Within.]
A sail, a sail, a sail!

Cas.
What noise?

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.

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.

Gent.
I shall. [Exit.

Mont.
But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd?

Cas.
Most fortunately: he hath atchiev'd a maid
That paragons description, and wild fame;
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
^{6 note}

Does bear all excellency.—How now? who has put in?

Re-enter Gentleman.

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,—
^{7 note}

Mont.
What is she?

Cas.
She that I spake of, our great captain's captain,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago;
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts,
A se'nnight's speed.—Great Jove, Othello guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath;
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms^{8 note}
,
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits,

And bring all Cyprus^{9 note} comfort!—O, behold, Enter Desdemona, Iago, Roderigo, and Æmilia.
The riches of the ship is come on shore!—
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees:—
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.

Within.]
A sail, a sail! [Guns heard.

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

Cas.
See for the news^{1 note}.— [An Attendant goes out.
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. [Kisses her.

Iago.
Sir, would she give you so much of her lips,
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'd have enough.

Des.
Alas, she has no speech.

Iago.
In faith, too much^{2 note}

;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep:
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,

She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.

Æmil.
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,
^{3 note}

Des.
O, fie upon thee, slanderer^{4 note}!

Iago.
Nay, it is true, or else I am Turk;
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.

Æmil.
You shall not write my praise.

Iago.
No, let me not.

Des.
What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?

Iago.
O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
For I am nothing, if not ^{5 note}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 wouldst 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^{6 note}.

Des.
Worse and worse.

Æmil.
How, if fair and foolish?

Iago.
  ^{7 note}

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?

Iago.
  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 couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed?9Q1235 ^{8 note}

Iago.
  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^{9 note};

  She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
  See suitors following, and not look behind^{1 note};
  She was a wight,—if ever such wight were,—

Des.

To do what?

Iago.
  ^{2 note}To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.

Des.

O most lame and impotent conclusion!—Do not learn of him, Æmilia, though he be thy husband. —How say you, Cassio? is he not a most^{3 note} profane and ^{4 note}

Cas.

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

Iago. [Aside.]

He takes her by the palm: Ay, well said, whisper: with as little a web as this, will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do; ^{5 note}

Cas.

'Tis truly so.

Des.

Let's meet him, and receive him.

Cas.

Lo, where he comes!

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 calmness, 9Q1236
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 9Q1237; 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 encrease,
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:
And this, and this, the greatest discords be [Kissing her^{7 note}

Iago.
O, you are well tun'd now!
But I'll let down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am. [Aside.

Oth.
Come, let us to the castle.—
^{8 note}News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd.
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,
^{9 note}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 ^{1 note}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. The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of guard^{2 note}

Rod.

With him! why, 'tis not possible.

Iago.

^{3 note}Lay thy finger—thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me with what violence she first lov'd the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her santastical lies: And will she love him still for prating^{4 note}? let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed; and what delight shall she have to look on the devil? ^{5 note}When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be,—again to inflame

it^{6 note}, and to give satiety a fresh appetite,— loveliness in favour; sympathy in years, manners, and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in: Now, for want of these requir'd conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abus'd, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct her in it, and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted, (as it is a most pregnant and unforc'd position) who stands so eminently in the degree of this fortune, as Cassio does? a knave very voluble; no farther conscionable, than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why, none; why, none: A slippery and subtle knave; a finder out of occasions; that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself: A devilish knave! besides, the knave is handsome, young; and hath all those requisites in him, that folly and ^{7 note}green minds look after: A pestilent complete knave; and the woman hath found him already.

Rod.

I cannot believe that in her; she is full of most bless'd ^{8 note}condition.

Iago.

Bless'd figs' end! the wine she drinks is made of grapes: if she had been bless'd, she would never have lov'd the Moor: Bless'd pudding! Didst

thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst not mark that?

Rod.

Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.

Iago.

Lechery, by this hand! an index, and obscure prologue^{9 note}



to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their lips, that their breaths embrac'd together. Villainous thoughts, Roderigo! when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion: Pish!—But, sir, be you rul'd by me: I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night; for the command, I'll lay't upon you: Cassio knows you not;—I'll not be far from you: Do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or ^{1 note}tainting his discipline; or from what other course^{2 note} you please, which the time shall more favourably minister.

