prompt:
Chapter: SCENE II.
A room in the castle.

Enter Othello and Emilia.

  OTHELLO. You have seen nothing, then?
  EMILIA. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.
  OTHELLO. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
  EMILIA. But then I saw no harm, and then I heard
    Each syllable that breath made up between them.
  OTHELLO. What, did they never whisper?
  EMILIA.                                Never, my lord.
  OTHELLO. Nor send you out o' the way?
  EMILIA. Never.
  OTHELLO. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
  EMILIA. Never, my lord.
  OTHELLO. That's strange.
  EMILIA. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
    Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other,
    Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
    If any wretch have put this in your head,
    Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!
    For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
    There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
    Is foul as slander.
  OTHELLO.              Bid her come hither; go.         Exit
Emilia.
    She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd
    That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
    A closet lock and key of villainous secrets.
    And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't.

                     Enter Desdemona with Emilia.

  DESDEMONA. My lord, what is your will?
  OTHELLO.                               Pray, chuck, come
hither.
  DESDEMONA. What is your pleasure?
  OTHELLO.                          Let me see your eyes;
    Look in my face.
  DESDEMONA.         What horrible fancy's this?
  OTHELLO. [To Emilia.] Some of your function, mistress,
    Leave procreants alone and shut the door;
    Cough, or cry "hem," if anybody come.
    Your mystery, your mystery; nay, dispatch.           Exit
Emilia.
  DESDEMONA. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
    I understand a fury in your words,
    But not the words.
  OTHELLO. Why, what art thou?
  DESDEMONA. Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife.
  OTHELLO. Come, swear it, damn thyself;
    Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
    Should fear to seize thee. Therefore be double-damn'd;
    Swear thou art honest.
  DESDEMONA.               Heaven doth truly know it.
  OTHELLO. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.
  DESDEMONA. To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?
  OTHELLO. O Desdemona! Away! away! away!
  DESDEMONA. Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?
    Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
    If haply you my father do suspect
    An instrument of this your calling back,
    Lay not your blame on me. If you have lost him,
    Why, I have lost him too.
  OTHELLO.                    Had it pleased heaven
    To try me with affliction, had they rain'd
    All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head,
    Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
    Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
    I should have found in some place of my soul
    A drop of patience; but, alas, to make me
    A fixed figure for the time for scorn
    To point his slow unmoving finger at!
    Yet could I bear that too, well, very well;
    But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
    Where either I must live or bear no life;
    The fountain from the which my current runs,
    Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
    Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
    To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,
    Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,
    Ay, there, look grim as hell!
  DESDEMONA. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
  OTHELLO. O, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles,
    That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
    Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
    That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been
born!
  DESDEMONA. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?
  OTHELLO. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
    Made to write "whore" upon? What committed?
    Committed? O thou public commoner!
    I should make very forges of my cheeks,
    That would to cinders burn up modesty,
    Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
    Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
    The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
    Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
    And will not hear it. What committed?
    Impudent strumpet!
  DESDEMONA.           By heaven, you do me wrong.
  OTHELLO. Are not you a strumpet?
  DESDEMONA.                       No, as I am a Christian.
    If to preserve this vessel for my lord
    From any other foul unlawful touch
    Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.
  OTHELLO. What, not a whore?
  DESDEMONA.                  No, as I shall be saved.
  OTHELLO. Is't possible?
  DESDEMONA. O, heaven forgive us!
  OTHELLO.                         I cry you mercy then;
    I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
    That married with Othello. [Raises his voice.] You, mistress,
    That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
    And keep the gate of hell!

                           Re-enter Emilia.

                               You, you, ay, you!
    We have done our course; there's money for your pains.
    I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel.
Exit.
  EMILIA. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
    How do you, madam? How do you, my good lady?
  DESDEMONA. Faith, half asleep.
  EMILIA. Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?
  DESDEMONA. With who?
  EMILIA. Why, with my lord, madam.
  DESDEMONA. Who is thy lord?
  EMILIA.                     He that is yours, sweet lady.
  DESDEMONA. I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia;
    I cannot weep, nor answer have I none
    But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight
    Lay on my bed my wedding sheets. Remember,
    And call thy husband hither.
  EMILIA.                        Here's a change indeed!
     Exit.
  DESDEMONA. 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
    How have I been behaved, that he might stick
    The small'st opinion on my least misuse?

                      Re-enter Emilia with Iago.

