Gent. Be comforted good Madam, the great rageYou see is kill'd in him: desire him to go in,Trouble him no more till further setling
Cor. Wilt please your Highnesse walke?Lear. You must beare with me:Pray you now forget, and forgiue,I am old and foolish.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter with Drumme and Colours, Edmund, Regan. Gentlemen, andSouldiers.
Bast. Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold,Or whether since he is aduis'd by oughtTo change the course, he's full of alteration,And selfereprouing, bring his constant pleasure
Reg. Our Sisters man is certainely miscarried
Bast. 'Tis to be doubted Madam
Reg. Now sweet Lord,You know the goodnesse I intend vpon you:Tell me but truly, but then speake the truth,Do you not loue my Sister?Bast. In honour'd Loue
Reg. But haue you neuer found my Brothers way,To the fore-fended place?Bast. No by mine honour, Madam
Reg. I neuer shall endure her, deere my LordBe not familiar with her
Bast. Feare not, she and the Duke her husband.Enter with Drum and Colours, Albany, Gonerill, Soldiers.
Alb. Our very louing Sister, well be-met:Sir, this I heard, the King is come to his DaughterWith others, whom the rigour of our StateForc'd to cry out
Regan. Why is this reasond?Gone. Combine together 'gainst the Enemie:For these domesticke and particular broiles,Are not the question heere
Alb. Let's then determine with th' ancient of warreOn our proceeding
Reg. Sister you'le go with vs?Gon. No
Reg. 'Tis most conuenient, pray go with vs
Gon. Oh ho, I know the Riddle, I will goe.
Exeunt. both the Armies.
Enter Edgar.
Edg. If ere your Grace had speech with man so poore,Heare me one word
Alb. Ile ouertake you, speake
Edg. Before you fight the Battaile, ope this Letter:If you haue victory, let the Trumpet soundFor him that brought it: wretched though I seeme,I can produce a Champion, that will proueWhat is auouched there. If you miscarry,Your businesse of the world hath so an end,And machination ceases. Fortune loues you
Alb. Stay till I haue read the Letter
Edg. I was forbid it:When time shall serue, let but the Herald cry,And Ile appeare againe.Enter.
Alb. Why farethee well, I will o're-looke thy paper.Enter Edmund.
Bast. The Enemy's in view, draw vp your powers,Heere is the guesse of their true strength and Forces,By dilligent discouerie, but your hastIs now vrg'd on you
Alb. We will greet the time.Enter.
Bast. To both these Sisters haue I sworne my loue:Each iealous of the other, as the stungAre of the Adder. Which of them shall I take?Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enioy'dIf both remaine aliue: To take the Widdow,Exasperates, makes mad her Sister Gonerill,And hardly shall I carry out my side,Her husband being aliue. Now then, wee'l vseHis countenance for the Battaile, which being done,Let her who would be rid of him, deuiseHis speedy taking off. As for the mercieWhich he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,The Battaile done, and they within our power,Shall neuer see his pardon: for my state,Stands on me to defend, not to debate.Enter.
Scena Secunda.
Alarum within. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Lear, Cordelia,andSouldiers, ouer the Stage, and Exeunt. Enter Edgar, and Gloster.
Edg. Heere Father, take the shadow of this TreeFor your good hoast: pray that the right may thriue:If euer I returne to you againe,Ile bring you comfort
Glo. Grace go with you Sir.Enter.
Alarum and Retreat within. Enter Edgar.
Edgar. Away old man, giue me thy hand, away:King Lear hath lost, he and his Daughter tane,Giue me thy hand: Come on
Glo. No further Sir, a man may rot euen heere
Edg. What in ill thoughts againe?Men must endureTheir going hence, euen as their comming hither,Ripenesse is all come on
Glo. And that's true too.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter in conquest with Drum and Colours, Edmund, Lear, and Cordelia, as prisoners, Souldiers, Captaine.
Bast. Some Officers take them away: good guard,Vntill their greater pleasures first be knowneThat are to censure them
Cor. We are not the first,Who with best meaning haue incurr'd the worst:For thee oppressed King I am cast downe,My selfe could else out-frowne false Fortunes frowne.Shall we not see these Daughters, and these Sisters?Lear. No, no, no, no: come let's away to prison,We two alone will sing like Birds i'th' Cage:When thou dost aske me blessing, Ile kneele downeAnd aske of thee forgiuenesse: So wee'l liue,And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laughAt gilded Butterflies: and heere (poore Rogues)Talke of Court newes, and wee'l talke with them too,Who looses, and who wins; who's in, who's out;And take vpon's the mystery of things,As if we were Gods spies: And wee'l weare outIn a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,That ebbe and flow by th' Moone
Bast. Take them away
Lear. Vpon such sacrifices my Cordelia,The Gods themselues throw Incense.Haue I caught thee?He that parts vs, shall bring a Brand from Heauen,And fire vs hence, like Foxes: wipe thine eyes,The good yeares shall deuoure them, flesh and fell,Ere they shall make vs weepe?Weele see 'em staru'd first: come.Enter.
Bast. Come hither Captaine, hearke.Take thou this note, go follow them to prison,One step I haue aduanc'd thee, if thou do'stAs this instructs thee, thou dost make thy wayTo Noble Fortunes: know thou this, that menAre as the time is; to be tender mindedDo's not become a Sword, thy great imploymentWill not beare question: either say thou'lt do't,Or thriue by other meanes
Capt. Ile do't my Lord
Bast. About it, and write happy, when th'hast done,Marke I say instantly, and carry it soAs I haue set it downe.
Exit Captaine.
Flourish. Enter Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Soldiers.
