Othello

I.0.5
Midnightly walking with that fool, Roderigo,
my cool for the heat of his love rightly sought, in
ambulation and conversation did we go
to circling the site of the Senator’s mansion.
Perchance did we spy Desdemona—his daughter
and object of Roderigo’s madcap passions—
flee her fenestrade. Surprised so, we sought her
purpose, purveying ourselves in secret fashion.
Her fever’d pace we follow’d through the darken’d streets
‘til finally we found her footsteps falling fast
upon Othello’s doorstep, where the Gen’ral greets
her with, to our surprise, a kiss! and sighs, “At last.”
As doubtless to the chapel they elope, we must
alert Brabantio, who’ll end this hopeful lust.

I.1.5
We have awake’d the Senator, who doubtless finds
his Desdemona absent from her bed. Alarmed,
he now with Roderigo quick will form alliance
to march against Othello, bearing men well-arm’d.
Brabantio with witchcraft sure will charge the Moor
to make the filial treason more the bearable,
believing nothing else accounts for his allure
in making Desdemona’s fields moor-arable.
I now to this abhorred Moor who still commands
the seem of my allegiance and will him forwarn
that lawful men are come to chain his seasoned hands
and so, by seeming true, will keep my honor sworn.
Persuade him, p’raps I will, to flee and thus admit
apparent fault for crimes he never could commit.

I.2.5 - II.0.5
The Turks ‘gainst Cyprus all arrayed do cause the Duke
to send Othello thence, myself to follow swift,
and his purloined marriage now without rebuke,
his Desdemona fairly follows with in thrift.
In secrecy I Roderigo did convince
she was not lost, and so he to the wars does sail.
O, wretched fool! The reasons I have sent you thence
are not for her, but you my coffers there to fill!
And these embattled ships on stormy seas may yet
prove true my base intents; Othello’s unseen sails
as we draw near may still portend his life forfeit
to passage fraught with tempests fierce and mortal gales.
I disembark, from Montano to hear the scope
of damage done, and reconcile myself to hope.

II.1.5 - II.2.5
The Moor, in jubilation, calls himself a feast
and bids the merriment of all to celebrate
his nuptials and the fortune of the Turks’ defeat
while here I sit, enmasked, nursing secret hate.
And there sits smiling Cassio, Lieutenant for
the war-like Moor, who sleeps upon suspicion of
his weakness for the drink. The guests in faith infer
his goblet’s full, but we’ll ensure he’s had enough.
Just one drink more and Cassio’s gentle temperance
will tested be by Roderigo’s smooth provoke,
with pugilism will reward his insolence
and by the public measure will his place unyoke.
This plot ‘gainst Michael Cassio I shan’t reveal
‘til Fortune helps this Florentine’s good name to steal.

III.0.5 - III.2.5
Oh noble Florentine, how far hast thou fallen
from our lord the war-like Moor’s favor, I know none;
but fight you did Montano, finding your fall in
your fell weapon’s wounding of his worthy person.
How now shall I match Michael Cassio’s harming
with our moor lord’s fall from his fortunes at Cyprus?
Send Cassio calling in manner most ‘larming
t’entreat Desdemona’s fair favors at night’s crest.
For jealous Othello’s a fellow so simple
to trick with swift words, showing no jurisprudence
about him. This flaw I’ll exploit as I’m ample
and silver-tongu’d sorc’ry shall undo his essence.
This mountain of man the foul Moor manifested
will squelch ‘neath my boot when by jealousy’s bested.

III.3.5 - IV.0.5
Forsooth, my plan to full fruition comes, as’t must,
far swifter than, in fullest faith, I’d thought it might:
the invocation of her father’s fair distrust
brings fairly Desdemona’s fealty false to light.
With this small sapling’s fruits I’ve sewn seeds of dismay
within the moor lord’s bridebed of contentedness,
with lies of Michael’s boasting in his bed to lay
brought forth foul’d proofs of kerchief’d fruits she’d feign possess.
This handkerchief was gifted as a token true
to prove his smoothly spoken love. I’ll use its lure
to show the Moor that something sordid’s broken through –
her lack when Cassio has’t, his ‘spicions will ensure.
A simple stitch of strawberry will here provide
the subtle, shifting fruits of my intentions snide.

IV.1.5
The wretched Moor’s rigidity enhances my
malfeasance while perniciously my plans makes space
for subterfuge malicious. Michael chances by –
Othello hid – now shows unknown his lady’s lace.
With harden’d heart enflam’d to hatch the murder of
the fair Venetian dame and vapid Florentine,
Othello’s jealous hate springs nat’rally from her more purer love
to burst its virgin bounds, surfeit a sordid scene.
Since Signior Lodovico’s fresh commission sets
the Moor apiece, deputes young Cassio in’s place
as Gov’ner o’er the Cypriot state, the Moor abets
barbarity: with breakneck speed collects life’s debts.
My meddling, most malicious, makes for murd’rous sport
by mixing quick calamities with false report.

IV.2.5 - V.0.5
The temper of the Moor revealed in full before
the form of Signior Lodovico leaves to be
desir’d but little: else admir’d had been his pure
and noble countenance, now count on’s sense t’unseat.
What says my wife Emilia to quick unfold
the fine seams of my fowled fleece? Though she’s pluck’d out
the plot without protagonist, still can this hold
much hazard – seems by semblance make of me quick doubt.
Quick now, t’accomplish Cassio’s conclusive end,
no surfeit of contrivance need I to convince
young Roderigo, sans remorse, to roughly send
the Florentine to’s fate, maintain my innocence.
With circumspection cautious must I now proceed
dispassionately, else self-sovereignty I’ll cede.

V.1.5 - V.2.5
It all revolv’d on Roderigo’s faculty
in bringing Michael Cassio to’s bitter end:
I, seconding, expected I’d unshackled be
by bearing down ‘pon whosoever’s life sustain’d.
But wretched, rash, and hateful Roderigo, how
your failure here to follow full in force unveils
the worst of my most well-laid schemes. Go now
I to my fate more foul than moor’s or mademoiselle’s.
Still lie both stiff on sanguine sheets made murderous
by my fell words, no further trust to place in my
mendaciousness. Emilia, spiting my duress,
sings truths unseen, and for it’s slain by none but I.
And Cassio, resplendent, now in Cyprus reigns
whilst honest Iago festers still in Cyprus’s chains.