prompt:
Chapter: SCENE III.
Another room in the castle.

Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, and Attendants.

  LODOVICO. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.
  OTHELLO. O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk.
  LODOVICO. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.
  DESDEMONA. Your honor is most welcome.
  OTHELLO.                               Will you walk, sir?
    O--Desdemona--
  DESDEMONA. My lord?
  OTHELLO. Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned
    forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there; look it be done.
  DESDEMONA. I will, my lord.
                            Exeunt Othello, Lodovico, and
Attendants.
  EMILIA. How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did.
  DESDEMONA. He says he will return incontinent.
    He hath commanded me to go to bed,
    And bade me to dismiss you.
  EMILIA.                       Dismiss me?
  DESDEMONA. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia,
    Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
    We must not now displease him.
  EMILIA. I would you had never seen him!
  DESDEMONA. So would not I. My love doth so approve him,
    That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns--
    Prithee, unpin me--have grace and favor in them.
  EMILIA. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.
  DESDEMONA. All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
    If I do die before thee, prithee shroud me
    In one of those same sheets.
  EMILIA.                        Come, come, you talk.
  DESDEMONA. My mother had a maid call'd Barbary;
    She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
    And did forsake her. She had a song of "willow";
    An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
    And she died singing it. That song tonight
    Will not go from my mind; I have much to do
    But to go hang my head all at one side
    And sing it like poor Barbary. Prithee, dispatch.
  EMILIA. Shall I go fetch your nightgown?
  DESDEMONA.                               No, unpin me here.
    This Lodovico is a proper man.
  EMILIA. A very handsome man.
  DESDEMONA. He speaks well.
  EMILIA. I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to
    Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.
  DESDEMONA. [Sings.]

        "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 murmur'd her moans,
          Sing willow, willow, willow;
        Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones--"

    Lay by these--

    [Sings.]   "Sing willow, willow, willow--"

    Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon--
    [Sings.]   "Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
               Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve--"

    Nay, that's not next. Hark, who is't that knocks?
  EMILIA. It's the wind.
  DESDEMONA. [Sings.]

        "I call'd my love false love; but what said he then?
          Sing willow, willow, willow.
        If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men--"

    So get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch;
    Doth that bode weeping?
  EMILIA.                   'Tis neither here nor there.
  DESDEMONA. I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!
    Dost thou in conscience think--tell me, Emilia--
    That there be women do abuse their husbands
    In such gross kind?
  EMILIA.               There be some such, no question.
  DESDEMONA. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
  EMILIA. Why, would not you?
  DESDEMONA.                  No, by this heavenly light!
  EMILIA. Nor I neither by this heavenly light; I might do't as
well
    i' the dark.
  DESDEMONA. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
  EMILIA. The world's a huge thing; it is a great price
    For a small vice.
  DESDEMONA.          In troth, I think thou wouldst not.
  EMILIA. In troth, I think I should, and undo't when I had done.
    Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for
    measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor
any
    petty exhibition; but, for the whole world--why, who would
not
    make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should
    venture purgatory for't.
  DESDEMONA. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
    For the whole world.
  EMILIA. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' the world; and having
the
    world for your labor, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you
    might quickly make it right.
  DESDEMONA. I do not think there is any such woman.
  EMILIA. Yes, a dozen, and as many to the vantage as would store
the
      world they played for.
    But I do think it is their husbands' faults
    If wives do fall; say that they slack their duties
    And pour our treasures into foreign laps,
    Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
    Throwing restraint upon us, or say they strike us,
    Or scant our former having in despite,
    Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
    Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
    Their wives have sense like them; they see and smell
    And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
    As husbands have. What is it that they do
    When they change us for others? Is it sport?
    I think it is. And doth affection breed it?
    I think it doth. Is't frailty that thus errs?
    It is so too. And have not we affections,
    Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?
    Then let them use us well; else let them know,
    The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.
  DESDEMONA. Good night, good night. Heaven me such uses send,
    Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!
Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: After dinner, Othello suggests a walk with Lodovico and orders Desdemona to get ready for bed. He promises to meet her there soon, and demands that she send Emilia away. The men exit, leaving the women to chat and get ready for bed. Emilia notes that Othello looked to be in better spirits, but she's shocked that he told Desdemona to get rid of her. Desdemona just shrugs it off--she can't risk upsetting Othello now. Emilia says she wishes Desdemona had never seen the man. But Desdemona responds that she loves Othello, so much that she would rather be with him, even when he's being totally strange, than live without him. Desdemona is in a strange mood that foreshadows her coming death. When Emilia says, "Hey, I put those sheets on the bed for you," Desdemona replies with, "If I die before you do, will you wrap my dead body in them?" Emilia's a little creeped out by the death talk, but Desdemona's got a one track mind tonight. She follows that comment up with a story of her mom's maid, Barbary. Apparently Barbary fell in love with a man who left her, and was fond of singing a song that reminded her of her sorrow. She died singing it. Desdemona abruptly changes the subject to Lodovico and what a nice guy he is. He did defend her against Othello, so perhaps she's thinking about what it would be like to have a husband who didn't seem to hate her. This line of thought is short lived, though, as Desdemona launches into the song her mom's maid died singing. The song is about a willow, which is bad news, as willows are symbolic of disappointed love. Desdemona stops singing when she thinks she hears a knock at the door, but Emilia tells her it's just the wind. She finishes singing the song, and then says her eyes itch. She asks Emilia if that means she's going to cry soon, but Emilia says it doesn't mean anything. She and Emilia then converse about whether women are ever as awful to their men as men are to their women. Emilia is certain this is the case, especially when it comes to cheating. Desdemona asks whether Emilia would ever cheat on Iago, and Emilia, much older and more cynical, tells her that plenty of women cheat. She says you could justify cheating in lots of different ways. Desdemona declares again that she can't believe there's a single woman in the world who would cheat on her husband. This leads Emilia into a bit of a rant. Emilia says there are plenty of women who cheat and argues that when women do cheat, it's their husbands's fault. They've either shirked their duties or spent too much time lavishing attention on others. Or maybe they've been hitting their wives. Women are full of grace, but they can be pushed too far. And besides, women have the same sexual needs as men. Since men change their women sportingly, women should have the same option. Desdemona's only response is to say she hopes she can use others' bad behavior as a guide of what not to do, instead of an excuse to behave badly.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT V. SCENE I.
Cyprus. A street.

Enter Iago and Roderigo:

  IAGO. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come.
    Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home.
    Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow.
    It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
    And fix most firm thy resolution.
  RODERIGO. Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't.
  IAGO. Here, at thy hand, be bold, and take thy stand.
  Retires.
  RODERIGO. I have no great devotion to the deed;
    And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons.
    'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword; he dies.
  IAGO. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense,
    And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
    Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
    Every way makes my gain. Live Roderigo,
    He calls me to a restitution large
    Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him,
    As gifts to Desdemona;
    It must not be. If Cassio do remain,
    He hath a daily beauty in his life
    That makes me ugly; and besides, the Moor
    May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril.
    No, he must die. Be't so. I hear him coming.

                            Enter Cassio.

  RODERIGO. I know his gait; 'tis he. Villain, thou diest!
                                              Makes a pass at
Cassio.
  CASSIO. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
    But that my coat is better than thou know'st;
    I will make proof of thine.           Draws, and wounds
Roderigo.
  RODERIGO.                     O, I am slain!
            Iago from behind wounds Cassio in the leg, and exit.
  CASSIO. I am maim'd forever. Help, ho! Murther! Murther!
    Falls.

                            Enter Othello.