Alb. Sir, you haue shew'd to day your valiant straineAnd Fortune led you well: you haue the CaptiuesWho were the opposites of this dayes strife:I do require them of you so to vse them,As we shall find their merites, and our safetyMay equally determine
Bast. Sir, I thought it fit,To send the old and miserable King to some retention,Whose age had Charmes in it, whose Title more,To plucke the common bosome on his side,And turne our imprest Launces in our eiesWhich do command them. With him I sent the Queen:My reason all the same, and they are readyTo morrow, or at further space, t' appeareWhere you shall hold your Session
Alb. Sir, by your patience,I hold you but a subiect of this Warre,Not as a Brother
Reg. That's as we list to grace him.Methinkes our pleasure might haue bin demandedEre you had spoke so farre. He led our Powers,Bore the Commission of my place and person,The which immediacie may well stand vp,And call it selfe your Brother
Gon. Not so hot:In his owne grace he doth exalt himselfe,More then in your addition
Reg. In my rights,By me inuested, he compeeres the best
Alb. That were the most, if he should husband you
Reg. Iesters do oft proue Prophets
Gon. Hola, hola,That eye that told you so, look'd but a squint
Rega. Lady I am not well, else I should answereFrom a full flowing stomack. Generall,Take thou my Souldiers, prisoners, patrimony,Dispose of them, of me, the walls is thine:Witnesse the world, that I create thee heereMy Lord, and Master
Gon. Meane you to enioy him?Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will
Bast. Nor in thine Lord
Alb. Halfe-blooded fellow, yes
Reg. Let the Drum strike, and proue my title thine
Alb. Stay yet, heare reason: Edmund, I arrest theeOn capitall Treason; and in thy arrest,This guilded Serpent: for your claime faire Sisters,I bare it in the interest of my wife,'Tis she is sub-contracted to this Lord,And I her husband contradict your Banes.If you will marry, make your loues to me,My Lady is bespoke
Gon. An enterlude
Alb. Thou art armed Gloster,Let the Trumpet sound:If none appeare to proue vpon thy person,Thy heynous, manifest, and many Treasons,There is my pledge: Ile make it on thy heartEre I taste bread, thou art in nothing lesseThen I haue heere proclaim'd thee
Reg. Sicke, O sicke
Gon. If not, Ile nere trust medicine
Bast. There's my exchange, what in the world hesThat names me Traitor, villain-like he lies,Call by the Trumpet: he that dares approach;On him, on you, who not, I will maintaineMy truth and honor firmely.Enter a Herald.
Alb. A Herald, ho.Trust to thy single vertue, for thy SouldiersAll leuied in my name, haue in my nameTooke their discharge
Regan. My sicknesse growes vpon me
Alb. She is not well, conuey her to my Tent.Come hither Herald, let the Trumpet sound,And read out this.
A Trumpet sounds.
Herald reads.
If any man of qualitie or degree, within the lists of the Army, will maintaine vpon Edmund, supposed Earle of Gloster, that he is a manifold Traitor, let him appeare by the third sound of the Trumpet: he is bold in his defence.
1 Trumpet.
Her. Againe.
2 Trumpet.
Her. Againe.
3 Trumpet.
Trumpet answers within.
Enter Edgar armed.
Alb. Aske him his purposes, why he appearesVpon this Call o'th' Trumpet
Her. What are you?Your name, your quality, and why you answerThis present Summons?Edg. Know my name is lostBy Treasons tooth: bare-gnawne, and Canker-bit,Yet am I Noble as the AduersaryI come to cope
Alb. Which is that Aduersary?Edg. What's he that speakes for Edmund Earle of Gloster?Bast. Himselfe, what saist thou to him?Edg. Draw thy Sword,That if my speech offend a Noble heart,Thy arme may do thee Iustice, heere is mine:Behold it is my priuiledge,The priuiledge of mine Honours,My oath, and my profession. I protest,Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence,Despise thy victor-Sword, and fire new Fortune,Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a Traitor:False to thy Gods, thy Brother, and thy Father,Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious Prince,And from th' extremest vpward of thy head,To the discent and dust below thy foote,A most Toad-spotted Traitor. Say thou no,This Sword, this arme, and my best spirits are bentTo proue vpon thy heart, where to I speake,Thou lyest
Bast. In wisedome I should aske thy name,But since thy out-side lookes so faire and Warlike,And that thy tongue (some say) of breeding breathes,What safe, and nicely I might well delay,By rule of Knight-hood, I disdaine and spurne:Backe do I tosse these Treasons to thy head,With the hell-hated Lye, ore-whelme thy heart,Which for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,This Sword of mine shall giue them instant way,Where they shall rest for euer. Trumpets speake
Alb. Saue him, saue him.
Alarums. Fights.
Gon. This is practise Gloster,By th' law of Warre, thou wast not bound to answerAn vnknowne opposite: thou art not vanquish'd,But cozend, and beguild
Alb. Shut your mouth Dame,Or with this paper shall I stop it: hold Sir,Thou worse then any name, reade thine owne euill:No tearing Lady, I perceiue you know it
Gon. Say if I do, the Lawes are mine not thine,Who can araigne me for't?Enter.
Alb. Most monstrous! O, know'st thou this paper?Bast. Aske me not what I know
Alb. Go after her, she's desperate, gouerne her
Bast. What you haue charg'd me with,That haue I done,And more, much more, the time will bring it out.'Tis past, and so am I: But what art thouThat hast this Fortune on me? If thou'rt Noble,I do forgiue thee
Edg. Let's exchange charity:I am no lesse in blood then thou art Edmond,If more, the more th'hast wrong'd me.My name is Edgar and thy Fathers Sonne,The Gods are iust, and of our pleasant vicesMake instruments to plague vs:The darke and vitious place where thee he got,Cost him his eyes
Bast. Th'hast spoken right, 'tis true,The Wheele is come full circle, I am heere
Alb. Me thought thy very gate did prophesieA Royall Noblenesse: I must embrace thee,Let sorrow split my heart, if euer IDid hate thee, or thy Father
Edg. Worthy Prince I know't
Alb. Where haue you hid your selfe?How haue you knowne the miseries of your Father?Edg. By nursing them my Lord. List a breefe tale,And when 'tis told, O that my heart would burst.The bloody proclamation to escapeThat follow'd me so neere, (O our liues sweetnesse,That we the paine of death would hourely dye,Rather then die at once) taught me to shiftInto a mad-mans rags, t' assume a semblanceThat very Dogges disdain'd: and in this habitMet I my Father with his bleeding Rings,Their precious Stones new lost: became his guide,Led him, begg'd for him, sau'd him from dispaire.Neuer (O fault) reueal'd my selfe vnto him,Vntill some halfe houre past when I was arm'd,Not sure, though hoping of this good successe,I ask'd his blessing, and from first to lastTold him our pilgrimage. But his flaw'd heart(Alacke too weake the conflict to support)Twixt two extremes of passion, ioy and greefe,Burst smilingly
Bast. This speech of yours hath mou'd me,And shall perchance do good, but speake you on,You looke as you had something more to say
Alb. If there be more, more wofull, hold it in,For I am almost ready to dissolue,Hearing of this.Enter a Gentleman.
Gen. Helpe, helpe: O helpe
Edg. What kinde of helpe?Alb. Speake man
Edg. What meanes this bloody Knife?Gen. 'Tis hot, it smoakes, it came euen from the heartof- O she's dead
Alb. Who dead? Speake man
Gen. Your Lady Sir, your Lady; and her SisterBy her is poyson'd: she confesses it
Bast. I was contracted to them both, all threeNow marry in an instant
Edg. Here comes Kent.Enter Kent.
