Cyprus, and Gentlemen.
Montano.
What from the cape can you discern at sea?
1 Gent.
Nothing at all, it is a high-wrought flood;
I cannot 'twixt the a noteheavens and the main
Descry a sail.
Mont.
Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements;
If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
What ribs of oak, when b notethe huge mountains melt,
Can hold the morties? what shall we hear of this?
2 Gent.
A segregation of the Turkish fleet;
For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
The chiding billows seem to pelt the clouds,
The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous main,
Seems to cast water on the burning Bear,
And quench the guards of th' ever c notefired pole;
-- 500 --
I never did like molestation view
On the enchafed flood.
Mont.
If that the Turkish fleet
Be not inshelter'd and embay'd, they're drown'd:
It is impossible to bear it out.
SCENE II.
Enter a third Gentleman.
3 Gent.
News, d notelords, our wars are done:
The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,
That their designment halts. Another ship of Venice
Hath seen a grievous wrack and sufferance
On most part of their fleet.
Mont.
How! is this true?
3 Gent.
The ship is here put in;
A Veronesso, Michael Cassio,
Lieutenant of the warlike Moor Othello,
Is come on shore; the Moor himself's at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
Mont.
I'm glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.
3 Gent.
But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort,
Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,
And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.
Mont.
Pray heav'ns he be:
For I have serv'd him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let's to the sea-side,
As well to see the vessel that's come in,
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
Even 'till we make the main and th' aerial blue
An indistinct regard.
Gent.
Come, let's do so;
-- 501 --
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.
SCENE III.
Enter Cassio.
Cas.
Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle,
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.
Mont.
Is he well shipp'd?
Cas.
His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot
Of very expert and approv'd allowance;
Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
Stand in bold cure.
Within.]
A sail, a sail, a sail!
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.
Gent.
They do discharge their shot of courtesie:
Our friends at least.
Cas.
I pray you, Sir, go forth,
And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd.
Gent.
I shall.
[Exit.
Mont.
But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd?
Cas.
Most fortunately, he hath atchiev'd a maid
That paragons description and wild fame:
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
And in th' essential vesture of creation
Do's bear all excellency—
-- 502 --
SCENE IV.
Enter Gentleman.
How now? who has put in?
Gent.
'Tis one Jago, Ancient to the general.
Cas.
H'as had most favourable and happy speed;
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The gutter'd rocks, and congregated lands,
(Traitors † noteensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,)
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 spake of, our great captain's captain:
Left in the conduct of the bold Jago,
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts,
A sennight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extinguish'd spirits,
And bring all Cyprus comfort—
SCENE V.
Enter Desdemona, Jago, Rodorigo, and Æmilia.
O behold!
The riches of the ship is come on shore:
You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heav'n,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand
Enwheel thee round.
-- 503 --
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. But hark, a sail!
Within.]
A sail, a sail!
Gent.
They give this greeting to the cittadel:
This likewise is a friend.
Cas.
See for the news:
Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome, mistress.
[To Æmilia.
Let it not gall your patience, good Jago,
That I extend my manners. 'Tis my breeding
That gives me this bold shew of courtesie.
Jago.
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.
Jago.
In faith, too much;
I find it still, when I have list to sleep;
Marry before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.
Æmil.
You have little cause to say so.
Jago.
Come on, come on; you're pictures out of doors,
Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your huswifery, and housewives in your beds.
Des.
Oh fie upon thee, slanderer.
Jago.
Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk;
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.
Æmil.
You shall not write my praise.
-- 504 --
Jago.
No, let me not.
Des.
What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?
Jago.
Oh gentle lady, do not put me to't,
For I am nothing, if not critical.
Des.
Come, one assay. There's one gone to the harbour—
Jago.
Ay, madam.
Des.
I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise;
Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
Jago.
I am about it, but indeed my invention comes from my
pate, as birdlime does from freeze, it plucks out brains and all.
But my muse labours, and thus she is delivered.
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth it.
Des.
Well prais'd; how if she be black and witty?
Jago.
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.
Des.
Worse and worse.
Æmil.
How if fair and foolish?
Jago.
She never yet was foolish that was fair,
For even her folly helpt her to an heir.
Des.
These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools laugh i'th'
alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's foul
and foolish?
Jago.
There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks, which fair and wise ones do.
Des.
Oh heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best. But
what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed?
one, that in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the
vouch of very malice it self?
-- 505 --
Jago.
She that was ever fair, and never proud,
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud;
Never lackt 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,
Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly;
She that in wisdom never was so frail
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following, and not look behind;
She was a wight, (if ever such wight were)
Des.
To do what?
Jago.
To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.
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 profane and liberal counsellor?
Cas.
He speaks home, madam, you may relish him more in
the soldier, than in the scholar.
Jago. [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—I will † notegyve thee in
thine own courtship. You say true, 'tis so indeed—If such tricks
as these strip you out of your lieutenancy, it had been better
you had nor kiss'd your three fingers so oft, which now again
you are most apt to play the Sir in. Very good—well kiss'd
and excellent curtesie—'tis so indeed—Yet again—your fingers
to your lips? would they were clister-pipes for your sake.
