At my lodging.

ROD. I'll be with thee betimes.

IAGO. Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

[ROD. What say you?

IAGO. No more of drowning, do you hear?

ROD. I am chang'd.

IAGO. Go to, farewell. Put money enough in your purse.]

ROD. I'll sell all my land.

 

Exit.

 

IAGO.

Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;

For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane

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

[H'as] 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.

He hath a person and a smooth dispose

To be suspected – fram'd 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 th' nose

As asses are.

I have't. It is engend'red. Hell and night

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

 

[Exit.]

 

 

Act II,

Scene I

Enter Montano and two Gentlemen.

 

MON.

What from the cape can you discern at sea?

1. 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?

2. 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-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous mane,

Seems to cast water on the burning Bear,

And quench the guards of th' ever-fixed Pole;

I never did like molestation view

On the enchafed flood.

MON.

If that the Turkish fleet

Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd;

It is impossible to bear it out.

 

Enter a [third] Gentleman.

 

3. GENT.

News, lads! our wars are done.

The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,

That their designment halts. A noble ship of Venice

Hath seen a grievous wrack and sufferance

On most part of their fleet.

MON.

How? is this true?

3. GENT.

The ship is here put in,

A Veronesa; Michael Cassio,

Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,

Is come on shore; the Moor himself 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 serv'd him, and the man commands

Like a full soldier. Let's to the sea-side, 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 th' aerial blue

An indistinct regard.

[3.] GENT.

Come, let's do so;

For every minute is expectancy

Of more [arrivance].

 

Enter Cassio.

 

CAS.

Thanks you, the valiant of [this] warlike isle,

That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens

Give him defense against the elements,

For I have lost him on a dangerous sea.

MON.

Is he well shipp'd?

CAS.

His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot

Of very expert and approv'd allowance;

Therefore my hopes (not surfeited to death)

Stand in bold cure.

Within,

 

»A sail, a sail, a sail!«

 

[Enter a Messenger.]

 

CAS.

What noise?

[MESS.]

The town is empty; on the brow o' th' sea

Stand ranks of people, and they cry, »A sail!«

CAS.

My hopes do shape him for the governor.

 

[A shot.]

 

[2.] GENT.

They do discharge their shot of courtesy;

Our friends at least.

CAS.

I pray you, sir, go forth,

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

[2.] GENT.

I shall.

 

Exit.

 

MON.

But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd?

CAS.

Most fortunately: he hath achiev'd a maid

That paragons description and wild fame;

One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,

And in th' essential vesture of creation

Does tire the [ingener].

 

Enter [Second] Gentleman.

 

How now? who has put in?

[2.] GENT.

'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.

CAS.

H'as had most favorable and happy speed:

Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,

The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands,

Traitors ensteep'd to enclog 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.