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 hand Enwheele 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 ought But 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 Skies Parted 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 of doore: Bells in your Parlours: Wilde-Cats in your Kitchens: Saints in your Iniuries: Diuels being offended: Players in your Huswiferie, and Huswiues in your Beds

Des. Oh, fie vpon thee, Slanderer

Iago. Nay, it is true: or else I am a Turke, You rise to play, and go to bed to worke. Aemil. You shall not write my praise

Iago. No, let me not

Desde. What would'st write of me, if thou should'st praise me? Iago. Oh, gentle Lady, do not put me too't, For I am nothing, if not Criticall

Des. Come on, assay. There's one gone to the Harbour? Iago. I 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 inuention comes from my pate, as Birdlyme do's from Freeze, it pluckes out Braines and all. But my Muse labours, and thus she is deliuer'd. If she be faire, and wise: fairenesse, and wit, The ones for vse, the other vseth it

Des. Well prais'd: How if she be Blacke and Witty? Iago. If she be blacke, and thereto haue a wit, She'le find a white, that shall her blacknesse fit

Des. Worse, and worse. Aemil. How if Faire, and Foolish? Iago. She neuer yet was foolish that was faire, For euen her folly helpt her to an heire

Desde. These are old fond Paradoxes, to make Fooles laugh i'th' Alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's Foule, and Foolish

Iago. There's none so foule and foolish thereunto, But do's foule pranks, which faire, and wise-ones do

Desde. Oh heauy ignorance: thou praisest the worst best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a deseruing woman indeed? One, that in the authorithy of her merit, did iustly put on the vouch of very malice it selfe

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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