Alb. Produce the bodies, be they aliue or dead;
Gonerill and Regans bodies brought out.
This iudgement of the Heauens that makes vs tremble.Touches vs not with pitty: O, is this he?The time will not allow the complementWhich very manners vrges
Kent. I am comeTo bid my King and Master aye good night.Is he not here?Alb. Great thing of vs forgot,Speake Edmund, where's the King? and where's Cordelia?Seest thou this obiect Kent?Kent. Alacke, why thus?Bast. Yet Edmund was belou'd:The one the other poison'd for my sake,And after slew herselfe
Alb. Euen so: couer their faces
Bast. I pant for life: some good I meane to doDespight of mine owne Nature. Quickly send,(Be briefe in it) to'th' Castle, for my WritIs on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia:Nay, send in time
Alb. Run, run, O run
Edg. To who my Lord? Who ha's the Office?Send thy token of repreeue
Bast. Well thought on, take my Sword,Giue it the Captaine
Edg. Hast thee for thy life
Bast. He hath Commission from thy Wife and me,To hang Cordelia in the prison, andTo lay the blame vpon her owne dispaire,That she for-did her selfe
Alb. The Gods defend her, beare him hence awhile.Enter Lear with Cordelia in his armes.
Lear. Howle, howle, howle: O you are men of stones,Had I your tongues and eyes, Il'd vse them so,That Heauens vault should crack: she's gone for euer.I know when one is dead, and when one liues,She's dead as earth: Lend me a Looking-glasse,If that her breath will mist or staine the stone,Why then she liues
Kent. Is this the promis'd end?Edg. Or image of that horror
Alb. Fall and cease
Lear. This feather stirs, she liues: if it be so,It is a chance which do's redeeme all sorrowesThat euer I haue felt
Kent. O my good Master
Lear. Prythee away
Edg. 'Tis Noble Kent your Friend
Lear. A plague vpon you Murderors, Traitors all,I might haue sau'd her, now she's gone for euer:Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha:What is't thou saist? Her voice was euer soft,Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.I kill'd the Slaue that was a hanging thee
Gent. 'Tis true (my Lords) he did
Lear. Did I not fellow?I haue seene the day, with my good biting FaulchionI would haue made him skip: I am old now,And these same crosses spoile me. Who are you?Mine eyes are not o'th' best, Ile tell you straight
Kent. If Fortune brag of two, she lou'd and hated,One of them we behold
Lear. This is a dull sight, are you not Kent?Kent. The same: your Seruant Kent,Where is your Seruant Caius?Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that,He'le strike and quickly too, he's dead and rotten
Kent. No my good Lord, I am the very man
Lear. Ile see that straight
Kent. That from your first of difference and decay,Haue follow'd your sad steps
Lear. You are welcome hither
Kent. Nor no man else:All's cheerlesse, darke, and deadly,Your eldest Daughters haue fore-done themselues,And desperately are deadLear. I so I thinke
Alb. He knowes not what he saies, and vaine is itThat we present vs to him.Enter a Messenger.
Edg. Very bootlesse
Mess. Edmund is dead my Lord
Alb. That's but a trifle heere:You Lords and Noble Friends, know our intent,What comfort to this great decay may come,Shall be appli'd. For vs we will resigne,During the life of this old MaiestyTo him our absolute power, you to your rights,With boote, and such addition as your HonoursHaue more then merited. All Friends shallTaste the wages of their vertue, and all FoesThe cup of their deseruings: O see, see
Lear. And my poore Foole is hang'd: no, no, no life?Why should a Dog, a Horse, a Rat haue life,And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,Neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer.Pray you vndo this Button. Thanke you Sir,Do you see this? Looke on her? Looke her lips,Looke there, looke there.
He dies.
Edg. He faints, my Lord, my Lord
Kent. Breake heart, I prythee breake
Edg. Looke vp my Lord
Kent. Vex not his ghost, O let him passe, he hates him,That would vpon the wracke of this tough worldStretch him out longer
Edg. He is gon indeed
Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long,He but vsurpt his life
Alb. Beare them from hence, our present businesseIs generall woe: Friends of my soule, you twaine,Rule in this Realme, and the gor'd state sustaine
Kent. I haue a iourney Sir, shortly to go,My Master calls me, I must not say no
Edg. The waight of this sad time we must obey,Speake what we feele, not what we ought to say:The oldest hath borne most, we that are yong,Shall neuer see so much, nor liue so long.
Exeunt. with a dead March.
The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Rodorigo, and Iago.
Rodorigo. Neuer tell me, I take it much vnkindlyThat thou (Iago) who hast had my purse,As if y strings were thine, should'st know of this
Ia. But you'l not heare me. If euer I did dreamOf such a matter, abhorre me
Rodo. Thou told'st me,Thou did'st hold him in thy hate
Iago. Despise meIf I do not. Three Great-ones of the Cittie,(In personall suite to make me his Lieutenant)Off-capt to him: and by the faith of manI know my price, I am worth no worsse a place.But he (as louing his owne pride, and purposes)Euades them, with a bumbast Circumstance,Horribly stufft with Epithites of warre,Non-suites my Mediators. For certes, saies he,I haue already chose my Officer. And what was he?For-sooth, a great Arithmatician,One Michaell Cassio, a Florentine,(A Fellow almost damn'd in a faire Wife)That neuer set a Squadron in the Field,Nor the deuision of a Battaile knowesMore then a Spinster. Vnlesse the Bookish Theoricke:Wherein the Tongued Consuls can proposeAs Masterly as he. Meere pratle (without practise)Is all his Souldiership. But he (Sir) had th' election;And I (of whom his eies had seene the proofeAt Rhodes, at Ciprus, and on others groundsChristen'd, and Heathen) must be be-leed, and calm'dBy Debitor, and Creditor. This Counter-caster,He (in good time) must his Lieutenant be,And I (blesse the marke) his Mooreships Auntient
Rod. By heauen, I rather would haue bin his hangman
Iago. Why, there's no remedie.'Tis the cursse of Seruice;Preferment goes by Letter, and affection,And not by old gradation, where each secondStood Heire to'th' first. Now Sir, be iudge your selfe,Whether I in any iust terme am Affin'dTo loue the Moore?Rod. I would not follow him then
