Othello, Act 1, Scene 2

Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o’ the conscience To do no contriv’d murder; I lack iniquity Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times I had thought to have yerk’d him here under the ribs.

Though I have killed men in the business of war, I still make it a matter of conscience to commit no deliberate murder. I lack the wickedness that would sometimes be useful to me. Nine or ten times I was ready to stab him here, under the ribs.

’Tis better as it is.

It's better as it is.

Nay, but he prated, And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour, That with the little godliness I have, I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir, Are you fast married? Be assur’d of this, That the magnifico is much belov’d And hath in his effect a voice potential As double as the duke’s; he will divorce you, Or put upon you what restraint and grievance The law (with all his might to enforce it on) Will give him cable.

No, but he babbled on, and used such vile and insulting words against your honour that, with the little piety I have, I could hardly hold back from him. But tell me, sir, are you securely married? Be sure of this: the great man is much loved, and in effect his voice carries as much power as the duke's — twice as much. He will divorce you, or impose on you whatever restriction and suffering the law, with all his strength to enforce it, gives him scope for.

Let him do his spite; My services, which I have done the signiory, Shall out-tongue his complaints. ’Tis yet to know,— Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, I shall promulgate,—I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege. And my demerits May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune As this that I have reach’d. For know, Iago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into circumscription and confine For the sea’s worth. But look, what lights come yond?

Let him do his worst. The services I have performed for the Venetian state will speak louder than his complaints. It is not yet known — and when I learn that boasting is honourable, I shall announce it — that I get my life and my being from men of royal rank. And my merits may speak, with my head uncovered, to a fortune as proud as this one I have reached. For understand, Iago: if I did not love the gentle Desdemona, I would not give up my free, unconfined condition to be hemmed in and restricted, not for all the treasure in the sea. But look, what lights are coming over there?

Those are the raised father and his friends: You were best go in.

That's her father, roused out of bed, and his friends. You had better go inside.

Not I; I must be found. My parts, my title, and my perfect soul Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?

Not I. I must be found. My qualities, my rank, and my clear conscience will show me for what I truly am. Is it them?

By Janus, I think no.

By Janus, I think not.

The servants of the duke and my lieutenant. The goodness of the night upon you, friends! What is the news?

It's the duke's servants and my lieutenant. May the blessings of the night be on you, friends! What's the news?

The duke does greet you, general, And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance Even on the instant.

The duke sends you his greetings, general, and requires you to appear before him with the greatest possible speed, this very moment.

What is the matter, think you?

What is it about, do you think?

Something from Cyprus, as I may divine. It is a business of some heat. The galleys Have sent a dozen sequent messengers This very night at one another’s heels; And many of the consuls, rais’d and met, Are at the duke’s already. You have been hotly call’d for, When, being not at your lodging to be found, The senate hath sent about three several quests To search you out.

Something to do with Cyprus, as far as I can guess. It's an urgent matter. The galleys have sent a dozen messengers one after another this very night, treading on each other's heels. Many of the senators, roused from bed and assembled, are at the duke's already. You have been urgently called for, and when you couldn't be found at your lodging, the senate sent out three separate search parties to find you.

’Tis well I am found by you. I will but spend a word here in the house, And go with you.

It's lucky you're the one who found me. I'll just have a word inside the house, and then come with you.

Ancient, what makes he here?

Ensign, what is he doing here?

Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carrack: If it prove lawful prize, he’s made forever.

Honestly, tonight he has boarded a treasure ship on dry land. If she turns out to be a lawful prize, he's made for life.

I do not understand.

I don't understand.

He’s married.

He's married.

To who?

To who?

Marry to—Come, captain, will you go?

Why, to — Come, captain, shall we go?

Have with you.

I'm coming with you.

Here comes another troop to seek for you.

Here comes another group looking for you.

It is Brabantio. General, be advis’d, He comes to bad intent.

It's Brabantio. General, be on your guard: he comes meaning harm.

Holla, stand there!

Hey there, stop where you are!

Signior, it is the Moor.

Sir, it's the Moor.

Down with him, thief!

Attack him, the thief!

You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you.

You, Roderigo! Come on, sir, I'll take you on.

Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons.

Put away your shining swords, or the dew will rust them. Good sir, you will command more respect with your years than with your weapons.

O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow’d my daughter? Damn’d as thou art, thou hast enchanted her, For I’ll refer me to all things of sense, (If she in chains of magic were not bound) Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy, So opposite to marriage, that she shunn’d The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, to incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thou—to fear, not to delight. Judge me the world, if ’tis not gross in sense, That thou hast practis’d on her with foul charms, Abus’d her delicate youth with drugs or minerals That weakens motion. I’ll have’t disputed on; ’Tis probable, and palpable to thinking. I therefore apprehend and do attach thee For an abuser of the world, a practiser Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.— Lay hold upon him, if he do resist, Subdue him at his peril.

Oh, you vile thief, where have you hidden my daughter? Damned as you are, you have bewitched her. I'll put it to everyone with any sense: unless she were bound in chains of magic, would a girl so young, so beautiful, so fortunate, so set against marriage that she refused the rich, curly-haired favourites of our country, ever have run away — bringing the mockery of everyone on herself — from her father's protection to the sooty breast of a thing like you? To something frightening, not something delightful. Let the world be my judge if it isn't obvious to the senses that you have worked on her with foul spells, and tampered with her delicate youth with drugs or potions that paralyse the will. I'll have the case examined; it's likely, and plain to anyone who thinks. So I arrest and seize you as a corrupter of the world, a practiser of forbidden and unlicensed arts. Take hold of him; if he resists, overpower him at his own risk.

Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining and the rest: Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter. Where will you that I go To answer this your charge?

Keep your hands down, both those on my side and the rest of you. If it were my moment to fight, I would have known it without anyone prompting me. Where would you like me to go to answer this charge of yours?

To prison, till fit time Of law and course of direct session Call thee to answer.

To prison, until the proper time appointed by law and the regular course of the court summons you to answer.

What if I do obey? How may the duke be therewith satisfied, Whose messengers are here about my side, Upon some present business of the state, To bring me to him?

And what if I do obey? How can the duke be satisfied with that, when his messengers are here at my side to bring me to him on some urgent state business?

’Tis true, most worthy signior, The duke’s in council, and your noble self, I am sure is sent for.

It's true, most worthy sir. The duke is in council, and I'm certain your noble self has been sent for.

How? The duke in council? In this time of the night? Bring him away; Mine’s not an idle cause. The duke himself, Or any of my brothers of the state, Cannot but feel this wrong as ’twere their own. For if such actions may have passage free, Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.

What? The duke in council? At this hour of the night? Bring him along. My case is no trivial one. The duke himself, or any of my fellow senators, cannot help feeling this injury as if it were their own. For if such deeds are allowed to pass freely, slaves and heathens will be our rulers.