Modern Othello: Act 1, Scene 1

Roderigo was angry. He interrupted Iago’s smooth explanation in mid flow.

‘Rubbish! I take it very unkindly that you, Iago, who have had the use of my purse as though its strings were your own, knew this was going on.’

Iago matched his tone. ‘For God’s sake!’ he snapped. ‘You won’t even listen! If I even imagined this then hate me.’

They walked along a dark canalside alley, passing beneath the stone arches that supported the wealthy houses in that part of Venice.

‘You told me you hated him,’ said Roderigo petulantly.

‘Despise me if I don’t,’ retorted Iago. ‘Three of our greatest city dignitaries approached him with a petition to make me his Lieutenant. I swear I know my value — I’m worth no less a rank. But he sweeps them aside with a bombastic beating about the bush, with a speech horribly stuffed with military language, and in conclusion, cuts the ground from under their feet.’ Putting on a deep pompous voice, Iago continued: ‘Indeed,’ says he, ‘I have already chosen my officer.’ And what was he? Believe it or not, a great theorist, one Michael Cassio, a Florentine, a fellow who’s never put a squad in the battlefield — who knows as much about war as a spinster does, apart from the theory of it that you can get from books. Our Venetian consuls in their togues can talk war with as much authority as he can. All talk and no action is the sum total of his soldiership. But he got the job. And I, who have proved myself to him at Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other battlefields both Christian and heathen, have to be cut off and put down. This clerk is about to become his Lieutenant and I — for God’s sake! — his Moorship’s Ensign.’

Roderigo nodded vigorously. ‘By heaven, I would rather be his hangman!’


‘Nothing I can do about it. It’s the curse of military service — promotion goes by favouritism and not by seniority, where you work yourself up step by step.’ Iago took Roderigo’s arm and stopped him. ‘Now, Sir,’ he said. ‘Judge for yourself whether I have any reason to love the Moor.’

‘Roderigo looked smug. ‘I wouldn’t work for him then.’

‘Oh Sir.’ Iago smiled. ‘Don’t you worry. I work for him so that I can get my own back. We can’t all be masters and not all masters can be followed. You see it all the time — dutiful, knee–crooking servants who seem to love their own humiliating slavery and go through life like donkeys for nothing more than their food. And when they’re old, they’re dumped. I’ve got no time for such honest fools.’

Iago began walking again and Roderigo followed. ‘But there are others who cultivate the illusion of duty while their minds are firmly on themselves. They only pretend to be serving their masters, do well out of it, and when they have lined their pockets, they’ve done themselves a favour. These fellows have some soul. I have to tell you that I’m one of them. As sure as you are Roderigo, if I were the Moor I would not want to be Iago. In serving him I’m only serving myself. As heaven is my judge I don’t do it for love and duty — but only seem to be doing that and it’s for my own special benefit. If my outward actions were a true reflection of what’s in my heart then I might as well wear my heart on the outside for jackdaws to peck at. I am not what I am.’

Roderigo was thinking his own thoughts. ‘What’s the thick–lips got that he can get away with this?’ he said.

‘Wake her father up,’ said Iago. ‘Let them disturb him and pursue him and spoil his pleasure. Shout his name out in the streets; get her relatives worked up, let the fertile climate he’s enjoying be plagued with flies. You can take the shine off his pleasure.’

They were outside one of the biggest houses in Venice, a smart, well cared for mansion.

‘This is her father’s house,’ said Roderigo. ‘I’ll call aloud.’

‘Do that,’ said Iago. ‘Do it loudly and urgently, as though the house were on fire.’

Roderigo cupped his hands around his mouth . ‘Hey! Brabantio. Signior Brabantio. Ho!’

Iago stepped into the shadows and took a deep breath. Then he shouted too. ‘Wake up! Hey, Brabantio! Thieves, thieves! Watch out for your house, your daughter, your goods. Thieves, thieves!’

One of the windows began to glow dimly and it opened. Brabantio’s nightcapped head emerged. ‘What’s all this noise?’ he said. ‘What’s going on down there?’

‘Signior,’ shouted Roderigo. ‘Is all your family inside?’


‘Are your doors locked?’ yelled Iago.

‘Why?’ said Brabantio. Why?’

‘By God, Sir, you’ve been robbed!’ shouted Iago. ‘Get dressed. Your heart is broken, you have lost half your soul. Right now, this very moment, an old black ram is tupping your white ewe. Get up, get up, wake up the sleeping citizens with the bell, or else the devil will make a grandfather of you. Get up!’

Brabantio stuck his head out further. ‘What? Are you mad?’

‘Signior, do you recognise my voice?’ said Roderigo.

‘No. Who are you?’

‘My name is Roderigo.’

‘Not you! I’ve told you not to hang around this house. To be blunt, you’ve heard me say my daughter is not for you. And now, crazed, bloated with food and drink, you’ve come here in your drunkenness to disturb my peace.’

‘Sir, Sir, Sir.’

‘But I’m telling you that with my determination and my position I have the power to make you regret this.’

‘Calm down, good sir.’

‘What do you mean — robbery? This is Venice. This isn’t a country house!’

‘With respect, I’ve come to you in all honesty…’

Iago, who had been following the exchange, now intervened. ‘By God’s wounds, Sir, you’re a man who wouldn’t serve God even if the devil told you to! You think we’re ruffians when we’ve come to do you a favour. You’d rather have your daughter covered by an African horse. You’d rather have your nephews neigh at you. You want coursers as you cousins and Spanish horses as your family!’

‘What kind of crude wretch are you?’

‘I am someone who has come to tell you that your daughter and the Moor are at this moment making the beast with two backs.’


‘You’re a villain!’

‘And you’re a senator.’

Brabantio shook his fist at the darkness below. ‘I know you, Roderigo. You’ll answer for this.’

‘Sir,’ said Roderigo. ‘I’ll answer for anything. But I beg you, if this is something you want and have given your consent to, as I almost believe you have, — your beautiful daughter, taken at this late hour by a common gondolier to the disgusting embrace of a lecherous Moor — if you know about it and you’ve agreed to it, then we’ve done you a bold and unforgivable wrong. But if you don’t know about it, I think you’ve done us a wrong. Don’t think that I’m the kind of person who would play games with a man like you. I insist, your daughter — if you haven’t given her permission — has seriously rebelled. She’s given her allegiance, her beauty, her intelligence and her fortune away in the most unintelligible way. Go and see. If she’s in her room, or anywhere in your house use all your power against me for deluding you.’

Brabantio withdrew and they heard him shouting orders as he rushed away. ‘Light the lamps! Give me a candle, wake my people up! This is like the dream I had. I know it’s true. Light, I say, Light!’

Iago turned. ‘I must go,’ he said. ‘It would be unwise, considering my position, to be turned over to the Moor, and I know that if I stay I will be, because the senate can’t do anything to him, however much this may annoy and inconvenience him. That’s because he’s about to be sent to the Cyprus wars that they’re planning right now. They hate to have to use him but there’s no–one else of his ability to lead their business. So, although I hate him as much as I hate all the torments of hell I have to make a pretence of love. But it’s only a pretence. To be sure of finding him, lead them to the Sagitarry Inn and I’ll be there with him. So. Goodbye.’

He slipped away just as Brabantio came out of his front door, in his nightgown, surrounded by men with torches. He whimpered like a wounded child: ‘It’s too true and evil, she’s gone, and all I have to look forward to for the rest of my wretched life is bitterness.’ The torches lit up the waiting Roderigo.

Brabantio gripped the front of his coat and looked pleadingly at him. ‘Roderigo, where did you see her? Oh, poor girl! With the Moor did you say? Who would choose to be a father? How do you know it was her? Oh, she has deceived me beyond belief. What did she say to you?’ He turned his head. ‘Get more lights! Wake all my relatives up!’ His eyes returned to Roderigo and searched his face. ‘Do you think they’re married?’

‘I really do think they are,’ said Roderigo.


‘Oh God! How did she get out? Oh rebellious blood! Fathers, from now on don’t judge your daughters’ intentions on how they behave. Aren’t there spells by which young men and women can be abused? Have you read about such things Roderigo?’

‘Yes, Sir, indeed I have.’

Brabantio thrust his head back and shouted, ‘Go and get my brother,’ then back to Roderigo. ‘Oh I wish you had had her. One way or another. Do you know where we can apprehend her and the Moor?’

‘I think I can find him if you would like to get reinforcements and come with me.’

‘Go on, then, lead the way. I’ll call at every house: I have supporters at most of them.’

Roderigo started walking.

‘Get weapons!’ roared Brabantio. Go on. And get the nightwatch. On, good Roderigo. I’ll reward your trouble.’

He hurried after Roderigo.

Modern Othello: Act 1, Scene 2

Iago had sent a serving man to call Othello out of the inn and now he was briefing the General on the latest developments.‘ Although I’ve killed men in war, as a matter of conscience I wouldn’t deliberately murder anyone. Sometimes I think I don’t have enough bad in me to do myself any good. I wanted to stab him here between the ribs about nine or ten times,’ he said.

‘It’s better that that you didn’t,’ the General told him.

‘No!’ said Iago. ‘He went on and on and said such disgusting, provocative things about you, so much so that with my lack of godliness I found it difficult to stop myself.’

When Othello said nothing he continued.

‘But tell me Sir, did you get married? Because one thing you can be sure of is that the Magnifico is very popular and can command at least twice as many votes as the Duke can. He will dissolve the marriage or penalise you as much as the law, with all his ability to enforce it, will allow him to.’

‘Let him do his worst,’ said Othello. ‘My record of service to the senate will contradict his complaints. That record is something I haven’t yet revealed: I would only talk about it if I thought that boasting was a virtue. I come from a royal line and I’ve earned the position I’ve reached. You should know, too, Iago, except that I love gentle Desdemona, I would never have risked my freedom for all the sea’s worth. But look there. What are those lights coming this way?’

‘That’s the father and his friends,’ said Iago. ‘You’d better go inside.’

‘Not I,’ said Othello. ‘I have to face them. Everything about me, and my clear conscience, will show me to be in the right. Is it them?’

‘By Janus, I don‘t think it is,’ said Iago as the men, carrying torches, came closer.


‘Those are the Duke’s men. And my Lieutenant!’ said Othello. ‘Good evening, friends, what’s up?’

Michael Cassio shook his hand. ‘The Duke sends his compliments, General, and desires your immediate attendance. Right now.’

‘What do you think it’s about?’

‘Some news from Cyprus, as far as I can gather. It’s a matter of some urgency. The fleet has sent a dozen messengers one after the other, all on top of each other. Many of the consuls have got up and gathered together, and they’re at the Duke’s already. They’ve been frantically looking for you and when you weren’t at your lodging they sent about three separate parties to search for you.’

‘Well I’m glad it was you who found me,’ said Othello. I have some business in the inn and then ‘I’ll go with you.’

When he had gone Cassio turned to Iago. ‘Ensign, what’s he doing here?’

Iago grinned. ‘He’s boarded a well–stocked ship tonight and if he can get away with it he’s made forever.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Cassio.

‘He’s married.’

‘Who to?’

‘Why, to…’ Iago stopped as Othello came through the door. ‘Come on Captain,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

More men with torches were approaching.

‘Another party looking for you,’ said Cassio.

When they were near Iago stopped Othello with a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s Brabantio, General. Be careful, he’s dangerous.’

‘Stop there,’ Othello called.

Roderigo was at the front of the oncoming group, walking at Brabantio’s side. ‘Signor,’ he said. ‘It’s the Moor.’

‘Bring him down,’ yelled Brabantio. ‘Thief!’

Iago stepped in front of Othello and drew his sword. ‘You, Roderigo,’ he said. ‘Come on, I am for you.’


Roderigo understood the pretence and drew his sword too, but before he could find out how such a situation was going to be resolved Othello came between them.

‘Keep your bright swords up,’ he said, ‘or the dew will rust them.’ He took a few steps towards Brabantio. ‘Good Signor,’ he said. ‘You have more authority with your age and wisdom than with your weapons.’

Brabantio went right up to the General and thrust his chin out. ‘Oh you foul thief!’ he said. ‘Where have you hidden my daughter? Devil that you are, you’ve put a spell on her. It’s obvious that such a young, beautiful and happy girl, one who was so opposed to marriage that she even avoided the most wealthy and handsome young men in Venice, would never run away to the sooty embrace of such a thing as you unless she had been bound in chains of magic — a thing to be afraid of, not delighted in. I’m convinced that the only thing that makes sense is that you’ve cast an evil spell on her and taken advantage of her youth by plying her with drugs or poisons to paralyse her. I’ll dispute it and I’ll win. I’m therefore arresting you and taking you into custody for being an abuser and for illegally practicing witchcraft..’ He pointed to two burly servants. ‘Take hold of him. If he resists, restrain him even if you have to do it by force.’

The men started forward but Othello didn’t move. Iago had drawn his sword again and was threatening the servants. Othello put his hand up and spoke calmly. ‘Wait. Those on my side and the others. When I have to fight I know it without anyone telling me. Where would you like me to go to answer to this charge?’

Brabantio snorted. ‘To prison, until the court is ready to call you for trial.’

‘What if I obey?’ said Othello, still speaking calmly. ‘What will the Duke say? His messengers are right here — come on state business — to take me to him.’

One of the Duke’s officers nodded. ‘It’s true, most worthy signor. The

Duke’s in council and I’m sure you’ve been sent for too.’

‘What?’ said Brabantio. ‘The Duke in council?’ At this time of night? Take him anyway. My cause isn’t an idle one. The Duke himself, or any of his brothers of the state, couldn’t do anything else but feel this wrong as though it were their own, because if such actions were allowed our statesmen would all become slaves and pagans.’

But no–one dared lay hands on Othello and both groups set off for the palace together.

Modern Othello: Act 1, Scene 3

The council chamber was brightly lit and the Duke and his senators sat at a conference table.

The Duke indicated the pile of documents spread across the table. ‘There’s no consistency in this news that could give it any credit.’

One of the senators held up a letter. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.’

‘And mine a hundred and forty,’ said the Duke.

‘And mine, two hundred,’ said another senator. ‘And although they don’t agree, and where there are explanations they differ, they all confirm a Turkish fleet advancing on Cyprus.’

‘Yes, said the Duke. ‘It’s clear enough. Even though they disagree in the details the main message is worryingly clear.’

There was an urgent banging on the door. An officer opened it and announced another messenger from the fleet.

‘What news?’ said the Duke.

‘Signor Angelo sent me to report that the Turkish fleet is making for Rhodes,’ the messenger told them.

When the messenger had left the Duke looked round the table. ‘What do you make of this change?’ he said.

‘It’s impossible,’ one of the senators said. ‘It doesn’t make sense. It’s a bluff to mislead us. Consider the importance of Cyprus to the Turks and think about how much more it concerns the Turks than Rhodes does, and also how less well defended it is than Rhodes — in fact, it’s almost completely without defences. If you think about it, the Turks are not so stupid as to leave the more important target till later and go for the more difficult and perilous first, particularly when there’s nothing in it for them.’


‘No,’ the Duke said. ‘I’m sure they’re not going for Rhodes.’

The officer at the door announced another messenger who told them that the Ottoman fleet, sailing towards Rhodes, had been joined by another fleet.

‘I thought so,’ said the Duke. ‘How many do you think there are?’

‘Thirty,’ the messenger said. ‘And now they’re doubling back and quite openly sailing towards Cyprus.’

‘That’s it then,’ said the Duke. ‘It’s Cyprus. Where’s Marcus Luccicos? Isn’t he in town?’

‘He’s in Florence,’ one of the senators said.

‘Write from me. Tell him to come immediately.’

The door opened.

‘Here’s Brabantio and the valiant Moor,’ the senator said.

Brabantio and Othello came in, followed by Iago, Roderigo and the officers.

The Duke got up and escorted Othello to the table. ‘We have to send you urgently to deal with the enemy, the Ottomans. Ah, Brabantio, I didn’t see you. Welcome dear Signor. We missed your help and advice tonight.’

‘And I missed yours,’ said Brabantio. ‘Forgive me, your Grace. Neither state business nor my position as a senator has brought me here. Nor has the

present situation gripped me, because my own grief is of such an overwhelming nature that it engulfs everything else.’

‘Why?’ said the Duke. ‘What’s the matter?’

Brabantio thrust his head into his hands. ‘My daughter! Oh, my daughter!’

The Duke put an arm around him. ‘Dead?’

‘To me she is. She’s been abused, stolen from me and corrupted by spells and medicines bought from charlatans. Without witchcraft nature couldn’t have gone so wrong considering that she’s not stupid, blind or paralysed.’


‘Whoever has used these foul methods to influence your daughter and take her from you will be judged by you personally with whatever sentence seems right to you. Yes, even if he were my own son.’

‘I respectfully thank your Grace. Here is the man. This Moor who, now it seems, you’ve brought here on special state business.’

The senators muttered, expressing shock and regret.

The Duke sighed. ‘What do you have to say about this, Othello?’

Before Othello could answer Brabantio said: ‘There’s nothing he can say. It’s a fact.’

Othello stood up and the room went quiet.

‘Most powerful, grave and revered signors,’ he began. ‘My very noble and good masters. It’s true that I have taken this old man’s daughter away. It’s true that I’ve married her. That’s the beginning and end of my offence. No more than that. I’m not a good speaker and not blessed with the soft words of diplomatic speech because, since the age of seven these arms have been employed in fighting wars. I can’t discuss any of the affairs of the world apart from those concerning feats of war, and so I won’t be able to help myself much by speaking on my own behalf. Nevertheless, with your patience I will deliver the plain, blunt story of the course of my love — what drugs, charms, magic I used for the crime I’m charged with, to win his daughter.’

Brabantio, unable to contain his frustration, interrupted. ‘A modest young girl. So calm and reserved that any act of hers made her blush. And she, in spite of her reticent nature, her age, her country, her history, everything, to fall in love with what she feared to look at! Such flawed judgment breaks all the laws of nature and forces us to look for evil practices to explain why it should happen. I’m therefore telling you again that he made her take a powerful drug or some such thing.’

‘Just to accuse him is not proof,’ said the Duke. ‘Without specific evidence, something more than suppositions and improbabilities that contradict modern times, he can’t be condemned.’

‘But you tell us, Othello,’ a senator said. ‘Did you poison this young girl’s feelings with devious and imposed practices? Or did it come about by the free and open ways appropriate between two people?’

‘I beg of you,’ said Othello, ‘send someone to the Sagittary for the lady and let her talk about me in front of her father. If she says anything that suggests I’m foul then don’t only take away your trust in me and the position I hold but even sentence me to death.’

The Duke gave instructions. ‘Bring Desdemona here.’


Othello nodded towards Iago. ‘Ensign, take them there,’ he said. ‘You know where it is.’

When Iago and some of the officers had left Othello continued.

‘And while we’re waiting, as sincerely as I admit the vices of my blood, I’ll tell you honestly how this beautiful lady fell in love with me and I with her.’

‘Tell us, Othello,’ said the Duke.

‘Her father liked me,’ said Othello. ‘He often invited me to his house, questioned me about my life — the battles, sieges, all the things that have happened to me. I told him everything, from my childhood to the present. I told him about the misfortunes, the accidents on water and land, of hairbreadth escapes from death, of being taken captive by the enemy and sold into slavery and of how I got away from that. I told him where I had travelled. He wanted to know about those vast caves and silent deserts, about the rough stony places, the rocks and mountains. That’s how it went. And of the cannibals that eat each other, and the Anthrapophagi, and men whose heads grow beneath their shoulders.

‘Desdemona loved listening too. Every now and then her household duties would drag her away but she came back as soon as she could and listened hungrily. Seeing that, one day I chose a convenient time to talk to her and she begged me to tell her the parts of the story that she had missed. I agreed, and found that she often wept when I spoke of some distressing episode in my youth. When I had told the full story she responded with a world of sighs. She exclaimed that it was a strange story, a very strange story, that it was sad, very sad. She wished that she hadn’t heard it, but she wished that she had been a man so that she could have had such adventures. She thanked me and told me that if I had a friend who loved her I should teach him how to tell my story and that would win her heart. On that hint I spoke out. She loved me for the dangers I had experienced and I loved her for pitying them. That is the only witchcraft I have used.’

The door was opened again and Desdemona stood there.

‘There she is,’ said Othello, as Iago led her forward to stand before the Duke. ‘Let her tell you.’