Iago. O Sir content you.I follow him, to serue my turne vpon him.We cannot all be Masters, nor all MastersCannot be truely follow'd. You shall markeMany a dutious and knee-crooking knaue;That (doting on his owne obsequious bondage)Weares out his time, much like his Masters Asse,For naught but Prouender, & when he's old Casheer'd.Whip me such honest knaues. Others there areWho trym'd in Formes, and visages of Dutie,Keepe yet their hearts attending on themselues,And throwing but showes of Seruice on their LordsDoe well thriue by them.And when they haue lin'd their CoatesDoe themselues Homage.These Fellowes haue some soule,And such a one do I professe my selfe. For (Sir)It is as sure as you are Rodorigo,Were I the Moore, I would not be Iago:In following him, I follow but my selfe.Heauen is my Iudge, not I for loue and dutie,But seeming so, for my peculiar end:For when my outward Action doth demonstrateThe natiue act, and figure of my heartIn Complement externe, 'tis not long afterBut I will weare my heart vpon my sleeueFor Dawes to pecke at; I am not what I am
Rod. What a fall Fortune do's the Thicks-lips oweIf he can carry't thus?Iago. Call vp her Father:Rowse him, make after him, poyson his delight,Proclaime him in the Streets. Incense her kinsmen,And though he in a fertile Clymate dwell,Plague him with Flies: though that his Ioy be Ioy,Yet throw such chances of vexation on't,As it may loose some colour
Rodo. Heere is her Fathers house, Ile call aloud
Iago. Doe, with like timerous accent, and dire yell,As when (by Night and Negligence) the FireIs spied in populus Citties
Rodo. What hoa: Brabantio, Signior Brabantio, hoa
Iago. Awake: what hoa, Brabantio: Theeues, Theeues.Looke to your house, your daughter, and your Bags,Theeues, Theeues
Bra. Aboue. What is the reason of this terribleSummons? What is the matter there?Rodo. Signior is all your Familie within?Iago. Are your Doores lock'd?Bra. Why? Wherefore ask you this?Iago. Sir, y'are rob'd, for shame put on your Gowne,Your heart is burst, you haue lost halfe your souleEuen now, now, very now, an old blacke RamIs tupping your white Ewe. Arise, arise,Awake the snorting Cittizens with the Bell,Or else the deuill will make a Grand-sire of you.Arise I say
Bra. What, haue you lost your wits?Rod. Most reuerend Signior, do you know my voice?Bra. Not I: what are you?Rod. My name is Rodorigo
Bra. The worsser welcome:I haue charg'd thee not to haunt about my doores:In honest plainenesse thou hast heard me say,My Daughter is not for thee. And now in madnesse(Being full of Supper, and distempring draughtes)Vpon malitious knauerie, dost thou comeTo start my quiet
Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir
Bra. But thou must needs be sure,My spirits and my place haue in their powerTo make this bitter to thee
Rodo. Patience good Sir
Bra. What tell'st thou me of Robbing?This is Venice: my house is not a Grange
Rodo. Most graue Brabantio,In simple and pure soule, I come to you
Ia. Sir: you are one of those that will not serue God, if the deuill bid you. Because we come to do you seruice, and you thinke we are Ruffians, you'le haue your Daughter couer'd with a Barbary horse, you'le haue your Nephewes neigh to you, you'le haue Coursers for Cozens: and Gennets for Germaines
Bra. What prophane wretch art thou?Ia. I am one Sir, that comes to tell you, your Daughterand the Moore, are making the Beast with two backs
Bra. Thou art a Villaine
Iago. You are a Senator
Bra. This thou shalt answere. I know thee Rodorigo
Rod. Sir, I will answere any thing. But I beseech youIf't be your pleasure, and most wise consent,(As partly I find it is) that your faire Daughter,At this odde Euen and dull watch o'th' nightTransported with no worse nor better guard,But with a knaue of common hire, a Gundelier,To the grosse claspes of a Lasciuious Moore:If this be knowne to you, and your Allowance,We then haue done you bold, and saucie wrongs.But if you know not this, my Manners tell me,We haue your wrong rebuke. Do not beleeueThat from the sence of all Ciuilitie,I thus would play and trifle with your Reuerence.Your Daughter (if you haue not giuen her leaue)I say againe, hath made a grosse reuolt,Tying her Dutie, Beautie, Wit, and FortunesIn an extrauagant, and wheeling Stranger,Of here, and euery where: straight satisfie your selfe.If she be in her Chamber, or your house,Let loose on me the Iustice of the StateFor thus deluding you
Bra. Strike on the Tinder, hoa:Giue me a Taper: call vp all my people,This Accident is not vnlike my dreame,Beleefe of it oppresses me alreadie.Light, I say, light.Enter.
Iag. Farewell: for I must leaue you.It seemes not meete, nor wholesome to my placeTo be producted, (as if I stay, I shall,)Against the Moore. For I do know the State,(How euer this may gall him with some checke)Cannot with safetie cast-him. For he's embark'dWith such loud reason to the Cyprus Warres,(Which euen now stands in Act) that for their soulesAnother of his Fadome, they haue none,To lead their Businesse. In which regard,Though I do hate him as I do hell paines,Yet, for necessitie of present life,I must show out a Flag, and signe of Loue,(Which is indeed but signe) that you shal surely find himLead to the Sagitary the raised Search:And there will I be with him. So farewell.
Enter.
Enter Brabantio, with Seruants and Torches.
Bra. It is too true an euill. Gone she is,And what's to come of my despised time,Is naught but bitternesse. Now Rodorigo,Where didst thou see her? (Oh vnhappie Girle)With the Moore saist thou? (Who would be a Father?)How didst thou know 'twas she? (Oh she deceaues mePast thought:) what said she to you? Get moe Tapers.Raise all my Kindred. Are they married thinke you?Rodo. Truely I thinke they are
Bra. Oh Heauen: how got she out?Oh treason of the blood.Fathers, from hence trust not your Daughters mindsBy what you see them act. Is there not Charmes,By which the propertie of Youth, and MaidhoodMay be abus'd? Haue you not read Rodorigo,Of some such thing?Rod. Yes Sir: I haue indeed
Bra. Call vp my Brother: oh would you had had her.Some one way, some another. Doe you knowWhere we may apprehend her, and the Moore?Rod. I thinke I can discouer him, if you pleaseTo get good Guard, and go along with me
Bra. Pray you lead on. At euery house Ile call,(I may command at most) get Weapons (hoa)And raise some speciall Officers of might:On good Rodorigo, I will deserue your paines.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches.
