All language subtitles for Otelo h264

The tragedy of Othello.

This is a motion picture
based on the play by William Shakespeare.

The cast of characters,
in the order of their appearance.

Iago: Micheal MacLiammoir.

Desdemona: Suzanne Cloutier.

Othello: Orson Welles.

Roderigo: Robert Coote.

Brabantio: Hilton Edwards.

Cassia: Michael Laurence.

Emilia: Fay Compton.

Lodovico: Nicholas Bruce.

Montana: Jean Davis.

Bianca: Doris Dowling.

The photography is by Anchise Brizzi,
G.R. Aldo and George Fanto,

with Oberdan Troiani and Roberto Fusi.

The film was edited by John Shepridge,

with Jean Sacha and Renzo Lucidi.

Michael Washinsky was associate director.

Alexandre Trauner designed the sets

and Maria De Matteis the costumes.

Julien Derode and Giorgio Papi
were associate producers,

with Walter Bedone, Patrice Dali
and Rocco Facchini.

Francesco Lavagnino and Alberto Barberis
composed the music,

which was conducted by Willy Ferrero.

Orson Welles directed and produced.

This is a Mercury production.

Desdemona.

And... Othello.

I have told thee often, and I retell thee

again and again.

I hate the Moor.

'Tis thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets

he hath done my office.

I know not if't be true.

What a full fortune does the thicklips owe

if he can carry it thus.

I'll poison his delight.

How?

- How, lago?
- Proclaim him in the streets.

Incense her kinsmen,
and, though he in fertile climate dwell,

plague him with flies.

- What will I do, thinks thou?
- Why, go to bed and sleep.

I will incontinently drown myself.

- O, villainous.
- What should I do?

Who'll put money in thy purse?

Ere I would say I would drown myself
for the love of a guinea hen.

I would change my humanity with a baboon.

Hmm.

Ay, put money in thy purse.

Come, be a man. Huh?

Drown thyself.
Drown cats and blind puppies.

It cannot be that Desdemona should
long continue her love to the Moor

or he to her.

This was a violent commencement,

and thou shalt see
an answerable sequestration.

Fill thy purse with money.

When she is sated with his body,
she will find the error of her choice.

She must have change, she must.

Therefore, make money.

If thou wilt needs damn thyself,
do it a more delicate way than drowning.

Thieves! Thieves!

- Look to your house, your daughter!
- Your house! Your daughter!

Signior, is all your family within?

Ay, wherefore ask you this?

Is it your pleasure that your daughter be
transported with no worse nor better guard,

but with a knave of common hire,
a gondolier,

to the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor?

This thou should answer!

Straight, satisfy yourself, if she be
in her chamber or your house.

Iago, can I depend on thee?

Thou art sure of me. Go, make money.

It is too true an evil. Gone she is.

Is there not charms by which the property
of youth and maidhood may be abused?

Have you not read, Roderigo,
of some such thing?

Yes, sir, I have indeed.

Call up all my people! Raise my kindred!

Where is the Moor? Out with him!

Thief!

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.

O, thou foul thief!
Where has thou stowed my daughter?

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

Good signior, where would you
that I go to answer this your charge?

To prison, till fit time of law
and course of direct session

call thee to answer.

Pray you, lead on.

Iago, bring Desdemona after us.

I prithee, let thy wife attend on her.

- Emilia.
- Yes, my lord?

Bring Desdemona after us.

Signiors! Signiors!

My letters say
a hundred and seven galleys.

Mine, a hundred and forty.

There's 200 yet to be all confirm
a Turkish fleet.

Signior, the Turkish preparation
makes for Rhodes!

For Rhodes? How many, as you guess?

Of 30 sail, and now they do restem
their backward course,

bearing with frank appearance
their purposes toward Cyprus.

Here comes the Moor.

Your Grace.

Your Grace.

My Lord Brabantio!

My daughter.

- Oh, my daughter.
- What's the matter?

She is abused, stolen from me,
ay, corrupted by magic spell!

I am very sorry for it.

If she in chains of magic were not bound,
think you were made so tender?

Fair and happy would ever
have to incur a general mock,

run from her father to the sooty bosom
of such a thing as that.

Damned as thou art,
thou hast enchanted her!

Othello, what in your own part
can you say to this?

Nothing, but this is so.

Did you by indirect and forced courses

subdue and poison
this young maid's affection?

Most potent, grave and reverend signiors,

my very noble and approved good masters,

that I have ta'en away
this old man's daughter, it is most true.

True, I have married her.

The very head and front of my offending
hath this extent, no more.

Rude am I in my speech,

and little blessed
with the soft phrase of peace,

for since these arms of mine
had seven years' pith,

till now some nine moons wasted,

they've used their dearest action
in the tented field

and little of this great world
can I speak more

than pertains
to feats of broil and battle,

and therefore little can I grace my cause
in speaking for myself.

Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will a round unvarnished tale deliver

of my whole course of love -

what drugs, what charms,
what conjuration and what mighty magic,

for such proceeding I'm charged withal,

I won his daughter.

Brabantio loved me, oft invited me,
still questioned me the story of my life.