The Duke waved to Desdemona to be seated. He turned to Brabantio. ‘I think this story would win my daughter too,’ he said ‘Good Brabantio, why don’t you make the best of a bad job? Broken weapons are better than bare hands in battle.’


‘Please,’ said Brabantio, ‘listen to her. If she tells you that she takes half the blame for this then I’ll accept it.’ He drew his chair closer to Desdemona’s. ‘Come here, my darling,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘Can you see the person to whom you most owe obedience in this room?’

Desdemona gently removed her hand from his and stood up. ‘My noble father,’ she began. ‘I have a divided loyalty.’ Then she took his hand again. ‘I’m indebted to you for my life and education, and both my life and my education have taught me to respect you. I am still your daughter and I still have a duty to you.’ She turned and smiled at Othello and took his hand too. ‘But this is my husband,’ she said. ‘And just as my mother assumed a duty to you, putting you before her father, I have done the same, giving my duty to the Moor.’

‘God be with you then,’ said Brabantio. ‘I give up. If you don’t mind, Your Grace, let’s get on with state affairs.’ He wiped a tear from his cheek. ‘I’d rather adopt a child than have my own. Come here, Moor,’ he said. He placed Desdemona’s hand in Othello’s and spoke in a businesslike way. ‘I give you with all my heart that which if you didn’t have it already, I would with all my heart have kept from you.’ Then to Desdemona: ‘As for you, Precious, I’m really glad I don’t have any other children because this would have made me so strict that I would have immobilised them with wooden blocks on their legs.’ He sat down. ‘I’ve finished, my Lord.’

The Duke pulled himself up and drew a line under the matter with a final word, telling them that he agreed with Brabantio that as there was nothing anyone could do about it there was no point in bearing grudges: that would just make matters worse. To harbour grudges was the way to the destruction of one’s own life.

When he had finished Brabantio nodded. ‘I suggest, with respect, that we get on with the affairs of state.’

The Duke cleared his throat and looked around at the assembled senators. ‘The Turks, heavily armed, are making towards Cyprus. Othello, you have the best knowledge of the defences of Cyprus, and although we have a very effective man there, everyone knows that you’re more suitable. You must therefore accept that you have to interrupt your new condition with this more difficult and public expedition.’

Othello nodded his agreement. ‘The tyranny of habit, esteemed Senators, has made the hard and uncomfortable couch of war a soft bed for me. I acknowledge the prompt and natural liking I have for the hardness of war, and I accept this mission against the Ottomites. I ask, therefore, that you will offer my wife an appropriate place to live — some place that would suit her position.’

‘At her father’s perhaps,’ said the Duke.

‘I don’t want that,’ said Brabantio.

‘Neither do I,’ said Othello.


‘Nor I,’ said Desdemona. ‘I don’t want to live there, where my father could be hurt by my presence. My gracious Duke, listen to my idea and see if you can agree to it.’

‘What do you want?’ said the Duke. ‘Tell me.’

‘I’ve shown the whole world that, in spite of the problems it’s caused, I love the Moor enough to live with him. My heart is his entirely. I became aware of Othello’s qualities and dedicated my soul and my future to him. So, dear Senators, if I were to be left behind while he goes to war, I would be deprived of all the things I love him for and it would be very hard for me to be without him. Let me go with him.’

‘Give her your permission,’ said Othello. ‘Heaven knows, I’m not asking because I want to satisfy my appetite, not at all for my own desires — those youthful things having faded, — but to be generous to her wishes. And heaven forbid that you should think that I would neglect this serious and important business if she were with me. No, when the light pleasures of love dull my professional faculties, when my mind is distracted by sexual dalliance, then it’s time for housewives to make a saucepan of my brain and for my reputation to be eroded.’

The Duke nodded his approval. ‘Decide between yourselves whether she should stay or go. But this business is urgent and we must move fast. You must leave tonight.’

‘Tonight?’ Desdemona was taken aback.

‘Yes, tonight.’

‘Of course,’ said Othello.

The Duke got up. ‘We’ll meet again at nine in the morning. Othello, leave an officer here and he’ll bring your orders to you, along with other matters of business that concern you.’

‘My ensign, my Lord,’ said Othello. ‘He’s honest and trustworthy. He can bring my wife and anything else your grace may want to send to me.’

‘So be it,’ said the Duke. ‘Good night to everyone. And Brabantio, if virtue is anything to go by, your son–in–law is far more fair than black.’

The senators wished Othello luck and one of them told him to take care of Desdemona. Brabantio stopped him as he was leaving. ‘Watch out for her, Moor, if you have eyes to see,’ he said. ‘She has deceived her father and may deceive you too.’

‘I would stake my life on her fidelity,’ Othello told him, and the two men parted as the Duke and senators left.

‘Honest Iago,’ said Othello. ‘I’m leaving my Desdemona in your care. Your wife can look after her. Bring them both to Cyprus in the best comfort you can manage. Come Desdemona, I’ve got just one hour to spend with you and to prepare. We must hurry.’

When they had gone Roderigo, who had watched everything with dismay, shook his head. ‘Iago?’

‘What, my dear friend?’

‘What do you think I should do?’

‘Go to bed and sleep, of course.’

‘I’m going to drown myself.’

Iago laughed. ‘You silly man. If you do that I’ll never respect you again!’

Roderigo slumped down and put his head in his hands. ‘It would be silly to live when life is such a torment,’ he said. ‘Death would be the best medicine right now.’

‘How wrong can you be?’ said Iago. I’ve lived for twenty–eight years and ever since the time I could tell the difference between a good and a bad act I’ve never met anyone who could properly value himself. I would rather be a baboon than a man who would drown himself for the love of a whore.’

‘What should I do then? I confess that it’s shameful to be so foolish but there’s nothing I can do about it.’

‘Rubbish! What we can do, how we are, is up to ourselves. Our bodies are our gardens and our wills are gardeners. If we plant nettles or sow lettuce, whether we cultivate hyssop or weed out thyme, plant all one kind of herb or dilute it with many kinds, let it become sterile or fertilise it with hard work, all this depends on what we want to do. If the balance of our lives didn’t have a weight of reason to set against those weights of sensuality, the blood and natural bad that we have in our natures would take us to the most preposterous depths. But we do have reason to cool our raging emotions, our carnal desires and our unbridled lusts, which I take this — that you call love — to be.’

Roderigo looked up at him pathetically and shook his head slowly. ‘It can’t be.’

Iago laughed and pulled him to his feet. ‘It’s nothing more than a lust of the blood and a self indulgence of your will. Come on, be a man. Drown yourself? Drown cats and puppies. I have declared myself your friend and I tell you that I’m committed to your cause. I could never advise you better than I do now. Put some money in your purse and follow these wars. Disguise yourself, get a false beard. Go on, put money in your purse. It’s impossible that Desdemona could continue her love for the Moor for long. Put money in your purse. Nor could he love her for long. It was begun badly and you will see a separation. But put money in your purse. These Moors are changeable. Fill your purse with money. The food that is now as delicious as carob cobs to him will soon be as bitter tasting as crab apples. She will soon want someone young. When she’s had enough of his body she will see her mistake. So put money in your purse. If you want to damn yourself do it in a more subtle way than drowning. Make as much money as you can. If a sanctimonious manner and a feeble vow between a barbarian and a vulnerable Venetian isn’t too hard for my intelligence and all the evil I can muster, you’ll enjoy her yet, so therefore make money. To hell with drowning yourself. It’s totally out of the question. You would be better off being hanged for realising your dream than being drowned and not having her.’

Roderigo’s hopefulness showed in his face. ‘If I depend on you will you do it for me?’

‘You can rely on me,’ said Iago. ‘Go and make money. I’ve often told you and I tell you again and again: I hate the Moor. My cause is deeply felt and yours has as much value. Let’s work together in our revenge against him. If you can cuckold him you’ll be getting pleasure and I’ll have some fun. There are a lot of things we can do, and which we will do. About turn. Go and get your money. We’ll talk again tomorrow. Good bye.’

‘Where will we meet in the morning?’

‘At my lodging.’

‘I’ll be there.’

‘Yes. Goodbye.’

Roderigo walked to the door and Iago called after him. ‘Roderigo!’

Roderigo turned. ‘What?’

‘No more talk of drowning, do you hear?’

‘I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Fine. Good bye. Put enough money in your purse.’

‘I’ll sell all my land,’ said Roderigo as he left.

Iago waited a moment and then began walking home. He smiled grimly. As usual he was getting money out of fools. As if he would lower himself to spend time with such a pathetic individual unless he was having some fun and getting money out of it as well. As he walked he felt his hatred of the Moor well up. And he had heard that the Moor had been with his wife Emilia. He didn’t know whether it was true but he would take that hint of suspicion as a fact. He stood in high regard with the General and that would help his purpose. He began to plan his revenge. Cassio was a good looking man. He thought about that. How could he get Cassio’s position of Lieutenant and get his revenge on the Moor at the same time? How?…How?… A strategy was developing in his mind. After a while, when they were settled in, be would make Othello think that Cassio was too familiar with Desdemona. Cassio was a handsome man with the charm and personality that could easily make women unfaithful. On the other hand the Moor had an open and trusting nature, thinking men are honest when they only seem to be so, and could be led by the nose as easily as a donkey.

Just as he got to his door he realised that he had his plan. It was born. He realised, too, that he had deliberately chosen evil.

Modern Othello: Act 2, Scene 1

Montano, the young governor of Cyprus, was looking out of a window of his quarters in the castle. The wind blew violently and the grey sea raged. The two men he had sent to see whether there was any sign of the Turkish fleet came in to report their findings.

‘Nothing at all,’ the first one said. ‘The waves are very high. I can’t see a sail anywhere between the sky and the sea.’

‘The wind is deafening here on the land,’ said Montano. ‘I’ve never known a blast that has so badly shaken our battlements. If it’s hitting the sea this powerfully what oak ribs can hold together when mountains seem to be melting? What do you think is happening out there?’

The other man said: ‘I think it means a separation of the Turkish fleet. Just go and stand on the shore. The wind seems to be battering the clouds. The waves are so high and monstrous that they look as though they’re drenching the stars and putting their light out. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘The Turkish fleet have either taken shelter or they’ve drowned,’ said Montano. ‘It’s impossible that they could survive this.’

The door burst open and another man, his face lit up with joy, rushed in. ‘News lads!’ he shouted. ‘Our wars are over. The desperate storm has bashed the Turks so severely that their expedition is in ruins. One of our ships from Venice has seen the terrible devastation of most of their fleet.’

‘What?’ said Montano. ‘Really?’

‘The ship is here, docked. A Veronesian, Michael Cassio, Lieutenant of the Moor, Othello, has disembarked. The Moor is himself at sea and is on his way, with a full commission here in Cyprus.’

‘I’m glad,’ said Montano. ‘He’s a good general.’


‘But although Cassio brings comforting news regarding the Turks he looks unhappy and prays that the Moor is safe. They were separated by the terrible storm.’

‘Pray heaven he is,’ said Montano. I have served with him and he commands like the complete soldier.’ Montano sprang up. ‘Come on!’ he said. Let’s go down to the harbour. To greet the ship that’s just come in as well as to watch for the arrival of Brave Othello, and stay there until the storm ends.’

The four men rushed out and went to the dock. Cassio was there, busying himself with the various tasks he had to perform as leader of the expedition. They welcomed him warmly.

‘Thank you,’ said Cassio. ‘Oh, heaven defend the Moor from the elements. I lost him on a dangerous sea.’

‘Is his ship sound?’ said Montano.

‘It’s very strong and his pilot is experienced and expert, so my hopes are high,’ said Cassio.

There was some shouting. ‘What’s that? said Cassio.

One of Montano’s party told him that all the townsfolk had come out and were standing on the cliff–top and they were shouting ‘a sail, a sail.’

‘I think that must be the General,’ said Cassio.

There was a salvo of gunfire.

‘That’s a welcome,’ said one of the group. ‘It’s a friendly ship at least.’

‘Would you mind going and finding out and tell us who it is?’ said Cassio.

There was a new mood among those standing there. Montano smiled. ‘But tell me Lieutenant,’ said Montano. ‘Is your general married?’

‘Very well married,’ said Cassio. ‘She’s a young woman who defies description and exaggeration. You wouldn’t be able to find words and you’d be exhausted if you tried.’

The man who had gone to find out whose ship it was returned. ‘Well?’ said Cassio. ‘Who’s arrived?’

‘It’s one Iago, ensign to the General,’ the man told him.


‘He’s done well,’ said Cassio. ‘Even the storms themselves, the high seas and the howling winds, the jagged rocks and the shifted sands, those traitors that are there to wreck innocent ships, as though having a sense of beauty, have defied their murderous natures to let the divine Desdemona pass by in safety.’

‘Who is she?’ said Montano.

‘The one I told you about,’ said Cassio, as they watched the ship enter the bay. ‘Our great Captain’s captain, placed in the care of the bold Iago, who’s arrived a week before I had anticipated.’ Cassio looked up at the sky. ‘Great Jove protect Othello. Swell his sails with your own powerful breath so that he will bless this bay with his tall ship, fall into Desdemona’s loving arms, raise our exhausted spirits and bring comfort to Cyprus.’

They watched the ship drop its anchor and a small boat set off with its passengers.

‘Oh look,’ said Cassio, as he recognised Iago, Desdemona and Emilia among the passengers. ‘The riches of the ship are coming ashore.’ And as he helped Desdemona out of the boat: ‘You men of Cyprus kneel down. Welcome, Lady. And the grace of heaven encompass you.’

‘Thank you, valiant Cassio,’ said Desdemona. ‘What news do you have of my husband?’

‘He hasn’t arrived yet and I know nothing except that he’s well and will be here soon.’

‘Oh but I’m afraid!’ she said. ‘How did you get separated?’

‘The storm parted us,’ he told her.

There was another cry from the people on the cliff–top.

‘But listen,’ said Cassio. ‘A ship.’

‘A welcome again,’ one of the gentlemen said. ‘This is also a friend.’

‘Go,’ said Cassio. ‘Find out.’ He turned back to the arrivals and shook hands with Iago. ‘Good Ensign, you are welcome.’ And to Emilia: ‘Welcome mistress. I beg your pardon, good Iago. I hope you won’t mind if I extend my courtesy…’ planting a kiss on Emilia’s cheek, ‘The way I was brought up makes me greet her like this.’

Iago laughed loudly. ‘Sir, if she gave you as much of her lips as she gives me of her tongue you’d have enough!’

Desdemona laughed. ‘Alas,’ she said, ‘she’s speechless.’

‘Unusual,’ said Iago. ‘She usually talks too much. I find that mainly when I’m trying to sleep. Of course, in front of your ladyship she holds her tongue somewhat and reprimands with her thoughts instead.’


Emilia pulled a face at him. ‘That’s not true.’

‘Come on, come on,’ said Iago. ‘You women are silent in company, noisy in your own homes, saints when you’re injured, devils when offended, idle in your housewifery and hussies in your beds.’

‘Shame on you, slanderer!’ said Desdemona, laughing.

‘No, it’s true, or else I’m a Turk. ‘You get up to play and go to bed to work.’

‘You won’t say anything nice about me, will you?’ said Emilia.

‘No, I won’t,’ said Iago.

‘What would you say about me if you were to praise me?’ said Desdemona.

‘Oh dear lady, don’t ask me. I can only be critical.’

‘Try,’ said Desdemona. She looked round. ‘Has someone gone to find out about the ship?’

‘Yes, Madam,’ said Iago.

Desdemona was apprehensive but was trying to be lighthearted. ‘Come on, how would you praise me?’

‘I’m thinking about it but my power of invention is stuck. It’s pulling my brains out like birdlime. But my muse is working hard.’ He furrowed his brow and then he said. ‘Ah, I’ve got it. If she’s fair and wise — fairness and intelligence — the one’s for using and the other uses it.’

‘Well done,’ said Desdemona. ‘What if she’s black and intelligent?’

‘If she’s black and is also intelligent she’ll find a white man who’ll match her intelligence.’

‘It gets worse and worse,’ said Desdemona.

‘What if she’s fair and stupid?’ said Emilia.

‘That can’t happen,’ said Iago. If she’s fair even her folly would help her get a man.’

‘These are old stupid jokes to make fools laugh in the alehouse,’ said Desdemona. ‘What miserable praise do you have for a woman who’s ugly and stupid?’


‘There’s none so ugly and stupid as to be unable to get up to the nasty tricks that beautiful and intelligent women get up to,’ he said.

‘What ignorance!’ said Desdemona. ‘You give the most praise to the worst. But what praise could you genuinely give to a deserving woman? Someone so full of merit that she would compel the praise of pure evil itself?’

‘If she was eternally beautiful and never above herself, spoke when she wanted to and yet was never loud, always well turned out but not gaudy; controlled her desire to be selfish but still knew when it was appropriate to say that she wanted something; she who, when angry, on the brink of taking revenge, allowed her injury to remain unspoken and let her displeasure evaporate; she who never gave way to the temptation to swap a foolish husband for a handsome lover; she who could think deeply but never disclose her thoughts; who could see that men were chasing her but never look round — she would be a person if ever there was such a person…’ He paused.

‘To do what?’ said Desdemona.

‘To breastfeed fools and chronicle trivial events.’

‘Oh what a lame and feeble conclusion! Don’t take his advice, Emilia, even if he is your husband. What do you say, Cassio? Isn’t he a crude and licentious counsellor?’

‘He speaks very bluntly, Madam,’ said Cassio. He took her hand. ‘You should value him more as a soldier than as a scholar.’

She smiled at Cassio and Iago, pretending to scan the horizon, watched them. It was going well. Cassio had taken her hand, and now they were whispering together. Well done. With as little a web as that he was going to ensnare as great a fly as Cassio was. That’s right, smile down on her, do. He would tie Cassio up in this courtship. Cassio was falling into the trap. If such tricks as this were eventually to strip him of his lieutenantship it would have been better if he hadn’t kissed his three fingers so often, something he kept doing in that courtly way, playing the well bred gentleman. Ah, excellent, well kissed. And his fingers to his lips again. Iago wished, for Cassio’s sake, that they were surgical instruments.

A trumpet sounded. Iago snapped out of his thoughts and yelled: ‘The Moor! I know his trumpet.’

‘It is!’ exclaimed Cassio.

‘Let’s go and meet him!’ Desdemona was beside herself with excitement.


‘Look, there he is!’ Cassio rushed towards the group of soldiers led by Othello, and the others hurried after him.

Desdemona ran into Othello’s embrace. He kissed her and held her close. ‘Oh, my fair warrior!’ he exclaimed.

‘Oh my dear Othello,’ she said.

Othello ignored everyone and stared at Desdemona. ‘It’s wonderful to see you here before me,’ he said. ‘Oh, my soul’s joy! If such bliss comes after every storm let the winds blow till they’ve wakened the dead, and let the struggling ship climb hills of seas Olympus–high and dive again as low as hell is from heaven. If I were to die now it would be now that I would be at my happiest, for I fear that my soul has such joy that it’s impossible that the future could bring more.’

‘Heaven forbid that our love and joy should not increase as the days go by,’ said Desdemona.

‘Amen to that.’ Othello put his hand on his chest. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am. It stops me here. It’s too much joy.’ He kissed Desdemona again. ‘And let this be the greatest discord there will ever be between our hearts.’

Iago sneered inwardly. They were in harmony now. But he would slacken the strings of the lute that was making that music, as ‘honest’ as he was.

‘Come,’ said Othello. ‘Let’s go to the castle. The good news, friends, is that our wars are over; the Turks are drowned.’ Othello’s joy was evident and he talked animatedly. ‘How are my old friends of this island?’ he said. ‘Honey, they’re going to like you here. I’ve found them very friendly. Oh, my love, I’m prattling away in the most selfish way. Please, good Iago, go to the bay and supervise my luggage. Bring the ship’s captain to the citadel. He’s a good man and he deserves a lot of respect.’ He took Desdemona’s hand. ‘Come, Desdemona. Once again, a wonderful reunion at Cyprus.’

Iago was left alone with Roderigo, who had sailed to Cyprus on his ship and since the landing, had mingled unobtrusively with the crowd. Iago instructed the soldiers to meet him at the harbour and when they had gone he beckoned to Roderigo.