Ia. Though in the trade of Warre I haue slaine men,Yet do I hold it very stuffe o'th' conscienceTo do no contriu'd Murder: I lacke IniquitieSometime to do me seruice. Nine, or ten timesI had thought t'haue yerk'd him here vnder the Ribbes
Othello. 'Tis better as it is
Iago. Nay but he prated,And spoke such scuruy, and prouoking termesAgainst your Honor, that with the little godlinesse I haueI did full hard forbeare him. But I pray you Sir,Are you fast married? Be assur'd of this,That the Magnifico is much belou'd,And hath in his effect a voice potentiallAs double as the Dukes: He will diuorce you.Or put vpon you, what restraint or greeuance,The Law (with all his might, to enforce it on)Will giue him Cable
Othel. Let him do his spight;My Seruices, which I haue done the SignorieShall out-tongue his Complaints. 'Tis yet to know,Which when I know, that boasting is an Honour,I shall promulgate. I fetch my life and being,From Men of Royall Seige. And my demeritesMay speake (vnbonnetted) to as proud a FortuneAs this that I haue reach'd. For know Iago,But that I loue the gentle Desdemona,I would not my vnhoused free conditionPut into Circumscription, and Confine,For the Seas worth. But looke, what Lights come yond?
Enter Cassio, with Torches.
Iago. Those are the raised Father, and his Friends:You were best go in
Othel. Not I: I must be found.My Parts, my Title, and my perfect SouleShall manifest me rightly. Is it they?Iago. By Ianus, I thinke no
Othel. The Seruants of the Dukes?And my Lieutenant?The goodnesse of the Night vpon you (Friends)What is the Newes?Cassio. The Duke do's greet you (Generall)And he requires your haste, Post-haste appearance,Euen on the instant
Othello. What is the matter, thinke you?Cassio. Something from Cyprus, as I may diuine:It is a businesse of some heate. The GalliesHaue sent a dozen sequent MessengersThis very night, at one anothers heeles:And many of the Consuls, rais'd and met,Are at the Dukes already. You haue bin hotly call'd for,When being not at your Lodging to be found,The Senate hath sent about three seuerall Quests,To search you out
Othel. 'Tis well I am found by you:I will but spend a word here in the house,And goe with you
Cassio. Aunciant, what makes he heere?Iago. Faith, he to night hath boarded a Land Carract,If it proue lawfull prize, he's made for euer
Cassio. I do not vnderstand
Iago. He's married
Cassio. To who?Iago. Marry to- Come Captaine, will you go?Othel. Haue with you
Cassio. Here comes another Troope to seeke for you.
Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, with Officers, and Torches.
Iago. It is Brabantio: Generall be aduis'd,He comes to bad intent
Othello. Holla, stand there
Rodo. Signior, it is the Moore
Bra. Downe with him, Theefe
Iago. You, Rodorigo? Come Sir, I am for you
Othe. Keepe vp your bright Swords, for the dew will rust them. Good Signior, you shall more command with yeares, then with your Weapons
Bra. Oh thou foule Theefe,Where hast thou stow'd my Daughter?Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchaunted herFor Ile referre me to all things of sense,(If she in Chaines of Magick were not bound)Whether a Maid, so tender, Faire, and Happie,So opposite to Marriage, that she shun'dThe wealthy curled Deareling of our Nation,Would euer haue (t' encurre a generall mocke)Run from her Guardage to the sootie bosome,Of such a thing as thou: to feare, not to delight?Iudge me the world, if 'tis not grosse in sense,That thou hast practis'd on her with foule Charmes,Abus'd her delicate Youth, with Drugs or Minerals,That weakens Motion. Ile haue't disputed on,'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking;I therefore apprehend and do attach thee,For an abuser of the World, a practiserOf Arts inhibited, and out of warrant;Lay hold vpon him, if he do resistSubdue him, at his perill
Othe. Hold your handsBoth you of my inclining, and the rest.Were it my Cue to fight, I should haue knowne itWithout a Prompter. Whether will you that I goeTo answere this your charge?Bra. To Prison, till fit timeOf Law, and course of direct SessionCall thee to answer
Othe. What if I do obey?How may the Duke be therewith satisfi'd,Whose Messengers are heere about my side,Vpon some present businesse of the State,To bring me to him
Officer. 'Tis true most worthy Signior,The Dukes in Counsell, and your Noble selfe,I am sure is sent for
Bra. How? The Duke in Counsell?In this time of the night? Bring him away;Mine's not an idle Cause. The Duke himselfe,Or any of my Brothers of the State,Cannot but feele this wrong, as 'twere their owne:For if such Actions may haue passage free,Bond-slaues, and Pagans shall our Statesmen be.
Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Duke, Senators, and Officers.
Duke. There's no composition in this Newes,That giues them Credite
1.Sen. Indeed, they are disproportioned;My Letters say, a Hundred and seuen Gallies
Duke. And mine a Hundred fortie
2.Sena. And mine two Hundred:But though they iumpe not on a iust accompt,(As in these Cases where the ayme reports,'Tis oft with difference) yet do they all confirmeA Turkish Fleete, and bearing vp to Cyprus
Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to iudgement:I do not so secure me in the Error,But the maine Article I do approueIn fearefull sense
Saylor within. What hoa, what hoa, what hoa.
Enter Saylor.
Officer. A Messenger from the Gallies
Duke. Now? What's the businesse?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 beBy no assay of reason. 'Tis a PageantTo keepe vs in false gaze, when we considerTh' importancie of Cyprus to the Turke;And let our selues againe but vnderstand,That as it more concernes the Turke then Rhodes,So may he with more facile question beare it,For that it stands not in such Warrelike brace,But altogether lackes th' abilitiesThat Rhodes is dress'd in. If we make thought of this,We must not thinke the Turke is so vnskillfull,To leaue that latest, which concernes him first,Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gaineTo wake, and wage a danger profitlesse
Duke. Nay, in all confidence he's not for Rhodes
Officer. Here is more Newes.
Enter a Messenger.
Messen. The Ottamites, Reueren'd, and Gracious,Steering with due course toward the Ile of Rhodes,Haue there inioynted them with an after Fleete
1.Sen. I, so I thought: how many, as you guesse?Mess. Of thirtie Saile: and now they do re-stemTheir backward course, bearing with frank appearanceTheir purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,Your trustie and most Valiant Seruitour,With his free dutie, recommends you thus,And prayes you to beleeue him
Duke. 'Tis certaine then for Cyprus:Marcus Luccicos is not he in Towne?1.Sen. He's now in Florence
Duke. Write from vs,To him, Post, Post-haste, dispatch
1.Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the Valiant Moore.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Rodorigo, and Officers.
Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you,Against the generall Enemy Ottoman.I did not see you: welcome gentle Signior,We lack't your Counsaile, and your helpe to night
Bra. So did I yours: Good your Grace pardon me.Neither my place, nor ought I heard of businesseHath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the generall careTake hold on me. For my perticular griefeIs of so flood-gate, and ore-bearing Nature,That it engluts, and swallowes other sorrowes,And it is still it selfe
Duke. Why? What's the matter?Bra. My Daughter: oh my Daughter!Sen. Dead?Bra. I, to me.She is abus'd, stolne from me, and corruptedBy Spels, and Medicines, bought of Mountebanks;For Nature, so prepostrously to erre,(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,)Sans witch-craft could not
Duke. Who ere he be, that in this foule proceedingHath thus beguil'd your Daughter of her selfe,And you of her; the bloodie Booke of Law,You shall your selfe read, in the bitter letter,After your owne sense: yea, though our proper SonStood in your Action
Bra. Humbly I thanke your Grace,Here is the man; this Moore, whom now it seemesYour speciall Mandate, for the State affairesHath hither brought
All. We are verie sorry for't
Duke. What in your owne part, can you say to this?Bra. Nothing, but this is so
Othe. Most Potent, Graue, and Reueren'd Signiors,My very Noble, and approu'd good Masters;That I haue tane away this old mans Daughter,It is most true: true I haue married her;The verie head, and front of my offending,Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I, in my speech,And little bless'd with the soft phrase of Peace;For since these Armes of mine, had seuen yeares pith,Till now, some nine Moones wasted, they haue vs'dTheir deerest action, in the Tented Field:And little of this great world can I speake,More then pertaines to Feats of Broiles, and Battaile,And therefore little shall I grace my cause,In speaking for my selfe. Yet, (by your gratious patience)I will a round vn-varnish'd Tale deliuer,Of my whole course of Loue.What Drugges, what Charmes,What Coniuration, and what mighty Magicke,(For such proceeding I am charg'd withall)I won his Daughter
Bra. A Maiden, neuer bold:Of Spirit so still, and quiet, that her MotionBlush'd at her selfe, and she, in spight of Nature,Of Yeares, of Country, Credite, euery thingTo fall in Loue, with what she fear'd to looke on;It is a iudgement main'd, and most imperfect.That will confesse Perfection so could erreAgainst all rules of Nature, and must be driuenTo find out practises of cunning hellWhy this should be. I therefore vouch againe,That with some Mixtures, powrefull o're the blood,Or with some Dram, (coniur'd to this effect)He wrought vpon her.To vouch this, is no proofe,Without more wider, and more ouer TestThen these thin habits, and poore likely-hoodsOf moderne seeming, do prefer against him
Sen. But Othello, speake,Did you, by indirect, and forced coursesSubdue, and poyson this yong Maides affections?Or came it by request, and such faire questionAs soule, to soule affordeth?Othel. I do beseech you,Send for the Lady to the Sagitary,And let her speake of me before her Father;If you do finde me foule, in her report,The Trust, the Office, I do hold of you,Not onely take away, but let your SentenceEuen fall vpon my life
Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither
Othe. Aunciant, conduct them:You best know the place.And tell she come, as truely as to heauen,I do confesse the vices of my blood,So iustly to your Graue eares, Ile presentHow I did thriue in this faire Ladies loue,And she in mine
Duke. Say it Othello
Othe. Her Father lou'd me, oft inuited me:Still question'd me the Storie of my life,From yeare to yeare: the Battaile, Sieges, Fortune,That I haue past.I ran it through, euen from my boyish daies,Toth' very moment that he bad me tell it.Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances:Of mouing Accidents by Flood and Field,Of haire-breadth scapes i'th' imminent deadly breach;Of being taken by the Insolent Foe,And sold to slauery. Of my redemption thence,And portance in my Trauellours historie.Wherein of Antars vast, and Desarts idle,Rough Quarries, Rocks, Hills, whose head touch heauen,It was my hint to speake. Such was my Processe,And of the Canibals that each others eate,The Antropophague, and men whose headsGrew beneath their shoulders. These things to heare,Would Desdemona seriously incline:But still the house Affaires would draw her hence:Which euer as she could with haste dispatch,She'l'd come againe, and with a greedie eareDeuoure vp my discourse. Which I obseruing,Tooke once a pliant houre, and found good meanesTo draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,That I would all my Pilgrimage dilate,Whereof by parcels she had something heard,But not instinctiuely: I did consent,And often did beguile her of her teares,When I did speake of some distressefull strokeThat my youth suffer'd: My Storie being done,She gaue me for my paines a world of kisses:She swore in faith 'twas strange: 'twas passing strange,'Twas pittifull: 'twas wondrous pittifull.She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'dThat Heauen had made her such a man. She thank'd me,And bad me, if I had a Friend that lou'd her,I should but teach him how to tell my Story,And that would wooe her. Vpon this hint I spake,She lou'd me for the dangers I had past,And I lou'd her, that she did pitty them.This onely is the witch-craft I haue vs'd.Here comes the Ladie: Let her witnesse it.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Attendants.
