The Tragedy of Othello, Moor of Venice. Уильям Шекспир

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        IAGO. Though in the trade of war I have slain men,

          Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience

          To do no contrived murther. I lack iniquity

          Sometimes to do me service. Nine or ten times

          I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.

        OTHELLO. 'Tis better as it is.

        IAGO. Nay, but he prated

          And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms

          Against your honor

          That, with the little godliness I have,

          I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir,

          Are you fast married? Be assured of this,

          That the magnifico is much beloved,

          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.

        OTHELLO. 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 honor,

          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?

        IAGO. Those are the raised father and his friends.

          You were best go in.

        OTHELLO. Not I; I must be found.

          My parts, my title, and my perfect soul

          Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?

        IAGO. By Janus, I think no.

        OTHELLO. The servants of the Duke? And my lieutenant?

          The goodness of the night upon you, friends!

          What is the news?

        CASSIO. The Duke does greet you, general,

          And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,

          Even on the instant.

        OTHELLO. What is the matter, think you?

        CASSIO. 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, raised 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.

        OTHELLO. 'Tis well I am found by you.

          I will but spend a word here in the house

          And go with you.

        CASSIO. Ancient, what makes he here?

        IAGO. Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carack;

          If it prove lawful prize, he's made forever.

        CASSIO. I do not understand.

        IAGO. He's married.

        CASSIO. To who?

        IAGO. Marry, to- Come, captain, will you go?

        OTHELLO. Have with you.

        CASSIO. Here comes another troop to seek for you.

        IAGO. It is Brabantio. General, be advised,

          He comes to bad intent.

        OTHELLO. Holla! Stand there!

        RODERIGO. Signior, it is the Moor.

        BRABANTIO. Down with him, thief!

                                                   They draw on both

      sides.

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

        OTHELLO. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust

      them.

          Good signior, you shall more command with years

          Than with your weapons.

        BRABANTIO. 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 practiced on her with foul charms,

          Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals

          That weaken 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 practicer

          Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.

          Lay hold upon him. If he do resist,

          Subdue him at his peril.

        OTHELLO. 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. СКАЧАТЬ