‘Come here. If you have any worth — as they say, when unworthy men are in love they find in themselves a nobility that transcends their nature — listen to me. The Lieutenant is in charge of the guard tonight. First, I must tell you this: Desdemona has fallen in love with him.’

Roderigo’s mouth opened. ‘With him? Impossible!’

Iago lay his finger across his mouth. ‘Put your finger like this and let your soul be instructed. Remember how violently she first loved the Moor just for bragging and telling her fantastical lies? And will she continue to love him if he carries on with that babbling? Don’t think that for a second. Her eye must be fed. And what delight will she have in looking at the devil? When the blood has been sated with sex there has to be something else to inflame it and give her lust a fresh appetite — someone attractive, of similar age, manners and beauty, all of which the Moor doesn’t have. Now, in the absence of those necessary things her youthful beauty will be wasted and she’ll be revolted and she’ll begin to be disgusted by the Moor and hate him. By the very nature of things she will be looking for a second choice. Now Sir, given that — as it is so natural — who is the obvious choice, if not Cassio? — a knave very voluble; nothing more to him than a superficial display of civility and politeness, all to fulfil his lustfulness and his hidden but real licentiousness. No–one, no–one else. A slimy, devious knave! Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and has all those requirements that foolish and inexperienced women look for. A sickening, total villain, and the woman has found him already.’

‘I can’t believe that of her,’ said Roderigo. ‘She’s full of blessedness.’

‘Blessedness? That’s a meaningless thing! The wine she drinks is made of grapes. If she had been blessed she would never have loved the Moor. Blessed? Pudding! Didn’t you see her stroke his hand? Didn’t you see that?’

‘Yes, I did, but that was just politeness.’

‘Lechery, for certain! An indication and a subtle precursor to a future of lust and foul thoughts. Their lips were so close that their breaths were embracing. Mischievous thoughts, Roderigo. When these communications begin the main business follows soon, — the physical conclusion. Tut! But Sir, lwt me guide you. I’ve brought you here from Venice. Just watch tonight — the guard duty. I’ll show you. Cassio doesn’t know you. I won’t be far away from you. Find some occasion to make him angry, either by speaking too loudly or undermining his discipline, or any other way you like, in your own time.’

Roderigo’s face showed that he didn’t much like that idea. ‘I don’t know…’

Iago interrupted him. ‘He’s very rash and easily roused to anger, and perhaps he’ll even hit you with his truncheon. Provoke him, try and get him to do it, because from that I can get the people here in Cyprus to react and insist on Cassio’s dismissal. That will be a quicker way to your desires because I will then be able to remove the obstacle, without which we wouldn’t be successful.’

Roderigo was half convinced. ‘I’ll do it if you’re sure you can take advantage of it.’

‘I guarantee it. Meet me later at the citadel. I have to bring his luggage ashore. Goodbye.’

Iago felt sure that Cassio was in love with her. And she loved him too. That was a credit to her. Even though he hated the Moor Iago had to concede

that he was noble and faithful and loving. He was also convinced that the Moor would prove to be a very dear husband for Desdemona. But he suddenly felt that he loved her too — not out of absolute lust either, although there was that as well. It was partly to feed his revenge, and the thought came again that the Moor had been in his marital bed, and he told himself that it was eating away at his insides like a poisonous substance. Nothing could or would ease his soul until he was even with him, wife for wife. Failing that he was determined to put the Moor into such a jealous state that reason wouldn’t prevail. That was if that pathetic piece of trash of Venice who he was using as a hunting dog would be able to pull it off. If he did he would have Michael Cassio on the run — poison the Moor against him. He allowed the idea that Cassio had also been with Emilia occupy him for a moment and that reinforced his determination for revenge. He would make the Moor thank him, value him and reward him for making an ass of him. He would work on his peace of mind and drive him mad. The plan was there but not yet fully formed. He wouldn’t know it properly until it was happening.

Modern Othello: Act 2, Scene 2

Othello published a proclamation announcing a celebration to mark the destruction of the Turks and his marriage to Desdemona. He ordered that the people of Cyprus.should eat and drink and indulge in any other celebratory pleasures that took their fancy, from the hour of five until the bell rang the hour of eleven.

Modern Othello: Act 2, Scene 3

Othello ended his meeting with Cassio by reminding him about the behaviour expected of a visiting army, particularly on an evening when there were going to be revellers on the streets.

‘Good Michael,’ he said. ‘Keep your eye on the guard tonight, We must set an example and not overdo it.’

‘Iago knows what to do,’ said Cassio. ‘But I’ll keep an eye on it personally.’

‘Iago is most honest,’ said Othello. ‘We’ll goodnight, Michael. I need to talk to you first thing in the morning.’ He smiled at the waiting Desdemona. ‘Come, my dear love,’ he said. ‘We’ve made the purchase; the fruits are to follow. The profit’s yet to come between me and you.’ He turned and smiled at Cassio and the other officers. ‘Goodnight.’

Iago was already in the guardroom when Cassio arrived.

‘We must attend to the guard,’ said Cassio.

‘Not yet,’ said Iago. ‘It’s not ten o’clock yet. Our general got rid of us early for the love of his Desdemona, and I don’t blame him. He hasn’t done it with her yet; and she’s sport for the gods.’

‘She’s a most exquisite lady,’ said Cassio.

‘And full of game, I’ll bet.’

‘She’s certainly a lovely, delicate creature.’

‘What an eye she has: a real come and get it look.’

‘A welcoming eye,’ said Cassio, ‘and yet very modest, I think.’

‘And when she speaks, isn’t it a signal for love?’


‘She’s certainly perfection.’

‘O well, let them enjoy it.’ Iago clapped Cassio on the back. ‘Come Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a jar of wine, and there is a brace of Cyprus lads outside who want to drink to the health of black Othello.’

‘Not tonight, Iago. I can’t take too much drink. I really wish society would invent some other form of entertainment.’

Iago sighed. ‘They’re our friends. Just one glass. I’ll do your drinking for you.’

‘I’ve already had one glass tonight,’ said Cassio, ‘and that was cunningly diluted as well; and look at the effect it’s had on me. I’m unlucky in that defect and daren’t push it with more drinking.’

Iago clapped his hands in front of Cassio’s face. ‘Come on, man, it’s a night of partying. The lads want it.’

‘Where are they?’

‘There, at the door. Go on, invite them in.’

‘I’ll do it,’ said Cassio, ‘but I don’t like it.’

Iago couldn’t believe his luck. Now if he could just make him have one glass, that, together with what he had already drunk, would make him as quarrelsome and offensive as a lapdog. And the sick fool, Roderigo, who had been turned inside out with love had drunk himself silly in toasts to Desdemona, was out there too. It was all coming together. He had made three other men of Cyprus drunk — men of high rank, the backbone of Cyprus. He would put Cassio among this flock of drunkards and induce him to commit

some act that would offend the people of Cyprus. It was all going smoothly, like a boat sailing freely with favourable winds and currents.

Cassio came back into the guardroom with Montano and some other men of Cyprus. They’d all been drinking and Cassio was holding a mug. ‘Before God, they’ve given me enough already,’ he said.

Montano, in a celebratory mood, laughed. ‘As I am a soldier, it’s a small one. Not much more than a pint.’

Iago beckoned the servants. ‘Hey, some wine here,’ he said.

They served everyone and Iago started tapping his foot, creating a rhythmic beat, then he began to sing.


‘And let me the canakin clink, clink.’ banging his mug against those of the others’ who, stamping their feet to the rhythm, put their mugs forward to him as he moved among them.
‘A soldier’s a man
Oh, man’s life but a span;
Why, then, let a soldier drink. Some wine, boys.’


Cassio was tapping and clinking and drinking with the others. His voice was slurred as he praised Iago’s singing. ‘Fore God, that’s an excellent song,’ he said.

‘I learnt it in England where they’re great boozers,’ said Iago. ‘Your Dane, your German, and your swag–bellied Hollander… Hey, more wine!… are nothing to your English.’

‘Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?’ said Cassio.

Iago beamed at him. ‘Why, he easily drinks your Dane under the table. He defeats your German without breaking sweat and he outdrinks your Hollander into vomiting before the next jug can be produced.’

Cassio raised his mug. ‘To the health of our General!’ he shouted and they all drank.

‘I’m in favour, Lieutenant,’ said Montano, ‘and I’ll match you.’

Iago raised his mug again. ‘O sweet England,’ he said, and began
singing.
‘King Stephen was and–a worthy peer
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear;
With that he called the tailor lown.
He was a wight of high renown,
And thou art but of low degree;
‘Tis pride that pulls the country down;
Then take thine old cloak about thee… More wine here!’


Cassio slapped his thigh. ‘Fore God, this is an even better song than the other!’ He took a long swig.

‘Want to hear it again?’ said Iago.

Cassio swayed. ‘No,’ he said. He squinted at Iago. ‘Because I don’t think a king who does those things is worthy of his position.’ He took another swig. ‘Oh well, God’s above everyone. And there are some souls… must be saved and… some souls… must not be saved.’

Iago’s attention was completely focused on Cassio now. ‘It’s true, good Lieutenant,’ he said.


‘For myself!’ Cassio stumbled and righted himself again. ‘No offence to the General…’ swinging round and bowing elaborately to the gentlemen of Cyprus — ‘Nor to any man of quality. I hope to be saved.’

‘And so do I, Lieutenant,’ said Iago.

Cassio prodded Iago’s chest. ‘Yes, but if you don’t mind, not before me. The Lieutenant has to be saved before the Ensign.’ He swung round to the guests. ‘Let’s have no more of this,’ he said. ‘Let’s get down to business. God forgive our sins. Gentlemen, let’s take care of our business.’

They were all staring at him. No–one said anything. Cassio drained his drink. ‘Don’t think I’m drunk, gentlemen,’ he said. He planted a heavy hand on Iago’s shoulder. ‘This is my Ensign.’ He raised his hand and stared at it. ‘This is my right hand.’ He raised the other. ‘This is my left hand. I am not drunk. I can stand well enough.’ He tried standing on one leg and gave up. ‘I can speak well enough.’ His speech was slurred.’

They all clapped and laughed and assured him that he could do those things well.

‘Very well, then,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t think, then, that I am drunk.’ He staggered towards the door and went out into the night.

Montano handed his mug to a servant. ‘To the platform, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Come, let’s set the watch.’

Iago walked with Montano. ‘You see that fellow who’s just left? He’s a soldier fit to stand beside Caesar and command Roman legions, and look at his weakness. It’s the exact opposite of his strength, each one as powerful as the other. It’s such a pity. I fear that the trust Othello has put in him, just at the time of his infirmity, will shake this island.’

‘But is he often like this?’ said Montano.

‘He does this more and more before he goes to bed. He’d stay awake around the clock if he didn’t drink himself to sleep.’

‘I think someone should tell the General. Perhaps he doesn’t know, or perhaps his good nature values the positive things in Cassio and overlooks his weaknesses. Do you think that’s it?’

Roderigo appeared out of the shadows and Iago mouthed to him to go after Cassio.

‘And,’ Montano was saying, ‘it’s a great pity that the noble Moor should risk putting someone with such a failing in the position of second in command. It would be an act of honesty to tell the Moor.’


‘Not I!’ Iago seemed shocked. ‘Not for this fair island! I’m very fond of Cassio and would do anything to cure him of this fault.’

They were interrupted by a commotion that was coming nearer. Someone was shouting … ‘help! help!’ Roderigo ran past them with Cassio, his sword out and raised, hot in pursuit. ‘You rogue! You rascal!’ Cassio shouted as he chased Roderigo.

Montano ran towards him and stopped him in his tracks. ‘What’s the matter, Lieutenant?’ he said.

Cassio’s face was red and he was out of breath. ‘A rogue like that teaching me my duty,’ he gasped. ‘I’ll beat the rascal till he looks like wicker–work. ‘

Roderigo, emboldened by the presence of Iago and Montano squared up to Cassio. ‘Beat me?’ he said.

Cassio was beside himself. ‘Are you babbling, rogue?’ and he lunged at him, striking at his face.

Montano came between them. ‘No, good Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘Stop this.’

Cassio lunged again and Montano took him in a head grip. Cassio struggled hard. ‘Let me go, Sir,’ he shouted, ‘or I’ll knock your head off.’

‘Come, come,’ said Montano, gently releasing him. ‘You’re drunk.’

‘Drunk!’ Cassio punched Montano in the face.

Iago gestured to Roderigo. ‘Get out of here,’ he hissed. ‘Make as much noise as you can. Cry mutiny.’

Roderigo ran off. Cassio and Montano were fighting and Iago tried to pull them apart. ‘’No, good Lieutenant!’ he shouted. ‘For God’s sake, gentlemen! Someone help us! Lieutenant! Sir! Montano! Sir! Help, please! This is a fine watch.’

A bell rang out.

‘Who’s ringing the bell?’ said Iago. He tried to stop the fighting again but the lieutenant and the governor were clinging to each other, each one trying to get the upper hand. ‘Your’re disturbing the town. For God’s sake, Lieutenant, stop! You’ll be shamed forever!’

He was suddenly aware that Othello was there. ‘What’s going on here?’ said the General.

Montano pulled himself away from Cassio’s grasp. ‘God’s wounds,’ he cried. ‘I’m bleeding profusely. I’m badly hurt.’ He hit Cassio again.


‘Stop, for the sake of your lives!’ said Othello.

The pair took no notice of him and Iago started pulling at Cassio. ‘Stop! Lieutenant. Sir! Montano,! Gentlemen! Have you forgotten where you are? The General is talking to you. Stop, for shame!’

When they saw Othello they stepped back and stared at him. Othello’s face showed his shock.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘How did this start? Have we become Turks that we are doing what the Ottomites’ religion has forbidden even them? For Christian shame, stop this barbarous brawl. Whichever of you moves again has no regard for his soul: he dies instantly.’ He turned to one of his attendants. ‘Silence that dreadful bell. It’s disturbing the people of the island.’

The two fighters stood, ashamed, before him. ‘What’s the matter, gentlemen?’ he said. ‘Honest Iago, you look dead with grief. Tell me. Who began this?

Iago shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding Othello’s glare.

’I order you,’ said Othello.

Iago shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘They were friends until now, until just a minute ago. In the guardroom they were like bride and groom preparing themselves for bed: and then, just a moment ago, as though some planet had taken possession of them — swords out, and tilting at each other’s chests in bloody opposition. I can’t tell you how this animosity began. I wish that I had lost the legs that have brought me here to see it in some glorious battle.’

Othello stepped forward and looked Cassio in the eyes. ‘How have you forgotten yourself like this Michael?’

Cassio avoided the General’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I can’t speak.’

Othello turned to Montano. ‘Worthy Montano,’ he said. ‘You are usually so civil. Everyone knows how mature and calm you are for your age, and you are highly thought of by the wisest men. What’s the matter that you could unravel your reputation like this to be seen as a night brawler? Answer me.’

Montano was wincing with the pain of his wounds. ‘Worthy Othello,’ he said. ‘Your officer, Iago, will tell you. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to make trouble. I don’t know of anything that I’ve said or done wrong tonight, unless self protection is a failing and to defend ourselves is a sin when we’re victims of violence.’

Othello’s patience had come to its end. No–one was prepared to tell him how this had happened. He drew himself up. ‘Now, by heaven,’ he said, ‘I’m getting angry, and I’m about to lose my temper. By God’s wounds, I’m tempted to lift this arm, and if I do, even the best of you will suffer. Tell me right now how this disgraceful fight started and who started it, and whoever it was, even if he were my twin, I will condemn him. What! In a town beset by war, still unsettled, the people living in fear, to indulge in a private and domestic quarrel, at night and in the place from which the people are being guarded! It’s monstrous. Iago, who started it?’

Montano gripped Iago’s arm. ‘If out of bias you tell anything less than the truth you are no soldier.’

All eyes were on Iago. He had to choose his words carefully. ‘Don’t think that,’ he said. ‘I would rather have my tongue cut out than that it should utter anything offensive to Michael Cassio. But I’m telling myself that the truth won’t harm him. Here it is, General. Montano and I were chatting and this fellow appeared, crying out for help, and Cassio was chasing him with his sword raised. Sir, this gentleman, Montano, steps in and begs Cassio to stop. I pursued this shouting fellow because I thought the noise would wake the town — as it did. He, running fast, got away and I went back and there was the clink and fall of swords, and Cassio was swearing, which I had never heard from him before. Then I saw them close together in combat, thrusting and hitting each other, just as they were doing when you yourself parted them. I can’t tell you any more about it. But men are what they are. Even the best sometimes forget themselves. Although Cassio did some wrong to Montano, as men in a rage sometimes strike those who wish them no harm… I suppose Cassio was insulted by the fellow who ran away — in a way that he couldn’t tolerate.’

‘I know, Iago,’ said Othello, ‘your honesty makes you mince this matter, putting a better light on Cassio.’ He went and stood in front of Cassio and looked sternly at him. ‘Cassio, I love you, but you can’t be my officer any more.’

Desdemona arrived just then, attended by some soldiers and a group of women. Othello stretched his hand out to her.

‘Look, you’ve even disturbed my gentle love,’ he told Casssio. ‘I’m going to make an example of you.’

‘What’s the matter, dear?’ she said.

‘All is well now, Sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Come, let’s go to bed.’ He turned to Montano. ‘Sir, I will do everything I can to make amends.’

Montano groaned and clutched his head. His friends led him away.

Othello took Desdemona’s hand. ‘Iago,’ he said. ‘Go and sort it out with the citizens. Calm those who have been disturbed. Come Desdemona, this is the life of a soldier — being woken up because of trouble.’

When they had gone only Iago and Cassio were left. Cassio sank his head into his hands and sat, unmoving. Iago touched his shoulder but there was no response.

‘What! Are you hurt, Lieutenant?’

‘Yes,’ said Cassio. ‘Past all surgery.’

‘No! God forbid!’ said Iago.

Cassio didn’t look up. His head moved slowly from side to side. ‘Reputation, reputation, reputation,’ he said. ‘Oh, I have lost my reputation. I have lost my soul and what I’m left with is bestial.’ He looked up at Iago. His eyes were wet. ‘My reputation, Iago, my reputation,’ he said mournfully.

Iago affected a sigh of relief. ‘As I am an honest man I thought you had received some physical wound,’ he said. ‘That would be far more serious than a wounded reputation. Reputation is a useless and false concept, often gained without merit and lost without deserving. You haven’t lost your reputation — it’s all in your mind.’ He lifted Cassio’s face and looked into his eyes. ‘Come on man, there are ways of re–establishing yourself with the General. You’re a victim of the moment — it’s more of a diplomatic punishment, to set an example, than a permanent one, like beating an inoffensive dog to intimidate a fierce lion. Go to him and he’ll forgive you.’

‘I would rather beg him to despise me than to impose such a pathetic, drunken, indiscreet officer on such a good commander. Drunk! And talk nonsense! And fight! Swagger! Swear! And talk rubbish to myself! Oh, you invisible evil of wine. If there was no other name to call you we could call you devil.’

‘Who was that man you chased with your sword?’ said Iago. What did he do to you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘It it possible?’

‘I can remember lots of this, but nothing clearly: a quarrel but not the cause of it. Oh God, that men should put such an enemy in their mouths to steal their brains! That we should with happiness, pleasure, partying and celebration transform ourselves into beasts!’

‘But you’re sober now,’ said Iago. ‘How did you make such a good recovery?’

‘Drunkenness has given way to anger. One imperfection leads to another to make me despise myself.

‘Come, you’re too hard on yourself. Given the time and the place I heartily wish this hadn’t happened, but since things are as they are, make the best of it in your own interest.’

Cassio’s shoulders slumped even further. ‘Oh yes, I’ll ask him for my place again: he’ll tell me I’m a drunkard. Even if I had as many mouths as Hydra such an answer would shut them all. To be a sensible man at one moment, and then a fool, and eventually a beast! Oh, strange! Every ill–advised cup is cursed and the contents are a devil!’

Iago laughed. ‘Come, come; good wine is a good friend if it isn’t abused. Don’t run it down.’

Cassio shook his head in misery.

‘Good Lieutenant, I think you know I’m your friend.’

‘I know that,’ said Cassio. ‘Me! Drunk!’