  OTHELLO. The voice of Cassio; Iago keeps his word.
  RODERIGO. O, villain that I am!
  OTHELLO.                        It is even so.
  CASSIO. O, help, ho! Light! A surgeon!
  OTHELLO. 'Tis he. O brave Iago, honest and just,
    That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong!
    Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,
    And your unblest fate hies. Strumpet, I come!
    Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;
    Thy bed lust-stain'd shall with lust's blood be spotted.
     Exit.

                     Enter Lodovico and Gratiano.

  CASSIO. What, ho! No watch? No passage? Murther! Murther!
  GRATIANO. 'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.
  CASSIO. O, help!
  LODOVICO. Hark!
  RODERIGO. O wretched villain!
  LODOVICO. Two or three groan; it is a heavy night.
    These may be counterfeits; let's think't unsafe
    To come in to the cry without more help.
  RODERIGO. Nobody come? Then shall I bleed to death.
  LODOVICO. Hark!

                     Re-enter Iago, with a light.

  GRATIANO. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and
weapons.
  IAGO. Who's there? Whose noise is this that cries on murther?
  LODOVICO. We do not know.
  IAGO.                     Did not you hear a cry?
  CASSIO. Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me!
  IAGO.                                       What's the matter?
  GRATIANO. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.
  LODOVICO. The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.
  IAGO. What are you here that cry so grievously?
  CASSIO. Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
    Give me some help.
  IAGO. O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this?
  CASSIO. I think that one of them is hereabout,
    And cannot make away.
  IAGO.                   O treacherous villains!
    [To Lodovico and Gratiano.] What are you there?
    Come in and give some help.
  RODERIGO. O, help me here!
  CASSIO. That's one of them.
  IAGO.                       O murtherous slave! O villain!
                                                      Stabs
Roderigo.
  RODERIGO. O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!
  IAGO. Kill men i' the dark! Where be these bloody thieves?
    How silent is this town! Ho! Murther! Murther!
    What may you be? Are you of good or evil?
  LODOVICO. As you shall prove us, praise us.
  IAGO. Signior Lodovico?
  LODOVICO. He, sir.
  IAGO. I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains.
  GRATIANO. Cassio?
  IAGO. How is't, brother?
  CASSIO. My leg is cut in two.
  IAGO.                         Marry, heaven forbid!
    Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.

                            Enter Bianca.

  BIANCA. What is the matter, ho? Who is't that cried?
  IAGO. Who is't that cried?
  BIANCA. O my dear Cassio, my sweet Cassio! O Cassio, Cassio,
     Cassio!
  IAGO. O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
    Who they should be that have thus mangled you?
  CASSIO. No.
  GRATIANO. I am sorry to find you thus; I have been to seek you.
  IAGO. Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair,
    To bear him easily hence!
  BIANCA. Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
  IAGO. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
    To be a party in this injury.
    Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
    Lend me a light. Know we this face or no?
    Alas, my friend and my dear countryman
    Roderigo? No--yes, sure. O heaven! Roderigo.
  GRATIANO. What, of Venice?
  IAGO. Even he, sir. Did you know him?
  GRATIANO.                             Know him! ay.
  IAGO. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon;
    These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
    That so neglected you.
  GRATIANO.                I am glad to see you.
  IAGO. How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair!
  GRATIANO. Roderigo!
  IAGO. He, he, 'tis he. [A chair brought in.] O, that's well
said:
      the chair.
    Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
    I'll fetch the general's surgeon. [To Bianca.] For you,
mistress,
    Save you your labor. He that lies slain here, Cassio,
    Was my dear friend; what malice was between you?
  CASSIO. None in the world; nor do I know the man.
  IAGO. [To Bianca.] What, look you pale? O, bear him out o' the
air.
                                   Cassio and Roderigo are borne
off.
    Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
    Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?
    Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.
    Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her.
    Do you see, gentlemen? Nay, guiltiness will speak,
    Though tongues were out of use.

                            Enter Emilia.

  EMILIA. 'Las, what's the matter? What's the matter, husband?
  IAGO. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
    By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scaped;
    He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
  EMILIA. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!
  IAGO. This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,
    Go know of Cassio where he supp'd tonight.
    What, do you shake at that?
  BIANCA. He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.
  IAGO. O, did he so? I charge you, go with me.
  EMILIA. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!
  BIANCA. I am no strumpet, but of life as honest
    As you that thus abuse me.
  EMILIA.                      As I! foh! fie upon thee!
  IAGO. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd.
    Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.
    Emilia, run you to the citadel,
    And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd!
    Will you go on? [Aside.] This is the night
    That either makes me or fordoes me quite.
Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Iago and Roderigo wait in a darkened street for Cassio to come. Iago has given Roderigo a sword. He tries to slip off in the darkness, but Roderigo asks him to stay near, in case he needs any help killing Cassio. Despite the plea, Iago gets away, and Roderigo is left mostly alone and noting to himself that he doesn't really have any ill will toward Cassio. Still, Iago's made a convincing enough argument that the man must die. Iago explains his devious plot in the cover of the shadows: If Roderigo lives, he'll demand all the jewels and gifts he gave to Iago, intended for Desdemona. If Cassio lives, his goodness will only remind everyone that, by contrast, Iago is really evil. Also, Cassio is the only one who has the power to clear up what's really going on to Othello. In short, Iago wants them both dead. Cassio then enters the street and Roderigo, hidden by darkness, tries to stab him. Cassio avoids the thrust, and wounds him back in self-defense. But then Iago arrives unseen and stabs Cassio in the leg. Cassio cries out for help from whatever dark alley they all happen to be in. Othello, apparently nearby in his own dark alley, hears the pitiful pleas. Thinking Iago has done away, as he promised, with Cassio, Othello is now full of the piss and vinegar required to go and murder his innocent, faithful beloved. But first, he makes a rousing speech about lust and blood and all that grave stuff. Then he exits, presumably to kill Desdemona. Lodovico and Gratiano, two Venetian gentlemen, come in when they hear Cassio screaming in the dark. Afraid this may be a trap, they hesitate, leaving Iago some time to enter with a light, the picture of confused innocence. Iago makes a big show of recognizing Cassio as a lieutenant and then vows to seek around in the dark for Cassio's assailant. Of course, Iago discovers Roderigo, and pretends not to know who he is. Then he conveniently and mortally stabs him. Iago, Lodovico, and Gratiano finally identify each other in the dark, and Iago informs the other two that Cassio has been wounded. They all head toward Cassio, and Iago takes off his shirt to bind Cassio's gashed leg. Bianca enters, in hysterics, to find her Cassio wounded. Iago tries to blame the whole messy situation on the poor strumpet, and then pretends to discover the man no one saw him stab. Iago feigns surprise at the fact that Cassio's assailant was none other than Roderigo, who he declares to be his great friend. As they all tend to the wounded Cassio, Iago asks Cassio if there was some beef with Roderigo. Cassio says he doesn't even know the guy, and Iago quickly has the two Venetian gentlemen turn their eyes towards Bianca, who Iago suggests is somehow involved in this whole sordid matter. Emilia comes in, and Iago sums up a version of the story through his lying teeth: Roderigo, who is now dead, joined with some other fellows, who have now escaped, to assault Cassio, who is now wounded. Iago, who is now telling the story, is still lying, so everything's fairly status quo. Iago then instructs Emilia to inform Othello and Desdemona of all of these very surprising events. Left alone, Iago comments that this night will make him or break him. As it's already broken Roderigo, Cassio, Othello, and Desdemona, take a guess where the odds are stacked.


prompt:
Chapter: SCENE II.
A bedchamber in the castle. Desdemona in bed asleep; a light
burning.

Enter Othello.

