Othello in Turban
Othello in Turban
Ofgreat natural dignity, simple and loyal. Driven to irresistibly follow an impulse when it has once seized his mind. Tortured to distraction by Iago. All the primitive savagery of his race is manifested.
The nose is first depressed by crossing it near the tip with a silk thread which is tied at the back of the head. A small piece of kid is placed under the thread, thus keeping from coming into contact with the skin. The nostrils are built out until the nose has a Moorish appearance.
The face is first covered with 2-1/2 and subsequently with a mixture of Nos. 10 and 13.
The colouring is made much stronger round the eyes.
High lights are faintly suggested on the forehead and on the cheek bones.
The beard, which had better be of crepe hair, should be so applied that the flesh shows through.
Reddish brown powder is used, and the make-up is finished by painting strong black lines on the edges of the eyelids. The eyebrows are also of black. The lips are No. 13 with a little carmine added.
Ear-rings and a turban help the make-up.
OTHELLO AND IAGO
Iago.I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,And let him find it. Trifles, light as air,Are to the jealous, confirmations strongAs proofs of holy writ. This may do something.The Moor already changes with my poison:Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons,Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste;But, with a little act upon the blood,Burn like the mines of sulphur.—I did say so:—
EnterOthello.
EnterOthello.
Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep,Which thou ow'dst yesterday.Othello.Ha! ha! false to me? To me?Iago.Why, how now, general? no more of that.Othello.Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack—I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd,Than but to know't a little.Iago.How now, my lord?Othello.What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust?I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:I slept the next night well, was free and merry;I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen,Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.Iago.I am sorry to hear this.Othello.I had been happy, if the general camp,Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body,So I had nothing known: O now, for ever,Farewell, the tranquil mind: farewell content!Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,The royal banner; and all quality,Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throatsThe immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!Iago.Is't possible, my lord?Othello.Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore:Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof;
[Taking him by the throat.
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,Thou had'st been better have been born a dog,Than answer my wak'd wrath.Iago.Is't come to this?Othello.Make me to see't, or, at the least, so prove it,That the probation bear no hinge nor loop,To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!Iago.My noble lord,—Othello.If thou dost slander her, and torture me,Never pray more; abandon all remorse:On horror's head, horrors accumulate:Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd,For nothing canst thou to damnation add,Greater than that.Iago.O grace! O heaven forgive me!Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched fool,That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world!To be direct and honest is not safe.I thank you for this profit; and, from hence,I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.Othello.Nay, stay:—Thou should'st be honest.Iago.I should be wise; for honesty's a fool,And loses that it works for.Othello.By the world,I think my wife be honest, and think, she is not.I think that thou art just and think thou art not.I'll have some proof: Her name, that was as freshAs Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and blackAs mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!Iago.I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion;I do repent me, that I put it to you.You would be satisfied?Othello.Would! nay, I will.Iago.And may: But, how? how satisfied, my lord?Would you, the supervisor grossly gape on?Behold her tupp'd?Othello.Death and damnation! O!Iago.It were a tedious difficulty, I think,To bring them to that prospect: Damn them then,If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster,More than their own! What then? how then?What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?It is impossible you should see this,Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as grossAs ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,If imputation, and strong circumstances,Which lead directly to the door of truth,Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.Othello.Give me a living reason she's disloyal.Iago.I do not like the office:But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,—Prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love,—I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;And being troubled with a raging tooth,I could not sleep.There are a kind of men so loose of soul,That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs,One of this kind is Cassio.In sleep I heard him say,—"Sweet Desdemona,Let us be wary, let us hide our loves!"And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,Cry, "O sweet creature!" and then kiss me hard,As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots,That grew upon my lips: then laid his legOver my thigh, and sigh'd, and kissed; and then,Cry'd, "Cursed fate! that gave thee to the Moor!"Othello.O monstrous! monstrous!Iago.Nay, this was but his dream.Othello.But this denoted a foregone conclusion;'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.Iago.And this may help to thicken other proofs,That do demonstrate thinly.Othello.I'll tear her all to pieces.Iago.Nay, but be wise; yet we see nothing done;She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,—Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?Othello.I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.Iago.I know not that: but such a handkerchief,I am sure it was your wife's, did I to-daySee Cassio wipe his beard with.Othello.If it be that,—Iago.If it be that, or any that was hers,It speaks against her with the other proofs.Othello.O, that the slave had forty thousand lives;One is too poor, too weak for my revenge!Now do I see 'tis true.—Look here, Iago;All my fond love thus—I do blow to heaven:'Tis gone.—Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow hell!Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throneTo tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,For 'tis of aspics' tongues!Iago.Yet, be content.Othello.O, blood, blood, blood!Iago.Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may change.Othello.Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic sea,Whose icy current and compulsive courseNe'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due onTo the Propontic, and the Hellespont;Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,Till that a capable and wide revengeSwallow them up.—Now, by yond marble heaven,In the due reverence of a sacred vow [Kneels.]I here engage my words.Iago.Do not rise yet. [Kneels.]Witness, you ever-burning lights above!You elements that clip us round about!Witness, that here Iago doth give upThe execution of his wit, hands, heart,To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command,And to obey shall be in me remorse,What bloody business soever. [They rise.Othello.I greet thy love,Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,—And will upon the instant put thee to't:Within these three days let me hear thee say,That Cassio's not alive.Iago.My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:But let her live.Othello.Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!Come, go with me apart: I will withdraw,To furnish me with some swift means of deathFor the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.Iago.I am your own for ever. [Exeunt.
A bucolicegoist, vain, dense, and narrow.
The groundwork for this is No. 3 with a little 13 added. White is rubbed into the cheeks in the shape of high lights to broaden the appearance of the face. A triangular shadow painted on the under part of the nose makes this feature seem to tilt upward. The eyebrows are almost entirely obliterated with thick grease paint, as also are the eyelashes. The small perpendicular lines at the ends of the eyes seem to reduce their size. The corners of the mouth are extended with paint, and the tight-fitting wig drawn well over the forehead seems, while it diminishes the size of the head, to make the face appear larger.
Much of the stupidity of countenance is due to expression.
BOTTOM THE WEAVER
Bottomawakes. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, "Most fair Pyramus." Hey, ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's, my life! stolen hence, and left me asleep. I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream,—past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was,—there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had,—but man is but a patched fool if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream; it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death.