Looking for the old version of Othello? Click here. Othello is the trading name of a much older board game, Reversi. In both its originally named form and the newer trademark this game has become very popular on computers as much as in board format. Often referred to as a game of abstract strategy, Othello can only be played as a 2 player game.
Made up of 8 rows and 8 columns, the board is populated with pieces from both players in turn. The green board is inspired by Othello valiantly leading his battle in a green field.
Free games for everybody! We use cookies for the games and to improve your experience on the website. Click OK to accept our cookies. Browser Games. Othello Reversi Online Game Player. Play the online game: In this online Reversi version you can play against the computer or versus a friend:. Download Reversi for Android:. More free games:. Hot Romeo and Juliet. The Riverside Shakespeare by William Shakespeare.
Kissing Shakespeare by Pamela Mingle. Shakespeare by Bill Bryson. La tempestad by William Shakespeare. La tempesta by William Shakespeare. Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the impediment most profitably removed, without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity.
I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel: I must fetch his necessaries ashore. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit: The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband.
Now, I do love her too; Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a sin, But partly led to diet my revenge, For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards; And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife, Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb— For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too— Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.
For making him egregiously an ass And practising upon his peace and quiet Even to madness. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph; some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial.
So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!
Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night: Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop, Not to outsport discretion. Iago hath direction what to do; But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye Will I look to't. Iago is most honest. Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest Let me have speech with you.
Good night. Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch. Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for Jove. She's a most exquisite lady. And, I'll warrant her, fun of game.
Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature. What an eye she has! An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest. And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love? She is indeed perfection. Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello.
Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for you. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.
What, man! Where are they? Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. I'll do't; but it dislikes me. If I can fasten but one cup upon him, With that which he hath drunk to-night already, He'll be as full of quarrel and offence As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo, Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath to-night caroused Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch: Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honours in a wary distance, The very elements of this warlike isle, Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups, And they watch too.
Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards, Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle. Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier. Some wine, ho!
Some wine, boys! I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander—Drink, ho! Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking? Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled.
To the health of our general! I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice. O sweet England! He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree: 'Tis pride that pulls the country down; Then take thine auld cloak about thee. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. Will you hear't again? No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
It's true, good lieutenant. For mine own part,—no offence to the general, nor any man of quality,—I hope to be saved. And so do I too, lieutenant. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's have no more of this; let's to our affairs. Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left: I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough.
Excellent well. Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk. To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch. You see this fellow that is gone before; He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar And give direction: and do but see his vice; 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him. On some odd time of his infirmity, Will shake this island. But is he often thus? It were well The general were put in mind of it.
Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio, And looks not on his evils: is not this true? I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft infirmity: It were an honest action to say So to the Moor.
Not I, for this fair island: I do love Cassio well; and would do much To cure him of this evil—But, hark! You rogue! What's the matter, lieutenant? A knave teach me my duty! I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle. Beat me! Dost thou prate, rogue? Nay, good lieutenant; [Staying him] I pray you, sir, hold your hand. Let me go, sir, Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. Come, come, you're drunk. The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold! What is the matter here? Hold, for your lives!
Hold, ho! Lieutenant,—sir—Montano,—gentlemen,— Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? Why, how now, ho! For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl: He that stirs next to carve for his own rage Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. What is the matter, masters?
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving, Speak, who began this? I do not know: friends all but now, even now, In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom Devesting them for bed; and then, but now— As if some planet had unwitted men— Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast, In opposition bloody.
I cannot speak Any beginning to this peevish odds; And would in action glorious I had lost Those legs that brought me to a part of it! How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil; The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths of wisest censure: what's the matter, That you unlace your reputation thus And spend your rich opinion for the name Of a night-brawler? Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger: Your officer, Iago, can inform you,— While I spare speech, which something now offends me,— Of all that I do know: nor know I aught By me that's said or done amiss this night; Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin When violence assails us.
Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule; And passion, having my best judgment collied, Assays to lead the way: if I once stir, Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke.
Give me to know How this foul rout began, who set it on; And he that is approved in this offence, Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, Shall lose me. Iago, who began't? If partially affined, or leagued in office, Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier. Touch me not so near: I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio; Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth Shall nothing wrong him.
Thus it is, general. Montano and myself being in speech, There comes a fellow crying out for help: And Cassio following him with determined sword, To execute upon him.
Sir, this gentleman Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause: Myself the crying fellow did pursue, Lest by his clamour—as it so fell out— The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot, Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night I ne'er might say before.