[Trumpet.
The Moor, I know his trumpet.
Cas.
'Tis truly so.
Des.
Let's meet him, and receive him.
Cas.
Lo, where he comes!
-- 506 --
SCENE VI.
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. My soul's joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow 'till they have waken'd death:
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 increase,
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.
And this and this the greatest discords be
[Kissing her.
That e'er our hearts shall make.
Jago.
Oh you are well-tun'd now; but I'll let down the pegs
that make this musick, as honest as I am.
[Aside.
Oth.
Come, let's to the castle.
Now, 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
-- 507 --
In mine own comfort. Pr'ythee, good Jago,
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers:
Bring thou the master to the cittadel,
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.
SCENE VII.
Manent Jago and Rodorigo.
Jago.
Do you meet me presently at the harbour. Come thither,
if thou be'st valiant; as they say, base men being in love,
have then a nobility in their natures, more than is native to
them—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.
Jago.
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?
When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there
should be a game to inflame it, and to give satiety a fresh appetite;
loveliness in favour, sympathy in years, manners, and
beauties: all which the Moor is defective in. Now for want of
these requir'd conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find it
self abus'd, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the
Moor; very nature will instruct her in it, and compel her to some
second choice. Now, Sir, this granted, (as it is a most pregnant
and unforc'd position) who stands so eminent in the degree
of this fortune, as Cassio does? a knave very voluble; no further
conscionable, than in putting on the meer form of civil and human
-- 508 --
seeming, for the better compassing of his salt and most hidden
loose affection? a slippery and subtile knave, a finder of occasions;
that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, tho'
true advantage never present it self. A devilish knave! besides, the
knave is handsom, young, and hath all those requisites in him,
that folly and green minds look after. A pestilent compleat
knave! and the woman hath found him already.
Rod.
I cannot believe that of her, she's full of most bless'd
condition.
Jago.
Bless'd figs end! the wine she drinks is made of grapes.
If she had been bless'd, she would never have lov'd the Moor:
bless'd pudding! didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of
his hand? didst not mark that?
Rod.
Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesie.
Jago.
Letchery, by this hand; an index, and obscure prologue
to the history of lust, and foul thoughts. They met so near
with their lips, that their breaths embrac'd together. Villanous
thoughts, Rodorigo! when these d notemutualities so marshal the way,
hard at hand comes the master, and main exercise th'incorporate
conclusion: pish—But, 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 tainting his discipline, or from what other course
you please, which the time shall more favourably minister.
Rod.
Well.
Jago.
Sir, he's rash, and very sudden in choler: and happily
may strike at you. Provoke him that he may; for even out of
that will I cause those of Cyprus to mutiny: whose qualification
shall come into no true taste again, but by displanting of Cassio. So
shall you have a shorter journey to your desires, by the means I
shall then have to prefer them: And the impediments most profitably
removed, without which there was no expectation of our
prosperity.
-- 509 --
Rod.
I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity.
Jago.
I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the cittadel. I
must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewel.
Rod.
Adieu.
[Exit.
SCENE VIII.
Manet Jago.
Jago.
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, (though peradventure
I stand accountant for as great a sin,)
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leapt into my seat. The thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my 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 jealousie so strong,
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on;
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the e noteright 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,
-- 510 --
Even to madness. 'Tis here—but yet confus'd,
Knavery's plain face is never seen, 'till us'd.
[Exit.
SCENE IX.
The Street.
Enter Herald, with a Proclamation.
Her.
It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant General,
that upon certain tidings now arriv'd, importing the
meer perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into
triumph: Some to dance, some to make bonefires, each man
to what sport and revels his mind leads him. For besides this
beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. So much
was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and
there is full liberty of feasting, from this present hour of five,
'till the bell have toll'd eleven.
Bless the isle of Cyprus, and our noble General Othello.
[Exit.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.
Oth.
Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night.
Let's teach our selves that honourable stop,
Not to out-sport discretion.
Cas.
Jago hath direction what to do:
But notwithstanding with my personal eye
Will I look to't.
Oth.
Jago 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.
-- 511 --
Enter Jago.
Cas.
Welcome, Jago; we must to the watch.
Jago.
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 the wanton
night with her: and she is sport for Jove.
Cas.
She's a most exquisite lady.
Jago.
And I'll warrant her full of game.
Cas.
Indeed she's a most fresh and delicate creature.
Jago.
What an eye she has? methinks it sounds a parley to
provocation.
Cas.
An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.
Jago.
And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
Cas.
She is indeed perfection.
Jago.
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 Jago: I have very poor and unhappy
brains for drinking. I could well wish courtesie would invent
some other custom of entertainment.
Jago.
Oh, they our are friends: but one cup, I'll drink for you.
Cas.
I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily
qualified too: and behold what innovation it makes here. I am
unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness
with any more.
Jago.
What, man? 'tis a night of revels, the gallants desire
it.
Cas.
