That gives them credit.

1 Sen.

Indeed, they are disproportion'd; My letters say, a hundred and seven gallies.

Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty. 2 Sen. 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!
Enter an Officer with a Sailor.

Off. A messenger from the gallies,
Duke.

Now? the business?

Sai. 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? 1 Sen.

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 unskilful,
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.
Off. Here is more news.

She is abus'd, 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 beguil'd 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.

Bra.
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.

Bra. Nothing, but this is so.

Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approv'd 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 bless'd with the set phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us'd 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 tience,

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 charg'd withal,)
I won his daughter with.

Bra.
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, every thing,-
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on?
It is a 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 conjur'd 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.
1 Sen. 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?

Oth.
I do beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
And let her speak of me before her father:

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,

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.

Rod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment; and then have we a prescription to die, when death v our physician.

Iago. O villanous! I have looked upon the work 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 Guineahen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.

Rod. What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond; but it is not in virtue to amend it Iago. Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves, that we arr thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens; to the which, our wills are gardeners: so that if we will

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 my distinet 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 seel 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 to-night, Des To-night, my lord?

If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

1 Sen. Adieu, brave Moor! use Desdemona well. Bra. Look to her, Moor; have a quick eye to see; She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.

[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, &c.
Oth. My life upon her faith.-Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee;
I pry hee, let thy wife attend on her;

And bring them after in the best advantage.-
Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour
O love, of worldly matters and direction,
To spend with thee: We must obey the time.
[Excunt Othello and Desdemona.

Rod. Iago.

Jago. What say'st thou, noble heart?

thyme; supply it with one gender of herbs, or distratt it with many; either to have it steril with dnes, or manured with industry; why, the power and or rigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the bal ance of our lives had not one scale of reason to pois another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of on natures would conduct us to most preposterou EN clusions: But we have reason to cool our raging ne tions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; wheref I take this, that you call-love, to be a sect, or se Rod. It cannot be.

Iago. It is merely a lust of the blood, and a peri gion of the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself drown cats, and blind puppies. I have professed ne 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 pare follow these wars; defeat thy favour with an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot b 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 seem answerable sequestration ;~put but money in y purse. These Moors are changeable in their will – fill thy purse with money: the food that to him al is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as le ter as coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will find the er ror of her choice.-She must have change, she must : therefore put money in thy purse.-If thou wilt need damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than d ing. Make all the money thou canst: If sanctimay and a frail vow, betwixt an erring Barbarian and a s persubtle Venetian, be not too hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefor 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 out her.

with

Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue?

Ingo. Thou art sure of me ;-Go, make money:-/ have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and a gain, I hate the Moor: My cause is hearted; thin hath no less reason: Let us be conjunctive in our re venge against him: if thou canst cuckold him, than dost 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, will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu.

891

purse.

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; 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.

SCENE I-A seaport Town in Cyprus. A Platform.
Enter Montano and two Gentlemen.
Montano.

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,
Desery a sail.

Mon. Methinks, the wind bath spoke aloud at land;
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:
If it hath ruffiau'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,
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole.
I never did like molestation view

On th' enchafed flood.

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 aerial blue,
An indistinct regard.

3 Gent.

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

Of more arrivance.

Enter Cassio.

Cas. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle That so approve the Moor; O, let the heavens Give him defence against the elements,

For I have lost him on a dangerous sea!
Mon. Is he well shipp'd?

Cas. 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 sail, a sail, a sail!

Enter another Gentleman.

Cas. What noise?

4 Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o'the sea Stand ranks of people, and they cry-a sail.

Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor.

2 Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy ; Our friends, at least. [Guns heard. 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 lago, 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 ne divine Desdemona.

Mon.

What is she?

Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven, Before, behind thee, and on every hand, Enwheel thee round!

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. 2 Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel; This likewise is a friend.

Emil.

You have little cause to say so. Iago. Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,

Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,

Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.

Des. O, fye upon thee, slanderer!

Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk;

You rise to play, and go to hed to work.

Emil. You shall not write my praise.
Iago.

No, let me not.

Des. What would'st thou write of me, if thou should'st praise me?

Iago. O gentle lady, do not put me to't;

For I am nothing, if not critical.

Des. Come on, assay :-There's one gone to the harbour?

Iago. Ay, madam.

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

Iago. I am about it; but, indeed, my invention Comes from my pate, as bird-lime does from frize, It plucks out brains and all: But my muse labours, And thus she is deliver'd.

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.

Emil. How, if fair and foolish?

lago, She never yet was foolish that was fair; For even her folly help'd her to an heir.

Des. These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools laugh i'the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's foul and foolish?

Jago. There's none so foul, and foolish thereunto,

But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.

Des. O heavy ignorance!-thou praisest the worst

best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a sie serving woman indeed? one, that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vonch of very malice itself?

lago. She that was ever fair, and never proud;
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud;
Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay;
Fled from her wish, and yet said.—now I may ;
She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly;
She that in wisdom never was so frail,

To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
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,—
Des. To do what?

Iage. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer. Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion !-Dụ not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husbandHow say you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal counsellor ?

Cas. He speaks home, madam; you may relish hin more in the soldier, than in the scholar.

Ingo. [Aside.] He takes her by the palm: Ay, well said, whisper with as little a web as this, will I e snare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon het, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You sy true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as these strip y out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are most apt to play the sirin. Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Int again your fingers to your lips? would they wer elyster-pipes for your sake !-[Trumpet.] The Mo I know his trumpet.

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 calins,
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 heil'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!