one scale of reafon to poife another of fenfuality, the blood and bafenefs of our natures would conduct us to

moft prepofterous conclufions. But we have reason, to cool our raging motions, our carnal ftings, our unbitted lufts; whereof I take this, that you call love, to be a fect, or fyen.

Rod. It cannot be.

Iago. It is meerly a luft of the blood, and a permiffion of the will. Come, be a man: drown thy felf? drown cats and blind puppies. I have profeft me thy friend, and I confefs me knit to thy deferving with cables of perdurable toughness. I could never better feed thee than now. Put mony in thy purfe; follow thou these wars; defeat thy favour with an ufurped beard; I fay, put mony in thy purfe. It cannot be, that Desdemona fhould long continue her love to the Moor put mony in thy purse nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement in her, and thou fhalt fee an answerable fequeftration, put but mony in thy purfe. Thefe Moors are changeable in their wills; fill thy purfe with mony. The food, that to him now is as luscious as locufts, fhall fhortly be as bitter as coloquintida. When she is fated with his body, fhe will find the errors of her choice. She must have change, the must therefore put mony in thy purfe. If thou wilt needs damn thy felf, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the mony thou canft. If fanctimony and a frail vow, betwixt an erring Barbarian and a fuper-fubtle Venetian, be not too hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore make mony. A pox of drowning thyfelf! it is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be hang'd in compaffing thy joy, than to be drown'd and go without her.

Rod. Wilt thou be faft to my hopes, if I depend on the iffue?

the Beam and Balance, ufing the latter to fignify the Scales; and the former, the fteel Bar to which they are hung, and which poifes them,

Lago.

Iago. Thou art fure of me. -Go, make mony. I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor. My caufe is hearted; thine hath no lefs reafon. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him. If thou canft cuckold him, thou doft thy felf a pleasure, and me a fport. There are many events in the womb of time, which will be delivered. Traverse, go, provide thy mony. We will have more of this tomorrow. Adieu.

Rod. Where shall we meet i'th' morning?
Iago. At my lodging.

Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.

Iago. Go to, farewel. Do you hear, Rodorigo?
Rod. What fay you?

lago. No more of drowning, do you hear.
Rod. I am chang'd; I'll go fell all my land.

Manet Iago.

land. [Exit.

Iago. Go to, farewel, put mony enough in your purseThus do I ever make my fool my purfe;

For I mine own gain'd knowledge fhould profane,
If I should time expend with fuch a fnipe,
But for my fport and profit. I hate the Moor,
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my fheets
He has done my office. I know not, if't be true
But I, for meer fufpicion in that kind,

Will do, as if for furety. He holds me well-
The better shall my purpose work on him;
Caffio's a proper man: let me fee now;
To get his place, and to plume up my Will,
A double knavery. How? how?-let's fee-
After fome time, t'abufe Othello's ear,
That he is too familiar with his wife-
He hath a perfon, and a smooth difpofe,
To be fufpected; fram'd to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honeft that but feem to be fo;
And will as tenderly be led by th' nose,
As affes are:

I hav't

I hav't-it is ingendred-Hell and Night

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

[Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE, The capital City of Cyprus.

Enter Montano Governor of Cyprus, and Gentlemen.

MONTANO.

HAT from the cape can you difcern at sea?

WHA 1 Gent. Nothing at all, it is a high-wrought

flood;

I cannot 'twixt the heaven and the main

Defcry a fail.

Mont. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; A fuller blaft ne'er fhook our battlements;

If it hath ruffian'd fo upon the fea,

What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, (13)
Can hold the mortife? what fhall we hear of this?
2 Gent. A fegregation of the Turkish fleet;

For do but ftand upon the foaming fhore,
The chiding billows feem to pelt the clouds ;

The wind-fhak'd furge, with high a d monstrous main,
Seems to caft water on the burning Bear,

And quench the guards of th' ever-fired pole;

(13) What ribs of Oak, when the huge Mountains melt,

Can hold the mortife? ] This is an arbitrary Change of Mr. Pope's, without any Authority or Reason, but the smoothing the Verfification. But, I am afraid, this great Critick was dreaming of Mountains at Land; and thefe, he thought, could not well melt on Ribs of Oak (i. e.) Ships) at Sea. But our Poet happens to mean, Waves as big as Mountains; and these are often known to melt on Ships; nor is any Metaphor more common in Poetry.

I never

I never did like moleftation view
On the enchafed flood.

Mont. If that the Turkish fleet

Be not infhelter'd and embay'd, they're drown'd;
It is impoffible to bear it out.

Enter a third Gentleman.'

3 Gent. News, lords, our wars are done : The defperate tempeft hath fo bang'd the Turks, That their defignment halts. A noble fhip of Venice (14) Hath feen a grievous wreck and fufferance

On most part of the fleet.

Mont. How is this true?

3 Gent. The Ship is here put in,

A Veroneffa; Michael Caffio,

Lieutenant of the warlike Moor Othello,

Is come on fhore; the Moor himself's at fea,

And is in full commiffion here for Cyprus.

Mont, I'm glad on't; 'tis a worthy Governor.

3 Gent. But this fame Caffio, though he speak of comfort,

Touching the Turkish lofs, yet he looks fadly,

And prays the Moor be fafe; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.

Mont. Pray heav'ns, he be:

For I have ferv'd him, and the man commands
Like a full foldier. Let's to the fea-fide,

As well to fee the veffel that's come in,
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,

(14)- Another Ship of Venice

Hath feen a grievous wreck, &c.] But no Ship, before this, has arriv'd, or brought any Account of the Turkish Fleet's Diftrefs: How then can This be call'd another Ship? Oh, bur the eldeft Quarto has call'd it fo; and, if there be a various Reading, Mr. Pope is pretty good at taking the wrong one. The two elder Folio's and the Quarto in 1630 read, as I have reftor'd to the Text;

A noble Ship of Venice.

Even till we make the main and th' aerial blue

An indiftinct regard.

Gent. Come, let's do fo;

For every minute is expectancy

Of more arrivance.

Enter Caffio.

Caf. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike ifle,
That fo approve the Moor: oh, let the heav'ns
Give him defence against the elements,

For I have loft him on a dangerous fea.
Mont. Is he well fhipp'd?

Caf. His bark is ftoutly timber'd, and his pilot
Of very expert and approv'd allowance ;
Therefore my hopes, not furfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.

Within.] A fail, a fail, a fail!

Caf. What noise ?

Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o'th' fea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry, a fail.
Caf. My hopes do fhape him for the Governor.
Gent. They do discharge their fhot of courtefie:
Our friends, at least.

Caf. I pray you, Sir, go forth,

And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd.

Gent. I fhall.

[Exit.

Mont. But, good lieutenant, is your General wiv'd?
Caf. Moft fortunately, he hath atchiev'd a maid

That paragons description and wild fame :

One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
And in th' effential vefture of creation

Do's bear all excellency

Enter Gentleman.

How now? who has put in?

Gent. 'Tis one Iago, Ancient to the General. Caf. H'as had most favorable and happy speed; Tempefts themselves, high feas, and howling winds; The gutter'd rocks, and congregated fands, (Traitors enfteep'd to clog the guiltless keel;) As having fenfe of beauty, do omit