‘You, like any man, may be drunk from time to time. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Our General’s wife is now the General. I say that because he’s besotted with her, given himself over to his fantasies about her body and her charms. Speak openly to her. Beg her to help you get your post back. She is so liberal, so kind, so competent, of such a blessed nature that she would consider it a sin not to do that for you. This breach between you and her husband — beg her to heal it. And I will bet everything I have that your relationship with him will become even stronger than it was before.’

‘You’re giving me good advice,’ said Cassio.

‘I have faith in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.’

‘I wholeheartedly agree, and in the morning I’ll ask the virtuous Desdemona to act for me.’

Iago took Cassio’s arm and helped him to his feet.

‘I’m desperately worried about my future if my career were to be stopped here,’ said Cassio.

‘You’re doing the right thing. Good night Lieutenant. I must go and attend to the watch.’

‘Good night, honest Iago.’

Iago left him and walked slowly to the battlements. Who could say that he was playing the villain? This was open and honest advice he had given. It was wise and logical and absolutely the right course to win the Moor over, because it would be easy to commit the kindhearted Desdemona to any good cause. She had the most generous nature. And then, for her to persuade the Moor, even if it were to renounce his baptism — that very symbol of his redemption from sin — would be easy. He was so in love with her that she could make him, break him, do as she liked with him. He was completely under her spell. How could he then be called a villain when he was giving Cassio such good advice? He laughed out loud. It was the divinity of hell. When devils want to do their worst evil they seduce their victims with displays of good actions, as he had just been doing. While that honest fool plied Desdemona to help him, and while she was in turn begging the Moor, he would pour poison into Othello’s ear. He would suggest to the Moor that she was doing it out of lust for Cassio so that the more she pestered the Moor about it the more damage she would be doing to herself. In that way he would turn her virtue into pitch and use her very goodness to weave the net that would enmesh them all.

Someone was following him. He turned. It was Roderigo, fuming. Iago smiled. ‘Well hello Roderigo.’

‘I’m doing this for nothing!’ said Roderigo. ‘Following the chase, not like a hound, involved in it, but like one of the onlookers. I’ve spent my money; I’ve been badly beaten tonight, and I know that it will turn out that I’ll have nothing for my pains. And so, with no money at all and no brains either, I’ll go back to Venice.’

Iago sneered. ‘How poor those without patience are. What wound didn’t heal in stages? You know we’re working with our brains, not by witchcraft, and that means it takes time.’ Roderigo looked doubtful. ‘Don’t you think it’s going well?’ said Iago. ‘Cassio’s beaten you and by that small hurt you’ve destroyed him. Although all plants grow differently, the fruits that blossom first will ripen first. Be patient for a while.’

The sun was peeping up over the horizon. ‘My, my,’ said Iago. ‘It’s morning. Time flies when one’s having pleasure and action. Go to bed; go to your lodgings.’

Roderigo was about to say something but Iago waved him away. ‘Go now, I’ll keep you informed.’ Roderigo opened his mouth. ‘No,’ said Iago. ‘Be gone.’

Iago watched him as he slunk away. There were two things that had to be done. His wife had to petition Desdemona on Cassio’s behalf and he had to draw Othello aside and arrange for him to be in the right place to see Cassio soliciting Desdemona. Yes, that was the way. He mustn’t lose this by letting it go cold.

Modern Othello: Act 3, Scene 1

The troupe of musicians followed Michael Cassio to the little square overlooked by the castle’s living quarters. He stopped. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Right here. I’ll pay you for your trouble. Play something short, and sing “Good morning General”.’

They began, but they had hardly warmed to their tune when the old man whose job it was to sweep the courtyard came out and held his hands up. ‘What’s this, gentlemen? Have your instruments been in Naples that they have such a terrible, nasal sound? They sound like they have the pox.’

‘What do you mean?’ said the musician’s leader.

‘I ask you’, said the old man, ‘are these wind instruments?’

‘Yes, they are, of course,’ said the minstrel.

The old man nodded wisely. ‘Oh, I see. Thereby hangs a tail.’

‘Whereby hangs a tale?’

‘Indeed, Sir,’ the old man said. ‘By many wind instruments that I know of. He handed the musician a purse. ‘But gentlemen, here’s money for you. The General likes your music so much that he wishes you for the sake of love to stop making such a noise with it.’

‘The musicians laughed and their leader took the purse. ‘Well Sir, we won’t then,’ he said.

‘Of course, if you have any music that’s silent, then start again. But, as they say, the General doesn’t particularly like listening to music.’

‘We don’t have any silent music, Sir,’ the minstrel said.


‘Then pack your pipes away,’ the old man said. ‘I’m off now. Go on, vanish into thin air. Go on.’

The musicians packed up and walked away. Cassio called to the old man, who ignored him.

‘Do you hear me, my honest friend?’ said Cassio.

The old man turned to him. ‘No Sir. I don’t hear your honest friend. I hear you.’

Cassio laughed. ‘Keep it up,’ he said. ‘Here’s a small coin for you. If the gentlewoman who attends on the General’s wife is up tell her there’s one Cassio who’s asking to talk to her. Will you do that?’

‘She’s up, and I’ll ask her for you.’

‘Do that, my good friend,’ said Cassio ‘Ah,’ he said, as Iago came round the corner. ‘Good timing, Iago.’

Iago looked puzzled. ‘You haven’t been to bed then?’

‘No, of course not. It was already daylight before we parted. I’ve taken the liberty, Iago, of sending a message to your wife. My suit to her is that she will get me access to the virtuous Desdemona.’

‘I’ll send her to you in a while, and I’ll find a means of taking the Moor out of the way so that you can talk more freely.’

Cassio smiled. ‘I sincerely thank you.’ He had never known even a Florentine as kind and honest as Iago.

He waited no more than five minutes before Emilia came out to him.

Good morning, good Lieutenant,’ she said. I’m sorry to hear about your troubles, but I’m sure it will all turn out well. The General and his wife are talking about it and she’s stoutly defending you. The Moor’s argument is that the man you injured is important here in Cyprus and that he is also a significant ally. He won’t be able to refuse you though. He values you very highly and needs no other suitor than his own desire to bring you back at the first opportunity.’

‘Even so,’ said Cassio. ‘If you think it fitting, and if you can manage it, give me the chance of a brief chat with Desdemona in private.’

‘Come in then,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you somewhere where you can speak freely to her.’

‘I’m very grateful,’ said Cassio and followed her into the castle.

Modern Othello: Act 3, Scene 2

Othello was about to inspect Cyprus’ fortifications. He gave Iago some letters. ‘Give these to the ship’s captain, Iago. They’re my reports to the senate. Then come back to me. I’ll be on the battlements.’

‘Very good, my lord,’ said Iago.

‘Come on, then gentlemen, shall we look at these fortifications?’ said Othello.

Modern Othello: Act 3, Scene 3

Emilia, Desdemona and Cassio sat in the state reception room. ‘You can be sure, good Cassio,’ Desdemona was saying, ‘I’ll do everything I can for you.’

‘Please do, good madam,’ said Emilia. ‘I know this has upset my husband as if it were he this has happened to.’

‘Oh, that’s an honest fellow!’ said Desdemona. ‘Don’t worry, Cassio, I’ll make sure that you and my husband are as friendly as you were.’

‘Generous madam,’ said Cassio. ‘Whatever happens to Michael Cassio, he will always be your true servant.’

Desdemona squeezed his hand. ‘I know. Thank you. You love my lord. You’ve known him a long time and it’s certain that he won’t distance himself more than is diplomatically necessary.’

Cassio frowned. ‘Yes, but that diplomacy might last so long, or become so watered down, or be overtaken by events, so that I not being there, and someone else taking my place, my General will forget me.’

‘Don’t think that,’ said Desdemona. ‘In front of Emilia I promise you your place. Be sure that if I say I’ll do something I’ll do it to the last letter. I’ll give him no peace. I’ll keep my eye on it and talk him to death. His bed will be like a school and his dinner table a confessional. I’ll intermingle everything he does with Cassio’s suit. So, cheer up, Cassio, because your advocate will die rather than give up.’

Emilia glanced towards the door. ‘Madam,’ she said, ‘here comes my lord.’

Cassio looked uncomfortable. ‘Madam, I’ll go now,’ he said and stood up.

‘Why?’ Desdemona stretched out her hand. ‘Stay and hear me speak.’

‘Madam,’ he said. ‘Not now. I’m very uneasy — I don’t feel up to it.’


‘Well, if you insist,’ she said, as he left by the other door.

Iago stopped Othello at the door. ‘Ha,’ he said. ‘I don’t like that!’

‘What?’ said Othello.

Iago shook his head. ‘Oh it’s nothing. Or perhaps … No, I don’t know.’

‘Wasn’t that Cassio just leaving my wife?’

‘Cassio, my lord? No, surely not. I can’t believe Cassio would sneak away so guiltily, seeing you coming.’

‘I really do think it was him.’

Desdemona walked across the room to them. ‘Hello, my lord. I’ve just been talking to a petitioner here — someone who’s languishing in your displeasure.’

‘Who do you mean?’

‘Your Lieutenant, Cassio, of course. If I have any power to influence you, accept his apology because if he isn’t a man who truly loves you and only errs in ignorance and not out of malice then I’m no judge of honesty. I beg of you, call him back.’

‘Did he just leave?’

‘Yes. So humiliated that he’s made me sad. Dearest love, call him back.’

Othello kissed her. ‘Not now, sweet Desdemona. Some other time.’

‘But will it be soon?’

‘Very soon, Sweet, just for you.’

‘Tonight, at supper?’

‘No, not tonight.’

‘Tomorrow at dinner?’

‘I won’t be dining at home. I’m meeting the captains at the citadel.’


Desdemona put her arms around his neck. ‘Come on, tomorrow night or Tuesday morning, or Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday night. I beg of you, name the time, but don’t let it exceed three days. I’m telling you, he’s penitent, even though his offence can’t be considered something to warrant a serious punishment, although I can understand that because it’s wartime he should set an example.’ She stroked his beard. ‘When can he come, tell me Othello. I wonder what you would ask me that I would deny you, or stand hesitating like this. What! Michael Cassio, who came wooing with you? And so many times, when I have spoken critically of you, has taken your side. To have so much of a to–do to re–instate him?’

Othello laughed and kissed her. ‘Please, no more; he can come whenever he likes. I won’t deny you anything.’

‘Come on, this isn’t a favour to me. It’s as though I would ask you to wear your gloves or eat nourishing food, or keep yourself warm, or ask you to do something in your own interest. No, when there’s something I want out of love it will be more complex and tricky for you and difficult to grant.’

‘I will deny you nothing,’ he said. ‘But I do beg you to give me one thing; that is to give me a little time to myself.’

‘Would I deny you that? No, goodbye, my lord.’

‘Goodbye, my Desdemona, I’ll come to you soon.’

‘Come Emilia.’ Desdemona paused at the door. ‘See? Whatever you want of me I’ll give you.’

Othello watched them go. He muttered, almost to himself. ‘Hell take my soul, but I love you. And when I love you not it will be a return to chaos.’ He stood staring at the closed door.

Iago cleared his throat. ‘My noble lord…’

Othello turned. ‘What, Iago?’

Iago spoke slowly, thoughtfully. ‘When you were wooing my lady, did Cassio know of your love?’

‘He did, from beginning to end. Why are you asking?’

‘Just a thought I had. Nothing more.’

‘What thought, Iago?’

‘I didn’t think he knew her.’

‘Oh yes, and was often a go–between.’

‘Really!’

‘Really? Yes, really. Is there anything wrong with that? Isn’t he honest?’


‘Honest, my lord?’

‘Honest?’ Othello nodded irritably. ‘Yes, honest.’

‘My lord, for all I know.’

‘What do you think?’

‘Think, my lord?’

‘Think my lord!’ Othello was exasperated. ‘By heaven, he echoes me, as though there were some monster in his thought, too hideous to be revealed.’ Othello took a step towards Iago and looked down at him menacingly. ‘You’re insinuating something. Just now you said you didn’t like that. What didn’t you like? And when I told you he was my confidant all through my wooing you cried ‘Really!’ And you contracted and pursed your brow as if you had some horrible idea in your brain. If you love me tell me your thoughts.’

Iago sighed. ‘My lord, you know I love you.’

Othello stepped back but did not take his eyes off Iago. ‘I think you do. And as far as I know you are full of love and honesty, and you’re weighing your words before you voice them. So your hesitation scares me. Such things are common in a false, disloyal knave, but in a man that’s just they’re sincere, coming from the heart; things he can’t control because of genuine feeling.’

Iago spoke slowly, as though feeling for the right words. ‘Regarding Michael Cassio, I would swear that he is honest.’

‘I think so too.’

‘Men should be what they seem, or those that aren’t, it would be better if they didn’t seem to be anything.’

‘Certainly, men should be what they seem.’

Iago smiled and seemed relieved. ‘Well then, I think Cassio’s an honest man.’ He shrugged and turned to the window.

Othello gripped his shoulder. ‘No, there’s more to this. Please tell me what you’re thinking, exactly what’s in your mind, and speak plainly.’


‘My lord,’ said Iago, ‘forgive me. ‘Although I’m bound to you in every act of duty, I’m not bound, as even slaves are not, to utter my thoughts. What if they are vile and false? And whose mind doesn’t sometimes have foul intruders? Who has such a pure heart that some unclean considerations don’t sit alongside lawful ones?’

‘You conspire against your friend, Iago, if you think him wronged and don’t tell him.’

Iago said nothing for a moment, then smiled sadly. ‘I beg of you,’ he said. ‘Although I’m perhaps judging too harshly — and I admit it’s a fault in me, that I’m very sensitive to abuses, and my suspicions make me imagine faults that don’t exist — I’m sure that you’re too wise to take any notice of someone whose judgment is so imperfect. It’s not in the interest of your peace of mind, nor to your advantage, nor in the interest of my humanity, honesty and wisdom, to tell you what I’m thinking.’

Othello took a step towards him and looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘What are you talking about?’ he said.

Iago didn’t avert his eyes. ‘Good name in man or woman, my dear lord, is the most precious jewel of their souls. Whoever steals my purse steals trash — it’s something of no value. It was mine, now it’s his, and money has enslaved thousands. But he who steals my good name robs me of something that doesn’t enrich him but makes me very poor.’

Othello stepped even closer. ‘By heaven, I want to know your thoughts,’ he roared.

‘You can’t,’ said Iago, ‘even if you held my heart in your hand. Nor will you as long as it’s in my custody.’

Othello’s eyes widened. He was speechless. He raised his hand then stopped himself. All he could say was ‘Ha!’ Then he turned away.

‘O beware, my lord, of jealousy!’ said Iago, and Othello turned back to face him again. ‘It is the green–eyed monster that mocks the meat it feeds on. The cuckold who, knowing he is one and hates his wronger, lives in bliss. But oh, what terrible minutes he who adores, yet doubts, suspects but foolishly continues to love, endures.’

Othello buried his head in his hands. ‘Oh misery!’

‘Being poor and content is to be rich, and rich enough. But unlimited riches are as poor as winter to him who is always afraid that he is going to be poor. Dear God defend the souls of all my tribe from jealousy.’


‘What? What’s this?’ said Othello. ‘Do you think I would live with jealousy; to live through the changes of the moon with new suspicions all the time? No, as soon as I have doubts I do something about it immediately. Turn me into a goat when I allow my soul to suffer as a consequence of your inferences. It doesn’t make me jealous when someone says my wife is beautiful, likes company, speaks freely, sings, plays and dances well. When someone is virtuous these things add to that. Nor because of my own lack of attractiveness will I have the smallest fear or doubt about her fidelity, because she had eyes and chose me. No, Iago, I have to see evidence before I’ll doubt. When I have doubts I’ll try and prove it. And when it’s been proved that’s all there is to it: love and jealousy will be immediately banished.’

‘I’m relieved,’ said Iago. ‘Because now I have reason to show my love and duty with greater frankness. So, because it’s my duty, I’ll tell you. I’m not talking about proof yet, mind, but watch your wife — watch her closely with Cassio. Be objective — neither jealous nor secure. I wouldn’t want your open and noble nature taken advantage of. Watch. I know the nature of the women of our country. In Venice they let God see tricks they get up to that they dare not show their husbands. They would rather keep them secret than not get up to them.’

‘Is that so?’ Othello gave him a disapproving look.

Iago shrugged. ‘In marrying you she deceived her father. ‘And when she seemed to tremble and fear the looks you gave her, that’s when she loved you most in reality.’

Othello nodded. ‘Yes, she did.’

‘There you are then,’ said Iago. ‘She who when so young could appear so affected, and to seal her father’s eyes up so soundly that he thought it was witchcraft… But this is all my fault. I humbly beg your pardon for loving you too much.’

Othello put his hand on Iago’s shoulder. ‘I’m grateful to you for ever.’

‘I see this has lowered your spirits,’ said Iago.

Othello laughed. ‘Not a bit, not a bit.’

‘Really, I think it has. I hope you will understand that what I have said is because of my love for you.’ Othello tied to laugh again but failed. ‘But I can see it’s affected you,’ said Iago. ‘I’m asking you not to force me to tell you worse things, not to go beyond suspicion.’

‘I won’t,’ said Othello.

‘If you did I would say things I didn’t mean to say. Cassio’s my best friend. My lord. I can see you’re moved.’

‘No.’ Othello shook his head. ‘Not very moved. I’m sure Desdemona’s honest.

‘May she always be. And may you always think so!’

‘And yet.’ Othello was reflective. ‘I’m thinking about how nature is sometimes freakish…’

‘Yes,’ said Iago. ‘That’s the point.. To be quite frank, to reject so many proposed marriages to men of her own country, colour and position, which would be the most natural thing …. Foh! One could interpret that as having too strong a will, foully disproportionate, unnatural thoughts. But forgive me, I’m not talking about her specifically, although I could have cause to fear that her will, giving way to her better judgment may begin to compare you with her own countrymen so that perhaps she will be regretting marrying you.’

Othello was staring at him. ‘Go now, go. And if you notice anything more tell me. Get your wife to watch her. Leave me, Iago.

Iago turned away. ‘My lord, I’m going.’ He went to the door.

‘Why did I marry?’ said Othello. ‘This honest creature no doubt sees and knows much more than he’s telling me.’

Iago went back My lord.’ His tone was one of concern. ‘I would ask you not to think about it. Give it time. Although it’s right that Cassio should have his position, because he occupies it with great ability, yet if you were to hold him off for a while, you’ll be able to watch him and see his methods. See if you wife pleads strongly or passionately for his reinstatement. That will tell you a lot. In the meantime, just think of me as too interfering — although in a just cause — and regard her as honest. I beg of you.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Othello.

‘Now I’ll go,’said Iago.

Othello stood alone, gazing out the window. He knew that Iago was an honest man. He also had a lot of knowledge of human behaviour. If Desdemona proved unfaithful he would cast her out and leave her to fortune. Maybe it was because he was black and didn’t have the refined way of speaking that Venetian gentlemen had; or perhaps it was because he was older — although not all that much older …. She was gone, he had been deceived and his only relief would be to loathe her. Marriage was a curse! That men could call these delicate creatures theirs and yet not own their appetites. He would rather be a toad and live in a foul dungeon than keep a woman that he loved for the use of other men, even for a moment. This was the plague of great men, more privileged than the lesser. It was a destiny as unavoidable as death, and fated to them at the moment of their birth.

He heard Desdemona and Emily coming into the room behind him. He turned. She was smiling; pleasure at seeing him was in her eyes. If she was unfaithful it would be a case of heaven mocking itself. He wouldn’t believe it.

‘Hello, my dear Othello! she exclaimed. ‘Dinner is ready and the islanders you have invited are waiting for you.’

‘I’m at fault,’ he whispered.

She kissed him tenderly. ‘Why are you speaking so faintly? Are you unwell?’

‘I have a headache,’ he said.

She stroked his forehead. ‘We’ll have to do something about that. It will go away again. Let me bind it up for you and it will be better.’ She took a handkerchief from her sleeve.

‘That’s too small,’ he said and pushed her hand away. She dropped the handkerchief and when she reached for it he took her arm. ‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘Come, let’s go in.’

They walked to the door, her hand on his arm. She said: ‘I’m so sorry you’re not well.’

Emilia picked up the handkerchief. She was glad she had found it. It was Desdemona’s first gift from the Moor. Her husband had asked her a hundred times to steal it. But Desdemona loved it so much, because he had told her that she should keep it forever, that she always carried it with her to kiss it and talk to it. She would take it now, and unpick the embroidery then give it to Iago. Heaven knew what he would do with it but all she wanted to do was indulge him.

