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Fago. Sir, would she give you so much of her Lips,
As of her Tongue lhe oft bestows on me,
You would have enough.

Def. Alas! the has no Speech:

Jago. lo faith, too much;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep;
Ma ry before your Ladithip, I grant,
She puts her Tongue a little in her Heart,
And chides with thinking,

Æmil. You have little cause to say so.

Jago. Come on,come on; you are Pictures out of Doors,
Bells in your Parlors, Wild-Cats in your Kitchens,
Saints in your Injuries, Devils being offended,
Players in your Huswifery, and Huswives in


Des. Oh, fie upon thee, Slanderer.

Jago. Nay, it is true; or else I am a Turk,
You rise to play, and go to Bed to work.

Æmil. You shall not write my praise.
Jago. No, let me not.
Des. What wouldft write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?

Fago. Oh gentle Lady, do not put me to't,
For I am nothing, if not Critical.

Des. Come on, assay. There's one gone to the Harbour---
Fago. Ay, Madam.

Des. I am not merry ; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise ;
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

Fago. I am about it, but indeed my Invention comes from my Pate, as Birdlime does from Freeze, it plucks our Brains and all. But my Muse labours, and thus she is delivered.

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If me be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one's for use, the orber ufeth it.

Des. Well prais’d; how if she be black and witty?

Fago. If she be black, and thereto have a Wit,
She'll find a white that all her blackness fit.

Def. Worse and worse.
Æmil. How if fair and foolish!


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Fago. She never get was foolis that was fair, For even her Folly helpt her to an Heir.

Des. These are old fond Paradoxes, to make Fools laugh ith Alehouse. What miserable Praise haft thou for her that's foul and foolish ?

Jago. There's none so foul and foolish thereunto, But does foul Pranks, which fair and wife ones do.

Des. Oh heavy Ignorance! thou praisest the worst beft. But what Praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving Wo. man indeed? One, that in the authority of her Merit, did juftly put on the vouch of very Malice it self.

Jago. She that was ever fair, and never proud,
Had Tongue at will

, and yet was never lond;
Never lackt Gold, and yet went never gay,
Fled from her wish, and yet faid Now I may;
She that being anger’d, ber Revenge being nigh,
Bad her wrong ftay, and her displeasure fly;
Sbe that in Wisdom never was lo frail
To change the Cod's Head for the Salmon's Tail;
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her Mind,
Sec Suitors following, and not look behind;
She was a Wight, (if ever such Wight weres)

Des. To do what?
Jago. To suckle Fools, and Chronicle small Beer.

Def. Oh most lame and impotent Conclusion. Do not Searn of him, Æmilia, tho' he be thy Husband. How {ay you, Callio, is he not a most profane and liberal Counfellor?

Caf. He speaks home, Madam, you may relish him more in the Soldier, than in the Scholar.

Fago. Aside. ] He takes her by the Palm; ay, well faida. whisper---With as little a Web as this, will I enfaare as great a Fly as Cassie. Ay, smile upon her, do--- I will gyve thee in thine own Courtship. You say trúc, 'ois so indeed--- If fuch Tricks as these strip you out of your Lieutenancy, it had been better you had not kiss'd your three Fingers fo oft, which now again you are most apt to play the Sir in. Very good---well kiss'd, and excellent Curtefie-'cis so indeed---Yet again--your fingers to your Lips & Would they were


Clifter-pipes for your fake.

[Trumpet, The Moor, I know his Trumpet.

Caf. 'Tis truly fo. 6

Def. Let's meet him, and receive him,
Caf, Lo, where he comes !

Enter Othello, and Attendants,
Otb. O my fair Warior!

Def. My dear Othello,

Oth. It gives me wonder, great as my Content,
To see you here before me. O my Soul's Joy!
If after

every Tempest come such Calms,
May che Winds blow, 'till they have wakend Death;
And let the labouring Bark climb Hills of Seas
Olympus high; and duck again as low
As Hell's from Heav'n. If it were now to dye,
'T'were now to be most happy; for I fear
My Soul hath her Content fo abfolute,
That not another Comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown Fate.

Def. The Heavn's forbid,
But that our Loves and Comforts should increase,
Even as our Days do grow.