Where are they?
Jago.
Here at the door; I pray you call them in.
Cas.
I'll do't, but it dislikes me.
[Exit Cassio.
Jago.
If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
-- 512 --
With that which he hath drunk 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 in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,
Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,
f noteAnd 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.
SCENE X.
Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen.
Cas.
'Fore heav'n, they have given me a rouse already.
Mont.
Good faith a little one: not past a pint, as I am a soldier.
Jago.
Some wine ho!
[Jago sings.
And let me the canakin 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.
Jago.
I learn'd it in England: where indeed they are most potent
in potting. Your Dane, your German, and your swag-belly'd
-- 513 --
Hollander,—drink ho—are nothing to your English.
Cas.
Is your Englishman so exquisite in his drinking?
Jago.
Why he drinks you with facility your Dane dead
drunk. He g notesweats not to overthrow your Almain. He gives
your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be fill'd.
Cas.
To the health of our General.
Mont.
I am for it, lieutenant: and I'll do you justice.
Jago.
Oh sweet England.
King Stephen 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 tailor lown:
He was a wight of high renown,
And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis pride that pulls the country down,
And take thy old cloak about thee.
Some wine ho.
Cas.
Why this is a more exquisite song than the other.
Jago.
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.
Jago.
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.
Jago.
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 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
-- 514 --
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.
SCENE XI.
Manent Jago and Montano.
Mont.
To the platform, masters, come, let's see the watch.
Jago.
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?
Jago.
'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.
Jago.
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;
-- 515 --
It were an honest action to say so
Unto the Moor,
Jago.
Not I, for this fair island;
I do love Cassio well, and would do much
To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noise?
Re-enter Cassio pursuing Rodorigo.
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
twiggen bottle.
Rod.
Beat me—
Cas.
Dost thou prate, rogue?
Mon.
Nay, good lieutenant?
[Staying him.
I pray you, Sir, hold your hand.
Cas.
Let me go, Sir, or I'll h noteknock you o'er the mazzard.
Mon.
Come, come, you're drunk.
Cas.
Drunk?—
[They fight.
Jago.
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!
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.
Jago.
Hold ho! lieutenant—Sir—Montano—Gentlemen—
-- 516 --
Have you forgot all place of sense 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 Jago, that looks dead with grieving,
Speak: who began this? on thy love I charge thee.
Jago.
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,
Sword 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!
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, Jago, can inform you,
While I spare speech, which something now offends me,
-- 517 --
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 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 his offence,
Tho' he had twinn'd with me both at a birth,
Shall lose me. What, in a town of war,
Yet wild, the peoples hearts brim-full of fear,
To manage private and domestick quarrel?
In night, and on the court and guard of safety?
'Tis monstrous. Say Jago, 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.
Jago.
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;
-- 518 --
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 your self 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, Jago,
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, away to bed.
Sir, for your hurts, my self will be your surgeon.
Lead him off:
Jago, look with care about the town,
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
Come, Desdemona, 'tis the soldier's life,
To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.
[Exeunt.
-- 519 --
SCENE XIII.
Manent Jago and Cassio.
Jago.
What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Cas.
Past all surgery.
Jago.
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, Jago, my reputation—
Jago.
As I am an honest man, I had thought you had received
some bodily wound; there is more i notesense 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 your self 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? and speak, parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear?
and discourse fustian with ones own shadow? oh thou invisible
spirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call
thee devil.
Jago.
What was he that you follow'd with your sword? what
had he done to you?
Cas.
I know not.
Jago.
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 selve; into
beasts.
-- 520 --
Jago.
Why, but you are now well enough: how came you
thus recover'd?
Cas.
It hath pleas'd the devil, drunkenness, to give place to the
devil, wrath; one unperfectness shews me another, to make me
frankly despise my self.
Jago.
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 befaln: 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.
Jago.
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!
Jago.
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
devotement 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.
Jago.
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
-- 521 --
of my fortunes, if they check me.
Jago.
You are in the right: good night, lieutenant, I must
to the watch.
Cas.
Good night, honest Jago.
[Exit Cassio.
SCENE XIV.
Manet Jago.
Jago.
And what's he then, that says I play the villain?
When this advice is free I give, and honest,
Likely to thinking, and indeed the course
To win the Moor again. For 'tis most easie
Th' inclining Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit: she's fram'd as fruitful
As the free elements. And then for her
To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
His soul is so enfetter'd to her love
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
Even as her appetite shall play the God
With his weak function. 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,
-- 522 --
And out of her own goodness make the net
That shall † noteenmesh them all. How now, Rod'rigo!
SCENE XV.
Enter Rodorigo.
Rod.
I follow here in the chace, not like a hound that
hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My mony 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 no mony at all, and a little more wit, return again to
Venice.
Jago.
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.
Tho' other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first, will first be ripe:
Content thy self a while. In troth 'tis morning;
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
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 to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him jump, when he may Cassio find
Solliciting his wife: ay, that's the way:
Dull not device, by coldness and delay.
[Exit.
-- 523 --
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