  OTHELLO. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul.
    Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!
    It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood,
    Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow
    And smooth as monumental alabaster.
    Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
    Put out the light, and then put out the light.
    If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
    I can again thy former light restore,
    Should I repent me; but once put out thy light,
    Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
    I know not where is that Promethean heat
    That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose,
    I cannot give it vital growth again,
    It must needs wither; I'll smell it on the tree.      Kisses
her.
    O, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
    Justice to break her sword! One more, one more;
    Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
    And love thee after. One more, and this the last;
    So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
    But they are cruel tears; this sorrow's heavenly,
    It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.
  DESDEMONA. Who's there? Othello?
  OTHELLO.                         Ay, Desdemona.
  DESDEMONA. Will you come to bed, my lord?
  OTHELLO. Have you pray'd tonight, Desdemona?
  DESDEMONA. Ay, my lord.
  OTHELLO. If you bethink yourself of any crime
    Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
    Solicit for it straight.
  DESDEMONA. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that?
  OTHELLO. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.
    I would not kill thy unprepared spirit.
    No, heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.
  DESDEMONA. Talk you of killing?
  OTHELLO. Ay, I do.
  DESDEMONA. Then heaven have mercy on me!
  OTHELLO. Amen, with all my heart!
  DESDEMONA. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
  OTHELLO. Hum!
  DESDEMONA. And yet I fear you, for you are fatal then
    When your eyes roll so. Why I should fear I know not,
    Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.
  OTHELLO. Think on thy sins.
  DESDEMONA.                  They are loves I bear to you.
  OTHELLO. Ay, and for that thou diest.
  DESDEMONA. That death's unnatural that kills for loving.
    Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
    Some bloody passion shakes your very frame.
    These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,
    They do not point on me.
  OTHELLO.                   Peace, and be still!
  DESDEMONA. I will so. What's the matter?
  OTHELLO. That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee
    Thou gavest to Cassio.
  DESDEMONA.               No, by my life and soul!
    Send for the man, and ask him.
  OTHELLO.                         Sweet soul, take heed,
    Take heed of perjury; thou are on thy deathbed.
  DESDEMONA. Ay, but not yet to die.
  OTHELLO.                           Yes, presently:
    Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin,
    For to deny each article with oath
    Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
    That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
  DESDEMONA. Then Lord have mercy on me!
  OTHELLO.                               I say, amen.
  DESDEMONA. And have you mercy too! I never did
    Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio
    But with such general warranty of heaven
    As I might love. I never gave him token.
  OTHELLO. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in 's hand.
    O perjured woman! Thou dost stone my heart,
    And makest me call what I intend to do
    A murther, which I thought a sacrifice.
    I saw the handkerchief.
  DESDEMONA.                He found it then;
    I never gave it him. Send for him hither;
    Let him confess a truth.
  OTHELLO.                   He hath confess'd.
  DESDEMONA. What, my lord?
  OTHELLO. That he hath used thee.
  DESDEMONA.                       How? unlawfully?
  OTHELLO. Ay.
  DESDEMONA. He will not say so.
  OTHELLO.                       No, his mouth is stopp'd;
    Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.
  DESDEMONA. O, my fear interprets! What, is he dead?
  OTHELLO. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
    Had stomach for them all.
  DESDEMONA. Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone!
  OTHELLO. Out, strumpet! Weep'st thou for him to my face?
  DESDEMONA. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!
  OTHELLO. Down, strumpet!
  DESDEMONA. Kill me tomorrow; let me live tonight!
  OTHELLO. Nay, if you strive--
  DESDEMONA. But half an hour!
  OTHELLO.                     Being done, there is no pause.
  DESDEMONA. But while I say one prayer!
  OTHELLO.                        It is too late.     He stifles
her.
  EMILIA. [Within.] My lord, my lord! What, ho! my lord, my lord!
  OTHELLO. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
    I that am cruel am yet merciful;
    I would not have thee linger in thy pain.
    So, so.
  EMILIA. [Within.] What, ho! my lord, my lord!
  OTHELLO.                                      Who's there?
  EMILIA. [Within.] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with
you!
  OTHELLO. Yes, 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead.
    'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.
    The noise was here. Ha! no more moving?
    Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good?
    I think she stirs again. No. What's best to do?
    If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife.
    My wife! My wife! What wife? I have no wife.
    O, insupportable! O heavy hour!
    Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
    Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe
    Should yawn at alteration.
  EMILIA. [Within.] I do beseech you
    That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!
  OTHELLO. I had forgot thee. O, come in, Emilia.
    Soft, by and by. Let me the curtains draw.
    Where art thou?                                 Unlocks the
door.

                            Enter Emilia.

                    What's the matter with thee now?
  EMILIA. O, my good lord, yonder's foul murthers done!
  OTHELLO. What, now?
  EMILIA. But now, my lord.
  OTHELLO. It is the very error of the moon;
    She comes more nearer earth than she was wont
    And makes men mad.
  EMILIA. Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian
    Call'd Roderigo.
  OTHELLO.           Roderigo kill'd?
    And Cassio kill'd?
  EMILIA.              No, Cassio is not kill'd.
  OTHELLO. Not Cassio kill'd! Then murther's out of tune,
    And sweet revenge grows harsh.
  DESDEMONA. O, falsely, falsely murther'd!
  EMILIA.                                   Alas, what cry is
that?
  OTHELLO. That? what?
  EMILIA. Out, and alas! That was my lady's voice.
    Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again!
    Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!
  DESDEMONA. A guiltless death I die.
  EMILIA. O, who hath done this deed?
  DESDEMONA. Nobody; I myself. Farewell;
    Commend me to my kind lord. O, farewell!
Dies.
  OTHELLO. Why, how should she be murther'd?
  EMILIA.                                    Alas, who knows?
  OTHELLO. You heard her say herself, it was not I.
  EMILIA. She said so; I must needs report the truth.
  OTHELLO. She's like a liar gone to burning hell;
    'Twas I that kill'd her.
  EMILIA.                    O, the more angel she,
    And you the blacker devil!
  OTHELLO. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.
  EMILIA. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.
  OTHELLO. She was false as water.
  EMILIA.                          Thou art rash as fire, to say
    That she was false. O, she was heavenly true!
  OTHELLO. Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else.
    O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
    But that I did proceed upon just grounds
    To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
  EMILIA. My husband?
  OTHELLO. Thy husband.
  EMILIA. That she was false to wedlock?
  OTHELLO. Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,
    If heaven would make me such another world
    Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
    I'ld not have sold her for it.
  EMILIA.                          My husband?
  OTHELLO. Ay, 'twas he that told me first.
    An honest man he is, and hates the slime
    That sticks on filthy deeds.
  EMILIA.                        My husband?
  OTHELLO. What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband.
  EMILIA. O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love!
    My husband say that she was false!
  OTHELLO.                             He, woman;
    I say thy husband. Dost understand the word?
    My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.
  EMILIA. If he say so, may his pernicious soul
    Rot half a grain a day! He lies to the heart.
    She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
  OTHELLO. Ha!
  EMILIA. Do thy worst;
    This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
    Than thou wast worthy her.
  OTHELLO.                     Peace, you were best.
  EMILIA. Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
    As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt!
    As ignorant as dirt! Thou hast done a deed--
    I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known,
    Though I lost twenty lives. Help! help, ho! help!
    The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murther, murther!

              Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others.

