“O, behold, the riches of the ship is come on shore!” he cried, as Desdemona approached, with Emilia, Iago, Roderigo, and their attendants. “Hail to thee, lady! The grace of heaven, before, behind thee, and on every hand, enwheel thee round!”
“I thank thee, valiant Cassio,” replied Desdemona. “What tidings can you tell me of my lord?”
Cassio answered that Othello was not yet arrived, and for anything he knew he was well, and would be there shortly; and even as he spoke, the guns on the citadel thundered a greeting to a friendly sail.
Like a spider who has woven its web, Iago watched his victims; he gloated over the idle chatter between Cassio and Desdemona, and marked, as they laughed and talked together, how the young man smiled and bowed, and often kissed his fingers with an air of gallantry.
“Ay, smile upon her, do,” he sneered to himself; “if such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenancy, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft.... Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy! ’tis so, indeed!”
“Ay, smile upon her!”
So he went on, taking malicious pleasure in the young man’s little affected airs, which would the more readily lend colour to any suggestions Iago chose to bring against him.
Othello, meanwhile, had landed. His joy at again meeting his wife was so intense that he could scarcely express it.