I ran it through, even from my boyish days
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 travel's history,

wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,

rough quarries, rocks and hills
whose heads touch heaven,

it was my hint to speak.

This to hear

would Desdemona seriously incline.

But still the house-affairs
would draw her thence,

which ever as she could with
haste dispatch, she'd come again

and with a greedy ear
devour up my discourse.

I found good means to draw from her
a prayer of earnest heart

that I would all my pilgrimage dilate,

and often did beguile her of her tears

when I did speak of some distressed
stroke that my youth suffered.

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 she 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.

I think this tale
would win my daughter too.

Come hither, Desdemona.

Do you perceive in all this noble company

where most you owe obedience?

My noble father,
I do perceive here a divided duty.

To you I am bound for life and education.

My life and education
both do learn me how to respect you.

You are the lord of duty.

I am hitherto your daughter.

But here's my husband,

and so much duty
as my mother showed to you,

preferring you before her father,

so much I challenge that I may profess
due to the Moor,

my lord.

God be with you.

I have done.

When remedies are past,
the griefs are ended.

Please it, Your Grace,
on to the state affairs.

The Turk with a most mighty preparation
makes for Cyprus.

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

- You must away this morning.
- With all my heart.

When we consider the importancy
of Cyprus to the Turk,

we must not think the Turk is so unskillful to
leave that latest which concerns him first,

neglecting an attempt of ease and gain
to wake and wage a danger profitless.

Look to her, Moor,
if thou hast eyes to see.

She has deceived her father and may thee.

My life upon her faith.

Mark me with what violence
she first loved the Moor,

but for bragging and telling
of fantastical lies.

And will she love him still for prating?

Let not thy discreet heart think it.

Lieutenant Casein.

Iago.

Lieutenant. I know my price.
I'm worth a place.

But he, sir, had the election.

And what is he, this Michael Cassio,

this Florentine,
who never set a squadron in the field

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

Yet Cassio must a lieutenant be
and I - God bless the mark -

Othello's ensign.

- Well, I would not follow him then.
- O, sir, content you.

I follow him to serve my turn upon him.

Iago. Iago! Honest lago.

- I wait upon Your Lordship.
- My Desdemona must I leave with thee.

Pray, bring her after
in good time to Cyprus.

Well, me good lord, I'll do it.

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
in this as asses are.

- We cannot all be masters.
- Nor all masters cannot be truly followed.

You shall mark many a duteous
and knee-crooking knave

who, doting on his own obsequious bondage,

wears out his time,
much like his master's ass,

for nought but provender,
and, when he's old, cashiered.

Whip me such honest knaves.

Others there are who, throwing but
shows of service on their lords,

do well thrive by them,

and, when they have lined their coats,
do themselves homage.

These fellows have some soul,
and such a one do I profess myself.

For, sir, it is as sure
as you are Roderigo,

were I the Moor, I would not be lago.

In following him, I follow but myself.

For when my outward action
doth demonstrate

the native act and figure of my heart
in compliment extern,

'tis not long after but I will wear
my heart upon my sleeve

for daws to peck at.

I am not... what I am.

I have but an hour of love
to spend with thee.

We must obey the time.

What from the cape can you discern at sea?

Nothing at all, sir!

To the higher up then!

Good lago, what tidings
can you tell me of my lord?

He is not yet arrived.

If that the Turkish fleet be not
close sheltered, they are drowned.

It is impossible they bear it out.

It is him! I know his trumpet.

News, lads! News!

The desperate tempest has so banged
the Turks that their designment halts.

Our wars are done!

- Desdemona.
- He takes her by the palm.

An excellent courtesan.

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

It gives me wonder great as my content

to see you here before me.

O my soul's joy.

If after every tempest come such calms,

may the winds blow
till they have wakened death.

- My dear Othello.
- O my fair warrior.

I prattle out of fashion,
and I dote in mine own comforts.

Worthy Montano, your pardon, sir.

Good Michael,
look you to the guard tonight.

Come, my dear love.

Once more, well met at Cyprus!

It is Othello's pleasure

that, upon certain tidings newly arrived,

importing the destruction
of the Turkish fleet,

every man put himself into triumph,

each man to what sport and revels
his addiction leads him.

For, besides this beneficial news,

it is the celebration
of our general's nuptials.

Heaven bless the Isle of Cyprus

and our noble general, Othello!

First, I must tell you this.

Desdemona is directly in love with...

- Cassio.
- Shh.

Why, it's not possible.

Her eye must be fed,

and what delight shall she have
to look on Othello?

Very nature will compel her
to some second choice.

Now, sir, who stands so eminent
in the degree of this fortune

as Cassio does?

Why, none. Why, none.

A slipper and subtle knave,
a finder out of occasions,

oh, a devilish knave.

He is handsome.

- Cassio?
- Uh-huh.

He hath all the requisites in him
that folly and green minds look after.

O, a pestilent complete knave,

and the woman hath found him already.

I cannot believe ill in Desdemona.

Where did he go?

Didst thou not see her paddle
with the palm of his hand?

Didst not mark that?

Yes, that I did, but that was but courtesy.