  IAGO. What is your pleasure, madam? How is't with you?
  DESDEMONA. I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes
    Do it with gentle means and easy tasks.
    He might have chid me so, for in good faith,
    I am a child to chiding.
  IAGO.                      What's the matter, lady?
  EMILIA. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her,
    Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
    As true hearts cannot bear.
  DESDEMONA. Am I that name, Iago?
  IAGO.                            What name, fair lady?
  DESDEMONA. Such as she says my lord did say I was.
  EMILIA. He call'd her whore; a beggar in his drink
    Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.
  IAGO. Why did he so?
  DESDEMONA. I do not know; I am sure I am none such.
  IAGO. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!
  EMILIA. Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
    Her father and her country and her friends,
    To be call'd whore? Would it not make one weep?
  DESDEMONA. It is my wretched fortune.
  IAGO.                                 Beshrew him for't!
    How comes this trick upon him?
  DESDEMONA.                       Nay, heaven doth know.
  EMILIA. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
    Some busy and insinuating rogue,
    Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
    Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else.
  IAGO. Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible.
  DESDEMONA. If any such there be, heaven pardon him!
  EMILIA. A halter pardon him! And hell gnaw his bones!
    Why should he call her whore? Who keeps her company?
    What place? What time? What form? What likelihood?
    The Moor's abused by some most villainous knave,
    Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
    O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold,
    And put in every honest hand a whip
    To lash the rascals naked through the world
    Even from the east to the west!
  IAGO.                             Speak within door.
  EMILIA. O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was
    That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,
    And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
  IAGO. You are a fool; go to.
  DESDEMONA.                   O good Iago,
    What shall I do to win my lord again?
    Good friend, go to him, for by this light of heaven,
    I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:
    If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love
    Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,
    Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
    Delighted them in any other form,
    Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
    And ever will, though he do shake me off
    To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,
    Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much,
    And his unkindness may defeat my life,
    But never taint my love. I cannot say "whore."
    It doth abhor me now I speak the word;
    To do the act that might the addition earn
    Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.
  IAGO. I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humor:
    The business of the state does him offense,
    And he does chide with you.
  DESDEMONA. If 'twere no other--
  IAGO. 'Tis but so, I warrant.                      Trumpets
within.
    Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
    The messengers of Venice stay the meat.
    Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.
                                         Exeunt Desdemona and
Emilia.

                           Enter Roderigo.

    How now, Roderigo!
  RODERIGO. I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.
  IAGO. What in the contrary?
  RODERIGO. Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and
    rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all
conveniency
    than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will
indeed
    no longer endure it; nor am I yet persuaded to put up in
peace
    what already I have foolishly suffered.
  IAGO. Will you hear me, Roderigo?
  RODERIGO. Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and
    performances are no kin together.
  IAGO. You charge me most unjustly.
  RODERIGO. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my
    means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to
Desdemona
    would half have corrupted a votarist. You have told me she
hath
    received them and returned me expectations and comforts of
sudden
    respect and acquaintance; but I find none.
  IAGO. Well, go to, very well.
  RODERIGO. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis not
very
    well. By this hand, I say 'tis very scurvy, and begin to find
    myself fopped in it.
  IAGO. Very well.
  RODERIGO. I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself
known
    to Desdemona. If she will return me my jewels, I will give
over
    my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure
    yourself I will seek satisfaction of you.
  IAGO. You have said now.
  RODERIGO. Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of
    doing.
  IAGO. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; and even from this

    instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before.
Give
    me thy hand, Roderigo. Thou hast taken against me a most just
    exception; but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in
thy
    affair.
  RODERIGO. It hath not appeared.
  IAGO. I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion
is
    not without wit and judgement. But, Roderigo, if thou hast
that
    in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now
than
    ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valor, this night show it;
if
    thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me
from
    this world with treachery and devise engines for my life.
  RODERIGO. Well, what is it? Is it within reason and compass?
  IAGO. Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to
depute
    Cassio in Othello's place.
  RODERIGO. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona return
again
    to Venice.
  IAGO. O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him
the
    fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some
    accident; wherein none can be so determinate as the removing
of
    Cassio.
  RODERIGO. How do you mean, removing of him?
  IAGO. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place; knocking
out
    his brains.
  RODERIGO. And that you would have me to do?
  IAGO. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups
    tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him. He
knows
    not yet of his honorable fortune. If you will watch his going
    thence, which his will fashion to fall out between twelve and
    one, you may take him at your pleasure; I will be near to
second
    your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not
    amazed at it, but go along with me; I will show you such a
    necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to
put
    it on him. It is now high supper-time, and the night grows to
    waste. About it.
  RODERIGO. I will hear further reason for this.
  IAGO. And you shall be satisfied.
Exeunt.

