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?
Jago. At my Lodging.

Rod. I'll be with thee betimes,

Jago. Go to, farewel. Do you hear, Rodorigo?
Rod. I'll fell all my Land.

Jago. Thus do I ever make my Fool my Purfe;
For I mine own gain'd Knowledge fhould profane,
If I would time expend with fuch a Swain,

But for my Sport and Profit: I hate the Moor,
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my Sheets
He has done my Office. I know not if't be true-
But I, for meer suspicion in that kind,
Will do, as if for furety. He holds me well
The better shall my Purpose work on him :
Caffio's a proper Man: Let me fee now,
To get this place, and to plume up my Will
In double Knavery How? how? Let's fee ---
After fome time, to abufe Othello's Ears,
That he is too familiar with his Wife
He hath a Perfon, and a smooth Dispose

To be fufpected; fram'd to make Women false.
The Moor is of a free and open Nature,
That thinks Men honeft, that but seem to be fo,
And will as tenderly be led by th' Nofe

As Affes are:

I have't it is engendred Hell and Night
Muft bring this monstrous Birth to the World's light.

Kk 3

[Exit.

ACT

Mont.

АС Т II. SCENE I
SCENE The Capital City of Cyprus.
Enter Montano, and Gentlemen.

WHA

Flood;

HAT from the Cape, can you discern at Sea?
I Gent. Nothing at all, it is a high wrought

I cannot 'twixt the Heav'n and the Main,
Defcry a Sail.

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 Sea,

What Ribs of Oak, when Mountains melt on them,
Can hold the Morties. What fhall we hear of this?
2 Gent. A Segregation of the Turkish Fleet;
For do but ftand upon the foaming Shore,
The chidden Billow feems to pelt the Clouds,
The wind-fhak'd Surge, with high and monftrous Main,
Seems to caft Water on the burning Bear,

And quench the Guards of th'ever fixed Pole ;
I never did like moleftation view

On the enchafed Flood.

Mont. If that the Turkish Fleet,

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

Enter a Gentleman.

3 Gent. News, Lads; our Wars are done :
The desperate Tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,
That their defignment halts. A noble Ship of Venice
Hath feen a grievous wrack and fufferance

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
Like a full Soldier, Let's to the Sea-fide, hoa,
As well to fee the Veffel that comes in,
As to throw out our Eyes for brave Othello,
Even 'till we make the Main and th' Erial blue,
An indiftin& regard.

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,
That fo approve the Moor: Oh let the Heav'ns
Give him Defence against the Elements,

For I have loft him on a dangerous Sea.
Mont. Is he well fhipp'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 Sail, a Sail, a Sail.
Caf. What Noise?

Gent. The Town is empty; on the brow o'th' Sea
Stand ranks of People, and they cry, a Sail.

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?
Caf. Most fortunately, he hath atchiev'd a Maid
That paragons Defcription, and wild Fame :
One that excels the Quirks of blazoning Pens,
And in th'effential Vesture of Creation,
Do's bear an Excellency

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;
Tempests themselves, high Seas, and howling Winds,
The gutter'd Rocks, and congregated Sands,
Traitors enfteep'd, to clog the guiltless Keel,
As having Senfe of Beauty do omit
Their mortal Natures, letting go fafely by
The divine Desdemona.

Mont. What is the ?

Caf. She that I fpake of, our great Captain's Captain s
Left in the Conduct of the bold Jago,

Whose Footing here anticipates our thoughts,
A Sennight's fpeed. Great Jove, Othello guard,
And fwell his Sail with thine own powerful Breath,
That he may blefs this Bay with his tall Ship,
Make loves quick pants in Defdemona's Arms,
Give renew'd Fire to our extinguish'd Spirits,
And give all Cyprus comfort

Enter Defdemona, Jago, Rodorigo, and Æmilia, -
Oh behold!

The Riches of the Ship is come on fhore :
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 ought
But that he's well, and will be fhortly here.
Def. Oh but I fear how loft you Company?
Caf. The great Contention of the Sea and Skies
Parted our Fellow fhip. But hark, a Sail!
Within. A Sail, a Sail.

Gent. They give this greeting to the Cittadel:
This likewife is a Friend.

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
That gives me this bold Shew of Courtefie.

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.
Jago. In faith, too much

;

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

Amil. You have little caufe to fay fo.

Jago. Come on, come on; you are Pictures out of Doors,
Bells in your Parlors, Wild-Cats in your Kitchens,
Saints in your Injuries, Devils being offended,

Players in your Hufwifery, and Hufwives in your Beds.
Def. Oh, fie upon thee, Slanderer.

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.