Shakespeare's First Folio Part 622

3 The s.h.i.+p is heere put in: A Verennessa, Michael Ca.s.sio Lieutenant to the warlike Moore, Oth.e.l.lo, Is come on Sh.o.r.e: the Moore himselfe at Sea, And is in full Commission heere for Cyprus

Mon. I am glad on't: 'Tis a worthy Gouernour

3 But this same Ca.s.sio, though he speake of comfort, Touching the Turkish losse, yet he lookes sadly, And praye the Moore be safe; for they were parted With fowle and violent Tempest

Mon. Pray Heauens he be: For I haue seru'd him, and the man commands Like a full Soldier. Let's to the Sea-side (hoa) As well to see the Vessell that's come in, As to throw-out our eyes for braue Oth.e.l.lo, Euen till we make the Maine, and th' Eriall blew, An indistinct regard

Gent. Come, let's do so; For euery Minute is expectancie Of more Arriuancie.

Enter Ca.s.sio.

Ca.s.si. Thankes you, the valiant of the warlike Isle, That so approoue the Moore: Oh let the Heauens Giue him defence against the Elements, For I haue lost him on a dangerous Sea

Mon. Is he well s.h.i.+p'd?

Ca.s.sio. His Barke is stoutly Timber'd, and his Pylot Of verie expert, and approu'd Allowance; Therefore my hope's (not surfetted to death) Stand in bold Cure

Within. A Saile, a Saile, a Saile

Ca.s.sio. What noise?

Gent. The Towne is empty; on the brow o'th' Sea Stand rankes of People and they cry, a Saile

Ca.s.sio. My hopes do shape him for the Gouernor

Gent. They do discharge their Shot of Courtesie, Our Friends, at least

Ca.s.sio. I pray you Sir, go forth, And giue vs truth who 'tis that is arriu'd

Gent. I shall.

Enter.

Mon. But good Lieutenant, is your Generall wiu'd?

Ca.s.sio. Most fortunately: he hath atchieu'd a Maid That paragons description, and wilde Fame: One that excels the quirkes of Blazoning pens, And in th' essentiall Vesture of Creation, Do's tyre the Ingeniuer.

Enter Gentleman.

How now? Who ha's put in?

Gent. 'Tis one Iago, Auncient to the Generall

Ca.s.sio. Ha's had most fauourable, and happie speed: Tempests themselues, high Seas, and howling windes, The gutter'd-Rockes, and Congregated Sands, Traitors ensteep'd, to enclogge the guiltlesse Keele, As hauing sence of Beautie, do omit Their mortall Natures, letting go safely by The Diuine Desdemona

Mon. What is she?

Ca.s.sio. She that I spake of: Our great Captains Captaine, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, Whose footing heere antic.i.p.ates our thoughts, A Senights speed. Great Ioue, Oth.e.l.lo guard, And swell his Saile with thine owne powrefull breath, That he may blesse this Bay with his tall s.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+p is come on sh.o.r.e: 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 Ca.s.sio, 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?

Ca.s.sio. The great Contention of Sea, and Skies Parted our fellows.h.i.+p. But hearke, a Saile

Within. A Saile, a Saile

Gent. They giue this greeting to the Cittadell: This likewise is a Friend

Ca.s.sio. 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 Ladys.h.i.+p, 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, a.s.say.

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