And here he was. ‘Well,’ he said. What are you doing here all by yourself?’

‘Don’t reprimand me,’ she said. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

‘Something for me?’ Iago glared at her. ‘It’s a normal thing.’

‘What is?’

‘To have a stupid wife.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Is that all?’ She went up close to him, holding her hand behind her back. ‘What will you give me for that handkerchief?’

‘What handkerchief?’

She laughed. ‘What handkerchief! The one the Moor first gave to Desdemona of course. The one you’ve been naggin me to steal.’

‘Have you stolen it from her?’

‘No, I didn’t have to. As luck would have it she dropped it by accident. I happened to be there and picked it up.’ She held the handkerchief up. ‘See? Here it is.’

‘Good girl. Give it to me.’

She thrust it behind her back again. ‘What do you want it for that you’ve been so keen for me to steal it?’

Iago pulled her arm from behind her back and snatched the handkerchief. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’

Emilia tried to snatch it back but he held it tightly. ‘If it’s not something important give it back to me. Poor lady, she’ll be distraught when she misses it.’

Iago fondled the handkerchief. ‘Don’t say anything about it. I have a use for it. Go. Leave me.’

She looked hurt but did as she was told. When she had gone Iago examined the handkerchief. He was very pleased. He would drop it in Cassio’s lodgings and let him find it. Any small thing would be proof to the jealous. This handkerchief could contribute. The Moor was already changing with his poison. Daring ideas are poison by their very nature. They may be dismissed at first but once they take root in the blood they burn like sulphur.

Someone was coming. It was Othello, looking devastated. Iago watched him. It was as he had thought it would be. No drugs, neither poppy nor madragora, nor any drug in the world would ever restore that sweet sleep that he had known as recently as yesterday.

Othello stumbled towards him, muttering to himself. ‘Oh, oh,’ he said. ‘Unfaithful to me!’

Iago helped him to his desk and sat him down. ‘Now, now, General,’ he said. ‘Enough of that.’

Othello looked up at him. ‘Get away. Go! You’ve put me on the rack. I swear, it’s better to be terribly abused than to know anything of it at all.’

‘Come on, my lord,’ said Iago.

Othello sank his head on to the desk. ‘What intimation did I have of her stolen hours of lust?’ he said, speaking softly. ‘I didn’t see it, didn’t think it, it didn’t affect me. I slept well, I was free and happy. I didn’t sense Cassio’s kisses on her lips. When a man is robbed, if he doesn’t miss the thing that’s stolen, if he doesn’t know, he’s not robbed at all.’

‘I’m sorry to hear this,’ said Iago solicitously.

‘I would have been happy if the whole regiment, navvies and all, had enjoyed her sweet body,’ said Othello. ‘As long as I hadn’t known.’ He looked up at Iago. There were tears in his eyes. ‘Oh, now, forever, farewell to peace of mind! Farewell contentedness! Farewell to the decorated army and the big wars that make one proud. Oh farewell! Farewell to the neighing horses and the shrill trumpet, the spirit–strirring drum, the ear–piercing fife, the royal banner and all the good things — the pride, pomp and pageantry — of glorious war! And, oh, the shouts of soldiers who imitate Jove’s dread thunders, farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone.’

Iago shook his head. ‘Is it that bad, my lord?’

Othello sprang up and bore down on Iago. He grasped the front of his tunic. ‘Villain!’ he exclaimed. ‘Be sure you can prove my love’s a whore. Be sure of it. Give me visual proof or by everything I am it would be better that you had been born a dog than that you should have to answer my awakened wrath!’

Iago looked shocked. ‘Has it come to this?’

‘Let me see it with my own eyes,’ said Othello. ‘Or at the very least, prove it beyond doubt. Your life depends on it!’

‘My noble lord…’

‘If you’re slandering her, and torturing me, don’t ever look for mercy again: abandon all hope of redemption. Let horror be piled upon horror for you. You could do any wicked act, deeds to make heaven weep, to amaze the whole world, because you wouldn’t be able to add anything worse to that.’

Iago thrust his hands over his ears and looked up to the ceiling. ‘Oh grace!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh heaven defend me!’ He shook his head. ‘Are you a man? Do you have a soul? Or any intelligence?’ He turned and began walking away. ‘God be with you then. Take my office away from me.’ He got to the door and paused. Then speaking to himself, but loudly enough for Othello to hear he said: ‘O wretched fool, who loves to make your honesty a vice! Oh cruel world! Take note, take note, oh world: to be straightforward and honest is not safe.’ He turned and looked at Othello with infinite sadness etched on his features. ‘I thank you for doing this. From now on I’ll love no–one since loving acts breed such offence.’

Othello stretched his arm toward him. ‘No, don’t go,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’re honest.’

‘I should be more wise,’ said Iago, ‘because honesty’s a fool and destroys its good intentions.’

Othello slumped on to a chair. ‘I’m confused. I think my wife is honest and I also think she isn’t. I think you’re just and I also think you’re not. I want some proof. Her name, that was as fresh as Dian’s face, is now soiled and black as my own face. There are ropes and knives, poison, fire, drowning, available. Why should I endure this? I wish I were satisfied.’

Iago hadn’t moved. He went, now, and stood before Othello. ‘I see Sir,’ he said, ‘that you’re eaten up with passion. I’m sorry now, that I said anything. You want to be satisfied?’

Othello sprang up. ‘Want? No, demand!’

‘And you may be. But how? Satisfied in what way, my lord? Would you be a voyeur, crudely watching? See her topped?’

Othello swayed. His eyeballs bulged and he spluttered. ‘Death and damnation! Oh!’

Iago continued with his theme, appearing not to notice Othello’s state. ‘I think it would be incredibly difficult to arrange that. If any mortal eyes were to see them sharing a bed they would be eternally damned. What then? How shall we do this? What can I say? Where can we get satisfaction? It would be impossible to arrange for you to see this, even if they were as lecherous as goats, as hot as monkeys, as lustful as wolves on heat, and if they were such fools, made drunk by ignorance. But still, if inference and circumstantial evidence which would lead directly to the door of truth will give you satisfaction, you could have it.’

‘Give me one reason you have for thinking she’s disloyal.’

‘I don’t like doing this,’ said Iago. ‘But since I’ve gone so far, moved to it by my foolish honesty and love, I’ll tell you. I stayed with Cassio recently, and being troubled with a raging toothache, I couldn’t sleep. There are some people who are so unguarded that they expose their private affairs by talking in their sleep. Cassio is one of those. I heard him say, while still asleep: ‘Sweet Desdemona, we must be careful, we must hide our love.’ And then, Sir, he gripped my hand and wrung it, and cried ‘Oh sweet creature!’ and kissed me passionately as though he was pulling up by the roots the kisses that grew on my lips. Then he put his leg over my thigh and sighed and kissed me and then cried ‘Cursed fate, that gave you to the Moor!’’

Othello’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh monstrous!’ he exclaimed. ‘Monstrous!’

‘No, no,’ said Iago. ‘It was only a dream.’

‘But it showed his real thoughts.’

‘It’s an indication, although it was only a dream, and it may add to other less obvious proofs.’

Othello pulled himself up. ‘I’ll tear her to pieces,’ he said.

‘No,’ said Iago. Be cautious. ‘We haven’t seen him do anything. She may still be honest.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Just tell me something. Have you ever seen your wife with a handkerchief decorated with strawberries?’

‘I gave her one like that. It was my first gift to her,’

‘I don’t know anything about that,’ said Iago. ‘But it was a handkerchief just like that — I’m sure it was your wife’s — that I saw him wipe his beard with only today.’

‘If it was that one…’

‘If it was that one, or any other one that was hers, it adds to the other proofs.’

Othello extracted a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. ‘Oh, I wish the slave had forty thousand lives! One is not enough, not enough for my revenge. Now I can see that it’s true. Look here, Iago — all my foolish love I hereby blow to heaven. It’s gone.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘Arise, black vengeance, from your hollow cell! Oh love, give up your crown and hearted throne to tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with your pain, it’s full of snakes’ tongues.’

‘Calm down,’ said Iago.

Othello swayed from side to side. ‘Oh blood, blood, blood!’ he moaned.

‘Calm down, I say,’ said Iago.’ You may change your mind.’

‘Never, Iago. Just like the Pontic sea, whose icy current and compulsive thrust, never relaxes in a retiring ebb, but keeps pushing on to the Propontic and the Hellespont, just like that, my bloody thoughts with their violent pace, will never look back, never ebb to the calm I felt before until a huge revenge swallows them up. Now, by heaven above, I’m taking a vow.’ He knelt down.

Iago placed his hand on Othello’s head. ‘Don’t rise yet,’ he said, and facing him, knelt too. ‘I swear,’ he said, ‘before the lights of heaven and the elements that surround us, I swear that Iago surrenders his mind, hands and heart to the service of wronged Othello. Let him command, and to obey, whatever it may be, will be my goal, however bloody the business is.’

He took Othello’s hands in his and they rose together.

’I accept your love,’ said Othello. ‘Not with a superficial gratitude, but completely. And I’m going to test you immediately. Let me within the next three days hear you say that Cassio’s not alive.’

‘My friend is dead,’ said Iago. ‘It’s done at your request. But let her live.’

Othello looked as though he was going to burst. ‘Damn her, lewd minx! He roared. ‘Damn her, damn her! Come with me. I’m going to go straight away and find a way of killing the beautiful devil. You’re my lieutenant now.’

‘I’m yours forever,’ said Iago.

Modern Othello: Act 3, Scene 4

Desdemona and Emilia went out to the courtyard to enjoy the sunshine. They settled themselves on a bench under a tall shady tree. Desdemona beckoned to the old sweeper.

‘Do you know, my good man, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?’

‘I wouldn’t dare say he lies anywhere,’ the old man said.

‘Why man?’

‘He’s a soldier and for one to say a soldier lies is slander.’

Desdemona and Emilia laughed. ‘Where does he lodge?’ said Desdemona.

‘To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie,’ the old man said.

Desdemona looked at Emilia. ‘Can one make anything of this?’

Emilia shrugged.

‘I don’t know where he lodges,’ said the old man. ‘And for me to invent a lodging and say he lies here or lies there would be to lie in my own throat.’

‘Can you seek him out? And honour us with a report?’

‘I will examine the world for him: that is, compile questions and by them, answer.’ The old man bowed exaggeratedly and they laughed.

‘Look for him,’ said Desdemona. ‘Tell him to come here. Say that I have succeeded with my husband on his behalf and hope all will be well.’


‘To do that is within the possibility of man’s intelligence and therefore I will try doing it.’ The old man bowed again, saluted and set off on his errand.

Desdemona sighed. ‘Where do you think I lost that handkerchief, Emilia?’

Emilia avoided her eyes. ‘I don’t know, Madam,’ she said.

‘Believe me,’ said Desdemona. ‘I would rather have lost my purse, full of gold coins. And if my noble Moor weren’t so straightforward, with none of that unpleasantness that jealous men have, it would be enough to give him negative thoughts.’

‘He’s not a jealous man?’

‘Who? He?’ Desdemona laughed. I think the sun in the country where he was born dried up all those kinds of fluids in him.’

‘And here he comes,’ said Emilia, as Othello strode towards them.

Desdemona spoke softly in Emilia’s ear: ‘I won’t give him any peace now until he sends for Cassio.’ She smiled brightly. ‘How are you, my lord?’

‘I’m well, my good lady,’ said Othello. It was so hard to hide his feelings. ‘And how are you, Desdemona?’

‘Well, my good lord,’ she said.

‘Give me your hand,’ he said. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. ‘Your hand is moist, my lady.’

‘It hasn’t yet felt age, or known sorrow.’

‘It’s a sign of passion and open–heartedness.’ He stroked her palm. ‘Hot, hot and moist,’ he said ‘This hand of yours requires locking up, fasting, prayer, a lot of penance and religious exercise, because there’s a sweating and rebellious young devil here. It’s a good hand, a frank one.’

She laughed. ‘And so you should say that. It was the hand that gave my heart away.’

‘A free hand!’ he exclaimed. In olden times hands were given with hearts but the modern way is giving hands without hearts.’

‘I know nothing about that,’ she said. ‘Come now. Your promise.’


‘What promise, darling?’

‘I’ve sent to tell Cassio to come and talk to you.’

‘I’m getting a bad cold.’ he said. ‘Lend me your handkerchief.’

She took a handkerchief from her sleeve. ‘Here, my lord.’

He shook his head impatiently. ‘The one I gave you.’

‘I don’t have it with me.’

‘Not?’

‘No I don’t, my lord.’

‘That’s a mistake,’ he said. ‘An Egyptian gave it to my mother. She was a mystic and could almost read people’s thoughts. She told her that as long as she kept it it would make her agreeable and subdue my father completely to her love. But if she lost it or gave it away, my father would loathe the sight of her and he would look for new women. She gave it to me as she was dying and told me that when my turn came to marry I should give it to my wife. I did so, and take note of this: value it as you do your eyesight. To lose it or give it away would be damnation that nothing else could match.’

Desdemona breathed in sharply. ‘Is it possible?’ she said.

Othello nodded vigorously. ‘It’s true — there’s magic in the weave of it. A sibyl, who was two hundred years old, sewed it in a prophetic burst. The worms that made the silk were sacred, and it was dyed in fluid from mummies and the colour fixed with extract of virgins’ hearts.’

‘Really!’ Desdemona was uncertain. ‘Is it true?’

‘Most surely,’ he said. ‘Therefore look after it well.’

‘Then I wish to God I had never set eyes on it!’ she exclaimed.

‘Ha!’ Othello twitched. ‘Why?’

‘Why are you shouting?’

He put his face close to hers and raised his voice even more. ‘Is’t lost? Is’t gone?’


She stepped back.

‘Tell me!’ he shouted. ‘Is it missing?’

Desdemona looked desperately at Emilia. ‘Heaven bless us!’

‘What did you say?’ Othello gripped her arms.

‘It isn’t lost,’ she said. ‘But what if it was?’

‘What!’

‘I said it is not lost.’

‘Get it. Let me see it!’

‘Why, I can, Sir, but I don’t want to now. This is a trick to distract me from my suit. Please, see Cassio again.’

‘Go and get the handkerchief. My mind is uneasy.’

‘Come on now,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t find a more adequate man.’

Othello didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘The handkerchief!’ he bellowed.

‘I beg of you,’ she said. ‘Talk to me about Cassio.’

‘The handkerchief!’

Desdemona refused to give up. She tried again. ‘A man who has been your best friend, shared dangers with you…’

Othello’s eyes bulged. ‘The handkerchief!’

Desdemona turned away. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you,’ she said.

Othello threw his hands up. ‘God’s wounds,’ he shouted and strode to the castle entrance.

‘He looks like a jealous man,’ said Emilia as they watched him storm away.

I’ve never seen this before,’ said Desdemona. ‘There must be something special about that handkerchief. I’m dreadfully sorry that I lost it.’


‘It doesn’t take more than a year or two for a man to show his true colours,’ said Emilia. ‘They’re nothing more than stomachs and we’re only food. They eat us hungrily and when they’re full they belch us. Oh look, Cassio and my husband.’

Iago was saying, ‘There’s no other way: she’s the one who has to do it. Go and ask her.’

Desdemona put her hand out to Cassio. ‘Welcome, good Cassio,’ she said. ‘How are you?’

Cassio showed his distress. ‘Madam,’ he said. ‘About my former request. I beg of you, that with your help I may again exist and be a member of his love, whom I honour with all my heart. I can’t bear any delay. If my offence is so bad that nothing I have done to serve him in the past, nor my sorrow, nor my future good intentions, can bring me back into his favour, then I have to know so that I can get used to it and find something else to do with my life.

‘Oh dear, my good friend Cassio,’ she said. ‘This is not the best time for me. My lord is not himself, and I wouldn’t even know him if he had changed in his looks as much he has changed in his mood. I assure you, I have done my best to speak for you and have aroused his displeasure for being so bold. You must be patient for a while. I’ll do what I can, and even more than I really dare to. Let that be enough for you.’

Iago looked surprised. ‘Is my lord angry?’ he said.

‘He’s just left,’ said Emilia, ‘ and was certainly very disturbed.’

‘Could he be angry?’ said Iago. I have seen the cannon blasting his ranks into the air and strike his brother down and not seen anger in him. This is something momentous then. I’ll go and see him. There’s some real substance in this if he’s angry.’

‘Please do so,’ said Desdemona.

When he had gone Desdemona shook her head. She appealed to Emilia. ‘It must be some matter of state,’ she said. ‘Either something from Venice or some unhatched plot that’s been revealed to him here in Cyprus has muddied the clarity of his mind. In such cases it’s the nature of men to wrangle about small things when they have important matters on their minds. That must be it. It’s like when a finger aches it makes every part of us feel that it’s in pain. No, we mustn’t make the mistake of thinking that men are gods, nor should we expect them always to behave towards us as they do at the wedding. Forgive me, Emilia, I was, inadequate ‘warrior’ as I am, resenting his unkindness but now I find I was being unjust and accusing him falsely.’

‘Let’s hope it is state matters, as you think it is, and nothing — not any jealousy — concerning you.’ Emilia looked thoughtful.


‘Oh no,’ said Desdemona. ‘I’ve never given him cause for that.’

‘But jealous natures don’t need a cause. They never have a reason for their jealousy. They’re jealous because they’re jealous. Jealousy is a monster, conceived of itself, born of itself.’

‘Heaven keep that monster from Othello’s mind,’ said Desdemona.

‘Amen!’ said Emilia.

‘I’ll go and look for him,’ said Desdemona. ‘Stay in the vicinity, Cassio. If I find him in the right state of mind I’ll ask him again and try my best to bring it about.’

‘I’m most grateful to your ladyship,’ said Cassio.

He went out, past the guard, and stood at the gate, staring down at the sea. A voice startled him. It was Bianca, a young townswoman he had struck up a friendship with.

‘What are you doing here?’ he said. ‘How are you, my beautiful Bianca? I was going to go to your house.’

She smiled coquettishly. ‘And I was on my way to your lodging, Cassio.’ She slipped an arm round his waist. ‘What’s this?’ she said. ‘Keep a week away from me? Seven days and nights? Eight score eight hours? And lovers’ hours away from each other more tedious than the eight score on the clock. So slow.’

‘Forgive me Bianca,’ he said. ‘I’ve been oppressed with a heavy heart these last few days but I’ll be able to make up for this absence soon.’ He pulled a large handkerchief out of his pocket. ‘Sweet Bianca, take this embroidery out for me.’

Bianca looked dismayed. ‘Oh Cassio, where did this come from? This is a gift from a newer friend. Now I understand your absence. So it’s come to this. Well, well.’

‘Go on, woman!’ he exclaimed. Throw your vile guesses back in the devil’s teeth where they came from.’ And when she turned away he caught hold of her. ‘You’re jealous now. You think this is a souvenir from some woman. No, I swear, Bianca.’

‘Well whose is it then?’

‘I have no idea, Sweetheart. I found it in my bedroom. I like the pattern a lot. Before someone claims it, as I’m sure they will, I want it copied. Take it and do it, and leave me for the moment.’

‘Leave you?’ she said. ‘Why?’

‘I’m here to see the General, and I don’t think it will be helpful — nor do I want it — that he should see me with a woman.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘It’s not that I love you not.’

‘But that you do not love me. Come on, walk a little way with me and tell me if I’ll see you tonight.’

‘I can only walk a little way with you because I have to be here, but I’ll see you soon.’

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to make do with that.’

Modern Othello: Act 4, Scene 1

Iago had to work fast. Every minute’s delay increased the risk that he would be exposed. He found Othello at his desk, where he sat brooding, and he introduced the subject immediately.

‘What do you think about it?’ he said.

‘Think about it Iago?’ Othello was far away.

‘What! To kiss in private’?

‘It would be an unauthorised kiss then.’

‘Or to be naked in bed with her friend and not mean any harm?’

He had the General’s attention. ‘Naked in bed and not mean harm?’ said Othello. ‘That’s hypocrisy against the devil. Those who do that without meaning harm are being tempted by the devil and they are tempting heaven.’

