Act I. Sc. iii.

TRAGEDY OF OTHEL

Oth.

Duke.

And he shall our commission bring to you;

With such things else of quality and respect

As doth import you.

So please your grace, my anc

A man he is of honesty and trust :

To his conveyance I assign my wife,

With what else needful your good grace shall th

To be sent after me.

Let it be so.

Good night to every one. [To Brab.] And,

signior,

If virtue no delighted beauty lack,

Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. First Sen. Adieu, brave Moor; use Desdemona well. Bra. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: She has deceived her father, and may thee.

[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers,

Oth. My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,
My Desdemoma must I leave to thee :
I prithee, 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.

Rod. Iago!

[Exeunt Othello and Desde

lago. What say'st thou, noble heart?

Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou ?

lago. Why, go to bed and sleep.

Rod. I will incontinently drown myself.

lago. If thou dost, I shall never love thee after Why, thou silly gentleman !

Rod. It is silliness to live when to live is torment;

and then have we a prescription to die when 310 death is our physician.

lago. O villanous! I have looked upon the world for four times seven years; and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found 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 my virtue to 320 amend it.

lago. Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are 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 wills. If the balance of our lives had not 330 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.

lago. It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man: drown thyself! 340

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 thou the wars ;
defeat thy favour with an 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 350
shalt see an answerable sequestration; put but
money in thy purse. These Moors are change-
able 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 colo-
quintida. 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 360
than drowning. Make all the money thou canst :
if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring
barbarian and a supersubtle 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 compass-
ing thy joy than to be drowned and go without
her.

Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on 370 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, 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- 380
morrow. Adieu.

Rod. Where shall we meet i' the morning?

lago. At my lodging.

Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.

lago. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

Rod. What say you?

lago. No more of drowning, do you hear?

Rod. I am changed: I'll go sell all my land.

[Exit.

lago. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;

For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane, 390

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
In double knavery-How, how? - Let's see :-
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear
That he is too familiar with his wife.

400

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

As asses are.

I have 't. It is engender'd. Hell and night

Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.

[Exit.

ACT SECOND.

Scene I.

A sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.
Enter Montano and two Gentlemen.

Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea?
First 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,
Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?

Sec. Gent. 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.