Courtesy? Lechery.

An index and obscure prologue
to the history of lust and foul thoughts.

Why, they met so near with their lips

that their breaths embraced together.

Villainous thoughts, Roderigo.

Sir, be you ruled by me.

List me. Lieutenant Cassio tonight
watches on the court of guard.

Cassio knows you not.
I'll not be far from you.

Do you find some occasion to anger him,
by what course you please.

Well...

Sir, he's rash and very sudden in choler
and haply may strike at you.

Provoke him, that he may,
for even out of this,

will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny
and the displanting of Cassio.

Lieutenant Cassio!

- Iago?
- How say you?

- Advise me well, lago?
- In the sincerity of love and friendship.

Farewell.
Come, Lieutenant, a stoup of wine!

Here are a brace of gallants
that would fain have a measure

to the health of black Othello.

Not tonight, good lago.

I have very poor and unhappy brains
for drinking.

One cup.

- I must to the watch.
- Not this hour, Lieutenant.

It is not yet ten of the clock.

Our general cast us thus early
for love of his Desdemona.

He has not yet made wanton the night
with her, and she is sport for Jove.

She's a most exquisite lady.

And I'll warrant her, full of game, eh?

What an eye she has. Come, Lieutenant.

An inviting eye,
and yet I think right modest.

Well,

happiness to their sheets.

Another cup. I'll drink for you.

I've drunk two cups tonight and dare
not task my weakness with any more.

Why, man? 'Tis a night of revels.

I'll do it, but it dislikes me.

Come.

If I were now to die,
'twere now to be most happy,

for I fear my soul have her content,

so absolute

that not another comfort like to this

succeeds in unknown fate.

- ♪ Drink to the man who can drink ♪
- Cassio.

♪ And here's to the man who can find
His wife in golden, golden drink A'

♪ Drink to the man
Who can drink, drink, drink ♪

♪ >A' Find him the barrel, I say I'

♪ A pint to the man who can find
His life in golden, golden drink A'

'Fore God, an excellent song.

I learned it in England, where indeed
they are most potent in potting.

Your Dane, your German,
your swag-bellied Hollander -

Drink, ho -

are nothing to your English.

Ah? ls your Englishman so expert
in his drinking?

He drinks you with facility,
a Dane dead drunk.

He sweats not to overthrow your Almain.

He gives your Hollander a vomit
ere the next pottle can be filled.

To the health of our general!

I'm for it, Lieutenant,
and I'll do you justice.

Drink, drink, drink, drink,
drink, drink, drink, drink!

Drink, drink, drink!

Drink, drink, drink, drink,
drink, drink, drink!

Good faith, a little one.
Not past a pint, as I'm a soldier.

Well, God's above all,

and there be souls must be saved,

and there be souls must not be saved.

Good Lieutenant.

For my own part,
no offense to the general...

or any man of quality -

- I hope to be saved.
- And so do I too, Lieutenant.

Ay, but, by your leave, not before me.

Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk.

This is my ensign.

This is my right hand, this is my left.

I am not drunk now.

I can stand well enough
and speak well enough.

Excellent well.

Very well then.

You must not think that I am drunk.

'Zounds! You rogue! You rascal!

Hey! Help!

What noise is this?

A knave teach me my duty?

- What's the matter, Lieutenant?
- I'll beat the knave into a wicker bottle.

Halt!

Away, I say. Go out, cry mutiny.

Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny!

Mutiny!

Mutiny!

Mutiny!

God's will, Lieutenant, hold!
You will be ashamed forever.

Have you forgot all sense of place
and duty? The town will rise!

Hold, gentlemen!

- Bid you come hither.
- At whose command?

Our general's.

Silence that dreadful bell.

Who began this? Iago?

I do not know.

Friends all, but no, even now, in quarter,

and in terms like bride and groom
devesting them for bed,

and then, but now - swords out
and tilting one at other's breast.

Worthy Montano, what's the matter,

that you unlace your reputation thus

and spend your rich opinion
for the name of a night-brawler?

Your officer, lago, can inform you.

What? In a town of war,
to manage private and domestic quarrel

in night,
from a court and guard of safety?

Iago, who began it?

Thou sayest more or less than truth,
thou an no soldier.

I had rather have this tongue cut
from my mouth

than let you do offense to Michael Cassio.

Sir, men in rage strike those
that wish them best,

yet surely Cassio, I believe,
received from him that's fled

some... strange indignity,
which patience could not pass.

I know, lago, thy honesty and love
doth mince this matter,

making it light to Cassio.

Cassio, I love thee...

but never more be officer of mine.

Look, if my gentle love be not raised up.

I'll make thee an example.

What, do you hurt, Lieutenant?

Ay, past all surgery.

Marry, heaven forbid.

Reputation, reputation, reputation.

I have lost my reputation.

I have lost the immortal part of myself,
and what remains is bestial.

My reputation, lago, my reputation!

Reputations, oft got without merit
and lost without deserving.

I'll tell you what you shall do.

Our general's wife is now the general.

Confess yourself freely to her.

Desdemona is of so free, so kind,
so blessed a disposition,

she holds it a vice in her goodness
not to do more than she is requested.