‘If they do nothing it’s just a venial slip,’ said Iago. ‘But if I give my wife a handkerchief…’

‘What then?’ said Othello.

‘Well, then, it’s hers, my lord, and she may give it to any man.’

‘By that logic, being the owner of her honour, may she give that too?

Iago smiled. ‘Her honour is invisible: they often have it when they don’t. But as for the handkerchief…’

Othello sprang up. ‘By heaven, I’ve been trying to forget that! You told me — oh it comes to my memory like the raven visiting the infectious house, boding ill to all in it — he had my handkerchief.’


‘Yes, and what does that mean?’

‘It’s bad.’

Iago sat down in Othello’s vacated chair. ‘What if I told you I had actually seen him doing you wrong, or heard him say — as there are such rogues who, having seduced some married woman, can’t help blabbing about it.’

‘Has he said anything?’

Iago nodded sadly. ‘He has, my lord, but you can be sure he’ll deny it.’

‘What did he say?’

‘In faith, that he… No, I don’t know what he did.’

Othello went down on his knees and looked up at Iago. ‘What? What?’

‘Lie…’

‘With her?

‘With her, on top of her, everything.’

Othello put his hands up and blocked his ears. ‘Lie with her? On top of her? Lie with her! God’s wounds, that’s evidence!’ He began swaying. ‘Handkerchief — confession — handkerchief! To confess and be hanged for it. First the hanging then the confession!’ He was shaking violently. He examined his hands, trying to hold them steady. ‘I’m shaking at it. I couldn’t feel such passion if I didn’t know it was true. It’s more than words that’s making me shake like this.’ He tried to rise. ‘Noses, ears and lips — all shaking. Is it possible?’ He stood up and lurched forward like a drunken man. ‘Confess? Handkerchief! O devil!’ He crashed to the floor in a faint.

Iago got up and looked down at him. He smiled. He put his foot on his head. ‘Work on, my medicine, work,’ he whispered. ‘This is how gullible fools are caught, and so many worthy and chaste women too, all innocent, but condemned.’ He heard someone coming. He knelt down beside Othello and took his face gently in his hands. ‘’Wake up, my lord!’ he said. ‘My lord, I say! Othello!’

It was Cassio.

‘Hello Cassio,’ he said and beckoned him.


Cassio bent over Othello’s inert body. ‘What’s the matter?’ he said.

‘My lord has had an epileptic attack. This is the second. He had one yesterday.’

‘Rub his temples,’ said Cassio and began to do that.

‘No, stop,’ said Iago. ‘The fit must take its natural course. If not he foams at the mouth and eventually breaks out in savage madness. Look, he’s stirring. Just leave us for a while. He’ll recover in a moment. When he’s gone there’s an important matter I want to talk to you about.’

Cassio went out quickly.

Othello groaned and opened his eyes.

‘How are you General?’ said Iago. ‘Have you hurt your head?’

Othello sat up and glared at Iago. ‘Are you mocking me?’

‘I mock you? No, by heaven! I wish you would take this like a man!’

‘A horned man’s a monster and an animal.’

‘In that case there are lots of animals in big cities and many monsters of rank.’

‘Did he confess it?’ said Othello.

‘Good sir, be a man. Think of it like this, that all men are in the same situation. There are millions now alive who sleep every night with unfaithful women who they take to be faithful. You’re better off. Oh, it’s the spite of hell to have a woman in what one took to be a secure marriage bed and take for granted that she’s chaste. No, I would rather know, and knowing the situation I can decide what action to take.’

Othello got up shakily. ‘Oh you’re wise, that’s certain.’

‘Go and stand behind that pillar,’ said Iago. ‘Hide away and wait patiently. While you were unconscious, overwhelmed with your grief — a passion so unsuited to such a man as you — Cassio was here. I got rid of him and made an excuse for your condition, and told him to come back later and talk to me, which he promised to do. Just go and hide and watch the sneers, the mockery and awful scorns that live in every part of his face. Because I’m going to make him tell me the story again: where, how often, how long ago and when he did, and will again, have your wife.’


Othello opened his mouth to cry out but Iago put his hand up. ‘Listen to me. Just watch his gestures.’ Othello opened his mouth again and Iago stopped him again. ‘For heaven’s sake, have patience! Or I will think you’re all spleen and nothing of a man.’

Othello raised his hand in a fist. ‘Do you hear, Iago? I will control myself and I will be patient, but — do you hear? — most bloody.’

‘Nothing wrong with that,’ said Iago. But all in due course. Will you go and hide?’

Othello went and stood behind the pillar. Cassio would arrive in a minute. Iago knew exactly how he was going to do it. He would question Cassio about Bianca, a housewife who sold herself to buy food and clothes. She doted on Cassio. Iago grinned. It was the fate of prostitutes to beguile many men and be in love with just one. As soon as he mentioned her name Cassio wouldn’t be able to stop himself from laughing about her. And here he was. When Othello saw him laughing he would go mad. His naïve jealousy would completely misconstrue Cassio’s smiles, gestures and frivolous behaviour.

‘How are you, Lieutenant?’

‘The worse for you calling me by the title the lack of which is killing me,’ said Cassio.

Speaking very quietly Iago said: ‘Keep going with Desdemona and you’ll be sure of it. Now if this suit lay in Bianca’s power you’d have it very quickly.’

Cassio’s sad face brightened and he laughed. ‘Poor wretch,’ he said.

Othello, watching from behind the pillar, saw the sudden laughter.

‘I never knew a woman who loved a man so much,’ said Iago.

‘Alas, poor rogue!’ exclaimed Cassio. ‘I think she loves me.’

Othello was astounded by his dismissive gesture and the renewed laughter.

‘Do you know what, Cassio?’ said Iago. ‘She’s telling everyone that you’re going to marry her. Is that what you intend?’

Cassio threw his head back and laughed loudly. It came across to Othello as triumphant.

‘I marry her!’ Cassio laughed even louder. What! A customer! Please! Give my intelligence more credit; don’t think it’s so low.’ More laughter.

Othello vowed that the winner would be the one to laugh.


‘Honestly,’ said Iago, ‘the gossip has it that you’re going to marry her.’

‘Oh please!’

‘It’s true, or I’m a villain.’

‘The monkey has spread the rumours herself. She flatters herself. She does it out of self love, not because of any promise I made her.’

Iago unobtrusively drew Cassio closer to the pillar behind which Othello was hiding so that he could hear the rest of the conversation.

‘She was here just now,’ said Cassio. ‘She haunts me wherever I go. The other day I was at the beach, talking to some Venetians, and the toy comes along and, by this hand, starts hugging and kissing me.’

Othello tried to digest that.

‘And holds on to me and sighs and cries and pulls at me,’ said Cassio, still laughing.

Othello filled in the rest — her dragging him to their bedroom. He was going to feed Cassio’s nose to the dogs.

‘Well, I’ll have to get rid of her,’ said Cassio.

There was shouting and scuffling and the door burst open and Bianca came running in, followed by a guard.

Iago waved the guard away as she ran towards them.

‘What do you think you’re doing, stalking me like this?’ said Cassio.

‘Let the devil and his mother stalk you,’ she shouted. ‘What did you mean by giving me that handkerchief? I was a real fool to take it. A likely story that you found it in your bedroom and not know who left it there. This is a gift from some hussy, and I must take the embroidery out. Here!’ She threw the handkerchief at him. ‘Give it to your mistress, whoever gave it to you. I’m not taking the embroidery out.’

Cassio caught her in his arms. ‘Come on, my sweet Bianca. He held her close to him. ‘Come on, come on now.’

Othello recognised the handkerchief but stayed where he was.


Bianca responded to Cassio’s kiss then struggled free. ‘If you’d like to come to supper tonight you may,’ she said. ‘If not, come when you like.’

‘After her, after her,’ said Iago.

‘Yes, I must,’ said Cassio. ‘Or she’ll shout it out in the streets.’

‘Will you go to her for supper?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Well I may bump into you. I need to talk to you.’

‘Please come.’ Cassio paused at the door. ‘Will you?’

‘Go on. Say no more.’

Othello came out from behind the pillar. He clenched his fists. ‘How shall I murder him, Iago?’

‘Did you see how he laughed at his vice?’ said Iago.

‘Oh Iago!’

‘And did you see the handkerchief?’

‘Was that mine?’

‘Yours, by this hand! And to see how he values the foolish woman, your wife: she gave it to him and he has given it to his whore.’

‘I want him killed slowly.’ Othello sank down at his desk and put his head on it. ‘A fine woman, a beautiful woman, a sweet woman,’ he moaned.

Iago put his hand on the General’s shoulder. ‘No, you must forget that,’ he said.

Othello looked up at him. His eyes were wet. ‘Yes, let her rot and die and be damned tonight because she’ll not live beyond that. No, my heart has turned to stone.’ He beat his chest. ‘I strike it and it hurts my hand.’ He put his head on the desk again. ‘Oh, there’s not a sweeter creature in the world. She could lie at the side of an emperor and tell him what to do.’

‘No,’ said Iago. ‘That’s not your way.’

‘Hang her!’ Othello rallied for a moment then sank down again. ‘I’m only saying what she is. So delicate with her needle, such an admirable musician. Oh, she could sing the savageness out of a bear. Such high intelligence, so creative.’

‘She’s the worse for all that,’ said Iago.

‘Oh, a thousand thousand times! But then, so gentle.’

‘Yes, too gentle.’

‘No, that’s certain!’ Othello shook his head. ‘But yet, the pity of it, Iago. Oh, Iago, the pity of it, Iago!’

‘If you’re going to be so foolish about her crime just go ahead and give her permission because if it’s not your business it’s no–one else’s.’

‘I will chop her into pieces of meat!’ said Othello. ‘Cuckold me!’

‘Oh it’s so foul of her,’ said Iago.

‘With my officer!’

‘That’s even fouler.’

‘Get me some poison tonight, Iago. I won’t delay in case her body and beauty make me change my mind. Tonight, Iago.’

‘Don’t do it with poison. Strangle her in bed — the very bed she’s contaminated.’

Othello gripped Iago’s sleeves. ‘Good. Good! The justice of it is appropriate. Very good!’

‘And as for Cassio, let me deal with him. You will hear more by midnight.’

‘Excellent.’

There was a loud fanfare from the castle’s trumpeters.

‘What’s that?’ said Othello

‘Something from Venice, I’ll bet,’ said Iago. He went to the door. There were people coming along the corridor. He turned back to Othello: ‘It’s Lodovico, come from the Duke, and see, your wife is with him.’

‘God save you, worthy General!’ exclaimed Lodovico and shook Othello’s hand vigorously.

Othello tried a smile. ‘With all my heart, Sir.’

Lodovico handed him a letter. ‘The Duke and senators of Venice greet you.’

Othello opened the letter and started reading it. The others chatted as they waited for him.

‘And what’s the news, good cousin Lodovico?’ said Desdemona.

‘I’m very glad to see you, signor,’ said Iago. ‘Welcome to Cyprus.’

‘Thank you,’ said Lodovico. ‘How is Lieutenant Cassio?’

‘Lives, Sir,’ said Iago.

‘Cousin,’ said Desdemona. ‘He and my lord have sadly fallen out. But you’ll make that all well.’

‘Are you sure of that?’ said Othello suddenly.

‘My Lord?’ said Desdemona.

Othello ignored her. His lips moved as he read. ‘ ‘This you must not fail to do, if you…’ he muttered.

Lodovico laughed. ‘He wasn’t talking to you. He’s engrossed in the letter. Has there been a quarrel between my lord and Cassio?’

‘A most unfortunate one. I would do a lot to bring them together for the sake of the love I have for Cassio.’

‘Fire and brimstone!’ roared Othello.

Desdemona looked shocked. ‘My lord?’ she said.

He threw the letter down and came up to Desdemona. ‘Are you wise?’ he said.

Desdemona appealed to Emilia: ‘What? Is he angry?’

‘Perhaps the letter has upset him,’ said Lodovico. ‘I believe they’re recalling him, replacing him with Cassio.’

Desdemona smiled excitedly. ‘I’m so happy about that,’ she exclaimed.

Othello glared at her. ‘Really!’ he said.

‘My Lord?’

‘I’m happy for you then,’ said Othello.

Desdemona caught the pain on his features and took his arm. ‘Why, sweet Othello,’ she said.

He shook her off roughly. ‘Devil!’ he shouted, lifted his hand and struck her hard in the face.

They all watched, shocked, as she looked up at his angry face with tears in her eyes. ‘I haven’t deserved this,’ she said.

Lodovico found his voice. My lord,’ he said. ‘Even if I were to swear that I saw this with my own eyes no–one in Venice would believe it. It’s too much. Apologise to her. She’s crying.’

Othello turned and gave him a hard look. ‘Oh devil, devil,’ he said. ‘If the whole earth were flooded with woman’s tears, each drop would be a crocodile tear.’ He turned his head toward Desdemona. ‘Out of my sight!’ he snapped.

‘I won’t offend you by staying,’ she said and began walking fast to the door.

Lodovico stared after her. ‘She’s an obedient lady,’ he said. ‘I beg of you, call her back.’

‘Mistress!’ said Othello.

She stopped and turned. ‘My lord?’

‘What do you want her for, Sir?’ said Othello.

‘Who I?’ said Lodovico.

‘Yes. You wanted me to make her turn. Sir, she can turn, and turn, and leave again, and turn again. And she can weep, Sir, weep. And she’s obedient, as you say, obedient — very obedient.’ His tone was bitter. He shook his finger at Desdemona. ‘You carry on with your tears.’ Then to Lodovico: ‘Concerning this, Sir,’ and then to Desdemona again: ‘Oh well counterfeited passion!’ To everyone: ‘I am commanded home,’ and to Desdemona, shouting: ‘Get away, I’ll send for you presently.’ To Lodovico: ‘Sir, I obey the mandate and will return to Venice.’ He saw Desdemona stop at the door and shouted after her: ‘Go, vanish!’

She almost ran. Othello tried to speak calmly but his breath was laboured. ‘Cassio will take my place. And, Sir, I invite you to supper with me tonight. You are welcome, Sir, to Cyprus.’ He turned abruptly and strode off. He lifted his head to the heavens and roared: ‘Goats and monkeys!’

Iago was silent as Lodovico paced for a moment then swung round to him.

‘Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senate call unmatchable? Is this the temperament that couldn’t be shaken by emotion? Whose solid virtue couldn’t be affected by anything? ‘

‘He is much changed,’ said Iago.

‘Is his mind stable? Has he gone mad?’

‘This is what he’s like. I wouldn’t dare to breathe my judgment about what he’s capable of. If he’s not what he should be I wish to heaven he were.’

‘What! To strike his wife!’

‘Yes, that was bad. But I wish I could feel that that violence would prove the worst thing he could do.’

‘Is this what he’s usually like? Or did the letters stir his blood and create this fault in him?’

‘Sadly, it would be disloyal of me to speak of what I have seen and known. You watch him and he will reveal himself so that I won’t have to tell you. Just follow him and see how he behaves.’

Lodovico shook his head sadly. ‘I regret to say that I’m disappointed in him.’

Modern Othello: Act 4, Scene 2

Othello sent a servant to bring Emilia to him. He paced until she arrived then sat at his desk and looked at her. ‘You’ve seen nothing then?’ he said.

‘Nor heard anything, nor ever suspected anything.’

‘Yes you have. You’ve seen her and Cassio together.’

‘But I saw no harm, and I heard every syllable of their conversation.’

‘What! Did they never whisper?’

‘Never, my lord.’

‘Nor send you away?’

‘Never.’

‘To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?’

‘Never, my lord.’

Othello shook his head. He didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘That’s strange,’ he said.

‘I would be prepared to bet that she’s honest, my lord,’ she said. ‘Stake my soul on it. If you think otherwise, dismiss the thought; it abuses your heart. If anyone has put this into your head let heaven punish him with the serpent’s curse! Because, if she’s not honest, chaste and true, then no–one’s wife is. The purest of other men’s wives is as foul as slander.’

‘Go and tell her to come here. Go!’


While he waited Othello pondered on Emilia’s testimony. She had told him enough. She was just a pimp, unprepared to speak out. She was a subtle whore, a vault of guilty secrets, a hypocrite who, knowing what she knew, would still kneel and pray. He had seen her do it.

There was a knock on the door and Desdemona came in, followed by Emilia.

‘Please, darling, come here,’ he said.

She came and stood before his desk. ‘What do you want?’

‘Let me see your eyes,’ he said. ‘Look at me.’

Desdemona looked nervously at Emilia. ‘What horrible game is this?’

‘Attend to your business, mistress,’ said Othello, gesturing to Emilia to go. ‘Leave us to do the business. Cough or say ‘hem’ if anyone comes. To your trade!’

Emila began to protest but he swept her aside with a wave of his hand. ‘No! Go and do it!’

She left, and Desdemona went down on her knees beside him. ‘I hope my lord knows I’m honest,’ she said.

He pushed her away. ‘Yes, as summer flies are in a slaughter house, that rise up in their hordes when you just blow on them.’ He stood up and faced her. ‘Oh you weed, so beautiful and so sweet smelling that the senses ache at you, I wish you had never been born!’

She shrank away. ‘Oh, what unconscious sin have I committed?’

He stared at her for a long time.

‘Was this lovely paper, this most beautiful book, made to write ‘whore’ on? What sin have you committed? What committed! Committed? Oh, you common whore! If I were to speak your deeds it would make forges of my cheeks that would burn modesty to cinders. What committed? Heaven holds

its nose against it and the moon shuts its eyes. The promiscuous wind, that kisses everything it meets, is silenced in the bowels of the earth and won’t hear it. What committed?’ He raised his hand.

‘By heaven,’ she said in alarm. ‘You’re doing me wrong.’

‘Aren’t you a strumpet?’

‘No, as I’m a Christian. If preserving my body for my lord, from any other foul unlawful touch is not to be a strumpet them I’m not.’


‘What! Not a whore?’

‘No, as I hope to be saved.’

‘Is’t possible?’ he exclaimed.

She sank down. ‘Oh, heaven forgive us!’

‘I beg your pardon, then,’ he said. ‘I took you for that cunning whore of Venice who married Othello.’ He went to the door and called out. ‘You, mistress, who has the opposite office to Saint Peter and keeps the gate of hell!’ He opened the door and beckoned Emilia. ‘You, you, yes you. We’ve done the business.’ He pulled a purse from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Here’s money for your trouble. Lock the door and keep it quiet.’ He stormed out.

Desdemona lay, collapsed, on the floor. Emilia knelt beside her. ‘What is this gentleman up to?’ she said. She stroked Desdemona’s hair. ‘How are you madam? How are you my good lady?’

Desdemona didn’t stir. ‘Half asleep,’ she said.

‘Good madam, what’s the matter with my lord?’

‘With who?’

‘Why, with my lord, madam.’

‘Who is your lord?’

‘He that is yours, good lady.’

‘I don’t have one. Don’t talk to me Emilia. I can’t cry, and I don’t have any answers, except my tears. Please place my wedding sheets on my bed tonight. Don’t forget, and go and get your husband.’

Emilia left to do it, with the alarming thought that her mistress was behaving strangely.

Desdemona supposed it was reasonable that she should be treated like that if he felt she had done something but she wondered what it could be that she had done.

Iago and Emila came in and Iago went to her and spoke solicitously.

‘What can I do for you, madam? How are you?’


‘I don’t know,’ she said. Those that teach babies to behave do it slowly and gently. He might have reprimanded me gently because I’m not used to reprimands.’

‘What’s the matter, lady?’ said Iago.

‘Oh dear, Iago,’ said Emilia. ‘My lord has accused her of being a whore — he’s thrown such heavy things at her that are impossible for a true heart to bear.’

Desdemona looked pleadingly at Iago. ‘Am I that name, Iago?’

‘What name, fair lady?’

‘The one she said my lord said I was.’

‘He called her a whore,’ said Emilia. ‘A drunken beggar could not have called his beggar woman such a name.’

‘Why did he do that?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Desdemona. ‘I’m sure I’m not.’ She sobbed uncontrollably.

‘Don’t cry, don’t cry,’ said Iago.

‘Has she forsaken so many noble matches, her father, and her country, all her friends, to be called whore? Wouldn’t it make anyone cry?’ said Emilia.

‘It’s my wretched fortune,’ said Desdemona.

‘Shame on him for it!’ said Iago. ‘How did this come over him?’