Duke. I thinke this tale would win my Daughter too,Good Brabantio, take vp this mangled matter at the best:Men do their broken Weapons rather vse,Then their bare hands
Bra. I pray you heare her speake?If she confesse that she was halfe the wooer,Destruction on my head, if my bad blameLight on the man. Come hither gentle Mistris,Do you perceiue in all this Noble Companie,Where most you owe obedience?Des. My Noble Father,I do perceiue heere a diuided dutie.To you I am bound for life, and education:My life and education both do learne me,How to respect you. You are the Lord of duty,I am hitherto your Daughter. But heere's my Husband;And so much dutie, as my Mother shew'dTo you, preferring you before her Father:So much I challenge, that I may professeDue to the Moore my Lord
Bra. God be with you: I haue done.Please it your Grace, on to the State Affaires;I had rather to adopt a Child, then get it.Come hither Moore;I here do giue thee that with all my heart,Which but thou hast already, with all my heartI would keepe from thee. For your sake (Iewell)I am glad at soule, I haue no other Child,For thy escape would teach me TirranieTo hang clogges on them. I haue done my Lord
Duke. Let me speake like your selfe:And lay a Sentence,Which as a grise, or step may helpe these Louers.When remedies are past, the griefes are endedBy seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.To mourne a Mischeefe that is past and gon,Is the next way to draw new mischiefe on.What cannot be preseru'd, when Fortune takes:Patience, her Iniury a mock'ry makes.The rob'd that smiles, steales something from the Thiefe,He robs himselfe, that spends a bootelesse griefe
Bra. So let the Turke of Cyprus vs beguile,We loose it not so long as we can smile:He beares the Sentence well, that nothing beares,But the free comfort which from thence he heares.But he beares both the Sentence, and the sorrow,That to pay griefe, must of poore Patience borrow.These Sentences, to Sugar, or to Gall,Being strong on both sides, are Equiuocall.But words are words, I neuer yet did heare:That the bruized heart was pierc'd through the eares.I humbly beseech you proceed to th' Affaires of State
Duke. The Turke with a most mighty Preparation makes for Cyprus: Othello, the Fortitude of the place is best knowne to you. And though we haue there a Substitute of most allowed sufficiencie; yet opinion, a more soueraigne Mistris of Effects, throwes a more safer voice on you: you must therefore be content to slubber the glosse of your new Fortunes, with this more stubborne, and boystrous expedition
Othe. The Tirant Custome, most Graue Senators,Hath made the flinty and Steele Coach of WarreMy thrice-driuen bed of Downe. I do agnizeA Naturall and prompt Alacratie,I finde in hardnesse: and do vndertakeThis present Warres against the Ottamites.Most humbly therefore bending to your State,I craue fit disposition for my Wife,Due reference of Place, and Exhibition,With such Accomodation and besortAs leuels with her breeding
Duke. Why at her Fathers?Bra. I will not haue it so
Othe. Nor I
Des. Nor would I there recide,To put my Father in impatient thoughtsBy being in his eye. Most Gracious Duke,To my vnfolding, lend your prosperous eare,And let me finde a Charter in your voiceT' assist my simplenesse
Duke. What would you Desdemona?Des. That I loue the Moore, to liue with him,My downe-right violence, and storme of Fortunes,May trumpet to the world. My heart's subdu'dEuen to the very quality of my Lord;I saw Othello's visage in his mind,And to his Honours and his valiant parts,Did I my soule and Fortunes consecrate.So that (deere Lords) if I be left behindA Moth of Peace, and he go to the Warre,The Rites for why I loue him, are bereft me:And I a heauie interim shall supportBy his deere absence. Let me go with him
Othe. Let her haue your voice.Vouch with me Heauen, I therefore beg it notTo please the pallate of my Appetite:Nor to comply with heat the yong affectsIn my defunct, and proper satisfaction.But to be free, and bounteous to her minde:And Heauen defend your good soules, that you thinkeI will your serious and great businesse scantWhen she is with me. No, when light wing'd ToyesOf feather'd Cupid, seele with wanton dulnesseMy speculatiue, and offic'd Instrument:That my Disports corrupt, and taint my businesse:Let House-wiues make a Skillet of my Helme,And all indigne, and base aduersities,Make head against my Estimation
Duke. Be it as you shall priuately determine,Either for her stay, or going: th' Affaire cries hast:And speed must answer it
Sen. You must away to night
Othe. With all my heart
Duke. At nine i'th' morning, here wee'l meete againe.Othello, leaue some Officer behindAnd he shall our Commission bring to you:And such things else of qualitie and respectAs doth import you
Othe. So please your Grace, my Ancient,A man he is of honesty and trust:To his conueyance I assigne my wife,With what else needfull, your good Grace shall thinkTo be sent after me
Duke. Let it be so:Good night to euery one. And Noble Signior,If Vertue no delighted Beautie lacke,Your Son-in-law is farre more Faire then Blacke
Sen. Adieu braue Moore, vse Desdemona well
Bra. Looke to her (Moore) if thou hast eies to see:She ha's deceiu'd her Father, and may thee.Enter.
Othe. My life vpon her faith. Honest Iago,My Desdemona must I leaue to thee:I prythee let thy wife attend on her,And bring them after in the best aduantage.Come Desdemona, I haue but an houreOf Loue, of wordly matter, and directionTo spend with thee. We must obey the time.Enter.
Rod. Iago
Iago. What saist thou Noble heart?Rod. What will I do, think'st thou?Iago. Why go to bed and sleepe
Rod. I will incontinently drowne my selfe
Iago. If thou do'st, I shall neuer loue thee after. Why thou silly Gentleman? Rod. It is sillynesse to liue, when to liue is torment: and then haue we a prescription to dye, when death is our Physition
Iago. Oh villanous: I haue look'd vpon the world for foure times seuen yeares, and since I could distinguish betwixt a Benefit, and an Iniurie: I neuer found man that knew how to loue himselfe. Ere I would say, I would drowne my selfe for the loue of a Gynney Hen, I would change my Humanity with a Baboone
Rod. What should I do? I confesse it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my vertue to amend it
Iago. Vertue? A figge, 'tis in our selues that we are thus, or thus. Our Bodies are our Gardens, to the which, our Wills are Gardiners. So that if we will plant Nettels, or sowe Lettice: Set Hisope, and weede vp Time: Supplie it with one gender of Hearbes, or distract it with many: either to haue it sterrill with idlenesse, or manured with Industry, why the power, and Corrigeable authoritie of this lies in our Wills. If the braine of our liues had not one Scale of Reason, to poize another of Sensualitie, the blood, and basenesse of our Natures would conduct vs to most prepostrous Conclusions. But we haue Reason to coole our raging Motions, our carnall Stings, or vnbitted Lusts: whereof I take this, that you call Loue, to be a Sect, or Seyen
Rod. It cannot be
Iago. It is meerly a Lust of the blood, and a permission of the will. Come, be a man: drowne thy selfe? Drown Cats, and blind Puppies. I haue profest me thy Friend, and I confesse me knit to thy deseruing, with Cables of perdurable toughnesse. I could neuer better steed thee then now. Put Money in thy purse: follow thou the Warres, defeate thy fauour, with an vsurp'd Beard. I say put Money in thy purse. It cannot be long that Desdemona should continue her loue to the Moore. Put Money in thy purse: nor he his to her. It was a violent Commencement in her, and thou shalt see an answerable Sequestration, put but Money in thy purse. These Moores are changeable in their wils: fill thy purse with Money. The Food that to him now is as lushious as Locusts, shalbe to him shortly, as bitter as Coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body she will find the errors of her choice. Therefore, put Money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damne thy selfe, do it a more delicate way then drowning. Make all the Money thou canst: If Sanctimonie, and a fraile vow, betwixt an erring Barbarian, and super-subtle Venetian be not too hard for my wits, and all the Tribe of hell, thou shalt enioy her: therefore make Money: a pox of drowning thy selfe, it is cleane out of the way. Seeke thou rather to be hang'd in Compassing thy ioy, then to be drown'd, and go without her
Rodo. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue? Iago. Thou art sure of me: Go make Money: I haue told thee often, and I re-tell thee againe, and againe, I hate the Moore. My cause is hearted; thine hath no lesse reason. Let vs be coniunctiue in our reuenge, against him. If thou canst Cuckold him, thou dost thy selfe a pleasure, me a sport. There are many Euents in the Wombe of Time, which wilbe deliuered. Trauerse, go, prouide thy Money. We will haue more of this to morrow. Adieu
Rod. Where shall we meete i'th' morning?Iago. At my Lodging
Rod. Ile be with thee betimes
Iago. Go too, farewell. Do you heare Rodorigo?Rod. Ile sell all my Land.Enter.