Orh. Amen to that, sweet Powers!
I cannot speak enough of this content,
It stops me here: It is too much of Joy,
And this and this the greatest Discords be

[Killing her. That e'er our Hearts shall make.

Fago. Oh you are well tun'd now; but I'll fet down the Pegs that make this Mufick, as honest as I am. [Aside.

Oib. Come, let's to the Castle. Now, Friends, our Wars are done; the Turks are drown'd. How does my old Acquaintance in this. INe? Honey, you shall be well defir'd in Cyprus, I have found great Love amongst them. O my Sweet, I prattle out of fashion, and I dote In mine own Comforts. I prethee, good Jago, Go to the Bay, and disembark my Coffers: Bring thou the Master to the Cittadel, He is a good one, and his Worthiness Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,


Once more well met at Cyprus.

Exeunt Othello and Desdemona. Jago. Do you meet me presently at the Harbour. Come thither, if thou be'st valiant; as they say, bafe Men being in Love, have then a Nobility in their Natures, more than is native to them---list me; the Lieutenant to Night watches on the Court Guard. First, I must tell thee this: Der demona is dire&ly in Love with him.

Rod. With him? why, 'tis not possible.

Fago. Lay thy Fingers trus; and let thy Soul be instru&. ed. Mark me with whac Violence she lov'd the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical Lies.

To love him ftill for prating, let not thy discreet Heart think it. Her Eye must be fed. And what Delight shall she have to look on the Devil ? When the Blood is made dull with the A& of Sport, there should be a game to inflame it, and to give satiety a fresh Appetite; Loveliness in favour, Years, Manners, and Beauties: All which the Moor is defective in. Now for want of these requir'd Conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find it self abus'd, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; very Nature will instruct her in it, and compel her to some second choice. Now, Sir, this granted, (as it is a most pregnant and unforc'd Pofition) who stands fo eminent in the degree of this Fortune, as Caflio does: A Knave very voluble; no further Conscionable, than in putting on the meer form of Civil and Human seeming, for the better compass of his Salt, and most hidden loose Affe&ion? Why nose, why none. A slippery and subtle Knave, a finder of Occasions; that has an Eye can stamp aid counterfeit Advantages, though true Advantage never pre!ent it felf. A Devilish Knave! besides, the Knive is handom, young, and hath all those Requfities in him, that folly and green Minds look after.

A pestilent compleat Knave! and the Woman found him already.

Rod. I cannot believe that in her, she's full of most blesid Condition.

Jago. Bless'd Figs end. The Wine the drinks is made of Grapes. If she had been bless'd, she would never have lov'd the Moor: Bless'd pudding. Didst thou not see


her paddle with the palm of Hand? Didft not mark that?

Rod. Yes, that I did; but that was but Courtefie.

Jago. Letchery by this Hind: An Index, and obscure Prol gue

to the History of Lull, and foul Thoughts. They met so near with their Lips, that their Breaths embrac'd together. Villanous Thoughts, Rodorigo, when tbele Mutabilities fo mashal the way, hard at hand comes the Mafter, and main Exercise, th' incorporate Conclusion: PisherBut, Sir, be you ruld by me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to Night; for the Command, I'll lay't upon you. Caffio knows you not; I'll not be far from you. Do you find some Occasion to anger Caffio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his 'Discipline, or from what other course you please, which the time thall more favourably minister.

Rod. Well..

Jago. Sir, he's Rath, and very sudden in Choler: And happily may strike at you, provoke him that he may; for even out of that will I cause those of Cyprus to mutiny. Whose Qualification shall come into no true taste again, but by displancing of Caffio. So fhall you have a shorter journey to your Defires, by the means I shall then have to prefer them. And the Impediment molt profitably removed, without the which there were no expectation of our Prosperity.

Rod. I will do this, if you can bring it to any Opporo tunity.

Jago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the Cittadel. I must ferch his Neceflaries ashore. Farewel. Rod. Adieu.

[Exit. Jago. That Caffio loves her, I do well believe't: That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble Nature, And I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona, A moft dear Husband. Now I do love her too, Not out of absolute Luft, though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a Sin, But partly led to diet my Revenge,


great Credit.

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