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

completion: Othello questions Emilia about Desdemona, but she assures him that nothing immodest has taken place between her mistress and Cassio. Othello, rather than abandon his suspicions, believes Desdemona is so cunning that she has managed to deceive even her maid. Othello speaks with Desdemona in private, threatening to banish her and calling her "whore" and "strumpet" -- charges that she immediately denies. Emilia comes in, and Othello leaves. Exhausted, Desdemona knows that she is being punished, but she does not know what for. Emilia suspects that some villain has turned Othello against his wife and stirred up his jealousy. When Desdemona asks Iago's advice, he says that it is only the business of the state that makes Othello angry. Later, in a conversation with Iago, Roderigo confesses that he has had enough of his romantic quest and plans to withdraw. Iago makes a bold move, linking his two plots together: He urges Roderigo to kill Cassio, explaining that Cassio's death will prevent Othello being sent elsewhere and, therefore, keep Desdemona in Cyprus. Roderigo allows himself to be persuaded.


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 the supper, Othello orders Desdemona to go to bed and to dismiss her attendant. Desdemona and Emilia discuss the situation; Emilia sees the marriage with Othello as a mistake, but Desdemona regrets nothing. She has a premonition of death and requests Emilia, if she should die, to wrap her body in one of her wedding sheets, which are now on the bed. Desdemona sings the "Willow Song," remembering the maid Barbary whose lover went mad and abandoned her, and she died singing this song.


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: In the street at night, Iago directs Roderigo to ambush Cassio. When Cassio approaches, Roderigo attacks unsuccessfully and is wounded by Cassio. Iago, from behind, stabs Cassio in the leg and runs away while Cassio cries murder. Othello, hearing Cassio's cry, believes that Iago has done the job he has undertaken. Following Iago's lead, Othello must harden his heart against the charms of his wife and spill her blood in the bed where she has betrayed him.


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: Desdemona lies asleep in bed, and Othello enters, dreadfully calm and sure in what he must do. Desdemona wakens and calls him to bed, but he tells her to pray at once, repenting anything she needs to repent, and he will wait while she prays because he does not want to kill her soul. Suddenly, Desdemona realizes that Othello intends to kill her. She is afraid, although she knows she is not guilty. Knowing that she cannot convince him of her fidelity, Desdemona weeps and begs him to banish her rather than kill her, or let her live just a little more, but he stifles her, presumably with a pillow. When Emilia knocks on the door, Othello draws the bed-curtain across, hiding the bed, and opens the door to hear the news. What Emilia reports is not what Othello expected. She says that Cassio has killed Roderigo. Then Desdemona's voice is heard from the bed, saying "falsely murdered" and Emilia calls for help. Desdemona says that she is innocent, denies that anyone has killed her, and dies. Emilia and Othello confront each other. Emilia sees herself as a witness and will tell what she has seen, and Othello declares that he has killed Desdemona because of her infidelity. Emilia insists that Desdemona was faithful; Othello replies that Cassio had been with her, and Iago knew all about it. Now Emilia has the key idea. She says "my husband" over and over, while Othello pours out his heart on justice and how he loved her and how Iago is honest. Emilia curses Iago, calls him a liar, and cries murder to waken everyone. Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others rush into the bedchamber where Emilia is shouting, and she challenges Iago to defend himself, giving him one last chance to retrieve himself in her estimation. Iago says that Desdemona was indeed unfaithful with Cassio, but Emilia knows this is untrue. She tells how she found the handkerchief, which her husband had asked her to steal, and gave it to him. Iago stabs Emilia and runs out. As she dies, Emilia tells Othello that Desdemona loved him. Othello realizes, too late, that he had been tricked and manipulated. Iago is caught and brought back. Othello and Cassio demand to know why he did it, but Iago refuses to explain and says he will never speak again. Othello, watching his world unravel, asks the men to remember him clearly, his good points and his bad, as "one that lov'd not wisely, but too well." Then he stabs himself, falls onto the bed, and dies. Lodovico takes charge, giving Othello's house and property to Gratiano, his next of kin by marriage. Cassio will be commander and have the power to sentence Iago, and Lodovico will return to Venice with the sad news.


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: In following him I follow but myself;Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,But seeming so for my peculiar end. Othello begins on a street in Venice, in the midst of an argument between Roderigo and Iago. The rich Roderigo has been paying Iago to help him in his suit to Desdemona, but he has seen no progress, and he has just learned that Desdemona has married Othello, a general whom Iago serves as ensign. Iago reassures Roderigo that he hates Othello. Chief among Iago's reasons for this hatred is Othello's recent promotion of Michael Cassio to the post of lieutenant. In spite of Iago's service in battle and the recommendation of three "great ones" of the city, Othello chose to give the position to a man with no experience leading men in battle. As he waits for an opportunity to further his own self-interest, Iago only pretends to serve Othello. Iago advises Roderigo to spoil some of Othello's pleasure in his marriage by rousing Desdemona's family against the general. The two men come to the street outside the house of Desdemona's father, Brabanzio, and cry out that he has been robbed by "thieves. Brabanzio, who is a Venetian senator, comes to the window. At first, he doesn't believe what he hears, because he has told Roderigo to stay away from his daughter before and thinks Roderigo is merely scheming once again in order to see Desdemona. Iago speaks in inflammatory terms, vulgarly telling the senator that his daughter and Othello are having sex by saying that they are "making the beast with two backs". Brabanzio begins to take what he hears seriously and decides to search for his daughter. Seeing the success of his plan, Iago leaves Roderigo alone and goes to attend on Othello. Like Brabanzio, Othello has no idea of Iago's role in Roderigo's accusations. As Iago departs, Brabanzio comes out of his house, furious that his daughter has left him. Declaring that his daughter has been stolen from him by magic "charms," Brabanzio and his men follow Roderigo to Othello