‘Heaven only knows,’ said Desdemona.

‘I’ll be hanged if some evil villain, some devious, insinuating rogue, some deceiving, selfish rogue, to get some position, hasn’t made this slander up. I’ll be hanged otherwise,’ said Emilia.

‘Never,’ said Iago with a shocked look. ‘There is no such man. It’s impossible!’

‘If there is, heaven pardon him,’ said Desdemona.


‘A noose pardon him and hell gnaw his bones!’ said Emilia. ‘Why should he call her whore? Who has she been with? Where, when, how, what possibility? The Moor has been abused by some most villainous knave, some evil, notorious knave, some filthy fellow. Oh heaven, I wish you would expose such people and put a whip in every honest hand to lash them naked through the world, from east to west.’

‘Sh!’ said Iago. ‘Not so loud.’

‘Oh damn them,’ said Emilia. ‘It was just such a fellow who warped your mind to make you suspect me with the Moor.’

‘You’re a fool,’ said Iago. ‘Shut up.’ He put his hand out to Desdemona and helped her up to her knees.

‘Oh good Iago,’ she said. ‘What will I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him, because, by the light of heaven, I don’t how I lost him. If I ever intentionally betrayed his love, either in word or thought or deed, or if my eyes, my ears tempted me in any way, or if I do not, did not or ever won’t, love him very dearly, even though he’s shaking me off to beggarly divorce, let peace of mind abandon me forever! Unkindness is powerful and his unkindness may kill me but will never taint my love. I can’t say ‘whore’ and it horrifies me now as I speak the word. Nothing in the world could make me actually do the act that might earn the name.’

‘I beg you to have patience,’ he said. ‘It’s only his mood. The business of the state is affecting him and he’s taking it out on you.’

‘If it’s only…’

‘It is,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m sure. Listen, we’re being called to supper. The messengers from Venice are waiting to eat. Go in and don’t cry. It will all be alright.’

Emilia put her arm around Desdemona and they went out slowly. A messenger stopped Iago and told him someone was asking for him at the gate.

It was Roderigo, angry and frustrated again. ‘I don’t think you’re dealing

justly with me,’ he said.

‘Just the opposite,’ said Iago.

‘You fob me off with some new trick every day, Iago,’ said Roderigo. ‘And rather than give me hope you avoid me. I won’t take it anymore.’ He took an aggressive stance, facing Iago squarely. ‘Nor am I going to take what I’ve already foolishly suffered.’

Iago didn’t flinch. ‘Are you going to listen to me Roderigo?’

‘In faith, I’ve heard too much. Your words and actions are unrelated!’


‘You accuse me most unjustly,’ said Iago.

‘With nothing but truth,’ said Roderigo. ‘I’ve wasted all my money. The jewels I’ve given you for Desdemona would have corrupted a nun. You told me she received them and you gave me assurances of pleasure and her respect, but I find nothing.’

‘Well,’ said Iago. ‘If that’s the way you see it, that’s it. Very well.’ He turned to go and Roderigo grabbed his arm.

‘Very well? That’s it? That’s not it, man, nor is it very well. I think it’s dirty and I’m beginning to think of myself as duped by it.’

Iago removed his hand. ‘Very well,’ he said and began walking off again.

Roderigo ran after him and got in front of him. ‘I’m telling you it’s not very well,’ he said. ‘I’m going to tell Desdemona. If she will return my jewels I’ll give up my suit and apologise for my unlawful solicitation. If not, you can be sure that I’ll seek satisfaction from you!’

‘You’ve told me now,’ said Iago.

‘Yes, and said nothing except what I’m going to do.’

Iago smiled suddenly. ‘Why now, I see there’s some guts in you: and suddenly I have a better opinion of you than I had before. Give me your hand, Roderigo. I can see the justice of your case, but I still protest that I’ve dealt most directly in your interest.’

‘It doesn’t seem like it to me,’ said Roderigo.

‘I grant you, it hasn’t appeared so, and your suspicion is reasonable. But Roderigo, if you have the qualities that I now have greater reason to think you have — I mean purpose and courage and valour — show it tonight. If you don’t enjoy Desdemona tomorrow night take my life.’

Roderigo thought for a moment. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘What do I have to do? Is it reasonable and possible?’

‘Sir, there is a special commission from Venice to replace Othello with Cassio.’

‘Is that true? Well then, Othello and Desdemona will be returning to Venice.’

‘Oh no. He’s going to Mauritania and taking the beautiful Desdemona with him — unless his stay here be prolonged by some accident. Nothing can make that as sure as the removal of Cassio.’

‘What do you mean, ‘removal’.’

‘By making him incapable of Othello’s place. Knocking out his brains.’

‘And you want me to do that?’

‘Yes, if you dare do yourself a favour. He’s supping tonight with a prostitute, and I will go there to him. He doesn’t yet know of his good fortune. If you’ll lie in wait for him — I’ll arrange for him to leave between twelve and one — you can take him at your leisure. I will be nearby to support you and he’ll fall between us.’

Roderigo stared at him.

‘Come on, don’t stand there gawping. Come, walk with me. I’ll convince you of the necessity of his death; you’ll think yourself honour bound to do it. It’s almost supper time and we’re wasting time. Come on!’

They started walking. ‘I want to know more about this,’ said Roderigo.

‘And you’ll be satisfied,’ said Iago.

Modern Othello: Act 4, Scene 3

Supper was over and they all got up. Lodovico thanked Othello and was about to say goodnight when Othello invited him to take a walk on the battlements.

‘No thank you,’ he said. ‘Don’t trouble yourself any further with me.’

‘Humour me,’ said Othello. ‘A walk will do me good.’

Lodovico nodded. He turned to Desdemona. ‘Madam, good night. I humbly thank your ladyship.’

‘Your honour is most welcome,’ she said.

Othello placed his hand on Lodovico’s back. ‘Will you walk, Sir?’

They started walking, then Othello turned. ‘Oh Desdemona,’ he said.

‘My Lord?’

‘Go straight to bed. I’ll be back soon. Dismiss your attendant. Make sure you do it.’

‘I will, my lord,’ she said.

Emilia was waiting for her in the bedroom. She had seen Othello and Lodovico leaving, Othello smiling graciously with his guest. ‘How are you now?’ she said. ‘He looks gentler than he did.’

Desdemona smiled sadly. ‘He says he’ll be back soon. He’s told me to go to bed, and told me to dismiss you.’

‘Dismiss me?’


‘That was his instruction. Therefore, good Emilia, get me my night dress and goodnight. We mustn’t do anything to displease him now.’

‘I wish you’d never seen him.’

‘And I don’t! I love him so much that even his stubbornness, his reprimands, his frowns — just unpin me — appeal to me.’

‘I’ve put those wedding sheets on the bed.’

‘It makes no difference. It’s funny; how foolish we are! If I die before you, please shroud me in one of these sheets.’

‘Come come,’ said Emilia. ‘What kind of talk is that?’ She began undressing her mistress.

Desdemona sighed. ‘My mother had a maid called Barbary.’ ‘She was in love, and the man she loved proved to be mad, and forsook her. She had a song about a willow, an old song, it was, and she died singing it. I can’t get that song out of my mind tonight. I just feel like going and hanging my head down and singing it, like poor Barbary. Please, get on with it.’

‘Shall I get your night dress?’

‘No, unpin me here.’ She stood still as Emilia unpinned her dress. ‘Lodovico’s an attractive man,’ she said.

‘A very handsome man,’ said Emilia.

‘He speaks well,’ said Desdemona.

‘I know a lady in Venice who would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a kiss from him,’ said Emilia.

Desdemona hummed softly then began to sing:
‘The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow;
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
The fresh streams ran by her and murmured her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;



Her salt tears fell from her and softened the stones — ‘ She stepped out of her dress. ‘Put this away,’ she said and returned to her singing: ‘Sing willow, willow, willow… Hurry up; he’ll be here soon — Sing all a green willow, must be my garland.

Let no–body blame him; his scorn I approve — No, that doesn’t come next. Listen. Who’s knocking?’

‘It’s the wind,’ said Emilia.

‘I called my love false love, but what said he then?

Sing willow, willow, willow:

If I court more women, you’ll couch with more men; So go now. My eyes are itching. Does that mean I’m going to cry?’

‘It’s neither here nor there,’ said Emilia.

‘I’ve been told it does. Oh these men, these men! Do you really think — tell me Emilia — are there women who abuse their husbands in that terrible way?’

‘There’s no question, there are some.’

‘Would you do such a thing for all the world?’

Emilia laughed. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

‘No! By this heavenly light.’

‘Nor would I by this heavenly light. I might do it in the dark, though!’

‘But would you do such a thing for all the world?’

‘The world’s a huge thing: it’s a great price for such a small vice.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Desdemona. ‘I don’t think you would.’

‘I think I would, and immediately undo it. But seriously, I wouldn’t do such a thing for a ring, or property, or dresses or petticoats, nor hats, nor any objects of vanity. But for all the whole world! For pity’s sake, who wouldn’t make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I would risk purgatory for it.’

‘Shame on me if I would do such a wrong for the whole world!’ cried Desdemona.


Emilia laughed. ‘Why, a wrong of that kind is only a wrong in the world, and getting the whole world for your trouble it would be a wrong in a world that’s your own and so you could very quickly make it right.’

‘I don’t think there is any such woman,’ said Desdemona.

‘Oh, there are dozens,’ said Emilia. ‘But I really do think it’s their husbands’ fault if a wife falls. What if they neglect their duty and allow their treasure to be poured into the laps of other men? Or have peevish outbursts of jealousy, restricting us? Or let’s say they hit us or look down on what they used to like? The fact is we have gall as well as grace and need to get our own back. Husbands ought to know that their wives are no different from them: they see and smell, they have the same palates, sensitive to sweet and sour, just as their husbands’ are. What’s going on when they exchange us for others? Is it for fun? I think it is. And is it brought on by desire? I think it is. And isn’t it weakness that causes it? I think that too. And don’t we have desires, the need for fun, and aren’t we weak, just as men are? So they should be good to us, because they should understand that the bad things we do are learnt from them.’

She had finished preparing her mistress for bed. Desdemona waved her away. ‘Good night, good night. May God help me not to follow bad examples but to improve myself by them.’

Modern Othello: Act 5, Scene 1

Iago half pushed Roderigo towards the jutting corner of the castle. ‘Here, stand behind this bulk,’ he said. ‘He’ll be here instantly. Keep your sword out and ready. Quickly. Don’t be nervous; I’ll be at your elbow. This is going to make or break us — just think about that, and be firm in your resolution.

‘Stay near at hand, I may fail in it,’ said Roderigo.

‘I’ll be right here. Be brave. And take your stand.’ Iago retired to the shadows where he couldn’t be seen, leaving Roderigo in a state of some bewilderment as to why he should be about to kill a man when he had no real cause for it.

He watched Roderigo rehearsing his attack with fancy steps and a good deal of thrusting. Roderigo was becoming impatient, angry. He had rubbed the idiot to the skin, like a pimple. Whatever happened would be his gain, though — whether Roderigo killed Cassio or Cassio killed Roderigo or they both killed each other. If Roderigo lived he would bring him to account for the gold and jewels he’d taken off him as gifts for Desdemona. That mustn’t be allowed to happen. If Cassio lived he had a daily beauty in his life that would reflect on him, making him look ugly in comparison. And anyway, the Moor might expose him to Cassio. That was a great danger. No, Cassio must die. And here he was!

‘It’s him!’ exclaimed Roderigo. ‘I recognise his walk.’

He rushed forward to confront Cassio and before Cassio could draw his sword he had thrust at him. Cassio moved fast and stood, positioned to defend himself.

‘That thrust would have done for me if my coat hadn’t been so much better than you had thought,’ said Cassio. ‘Now I’m going to test yours!’ and he plunged his sword into Roderigo’s side.

‘He’s killed me!’ shouted Roderigo and he dropped to his knees.


Iago had remained concealed throughout and now he came up behind Cassio, swiped at his leg with his sword and retreated, disappearing into the shadows again.

Cassio fell down, clutching his leg. ‘Help!’ he shouted. ‘Murder! I’ve been maimed! Help!’

Othello, having heard all the shouting, came out on to a balcony. It was Cassio’s voice, crying murder. Iago had kept his word. The scene before him told the story of what had happened. Roderigo was on his knees, holding his side, and Cassio lay moaning on the ground. Then he yelled again: ‘Help! Light! A surgeon!’

Yes, it was Cassio! Oh brave, honest, loyal Iago. He had such a noble sense of his friend’s grievance that he put Othello to shame. Othello was fired up. Darling, he thought, your lover is lying here dead and your own terrible fate is near. Whore, I’m on my way! All your beauty is doomed. Your lust–stained bed is about to be soiled with your lustful blood. He turned and went in.

Lodovico and Gratiano had come out to see what all the noise was about. Cassio, unable to get up, was shouting as loudly as he could. ‘Where’s the guard?’ Murder! Murder!’

‘This is a bad business,’ said Gratiano. ‘Sounds serious.’

They couldn’t see much in the dark but they made their way towards the commotion — both Cassio and Roderigo shouting for help. When they got near Lodovico put a hand on Gratiano’s arm. ‘There are two or three of them,’ he said. ‘It may be a trap. Let’s be careful, we need some help.’ They paused and listened. Roderigo was crying out: ‘Nobody coming? I’m going to bleed to death!’

A light appeared from somewhere. ‘Look,’ said Gratiano. ‘Someone’s coming, with light and weapons.’

It was Iago, carrying a lamp. ‘Who’s there?’ he said. ‘Who’s crying murder?’

‘We don’t know,’ said Lodovico.

‘Didn’t you hear someone shouting?’ said Iago.

Cassio, hearing voices, tried again. ‘Here, here. For heaven’s sake, help me!’

Iago rushed to him. ‘What’s the matter?’ he said.

‘I think this is Othello’s Ancient,’ said Gratiano.

‘It is,’ said Lodovico. ‘A very valiant fellow.’

‘Who is this, crying so grievously?’ said Iago.


‘Iago?’ said Cassio. ‘Is that you? I’ve been destroyed by villains. Help me.’

Iago knelt down beside the Lieutenant. ‘Oh dear, Lieutenant! What villains have done this?’

‘I think one of them is here somewhere. He’s wounded, and can’t run away.’

‘Oh the treacherous villain,’ exclaimed Iago, spinning round and drawing his sword at the same time. ‘Who are you?’ he said, to Roderigo. Come and help me.’

‘He’s one of them,’ said Cassio.

Iago sprang up and advanced on Roderigo. ‘You murderous slave, you villain!’ he shouted, and stabbed him.

Roderigo looked at him, astonished. ‘Damned Iago,’ he spat. ‘Inhuman dog!’ And he fainted.

‘Kill men in the dark, do you?’ said Iago. He looked around. ‘Where are these murderous thieves? Why is everything so quiet? Help! Ho! Murder! Murder!’

Gratiano and Lodovico came forward and Iago stopped them with his drawn sword. ‘Who are you? Friend or foe?’

‘You know us,’ said Lodovico.

Iago paused. ‘Signior Lodovico?

‘Yes, Sir.’

Iago put his sword away. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. ‘This is Cassio, hurt by villains.’

Gratiano was already at Cassio’s side. ‘Cassio?’ he said.

Iago joined him at Cassio’s side. ‘How are you, brother?’

‘My leg has been cut in two,’ groaned Cassio.

‘Heaven forbid!’ said Iago. ‘Light, please, gentlemen. I’ll bind it with my shirt.’

He pulled his shirt off and began bandaging Cassio’s wound. A woman came up behind him. It was Bianca. ‘What’s the matter?’ she said. ‘Who was doing that shouting?’

‘Who’s that?’ said Iago.


Bianca recognised Cassio and dropped down at his side. ‘Oh my darling Cassio, my sweet Cassio.’ She stroked his hair and moaned softly. ‘Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio.’

Iago turned to the Venetian visitors. ‘A notorious whore,’ he said. ‘Cassio, do you have any suspicion as to who it is who has mangled you?’

‘No.’

‘I’m sorry to find you like this,’ said Gratiano. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Lend me one of your garters,’ said Iago, and Bianca swiftly removed one. ‘We need a chair to carry him in.’

‘Oh, he’s fainting,’ said Bianca. ‘Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!’

‘Gentleman,’ said Iago. ‘I suspect this trash of being a party to this injury. Just have patience, good Cassio.’ He went over to Roderigo. ‘Come come, give me a light. Let’s see if any of us knows him.’

Roderigo lay, as though dead, on the ground. When they illuminated his face Iago gasped. ‘Oh, is this my friend and dear countryman, Roderigo? No, can’t be — yes, it is. Oh heaven, it’s Roderico!’

‘What?’ said Gratiano. ‘Of Venice?’

‘The same,’ said Iago. ‘Did you know him?’

‘Know him? Yes, I did.’

Iago turned to him. ‘Signor Gratiano,’ he said. ‘I must apologise. These terrible matters must excuse my manners towards you.’

‘I’m glad to see you,’ said Gratiano.

Iago turned back to Cassio. ‘How are you, Cassio? A chair, a chair!’

Gratiano shook his head. ‘Roderigo!’ he said.

Iago shook his head too, as though unable to believe it. ‘He, he, it’s he.’

Attendants arrived with a chair. ‘Ah, good timing,’ said Iago. ‘Take him gently away from here. I’ll get the General’s surgeon.’ Bianca was trying to help them lift him. ‘As for you, mistress,’ he said. ‘Save your energy.’ As Cassio was lifted on to the chair he said: ‘This fellow lying dead here, Cassio, was a dear friend of mine. What ill feeling was there between you?’


‘None whatsoever,’ gasped Cassio. ‘Nor do I know him.’

‘Why are you looking so pale?’ Iago was examining Bianca’s face. ‘Come on,’ he said to the attendants. ‘Take him out of the open air.’ Then back to Bianca. ‘Why are you so pale, mistress? Can you see the guilty look in her eye? Oh no, there’s more to this. Watch her well. Look at her. Can you see, gentlemen? I tell you, guiltiness shows itself even without speech.’

Emilia arrived as Cassio was being carried away. ‘What’s the matter?

What’s the matter, husband?’

‘Cassio’s been attacked here in the dark by Roderico and other fellows who have escaped. He’s almost dead, and Roderigo is.’

‘Alas, poor fellow. Alas, good Cassio!’

‘This is the result of whoring,’ said Iago. ‘Emilia, please go and ask Cassio where he dined this evening.’ He turned to Bianca. ‘What? Does that make you tremble?’

‘He ate at my house,’ she told him. ‘But I’m not trembling at it.’

‘Oh did he?’ Iago went right up to her. ‘I’m arresting you.’

‘Oh, shame on you, whore!’ said Emilia.

‘I’m not a whore, but as decent as you who are abusing me!’

‘As I?’ Emilia was incensed. ‘Foh. Shame on you!’

‘Gentlemen,’ said Iago. ‘Let’s go and get Cassio seen to.’ He put his hand roughly on Bianca’s shoulder. ‘Come on mistress, you’re going to have to tell us a different story. Emilia, run ahead to the citadel and tell Othello and Desdemona what has happened.’

He had taken charge of it all and everyone was doing as he commanded. He knew that this night would either make or break him.

Modern Othello: Act 5, Scene 2


Othello stood at the side of the bed and gazed down at the sleeping Desdemona.

‘That’s the reason,’ he said. ‘For that reason, my love. I can’t utter its name before the chaste heavens, but that’s the reason. And yet I won’t shed her blood or leave any mark on that whiter skin of hers than snow, and as smooth as alabaster used for sculpture. But she must die or she’ll betray other men. Put out the light first and then put out her light. If I quench you you flaming torch I can light you again if I change my mind. But if I put out your light, you deceptive picture of natural perfection, I don’t know any kind of heat that can restore your light. Once I have plucked your rose I can’t restore it to life; it must necessarily wither. ‘I’ll smell it while it’s still on the tree.’

He bent over her and kissed her gently. ‘Oh sweet breath that almost persuades me to change my mind. Once more, once more.’ He kissed her again. ‘If you are so beautiful when you are dead then I will kill you and keep loving you. Once more, and this is the last.’ He kissed her again. ‘Something so sweet was never so fatal. I must weep. But these are cruel tears. This is a holy sorrow — it hits where it loves.’ He drew in his breath. ‘She’s waking up!’

