SCENE I.
The capital of Cyprus.
A platform.
Enter Montano, and two Gentlemen.
Mont.
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.
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 them7 note
,
Can hold the mortice? What shall we hear of this?
2 Gent.
A segregation of the Turkish fleet:
For do but stand upon the foaming shore8 note
,
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,
-- 478 --
9 note
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
I never did like molestation view
On the enchafed flood.
Mont.
If that the Turkish fleet
Be not inshelter'd, and embay'd, they are drown'd;
It is impossible they bear it out.
Enter a third Gentleman.
3 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.
Mont.
How! is this true?
3. Gent.
1 note
The ship is here put in,
A Veronesè: Michael Cassio,
-- 479 --
Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello,
Is come on shore: the Moor himself's at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
Mont.
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.
Mont.
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 to throw out our eyes for brave Othello;
Even 'till we make the main2 note, and the aerial blue,
-- 480 --
An indistinct regard.
Gent.
Come, let's do so;
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
Enter Cassio.
Cas.
Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle3 note,
That so approve the Moor; O, let the heavens
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea!
Mont.
Is he well shipp'd?
Cas.
4 note
His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot
-- 481 --
5 note
Of very expert and approv'd allowance;9Q1233
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.
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
And, in the essential vesture of creation,
-- 482 --
Does bear all excellency.—How now? who has put in?
-- 483 --
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
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.
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 arms8 note
,
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits,
-- 484 --
And bring all Cyprus9 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 news1 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 much2 note
;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep:
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
-- 485 --
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
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.
Des.
O, fie upon thee, slanderer4 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 notecritical.
-- 486 --
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 fit6 note.
Des.
Worse and worse.
Æmil.
How, if fair and foolish?
Iago.
7 note
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?
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
-- 487 --
best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving
woman indeed?9Q1235 8 note
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;
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 tail9 note;
-- 488 --
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following, and not look behind1 note;
She was a wight,—if ever such wight were,—
Des.
To do what?
Iago.
2 noteTo 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 most3 note
profane and 4 note
liberal counsellor?
-- 489 --
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
I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.
You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as
these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been
better you had not kiss'd your three fingers so oft,
which now again you are most apt to play the sir in.
Very good; 6 note
well kiss'd! an excellent courtesy!
'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips?
'would, they were clyster-pipes for your sake!—
Trumpet.
The Moor,—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 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
-- 490 --
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 her7 note
.
That e'er our hearts shall make!
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 noteNews, 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 noteI prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comforts,—I pr'ythee, good Iago,
-- 491 --
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou 1 notethe 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 guard2 note
:
—First, I must tell thee this,—Desdemona is directly
in love with him.
Rod.
With him! why, 'tis not possible.
Iago.
3 noteLay 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 prating4 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 noteWhen the blood is made dull
with the act of sport, there should be,—again to inflame
-- 492 --
it6 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 notegreen 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 notecondition.
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
-- 493 --
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
prologue9 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 notetainting his
discipline; or from what other course2 note you please,
which the time shall more favourably minister.
Rod.
Well.
Iago.
Sir, he is rash, and very 3 notesudden 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
whose qualification
shall come into no true taste again, but by
-- 494 --
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.
Rod.
I will do this, if you can bring it to any
opportunity.
Iago.
I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the
citadel: I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewel.
Rod.
Adieu.
[Exit.
Iago.
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, 5 notelike a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
And nothing can or shall content my soul,
'Till I am even with him6 note
, wife for wife;
Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
-- 495 --
That judgment cannot cure. 7 note
Which thing to do,—
If this poor trash of Venice, 8 note
note trash for overtopping.—
To trash for overtopping; i. e. “What suitors to check for their
too great forwardness.” Here another phrase of the field is joined
with to trash. To overtop is when a hound gives his tongue above
the rest, too loudly or too readily; for which he ought to be trash'd
or rated. Topper, in the good sense of the word, is a common
name for a hound. Shakespeare is fond of allusions to hunting,
and appears to be well acquainted with its language. This explication
of trash illustrates a passage in the Bonduca of Beaumont and
Fletcher, which has been hitherto misunderstood and misrepresented;
and where the use of the word equally reflects light on our
author. Act I. Sc. I. vol. vi. p. 274.
Car.
I fled too,
But not so fast: your jewel had been lost then,
Young Hengo there; he trash'd me.
Here Bonduca and Nennius are accusing Caratach of running away
from the Romans. Caratach answers, “It is very true, Nennius,
that I fled from the Romans.—But recollect, I did not run so fast as
you pretend: I soon stood still to defend your favourite youth Hengo:
—He stopped my flight, and I saved his life.” In this passage,
where trash properly signifies check, the commentators substitute
trace: a correction, which entirely destroys the force of the context,
and the spirit of the reply.
Warton.
To trash likewise signifies to follow. So, in the Puritan Widow,
1605: “A guarded lackey to run before it, and py'd liveries to
come trashing after it.” The repetition of the word trash is much
in Shakespeare's manner, though in his worst. In a subsequent
scene, Iago calls Bianca—trash.
Steevens.
whom I trash
-- 496 --
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
9 noteI'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip;
-- 497 --
Abuse him to the Moor 1 note
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. 'Tis here, but yet confus'd;
2 noteKnavery's plain face is never seen, 'till us'd.
[Exit.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
