Cyprus.
Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen.
Cassio.
Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle,† note
That so approve the Moor: oh, let the heav'ns
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea.
-- 173 --
Mont.
Is he well shipp'd?
Cas.
His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot
Of very expert and approv'd allowance.
Within.]
A sail, a sail, a sail!
Enter a Gentleman.
Cas.
What noise?
Gent.
The town is empty; on the brow o'th' sea
Stand ranks of people, and they cry, a sail.
Cas.
My hopes do shape him for the governor.
I pray you, sir, go forth,
And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.
Gent.
I shall.
[Exit.
Mont.
But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd?
Cas.
Most fortunately, he hath achiev'd a maid,
That paragons description and wild fame.
-- 174 --
Enter a Gentleman.
How now? Who has put in?
Gent.
It is one Iago, ancient to the general.
Cas.
H'as had most favourable and happy speed;
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting safe go by
The divine Desdemona.
Mont.
What is she?
Cas.
She that I spoke of, our great captain's captain,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Æmilia.
O behold!
The riches of the ship is come on shore:
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of Heav'n,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round.
Des.
I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me of my lord?
Cas.
He is not yet arriv'd, nor know I ought
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.
Des.
O, but I fear—how lost you company?
Cas.
The great contention of the sea and skies,
Parted our fellowship.
Good antient, you are welcome. Welcome, mistress.
Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
[To Æmilia.
That I extend my manners. 'Tis my breeding,
That gives me this bold shew of courtesy.
Iago.
Sir, would she give you so much of her lips,
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'd have enough.
Des.
Alas! she has no speech.
Iago.
In faith too much.
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.
-- 175 --
Æmil.
You have little cause to say so.
Iago.
Come on, come on; you're pictures out o' doors,
Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds!
Des.
O, fie upon thee, slanderer!
Iago.
Nay, it is true; or else I am a Turk;
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.* note
Æmil.
You shall not write my praise.
Iago.
No, let me not.
Des.
What would'st thou write of me, if thou should'st praise me?† note
Iago.
Oh gentle lady, do not put me to't,
For I am nothing, if not critical.
Des.
Come, one essay. There's one gone to the harbour?
Cas.
Ay, madam.
Des.
I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
What praise could thou bestow on a deserving woman, indeed?
Iago.
She that was ever fair, and never proud,
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud;
Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay
Fled from her wish, and yet said, now I may;
She that when anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly;
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
Have suitors following, and not look behind;
She was a wight, (if ever such wight were)—
Des.
To do what?
Iago.
To suckle fools, and chronicle small-beer.
-- 176 --
Des.
Oh most lame and impotent conclusion! Do
not learn of him, Æmilia, tho' he be thy husband.
How say you, Cassio, is he not a most prophane and
liberal censurer?
Cas.
He speaks home, madam; you may relish
him more in the soldier than in the scholar.
Iago. [Aside.]
He takes her by the palm; ay, well
said—whisper.—With as little a web as this, will I
ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her,
do—You say true, 'tis so, indeed.—If such tricks as
these strip you out of your lieutenantcy, it had been
better you had not kiss'd your three fingers so oft.
[Trumpet sounds.]
The Moor,—I know his trumpet.
[Trumpet.
Des.
Let's meet him, and receive him.
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
Oth.
Oh, my fair warrior!
Des.
My dear Othello.
Oth.
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 waken'd death:* note
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas,
Olympus high; and duck again as low,
As hell's from heav'n! If I 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.
Des.
The heav'ns forbid,
But that our loves and comforts should encrease,
Ev'n as our days do grow!
Oth.
Amen to that, sweet powers!
I cannot speak enough of this content,
It stops me here: it is too much of joy.
-- 177 --
And this, and this, the greatest discords be,
[Kissing her.
That e'er our hearts shall make.
Iago.
Oh, you are well tun'd, now; but I'll let down
the pegs that make this musick, as honest as I seem.
[Aside.
Oth.
News, friends, our wars are done; the Turks are drown'd.
How do our old acquaintance of this isle?
Honey, you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus,
I've found great love amongst them. Oh, my sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote,
In mine own comfort. Pr'ythee, good Iago,
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou the master to the citadel.
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.
[Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, &c.
Manent Iago and Rodorigo.* note
Iago.
Come hither, Rodorigo, if thou be'st valiant:
list me; the lieutenant, to-night, watches on the court
of guard. First, I must tell thee this; Desdemona is
directly in love with him.
Rod.
With him! why, 'tis not possible!
