DUKE OF VENICE.

BRABANTIO, a Senator.

Two other Senators.

GRATIANO, Brother to BRABANTIO.

LODOVICO, Kinsman to BRABANTIO. OTHELLO, the Moor.

CASSIO, his Lieutenant.

IAGO, his Ancient.

RODERIGO, a Venetian Gentleman.

MONTANO, OTHELLO's predecessor in the Government

of Cyprus.

АСТ І.

SCENE I. VENICE. A Street.

Enter RODERIGO and IAGO.

Rod. Tush, never tell me; I take it much unkindly That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse

As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.
Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me:-
If ever I did dream of such a matter,

Abhor me.

Rod. Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. Iago. Despise me if I do not. Three great ones of te In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Oft capp'd to him ;-and, by the faith of man,

I know my price; I am worth no worse a place:

But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion, nonsuits

My mediators; for, ccrtes," says he,
"I have already chose my officer."
And what was he?

Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,

A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows

More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
Wherein the togèd consuls can propose

[cit,

As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, Sir, had the election:
And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof,
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds,
Christian and heathen,-must be be-lee'd and calm'd
By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster;
He in good time must his lieutenant be,
And I (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's ancient.
Rod. Bv heaven, I rather would have been his hang

man.

Iago. But there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of servi g; Preferment goes by letter and affection,

Not by the old gradation, where each second

Stood heir to the first. Now, Sir, be judge yourself, Whether I in any just term am affined

To love the Moor.

Rod. I would not follow him then.

Iago. O Sir, content you;

I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark

Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,

For naught but provender; and, when he's old, cashiera:
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lined their

coats,

Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul.
And such a one do I profess myself.
For, Sir,

It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Lago:
In following him, I follow but myself;

Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:

For when my outward action doth demonstrate

The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, If he can carry 't thus!

Iago. Call up her father;

Rouse him make after him, poison his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,
And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy
Yet throw such changes of vexation on 't,
As it may lose some colour.

Rod. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.
Iago. Do; with like timorous accent, and dire yell,
As when, by night and negligence, the fire
Is spied in populous cities.

Rod. What, ho! Brabantio! signior Brabantio, ho! Iago. Awake! what, ho! Brabantio! thieves! thieves!

thieves !

Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! Thieves thieves!

BRABANTIO, above, at a window.

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there?

Rod. Signior, is all your family within ?

Iago. Are your doors lock'd?

Bra. Why, wherefore ask you this?

[your gown;

Iago. 'Zounds, Sir, you are robb'd; for shame, put on
Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
Even now, very now, an old black ram

Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise;
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,

Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:
Arise, I say.

Bra. What, have you lost your wits?

Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? Bra. Not I; what are you?

Rod. My name is Roderigo.

Bra. The worse welcome :

I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:

In honest plainness thou hast heard me say,

My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,
Being full of supper and distempering draughts,
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come

To start my quiet.

Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir, Sir,

Bra. But thou must needs be sure,

My spirit and my place have in them power

To make this bitter to thee.

Rod. Patience, good Sir.

Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice; My house is not a grange.

Rod. Most grave Brabantio,

In simple and pure soul I come to you.

Iago. 'Zounds, Sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service, you think we are ruffians: you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you: you'll have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans.

Bra. What profane wretch art thou?

Iago. I am one, Sir, that comes to tell you, your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

(As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter,
At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night,
Transported, with no worse nor better guard,
But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,-
If this be known to you, and your allowance,
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
But, if you know not this, my manners tell me
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe

That, from the sense of all civility,
I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
Your daughter,-if you have not given her leave,-
I say again, hath made a gross revolt
Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,

In an extravagant and wheeling stranger,

Of here and everywhere. Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state

For thus deluding you.

Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho!

Give me a taper!-call up all my people!-
This accident is not unlike my dream;
Belief of it oppresses me already.--
Light, I say! light!

[Exit from above

lago. Farewell; for I must leave you:
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produced (as, if I stay, I shall)

Against the Moor: for, I do know the state-
However this may gall him with some check-
Cannot with safety cast him; for he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,

(Which even now stand in act,) that, for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have not
To lead their business; in which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,

Oth. Let him do his spite:
My services, which I have done the signiory,
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know
(Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
I shail promulgate) I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege; and my demerits
May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach'd: for know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,

I would not my unhousèd free condition
Put into circumscription and confine

For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yonder? Enter CASSIO, at a distance, and certain Officers with torches.

