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 ruffianed so upon the sea,

What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
Can hold the mortise? what shall we hear of this?

2 Gent. A segregation of the Turkish fleet.
For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds;
The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous main,
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.

Mon.

If that the Turkish fleet

Be not ensheltered and embayed, they are drowned; It is impossible they bear it out.

Enter a third Gentleman.

3 Gent. News, lords! our wars are done;

The desperate tempest hath so banged the Turks,

That their designment halts. A noble ship of Venice

Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance

On most part of their fleet.

Mon.

How! is this true ?

3 Gent. The ship is here put in,

A Veronesé; 5 Michael Cassio,

1 The quarto reads :

66

'twixt the haven and the main; "

and Malone adopts that reading.

2 The quarto of 1622 reads, "when the huge mountaine meslt," the letter s, which, perhaps, belongs to mountaine, having wandered, at press, from its place. In Troilus and Cressida we have:

"The strong-ribbed bark through liquid mountains cuts."

3 The elder quarto reads "the banning shore."

4 The constellation near the polar star. The next line alludes to the star Arctophylax, which literally signifies the guard of the bear. The 4to. 1622 reads "ever-fired pole."

5 The old copy reads "a Veronessa; " whether this signified a ship fitted out by the people of Verona, who were tributary to the Venetian republic, or designated some particular kind of vessel, is not yet established.

VOL. VII.

54

Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello,
Is come on shore; the Moor himself's at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

Mon. I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.
3 Gent. But this same Cassio,-though he speak of

comfort,

Touching the Turkish loss,-yet he looks sadly,
And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.

Mon.

'Pray Heaven, he be;

For I have served him, and the man commands
Like a full1 soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!

As well to see the vessel that's come in,

As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello;

Even till we make the main, and the aerial blue,

An indistinct regard.

3 Gent.

Come, let's do so;

For every minute is expectancy

Of more arrivance.

Enter CASSIO.

Cas. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle,
That so approve the Moor. O, let the Heavens
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea!
Mon. Is he well shipped ?

Cas. His bark is stoutly timbered, and his pilot

Of very expert and approved allowance; 2
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.3

[Within.]

A sail, a sail, a sail!

Enter another Gentleman.

Cas. What noise?

4 Gent. The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea

Stand ranks of people, and they cry-A sail.

Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor. 2 Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy ;

Our friends, at least.
Cas.

[Guns heard.

I pray you, sir, go forth,

And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.

2 Gent. I shall.

[Exit.

Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?

Cas. Most fortunately. He hath achieved a maid

That paragons description, and wild fame;

One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,

And in the essential vesture of creation,

Does bear all excellency. -How now? who has

put in ?

Re-enter second Gentleman.

2 Gent. 'Tis one lago, ancient to the general. Cas. He has had most favorable and happy speed. Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The guttered rocks, and congregated sands,Traitors ensteeped to clog the guiltless keel, As having sense of beauty, do omit

Their mortal natures, letting go safely by

The divine Desdemona.

Mon.

What is she?

Cas. She that I spake of, our great captain's

captain,

Left in the conduct of the bold Iago ;

Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts,

A se'nnight's speed.-Great Jove, Othello guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath ;
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,

Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
Give renewed fire to our extincted spirits,
And bring all Cyprus comfort!-O, behold,

Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and

Attendants.

The riches of the ship is come on shore!1

Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.

Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of Heaven,

Before, behind thee, and on every hand,

Enwheel thee round!

Des.

I thank you, valiant Cassio.

What tidings can you tell me of my lord ?

Cas. He is not yet arrived; nor know I aught

But that he's well, and will be shortly here.

Des. O, but I fear ;-How lost you company?
Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies

Parted our fellowship. But, hark! a sail.

[Cry within, A sail, a sail! then guns heard.

2 Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel; This likewise is a friend. Cas.

See for the news.2

[Exit Gentleman. Good ancient, you are welcoine; -welcome, mis[To EMILIA.

tress.

Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding

That gives me this bold show of courtesy.

[Kissing her.

Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips

As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,

You'd have enough.

Des.

Alas, she has no speech.

Iago. In faith, too much;

I find it still, when I have list to sleep.

Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,

She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.

Emil.

You have little cause to say so. Iago. Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,

Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries,1 devils being offended,

Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your

beds.

Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer!

Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk;

You rise to play, and go to bed to work.

Emil. You shall not write my praise.

Iago.

No, let me not.

Des. What wouldst thou write of me, if thou

shouldst praise me?

Iago. O gentle lady, do not put me to't;

For I am nothing, if not critical.2

}

Des. Come on, assay; there's one gone to the

harbor?

Iago. Ay, madam.

Des. I am not merry; but I do beguile

The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.-
Come, how wouldst thou praise me ?

Iago. I am about it; but, indeed, my invention
Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frize,
It plucks it out brains and all. But my muse labors,
And thus she is delivered :-

If she be fair and wise, fairness, and wit,

The one's for use, the other useth it.

Des. Well praised! How if she be black and witty?
Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit,

She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.3
Des. Worse and worse.

Emil. How, if fair and foolish ?

Iago. She never yet was foolish that was fair,

For even her folly helped her to an heir.