Farewell, Lieutenant.

Roderigo.

My money is almost spent,

and I've been tonight
exceedingly well cudgeled.

And I think the issue will be, I shall have
so much experience for my pains,

and so, with no money at all
and little more wit,

return again to Venice.

How poor are they
that have no patience.

Ow!

Does not go well?

Cassio hath beaten thee, and thou,
by that small hurt, hath cashiered Cassio.

Content thyself a while.

For whilst this fool plies Desdemona
to repair his fortunes

and she for him pleads strongly
to the Moor,

lo, by how much
she strives to do him good,

she shall undo her credit with the Moor.

So I will turn her virtue into pitch

and out of her own goodness
make the net that shall enmesh them all.

Do not doubt, Cassio,
but I will have my lord and you

again as friendly as you were.

Bounteous madam,
whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,

he's never anything but your true servant.

- Huh. I like not that.
- What dost thou say?

Nothing, my lord. Or if - I know not what.

How now, my lord?

I have been talking with a suitor here,
a man that languishes in your displeasure.

- Who is't you mean?
- Why, your lieutenant, Cassio.

- Went he hence now?
- Ay, sooth, so humbled

that he left part of his grief with me
to suffer with him.

- Good love, call him back.
- Some other time.

- Shall it be shortly?
- The sooner, sweet, for you.

- Shall it be tonight at supper?
- No, not tonight.

Tomorrow at dinner then?

I do not dine at home.
I meet the captains in the citadel.

Why, then, tomorrow night.
I prithee, name the time.

No more. Let him come when he will.
I will deny thee nothing.

Wherein, I do entreat you,

grant me this,
to leave me but a little to myself.

Shall I deny you? No.

Farewell, my lord.

- My noble lord -
- What dost thou say, lago?

Did Michael Cassio,
when you woo'd my lady,

know of your love?

He did, from first to last.

Why dost thou ask?

But for the satisfaction of my thought,
no further harm.

Why of thy thoughts, lago?

I did not think
he'd been acquainted with her.

Oh, yes, and went between us very often.

- Indeed.
- “Indeed”?

Ay, indeed.

Discern'st thou aught in that?

Is he not honest?

Honest, my lord?

Honest, ay, honest.

My lord, for aught I know.

What does thou think?

Think, my lord?

Think.

Thou dost mean something.

I heard thee say, even now, thou likes
not that, when Cassio left my wife.

If thou dost love me,

show me thy thoughts.

- My lord, you know I love you.
- I think thou dost.

For Michael Cassio,

I dare be sworn I think he's honest.

I think so too.

Men should be what they seem.

Certain, men should be what they seem.

Why, then I think Cassio is an honest man.

Nay,

yet there's more in this.

I prithee,

speak to me as to thy thinkings.

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,

is the immediate jewel of their souls.

Who steals my purse steals trash,
'tis something-nothing.

'Twas mine, 'tis his,
and has been slave to thousands.

But he that filches from me my good name

robs me of that which not enriches him

and makes me poor indeed.

By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy.

It is the green-eyed monster
which doth mock the meat it feeds on.

That cuckold lives in bliss
who, certain of his faith,

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'll make a life of jealousy,

to follow still the changes of the moon
with fresh suspicions?

No, lago, I'll see before I doubt.

When I doubt, prove.

I speak not yet of proof.

Look to your wife.

Observe her well with Cassio.

I know our country disposition well.

In Venice they do let heaven
see the pranks

they dare not show their husbands.

Their best conscience is not
to leave't undone, but keep't unknown.

Dost thou say so?

She did deceive her father, marrying you,

and when she seemed to shake and fear
your looks, she loved them most.

- Ah, so she did.
- Why, go to then.

She that, so young,
would give out such a seeming

to seel her father's eyes up close as oak
he thought 'twas witchcraft -

But I am much to blame.

I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
for too much loving you.

I am bound to thee forever.

I see this hath a little
dashed your spirits.

Not a jot. Not a jot.

I'faith, I fear it has.

I hope you will consider what is spoke
comes from my love.

Cassio is my worthy friend.

My lord, I see you are moved.

No, not much moved.

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.

As, to be bold with you,
not to affect many proposed matches

of her own clime, complexion and degree.

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

foul disproportion,

thoughts unnatural.

My lord!

I would I might entreat your honor
to scan this thing no further.

Leave it to time.

Farewell.

Leave me, lago.

How now, my dear Othello?

My lord, I take my leave.

Are you not well?

I have a pain upon my forehead here.

'Faith, that's with watching.
'Twill away again.

Let me but bind it hard.
Within this hour -

Your napkin is too little. Let it alone.

- I have a thing for you.
- A thing for me?

It's a common thing -
to have a foolish wife.

Is that all? What will you give me now
for that same handkerchief?

- What handkerchief?
- That which so often you did bid me steal.

Give it me.

If it be not for some purpose of import,
give it me again.

- Poor lady, she'll run mad -
- I have a use for it. Leave me.

How now, general?

I swear 'tis better to be much abused
than but to know a little.

