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Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
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 : But, hark! a sail.
Cry within, A sail, a sail! Then guns heard. 2 Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel; This likewise is a friend. Cas.
See for the news.
(Exit Gentleman. Good ancient, you are welcome ;-Welcome, mistress :
[To Emilia. Let it not gall your patience, good lago, That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding That gives me this bold show of
Alas, she has no speech.
You have little cause to say so. Iago. Come on, come on ; you are pictures out
of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens, Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your
beds. Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer!
Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk; You rise to play, and go to bed to work.
Emil. You shall not write my praise. lago.
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.1 Des. Come on, assay :- There's one gone to the
harbour? lago. 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 Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frize, It plucks out brains and all : But my muse labours, And thus she is deliver'd. 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?
Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit, She'ls find a white that shall her blackness fit.
Des. Worse and worse.
Iago. She never yet was foolish that was fair; For even her folly help'd her to an heir.
Des. These are old fond2 paradoxes, to make fools laugh i'the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's foul and foolish?
lago. There's none so foul, and foolish thereunto, But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
Des. O heavy ignorance !-thou praisest the worst best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed? one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?
lago. She that was ever fair, and never proud; Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud; Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay; Fled from her wish, and yet said, -novo
may; She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh, Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly; She, that in wisdom never was so frail, To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail; She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind, See suitors following, and not look behind; She was a wight,-if ever such wight were,
Des. To do what? lago. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.
Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion !-Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. -How say you, Cassio ! is he not a most profane and liberall counsellor ?
Cas. He speaks home, madam ; you may relish him more in the soldier, than in the scholar.
Iago. [.Aside.] He takes her by the palm : Ay, well said, whisper: with as little a web as this, wili I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do; I will gyve2 thee in thine own courtship. You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry, had been better
you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are most apt to play the sir in.3 Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy !4 'tis so, indeed. Yet again, your fingers to
(1) Licentious, free-spoken. (2) Shackle, fetter. (3) Your good-breeding and gallantry.
(4) Courtesy, in the sense of obeisance, was applied to men as well as women.
your lips ? would they were clyster-pipes, for your sake. -[Trumpet.] The Moor, I know his trumpet.
Cas. 'Tis truly so.
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
My dear Othello!
The heavens forbid, But that our loves and comforts should increase, Even as our days do grow ! Oth.
Amen to that, sweet powers! I cannot speak enough of this content, It stops me bere ; it is too much of joy: And this, and this, the greatest discords be,
(Kissing her That e'er our hearts shall make! Iago.
O, you are well tun'd now! But I'll set down the pegs that make this music, As honest as I am. Oth.
Come, let's to the castle.News, friends ; our wars are done, the Turks are
drown'd. How do our old acquaintance of this isle? Honey, you shall be well desir'd! in Cyprus,
(1) Much solicited by invitation.
I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
[Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants.
lago. Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come hither. If thou be'st valiant,-as (they say) base men, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them,- list me.? The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of guard : First, I must tell thee this—Desdemona is directly in love with him.
Rod. With him ? why, 'tis not possible.
lago. Lay thy finger--thus, and let thy soul be instructed. "Mark me, with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical lies: And will she love him still for prating? let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed; and what delight shall she have to look on the devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be,--again to inflame it, and to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour; sympathy in years, manners, and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in : Now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct her in it, and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted (as it is a most pregnant and unforced position,) who stands so eminently in the degree of this fortune, as Cassio does ? a knave very voluble ; no further conscionable, than in putting on the mere form of
(1) Out of method, without order.