

First to be hanged - and then to confess

Handkerchief -

It is not words that shake me thus -

Pish! - Noses, ears, and lips.

Is't possible? - Confess -

Handkerchief! - O devil!

What's the matter?

A second fit; he had one yesterday.

He will recover straight;
and I would speak with you.

Would you bear your fortune like a man!

A horned man's a monster and a beast.

Cassio is come hither.
I shifted him away.

Do but encave yourself.

For I will make him tell the tale anew -

where, when, how oft and
how he hath coped your wife.

Mark you his gesture.
Marry, patience!

Or I shall say you are all spleen
and nothing of a man.

I will be found most cunning,

but - dost thou hear? - most bloody.

Keep time in all.

How now, lieutenant!

Give me not that addition
whose want kills me.

Ply Desdemona well
and you are sure on't.

Now, if this suit lay in Bianca's power,

how quickly should you speed!

Alas, poor rogue!

She gives it out that you shall marry her.

I marry her?
Think not my wit so unwholesome!

So, so, so, so: they laugh that win.

I never knew woman love man so.

I think, i' faith, she loves me.

She haunts me in every place.

I was the other day talking with certain Venetians,

and thither comes the bauble
and falls about my neck.

Do you triumph?

Look where she comes!

Let the devil haunt you!
I was a fool to take it.

By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!

I must after her.
She'll rail in the street else.

- Will you sup there?
I intend so.

How shall I murder him?

- Saw you the handkerchief?
- Yes. That was mine.

And see how he prizes your wife:

she gave it him,

and he hath given it to his whore.

I would have him nine years a-killing.

A fine woman...

a fair woman...
a sweet woman...

Nay. you must forget that.

I do but say what she is.

An admirable musician.

Of so high and plenteous wit and invention!

She's the worse for all this.

O, a thousand, a thousand times -

- And of so gentle a condition!
- Ay, too gentle.

Nay, that's certain -

But yet the pity of it, Iago!
The pity of it!

If you are so fond over her iniquity,

give her patent to offend.

Get me some poison... this night...

lest her beauty unprovide my mind again.

Do it not with poison;
strangle her in her bed,

even the bed she hath contaminated.

Good, good;

the justice of it pleases.

For Cassio - let me be his undertaker.

What trumpet's that?

Something from Venice.

'Tis Lodovico,

come from the duke.

Save you, worthy general!

The duke and senators of Venice greet you.

I kiss the instrument of their pleasure.

And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?

Welcome to Cyprus, signior.

I thank you.
How does Lieutenant Cassio?

Lives, sir.

Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord,
an unkind breach: but you shall make all well.

Are you sure of that?

- He's busy in the paper.
- Is there division 'twixt them?

I would do much to atone them,
for the love...

Fire and brimstone!

May be the letter mov'd him;

I think they do command Othello home,
deputing Cassio in his government.

Trust me, I am glad on't.

Indeed!

My lord?

I am glad to see you mad.

Devil!

I have not deserved this.

My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice,

though I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much.

Make her amends, she weeps.

O devil, devil,
if that the earth could teem with woman's tears,

each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.

Out of my sight!

I will not stay to offend you.

Cassio shall have my place.

And, sir, tonight I do entreat that we may sup together.

You are welcome, sirs, to Cyprus...

goats and monkeys!

Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
call all-in-all sufficient?

Is this the nature passion could not shake?

He is much changed.

I am sorry that I am deceived in him.

How now, Roderigo!

I have wasted myself out of my means.

The jewels you have had from me...

to deliver to Desdemona...

would half have corrupted a votarist.

Very well.

Nay, it is scurvy.

I begin to find myself fobbed.

I will, indeed, no longer endure it.

If there's mettle in thee,
this night show it.

If thou the next night enjoy not Desdemona,

take me from this world with treachery
and devise engines for my life.

There is especial commission come from Venice
to depute Cassio in Othello's place.

Is that true?

Then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice?

No, he goes into Mauritania,
and takes away with him the fair Desdemona.

unless his abode be lingered here by some accident:
such as the removing of Cassio.

How do you mean "removing" of him?

Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place -
knocking out his brains.

And that you would have me do?

Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit.

He sups tonight with a harlotry,

and will be going thence between twelve and one -

you may take him at your pleasure:

I will be near to second your attempt.

Wear thy good rapier bare,
and put it home.

Villain, thou diest!

My coat is better than thou know'st.

Now I'll make proof of thine!

Help, ho! murder! murder!

'Tis some mischance.

The voice is very direful.

O wretched villain!

Who's there?

Whose noise is this
that cries on murder?

Iago? O, I am spoiled,
undone by villains!

A chair to bear him hence!

O me, what villains have done this?

Nobody come?
Then shall I bleed to death.

I think that one of them is hereabout.

Here, here! O help me!

Murderous slave!

O inhuman dog!

Iago!

I would you had never seen him!

So would not I;
my love doth so approve him...

that even his checks and frowns have grace in them.

I have laid those sheets you bade me
on the bed.

All's one.

How foolish are our minds!

If I should die,
shroud me in one of those.

My mother had a maid called Barbara.

She was in love,
and he she loved forsook her.

She had a song of "Willow"-

and died singing it.

That song tonight will not go from my mind.

# The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree.

# Sing all a green willow;

# Her hand on her bosom,
her head on her knee,

# Sing willow, willow, willow;

# The fresh streams ran by her,
and murmur'd her moans.

# Sing willow, willow, willow;

# Her salt tears fell from her
and softened the stones.

# Sing willow, willow, willow.

Hark! who is't that knocks?

It's the wind.

