Mont.
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 virtues a just equinox,
The one as long as th' 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 horologue a double set,
If drink rock not his cradle.

Mont.
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 Rodorigo.

Iago.
How now, Rodorigo!
I pray you, after the lieutenant, go. [Exit Rod.

Mont.
And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a Place as his own Second,
With one of an ingraft infirmity;
It were an honest action to say so
Unto the Moor.

Iago.
Not I, for this fair island;
I do love Cassio well, and would do much
To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noise? [Within, help! help! Re-enter Cassio, pursuing Rodorigo.

Cas.

You rogue! you rascal!

Mont.

What's the matter, lieutenant?

Cas.

A knave teach me my duty! I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

Rod.

Beat me—

Cas.

Dost thou prate, rogue?

Mont.
Nay, good lieutenant; [Staying him.
I pray you, Sir, hold your hand.

Cas.
Let me go, Sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

Mont.

Come, come, you're drunk.

Cas.

Drunk?—

Iago.
Away, I say, go out and cry a mutiny. [Exit Rodorigo.
Nay, good lieutenant—Alas, gentlemen—
Help, ho!—Lieutenant—Sir—Montano—
Help, masters! here's a goodly watch, indeed—
Who's that, who rings the bell—diablo, ho! [Bell rings.
The town will rise. Fie, fie, lieutenant! hold:
You will be sham'd for ever. SCENE XII. Enter Othello, and Attendants.

Oth.
What is the matter here?

Mont.
I bleed still, I am hurt, but not to th' death.

Oth.
Hold, for your lives.

Iago.
Hold, ho! lieutenant—Sir—Montano—Gentlemen—

Have you forgot (a) ^note all sense of place and duty?
The General speaks to you—hold, hold, for shame—

Oth.
Why, how now, ho? from whence ariseth this?
Are we turn'd Turks? and to our selves 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?
Honest Iago, that looks 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
Divesting them for bed; and then, but now—
(As if some planet had unwitted men,)
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breasts,
In opposition bloody. I can't speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds,
And 'would, in action glorious I had lost
Those leggs 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 to 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.

Mont.
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

By me that's said or done amiss this night,
^{2 note}Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend our selves it be a sin,
When violence assails us.

Oth.
Now, by heav'n,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
And passion, having my best judgment choler'd,
Assays to lead the way. If I once 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'd in this offence,
Tho' he had twin'd with me both at a birth,
Shall lose me.—What, in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brim-full of fear,
To manage private and domestick quarrel?
In night, and on the Court and Guard of safety;
'Tis monstrous. Say, Iago, who began't?

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

Iago.
Touch me not so near:
I'd rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio:
Yet I perswade my self, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus 'tis, General:
Montano and my self being in speech,
There comes a fellow crying out for help,
And Cassio following with determin'd sword,
To execute upon him. Sir, this Gentleman
Steps in to Cassio, and intreats his pause;
My self the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest by his clamour (as it so fell out)
The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot,

Out-ran my purpose: I return'd, the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Cassio high in oath; which 'till to night
I ne'er might say before. When I came back,
(For this was brief) I found them close together
At blow and thrust; even as again they were,
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report.
But men are men; the best sometimes forget;
Tho' Cassio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, receiv'd
From him, that fled, some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.

Oth.
I know, Iago,
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee,
But never more be officer of mine.— Enter Desdemona attended.
Look if my gentle love be not rais'd up:
I'll make thee an example.

Des.
What's the matter?

Oth.
All is well, Sweeting, come to bed.
Sir, for your hurts, my self will be your surgeon.
Lead him off.
Iago, look with care about the town,
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
Come, Desdemona, 'tis the soldiers' life,
To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife. [Exeunt. SCENE XIII. Manent Iago and Cassio.

Iago.

What, are you hurt, lieutenant?

Cas.

Past all Surgery.

Iago.

Marry, heav'n forbid!

Cas.

Reputation, reputation, reputation! oh I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of my self, and what remains is bestial. My reputation! Iago, my reputation—

Iago.

As I am an honest man, I had thought, you had receiv'd some bodily wound; there is more sense in That than in Reputation. Reputation is an idle, and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man,—there are ways to recover the General again. You are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice; even so as one would beat his offenceless dog, to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him again, and he's yours.

Cas.

I will rather sue to be despis'd, than to deceive so good a commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? ^{3 note}


and speak Parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with one's own shadow? oh thou invincible spirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.

Iago.

What was he that you follow'd with your sword? what had he done to you?

Cas.

I know not.

Iago.

Is't possible?

Cas.

I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly: a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to steal away their brains! that we should with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform our selves into beasts.

Iago.

Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recover'd?

Cas.

It has pleas'd the devil, drunkenness, to give place to the devil, wrath; one unperfectness shews me another, to make me frankly despise my self.

Iago.

Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen: but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

Cas.

I will ask him for my Place again; he shall tell me, I am a drunkard!—had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!—Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.

Iago.

Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well us'd: exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think, you think, I love you.

Cas.

I have well approv'd it, Sir. I drunk!

Iago.

You, or any man living, may be drunk at some time, man. I tell you what you shall do: our general's wife is now the General. I may say so, in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark and (a) ^note denotement of her parts and graces. Confess your self freely to her: importune her help, to put you in your Place again. She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This broken joint, between you and her husband, intreat her to splinter. And, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.

Cas.

You advise me well.

Iago.

I protest, in the sincerity of love, and honest kindness.

Cas.

I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am desperate of my fortunes, if they check me here.

Iago.

You are in the right: good night, lieutenant, I must to the Watch.

Cas.

Good night, honest Iago.