When I came back— For this was brief—I found them close together, At blow and thrust; even as again they were When you yourself did part them. More of this matter cannot I report: But men are men; the best sometimes forget: Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, As men in rage strike those that wish them best, Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received From him that fled some strange indignity, Which patience could not pass.
I know, Iago, Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee But never more be officer of mine. I'll make thee an example. What's the matter? All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed. Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon: Lead him off. Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? Ay, past all surgery. Marry, heaven forbid! Reputation, reputation, reputation!
O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation! As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without deserving: you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.
I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil! What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you? I know not. Is't possible? I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered?
It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself. Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen; but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard!
Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is unblessed and the ingredient is a devil. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.
And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you. I have well approved it, sir. I drunk! You or any man living may be drunk! I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife is now the general: may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune her help to put you in your place again: she is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested: this broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.
You advise me well. I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must to the watch. And what's he then that says I play the villain?
When this advice is free I give and honest, Probal to thinking and indeed the course To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy The inclining Desdemona to subdue In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful As the free elements.
And then for her To win the Moor—were't to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. How am I then a villain To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, Directly to his good?
Divinity of hell! When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now: for whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, That she repeals him for her body's lust; And by how much she strives to do him good, She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all. I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains, and so, with no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.
How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft; And wit depends on dilatory time. Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee. And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio: Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe: Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning; Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted: Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter: Nay, get thee gone. Masters, play here; I will content your pains; Something that's brief; and bid 'Good morrow, general. Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i' the nose thus? First Musician. How, sir, how! Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments? Ay, marry, are they, sir. O, thereby hangs a tail.
Whereby hangs a tale, sir? But, masters, here's money for you: and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more noise with it. Well, sir, we will not. If you have any music that may not be heard, to't again: but, as they say to hear music the general does not greatly care.
We have none such, sir. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away: go; vanish into air; away! Dost thou hear, my honest friend? No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you. Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech: wilt thou do this?
She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her. Do, good my friend. You have not been a-bed, then? Why, no; the day had broke Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, To send in to your wife: my suit to her Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona Procure me some access.
I'll send her to you presently; And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor Out of the way, that your converse and business May be more free. I humbly thank you for't. Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry For your displeasure; but all will sure be well. The general and his wife are talking of it; And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies, That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus, And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you And needs no other suitor but his likings To take the safest occasion by the front To bring you in again.
Yet, I beseech you, If you think fit, or that it may be done, Give me advantage of some brief discourse With Desdemona alone. Pray you, come in; I will bestow you where you shall have time To speak your bosom freely.
I am much bound to you. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot; And by him do my duties to the senate: That done, I will be walking on the works; Repair there to me. Well, my good lord, I'll do't. This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't?
We'll wait upon your lordship. Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf. Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband, As if the case were his.
O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio, But I will have my lord and you again As friendly as you were. Bounteous madam, Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, He's never any thing but your true servant. I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord: You have known him long; and be you well assured He shall in strangeness stand no further off Than in a polite distance.
Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstance, That, I being absent and my place supplied, My general will forget my love and service. Do not doubt that; before Emilia here I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it To the last article: my lord shall never rest; I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience; His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; I'll intermingle every thing he does With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio; For thy solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away.
Madam, here comes my lord. Madam, I'll take my leave. Why, stay, and hear me speak. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease, Unfit for mine own purposes. Well, do your discretion. I like not that. What dost thou say? Nothing, my lord: or if—I know not what. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it, That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing you coming. I do believe 'twas he. How now, my lord! I have been talking with a suitor here, A man that languishes in your displeasure.
Who is't you mean? Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, His present reconciliation take; For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgment in an honest face: I prithee, call him back.
Went he hence now? Ay, sooth; so humbled That he hath left part of his grief with me, To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time. But shall't be shortly? The sooner, sweet, for you. Shall't be to-night at supper? No, not to-night.
To-morrow dinner, then? I shall not dine at home; I meet the captains at the citadel. Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn; On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn: I prithee, name the time, but let it not Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason— Save that, they say, the wars must make examples Out of their best—is not almost a fault To incur a private cheque.
When shall he come? Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul, What you would ask me, that I should deny, Or stand so mammering on. Michael Cassio, That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time, When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do To bring him in!
Trust me, I could do much,— Othello. Prithee, no more: let him come when he will; I will deny thee nothing. Why, this is not a boon; 'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit To your own person: nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise and difficult weight And fearful to be granted.
I will deny thee nothing: Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself. Shall I deny you? Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight. Emilia, come.
Be as your fancies teach you; Whate'er you be, I am obedient. Excellent wretch!
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