Good night to every one.

*

And noble Signior,

if virtue no belighted beauty lack,

Your fon in-law is far more fair than black.

Sen. Adieu, brave Moor, ufe Defdemona well.
Bra. Look to her, Moor, if thou haft eyes to fee;
She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.

[Exit Duke with Senators...
Honeft lago,

Oth. My life upon her faith.
My Desdemona muft I leave to thee:
I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her;
And bring her after in the best advantage.
Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matter and direction

To speak with thee. We must obey the time. [Exeunt

SCENE X.

Rad. Iago-

Manent Rodorigo and Iago.

Iago, What fayeft thou, noble heart?
Rod. What will I do, thinkelt thou?
Lago. Why, go to bed and fleep.

Rad. I will incontinently drown myself.

Jago. Well, if thou doft, I fhall never love thee after.. Why, thou filly Gentleman!

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

Tago. O villanous! I have look'd upon the world for four times feven years, and fince I could diftinguith be. twixt a benefit and an injury, I never foun! man that knew how to love himfelt. Ere I would fay, I would drown myself for the love of a Guiney-hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.

or thus.

Rod. What ihould I do? I confefs it is my fha ne to be fo fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it. Iago Virtue? a fig: 'tis in ourfelves that we are thus Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners. So that if we will plant nettles, or fow lettuce; fet hyffop, and weed up thyme; supply it with one gender of herbs, or diftract it with many; either have it fteril with idleness, or manurel with induftry; why, the power and corrigible authority of this . *ie. white and fair.

lies in our will. If the balance of our lives had not one fcale of reafon to poife another of fenfuality, the blood and bafenefs of our natures would conduct us to moft prepofterous conclufions. But we have reafon to cool our raging motions, our carnal ftings, our unbitted lufts; whereof I take this, that you call love, to be a flip or cyon.

Rod. It cannot be.

Iago. It is merely a luft of the blood, and a permiffion of the will. Come, be a man: drown thyfelf? drown cats and blind puppies. I have profefs'd me thy friend, and I confefs me knit to thy deferving with cables of perdurable toughness. I could never better ftead thee than now. Put money in thy purfe; follow thou these wars; diffeat * thy favour with an ufurped beard; I fay, put money in thy purfe. It cannot be, that Desdemona fhould long continue her love to the Moor-put money in thy purfe-nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement in her, and thou fhalt fee an answerable fequeftration--put but money in thy purie Thefe Moors are changeable in their wills; fill thy purfe with money. The food that to him now is as luscious as loches, fhall fhortly be as bitter as a coloquintida, When she is fated with his body, the will find the errors of her choice,- -She must have change, the muft: therefore put money in thy purfe, -If thou wilt needs damn thyfelf, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canft. If fanctimony and a frail vow, betwixt an errant Barbarian and a fuper-fubtle Venetian, be not too hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou flalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of drowning thy. felf! it is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be hang'd in compaffing thy joy, than to be drown'd and go without her.

Rod. Wilt thou be faft to my hopes if I depend on the flue?

lago. Thou art fure of me.-Go, make money,I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor. My caufe is hearted; thine hath no lefs reafon. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge a *i, e turn it out of its feat, change it for another.

gainst him. If thou canft cuckold him, thou doft thy. elf a pleasure, and me a port. There are many cvents in the womb of time, which will be delivered, 1 raverfe, go, provide thy money. We will have more:

of this to-morrow. Adieu.

Rod. Where fhall we meet i' th' morning?

Iago. At my lodging.

Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.

Iago. Go to, farewel. Do you hear, Rodorigo?
Red. What fay you?

lago. No more of drowning, do you hear?

Rod. I am chang'd; I'll go fell all my land. [Exit

SCENE

XI, Manet lago.

Iago. Go to, farewel, put money enough in your purfe.

Thus do I ever make my fool my purfe;

For I mine own gain'd knowledge fhould profane,
If I fhould time expend with fuch a fnipe,
But for my fport and profit. I hate the Moor,
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my fheets
He has done my office. I know not if't be true
But I, for mere fufpicion in that kind,

Will do, as it for furety: He holds me well
The better fhall my purpose work on him;
Caffio's a proper man let me fee now;
To get his place, and to plune up my will,
A double knavery-How? how? -let's fee
After fome time, t'. abuse Othello's ear,
That he is too familiar with his wife-
He hath a perfon, and a fmooth dispose,
To be fufpected; fram'd to make women falfe.
The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honeft that but feem to be fo; -
And will as tenderly be led by th' nofe,

As affes are:

I have't-it is ingendred-hell and night

Muft bring this monftrous birth to the world's light. [Exitar

S32

ACT

II.

SCENE I.

The capital of Cyprus.,

Enter Montano Governor of Cyprus, and twi Gentlemen.

Mont. WGent. Nothing at all, it is a high

Hat from the Cape can you difcern at lea?

wrought food;

I cannot 'twixt the heavens and the main

Delery a fail.

Mont. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; A fuller blaft ne'er fhook our battlements;

If it hath ruffian'd fo upon the fea,

What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
Can hold the mortife? what fhall we hear of this?

2 Gent. A fegregation of the Turkish fleet;

For do but stand upon the foaming fhore,
The chiding billows feem to pelt the clouds;

The wind-thak'd furge, with high and monftrous main,
Seems to caft water on the burning Bear,
And quench the guards of th' ever fired pole;

never did like moleftation view

On the inchafed flood.

Mont. If that the Turkish fleet

Be not infhelter'd and embay'd, they're drown'd;
It is impoffible to bear it out.

3

SCENE II.

Enter a third Gentleman.

Gent. News, Lords, our wars are done :

The defperate tempeft hath so bang'd the Turks,

That their defignment halts. A noble ihip of Venice Hath feen a grievous wreck and sufferance

On most part of their fleet.

Mont. How! is this true?

3 Gent. The fhip is here put in,

A Veroneffa; Michael Caffio,

Lieutenant of the warlike Moor Othello,

Is come on fhore; the Moor himself's at fea,

And is in full commiffion here for Cyprus,

Mont. I'm glad on't; 'tis a worthy Governor..

3 Gent. But this fame Caffio, though he fpeak of

comfort,

Touching the Turkifh lofs, yet he looks fadly,
And prays the Moor be fafe; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempeft.

Mont. Pray heav'ns he be :

For I have ferv'd him, and the man commands.
Like a full foldier. Let's to the fea-fide,

As well to fee the veffel that's come in,

As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and th' aerial blue
An indiftinct regard.

Gent Come, let's do fo;.

For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.

SCENE

III.

Enter Caffio..

Caf. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike ifle,.
That fo approve the Moor: oh, let the heav'ns
Give him defence against the elements,

For I have loft him on a dangerous fea.
Mont. Is he well shipp'd?

Caf. His bark is ftoutly timber'd, and his pilot
Of very expert and approv'd allowance;

Therefore my hopes, not furfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.

[Within.] A fail, a fail, a fail!

Caf. What noise?

Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o' th' fea

Stand ranks of people, and they cry, A fail.

Caf. My hopes do fhape him for the Governor.

Gent. They do difcharge their fhot of courtely:

Our friends, at least.

Caf I pray you, Sir, go forth..

And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd,

Gent. I fhall.

[Exit.

Mont. But, good Lieutenant, is your General wiv'd?

Caf. Molt fortunately, he hath atchiev'd a maid

That paragons description and wild fame :
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
And in terreftrial velture of creation

Does bear all excellency