Iago. These are the raised father and his friends: You were best go in.

Oth. Not I: I must be found;

My parts, my title, and my perfect soul,
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?

Iago. By Janus, I think no.

Oth. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant-
The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
What is the news?

Cas. The duke does greet you, general;
And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,
Even on the instant.

Oth. What is the matter, think you?

Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine;
It is a business of some heat: the galleys
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
This very night at one another's heels,
And many of the consuls, raised and met,

Are at the duke's already: you have been hotly call'd When, being not at your lodging to be found,

The senate hath sent about three several quests To search you out.

[for,

I must shew out a flag and sign of love,

Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find
Lead to the Sagittary the raised search;
And there will I be with him. So, farewell.

[him, [Exit.

Enter below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches.

Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is; And what's to come of my despised time, Is naught but bitterness.-Now, Roderigo, Where didst thou see her?-O unhappy girl!With the Moor, sayst thou?-Who would be a father?— How didst thou know 'twas she?-O, thou deceiv'st me Past thought!-What said she to you?-Get more tapers;

Raise all my kindred.-Are they married, think you? Rod. Truly, I think they are.

Bra. O heaven!-How got she out?-Otreason of the

blood

Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds By what you see them act.-Are there not charms

By which the property of youth and maidhood

May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing?

Rod. Yes, Sir, I have indeed.

Bra. Call up my brother.-O, that you had had her!— Some one way, some another.-Do you know Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?

Rod. I think I can discover him, if you please

To get good guard, and go along with me.

Bra. Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call; I may command at most.-Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night.

On, good Roderigo;-I'll deserve your pains. [Exeunt.

Oth. 'Tis well I am found by you.

I will but spend a word here in the house,

And go with you.

Cas. Ancient, what makes he here?

\Exit.

Re-enter OTHELLO.

Iago. Marry, to-Come, captain, will you go?
Oth. Have with you.

Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you.

Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers of night, with torches and weapons.

Iago. It is Brabantio:-general, be advised; He comes to bad intent.

Oth. Holla! stand there!

Rod. Signior, it is the Moor.

Bra. Down with him, thief! [They draw on both sides. Iago. You, Roderigo! come, Sir, I am for you.

Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will

rust them.

Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons.

[daughter!

Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her:
For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy,
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,
Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
Of such a thing as thou,-to fear, not to delight.
Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense,
That thou hast practised on her with foul charms;
Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
That waken motion.-I'll have it disputed on;
'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.

I therefore apprehend and do attach thee,
For an abuser of the world, a practiser
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant-
Lay hold upon him; if he do resist,
Subdue him at his peril.

Oth. Hold your hands,

Both you of my inclining, and the rest:

Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
Without a prompter.-Where will you that I go
To answer this your charge?

Bra. To prison: till fit time

Of law, and course of direct session,
Call thee to answer

Oth. What if I do obey!

How may the duke be therewith satisfied,
Whose messengers are here about my side,
Upon some present business of the state,
To bring me to him?

Off. 'Tis true, most worthy signior;

The duke's in council; and your noble self,
I am sure, is sent for.

Bra How! the duke in council!

In this time of the night!-Bring him away:
Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself,
Or any of my brothers of the state,

Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own:
For if such actions may have passage free,
Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.

[Exeunt

SCENE III.-The same. A Council-Chamber. The DUKB and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending.

Duke. There is no composition in these news That gives them credit.

1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion'd; My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. Duke. And mire a hundred and forty. 2 Sen. And mine two hundred:

But though they jump not on a just account, (As in these cases, where the aim reports,

Tis oft with difference,) yet do they all confirm

A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment;
I do not so secure me in the error,
But the main article I do approve

In fearful sense.

Sailor. [Within.] What ho! what ho! what ho!

Enter an Officer, with a Sailor.

Of. A messenger from the galleys.
Duke. Now-the business?

Sailor. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
So was I bid report here to the state,
By signior Angelo.