  MONTANO. What is the matter? How now, general?
  EMILIA. O, are you come, Iago? You have done well,
    That men must lay their murthers on your neck.
  GRATIANO. What is the matter?
  EMILIA. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man.
    He says thou told'st him that his wife was false;
    I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain.
    Speak, for my heart is full.
  IAGO. I told him what I thought, and told no more
    Than what he found himself was apt and true.
  EMILIA. But did you ever tell him she was false?
  IAGO. I did.
  EMILIA. You told a lie, an odious, damned lie;
    Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie!
    She false with Cassio? Did you say with Cassio?
  IAGO. With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.
  EMILIA. I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak.
    My mistress here lies murther'd in her bed--
  ALL. O heavens forfend!
  EMILIA. And your reports have set the murther on.
  OTHELLO. Nay, stare not, masters; it is true indeed.
  GRATIANO. 'Tis a strange truth.
  MONTANO. O monstrous act!
  EMILIA.                   Villainy, villainy, villainy!
    I think upon't, I think, I smell't, O villainy!
    I thought so then. I'll kill myself for grief.
    O villainy, villainy!
  IAGO. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.
  EMILIA. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak;
    'Tis proper I obey him, but not now.
    Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.
  OTHELLO. O! O! O!                                 Falls on the
bed.
  EMILIA.           Nay, lay thee down and roar;
    For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
    That e'er did lift up eye.
  OTHELLO.            [Rises.] O, she was foul!
    I scarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece,
    Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopp'd.
    I know this act shows horrible and grim.
  GRATIANO. Poor Desdemon! I am glad thy father's dead.
    Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
    Shore his old thread in twain; did he live now,
    This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
    Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
    And fall to reprobation.
  OTHELLO. 'Tis pitiful, but yet Iago knows
    That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
    A thousand times committed. Cassio confess'd it,
    And she did gratify his amorous works
    With that recognizance and pledge of love
    Which I first gave her. I saw it in his hand,
    It was a handkerchief, an antique token
    My father gave my mother.
  EMILIA. O heaven! O heavenly powers!
  IAGO. 'Zounds! Hold your peace.
  EMILIA.                         'Twill out, 'twill. I peace?
    No, I will speak as liberal as the north;
    Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,
    All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.
  IAGO. Be wise, and get you home.
  EMILIA.                          I will not.
                                          Iago offers to stab
Emilia.
  GRATIANO.                                    Fie!
    Your sword upon a woman?
  EMILIA. O thou dull Moor! That handkerchief thou speak'st of
    I found by fortune and did give my husband,
    For often with a solemn earnestness,
    More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle,
    He begg'd of me to steal it.
  IAGO.                          Villainous whore!
  EMILIA. She give it Cassio? No, alas, I found it,
    And I did give't my husband.
  IAGO.                          Filth, thou liest!
  EMILIA. By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen.
    O murtherous coxcomb! What should such a fool
    Do with so good a wife?
  OTHELLO.                  Are there not stones in heaven
    But what serve for thunder? Precious villain!
                                         He runs at Iago, but
Montano
                                      disarms him. Iago stabs
Emilia.
  GRATIANO. The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife.
  EMILIA. Ay, ay! O, lay me by my mistress' side.          Exit
Iago.
  GRATIANO. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.
  MONTANO. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon,
    Which I have here recover'd from the Moor.
    Come, guard the door without; let him not pass,
    But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain,
    For 'tis a damned slave.       Exeunt all but Othello and
Emilia.
  OTHELLO.                   I am not valiant neither,
    But every puny whipster gets my sword.
    But why should honor outlive honesty?
    Let it go all.
  EMILIA.          What did thy song bode, lady?
    Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan,
    And die in music. [Sings.] "Willow, willow, willow."
    Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;
    So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
    So speaking as I think, I die, I die.
Dies.
  OTHELLO. I have another weapon in this chamber;
    It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper--
    O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.
  GRATIANO. [Within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear.
    Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.
  OTHELLO. Look in upon me then, and speak with me,
    Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.

                          Re-enter Gratiano.

  GRATIANO. What is the matter?
  OTHELLO.                      Behold, I have a weapon;
    A better never did itself sustain
    Upon a soldier's thigh. I have seen the day
    That with this little arm and this good sword
    I have made my way through more impediments
    Than twenty times your stop. But, O vain boast!
    Who can control his fate? 'Tis not so now.
    Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
    Here is my journey's end, here is my butt
    And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
    Do you go back dismay'd? 'Tis a lost fear.
    Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
    And he retires. Where should Othello go?
    Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
    Pale as thy smock! When we shall meet at compt,
    This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
    And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl?
    Even like thy chastity. O cursed, cursed slave!
    Whip me, ye devils,
    From the possession of this heavenly sight!
    Blow me about in winds! Roast me in sulphur!
    Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
    O Desdemon! dead, Desdemon! dead!
    O! O! O!

         Enter Lodovico, Montano, Cassio carried in a chair,
                  and Officers with Iago, prisoner.

  LODOVICO. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?
  OTHELLO. That's he that was Othello. Here I am.
  LODOVICO. Where is that viper? Bring the villain forth.
  OTHELLO. I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable.
    If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.      Wounds
Iago.
  LODOVICO. Wrench his sword from him.
  IAGO.                                I bleed, sir, but not
kill'd.
  OTHELLO. I am not sorry neither. I'ld have thee live,
    For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.
  LODOVICO. O thou Othello, that wert once so good,
    Fall'n in the practice of a damned slave,
    What shall be said to thee?
  OTHELLO.                      Why, anything;
    An honorable murtherer, if you will,
    For nought did I in hate, but all in honor.
  LODOVICO. This wretch hath part confess'd his villainy.
    Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?
  OTHELLO. Ay.
  CASSIO. Dear general, I never gave you cause.
  OTHELLO. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
    Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil
    Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?
  IAGO. Demand me nothing; what you know, you know.
    From this time forth I never will speak word.
  LODOVICO. What, not to pray?
  GRATIANO.                    Torments will ope your lips.
  OTHELLO. Well, thou dost best.
  LODOVICO. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
    Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter
    Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo,
    And here another. The one of them imports
    The death of Cassio to be undertook
    By Roderigo.
  OTHELLO. O villain!
  CASSIO.             Most heathenish and most gross!
  LODOVICO. Now here's another discontented paper,
    Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
    Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
    But that, belike, Iago in the interim
    Came in and satisfied him.
  OTHELLO.                     O the pernicious caitiff!
    How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
    That was my wife's?
  CASSIO.               I found it in my chamber;
    And he himself confess'd but even now
    That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose
    Which wrought to his desire.
  OTHELLO.                       O fool! fool! fool!
  CASSIO. There is besides in Roderigo's letter,
    How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
    Brave me upon the watch, whereon it came
    That I was cast. And even but now he spake
    After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him,
    Iago set him on.
  LODOVICO. You must forsake this room, and go with us.
    Your power and your command is taken off,
    And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
    If there be any cunning cruelty
    That can torment him much and hold him long,
    It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
    Till that the nature of your fault be known
    To the Venetian state. Come, bring away.
  OTHELLO. Soft you; a word or two before you go.
    I have done the state some service, and they know't.
    No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
    When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
    Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
    Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak
    Of one that loved not wisely but too well;
    Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
    Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
    Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
    Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes,
    Albeit unused to the melting mood,
    Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
    Their medicinal gum. Set you down this;
    And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
    Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
    Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
    I took by the throat the circumcised dog
    And smote him, thus.                               Stabs
himself.
  LODOVICO. O bloody period!
  GRATIANO.                  All that's spoke is marr'd.
  OTHELLO. I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee. No way but this,
    Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.
                                          Falls on the bed, and
dies.
  CASSIO. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;
    For he was great of heart.
  LODOVICO.         [To Iago.] O Spartan dog,
    More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
    Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
    This is thy work. The object poisons sight;
    Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
    And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
    For they succeed on you. To you, Lord Governor,
    Remains the censure of this hellish villain,
    The time, the place, the torture. O, enforce it!
    Myself will straight aboard, and to the state
    This heavy act with heavy heart relate.
Exeunt.