Iago. Thus do I euer make my Foole, my purse:For I mine owne gain'd knowledge should prophaneIf I would time expend with such Snipe,But for my Sport, and Profit: I hate the Moore,And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheetsShe ha's done my Office. I know not if't be true,But I, for meere suspition in that kinde,Will do, as if for Surety. He holds me well,The better shall my purpose worke on him:Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now,To get his Place, and to plume vp my willIn double Knauery. How? How? Let's see.After some time, to abuse Othello's eares,That he is too familiar with his wife:He hath a person, and a smooth disposeTo be suspected: fram'd to make women false.The Moore is of a free, and open Nature,That thinkes men honest, that but seeme to be so,And will as tenderly be lead by'th' NoseAs Asses are:I hau't: it is engendred: Hell, and Night,Must bring this monstrous Birth, to the worlds light.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Montano, and two Gentlemen.
Mon. What from the Cape, can you discerne at Sea?1.Gent. Nothing at all, it is a high wrought Flood:I cannot 'twixt the Heauen, and the Maine,Descry a Saile
Mon. Me thinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at Land,A fuller blast ne're shooke our Battlements:If it hath ruffiand so vpon the Sea,What ribbes of Oake, when Mountaines melt on them,Can hold the Morties. What shall we heare of this?2 A Segregation of the Turkish Fleet:For do but stand vpon the Foaming Shore,The chidden Billow seemes to pelt the Clowds,The winde-shak'd-Surge, with high & monstrous MaineSeemes to cast water on the burning Beare,And quench the Guards of th' euer-fixed Pole:I neuer did like mollestation viewOn the enchafed Flood
Men. If that the Turkish FleeteBe not enshelter'd, and embay'd, they are drown'd,It is impossible to beare it out.Enter a Gentleman.
3 Newes Laddes: our warres are done:The desperate Tempest hath so bang'd the Turkes,That their designement halts. A Noble ship of Venice,Hath seene a greeuous wracke and sufferanceOn most part of their Fleet
Mon. How? Is this true?3 The Ship is heere put in: A Verennessa, Michael CassioLieutenant to the warlike Moore, Othello,Is come on Shore: the Moore himselfe at Sea,And is in full Commission heere for Cyprus
Mon. I am glad on't:'Tis a worthy Gouernour
3 But this same Cassio, though he speake of comfort,Touching the Turkish losse, yet he lookes sadly,And praye the Moore be safe; for they were partedWith fowle and violent Tempest
Mon. Pray Heauens he be:For I haue seru'd him, and the man commandsLike a full Soldier. Let's to the Sea-side (hoa)As well to see the Vessell that's come in,As to throw-out our eyes for braue Othello,Euen till we make the Maine, and th' Eriall blew,An indistinct regard
Gent. Come, let's do so;For euery Minute is expectancieOf more Arriuancie.Enter Cassio.
Cassi. Thankes you, the valiant of the warlike Isle,That so approoue the Moore: Oh let the HeauensGiue him defence against the Elements,For I haue lost him on a dangerous Sea
Mon. Is he well ship'd?Cassio. His Barke is stoutly Timber'd, and his PylotOf verie expert, and approu'd Allowance;Therefore my hope's (not surfetted to death)Stand in bold Cure
Within. A Saile, a Saile, a Saile
Cassio. What noise?Gent. The Towne is empty; on the brow o'th' SeaStand rankes of People and they cry, a Saile
Cassio. My hopes do shape him for the Gouernor
Gent. They do discharge their Shot of Courtesie,Our Friends, at least
Cassio. I pray you Sir, go forth,And giue vs truth who 'tis that is arriu'd
Gent. I shall.Enter.
Mon. But good Lieutenant, is your Generall wiu'd?Cassio. Most fortunately: he hath atchieu'd a MaidThat paragons description, and wilde Fame:One that excels the quirkes of Blazoning pens,And in th' essentiall Vesture of Creation,Do's tyre the Ingeniuer.Enter Gentleman.
How now? Who ha's put in?Gent. 'Tis one Iago, Auncient to the Generall
Cassio. Ha's had most fauourable, and happie speed:Tempests themselues, high Seas, and howling windes,The gutter'd-Rockes, and Congregated Sands,Traitors ensteep'd, to enclogge the guiltlesse Keele,As hauing sence of Beautie, do omitTheir mortall Natures, letting go safely byThe Diuine Desdemona
Mon. What is she?Cassio. She that I spake of:Our great Captains Captaine,Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,Whose footing heere anticipates our thoughts,A Senights speed. Great Ioue, Othello guard,And swell his Saile with thine owne powrefull breath,That he may blesse this Bay with his tall Ship,Make loues quicke pants in Desdemonaes Armes,Giue renew'd fire to our extincted Spirits.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Aemilia.
Oh behold,The Riches of the Ship is come on shore:You men of Cyprus, let her haue your knees.Haile to thee Ladie: and the grace of Heauen,Before, behinde thee, and on euery handEnwheele thee round
Des. I thanke you, Valiant Cassio,What tydings can you tell of my Lord?Cas. He is not yet arriu'd, nor know I oughtBut that he's well, and will be shortly heere
Des. Oh, but I feare:How lost you company?Cassio. The great Contention of Sea, and SkiesParted our fellowship. But hearke, a Saile
Within. A Saile, a Saile
Gent. They giue this greeting to the Cittadell:This likewise is a Friend
Cassio. See for the Newes:Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome Mistris:Let it not gaule your patience (good Iago)That I extend my Manners. 'Tis my breeding,That giues me this bold shew of Curtesie
Iago. Sir, would she giue you so much of her lippes,As of her tongue she oft bestowes on me,You would haue enough
Des. Alas: she ha's no speech
Iago. Infaith too much:I finde it still, when I haue leaue to sleepe.Marry before your Ladyship, I grant,She puts her tongue a little in her heart,And chides with thinking
aemil. You haue little cause to say so
Iago. Come on, come on: you are Pictures out ofdoore: Bells in your Parlours: Wilde-Cats in your Kitchens:Saints in your Iniuries: Diuels being offended:Players in your Huswiferie, and Huswiues in yourBeds