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again, I hate the Moor. My cause is hearted; thine
hath no lefs reason. Let us be conjunctive in our re-
venge against him. If thou canst cuckold him, thou
doit thyself a pleasure, and me a sport. There are
many events in the womb of time, which will be de-
livered. Traverse, go, provide thy money. We will
have more of this to-morrow, Adieu.
Rod. Where shall we meet i’ th' morning?
lago. At my lodging.
Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.
Iago. Go to, farewel. Do you lear, Rodorigo ?
Rod. What say you ?
Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear,
Rod. I am chang'd; I'll go fell all my land. [Exit.
lago. Go to, farewel, put money enough in your
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profanc,
If I should 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 ;
Casio's a proper man: let me see now;
To get his place, and to plume up my Will,
A double knavery-How? how? let's see-
After some time, t'abuse Othello's ear,
That he is too familiar with his wife
He hath a person, and a smooth dispose,
To be suspected ; fram'd to make women.false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so ;
H E L L 0. 365 And will as tenderly be led by th' nose, As alles are : I have't- it is ingendred – Hell and Spite Must bring this monsterous birth to the worlds light.
The Capital of Cypr U . Enter Montano Governor of Cyprus, and Gentlemen.
THAT from the cape can you discern at sea ?
i Gent. Nothing at all, it is a high wrought
I cannot 'twixt the heaven and the main
Descry a fail.
Mont. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at
land; A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements; If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea, What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, Can hold the mortise ? what shall we hear of this.?
2 Gent. A segregation of the Turkish fleet;
For do but itand upon the foaming shore,
The chiding billows seem to pelt the clouds;
The wind-Thak'd furge, with high and monstrous
Seems to call water on the burning Bear,
And quench the guards of th' ever-fired pole;
I never did' like moleflation view
On the enchafed flood.
Mont. If that the Turkish fleet
Be not inshelter'd and embay'd, they're drown'd;
It is impossible to bear it out.
S CE N E
Enter a third Gentleman.
TEWS, lords, our wars are done :
3 Gent. N The desperate tempeft hath so bang’d
That their designment halts. A noble fip of Venice
Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance
On most part of the fleet.
Mont. How! is this true ?
3 Gent. The ship is here put in,
A Veronesa ; Michael Casio,
Lieutenant of the warlike Moor Othello,
Is come on shore; the Moor himself's at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
Mont. I'm glad on't; 'tis a worthy Governor.
3 Gent. But this fame Casio, though he speak of
Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks fadly,
And prays the Moor be safe ; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.
Mont. Pray heav'ns he be:
For I have serv'd him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let's to the sea-side,
As well to see the vessel that's come in,
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and th' acriel blue
An indistinct regard.
Gent. Come, let's do so ;
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
Caf. TThat Yo approve the Moot: Oh, let
HANKS to the valiant of this warlike ille,
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous fea.
Mont. Is he well shipp'd ?
Caf. His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot Of very expert and approv'd allowance ; Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, Stand in bold cure.
Within) A fail, a fail, a sail!
Caf. What noise ?
Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o'th' sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry, a sail.
Caf. My hopes do shape him
for the Governor. Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy : Our friends, at least.
Caf. I pray you, Sir, go forth,
And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv d.
Gent. I shall.
Exit. Mont. But, good lieutenant, is your General wiv'd ?
Caf. Most fortunately, he hath atchiev'd a maid That paragons description and wild faine : One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in terrestrial vesture of creation, Do's bear all excellency
C Ε Ν
E N E IV:
Enter Gentleman. How now? who has put in ?
Gent. 'Tis one Iago, Ancient to the General.
Cas. H'as had most favourable and happy speed;
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds;
The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands,
(Traitors enfteep'd to clog the guiltless keel ;)
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting safe go by
The divine Desdemona.
Mont. What is she?
Caf. She that I spake of, our great Captain's Captain,
Η Ε Left in the conduct of the bold Iago; Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts, A se’nnight's fpeed. Great Jove, Othello guard ! And swell his fail with thine own powerful breath, That he may bless this bay with his tall fhip, Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, Give renew'd fire to our extinguish'd spirits, And bring all Cyprus comfort
SC E N E V.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Æmilia.
The riches of the ship is come on shore :
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heav'n,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand
Enwheel thee round.
Def. I thank you, valiant Cassio,
What tidings can you tell me of my lord ?
Caf. He is not yet arriv'd, nor know I aught
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.
Def. O, but I fear-how lost you company ?
Caf. The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship. But hark, a sail !
Within.) A fail, a lail!
Gent. They give this greeting to the Citadel :
This likewise is a friend.
Caf. See for the news :
Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome mistress,
[To Æmilia. Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, That I extend my manners. *Tis my breeding, That gives me this bold shew of courtesy.
lago. Sir, would the give you so much of her lips, As of her tongue
she oft bestows on me, You'd have enough. Def. Alas! she has no speech.