O, my fair warrior!

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 wakened 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. They kiss.
And this, and this, the greatest discords be
That e'er our hearts shall make!
Iago, aside
O, you are well tuned now,
But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.