What from the cape can you discern at sea?
Nothing at all. It is a high-wrought flood;
I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main,
Descry a sail.
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?
A segregation of the Turkish fleet.
For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds;
The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,
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.
If that the Turkish fleet
Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd;
It is impossible to bear it out.
THIRD GENTLEMAN News, lads! 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.
THIRD GENTLEMAN 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.
Pray heavens he be,
For I have served him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!
As well to see the vessel that's come in
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even till we make the main and the aerial blue
An indistinct regard.
THIRD GENTLEMAN Come, let's do so,
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
SECOND GENTLEMAN 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.
He has had most favorable 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.
She that I spake of, our great captain's captain,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits,
And bring all Cyprus comfort.
Enter Desdemona, Emilia Iago, Roderigo, and Attendants.
The riches of the ship is come on shore!
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Hall to thee, lady! And the grace of heaven,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round!
I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me of my lord?
He is not yet arrived, nor know I aught
But that he's well and will be shortly here.
Come on, come on. You are pictures out of doors,
Bells in your parlors, wildcats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.
I am not merry, but I do beguile
The thing I am by seeming otherwise.
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
I am about it, but indeed my invention
Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frieze;
It plucks out brains and all. But my Muse labors,
And thus she is deliver'd.
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth it.
Well praised! How if she be black and witty?
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.
She never yet was foolish that was fair,
For even her folly help'd her to an heir.
These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i' the
alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's foul and
There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
O heavy ignorance! Thou praisest the worst best. But what
praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that
in the authority of her merit did justly put on the vouch of very
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, "Now I 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--
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 liberal counselor?
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 will I ensnare as great a fly as
Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own
courtship. You say true; 'tis so, indeed. If such tricks as these
strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had
not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are
most apt to play the sir in. Very good. Well kissed! an excellent
courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips?
Would they were clyster-pipes for your sake! [Trumpet within.]
The Moor! I know his trumpet.
It gives me wonder great as my content
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus-high, and duck again as low
As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy; for I fear
My soul hath her content so absolute
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
The heavens forbid
But that our loves and comforts should increase,
Even as our days do grow!
Amen to that, sweet powers!
I cannot speak enough of this content;
It stops me here; it is too much of joy.
And this, and this, the greatest discords be
IAGO [Aside.] O, you are well tuned now!
But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.
Come, let us to the castle.
News, friends: our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd.
How does my old acquaintance of this isle?
Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;
I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago,
Go to the bay and disembark my coffers.
Bring thou the master to the citadel;
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.
Do thou meet me presently at the harbor. 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 tonight watches on the court of guard. First, I
must tell thee this: Desdemona is directly in love with him.
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 favor, 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 civil and humane
seeming, for the better compass of his salt and most hidden loose
affection? Why, none, why, none--a slipper and subtle knave, a
finder out of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and
counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present
itself--a devilish knave! Besides, the knave is handsome, young,
and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds
look after--a pestilent complete knave, and the woman hath found
I cannot believe that in her; she's full of most blest
Blest fig's-end! The wine she drinks is made of grapes. If
she had been blest, she would never have loved the Moor. Blest
pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand?
Didst not mark that?
Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.
Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue to the
history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their
lips that their breaths embraced together. Villainous thoughts,
Roderigo! When these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand
comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion.
Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me. I have brought you from
Venice. Watch you tonight; for the command, I'll lay't upon you.
Cassio knows you not. I'll not be far from you. Do you find some
occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or
tainting his discipline, or from what other course you please,
which the time shall more favorably minister.
Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may
strike at you. Provoke him, that he may; for even out of that
will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny, whose qualification shall
come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio.
So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means
I shall then have to prefer them, and the impediment most
profitably removed, without the which there were no expectation
of our prosperity.
I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity.
I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I must
fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.
That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit.
The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,
And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona
A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too,
Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
I stand accountant for as great a sin,
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof
Doth like a poisonous mineral gnaw my inwards,
And nothing can or shall content my soul
Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife.
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
That judgement cannot cure. Which thing to do,
If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb
(For I fear Cassio with my nightcap too),
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me
For making him egregiously an ass
And practicing upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused:
Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.