There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
DESDEMONA
O heavy ignorance! – thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, – one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?
IAGO
She that was ever fair and never proud;
Had tongue at will and yet was never loud;
Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay;
Fled from her wish, and yet said, "Now I may";
She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly;
She that in wisdom never was so frail
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind;
See suitors following and not look behind;
She was a wight, if ever such wight were; —
DESDEMONA
To do what?
IAGO
To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
DESDEMONA
O most lame and impotent conclusion! – Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. – How say you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal counsellor?
CASSIO
He speaks home, madam: you may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar.
IAGO
[Aside.] He takes her by the palm: ay, well said, whisper: with as little a web as this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are most apt to play the sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips? Would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!
[Trumpet within.]
The Moor! I know his trumpet.
CASSIO
'Tis truly so.
DESDEMONA
Let's meet him, and receive him.
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 [Kissing her.]
That e'er our hearts shall make!
IAGO
[Aside.] O, you are well tun'd now!
But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.