Othello, the Moor of Venice
BRABANTIO -- a senator
Other senators
GRATIANO -- brother to BRABANTIO
LODOVICO -- kinsman to BRABANTIO
OTHELLO -- a noble Moor, in the service of Venice
CASSIO -- his lieutenant
IAGO -- his ancient
RODERIGO -- a Venetian gentleman
MONTANO -- OTHELLO'S predecessor in the government of Cyprus
Clown -- servant to OTHELLO
Herald
DESDEMONA -- daughter to BRABANTIO, and wife to OTHELLO
EMILIA -- wife to IAGO
BIANCA -- mistress to CASSIO
Officers, gentlemen, messenger, musicians, herald, sailor, attendants
PLAY
The First Act in Venice; during the rest of the play at a seaport in Cyprus.
ACT I
Scene i: Venice. A street.
Scene ii: Venice. Another street.
Scene iii: Venice. A council-chamber.
ACT II
Scene i: A seaport town in Cyprus. A platform.
Scene ii: A street.
Scene iii: A hall in the castle.
ACT III
Scene i: Cyprus. Before the castle.
Scene ii: Cyprus. A room in the castle.
Scene iii: Cyprus. The garden of the castle.
Scene iv: Cyprus. Before the castle.
ACT IV
Scene i: Cyprus. Before the castle.
Scene ii: Cyprus. A room in the castle.
Scene iii: Cyprus. Another room in the castle.
ACT V
Scene i: Cyprus. A street.
Scene ii: Cyprus. A bed-chamber in the castle. Desdemona in bed asleep.
Act III: Scene iii
OTHELLO: This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black,
And have not those soft parts of conversation
Tjhat chamberers have; or, for I am declin'd
Into the vale of years, -- yet that's not much,--
She's gone; I am abus'd; and my relief
Must be to loathe her. O curse my marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
Than keep a corner in the thing I love
For others' uses. Yet 'tis the plague of great ones;
Prerogativ'd are they less than the base;
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
Even then this forked plague is fated to us
When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!--
I'll not believe't.
