 (The officer returns.)
Cassio.
How’s it going? Who’s arrived?
Officer.
A certain Jago, the general’s ensign.
Cassio.
The precious jewel with which he was laden made his voyage so
happy; the storms themselves, the swollen seas and
howling winds, the water-covered rocks and the heaped
sandbanks, (traitors lurking in secret
to stop the innocent keel) forgot, as if they
had a sense of beauty, their natural cruelty, to let the divine
Desdemona pass unhurt.
Montano.
Who is this?
Cassio. She of whom I spoke, the mistress of our great commander, whom he has entrusted to the guidance of bold Iago, and whose hastened arrival anticipates our thoughts by at least a week. Now, O Heaven, protect Othello! And swell his sails with your own almighty breath, that he may bless this bay with his fair ship, and when his love has breathed out the rapture of reunion in Desdemon’s arms, set our dying spirits anew and fill all Cyprus with courage and confidence.—