THE END

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Othello is a wreck. He's watching Desdemona sleep, and telling himself over and over again that he has to go through with this. He promises he won't mar Desdemona's beautiful skin by cutting her up or anything--she'll be pretty in death. Next he notes the single candle he's brought into the bedroom. He plans to put out his candle, and then put out her candle . He muses that if he puts out the literal candle, he can easily light it again, but once he kills Desdemona, there is no way of getting her back. During his moment, Othello is almost overwhelmed by his love for Desdemona as he bends to kiss her. He says her beauty is almost enough to stop him from being an agent of justice. Notice how we said "almost" twice? Well, so did Othello, because feelings aside, he promises to kill her and love her after. He weeps over her, lamenting that he must kill what he loves most, alluding to the Biblical passage Hebrews 12:6: "For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth." All this weeping and kissing and murderous plotting wakes Desdemona. Sleepily, she asks Othello if he's coming to bed. He asks her if she has prayed. "I would not kill thy soul," he says . Desdemona freaks out about the killing bit, and Othello doesn't deny that, yes, he intends to kill her. He again asks her to think on her sins, so she can be absolved before she dies . Othello then brings up the handkerchief . He accuses Desdemona of giving it to Cassio, and she tries to be very calm in convincing Othello that he has made a mistake. She denies ever having loved Cassio. Othello says that she's lying and that Cassio is already dead. Desdemona mourns Cassio, whom she says has been betrayed. Still, she won't stop fighting for her life. Rather than come out with the story of having simply lost the handkerchief and try to clear up the whole matter, she begs to be banished rather than killed--to be killed tomorrow--to be given just half an hour more to live. But Othello is relentless, and smothers her with a pillow. Emilia knocks at the door and calls out for Othello. Desdemona is still not quite dead, so Othello smothers her a little more. He gets lost in his thoughts about how he has no wife. Finally inside, Emilia reports that Roderigo has been killed by Cassio, and that Cassio is wounded, but not dead. Othello is furious to realize that Cassio is still alive. But so is Desdemona--for at least three more seconds. "O falsely, falsely murdered!" she says weakly . Desdemona declares she is guiltless, but when Emilia asks her who murdered her, she refuses to name Othello. "Nobody. I myself," Desdemona says. Desdemona finally dies asking Emilia to give Othello her love . Othello admits he killed Desdemona and tells Emilia she deserved it, and that honest Iago, Emilia's own husband, can tell her all about it. "My husband?" Emilia keeps repeating this, as the truth slowly dawns on her that she married a jerk. Othello tries to get Emilia to calm down, mostly through his threatening looks, but she says she doesn't care about any harm he can do her. She continues to shout about the murder. Soldiers and citizens of Cyprus crowd into the room, along with Iago. Emilia confronts her husband and asks if he told Othello that Desdemona was cheating on him. Iago admits that he suggested this, but then claims that Othello's own suspicion filled in all the blanks. Emilia continues to lament Desdemona, and Othello continues to insist that Desdemona was false to him. Gratiano then announces that it's a good thing Desdemona's dad, Brabantio, died of heartbreak over her wedding to Othello, because he really wouldn't have survived this traumatic event. Othello continues to lay blame on Desdemona's foulness, and Iago keeps trying to silence the lamenting Emilia. Finally, the whole story clears up when Othello says that he saw Desdemona's handkerchief in Cassio's hand, and Emilia tells him that she herself stole the handkerchief and gave it to Iago. With this small fact, Iago's whole story begins to unravel. Othello, furious, tries to stab Iago, but Iago avoids him, and instead stabs his wife to death , and runs out. Montano bids someone to follow the villain, but only Othello and the slow, dramatically dying Emilia are left. Emilia wonders aloud about the meaning of Desdemona's final song, and she herself dies singing about willows, charging "the Moor" with some serious cruelty. Emilia dies next to Desdemona and tells Othello with her last breath that his wife was pure and faithful to him. Othello remembers that he has another weapon in his bedroom. He finds a Spanish sword and calls to Gratiano to say he's coming out. Gratiano says no way. Othello will pay dearly if he tries, especially since he's unarmed. "Oh yeah?" says Othello. "Open the door and say that to my face." Gratiano enters the bedroom and Othello shows him his weapon. Othello says he could easily take Gratiano down if he wanted to, but that's not his fate. He tells Gratiano there's no reason for him to be fearful even though Othello is armed, because Othello has reached the end of his journey, a.k.a., his life. He looks at Desdemona lying on the bed and says that when he dies, he'll go to hell for what he's done to her. Lodovico, the wounded Cassio, and Montano enter with a recently captured Iago. Othello pronounces Iago to be a devil , and wounds him. Iago lets us know that he's not dead yet. Othello responds that he wouldn't wish such a peaceful fate as death on Iago . As Lodovico points out that grieving doesn't get you out of a murder charge, Othello says he can be called a murderer, but it's important to note that he did everything out of honor, not hate. He apologizes to Cassio for his bad behavior and then demands to know why Iago chose to torment him and ruin his life. "Demand me nothing. What you know, you know," Iago says. "From this time forth, I will never speak word" . Lodovico then brings out the papers that will clear the entire mess up. Roderigo, conveniently, had a bunch of mixed letters on his person that explain, in detail, Iago's complicity in all of these plots. Othello, finally faced with Cassio, learns that Desdemona was innocent and that everything that happened was part of Iago's scheme. And Roderigo lived long enough to reveal that his murderer was actually...Iago. Lodovico orders that Othello be brought back to Venice for his punishment, and announces Cassio is to replace him. Othello wishes to say a word before he goes. He asks that he not be spoken of untruthfully, or in malice, as this tragedy is committed to history. Othello declares himself "one who loved not wisely, but too well," and then sums up the bulk of the play--how he didn't get jealous quickly, but once tricked he was driven to madness. In his final note, he pulls out a hidden weapon and stabs himself, the same way he once stabbed a Turk he saw beating up a Venetian. He has done an evil thing, but by killing himself, he has conquered the villain and therefore become the hero of his own story. Othello kisses Desdemona's dead lips and then dies himself, a murderer, martyr, and lover to the end. Lodovico tells Iago to look at his work: three innocent people lying next to each other, all destroyed by his scheming. Still, Iago keeps his promise and stays silent. Gratiano is to inherit all of Othello's worldly goods, and Montano is charged with punishing the wicked Iago. Sadly, Lodovico decides that all he can do is go back to Venice to share this tragic tale.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT I. SCENE I.
Venice. A street.

Enter Roderigo and Iago.