Duke. How say you by this change? 1 Sen. This cannot be,

By no assay of reason; 'tis a pageant,

To keep us in false gaze. When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
And let ourselves again but understand,

That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question bear it,
For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
But altogether lacks the abilities

That Rhodes is dress'd in :-if we make thought of this,
We must not think the Turk is so unskilful,

To leave that latest which concerns him first •
Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,
To wake and wage a danger profitless.

Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
Off. Here is more news.

Enter a Messenger

Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet.

1 Sen. Ay, so I thought.-How many, as you guess? Mess. Of thirty sail: and now do they re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus.-Signior Montano, Your trusty and most valiant servitor,

With his free duty recommends you thus,

And prays you to believe him.

Duke 'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.

Marcus Lucchesé, is not he in town?

1 Sen. He's now in Florence.

[despatch.

Duke. Write from us; wish him post-post-haste: 1 Sen Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

Exter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and. Officers.

Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman.[TO BRA.] I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior: We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night.

Bra. So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me;
Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business,
Hath raised me from my bed: nor doth the general
Take hold on me; for my particular grief
Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And it is still itself.

Duke. Why, what's the matter?
Bra. My daughter! O my daughter!
Sen. Dead?

[care

Bra. Ay, to me,

She is abused, stolen from me, and corrupted
By spells and medicir es bought of mountebanks:
For nature so preposterously to err,

Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,

Sans witchcraft could not

Duke. Whoe'er he be that, in this foul proceeding, Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself,

And you of her, the bloody book of law

You shall yourself read in the bitter letter,

After your own sense; yea, though our proper son
Stood in your action.

Bra. Humbly I thank your grace.

Here is the man, this Moor: whom now, it seems,
Your special mandate, for the state affairs,
Hath hither brought.

Duke and Sen. We are very sorry for it.

Duke [To OTH.] What, in your own part, can you say Bra. Nothing, but this is so.

[to this!

Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,

My very noble and approved good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,

It is most true; true, I have married her:
The very head and front of my offending

Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace:
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field;

And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charged withal,)

I won his daughter with.

Bra. A maiden never bold;

Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
Blush'd at herself; and she,-in spite of nature,

Of years, of country, credit, everything,-
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on!
It is a judgment maim'd, and most imperfect,
That will confess perfection so could err
Against all rules of nature; and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning hell,
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again,
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
He wrought upon her.

Duke. To vouch this is no proof,
Without more certain and more overt test
Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming do prefer against him.
1 Sen. But, Othello, speak;

Did you by indirect and forced courses
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?

Duke. Say it, Othello.

Oth. Her father loved me; oft invited ne;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year-the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.

I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;
Of hairbreadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach";
Of being taken by the insolent foe,

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And portance in my travel's history:

Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle, 2

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch

It was my hint to speak,-such was the process; [heaven,

And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads

Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to hear,
Would Desdemona seriously incline:

ж

But still the house affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour; and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively. I did consent;

And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:

She swore,-in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:

She wish'd she had not heard it; yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me;
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,

And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd;
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used:-
Here comes the lady; let her witness it.

Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, and Attendants,

Duke. I think this tale would win my daughter too.— Good Brabantio,

Take up this mangled matter at the best:
Men do their broken weapons rather use,
Than their bare hands.

Bra. I pray you, hear her speak;

If she confess that she was half the wooer
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame

Light on the man!-Come hither, gentle misti ess;
Do you perceive in all this noble company
Where most you owe obedience?

Des. My noble father,

I do perceive here a divided duty:

To you I am bound for life and education;

My life and education both do learn me

How to respect you; you are the lord of duty,

I am hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband;

And so much duty as my mother shew'd

To you, preferring you before her father,

So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor my lord.

Bra. God be with you!-I have done.-
Please it your grace, on to the state affairs;
I had rather to adopt a child than get it.—
Come hither, Moor:

I here do give thee that with all my heart
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keep from thee.-For your sake, jewel,

I am glad at soul I have no other child;

For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
To hang clogs on them.-I have done, my lord.

Duke. Let me speak like yourself; and lay a sentence,
Which, as a grise, or step, may help these lovers
Into your favour.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.

To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,

We lose it not so long as we can smile. He bears the sentence well that nothing bears But the free comfort which from thence he hears: But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow, That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. These sentences, to sugar or to gall, Being strong on both sides, are equivocal: But words are words; I never yet did hear That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state. Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus:-Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you: and though we have the e a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a Bovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice on you you must therefore be content to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.

