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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 fhip is here put in, A Veroneffa; Michael Cafio,

Lieutenant of the warlike Moor Othello,

Is come on fhore; the Moor himself's at feå,
And is in full commiffion here for Cyprus.

Mont. I'm glad on't; 'tis a worthy Governor..
3 Gent. But this fame Caffia, though he fpeak of comfort,
Touching the Turkish lofs, yet he looks fadly,
And prays the Moor be fafe; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempeft.


Mont. Pray heav'ns, he be:
For I have ferv'd him, and the commands
Like a full foldier. Let's to the fea-fide,
As well to see the veffel that's come in,
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,


Another Ship of Venice

Hath feen a grievous wreck, &c.] But no Ship, before this, has arrived, or brought any Account of the Turkish Fleet's Diftrefs: How then can this be called another Ship? Oh, but the eldest Quarto has called 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 restored to the Text;

A noble Ship of Venice,

Ev'n till we make the main and th' aerial blue
An indiftin&t regard.

Gent. Come, let's do so;

For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.

Enter Caffio.

Caf. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike ifte,
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 approved allowance;
Therefore my hopes, not furfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.

Within.] A fail, a fail, a fait!
Caf. What noife?

Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o'th' fea Stand ranks of people, and they cry, a Sail.

Caf. My hopes do fhape him for the Governor. Gent. They do difcharge their fhot of courtefy : Our friends, at least.

Caf. I pray you, Sir, go forth,

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

Gent. I fhall.


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

That paragons defcription and wild fame :
One that excels the quirks of blaz'ning pens,
And in th' effential vefture of creation

Does bear all excellency

Enter Gentleman.

How now? who has put in?

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

Their mortal natures, letting fafe go by
The divine Desdemona.

Mont. What is she?

Caf. She that I'fpake of, our great Captain's Captain, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago;

Whofe footing here anticipates our thoughts,
A fe'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard!
And fwell his fail with thine own powerful breath,
That he may blefs this bay with his tall ship,
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extinguish'd fpirits,
And bring all Cyprus comfort-

Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Æmilia.

O behold!

The riches of the fhip is come on shore:
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heav'n,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand
Enwheel thee round.

Def. I thank you, valiant Caffio,

What tidings can you tell me of my Lord?
Caf. He is not yet arriv'd, nor know I aught
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.
Def. O, but I fear-how loft you company?.
Caf. The great contention of the fea and fkies
Parted our fellowship. But, hark, a fail!
Within.] A fail, a fail!

Gent. They give this greeting to the citadel:
This likewife is a friend.

Caf. See for the news:

Good ancient, you are welcome. Welcome, mistress.

Let it not gall your patience, good lago,

[To Emilia,

That I extend my manners. Tis my breeding,
That gives me this bold fhew of courtesy.

lago. Sir, would fhe give you so much of her lips, As of her tongue the oft beftows on me,

You'd have enough.

Def. Alas! fhe has no fpeech.

Iago. In faith, too much;

I find it ftill, when I have lift to fleep;
Marry, before your ladyfhip, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.

Emil. You have little caufe to say so.

Iago. Come on, come on; you're pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild-cats in your kitchens, Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds! Def. O, fy upon thee, flanderer!

Iago. Nay, it is true, or elfe I am a Turk; You rife to play, and go to bed to work. Emil. You fhall not write my praise.

Iago. No, let me not.

Def. What wouldft thou write of me, if thou shou❜dft praise me?

Iago. Oh gentle lady, do not put me to't, For I am nothing, if not critical.

Def. Come, one affay. There's one gone to the harbour

Iago. Ay, Madam.

Def. I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by feeming otherwise ;Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

Iago. I am about it; but, indeed, my invention comes from my pate, as birdlime does from freeze, it plucks out brains and all. But my mufe labours, and thus fhe is delivered.

If he be fair and wife, fairness and wit,"

The one's for ufe, the other ufeth it.

Def. Well prais'd; how if she be black and witty?

Iago. If he be black, and thereto have a wit,

She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.

Def. Worfe and worse.

Emil. How, if fair and foolish?

Iago. She never yet was foolish, that was fair;
For ev'n her folly helpt her to an heir:

Def. These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools laugh i'th' alehouse. What miferable praise haft thou for her that's foul and foolish?

Iago. There's none fo foul and foolish thereunto,

But does foul pranks, which fair and wife ones do.

Def. Oh heavy ignorance! thou praifeft the worft beft. But what praife couldft thou beftow on a deferving woman indeed? (14) one, that in the authority of her merit, did justly put down the vouch of very malice itfelf?

Iago. She that was ever fair, and never proud,

Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud;
Never lackt gold, and yet never went gay,
Fled from her wifh, and yet faid, now I may;
She that when anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong ftay, and her difpleasure fly;
She that in wisdom never was fo frail
To change the cod's head for the jalmon's tail;
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See fuitors following, and not look behind;

She was a wight, (if ever fuch wight were) —

Def. To do what?

Iago. To fuckle fools, and chronicle fmall beer.
Def. Oh moft lame and impotent conclufion! do not

(14) One, that in the Authority of her Merit, did jufly put on the Vouch of very Malice itself.] Though all the printed Copies agree in this Reading, I cannot help fufpecting it. If the Text fhould be genuine, I confefs, it is above my Understanding. In what Senfe can Merit be faid to put on the Vouch of Malice? I fhould rather think, Merit was fo fafe in itself, as to repel and put off all that Malice and Envy could advance and affirm to its Prejudice. I have ventured to reform the Text to this Conftruction, by a very flight Change that makes it intelligible.


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