  RODERIGO. Tush, never tell me! I take it much unkindly
    That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse
    As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.
  IAGO. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me.
    If ever I did dream of such a matter,
    Abhor me.
  RODERIGO. Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate.
  IAGO. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,
    In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
    Off--capp'd to him; and, by the faith of man,
    I know my price, I am worth no worse a place.
    But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
    Evades them, with a bumbast circumstance
    Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war,
    And, in conclusion,
    Nonsuits my mediators; for, "Certes," says he,
    "I have already chose my officer."
    And what was he?
    Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
    One Michael Cassio, a Florentine
    (A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife)
    That never set a squadron in the field,
    Nor the division of a battle knows
    More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
    Wherein the toged consuls can propose
    As masterly as he. Mere prattle without practice
    Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election;
    And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
    At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds
    Christian and heathen, must be belee'd and calm'd
    By debitor and creditor. This counter--caster,
    He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
    And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorship's ancient.
  RODERIGO. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.
  IAGO. Why, there's no remedy. 'Tis the curse of service,
    Preferment goes by letter and affection,
    And not by old gradation, where each second
    Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself
    Whether I in any just term am affined
    To love the Moor.
  RODERIGO.           I would not follow him then.
  IAGO. O, sir, content you.
    I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
    We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
    Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
    Many a duteous and knee--crooking knave,
    That doting on his own obsequious bondage
    Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
    For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd.
    Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
    Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
    Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,
    And throwing but shows of service on their lords
    Do well thrive by them; and when they have lined their coats
    Do themselves homage. These fellows have some soul,
    And such a one do I profess myself.
    For, sir,
    It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
    Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago.
    In following him, I follow but myself;
    Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
    But seeming so, for my peculiar end.
    For when my outward action doth demonstrate
    The native act and figure of my heart
    In complement extern, 'tis not long after
    But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
    For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
  RODERIGO. What a full fortune does the thick--lips owe,
    If he can carry't thus!
  IAGO.                     Call up her father,
    Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight,
    Proclaim him in the streets, incense her kinsmen,
    And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
    Plague him with flies. Though that his joy be joy,
    Yet throw such changes of vexation on't
    As it may lose some color.
  RODERIGO. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.
  IAGO. Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell
    As when, by night and negligence, the fire
    Is spied in populous cities.
  RODERIGO. What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!
  IAGO. Awake! What, ho, Brabantio! Thieves! Thieves! Thieves!
    Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags!
    Thieves! Thieves!

                Brabantio appears above, at a window.

  BRABANTIO. What is the reason of this terrible summons?
    What is the matter there?
  RODERIGO. Signior, is all your family within?
  IAGO. Are your doors lock'd?
  BRABANTIO.                   Why? Wherefore ask you this?
  IAGO. 'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd! For shame, put on your gown;
    Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
    Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
    Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise!
    Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
    Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you.
    Arise, I say!
  BRABANTIO. What, have you lost your wits?
  RODERIGO. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?
  BRABANTIO. Not I. What are you?
  RODERIGO. My name is Roderigo.
  BRABANTIO.                     The worser welcome.
    I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors.
    In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
    My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,
    Being full of supper and distempering draughts,
    Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
    To start my quiet.
  RODERIGO. Sir, sir, sir--
  BRABANTIO.               But thou must needs be sure
    My spirit and my place have in them power
    To make this bitter to thee.
  RODERIGO.                      Patience, good sir.
  BRABANTIO. What tell'st thou me of robbing? This is Venice;
    My house is not a grange.
  RODERIGO.                   Most grave Brabantio,
    In simple and pure soul I come to you.
  IAGO. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve
God,
    if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and
you
    think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with
a
    Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll
have
    coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans.
  BRABANTIO. What profane wretch art thou?
  IAGO. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and
the
    Moor are now making the beast with two backs.
  BRABANTIO. Thou are a villain.
  IAGO.                          You are--a senator.
  BRABANTIO. This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.
  RODERIGO. Sir, I will answer anything. But, I beseech you,
    If't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
    As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,
    At this odd--even and dull watch o' the night,
    Transported with no worse nor better guard
    But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
    To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor--
    If this be known to you, and your allowance,
    We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
    But if you know not this, my manners tell me
    We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
    That, from the sense of all civility,
    I thus would play and trifle with your reverence.
    Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,
    I say again, hath made a gross revolt,
    Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes
    In an extravagant and wheeling stranger
    Of here and everywhere. Straight satisfy yourself:
    If she be in her chamber or your house,
    Let loose on me the justice of the state
    For thus deluding you.
  BRABANTIO.               Strike on the tinder, ho!
    Give me a taper! Call up all my people!
    This accident is not unlike my dream;
    Belief of it oppresses me already.
    Light, I say, light!                                  Exit
above.
  IAGO.                  Farewell, for I must leave you.
    It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
    To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall--
    Against the Moor; for I do know, the state,
    However this may gall him with some check,
    Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd
    With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
    Which even now stands in act, that, for their souls,
    Another of his fathom they have none
    To lead their business; in which regard,
    Though I do hate him as I do hell pains,
    Yet for necessity of present life,
    I must show out a flag and sign of love,
    Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him,
    Lead to the Sagittary the raised search,
    And there will I be with him. So farewell.
Exit.

            Enter, below, Brabantio, in his nightgown, and
                        Servants with torches.

  BRABANTIO. It is too true an evil: gone she is,
    And what's to come of my despised time
    Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo,
    Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl!
    With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father!
    How didst thou know 'twas she? O, she deceives me
    Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers.
    Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you?
  RODERIGO. Truly, I think they are.
  BRABANTIO. O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood!
    Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
    By what you see them act. Is there not charms
    By which the property of youth and maidhood
    May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
    Of some such thing?
  RODERIGO.             Yes, sir, I have indeed.
  BRABANTIO. Call up my brother. O, would you had had her!
    Some one way, some another. Do you know
    Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?
  RODERIGO. I think I can discover him, if you please
    To get good guard and go along with me.
  BRABANTIO. Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call;
    I may command at most. Get weapons, ho!
    And raise some special officers of night.
    On, good Roderigo, I'll deserve your pains.
Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: On a street in Venice, there is an argument between Roderigo, a nobleman, and Iago, an ancient in the defense forces. Roderigo, in love with the noble lady Desdemona, has paid large sums of money to Iago, on the understanding that Iago would give her gifts from him and praise him to her. Roderigo hopes to win Desdemona's love and marry her. However, they now have news that Desdemona has left the house of her father, Brabantio, a Senator, and eloped with Othello, a Moor who is a General in the defense forces. Roderigo fears he has lost both his lady and his money. Iago reveals to Roderigo that it is in his nature to plot and tell lies to get what he wants and that he has a plan. He hates Othello for promoting Cassio to the position of lieutenant, a position that Iago wanted for himself. Iago plans to bring about Othello's downfall, and Roderigo will have Desdemona. First, they must wake Brabantio and cause an outcry. They bang and shout until Brabantio comes out onto the balcony. Iago tells him in inflammatory words that Desdemona has run away with Othello, and Brabantio, enraged, joins Roderigo to wake the neighbors and organize a search party.


prompt:
Chapter: SCENE II.
Another street.

Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants with torches.

  IAGO. Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
    Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience
    To do no contrived murther. I lack iniquity
    Sometimes to do me service. Nine or ten times
    I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.
  OTHELLO. 'Tis better as it is.
  IAGO.                          Nay, but he prated
    And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
    Against your honor
    That, with the little godliness I have,
    I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir,
    Are you fast married? Be assured of this,
    That the magnifico is much beloved,
    And hath in his effect a voice potential
    As double as the Duke's. He will divorce you,
    Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
    The law, with all his might to enforce it on,
    Will give him cable.
  OTHELLO.               Let him do his spite.
    My services, which I have done the signiory,
    Shall out--tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know--
    Which, when I know that boasting is an honor,
    I shall promulgate--I fetch my life and being
    From men of royal siege, and my demerits
    May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune
    As this that I have reach'd. For know, Iago,
    But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
    I would not my unhoused free condition
    Put into circumscription and confine
    For the sea's worth. But, look! What lights come yond?
  IAGO. Those are the raised father and his friends.
    You were best go in.
  OTHELLO.               Not I; I must be found.
    My parts, my title, and my perfect soul
    Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
  IAGO. By Janus, I think no.

           Enter Cassio and certain Officers with torches.