Good night.

Mine eyes do itch.
Doth that bode weeping?

'Tis neither here nor there.

I have heard it said so.

Put out the light...

and then put out the light.

If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,

I can again thy former light restore.

But once put out thy light,

thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,

where is that Promethean heat
that can thy light relume?

O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
justice to break her sword!

one more

one more

Be thus when thou art dead,

and I will kill thee, and love thee after.

One more, and this the last.

So sweet was ne'er so fatal.

She wakes.

- Othello?
- Ay, Desdemona.

Will you come to bed, my lord?

Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona?

Ay, my lord.

If you bethink yourself of any crime...

unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
solicit for it straight.

What may you mean by that?

Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;

No, - heaven forfend!
- I would not kill thy soul.

Talk you of killing?

Ay. -

I am to die now?

Yes, presently. Confess thee of thy sin.

Take heed of perjury -
thou'rt on thy death bed.

Then Lord have mercy on me!

Amen.

Heaven have mercy on me!

Peace, and be still!

I will so.

That handkerchief I gave thee
gave'st to Cassio?

- No, by my life and soul!
- I saw it in his hand.

He found it then.
Send for the man and ask him.

He hath confessed that he hath used thee.

- How? unlawfully?
- Ay.

He will not say so!

No, his mouth is stopped.
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.

O, my fear interprets!
What, is he dead?

Out, strumpet!
Weep'st thou for him to my face?

Let me but say one prayer!

It is too late.

What ho! my lord!

Who's there? Emilia.

Now?

Shall she come in?

If she come in
she'll sure speak to my wife.

What wife?

I have no wife.

I beg that I may speak with you, my lord!

I had forgot thee.
O, come in, Emilia.

O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done!

Cassio, my lord, hath killed one Roderigo!

And Cassio's killed?

No, Cassio is not killed.

Not Cassio kill'd!

O, falsely, falsely murdered....

-What cry is that?
- That? What?

Out and alas!
that was my lady's voice.

Help! help, ho! help!

A guiltless death I die.

O, who hath done this deed?

Nobody; I myself.

Commend me to my kind lord.

Farewell.

You heard her say herself it was not I.

She said so;
I must needs report the truth.

She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell.

'Twas I that killed her.

O! black devil, you!

- She was a whore.
- Thou dost belie her!

O, I were damned but that I did proceed
upon just grounds.

Thy husband knew it all.

My husband?

That she was false to wedlock?

Ay, with Cassio.

My husband?

'Twas he that told me first.
An honest man he is.

- My husband?
- Ay, thy husband.

My husband say that she was false?

My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

He lies to the heart!

She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.

Ha!

Peace, you were best.

O gull! O dolt! As ignorant as dirt!

I care not for thy sword,
I'll make thee known,

though I lost twenty lives.

Help, ho! the Moor hath killed
my mistress! murder!

What is the matter?
How now, general!

He says thou told'st him
that his wife was false.

I know thou didst not,
thou'rt not such a villain.

Speak, for my heart is full.

I told no more...

than what he found himself was true.

You told a lie, an odious, damned lie!

She false with Cassio?

Go to, charm your tongue.

My mistress here lies murdered in her bed.

Nay, stare not, masters:

it is true, indeed.

'Tis pitiful;

but yet Iago knows ...

that she with Cassio hath the act of shame
a thousand times committed.

And she did gratify his amorous works...

with that recognizance and pledge of love...

which I first gave her.
I saw it in his hand.

It was a handkerchief
my father gave my mother.

O heavenly powers!

Come, hold your peace.

No, I will speak out!

Be wise and get you home!

I will not.

Your sword upon a woman?

That handkerchief I found
and gave my husband.

For often he did beg of me to steal it.

- She give it Cassio!
- No, alas, I found it,

and I did give't my husband.

- Filth, thou liest!
- By heaven, I do not!

Are there no stones in heaven
but for the thunder?

O precious villain!

O ill-starred wench!

Pale as thy smock!

When we shall meet at compt,

this look of thine
will hurl my soul from heaven,

and fiends will snatch at it.

Cold. cold, my girl!
Even like thy chastity.

Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?

That's he that was Othello;
here I am.

O thou Othello, that wert once so good,

fall'n in the practice of a damned slave,

what shall be said to thee?

Why, anything.

An honourable murderer, if you will.

For naught did I in hate,
but all in honour.

You must forsake this place and go with us.

Your power and your command is taken off,
and Cassio rules in Cyprus.

For this accursed slave -

if there be any cunning cruelty
that can torment him much and hold him long,

it shall be his.

You shall close prisoner rest...

till that your fault be known to the Venetian state.

Come, bring away.

Soft you; a word or two before you go.

I have done the state some service,
and they know't.

In your letters,
when you shall these unlucky deeds relate,

speak of me as I am;
nothing extenuate,

nor set down aught in malice:

then must you speak...

of one that loved not wisely, but too well;

of one not easily jealous...

but, being wrought,
perplexed in the extreme;

of one whose hand, like the base Judean,

threw a pearl away
richer than all his tribe;

of one whose subdued eyes,

albeit unused to the melting mood,

drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
their medicinal gum.

Set you down this;

and say, besides, that in Aleppo once,

where a malignant and a turbaned Turk
beat a Venetian and traduced the state,

I took by the throat the circumcised dog,

and smote him - thus.

I kissed thee ere I killed thee;
no way but this,

killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

O Spartan dog!

Look on the tragic loading of this bed.

This is thy work -
the object poisons sight.

Myself must straight be gone and to the state...

this heavy act with heavy heart relate.

The End

timings: serdar202@KG