Othello (Folio 1, 1623)
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318
The Tragedie of Othello
¶Newes (Friends) our Warres are done:
985The Turkes are drown'd.
¶How do's my old Acquaintance of this Isle?
¶I haue found great loue among'st them. Oh my Sweet,
¶I prattle out of fashion, and I doate
990In mine owne comforts. I prythee, good Iago,
¶Go to the Bay, and disimbarke my Coffers:
¶Bring thou the Master to the Cittadell,
995Once more well met at Cyprus.
¶
Exit Othello and Desdemona.
¶being in Loue, haue then a Nobilitie in their Natures,
1000more then is natiue to them) list-me; the Lieutenant to
¶thee this: Desdemona, is directly in loue with him.
¶the Moore, but for bragging, and telling her fantasticall
¶heart thinke it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight
1010is made dull with the Act of Sport, there should be a
¶game to enflame it, and to giue Satiety a fresh appetite.
¶and Beauties: all which the Moore is defectiue in. Now
¶for want of these requir'd Conueniences, her delicate
¶Now Sir, this granted (as it is a most pregnant and vn-
¶further conscionable, then in putting on the meere forme
¶mindes looke after. A pestilent compleat knaue, and the
1030woman hath found him already.
¶bless'd condition.
¶marke that?
¶They met so neere with their lippes, that their breathes
¶embrac'd together. Villanous thoughts Rodorigo, when
¶brought you from Venice. Watch you to night: for
¶nister.
¶Rod. Well.
1055happely may strike at you, prouoke him that he may: for
1060shall then haue to preferre them. And the impediment
¶most profitably remoued, without the which there were
¶no expectation of our prosperitie.
¶Rodo. I will do this, if you can bring it to any oppor-
¶tunity.
1065Iago. I warrant thee. Meete me by and by at the
¶well.
1070That she loues him, 'tis apt, and of great Credite.
¶The Moore (how beit that I endure him not)
¶Is of a constant, louing, Noble Nature,
¶And I dare thinke, he'le proue to Desdemona
¶A most deere husband. Now I do loue her too,
¶But partely led to dyet my Reuenge,
¶Hath leap'd into my Seate. The thought whereof,
1080Doth (like a poysonous Minerall) gnaw my Inwardes:
¶And nothing can, or shall content my Soule
¶Till I am eeuen'd with him, wife, for wift.
¶Or fayling so, yet that I put the Moore,
1085That iudgement cannot cure. Which thing to do,
¶If this poore Trash of Venice, whom I trace
¶For his quicke hunting, stand the putting on,
¶Abuse him to the Moore, in the right garbe
¶Make the Moore thanke me, loue me, and reward me,
¶And practising vpon his peace, and quiet,
1095Knaueries plaine face, is neuer seene, till vs'd.
Exit.
¶
Scena Secunda.
¶
Enter Othello's, Herald with a Proclamation.
¶ant Generall. That vpon certaine tydings now arriu'd,
1100importing the meere perdition of the Turkish Fleete:
¶euery man put himselfe into Triumph. Some to daunce,
¶some to make Bonfires, each man, to what Sport and
¶ficiall Newes, it is the Celebration of his Nuptiall. So
¶ces are open, & there is full libertie of Feasting from this
pre-
