The Tragedy of Othello, Moor of Venice. Уильям Шекспир. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Уильям Шекспир
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Жанр произведения: Драматургия
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to the Moor, my lord.

        BRABANTIO. God be with you! I have done.

          Please it your Grace, on to the state affairs;

          I had rather to adopt a child than get it.

          Come hither, Moor.

          I here do give thee that with all my heart

          Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart

          I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,

          I am glad at soul I have no other child;

          For thy escape would teach me tyranny,

          To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.

        DUKE. Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence

          Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers

          Into your favor.

          When remedies are past, the griefs are ended

          By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.

          To mourn a mischief that is past and gone

          Is the next way to draw new mischief on.

          What cannot be preserved when Fortune takes,

          Patience her injury a mockery makes.

          The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief;

          He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

        BRABANTIO. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;

          We lose it not so long as we can smile.

          He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears

          But the free comfort which from thence he hears;

          But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow

          That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.

          These sentences, to sugar or to gall,

          Being strong on both sides, are equivocal.

          But words are words; I never yet did hear

          That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.

          I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.

        DUKE. The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus.

          Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you; and

          though we have there a substitute of most allowed

      sufficiency,

          yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more

      safer

          voice on you. You must therefore be content to slubber the

      gloss

          of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and boisterous

          expedition.

        OTHELLO. The tyrant custom, most grave senators,

          Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war

          My thrice-driven bed of down. I do agnize

          A natural and prompt alacrity

          I find in hardness and do undertake

          These present wars against the Ottomites.

          Most humbly therefore bending to your state,

          I crave fit disposition for my wife,

          Due reference of place and exhibition,

          With such accommodation and besort

          As levels with her breeding.

        DUKE. If you please,

          Be't at her father's.

        BRABANTIO. I'll not have it so.

        OTHELLO. Nor I.

        DESDEMONA. Nor I. I would not there reside

          To put my father in impatient thoughts

          By being in his eye. Most gracious Duke,

          To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear,

          And let me find a charter in your voice

          To assist my simpleness.

        DUKE. What would you, Desdemona?

        DESDEMONA. That I did love the Moor to live with him,

          My downright violence and storm of fortunes

          May trumpet to the world. My heart's subdued

          Even to the very quality of my lord.

          I saw Othello's visage in his mind,

          And to his honors and his valiant parts

          Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.

          So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,

          A moth of peace, and he go to the war,

          The rites for which I love him are bereft me,

          And I a heavy interim shall support

          By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

        OTHELLO. Let her have your voices.

          Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not

          To please the palate of my appetite,

          Nor to comply with heat- the young affects

          In me defunct- and proper satisfaction;

          But to be free and bounteous to her mind.

          And heaven defend your good souls, that you think

          I will your serious and great business scant

          For she is with me. No, when light-wing'd toys

          Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dullness

          My speculative and officed instruments,

          That my disports corrupt and taint my business,

          Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,

          And all indign and base adversities

          Make head against my estimation!

        DUKE. Be it as you shall privately determine,

          Either for her stay or going. The affair cries haste,

          And speed must answer't: you must hence tonight.

        DESDEMONA. Tonight, my lord?

        DUKE. This night.

        OTHELLO. With all my heart.

        DUKE. At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again.

          Othello, leave some officer behind,

          And he shall our commission bring to you,

          With such things else of quality and respect

          As doth import you.

        OTHELLO. So please your Grace, my ancient;

          A man he is of honesty and trust.

          To his conveyance I assign my wife,

          With what else needful your good Grace shall think

          To