  OTHELLO. The servants of the Duke? And my lieutenant?
    The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
    What is the news?
  CASSIO.             The Duke does greet you, general,
    And he requires your haste--post--haste appearance,
    Even on the instant.
  OTHELLO.               What is the matter, think you?
  CASSIO. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine;
    It is a business of some heat. The galleys
    Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
    This very night at one another's heels;
    And many of the consuls, raised and met,
    Are at the Duke's already. You have been hotly call'd for,
    When, being not at your lodging to be found,
    The Senate hath sent about three several quests
    To search you out.
  OTHELLO.             'Tis well I am found by you.
    I will but spend a word here in the house
    And go with you.
Exit.
  CASSIO.            Ancient, what makes he here?
  IAGO. Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carack;
    If it prove lawful prize, he's made forever.
  CASSIO. I do not understand.
  IAGO.                        He's married.
  CASSIO.                                    To who?

                          Re-enter Othello.

  IAGO. Marry, to--Come, captain, will you go?
  OTHELLO.                                     Have with you.
  CASSIO. Here comes another troop to seek for you.
  IAGO. It is Brabantio. General, be advised,
    He comes to bad intent.

         Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers with torches
                             and weapons.

  OTHELLO.                  Holla! Stand there!
  RODERIGO. Signior, it is the Moor.
  BRABANTIO.                         Down with him, thief!
                                             They draw on both
sides.
  IAGO. You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you.
  OTHELLO. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust
them.
    Good signior, you shall more command with years
    Than with your weapons.
  BRABANTIO. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my
daughter?
    Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her,
    For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
    If she in chains of magic were not bound,
    Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy,
    So opposite to marriage that she shunn'd
    The wealthy, curled darlings of our nation,
    Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
    Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
    Of such a thing as thou--to fear, not to delight.
    Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense
    That thou hast practiced on her with foul charms,
    Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
    That weaken motion. I'll have't disputed on;
    'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
    I therefore apprehend and do attach thee
    For an abuser of the world, a practicer
    Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.
    Lay hold upon him. If he do resist,
    Subdue him at his peril.
  OTHELLO.                   Hold your hands,
    Both you of my inclining and the rest.
    Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
    Without a prompter. Where will you that I go
    To answer this your charge?
  BRABANTIO.                    To prison, till fit time
    Of law and course of direct session
    Call thee to answer.
  OTHELLO.               What if I do obey?
    How may the Duke be therewith satisfied,
    Whose messengers are here about my side,
    Upon some present business of the state
    To bring me to him?
  FIRST OFFICER.        'Tis true, most worthy signior;
    The Duke's in council, and your noble self,
    I am sure, is sent for.
  BRABANTIO.                How? The Duke in council?
    In this time of the night? Bring him away;
    Mine's not an idle cause. The Duke himself,
    Or any of my brothers of the state,
    Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own;
    For if such actions may have passage free,
    Bond slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.
Exeunt.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Iago warns Othello that there may be a legal attempt to break the marriage, but Othello knows his military worth to Venice and meets the Duke and Senators with confidence. Cassio has been sent to fetch him to an urgent meeting about the situation in Cyprus. Iago tells Cassio of Othello's marriage. Brabantio's party arrives; Brabantio threatens Othello with violence and accuses him of using sorcery to seduce Desdemona, his reasoning being that she would never marry Othello voluntarily. Brabantio calls for Othello's arrest and imprisonment but cedes precedence to the Duke's summons to the emergency meeting.


prompt:
Chapter: SCENE III.
A council chamber. The Duke and Senators sitting at a table;
Officers attending.

  DUKE. There is no composition in these news
    That gives them credit.
  FIRST SENATOR.            Indeed they are disproportion'd;
    My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.
  DUKE. And mine, a hundred and forty.
  SECOND SENATOR.                      And mine, two hundred.
    But though they jump not on a just account--
    As in these cases, where the aim reports,
    'Tis oft with difference--yet do they all confirm
    A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
  DUKE. Nay, it is possible enough to judgement.
    I do not so secure me in the error,
    But the main article I do approve
    In fearful sense.
  SAILOR. [Within.] What, ho! What, ho! What, ho!
  FIRST OFFICER. A messenger from the galleys.

                            Enter Sailor.

  DUKE.                                Now, what's the business?
  SAILOR. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes,
    So was I bid report here to the state
    By Signior Angelo.
  DUKE. How say you by this change?
  FIRST SENATOR.                    This cannot be,
    By no assay of reason; 'tis a pageant
    To keep us in false gaze. When we consider
    The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
    And let ourselves again but understand
    That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
    So may he with more facile question bear it,
    For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
    But altogether lacks the abilities
    That Rhodes is dress'd in. If we make thought of this,
    We must not think the Turk is so unskillful
    To leave that latest which concerns him first,
    Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,
    To wake and wage a danger profitless.
  DUKE. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
  FIRST OFFICER. Here is more news.

                          Enter a Messenger.

  MESSENGER. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
    Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes,
    Have there injointed them with an after fleet.
  FIRST SENATOR. Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?
  MESSENGER. Of thirty sail; and now they do re-stem
    Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
    Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
    Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
    With his free duty recommends you thus,
    And prays you to believe him.
  DUKE. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus.
    Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?
  FIRST SENATOR. He's now in Florence.
  DUKE. Write from us to him, post-post-haste dispatch.
  FIRST SENATOR. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

       Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers.

  DUKE. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
    Against the general enemy Ottoman.
    [To Brabantio.] I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
    We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight.
  BRABANTIO. So did I yours. Good your Grace, pardon me:
    Neither my place nor aught I heard of business
    Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care
    Take hold on me; for my particular grief
    Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature
    That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
    And it is still itself.
  DUKE.                     Why, what's the matter?
  BRABANTIO. My daughter! O, my daughter!
  ALL.                                    Dead?
  BRABANTIO.                                    Ay, to me.
    She is abused, stol'n from me and corrupted
    By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;
    For nature so preposterously to err,
    Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
    Sans witchcraft could not.
  DUKE. Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding
    Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself
    And you of her, the bloody book of law
    You shall yourself read in the bitter letter
    After your own sense, yea, though our proper son
    Stood in your action.
  BRABANTIO.              Humbly I thank your Grace.
    Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,
    Your special mandate for the state affairs
    Hath hither brought.
  ALL.                   We are very sorry for't.
  DUKE. [To Othello.] What in your own part can you say to this?
  BRABANTIO. Nothing, but this is so.
  OTHELLO. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
    My very noble and approved good masters,
    That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
    It is most true; true, I have married her;
    The very head and front of my offending
    Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
    And little blest with the soft phrase of peace;
    For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
    Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
    Their dearest action in the tented field,
    And little of this great world can I speak,
    More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;
    And therefore little shall I grace my cause
    In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
    I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
    Of my whole course of love: what drugs, what charms,
    What conjuration, and what mighty magic--
    For such proceeding I am charged withal--
    I won his daughter.
  BRABANTIO.            A maiden never bold,
    Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion
    Blush'd at herself; and she--in spite of nature,
    Of years, of country, credit, everything--
    To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on!
    It is judgement maim'd and most imperfect,
    That will confess perfection so could err
    Against all rules of nature, and must be driven
    To find out practices of cunning hell
    Why this should be. I therefore vouch again
    That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
    Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
    He wrought upon her.
  DUKE.                  To vouch this is no proof,
    Without more certain and more overt test
    Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
    Of modern seeming do prefer against him.
  FIRST SENATOR. But, Othello, speak.
    Did you by indirect and forced courses
    Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
    Or came it by request, and such fair question
    As soul to soul affordeth?
  OTHELLO.                     I do beseech you,
    Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
    And let her speak of me before her father.
    If you do find me foul in her report,
    The trust, the office I do hold of you,
    Not only take away, but let your sentence
    Even fall upon my life.
  DUKE.                     Fetch Desdemona hither.
  OTHELLO. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the place.
                                          Exeunt Iago and
Attendants.
    And till she come, as truly as to heaven
    I do confess the vices of my blood,
    So justly to your grave ears I'll present
    How I did thrive in this fair lady's love
    And she in mine.
  DUKE. Say it, Othello.
  OTHELLO. Her father loved me, oft invited me,
    Still question'd me the story of my life
    From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
    That I have pass'd.
    I ran it through, even from my boyish days
    To the very moment that he bade me tell it:
    Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
    Of moving accidents by flood and field,
    Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,
    Of being taken by the insolent foe
    And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence
    And portance in my travels' history;
    Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
    Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,
    It was my hint to speak--such was the process--
    And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
    The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
    Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
    Would Desdemona seriously incline;
    But still the house affairs would draw her thence,
    Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
    She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
    Devour up my discourse; which I observing,
    Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
    To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
    That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
    Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
    But not intentively. I did consent,
    And often did beguile her of her tears
    When I did speak of some distressful stroke
    That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
    She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;
    She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
    'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful.
    She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
    That heaven had made her such a man; she thank'd me,
    And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
    I should but teach him how to tell my story,
    And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
    She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
    And I loved her that she did pity them.
    This only is the witchcraft I have used.
    Here comes the lady; let her witness it.

                Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants.

  DUKE. I think this tale would win my daughter too.
    Good Brabantio,
    Take up this mangled matter at the best:
    Men do their broken weapons rather use
    Than their bare hands.
  BRABANTIO.               I pray you, hear her speak.
    If she confess that she was half the wooer,
    Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
    Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress.
    Do you perceive in all this noble company
    Where most you owe obedience?
  DESDEMONA.                      My noble father,
    I do perceive here a divided duty.
    To you I am bound for life and education;
    My life and education both do learn me
    How to respect you; you are the lord of duty,
    I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband,
    And so much duty as my mother show'd
    To you, preferring you before her father,
    So much I challenge that I may profess
    Due 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 seal 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 be sent after me.
  DUKE.                  Let it be so.
    Good night to everyone. [To Brabantio.] And, noble signior,
    If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
    Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
  FIRST SENATOR. Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.
  BRABANTIO. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see;
    She has deceived her father, and may thee.
                                 Exeunt Duke, Senators, and
Officers.
  OTHELLO. My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,
    My Desdemona must I leave to thee.
    I prithee, let thy wife attend on her,
    And bring them after in the best advantage.
    Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour
    Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
    To spend with thee. We must obey the time.
                                        Exeunt Othello and
Desdemona.
  RODERIGO. Iago!
  IAGO. What say'st thou, noble heart?
  RODERIGO. What will I do, thinkest thou?
  IAGO. Why, go to bed and sleep.
  RODERIGO. I will incontinently drown myself.
  IAGO. If thou dost, I shall never love thee after.
    Why, thou silly gentleman!
  RODERIGO. It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and
then
    have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
  IAGO. O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four times
    seven years, and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit
and
    an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself.
Ere I
    would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea hen,
I
    would change my humanity with a baboon.
  RODERIGO. What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so
fond,
    but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
  IAGO. Virtue? a fig! 'Tis in ourselves that we are thus or
thus.
    Our bodies are gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners;
so
    that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and
weed
    up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it
with
    many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with

    industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this
lies in
    our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of
    reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness
of
    our natures would conduct us to most preposterous
conclusions.
    But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal
stings,
    our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this, that you call love,
to
    be a sect or scion.
  RODERIGO. It cannot be.
  IAGO. It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the
    will. Come, be a man! Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind
    puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me
knit to
    thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could
never
    better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow
thou
    the wars; defeat thy favor with an usurped beard. I say, put
    money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long
    continue her love to the Moor--put money in thy purse--nor he
his
    to her. It was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an
    answerable sequestration--put but money in thy purse. These
Moors
    are changeable in their wills--fill thy purse with money. The
    food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to
him
    shortly as acerb as the coloquintida. She must change for
youth;
    when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of
her
    choice. She must have change, she must; therefore put money
in
    thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more
delicate
    way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst. If
sanctimony
    and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle
    Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of
hell,
    thou shalt enjoy her--therefore make money. A pox of drowning
    thyself! It is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be
    hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go
without
    her.
  RODERIGO. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the
issue?
  IAGO. Thou art sure of me--go, make money. I have told thee
often,
    and I retell thee again and again, I hate the Moor. My cause
is
    hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in
our
    revenge against him. If thou canst cuckold him, thou dost
thyself
    a pleasure, me a sport. There are many events in the womb of
time
    which will be delivered. Traverse, go, provide thy money. We
will
    have more of this tomorrow. Adieu.
  RODERIGO. Where shall we meet i' the morning?
  IAGO. At my lodging.
  RODERIGO. I'll be with thee betimes.
  IAGO. Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?
  RODERIGO. What say you?
  IAGO. No more of drowning, do you hear?
  RODERIGO. I am changed; I'll go sell all my land.
Exit.
  IAGO. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;
    For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane
    If I would time expend with such a snipe
    But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor,
    And it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets
    He has done my office. I know not if't be true,
    But I for mere suspicion in that kind
    Will do as if for surety. He holds me well,
    The better shall my purpose work on him.
    Cassio's a proper man. Let me see now--
    To get his place, and to plume up my will
    In double knavery--How, how?--Let's see--
    After some time, to abuse Othello's ear
    That he is too familiar with his wife.
    He hath a person and a smooth dispose
    To be suspected--framed to make women false.
    The Moor is of a free and open nature,
    That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
    And will as tenderly be led by the nose
    As asses are.
    I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night
    Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
     Exit.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Several reports have come in from Cyprus, all calling attention to a Turkish fleet that is expected to attack. The reports differ in the size of the fleet, but all speak of the danger as the combined force has turned back toward Cyprus. Othello enters the meeting with Cassio, Brabantio, Iago, and others, and the Duke immediately appoints Othello to lead the forces to defend Cyprus. At this point, the Duke notices Brabantio, who believes that his daughter has been corrupted with magic potions because, according to him, she wound never willingly marry such a man as she did. Initially, the Duke promises him support in a prosecution for witchcraft, a capital crime, against the man who has seduced his daughter, but when the Duke realizes the seducer is Othello, he calls on the general to defend himself. Othello describes his courtship of Desdemona in a dignified and persuasive speech and asks the Duke to send for Desdemona so that she may speak. Iago leads the group that goes to fetch her. When Othello finishes speaking, the Duke declares in favor of Othello: "I think this tale would win my daughter too" . Desdemona then speaks, gently outlining an argument so strong that it finishes the whole debate: She owes obedience and thanks to her father for her upbringing, but now that she is married, her loyalty is to her husband, just as her mother's loyalty was to Brabantio. Fathers must give way to husbands. Othello must go immediately to Cyprus to command its defense, and Desdemona requests to go as well. The Duke grants her wish, and Othello, who must leave that night, delegates Iago to follow later in another ship, bringing Desdemona and whatever else is needed. Iago's wife, Emilia, will look after Desdemona as her maid. As Othello leaves. Brabantio warns Othello, "She has deceived her father, and may thee" , but Othello is certain of Desdemona's faithfulness. Iago and Roderigo are left on stage. Roderigo is downcast and talks of drowning himself. Iago replies with scorn that such misery is silliness and convinces Roderigo to go to Cyprus and wait for Desdemona to come to him, as she will surely soon become bored with Othello. Iago, because he hates Othello, says he will help Roderigo have Desdemona and reminds Roderigo to bring plenty of money. Iago, alone on stage, considers the situation: He has consolidated his source of money, and he has heard a rumor that Othello has had sex with his wife, Emilia. Although he does not believe the rumor, he will act as though he does to feed his hatred. Also Iago will aim to get Cassio's position of lieutenant, which he thinks should have come to him.