It was my hint to speak, such was the process;
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads

Which, as a grise 3, or step, may help these lovers Into your favour.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,

Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,
She'd 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 sometning heard,
But not intentively 2: 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

Bra.

Then 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,

2 Intention and attention were once synonymous.

To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,

Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserv'd 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.
Bra. 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 bruis'd 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 4 the gloss of your new fortunes
with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.

Oth. 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.

Be't at her father's.

Bra.

Oth. Nor I. Des.

If you please,

I'll not have it so.

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 a gracious ear; And let me find a charter in your voice, To assist my simpleness.

Duke. What would you, Desdemona?

Des. 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 honours, 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,
I shall a heavy interim support

By his dear absence: Let me go with himn.
Oth. Your voices, lords: - 'beseech you, let her
will

3 Grise from degrees. 5 Acknowledge.

4 Obscure. 6 Allowance.

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 seel 9 with wanton dulness
My speculative and active 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 it; you must hence tonight,

Iago. What say'st thou, noble heart? Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou? Iago. Why, go to bed, and sleep. Rod. I will incontinently 3 drown myself. Iago. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee after it. Why, thou silly gentleman!

Rod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a 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 between a benefit and an injury, I never found a 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.

Rod. What should I do? I confess it is my

shame to be so found; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.

Iago. Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves, that we are thus, or thus. We have reason to cool our raging passions; whereof I take this, that you call --love, to be one.

Rod. It cannot be.

Iago. 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 these wars; defeat thy favour 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: drowning thyself is clean out of the way seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy, than to be drowned and go without it.

Rod. 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 re-tell 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: go; provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu. Rod. Where shall we meet i' the morning? Iago. At my lodging.

Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.

Iago. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?
Rod. What say you?

Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear?
Rod. I am changed. I'll sell all my land.
Iago. Go to; farewell; put money enough in
your purse.
[Exit RODERIGO.
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 in my bed
He has done me wrong, 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;
A double knavery, - How? how?-Let me 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; 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 ;
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. [Erit.

Change your countenance with a false beard.

SCENE I. ·

A Sea-port Town in Cyprus. A
Platform.

Enter MONTANO and two Gentlemen.

Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea?
1 Gent. Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought
flood;

I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main,
Descry a sail.

Mon. 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 stand upon the foaming shore,
The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds;
The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous
main,

Seems to cast water on the burning bear 6,
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
I never did like molestation view

On th' enchafed flood.

8 Gent. News, lords! our wars are done; The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks, That their designment halts: A noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance On most part of their fleet.

Mon.

How is this true? 3 Gent. The ship is here put in,

A Veronesé; Michael Cassio,
Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello,
Is come on shore: the Moor himself's at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

Mon. I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.
3 Gent. But this same Cassio,- though he speak
of comfort,

Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly, And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted With foul and violent tempest.

Mon. 'Pray heaven he be; For I have serv'd him, and the man commands Like a full soldier. Let's to the sea-side, ho! As well to see the vessel that's come in, As throw out our eyes for brave Othello; Even till we make the main, and the aërial blue, An indistinct regard.

3 Gent.

Come, let's do so; For every minute is expectancy

Of more arrivance.

Our friends, at least. Cas.

:

I pray you, sir, go forth, And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd. 2 Gent. I shall. [Exit. Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd? Cas. Most fortunately he hath achiev'd a maid That paragons description, and wild fame; One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in the essential vesture of creation, Does bear all excellency. - How now? who has put in?

Re-enter second Gentleman.

2 Gent. 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general. Cas. He has had most favourable and happy speed:

Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands,
Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.

Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio. What tidings can you tell me of my lord? Cas. He is not yet arriv'd; nor know I aught But that he's well, and will be shortly here. Des. O, but I fear; How lost you company? Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship: But, hark! a sail.

[Cry within, A sail, a sail! Then Guns heard. 7 Allow'd and approv'd expertness. * Deadly destructive

Cas.

See for the news. — [Erit Gentleman. Welcome,

:

Good ancient, you are welcome;

[To EMILIA.

mistress :Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, That I extend my manners; 'tis my my breeding That gives me this bold show of courtesy.

[Kissing her.

Cas. 'Tis truly so.

Des. Let's meet him, and receive him.

Cas. Lo, where he comes!

Enter OTHELLO, and Attendants.

Oth. O my fair warrior!
Des.

My dear Othello?
Oth. It gives me wonder great as my content,
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas,
Olympus-high; and duck again as low

As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
"Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.

Des.

The heavens forbid, But that our loves and comforts should increase, Even as our days do grow!

Oth.

Amen to that, sweet powers!

I cannot speak enough of this content,
It stops me here; it is too much of joy :

harbour?

Iago. Ay, madam.

Des. I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

Iago. I am about it; but, indeed, my invention Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frize; It plucks out brains and all: But now my muse. If she be fair and wise, - fairness, and wit, The one's for use, the other useth it.

Des. Well prais'd! How if she be black and witty?

Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit, She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.

Des. Worse and worse. These are old fond9 paradoxes, to make fools laugh i' the alehouse. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed? one, that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?

Iago. She that was ever fair, and never proud; Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud; She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh, Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly: She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind, See suitors following, and not look behind; She was a wight, if ever such wight were,—

How do our old acquaintance of this isle? —
Honey, you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus,
I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comforts. I pr'ythee, good Iago,
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou the master to the citadel;
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. - Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.

[Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and
Attendants.

Iago. Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come hither. If thou be'st valiant as (they say) base men, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them, list me.3 The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of guard: First, I must tell thee this- Desdemona is directly in love with him.

Rod. With him! why, 'tis not possible. Iago. Lay thy finger- thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical lies: And will she love him still for prating? let not thy discreet heart think it. eye must be fed; and what delight shall she have to look on the devil? There should be, — loveliness in favour; sympathy in years, manners, and