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Let's meet him and receive him.
O my fair warrior!
My dear Othello!
O my soul's joy! 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.
The heavens forbid but that our loves and comforts should increase, even as our days do grow!
Amen to that, sweet powers! I cannot speak enough of this content; it stops me here; it is too much of joy: and this, the greatest discords be that e'er our hearts shall make!
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