My lord.
- ls my lord angry?

He went hence but now, lago,
and certainly in strange unquietness.

- I will go seek him.
- Prithee do so.

There's matter in't indeed if he be angry.

Villain, be sure
thou proves my love a whore.

Be sure of it.

Give me the ocular proof,
or by the worth of man's immortal soul,

thou hadst been better have been born a dog
than answer my wak'd wrath!

- O grace.
- Make me to see it, or, at the least,

so prove it that the probation bear
no hinge nor loop to hang a doubt on,

or woe upon thy life!

Never pray more, abandon all remorse,

for nothing canst thou to damnation add
greater than that.

O monstrous world!
Take note, take note, O world.

To be direct and honest is not safe.

By the world,

I think my wife be honest,

and think she is not.

I think that thou art just,

and think thou art not.

I'll have some proof.

Her name, that was as fresh
as Dian's visage,

is now begrimed and black

as mine own face.

- Would I were satisfied!
- How satisfied, my lord?

Would you, the supervisor,
grossly gape on?

- Behold her topped?
- Blood!

Where's satisfaction?

'Tis impossible you should see this,

were they as prime as goats,
as hot as monkeys.

Give me a living reason she's disloyal.

I lay with Cassio lately,
and being troubled with a raging tooth,

I could not sleep.

There are a kind of men so loose of soul that
in their sleep will mutter their affairs.

One of this kind is Cassio.

In sleep I heard him say,

“Sweet Desdemona, let us be wary.
Let us hide our loves.”

And then, sir, would he gripe
and wring my hand,

cry, “Oh, sweet creature”
and then kiss me hard,

as if he plucked up kisses by the roots
that grew upon my lips,

then laid his leg over my thigh,
and sighed, and kissed

and then cried, “Cursed fate
that gave thee to the Moor!”

I'll tear her all to pieces!

Tell me but this.

Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?

I gave her such a one.

Such a handkerchief,
I'm sure it was your wife's,

did I today see Cassio wipe his face with.

- If it be that-
- If it be that, or any that was hers,

it speaks against her
with the other proofs.

Now do I see 'tis true.

O, that the slave had 40,000 lives.

One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.

- Yet be content.
- Blood!

- Blood, blood!
- Patience, I say.

Your mind perhaps may change.

Never, lago.

Like to the Pontic sea,
whose icy current and compulsive course

ne'er feels retiring ebb, but 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!

Witness that here lago doth give up
the execution of his wit, hands, heart

to wronged Othello's service.

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

My friend is dead.
'Tis done at your request.

- But let her live.
- Damn her, lewd minx!

O, damn her!

Now art thou my lieutenant.

I am your own forever.

Cassio. Cassio!

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.

'Tis a good hand, a frank one.

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

- A liberal hand.
- Come now, your promise.

- What promise, chuck?
- Let Cassio be received again.

Lend me thy handkerchief.

- I have it not about me.
- Not?

- No, indeed, my lord.
- That's a fault.

That handkerchief did an Egyptian
to my mother give.

The worms were hallowed
that did breed the silk.

- Then would to God I'd never seen it.
- Is't lost? Is't gone?

- Speak, is't out o' the way?
- It is not lost, but what and if it were?

- How?
- I say, it is not lost.

Fetch it. 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.
- I pray, talk me of Cassio.

The handkerchief!

A man that all his time hath founded
his good fortunes on your love,

shared dangers with you -

- The handkerchief!
- Come, come.

- You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
- Away.

Away.

Away!

Come, good lieutenant, come.

Cassio, this handkerchief - Whose is it?

I found it here. I like the work well.

Have it copied, take it
and leave me for the time.

Cassio, shall I see you soon at night?

I'll see you soon, Bianca.

I'll tell you yet again,
importune Desdemona

to help to put you in your place.

Sure, there's some wonder
in this handkerchief.

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

They're all but stomach,
and we all but food.

- Cassio.
- They eat us hungrily,

and when they are full, they belch us.

How now, good Cassio?
What's the news with you?

What trumpet is that same?

Something from Venice, sure.

My noble lord, whilst you were here
o'erwhelmed with your grief,

Cassio came hither.

I shifted him away, bade him
anon return here and speak with you.

Now mark the fleers, the gibes
and notable scorns

that dwell in every region of his face.

For I will make him tell the tale anew,

where, how, how oft, how long ago,

and when he hath,
and is again to cope your wife.

I say, but mark his gesture.

Marry, patience, or I shall say
you're all in all in spleen,

and nothing of a man.

Dost thou hear, lago? I will be
found most cunning in my patience.

But dost thou hear?

Most bloody.

- How do you now, Lieutenant?
- Iago?

Now, if this suit lay in Bianca's power,
how quickly should you speed.

Alas, poor creature.

I never knew a woman love man so.

She gives it out

that you shall marry her.

I?

She haunts me in every place.

I was talking on the sea bank
with certain Venetians,

and thither comes the bauble,
she falls me thus about my neck -

So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me.

So hales and pulls me!

Cassio!

I must leave her company.

What did you mean by that same handkerchief
you gave me even now?

I must take out the work?

