Their mortal natures, letting fafe go by
The divine Defdemona.

Mont. What is the?

Caf. She that I fpake of, our great Captain's Captain, Left in the conduct of the bold lago;

Whofe footing here anticipates our thoughts,

A fe'nnight's fpeed. Great Jove, Othello guard!
And fwell his fail with thine own powerful breath,
That he may blefs this bay with his tall fhip,
Make love's quick pants in Defdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extinguifh'd fpirits,
And bring all Cyprus comfort

Enter Desdemona, lago, Redorigo, and Æmilia.

O behold!

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 Caffio,
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 loft you company?
Caf. The great contention of the fea and skies
Parted our fellowship. But, hark, a fail!
Within.] A fail, a fail!

Gent. They give this greeting to the Citadel:
This likewife is a friend.

Caf. See for the news:

Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome, mistress.

Let it not gall your patience, good lago,

That I extend my manners.

[To Æmilia.

"Tis my breeding,

That gives me this bold fhew of courtefie.

Jago. Sir, would fhe give you fo much of her lips, As of her tongue fhe oft bestows on me,

You'd have enough.

Def. Alas! fhe has no speech.

Iago. In faith, too much;

I find it ftill, when I have lift to fleep;
Marry, before your ladyfhip, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.

Emil. You have little cause to say so.

Iago. Come on, come on; you're pictures out of doors,

Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your
beds!

Def. O, fie upon thee, flanderer!

Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk; You rife to play, and go to bed to work. Emil. You fhall not write my praise.

Iago. No, let me not.

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

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

For I am nothing, if not critical.

Def. Come, one affay. There's one gone to the harbour

Iago. Ay, Madam.

Def. I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by feeming otherwife; Come, how would't thou praise me?

Iago. I am about it; but, indeed, my invention comes from my pate, as birdlime does from freeze, it plucks out brains and all. But my mufe labours, and thus fhe is delivered.

If he be fair and wife, fairness and wit,

The one's for ufe, the other ufeth it.

Def. Well prais'd; how if fhe be black and witty?

Iago. If he be black, and thereto have a wit,

She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.

Def. Worfe and worse.

Emil. How, if fair and foolish?

Iago. She never yet was foolish, that was fair;
For even her fally helpt her to an heir.

Def. Thefe are old fond paradoxes, to make fools laugh i'th' alehouse. What miferable praise haft thou for her that's foul and foolish?

Iago. There's none fo foul and foolish thereunto,

But does foul pranks, which fair and wife ones do. Def. Oh heavy ignorance! thou praifeft the worft beft. But what praise couldft thou bestow on a deferving woman indeed? (14) one, that in the authority of her merit, did juftly put down the vouch of very malice it felf?

Iago. She that was ever fair, and never proud,

Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud;
Never lackt gold, and yet never went gay,
Fled from her wish, and yet faid, now I may;
She that when anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bad her wrong fay, and her displeasure fly;
She that in wisdom never was fo frail
To change the cod's head for the falmon's tail;
She that could think, and ne'er difclofe her mind,
See fuitors following, and not look behind;

She was a wight, (if ever such wight were)---

Def. To do what?

Jago. To fuckle fools, and chronicle fmall beer.
Def. Oh moft lame and impotent conclufion! do not

(14) One, that in the Authority of her Merit, did justly put on the Vouch of very Malice it felf.] Tho' all the printed Copies agree in this Reading, I cannot help fufpecting it. If the Text should be genuine, I confess, it is above my Understanding. In what Senfe can Merit be faid to put on the Vouch of Malice? I fhould rather think, Merit was fo fafe in it self, as to repel and put off all that Malice and Envy could advance and affirm to its Prejudice. I have ventur'd to reform the Text to this Conftruction, by a very flight Change that makes it intelligible.

learn

learn of him, Emilia, tho' he be thy husband. (15) How fay you, Caffio, is he not a moft profane and liberal cenfurer ?

Caf. He fpeaks home, Madam; you may relifh him more in the foldier, than in the scholar.

Iago. [Afide.] He takes her by the palm; ay, well faid whifper With as little a web as this, will I enfnare as great a fly as Caffio. Ay, fmile upon her, do -I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You fay true, 'tis fo, indeed. If fuch tricks as these ftrip you out of your lieutenancy, it had been better you had not kifs'd your three fingers fo oft, which now again you are most apt to play the Sir in. Very good well kifs'd, and excellent courtefie. 'tis fo, indeed Yet again your fingers to your lips? 'would, they were clifter-pipes for your fake.

I know his trumpet.

The Moor,
Caf. 'Tis truly fo.

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

Caf. Lo, where he comes!

Enter Othello and Attendants.

Oth. Oh my fair warrior!

Def. My dear Othello!

[Trumpet.

Oth. It gives me wonder, great as my content, To fee you here before me. O my foul's joy!

If after every tempeft come fuch calms,

May the winds blow 'till they have waken'd death:
And let the labouring bark climb hills of feas
Olympus high; and duck again as low

As hell's from heav'n! If I were now to die,
'Twere now to be moft happy; for, I fear,
My foul hath her content fo absolute,

(15) How Say you, Caffio? Is he not a most profane and libe ral Counsellor?]. But in what Refpe&t was Iago a Counsellor ? He caps Sentences, indeed; but they are not by way of Advice, but Defcription: what he fays, is, Reflexions on Charac ter and Conduct in Life. For this Reason, I am very ap to think, our Author wrote Cenfurer.

That

That not another comfort like to this

Succeeds in unknown fate.

Def. The heav'ns forbid,

But that our loves and comforts should encrease,
Ev'n as our days do grow!

Oth. Amen to that, fweet Powers!

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

And this, and this, the greateft difcords be [Kiffing her.
That e'er our hearts fhall make!

Iago. Oh, you are well-tun'd now; but I'll let down the pegs that make this mufick, as honeft as I am. [Afide.

Oth. Come, let's to the caftle.

Now, friends, our wars are done; the Turks are drown'd. How do our old acquaintance of this isle?

Honey, you fhall be well defir'd in Cyprus,'

I've found great love amongst them. Oh my Sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote

In mine own comfort. Pr'ythee, good Iago,
Go to the bay, and difembark my coffers:

Bring thou the maiter to the citadel,

He is a good one, and his worthiness

Does challenge much refpect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.

[Exeunt Othello and Defdemonas

Manent Iago and Rodorigo.

Iago. Do you meet me prefently at the harbour. Come thither, if thou be'st valiant; (as, they fay, base men, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures, more than is native to them) lift me; 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 poffible?

Iago. Lay thy fingers thus; and let thy foul be inftructed. Mark me with what violence the firft lov'd the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical lies. And will fhe love him ftill for prating? let not

thy