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 arrives at Othello's lodgings, where he warns the general that Brabanzio will not hesitate to attempt to force a divorce between Othello and Desdemona. Othello sees a party of men approaching, and Iago, thinking that Brabanzio and his followers have arrived, counsels Othello to retreat indoors. Othello stands his ground, but the party turns out to be Cassio and officers from the Venetian court. They bring Othello the message that he is wanted by the duke of Venice about a matter concerning Cyprus, an island in the Mediterranean Sea controlled by Venice. As Cassio and his men prepare to leave, Iago mentions that Othello is married, but before he can say any more, Brabanzio, Roderigo, and Brabanzio's men arrive to accost Othello. Brabanzio orders his men to attack and subdue Othello. A struggle between Brabanzio's and Othello's followers seems imminent, but Othello brings the confrontation to a halt by calmly and authoritatively telling both sides to put up their swords. Hearing that the duke has summoned Othello to the court, Brabanzio decides to bring his cause before the duke himself


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: But here's my husband,And so much duty as my mother showedTo you, preferring you before her father,So much I challenge that I may professDue to the Moor my lord.  The duke's meeting with his senators about the imminent Turkish invasion of Cyprus takes an unexpected turn when a sailor arrives and announces that the Turks seem to have turned toward Rhodes, another island controlled by Venice. One of the senators guesses that the Turks' change of course is intended to mislead the Venetians, because Cyprus is more important to the Turks and far more vulnerable than Rhodes. This guess proves to be correct, as another messenger arrives to report that the Turks have joined with more forces and are heading back toward Cyprus. This military meeting is interrupted by the arrival of Brabanzio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Roderigo, and officers. Brabanzio demands that all state business be put aside to address his own grievance--his daughter has been stolen from him by spells and potions purchased from charlatans. The duke is initially eager to take Brabanzio's side, but he becomes more skeptical when he learns that Othello is the man accused. The duke gives Othello the chance to speak for himself. Othello admits that he married Desdemona, but he denies having used magic to woo her and claims that Desdemona will support his story. He explains that Brabanzio frequently invited him to his house and questioned him about his remarkable life story, full of harrowing battles, travels outside the civilized world, and dramatic reversals of fortune. Desdemona overheard parts of the story and found a convenient time to ask Othello to retell it to her. Desdemona was moved to love Othello by his story. The duke is persuaded by Othello's tale, dismissing Brabanzio's claim by remarking that the story probably would win his own daughter. Desdemona enters, and Brabanzio asks her to tell those present to whom she owes the most obedience. Brabanzio clearly expects her to say her father. Desdemona, however, confirms that she married Othello of her own free will and that, like her own mother before her, she must shift her primary loyalty from father to husband. Brabanzio reluctantly resigns himself to her decision and allows the court to return to state affairs. The duke decides that Othello must go to Cyprus to defend the island from the Turks. Othello is willing and ready to go, and he asks that appropriate accommodations be provided for his wife. The duke suggests that she stay with her father, but neither Desdemona nor Brabanzio nor Othello will accept this, and Desdemona asks to be allowed to go with Othello. The couple then leaves to prepare for the night's voyage. The stage is cleared, leaving only Roderigo and Iago. Once again, Roderigo feels that his hopes of winning Desdemona have been dashed, but Iago insists that all will be well. Iago mocks Roderigo for threatening to drown himself, and Roderigo protests that he can't help being tormented by love. Iago contradicts him, asserting that people can choose at will what they want to be. "Put but money in thy purse," Iago tells Roderigo repeatedly in the paragraph that spans lines 329-351, urging him to follow him to Cyprus. Iago promises to work everything out from there. When Roderigo leaves, Iago delivers his first soliloquy, declaring his hatred for Othello and his suspicion that Othello has slept with his wife, Emilia. He lays out his plan to cheat Roderigo out of his money, to convince Othello that Cassio has slept with Desdemona, and to use Othello's honest and unsuspecting nature to bring him to his demise.