A likely piece of work,
that you should find it in your chamber,

and not even know who left it there!

This is a minx's token.
I'll take out no work on't.

How now, my sweet Bianca? How now?

After her, after her.

Did you see how he laughed at his vice?

O lago.

- Did you see the handkerchief?
- Was that mine?

Yours.

Desdemona gave it him,
and he hath given it his whore.

I had been happy if the general camp,
pioneers and all,

had tasted her sweet body,

so I had nothing known.

What sense had I
of her stolen hours of lust?

I saw it not.

It harmed not me.

I slept the next night well,
was free and merry.

I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips.

A fine woman. A fair woman. A sweet woman.

Nay, you must forget that.

Ay, let her rot and perish and be damned.

No, my heart is turned to stone.

I strike it, and it hurts my hand.

O, the world hath not a sweeter creature.

She might lie by an emperor's side

and command him tasks.

Nay, that's not your way.

Hang her.

I do but say what she is.

So delicate with her needle.

An admirable musician.

Oh.

She will sing the savageness
out of a bear.

So high and plenteous wit and invention.

She's the worse for all that.

O, a thousand, thousand times,
and then, of so gentle a condition.

Ay, too gentle.

Nay, that's certain,
but yet the pity of it, lago.

O lago.

The pity of it, lago.

I'll chop her into messes!

Cuckold me?

O, 'tis foul in her.

- Will you think so?
- I think so, lago.

- What, to kiss in private?
- An unauthorized kiss.

Or to be naked with her friend in bed
an hour or more, not meaning any harm?

Naked in bed.

- But if I give my wife a handkerchief-
- What then?

Then 'tis hers, my lord, and being hers,
she may, I think, bestow it on any man.

But the handkerchief, by heaven,
I would most gladly have forgot it.

- He had my handkerchief.
- What of that?

That's not so good now.

What if I'd said
I'd seen him do you wrong?

- Or heard him say -
- Hath he said anything?

- He hath, my lord, but no more
than he'll - - What hath he said?

Faith, that he did -

- I know not what he -
- What? What?

Lie -

Lie with her?

With her,

on her.

What you will.

The handkerchief.

My lord, I say, Othello!

Dost thou mock me?

I mock you? No, by heaven.

O, now...

forever...

farewell the tranquil mind.

Farewell content.

Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars
that make ambition virtue.

O, farewell.

Farewell the neighing steed
and the shrill trump,

the spirit-stirring drum,

the ear-piercing fife,

the royal banner

and all quality, pride,
pomp and circumstance

of glorious war.

And, O ye mortal engines,

whose rude throats the immortal Jove's
dread clamors counterfeit-

farewell.

Othello's...

occupation's... gone.

- My lord.
- God save the worthy general.

Say you.

The duke and the senators of Venice
greet you.

I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.

Is there division
'twixt my lord and Cassio?

A most unhappy one.

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

- My lord.
- Maybe the letter moved him.

For, as I think, they do command him home,
deputing Cassio here as governor.

- By my troth, I am glad on't.
- Indeed?

My lord.

Why, sweet Othello.

Devil. Devil!

- Out of my sight!
- I will not stay to offend you.

Truly, an obedient lady.

I do beseech Your Lordship, call her back.

- Mistress!
- My lord.

- What would you with her, sir?
- Who, I, my lord?

Ay, you did wish
that I would make her turn.

Sir, she can turn, and turn,
and yet go on and turn again,

and she can weep, sir, weep,
and she's obedient, as you say.

Obedient, very obedient.
Proceed you in your tears!

Concerning this, sir -

Oh, well-painted passion.
I am commanded home.

Get you away.

I'll send for you anon.

Sir, I obey the mandate.

I will return to Venice.

Cassio shall have my place.

You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.

Goats.

And monkeys.

Are his wits safe?

Is he not light of brain?

He is that he is.

Let me see your eyes. Look in my face.

Why, what art thou?

Your wife, my lord.
Your true and loyal wife.

Had it pleased heaven
to try me with affliction,

had they rained all kinds of sores
and shames on my bare head,

steeped me in poverty to the very lips,

given in captivity me and my utmost hopes,

I should have found in someplace
of my soul a drop of patience.

But, alas, to make me a fixed figure
for the time of scorn

to point his slow unmoving finger at.

Yet could I bear that too.
Well, very well.

But there...

where I have garnered up my heart,

where either I must live or bear no life,

the fountain from the which
my current runs...

or else...

dries up

to be discarded thence.

Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
to knot and gender in.

I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

O, ay, as summer flies
are in the shambles,

that quicken even with blowing.

O thou weed,

that art so lovely fair...

and smell so sweet

that the sense...

aches at thee...

would thou hadst ne'er been born.

Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

Committed?

Committed?

O thou public commoner.

I should make very forges of my cheeks,
that would to cinders burn up modesty,

did I but speak thy deeds.

What committed?
Heaven stops the nose at it

and the moon winks,

the bawdy wind that kisses all it meets
is hushed within the hollow mine of earth

and will not hear it.

What committed?

Impudent strumpet.

By heaven, you do me wrong!

- Are not you a strumpet?
- No!