Oth. The tyrant eustom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnize
A natural and prompt alacrity

I find in hardness; and do undertake
These present wars against the Ottomites.
Most humbly, therefore, bending to your state,

I crave fit disposition for my wife;

Due reference of place and exhibition,
With such accommodation and besort
As levels with her breeding

Duke. If you please,

Be't at her father's.

Bra. I'll not have it so.

Oth. Your voices, lords:-'beseech you, let her will Have a free way.

Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not,
To please the palate of my appetite,

Nor to comply with heat (the young affects
In me defunct) and proper satisfaction;

But to be free and bounteous to her mind:

And heaven defend your good souls, that you think

I will your serious and great business scant
For she is with me: no, when light-wing'd toys
Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dulness

My speculative and active instruments,

That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
And all indign and base adversities

Make head against my estimation!

Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste,

And speed must answer it; you must hence to-night Des. To-night, my lord?

Good night to every one.-[To BRA.] And, noble signior, If virtue no delighted beauty lack,

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

1 Sen. Adieu, brave Moor! use Desdemona well Bra Look to her, Moor! have a quick eye to see; She has deceived her father, and may thee.

[Exeunt DUKE, Senators, Officers, de Oth. My life upon her faith!-Honest Lago, My Desdemona must I leave to thee.

I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her;
And bring them after in the best advantage.-
Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
To spend with thee: we must obey the time.

[Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMOJA

Rod. Iago! Iago. What say'st thou, noble heart? Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou? Iago. Why, go to bed, and sleep. Rod. I will incontinently drown myself. Iago. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee after it. Why, thou silly gentleman!

Rod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment:

and then have we a prescription to die, when death is our physician.

Iago. O villanous! Ir ve looked upon the world for four times seven years; an since I could distinguish between a benefit and an injury, I never found a man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say I would drown myself for the love of a Guinea-hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.

Rod. What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond; but it is not in virtue to amend it.

Iago. Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens; to the which our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce; set hyssop, and weed up thyme; supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many; either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry; why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our walls If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions: but we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this, that you call-love, to be a sect or scion.

Rod. It cannot be.

Iago. It is merely a lust of the blood, and a permission of the will. Come, be a man: drown thyself? drown cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow these wars; defeat thy favour with a usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor, -put money in thy purse,-nor he his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration;-put but money in thy purse.-These Moors are changeable in their wills;-fill thy purse with money the food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice. She must have change, she must: therefore put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning Make all the money thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow, betwixt an erring barbarian and a super-subtle Venetian, be not too hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy, than to be drowned and go without her.

Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue?

lago. Thou art sure of me;-go, make money:-I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure and me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time, which will be delivered. Traverse; go; provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu.

Rod. Where shall we meet i' the morning?
Iago. At my lodging.

Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.

Iago. Go to; farewell.

Rod. What say you?

Do you hear, Roderigo?

Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear?
Rod. I am changed. I'll sell all my land.

Iago. Go to; farewell: put money enough in your
purse.-
[Exit RODERIGO.

Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If I would time expend with such a snipe,
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 mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do as if for surety. He holds me well;
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio's a proper man: let me see now;
To get his place, and to plume up my will;
A double knavery,-How, how?-Let me see:-
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear,
That he is too familiar with his wife:-
He hath a person, and a smooth dispose,

To be suspected; framed to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature,

That thinks men honest that but seem to be so;
And will as tenderly be led by the nose

Enter MONTANO and two Gentlemen.

Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea? 1 Gent. Nothing at all: is a high-wrought flood; I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main, Descry a sail.

Mon. 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 them,
Can hold the mortise? what shall we hear of this?
2 Gent. A segregation of the Turkish fleet:
For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds;
The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous main.
Seems to cast water on the burning bear,
And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
I never did like molestation view
On the enchafed flood.

Mon. If that the Turkish fleet
Be not enshelter'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.

Mon. How! is this true?

3 Gent. The ship is here put in, A Veronesé; Michael Cassio,

Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,
Is come on shore: the Moor himself's at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

Mon. 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.

Mon. Pray heaven he be;

For I have served 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 throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and the ærial blue
An indistinct regard.

3 Gent. Come, let's do so; For every minute is expectancy Of more arrivance.