Othello

CASSIO. Lo, where he comes!

Enter Othello and Attendants.

OTHELLO. O my fair warrior!
DESDEMONA. My dear Othello!
OTHELLO. 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 the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus-high, and duck again as low
As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy; for I fear
My soul hath her content so absolute
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
DESDEMONA. The heavens forbid
But that our loves and comforts should increase,
Even as our days do grow!
OTHELLO. 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 Kisses
her.
That e'er our hearts shall make!
IAGO. [Aside.] O, you are well tuned now!
But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.
OTHELLO. Come, let us to the castle.
News, friends: our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd.
How does my old acquaintance of this isle?
Honey, you shall be well desired 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 prithee, good Iago,
Go to the bay and disembark my coffers.
Bring thou the master to the citadel;
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.

Exeunt all but Iago and Roderigo

IAGO. Do thou meet me presently at the harbor. Come hither. If
thou
be'st valiant – as they say base men being in love have then a
nobility in their natures more than is native to them – list
me.
The lieutenant tonight watches on the court of guard. First,
I
must tell thee this: Desdemona is directly in love with him.
RODERIGO. With him? Why, 'tis not possible.
IAGO. Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark
me
with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging
and
telling her fantastical lies. And will she love him still 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 act of sport, there should
be,
again to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite,
loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners, and
beauties —
all which the Moor is defective in. Now, for want of these
required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find
itself
abused, 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
unforced position – who stands so eminently in the degree of
this
fortune as Cassio does? A knave very voluble; no further
conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and
humane
seeming, for the better compass of his salt and most hidden
loose
affection? Why, none, why, none – a slipper and subtle knave,
a
finder out of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and
counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present
itself – a devilish knave! Besides, the knave is handsome,
young,
and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green
minds
look after – a pestilent complete knave, and the woman hath
found
him already.
RODERIGO. I cannot believe that in her; she's full of most
blest
condition.
IAGO. Blest fig's-end! The wine she drinks is made of grapes.
If
she had been blest, she would never have loved the Moor.
Blest
pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his