- As I am a Christian.
- Is't possible?

O, heaven forgive us!

I cry you mercy then.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
that married with Othello.

How do you, madam?
How do you, my good lady?

Faith, half asleep.

Good madam,
what's the matter with my lord?

With who?

Why, with my lord, madam.

- Who is thy lord?
- He that is yours, sweet lady.

I have none.

Do not talk to me, Emilia.

I cannot weep, nor answer have I none,
but what should go by water.

Prithee...

tonight

lay on my bed my wedding sheets.

Remember.

Get me some poison, Iago...

this night.

I'll not expostulate with her,

lest her body and 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.

And for Cassio...

let me be his undertaker.

Excellent good.

You shall hear more by midnight.

Heaven pardon him.

A halter pardon him
and hell gnaw his bones.

Why should he call you whore?

Who keeps your company?

What time? What place?

What form?

What likelihood?

The Moor's abused
by some most villainous knave,

some base notorious knave,
some scurvy fellow.

Speak within doors.

Some such squire he was who turned
your wit the seamy side without

and made you to suspect me with the Moor.

Desdemona.

Get you to bed.
Dismiss your attendant there.

Look it be done.

I do not find
that thou deals justly with me.

What in the contrary?

Every day thou daffest me
with some device, lago.

I've wasted myself out of my means.

The jewels you've had for me
to deliver to Desdemona

would have half corrupted a votarist.

You have told me she hath received them
and returned the expectations and comforts

of sudden respect and acquaintance,

but I find none.

Well, go to, very well.

Very well? Go to? I cannot go to, man,
nor 'tis not very well.

I will make myself known to Desdemona.

If she will return me my jewels...

If not, I will seek satisfaction of you.

Why, now, I see there's mettle in thee,

and even from this instant do build on thee
a better opinion than ever before.

Give me thy hand, Roderigo.

I protest, I have dealt
most directly in my affair.

It hath not appeared.

I grant indeed it hath not appeared,

and your suspicion
is not without wit and judgment.

Hmm.

If thou hast that in thee indeed
which I have greater reason to believe

now than ever,

I mean purpose, courage, valor,

this night prove it.

If thou the next night following...

enjoy not Desdemona...

take me from this world with treachery.

Sir, there is a special commission
come from Venice

deputing Cassio in Othello's place.

Why, then Othello and Desdemona
return again to Venice.

Unless his abode be lingered here
by some accident,

wherein none can be so determinant
as the removing of Cassio.

How do you mean, removing of him?

By making him incapable
of Othello's place.

Knocking out his brains.

And that you would have me to do?

I will be near to second your attempt.

He shall fall between us.

I have no great devotion to this deed.

It makes us or it mars us. Think on that.

That's one of them.

Egg?

Egg?

Iago!

Murder!

Hark!

Who is't that knocks?

It's the wind.

Mine eyes do itch. Doth that bode weeping?

- 'Tis neither here nor there.
- I've heard it said so.

O, these men, these men.

Dost thou in conscience think -
tell me, Emilia -

that there be women do abuse
their husbands in such gross kind?

There be some such, no question.

Wouldst thou do such a deed
for all the world?

- Why, would not you?
- No, by this heavenly light.

Nor I neither by this heavenly light.
I might do't as well I' the dark.

Wouldst thou do such a deed
for all the world?

The world's a huge place.

It's a great price to pay
for a small vice.

In troth, I think thou wouldst not.

In troth, I think I should.

Marry, I would not do such a thing
for a joint-ring,

nor for measure of lawn,
nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps,

nor any petty exhibition.

But for the whole world...

I do not think there is any such woman.

Yes, a dozen.

But I do think it is their husbands' fault
if wives do fall.

- Oh?
- Say that they slack their duties

and pour our treasures into foreign laps,

or else break out in peevish jealousies,

throwing restraint upon us?

Or say they strike us.

Well, we have gall,

and though we have some grace,
yet have we some revenge.

Let husbands know
their wives have sense like them.

They see and smell, and have
their palates both for sweet and sour,

as husbands have.

What is it that they do
when they change us for others?

Is it sport? I think it is.

And doth affection breed it?
I think it doth.

Is't frailty that thus errs? It is so too.

And have not we affections,
desires for sport

and frailty, as men have?

Then let them use us well,

else let them know the ills we do,
their ills instruct us so.

Good night.

Good night.

It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul.

Let me not name it to you,
you chaste stars.

It is the cause.

Yet I'll not shed her blood,

nor scar that whiter skin of hers
than snow

and smooth as monumental alabaster.

Yet she must die,

else she'll betray more men.

Put out the light,
and then put out the light.

If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,

I can again thy former light restore,
should I repent me.

But once put out thy light,

thou cunning'st pattern
of excelling nature,

I know not where is that Promethean heat
that can thy former light relume.

When I have plucked the rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again.

It must needs wither.

I'll smell it on the tree.

- 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.

Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that?

Well, do it, and be brief.

I would not kill thy unprepared spirit.

No, heaven forfend.

I would not kill thy soul.

- Talk you of killing?
- Ay, I do.

