Yet I, for mere suspicion in that kind, In double knavery, — How, how? — Let's see : — That he is too familiar with his wife: He hath a person, and a smooth dispose, That thinks men honest, that but seem to be so, As asses are. I have 't; it is engender'd: — hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. ACT II. SCENE I. A Sea-port Town in Cyprus. A Platform. Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea? 1 Gent. Nothing at all: it 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, For do but stand upon the foaming shore, And quench the guards of th' ever-fixed pole : [Exit. I never did like molestation view On the enchafed flood. Mon. If that the Turkish fleet Be not inshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd; Enter a third Gentleman. 3 Gent. News, lads! our wars are done. On most part of their fleet. Mon. How! is this true? 3 Gent. A Veronesé, Michael Cassio, The ship is here put in: Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello, Is come on shore: the Moor himself's at sea, Mon. I am glad on 't; 't is 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. As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, 3 Gent. Come, let's do so; For every minute is expectancy Of more arrivance. Enter CASSIO. Cas. Thanks you, the valiant of the warlike isle, That so approve the Moor. O! let the heavens VI. 241 Give him defence against the elements, Cas. His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, Stand in bold cure. [Within.] A sail, a sail, a sail! Enter a Messenger. Cas. What noise? Mess. The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea Stand ranks of people, and they cry, "a sail." Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor. [Guns heard. 2 Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy: Our friends, at least. Cas. I pray you, Sir, go forth, And give us truth who 't is that is arriv'd. 2 Gent. I shall. Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd? That paragons description, and wild fame; One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in th' essential vesture of creation, [Exit. Does bear all excellency. How now? who has put in? 2 Gent. Re-enter Second Gentleman. 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general. Cas. He has had most favourable and happy speed : Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands, Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel, As having sense of beauty, do omit Their mortal natures, letting go safely by The divine Desdemona. Cas. She that I spake of, our great captaiu's captain, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago; Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts, And bring all Cyprus comfort. O, behold! Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and The riches of the ship is come on shore. Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio. What tidings can you tell me of my lord? Cas. He is not yet arriv'd: nor know I aught But that he's well, and will be shortly here. Des. O! but I fear. How lost you company? Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship. [Within.] A sail, a sail! But, hark! a sail. 2 Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel: This likewise is a friend. Cas. Good ancient, you are welcome. [Guns heard. Welcome, [Exit Gentleman. mistress. [TO EMILIA. That I extend my manners: 't is my breeding [Kissing her. Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, That gives me this bold show of courtesy. Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips, As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, You'd have enough. Des. Alas! she has no speech. lago. In faith, too much; I find it still, when I have leave to sleep: Emil. You have little cause to say so. Iago. Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds. Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk: You rise to play, and go to bed to work. Iago. No, let me not. Des. What would'st thou write of me, if thou should'st praise me? Iago. O gentle lady, do not put me to 't, For I am nothing, if not critical. Des. Come on; assay. There's one gone to the harbour? Iago. Ay, Madam. Des. I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. Come; how would'st thou praise me? Iago. I am about it, but, indeed, my invention If she be fair and wise, fairness, and wit, The one's for use, the other useth it. Des. Well prais'd! How, if she be black and witty? lago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit, She 'll find a white that shall her blackness fit. Des. Worse and worse. Emil. How, if fair and foolish? Iago. She never yet was foolish that was fair; For even her folly help'd her to an heir. Des. These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools laugh i' the |