![]() This news enrages Brabantio, who organizes an armed band to search out Othello. At Iago’s suggestion, he and Roderigo, a former suitor to Desdemona, awake Desdemona’s father to tell him that Desdemona has eloped with Othello. Act 1, scene 1 In the streets of Venice, Iago tells Roderigo of his hatred for Othello, who has given Cassio the lieutenancy that Iago wanted and has made Iago a mere ensign.Othello goes mad with jealousy and later smothers Desdemona on their marriage bed, only to learn of Iago’s treachery. Iago uses this and other ploys-misinterpreted conversations, insinuations, and a lost handkerchief-to convince Othello that Desdemona and Cassio are lovers. He lures Cassio into a drunken fight, for which Cassio loses his new rank Cassio, at Iago’s urging, then begs Desdemona to intervene. The Senate agrees to let her join Othello in Cyprus.In Cyprus, Iago continues to plot against Othello and Cassio. She tells of her love for Othello, and the marriage stands. The Senators wish to send Othello to Cyprus, which is under threat from Turkey. Before the Venetian Senate, Brabantio accuses Othello of bewitching Desdemona. Othello has promoted Cassio, not Iago, to be his lieutenant.Iago crudely informs Brabantio, Desdemona’s father, that Othello and Desdemona have eloped. Entire Play In Venice, at the start of Othello, the soldier Iago announces his hatred for his commander, Othello, a Moor.You are cold, my girl, cold like your chastity, which never gave in to the heat of desire. Where could Othello run to? Do you see how you look now? Oh, you woman with an unlucky fate, as pale as your white nightgown! When we meet on Judgment Day, this look of yours will throw my soul out of heaven and into hell, where devils will snatch it. You could strike at me with nothing more than a reed, and I'd draw back. Are you backing off, frightened? You have nothing to fear. This is the end of my journey, the end of the rope, and my final destination. Don't worry, even though I am carrying a weapon. But what a pointless boast that is! Who can control his fate? I can't now. I remember times when, with this little arm and good sword of mine, I made my way through obstacles more than twenty times as tough as you. A better sword has never graced a soldier's scabbard. This sorrow is like that of God, who must strike down the creatures he loves. I can't help but weep, but that is not a sign of pity. There was never anything so sweet and yet so deadly as you. If you look like this when you are dead, I will kill you and love you after. Oh, your gentle breath almost persuades Justice herself to put away her sword! One more, one more kiss. When I have plucked the rose of your life, I can't re-plant it again-it must wither. But as for you-you most artfully, excellently fashioned woman-once I put out your light, I don't know of any magical fire that can bring your life back. If I extinguish you, flame, I can light you again if I have second thoughts. ![]() Extinguish the light, and then extinguish her light. Still, she must die or else she'll betray more men. But I won't shed her blood, or scar that skin of hers that is whiter than snow and as smooth as alabaster. I won't say the reason to the chaste stars in the sky, but it is the reason. That's the reason for this, that's the reason, my soul. This sorrow’s heavenly, It strikes where it doth love. (kissing her) One more, and that’s the last. Be thus when thou art dead and I will kill thee And love thee after. Oh, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword! One more, one more. When I have plucked thy rose I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs wither. But once put out thy light, Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume. ![]() If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore Should I repent me. Put out the light, and then put out the light. ![]() Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men. Yet I’ll not shed her blood, Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow And smooth as monumental alabaster. ![]() Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars, It is the cause. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul. ![]()
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