Then heaven have mercy on me.

Amen, with all my heart.

If you say $0.

I hope you will not kill me.

Peace, and be still.

I will so, and yet I fear you.

Why I should fear I know not,
since guiltiness I know not.

Yet I feel I fear.

That handkerchief which I so loved
and gave thee

thou gav'st to Cassio.

No, by my life and soul!

Send for the man and ask him.

Sweet soul, take heed,
take heed of perjury.

Thou art on thy deathbed.

- Then Lord have mercy on me.
- I say, amen.

And you have mercy too.
I never did love Cassio in my life.

- I saw the handkerchief.
- He found it then. I never gave it him.

Send for him hither.
Let him confess a truth.

- He hath confessed.
- What, my lord?

That he hath used thee.

How?

Unlawfully?

Ay.

He will not say so.

No, his mouth is stopped.

Honest lago hath ta'en order for it.

What, is he dead?

Had all his hairs been lives,
my great revenge had stomach for them all.

Down, strumpet!

- Weep'st thou for him to my face?
- Banish me, my lord, but kill me not.

Down, strumpet!

Kill me tomorrow. Let me live tonight.

It is too late.

Now, how dost thou look now?

Cold, cold, my girl.

Even like thy chastity.

O cursed, cursed slave!

Whip me, devils, from the possession
of this heavenly sight!

Blow me about in winds!

Roast me in sulfur.

Wash me in steep-down gulfs
of liquid fire.

O Desdemona!

Desdemona!

Dead!

- Oh!
- My lord, my lord!

What, ho! My lord!

My lord, I beseech
that I may speak with you!

0. good my lord!

What ho, my lord!

- I had forgot thee.
- O, my good lord.

Yonder - Alas, what cry is that?

- Yonder's foul murders done!
- What, now?

But now, my lord.

It is the very error of the moon.

She comes more nearer earth
than she was wont,

and makes men mad.

Alas, that was my lady's voice.

O! Sweet Desdemona!

Who hath done this deed?

Nobody. I myself.

Commend me to my kind lord.

You heard her say herself. It was not I.

She said so.
I must needs report the truth.

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

'Twas I that killed her.
She turned to folly. She was a whore.

Liar!

Cassio did top her. Ask thy husband else.

- That she was false to wedlock?
- Ay, with Cassio.

Nay, had she been true,

if heaven would make me such another world

of one entire and perfect chrysolite...

I'd not have sold her for it.

- My husband say that she was false?
- Ay, 'twas he that told me first.

An honest man he is, and hates the slime
that sticks on filthy deeds.

He was too fond
of her most filthy bargain.

- Peace.
- Do thy worst!

Peace.

This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
than thou wast worthy her.

- Peace, you were best.
- O gull!

O dolt!

As ignorant as dirt!

I'll make thee known,
though I lost 20 lives.

- Help!
- What's the matter?

Help! Ho, help! Murder! Help, ho!

Disprove the villain, if thou be'st a man.

He says thou toldst him that his wife
was false. I know thou didst not.

Speak, for my heart is full.

I told him what I thought, and told no more
than what he found himself was apt and true.

- Did you tell him that she was false?
- I did.

You told a lie, an odious, damned lie!

Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.

She false with Cassio?
Did you say with Cassio?

With Cassio, mistress.
Go to, charm your tongue.

I will not charm my tongue.
I'm bound to speak.

My mistress here lies murdered in her bed.

Heaven forfend!

Nay.

Stare not, masters.

It is true indeed.

Villainy.

Villainy. Villainy.

I think upon it. I smell't.

O villainy.

I thought so then -

I'll kill myself for grief -

- O villainy!
- Are you mad?

- Good gentlemen -
- I charge you, get you home.

Let me have leave to speak.

'Tis proper I obey him,

but not now.

Perchance, lago,

I shall ne'er go home.

Nay, lay thee down and roar,

for thou hast killed the sweetest innocent
that e'er did lift up eyes.

She was foul.

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

- O heavens!
- Cassio's confessed it.

She did gratify his amorous works
with that same handkerchief.

- That handkerchief?
- Alas!

- 'Twill out, 'twill out!
- Hold your peace.

I, peace?
No, I will speak as liberal as the north!

- Be wise.
- Let heaven and men and devils,

let them all, all, all
cry shame against me,

yet I'll speak.

O thou dull Moor.

That handkerchief thou speak'st of
I found by fortune

and did give my husband.

Moor.

She was chaste.

She loved thee.

Cruel Moor.

She loved thee.

This wretch hath part confessed
his villainy.

Othello, did you and he consent
in Cassio's death?

Ay.

Dear General, I never gave you cause.

Othello, your power
and your command is taken off,

and Cassio rules in Cyprus.

Be not afraid,

though you do see me weaponed.

Here is my journey's end.

Here is my butt
and very seamark of my utmost sail.

Will you, I pray.

Demand that demi-devil

why he hath thus ensnared
my soul and body?

Demand me nothing.

What you know, you know.

Are there no stones in heaven
but what serve for the thunder?

I Pray you...

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 Indian,

threw a pearl away...

richer than all his tribe.

Set you down this.