!

they are most potent in potting; your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander,-Drink, ho!-are nothing to your English.

Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drink

ing?

lago. Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled.

Cas. To the health of our general.

Mon. I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice.1

lago. O sweet England!

King Stephen was a worthy peer,2
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he call'd the tailor-lown.8

He was a wight of high renown,
And thou art but of low degree :
'Tis pride that pulls the country down,
Then take thine auld cloak about thee.

Some wine, ho!

Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

Iago. Will you hear it again?

Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place, that does those things. Well,-Heaven's above all; and there be souls that must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

Iago. It's true, good lieutenant.

Cas. For mine own part,-no offence to the general, or any man of quality, -I hope to be saved. Iago. And so do I too, lieutenant.

Cas. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's have no more of this; let's to our affairs.-Forgive

(1) Drink as much as you do.
(2) A worthy fellow.

(3) Clown

us our sins! Gentlemen, let's look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk; this is my ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left hand:-I am not drunk now; I can stand well

enough, and speak well enough.

All. Excellent well.

Cas. Why, very well, then you must not think

then that I am drunk.

[Exit.

Mon. To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch.

Iago. You see this fellow, that is gone before;He is a soldier, fit to stand by Cæsar And give direction: and do but see his vice; 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him. I fear, the trust Othello puts him in, On some odd time of his infirmity,

Will shake this island.

Mon.

But is he often thus?

Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:

He'll watch the horologe a double set,1

If drink rock not his cradle.

Mon.

It were well,

The general were put in mind of it.
Perhaps, he sees it not; or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
And looks not on his evils; Is not this true?

Enter Roderigo.

Iago. How now, Roderigo? [Aside I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. [Exit Rod. Mon. And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place, as his own second, With one of an ingraft2 infirmity: It were an honest action, to say

So to the Moor.

(1) While the clock strikes two rounds, or fourand-twenty hours.

(2) Rooted, settled.

2

Iago.
Not I, for this fair island:
I do love Cassio well; and would do much
To cure him of this evil. But hark! what noise?

[Cry within.-Help! help!

Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo.

Cas. You rogue! you rascal!

Mon.

What's the matter, lieutenant?

Cas. A knave!--teach me my duty!

I'll beat the knave into a twiggen1 bottle.

;

Rod. Beat me!

Cas.

Mon.

Nay, good lieutenant;

I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

[Staying him.

Cas.

Let me go, sir,

Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

Mon.

Cas. Drunk!

Come, come, you're drunk. [They fight.

lago. Away, I say! go out, and cry-a mutiny!
[Aside to Rod. who goes out.

Nay, good lieutenant, alas, gentlemen,-
Help, ho!-Lieutenant, sir,-Montano,-sir ;-
Help, masters! Here's a goodly watch, indeed!

[Bell rings.

Who's that that rings the bell?-Diablo, ho!
The town will rise; God's will, lieutenant! hold;
You will be sham'd for ever.

Oth.

Enter Othello, and Attendants.

What is the matter here?

Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to the death;-he

dies.

Oth. Hold, for your lives.

lago. Hold, hold, lieutenant, sir, Montano,

gentlemen,

Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?

Hold, hold! the general speaks to you; hold, for

shame!

Oth. Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth
this?

Are we turn'd Turks; and to ourselves do that,
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage,
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.-
Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isle
From her propriety. What is the matter, mas-

ters?

Honest lago, that look'st dead with grieving, Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee. Iago. I do not know;-friends all but now, even

now,

In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
Devesting them for bed: and then, but now
(As if some planet had unwitted inen,)
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds;
And 'would in action glorious I had lost
These legs, that brought me to a part of it!
Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?!
Cas. I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.
Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;

The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted, and your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure; What's the matter,
That you unlace your reputation thus,
And spend your rich opinion, for the name
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.

Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger;

Your officer, Iago, can inform you-
While I spare speech, which something now offends

me

Of all that I do know: nor know I aught

(1) i. e. You have thus forgot yourself.

By me that's said or done amiss this night;
Unless self-charityl be sometime a vice;
And to defend ourselves it be a sin,

When violence assails us.

Oth.

Now, by heaven,

My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
And passion, having my best judgınent collied,2
Assays to lead the way: If once I stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
How this foul rout began, who set it on;
And he that is approv'd3 in this offence,
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me. - What! in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel,
In night, and on the court and guard of safety!
'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began it?

Mon. If partially affin'd,4 or leagu'd in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.

Touch me not so near:

Iago.
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow, crying out for help;
And Cassio following him with determin'd sword,
To execute upon him: Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause;
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest, by his clamour (as it so fell out,)
The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,

(1) Care of one's self. (2) Darkened.
(3) Convicted by proof.
(4) Related by nearness of office.