Othello

Iago. What saist thou Noble heart? Rod. What will I do, think'st thou? Iago. Why go to bed and sleepe Rod. I will incontinently drowne my selfe Iago. If thou do'st, I shall neuer loue thee after. Why thou silly Gentleman? Rod. It is sillynesse to liue, when to liue is torment: and then haue we a prescription to dye, when death is our Physition Iago. Oh villanous: I haue look'd vpon the world for foure times seuen yeares, and since I could distinguish betwixt a Benefit, and an Iniurie: I neuer found man that knew how to loue himselfe. Ere I would say, I would drowne my selfe for the loue of a Gynney Hen, I would change my Humanity with a Baboone Rod. What should I do? I confesse it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my vertue to amend it Iago. Vertue? A figge, 'tis in our selues that we are thus, or thus. Our Bodies are our Gardens, to the which, our Wills are Gardiners. So that if we will plant Nettels, or sowe Lettice: Set Hisope, and weede vp Time: Supplie it with one gender of Hearbes, or distract it with many: either to haue it sterrill with idlenesse, or manured with Industry, why the power, and Corrigeable authoritie of this lies in our Wills. If the braine of our liues had not one Scale of Reason, to poize another of Sensualitie, the blood, and basenesse of our Natures would conduct vs to most prepostrous Conclusions. But we haue Reason to coole our raging Motions, our carnall Stings, or vnbitted Lusts: whereof I take this, that you call Loue, to be a Sect, or Seyen Rod. It cannot be Iago. It is meerly a Lust of the blood, and a permission of the will. Come, be a man: drowne thy selfe? Drown Cats, and blind Puppies. I haue profest me thy Friend, and I confesse me knit to thy deseruing, with Cables of perdurable toughnesse. I could neuer better steed thee then now. Put Money in thy purse: follow thou the Warres, defeate thy fauour, with an vsurp'd Beard. I say put Money in thy purse. It cannot be long that Desdemona should continue her loue to the Moore. Put Money in thy purse: nor he his to her. It was a violent Commencement in her, and thou shalt see an answerable Sequestration, put but Money in thy purse. These Moores are changeable in their wils: fill thy purse with Money. The Food that to him now is as lushious as Locusts, shalbe to him shortly, as bitter as Coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body she will find the errors of her choice. Therefore, put Money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damne thy selfe, do it a more delicate way then drowning. Make all the Money thou canst: If Sanctimonie, and a fraile vow, betwixt an erring Barbarian, and super-subtle Venetian be not too hard for my wits, and all the Tribe of hell, thou shalt enioy her: therefore make Money: a pox of drowning thy selfe, it is cleane out of the way. Seeke thou rather to be hang'd in Compassing thy ioy, then to be drown'd, and go without her Rodo. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue? Iago. Thou art sure of me: Go make Money: I haue told thee often, and I re-tell thee againe, and againe, I hate the Moore. My cause is hearted; thine hath no lesse reason. Let vs be coniunctiue in our reuenge, against him. If thou canst Cuckold him, thou dost thy selfe a pleasure, me a sport. There are many Euents in the Wombe of Time, which wilbe deliuered. Trauerse, go, prouide thy Money. We will haue more of this to morrow. Adieu Rod. Where shall we meete i'th' morning? Iago. At my Lodging Rod. Ile be with thee betimes Iago. Go too, farewell. Do you heare Rodorigo? Rod. Ile sell all my Land. Enter. Iago. Thus do I euer make my Foole, my purse: For I mine owne gain'd knowledge should prophane If I would time expend with such Snipe, But for my Sport, and Profit: I hate the Moore, And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets She ha's done my Office. I know not if't be true, But I, for meere suspition in that kinde, Will do, as if for Surety. He holds me well, The better shall my purpose worke on him: Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now, To get his Place, and to plume vp my will In double Knauery. How? How? Let's see. After some time, to abuse Othello's eares, 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 Moore is of a free, and open Nature, That thinkes men honest, that but seeme to be so, And will as tenderly be lead by'th' Nose As Asses are: I hau't: it is engendred: Hell, and Night, Must bring this monstrous Birth, to the worlds light. Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. Enter Montano, and two Gentlemen. Mon. What from the Cape, can you discerne at Sea? 1.Gent. Nothing at all, it is a high wrought Flood: I cannot 'twixt the Heauen, and the Maine, Descry a Saile Mon. Me thinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at Land, A fuller blast ne're shooke our Battlements: If it hath ruffiand so vpon the Sea, What ribbes of Oake, when Mountaines melt on them, Can hold the Morties. What shall we heare of this? 2 A Segregation of the Turkish Fleet: For do but stand vpon the Foaming Shore, The chidden Billow seemes to pelt the Clowds, The winde-shak'd-Surge, with high & monstrous Maine Seemes to cast water on the burning Beare, And quench the Guards of th' euer-fixed Pole: I neuer did like mollestation view On the enchafed Flood Men. If that the Turkish Fleete Be not enshelter'd, and embay'd, they are drown'd, It is impossible to beare it out. Enter a Gentleman. 3 Newes Laddes: our warres are done: The desperate Tempest hath so bang'd the Turkes, That their designement halts. A Noble ship of Venice, Hath seene a greeuous wracke and sufferance On most part of their Fleet Mon. How? Is this true? 3 The Ship is heere put in: A Verennessa, Michael Cassio Lieutenant to the warlike Moore, Othello, Is come on Shore: 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 Cassio, 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 Othello, 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 Cassio. Cassi. 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 ship'd? Cassio. 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 Cassio. What noise? Gent. The Towne is empty; on the brow o'th' Sea Stand rankes of People and they cry, a Saile Cassio. My hopes do shape him for the Gouernor Gent. They do discharge their Shot of Courtesie, Our Friends, at least Cassio. 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? Cassio. 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 Cassio. 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? 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