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 Iffue? Jago. Thou art fure of me: Go make Mony. 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 conjun&tive in our revenge against him. If thou canft cuckold him, thou doft thy felf a Pleasure, me a Sport. There are many Events in the womb of Time, which will be delivered. Traverfe, go, provide thy Mony. We will have more of this to morrow. Adieu. Rod. Where fhall we meet i'th' Morning? Rod. I'll be with thee betimes, Jago. Go to, farewel. Do you hear, Rodorigo? Jago. Thus do I ever make my Fool my Purfe; But for my Sport and Profit: I hate the Moor, To be fufpected; fram'd to make Women false. As Affes are: I have't it is engendred Hell and Night Kk 3 [Exit. ACT Mont. АС Т II. SCENE I WHA Flood; HAT from the Cape, can you discern at Sea? I cannot 'twixt the Heav'n and the Main, Mont. Methinks the Wind hath spoke aloud at Land, If it hath ruffian'd fo upon the Sea, What Ribs of Oak, when Mountains melt on them, And quench the Guards of th'ever fixed Pole ; On the enchafed Flood. Mont. If that the Turkish Fleet, Be not infhelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd; Enter a Gentleman. 3 Gent. News, Lads; our Wars are done : On most part of their Fleet. Mont. How is this true ? 3 Gent. The Ship is put in; a Veronesso, Michael Caffio, Lieutenant of the Warlike Moor, Othello, Is come on fhore; the Moor himself's at Sea, And is in full Commiffion here for Cyprus. Mont. I am glad on't; 'Tis a worthy Governor. 3 Gent. But this fame Caffio, though he fpeak of Comfort, Touching the Turkish 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 Gent. Come, let's do fo; For every Minute is expectancy Of more Arrivance. Enter Caffio. Caf. Thanks you, the valiant of this warlike Isle, For I have loft him on a dangerous Sea. Caf. His Bark is ftoutly timber'd, and his Pilot Within. A Sail, a Sail, a Sail. Gent. The Town is empty; on the brow o'th' Sea Caf. My hopes do fhape him for the Governor. Gent. They do discharge their fhot of courtefie, Our Friends at least. Caf. I pray you, Sir, go forth, And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived. Gent. I fhall. Mont. But,good Lieutenant, is your General wiv'd? Enter Gentleman. How now? who has put in ? Gent. Tis one Jago, Ancient to the General. Kk 4 [Exit. Ca Caf. H'as had moft favourable and happy speed; Mont. What is the ? Caf. She that I fpake of, our great Captain's Captain s Whose Footing here anticipates our thoughts, Enter Defdemona, Jago, Rodorigo, and Æmilia, - The Riches of the Ship is come on fhore : Def. I thank you, valiant Caffio, What Tidings can you tell me of my Lord?! Gent. They give this greeting to the Cittadel: Caf. See for the News: Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome, Mistress Let it not gall your Patience, good Jago, [To Emilia. That I extend my Manners. 'Tis my Breeding Fago. Jago. Sir, would the give you so much of her Lips, As of her Tongue fhe oft beftows of me, You would have enough. Def. Alas! he has no Speech. ; I find it ftill, when I have lift to fleep; Amil. You have little caufe to fay fo. Jago. Come on, come on; you are Pictures out of Doors, Players in your Hufwifery, and Hufwives in your Beds. Jago. Nay, it is true; or elfe I am a Turk, You rife to play, and go to Bed to work. Emil. You fhall not write my praise. Jago. No, let me not. Def. What would't write of me, if thou shouldft praise me? Fago. Oh gentle Lady, do not put me to't, For I am nothing, if not Critical. Def. Come on, affay. There's one gone to the Harbour--Jago. Ay, Madam. Def. I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by feeming otherwife; Come, how wouldst thou praise me? Jago. 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 Muse labours, and thus the is delivered. If she be fair and wife, fairness and wit, The one's for ufe, the other ufeth it. Def. Well prais'd; how if the be black and witty? Fago. If she be black, and thereto have a Wit, She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit. Def. Worfe and worse. Amil. How if fair and foolish? Fago. |