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? Cassio. She that I spake of: Our great Captains Captaine, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, Whose footing heere anticipates our thoughts, A Senights speed. Great Ioue, Othello guard, And swell his Saile with thine owne powrefull breath, That he may blesse this Bay with his tall Ship, 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 Ship is come on shore: 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 Cassio, 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? Cassio. The great Contention of Sea, and Skies Parted our fellowship. But hearke, a Saile

Within. A Saile, a Saile

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

Cassio. 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 Ladyship, 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, assay. 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

Desde. Oh heauy ignorance: thou praisest the worst best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a deseruing woman indeed? One, that in the authorithy of her merit, did iustly put on the vouch of very malice it selfe

Iago. She that was euer faire, and neuer proud, Had Tongue at will, and yet was neuer loud: Neuer lackt Gold, and yet went neuer gay, Fled from her wish, and yet said now I may. She that being angred, her reuenge being nie, Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure flie: She that in wisedome neuer was so fraile, To change the Cods-head for the Salmons taile: She that could thinke, and neu'r disclose her mind, See Suitors following, and not looke behind: She was a wight, (if euer such wightes were) Des. To do what? Iago. To suckle Fooles, and chronicle small Beere

Desde. Oh most lame and impotent conclusion. Do not learne of him aemillia, though he be thy husband. How say you (Cassio) is he not a most prophane, and liberall Counsailor? Cassio. He speakes home (Madam) you may rellish him more in the Souldier, then in the Scholler

Iago. He takes her by the palme: I, well said, whisper. With as little a web as this, will I ensnare as great a Fly as Cassio. I smile vpon her, do: I will giue thee in thine owne Courtship. You say true, 'tis so indeed. If such tricks as these strip you out of your Lieutenantrie, it had beene better you had not kiss'd your three fingers so oft, which now againe you are most apt to play the Sir, in. Very good: well kiss'd, and excellent Curtsie: 'tis so indeed. Yet againe, your fingers to your lippes? Would they were Cluster-pipes for your sake. The Moore I know his Trumpet

Cassio. 'Tis truely so

Des. Let's meete him, and recieue him

Cassio. Loe, where he comes. Enter Othello, and Attendants.

Oth. O, my faire Warriour

Des. My deere Othello

Othe. It giues me wonder great, as my content To see you heere before me. Oh my Soules Ioy: If after euery Tempest, come such Calmes, May the windes blow, till they haue waken'd death: And let the labouring Barke climbe hills of Seas Olympus high: and duck againe as low, As hell's from Heauen. If it were now to dye, 'Twere now to be most happy. For I feare, My Soule hath her content so absolute, That not another comfort like to this, Succeedes in vnknowne Fate

Des. The Heauens forbid But that our Loues And Comforts should encrease Euen as our dayes do grow

Othe. Amen to that (sweet Powers) I cannot speake enough of this content, It stoppes me heere: it is too much of ioy. And this, and this the greatest discords be That ere our hearts shall make

Iago. Oh you are well tun'd now: But Ile set downe the peggs that make this Musicke, as honest as I am

Othe. Come: let vs to the Castle. Newes (Friends) our Warres are done: The Turkes are drown'd. How do's my old Acquaintance of this Isle? (Hony) you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus, I haue found great loue among'st them. Oh my Sweet, I prattle out of fashion, and I doate In mine owne comforts. I prythee, good Iago, Go to the Bay, and disimbarke my Coffers: Bring thou the Master to the Cittadell, He is a good one, and his worthynesse