Desdemona smiled and reached towards him. ‘Who’s there?’ She opened her eyes and recognised him. ‘Othello?’

‘Yes, Desdemona,’ he said sadly.

‘Do you want to come to bed?’ she said.

‘Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona?’ he said.

‘Yes my lord.’

‘If you can think of any crime that you haven’t reconciled with heaven, pray for that immediately.’


‘What could you mean by that?’ she said.

‘Just do it and hurry,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait. I don’t want to kill your unprepared soul. No, heaven forbid, I don’t want to kill your soul.’

‘Are you talking about killing?’

‘Yes, I am.’

Desdemona withdrew to the other side of the bed. ‘Then heaven have mercy on me!’

‘Amen, with all my heart!’

‘If you’re saying that I hope you won’t kill me.’

Othello cleared his throat.

‘And yet I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘Because you’re murderous when your eyes roll like that. I don’t know why I should be afraid because I don’t feel guilty about anything. But it’s fear I’m feeling.’

‘Think about your sins.’

‘They are only the love I have for you.’

‘Yes, and its for that that you’re dying.’

‘It’s unnatural to kill someone for loving,’ she said. ‘Why are you chewing your lower lip like that? Some terrible passion is shaking your whole body. These are signs of something but I hope against hope they’re not pointing at me.’

‘Stop! And be quiet.’

‘I will — there. What’s the matter?’

He sat down on the bed and stared at her. ‘That handkerchief that I loved so much and gave you, you gave to Cassio.’

‘No!’ She looked shocked. ‘On my life and soul! Send for the man and ask him.’

‘Sweet soul, be careful — be careful of perjury: you’re on your deathbed.’


‘Yes, but not to die yet.’

‘Yes, very soon. Therefore, confess your sin freely, because denying any of it under oath can’t remove my strong belief in your guilt. You’re going to die.’

‘Then Lord have mercy on me!’

‘Amen to that.’

‘And you have mercy on me too! I’ve never offended you in my life! I never loved Cassio except for what is acceptable. I never gave him any token.’

‘By heaven!’ roared Othello. ‘I saw my handkerchief in his hand! Oh you perjured woman, you make my heart like stone and make me think of what I’m going to do as a murder rather than a sacrifice. I saw the handkerchief!’

‘Then he found it. I never gave it to him. Send for him, let him admit the truth.’

‘He has confessed.’

‘What?’

‘That he has used you.’

‘How? Illicitly?’

‘Yes.’

‘He wouldn’t say that!’

‘No, his mouth has been stopped. Honest Iago has taken care of that.’

‘Oh, is it what I fear? What? Is he dead?’

‘If all his hairs had been lives my great revenge would have had stomach for them all.’

‘Alas then, he has been betrayed, and I’ve been undone.’

She broke down then, and that enraged Othello. ‘Out, whore!’ he stormed. ‘Weeping for him to my face!’

‘Oh banish me, my lord,’ she wailed, and clutched at his gown, ‘but don’t kill me.’


‘Down, whore!’ He pushed her away.

‘Kill me tomorrow!’ she pleaded. ‘Let me live tonight.’

‘No. If you try…’

‘Just half an hour!’

‘Having decided, there’s no stopping.’

‘Just while I say one prayer!’

He pushed her down and lifted a pillow. ‘It’s too late.’ He thrust the pillow over her face and held it down.

She struggled wildly. ‘Oh Lord! Lord! Lord!’

There was a banging on the door and Emilia’s voice, urgently: ‘My lord, my lord, my lord!’

‘What noise is this?’ said Othello. Desdemona was still moving. ‘Not dead?’ he said. ‘Not quite dead? I may be cruel but I’m still merciful. I wouldn’t have you lingering in your pain.’ He applied more pressure to the pillow. ‘So, so.’

The banging got louder. ‘What, ho! My lord! My lord!’

‘Who’s that?’ called Othello.

‘My lord, I’d like a word with you,’ said Emilia.

Yes, it was Emilia. ‘Bye and bye,’ he called.

Desdemona was dead. Emilia had probably come to tell him about Cassio’s death. She was making enough noise. He looked down at Desdemona. There was no more movement — still as the grave. Should he let Emilia in? Would that be wise? Was Desdamona moving again? No. What should he do? If she came in she would speak to his wife. His wife! His wife! What wife? He had no wife. Oh, insupportable! Oh heavy hour! There should now be a huge eclipse of the sun and moon, making the whole earth feel it.

Emilia was still out there. ‘Oh my good lord! I beg of you, I need to talk to you.’

‘I had forgotten about you.’ Said Othello. ‘Come in, Emilia. Wait. In a minute. Let me draw the curtains.’

When he opened the door she hurried in. ‘What’s the matter with you now?’ he said.


‘Oh my good lord, foul murder’s been done out there,’ she said.

‘What!’ Now?’

‘Right now,’ she said.

‘It’s the moon,’ he said. ‘She’s closer to the earth than usual and making men go mad.’

‘My lord, Cassio’s killed a young Venetian named Roderigo.’

‘Roderigo’s killed? And Cassio? Killed too?’

‘No,’ she said impatiently. Cassio’s not been killed.’

‘Cassio not killed! Then murder’s not doing its job and the sweetness of revenge has soured.’

Just then a faint cry came from the bed. ‘O, falsely, falsely murdered!’

‘Lord!’ cried Emilia. ‘What cry is that?’

‘That! What?’ said Othello.

‘Oh God,’ said Emilia. ‘That’s my lady’s voice.’ She ran to the bed and drew the curtain back. Desdemona lay there, semi–conscious, moving her head almost imperceptibly.

‘Help! Help!’ cried Emilia. ‘Ho, help.’ She began slapping Desdemona’s face. ‘Oh lady, speak again,’ she said, again and again. ‘Sweet Desdemona.’

Othello stood by the door, unmoving and silent, watching. Desdemona stirred. ‘A guiltless death I die,’ she murmured.

‘Oh, who has done this?’ said Emilia. She put her ear close to Desdemona’s mouth.

‘Nobody,’ said Desdemona. ‘I myself — farewell. Commend me to my kind lord.’ She tried to raise herself then fell back. ‘Farewell,’ she said, and Emilia could see that she was dead.

Othello came forward. ‘How could she have been murdered?’ he said.

Emilia looked up at him through her tears. ‘Alas, who knows?’ she said.

‘You heard her say herself that it wasn’t I,’ said Othello.


‘She said so.’ Emilia looked doubtful. ‘I have to tell the truth.’

Othello paced for a moment then turned to Emilia. ‘She’s like a liar gone to burning hell! It was I who killed her!’

‘Oh the more angel she is then, and you the blacker devil,’ said Emilia.

‘She turned to folly and she was a whore!’ said Othello.

‘You’re slandering her and you’re a devil!’

‘She was as false as water,’ he said.

‘You’re as rash as fire to say that she was unfaithful. Oh, she was heavenly faithful.’

‘Cassio had her. Ask your husband. If I hadn’t done this without just cause I would be damned to the lowest level of hell. Your husband knew everything.’

‘My husband!’

‘Your husband.’

‘That she was unfaithful?’

‘Yes, with Cassio. No, if she had been faithful, if heaven had made me a gem the size of the world I wouldn’t have sold her for it.’

‘My husband!’

‘Yes, it was he who told me about it first. He’s an honest man and hates the slime that sticks to filthy deeds.’

‘My husband!’

‘Why do you need to keep repeating it. I said your husband.’

Emilia looked at Desdemona’s still body. ‘Oh mistress, villainy has made a mockery of love.’ She looked up at Othello again. ‘My husband said that she was unfaithful?’

‘He, woman. I say your husband. Do you understand the word? My friend, your husband, honest, honest Iago.’

‘If he said that then may his evil soul rot slowly in hell. He lies to the core. She was too fond of her filthy marriage to you.’

Othello sprang at her and only just stopped himself from taking hold of her. She didn’t flinch.

‘Do your worst,’ she said. ‘This act was no more worthy of heaven than you were worthy of her.’

‘You’d better be quiet,’ he said, threatening her again.

Again, she didn’t flinch. ‘You don’t have half the power to do me harm that I have to be hurt. Oh you gullible fool. As ignorant as dirt! You have done a deed…’

He drew his sword.

‘I’m not afraid of your sword,’ she said. ‘I’m going to expose you, even if I should lose twenty lives. She began to shout. Help! Help, help, help! The Moor has killed my mistress! Murder! Murder!’

She continued to shout, while Othnello stood, frozen. The door was still open and after a minute Montano and Gratiano, followed by Iago, arrived, running.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Gratiano, and stopped when he saw Othello. ‘How now General,’ he said.

When Emilia saw her husband she jumped from the bed. ‘Oh, you’re here too, Iago? You’ve done well that men should blame their murders on you!’ she said.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Gratiano.

‘Go on,’ Emilia was saying. ‘Contradict this villain, if you’re a man. He says you told him that his wife was unfaithful. I know you didn’t. I know you’re not such a villain.’

Iago said nothing.

‘Speak,’ she said, ‘because my heart is full.’

‘I told him what I thought,’ said Iago. ‘And no more than what he found out for himself.’

‘But did you ever say she was unfaithful?’

‘I did.’

‘You told a lie!’ she screamed. ‘An odious, damned lie! Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie! She unfaithful with Cassio! Is that what you told him? With Cassio?’

‘With Cassio, mistress. Now shut up.’

‘I will not shut up. I have to speak out: my mistress is lying here murdered in her bed.’

Montano and Gratiano, realising for the first time what had happened, were horrified.

‘And your lies caused this murder!’ Emilia continued.

‘No, don’t stare like that, gentlemen,’ said Othello, ‘it’s indeed true.’

‘It’s a strange truth then,’ said Gratiano.

‘Oh monstrous!’ said Montano.

Emilia began her shouting again: ‘Villainy, villainy, villainy! When I think about it, I smelt it. Oh villainy! I thought there was something villainous. I’ll kill myself with grief. Oh villainy, villainy!’

‘What? Are you mad?’ said Iago. ‘I order you to go home.’

‘Gentlemen,’ she said. ‘Let me have my say. I know I should obey him, but not now. Perhaps, Iago, I’ll never go home.’

Othello lay down beside Desdemona’s body and began moaning and weeping.

‘You can well lie down there and roar,’ said Emilia, ‘for you have killed the sweetest, most innocent, creature that ever was born.’

He got up again and faced the visitors. ‘Oh she was foul,’ he said.’ I hardly knew you, Uncle,’ he said to Gratiano. ‘There’s your niece lying there, who I have, indeed, killed. I realise this act seems horrible and grim.’

Gratiano wiped the tear that rolled down his cheek. ‘Poor Desdemona,’ he said. I’m glad your father’s dead — your marriage killed him, and pure grief cut his soul in two. If he were alive now, this sight would make him do something desperate. Yes, he would abandon the better side of himself and do some evil.’

‘It’s pitiful,’ said Othello. ‘But Iago knows that she committed this act of shame with Cassio a thousand times. Cassio confessed it, and she rewarded his amorous acts with that token of love that I gave her. I saw it in his hand. It was a handkerchief, a family token that my father gave my mother.’

‘Oh God!’ screamed Emilia. She pointed at Iago. ‘Oh heavenly powers!’

‘For God’s sake, shut up!’ Iago’s face was threatening.

‘It will out, it will out!’ she said. ‘I shut up? No, I’ll speak as freely as the north wind. Let heaven and human beings and devils all cry shame against me, I’ll still speak out!’

Iago moved towards her. ‘Be wise and go home.’

‘I won’t,’ she said.

He drew his sword then, and held it pointed towards her.

Gratiano gasped. ‘For shame! Your sword on a woman!’

Emilia ignored her furious husband and his drawn sword. ‘Oh you stupid Moor,’ she said. ‘That handkerchief you’re talking about, I found it by chance and gave it to my husband because he had begged me with a great earnestness out of proportion to such a small thing..’

‘Villainous whore!’ Iago tried again to intimidate her with his sword, but she ignored him.

‘She gave it to Cassio? No, sadly, I found it and gave it to my husband.’

‘Filth!’ exclaimed Iago. ‘You’re lying.’

‘By heaven, I’m not!’ She appealed to the others. ‘I’m not, gentlemen. Oh, the murderous fool. How could such a fool have such a good wife?’

Othello suddenly drew his sword and drew his arm back to thrust at Iago. ‘Are the stones in heaven only for making thunder and not for punishing such villians?’ he roared.

Montano moved quickly, pulled at his arm, twisted, it and forced him to drop his sword. While that was happening, Iago stabbed Emilia in her back and ran out of the room.

‘The woman is falling!’ shouted Gratiano. ‘He’s killed his wife!’

Emilia lay, groaning, on the floor. ‘Oh, lie me at my mistress’ side,’ she moaned.

Gratiano and Montano lifted her onto the bed.

‘He’s gone,’ said Gratiano, ‘but his wife’s dead.’

‘What a villain!’ said Montano. He beckoned one of the attendants. ‘Here, take this sword that I’ve confiscated from the Moor. Go and guard the castle gate. Don’t let him pass — kill him rather. I’ll go and look for him myself: he’s a damned villain.’

Montano and Gratiano hurried out. Othello slumped down on a chair and placed his head in his hands. He was useless when any puny fellow could take his sword. But what did it matter? Let it go.

Emilia was bleeding profoundly, and gasping for breath. ‘What did that song mean, lady?’ she whispered. ‘Listen, can you hear me now? I’ll be like a swan and die in music. Willow, willow, willow.’ She tried to sit up. ‘Moor, she was chaste. She loved you, cruel Moor. So my soul is saved as I speak the truth. So speaking out my thoughts, I die, I die.’

Othello stood up and looked around. He had another sword somewhere in the room, a sharp Spanish sword. Ah, there it was. ‘Uncle,’ he called, ‘I have to come out.’

Gratiano was in the passage outside the room. ‘If you try it,’ he said, ‘it will cost you dear. You have no weapon and will just have to put up with that.’

‘Come in here then, and talk to me, or, naked as I am, I’ll attack you.’

He stood at the bedside, holding the sword and when Gratiano came in he said, ‘Look, I have a weapon. There was never a better sword on a soldier’s thigh. I’ve seen the time when, with this little arm and this good sword, I have made my way through twenty times the amount of obstacles that you present. But, vain boast, I couldn’t do that now. Don’t be afraid, even though I have a weapon. This is my journey’s end, this is my last ship. Why are you backing away? It’s a waste of time. Mount just one rush against my breast and I’ll give up. Where can Othello go?’

He went back to the bed and knelt at its side. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘what do you look like now? Oh, ill–starred girl! Pale as your night dress. When we meet at the accounting place this look of yours will hurl my soul from heaven and devils will snatch at it.’

He took her hand. ‘Cold, cold, my girl,’ he said. ‘Just like your chastity.’

He looked up to the ceiling. ‘O, cursed, cursed slave,’ he roared. ‘Whip me away, you devils, from this heavenly sight. Blow me about in winds! Roast me in sulphur! Wash me in steep–sided gulfs of liquid fire!’ He lifted her body and held it against his. ‘Oh Desdemona! Dead Desdemona! Dead! Oh! Oh!’

Montano came in leading a group comprised of Lodovico, Cassio, in a chair, carried in by attendants and Iago, guarded by soldiers.

‘Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?’ said Lodovico.

‘That’s he that was Othello,’ said Othello. He stood up. ‘Here I am.’

‘And where’s that viper?’ said Lodovico, turning to look at the captive Iago. ‘Bring him here.’

Othello stepped forward and stood in front of Iago. ‘There’s nothing I can do,’ he said. He drew his sword. ‘If you are a devil I can’t kill you.’ He plunged his sword into Iago’s chest. Iago gasped and stepped back

‘Wrench his sword from him!’ shouted Lodovico and two soldiers grabbed the sword. Othello didn’t resist. Lodovico put his hand on Iago’s shoulder.

‘I bleed, sir, but I’m not killed,’ said Iago.

‘I’m not sorry about that,’ said Othello, ‘because the way I’m feeling, dying would be happiness.’

Lodovico stared at Othello and shook his head. ‘Oh you, Othello, who was once so good’ he said. ‘Fallen into such evil. What can one say to you?’

‘You can say anything,’ said Othello. ‘You could call me an honourable murderer. I didn’t do it in hate, but in honour.’

‘This wretch has partly confessed his villainy. Did you and he conspire to kill Cassio?’

‘Yes,’ said Othello.

Cassio tried to raise himself from his chair. ‘Dear General, I never gave you cause.’

‘I know,’ said Othello, ‘and I ask your pardon.’ He looked around at the men who stood, bewildered and shocked. ‘Will you, I pray, ask that demi–devil why he has ensnared my body and soul?’

Iago snarled at him. ‘Ask me nothing,’ he said. ‘You know what you know. From this moment I won’t speak a word.’

‘What?’ said Lodovico. ‘Not even to pray?’

‘Torture will open his mouth,’ said Gratiano.

‘Well its best that you don’t say anything,’ said Othello and turned away from him.

Lodovico held some letters. ‘Sir,’ he said. ‘I will explain what’s happened, which, I believe, you don’t understand. Here is a letter that was found in the pocket of the dead Roderigo, and here’s another. One commissions the death of Cassio, to be undertook by Roderigo.’

‘Oh villain!’ said Othello.

‘Most unholy and most foul!’ said Cassio.

‘Now here’s a second letter,’ said Lodovico. ‘Also found in his pocket. It seems that he meant to send this one to this damned villain but, it seems, Iago killed him before it could be sent.’

‘Oh, the pernicious rascal!’ said Othello. ‘How did you get hold of my wife’s handkerchief, Cassio?’

‘I found it in my room. And he confessed just a moment ago that he dropped it there for his special purposes.’

Othello beat his head. ‘Oh fool, fool, fool!’

‘And, in addition,’ continued Cassio, ‘in Roderigo’s letter he complains to Iago about the fact that he made him attack me on the watch, the incident that led to my dismissal. And just a moment ago he spoke, after having appeared to be dead — Iago wounded him, Iago was the one who set upon him.’

Lodovico drew himself up and faced Othello. ‘You must leave this room and go with us,’ he said. ‘Your authority and your command have been removed and Cassio now rules in Cyrus. As for this slave, if there’s any bad torture that can be devised and prolongued, he will have it. You will remain under close arrest until the Venetian state knows about your crime. Come! Take him away.’ Lodovico turned to go.

As the guards were about to escort him out Othello held his hand up. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘A word or two before you go. I have served the state well and they know it. Anyway, that’s over. I ask that when you make your report about these unfortunate matters you speak of me as I am. Don’t elaborate, nor write down anything out of spite. Then you’ll be speaking about someone who didn’t love wisely, but too well; of one not easily made jealous but, being manipulated, provoked to the extreme; of one whose hand, like the base Indian, threw away a pearl richer than all his tribe; of one whose eyes, although unused to crying, drop tears as readily as Arabian trees shed their medicinal gum. Write that down. And also say that once in Aleppo where a malignant and turbaned Turk insulted us by beating a Venetian I took the circumcised dog by the throat…’ Othello reached towards the mattress and pulled a dagger from beneath it. ‘And killed him…’ He stabbed himself in the chest with tremendous force — ‘… like this!’

They rushed towards him and Montano grabbed the dagger, but it was too late.

‘Oh violent end!’ said Lodovico.

‘He’s spoilt everything that he spoke,’ said Gratiano.

Othello, gasping, fell on to the bed and again, and with great effort, raised Desdemona’s body. ‘I kissed you before I killed you,’ he said. ‘There was no other way but this, in killing myself, but to die on a kiss.’ He fell, lifeless, beside Desdemona.

‘I was afraid of this,’ said Cassio. ‘I thought he didn’t have a weapon, though.’

It was a pitiful scene and they all gazed on it in silence. Then Lodovico spoke: ‘Oh Spartan dog!’ he said, addressing Iago. ‘More deadly than pain, hunger or the sea. Look at the tragic loading of this bed. This is your work! It poisons our sight. Hide it!’

An attendant drew the curtains.

Lodovico addressed Gratiano. ‘Do an inventory of the Moor’s possessions and take them, because you’re his heir.’ He turned to Montano. ‘To you, Lord Governor, there remains the punishment of this hellish villain. The time, the place, the torture — oh, enforce it! I’m going back to Venice immediately, to relate this heavy act with a heavy heart.’