Iago.
Lay thy fingers thus; and let thy soul be instructed.
Mark me with what violence she first lov'd
the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical
lies. And will she love him still for prating? Let not
thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed.
And what delight shall she have to look on the devil!
Rod.
I cannot believe that of her, she's full of most
bless'd condition.
Iago.
Bless'd fig's end! the wine she drinks is made
of grapes. Bless'd pudding! did'st thou not see her
-- 178 --
paddle with the palm of his hand? Did'st not mark
that?
Rod.
Yes, that I did, but that was but courtesy.
Iago.
Letchery, by this hand; an idex, an obscure
prologue to the history of lust, and foul thoughts.
Sir, be you rul'd by me. I have brought you from
Venice. Watch you, to-night; for the command, I'll
lay't upon you. Cassio knows you not: I'll not be far
from you. Do you find some occasion to anger Cassio,
either by speaking too loud, or taunting his discipline,
or from what other course you please, which the time
shall more favourably minister.
Rod.
Well.
Iago.
Sir, he's rash, and very sudden in choler:
and, haply, may strike at you. Provoke him, that
he may; for even of that will I cause those of Cyprus
to mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no
true taste again, but by the displanting of Cassio.
Rod.
I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity.
Iago.
I warrant thee. Meet me, by and by, at the
citadel. I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewel.
Rod.
Adieu.
[Exit.
Manet Iago.
Iago.
That Cassio loves her, I do well believe;
That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of great credit.
The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature;
And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona,
A most dear husband. Now I love her too,
Not out of absolute lust, (tho', peradventure,
I stand accountant for as great a sin;)
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect, the lustful Moor
Hath leapt into my seat.* note The thought whereof
-- 179 --
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw me inwards;
And nothing can, or shall, content my soul,
'Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife;
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong,
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
If this poor brach† note of Venice, whom I trace
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I'll have out Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb;
(For I fear Cassio with my night-cap, too,)
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me,
For making him egregiously an ass;
And practising upon his peace and quiet,
Even to madness. 'Tis here—but yet confus'd:
Knavery's plain face is never seen, till us'd.
[Exit.
Scene
SCENE, the Castle Gate.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.
Oth.
Good Michael, look you to the guard, to-night,
Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
Not to out-sport discretion.
Cas.
Iago hath direction what to do.
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye,
Will I look to't.
Oth.
Iago is most honest.
Michael, good-night. To-morrow, with your earliest,
Let me have speech with you. Come, my dear love,
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
That profit's yet to come, 'tween me and you.
Good-night.
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona, into the Castle.
-- 180 --
Enter Iago.
Cassio.
Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.
Iago.
Not this hour, lieutenant. 'Tis not yet ten
o'th' clock. Our general cast us thus early, for the
love of his Desdemona; whom let us not therefore
blame. He hath not yet made wanton the night with
her; and she is sport for Jove.
Cas.
She's a most exquisite lady.
Iago.
And I'll warrant her, full of game.
Cas.
Indeed she's a most fresh and delicate creature.
Iago.
What an eye she has? methinks, it sounds a
parley to provocation.
Cas.
An inviting eye; and yet, methinks, right modest.
Iago.
And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
Cas.
She is, indeed, perfection.
Iago.
Well, happiness to their sheets. Come, lieutenant,
I have a stoop of wine, and here without are
a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a measure
to the health of black Othello.
Cas.
Not to-night, good Iago. I have very poor
and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish
courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
Iago.
Oh, they are our friends; but, one cup; I'll
drink for you.
Cas.
I have drank but one cup, to-night, and that
was carefuly qualified too; and behold what innovation
it makes here. I am unfortunate in the infirmity,
and dare not task my weakness with any more.
Iago.
What, man! 'tis a night of revels, the gallants
desire it.
Cas.
Where are they?
Iago.
Within. I pray you, call them hither.
Cas.
I'll do't, but it dislikes me.
[Exit Cassio.
Iago.
If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
-- 181 --
With that which he hath drank to night already,
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence,
As my young mistress's dog.—
Now my sick fool, Rodorigo,
Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
To Desdemona hath to-night carouz'd
Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch.
Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,
(That hold their honours at a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,)
Have I, to-night, fluster'd with flowing cups,
And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards,
Am I to put our Cassio in some action,
That may offend the isle. But here they come.
If consequence do but approve my dream,
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen.
Cas.
'Fore Heaven, they have given me a rouse already.
Mont.