Rod.

Well.

Iago.

Sir, he is rash, and very ^{3 note}sudden in choler; and, haply, with his truncheon may strike at you: Provoke him, that he may: for, even out of that, will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; ^{4 note}

Mont.
Good faith, a little one; not past a pint,
As I am a soldier.

Iago.
Some wine, ho! [Iago sings.

And let me the canakin clink, clink;
And let me the canakin clink:
  A soldier's a man;
  A life's but a span^{4 note}
;
Why then, let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys!

Cas.

'Fore heaven, an excellent song.

Iago.

I learn'd it in England, where (indeed) they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander,—Drink, ho! —are nothing to your English.

Cas.

Is your Englishman ^{5 note}





so exquisite in his drinking?

Iago.

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 fill'd.

Cas.

To the health of our general.

Mon.

I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice.

Iago.
O sweet England!

^{6 note}

Cas.

Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

Iago.

Will you hear it again?

Cas.

No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place, that does those things.—Well,—Heaven's above all;9Q1238 and there be souls that must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

Iago.

It's true, good lieutenant.

Cas.

For mine own part,—no offence to the general, nor any man of quality,—I hope to be saved.

Iago.

And so I do too, lieutenant.

Cas.

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.—Forgive us our sins!—Gentlemen, let's look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk; this is my ancient;—this is my right hand, and this is my left

hand:—I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and I speak well enough.

All.

Excellent well.

Cas.

Why, very well then: you must not think then that I am drunk.

Mont.
To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch.

Iago.
You see this fellow, that is gone before;—
He is a soldier, fit to stand by Cæsar
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.
I fear, the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.

Mont.
But is he often thus?

Iago.
'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
^{9 note}

Mont.
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? Enter Roderigo.

Iago.
How now, Roderigo?
I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. [Exit Rod.

Mont.
And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a place, as his own second,
With one of an ^{1 note}ingraft infirmity:
It were an honest action, to say so
Unto the Moor.

Iago.
Not I, for this fair island:
I do love Cassio well; and would do much
To cure him of this evil. But, hark! what noise?

[Cry within,—
Help! help! Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo.

Cas.
You rogue! you rascal!

Mont.
What's the matter, lieutenant?

Cas.
A knave!—teach me my duty!
I'll beat the knave ^{2 note}into a twiggen bottle.

Rod.
Beat me!

Cas.
Dost thou prate, rogue?

Mont.
Nay, good lieutenant; [Staying him.
I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

Cas.
Let me go, sir,
Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

Mont.
Come, come, you're drunk.

Cas.
Drunk? [They fight.

Iago.
Away, I say! go out, and cry—a mutiny. [Aside to Rod. [Exit Roderigo.

Nay, good lieutenant,—alas, gentlemen,—
Help, ho!—Lieutenant,—sir,—Montano,—sir;—
Help, masters! Here's a goodly watch, indeed!—
Who's that that rings the bell?—Diablo^{3 note}, ho! [Bell rings.
The town will rise: Fie, fie, lieutenant! hold;
You will be sham'd for ever. Enter Othello, and Attendants.

Oth.
What is the matter here?

Mont.
I bleed still, ^{4 note}

Oth.
Hold, for your lives.

Iago.
Hold, hold, lieutenant,—sir,—Montano,—gentlemen,—
Have you forgot ^{5 note}
all sense of place and duty?
Hold, hold! the general speaks to you; hold, for shame!

Oth.
Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
Are we turn'd Turks; and to ourselves do that,
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
He that stirs next to carve forth his own rage,
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.—

Silence that dreadful bell, ^{6 note}
it frights the isle
From her propriety.—What is the matter, masters?—
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.

Iago.
I do not know;—friends all but now, even now,
^{7 note}In quarter and in terms like bride and groom
Divesting 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
These legs, that brought me to a part of it!

Oth.
How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot^{8 note}?

Cas.
I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.

Oth.
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,
^{9 note}That you unlace your reputation thus,
And ^{1 note}spend your rich opinion, for the name
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.

Mon.
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 ^{2 note}self-charity be sometime a vice;
And to defend ourselves it be a sin,
When violence assails us.

Oth.
Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
^{3 note}