Good faith, a little one. Not past a pint, as
I am a soldier.
Iago.
Some wine, ho?
[Iago sings.
And let me the canakin clink, clink, clink,
And let me the canakin clink.
A soldier's a man; oh, man's life's but a span:
Why then let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys.
Cas.
'Fore Heav'n, an excellent song.
Iago.
I learn't it in England; where, indeed, they
are most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German,
and your swag-belly'd Hollander—Drink, ho!
are nothing to your English.
Cas.
Is your Englishman so exquisite in his drinking?
Iago.
Why, he drinks you with facility, your Dane
dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrow your Almain.
-- 182 --
He gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle
can be filled.
Cas.
To the health of our general.
Mont.
I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you justice.
Iago.
Oh, sweet England.
King Sthephen was, and a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them six-pence all too dear,
With that he call'd the taylor lown.* note
Some wine, ho;
Cas.
Why, this is a more exquisite song than the
other.
Iago.
Will you hear't 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,
nor 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 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. I
am not drunk, now; I can stand well enough, and I
speak well enough.
Gent.
Excellent well.
Cas.
Why, very well then. You must not think
then that I am drunk.
[Exit.
-- 183 --
Manent Iago and Montano.
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;
I fear, the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.
Mont.
But is he often thus?
Iago.
'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.
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.
[Within. Help, help!
Hark, what noise?
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!—
-- 184 --
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 over the mazzard.
Mont.
Come, come, you're drunk.
Cas.
Drunk!
[They fight.
Iago.
Away, I say, go out and cry mutiny.
[Exit Rod.
Nay, good lieutenant—Sir—Montano—
Help, masters! Here's a goodly watch, indeed—
Who's that? Who rings the bell—The town will rise.
[Bell rings.
Fy! fy! lieutenant! hold:
You will be shamed for ever.
Enter Othello and Attendants.
Oth.
Hold, for your lives.
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.
[Bell rings.
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 legs, that brought me to a part of it.
-- 185 --
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.
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 ought
By me that's said, or done, amiss, this night?
Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend ourselves, it be a sin,
When violence assails us.
Oth.
Now, by Heav'n,* note
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 twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me.—What, and in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel?
In night, and in the court of guard and 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.
-- 186 --
Iago.
Touch me not so near:* note
I'd 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 'tis, general;
Montano and myself 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;
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,
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,† note
But never more be officer of mine.—&verbar2; note
-- 187 --
Enter Desdemona.
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, myself will be your surgeon.
Lead him off.
[Montano is led off.
Look with care about the town,
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
Come, Desdemona, 'tis the soldier's life,
To have his balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.
[Exit.
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 myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation!
Iago, my reputation!—
Iago.
As I am an honest man, I thought you had
received 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.
Sue to him again, and he's yours.
-- 188 --
Cas.
I will rather sue to be despised, than to deceive
so good a commander, with so slight, so drunken, and
so indiscreet an officer. 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 the
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!
Iago.
Why, but you are now well enough: how
came you thus recovered?
Cas.
It has pleased the devil, Drunkenness, to give
place to the devil, Wrath; one unperfectness shews
me another, to make me frankly despise myself.
Iago.
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; 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 is requested.
Cas.
You advise me well
-- 189 --
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.
[Exit Cassio.
Manet Iago.
Iago.
And what's he then, that says, I play a villain?
When this advice I give, is free and honest,
Likely to thinking, and, indeed, the course
To win the Moor again. For 'tis most easy
Th' inclining Desdemona to subdue,
In any honest suit. Am I then a villain
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
Directly to his good? 'Tis Hell's divinity;
When devils will their blackest sins put on,
They do suggest at first with heav'nly shews,
As I do now. For while this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune,
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,
That she repeals him for her body's lust:
And by how much she strives to do him good,
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch;
And out of her own goodness make the net,
That shall enmesh them all. How now, Rodorigo!
Enter Rodorigo.
Rod.
I follow here in the chace, not like a hound
that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money
is almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly
well cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall
have so much experience for my pains; and so with
-- 190 --
no money at all, and a little more wit, return again
to Venice.
Iago.
How poor are they, that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,
And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio.
Retire thee; go where thou art billetted.
Away, I say; thou shalt know more, hereafter;
Nay, get thee gone.
[Exit Rodorigo.
Two things are to be done;
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress:
I'll set her on:
Myself, the while, to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him jump, when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife—Ay, that's the way;
Dull not device, by coldness and delay.* note
[Exit.
End of the Second Act.
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
