SCENE III.
A Hall in the Castle.
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.
-- 540 --
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;
[To Desdemona.
That profit's yet to come 'twixt me and you.—
Good night.
[Exeunt Oth., Des., and Attend.
Enter Iago.
Cas.
Welcome, Iago: we must to the watch.
Iago.
Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten
o'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 is a most fresh and delicate creature.
Iago.
What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a
parley of provocation9 note.
Cas.
An inviting eye; and yet methinks right
modest.
Iago.
And, when she speaks, is it not an alarum to
love1 note?
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 the 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.
-- 541 --
Iago.
O! they are our 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.
Iago.
What, man! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants
desire it.
Cas.
Where are they?
Iago.
Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.
Cas.
I'll do't, but it dislikes me.
[Exit Cassio.
Iago.
If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool, Roderigo,
Whom love has turn'd almost the wrong side outward,
To Desdemona hath to-night carous'd
Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch.
Three lads of Cyprus2 note,—noble, swelling spirits, 11Q1084
That hold their honours in 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.
Re-enter Cassio, with him Montano, and Gentlemen.
Cas.
'Fore heaven, they have given me a rouse
already3 note.
-- 542 --
Mon.
Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I
am a soldier.
Iago.
Some wine, ho!
And let me the canakin clink, clink;
[Sings.
And let me the canakin clink:
A soldier's a man;
A life's but a span4 note
;
Why then let a soldier drink.
Some wine, boys!
[Wine brought in.
Cas.
'Fore heaven, an excellent song.
Iago.
I learned it in England, where (indeed) 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 exquisite in his drinking5 note?
Iago.
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.
Iago.
O sweet England!
King Stephen was a worthy peer6 note,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
-- 543 --
He held them sixpence 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,
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 must be saved, and there be
souls must not be saved.
Iago.
It is 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 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 th' other: 'tis pity of him.
-- 544 --
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 set7 note,
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 virtue8 note that appears in Cassio,
And looks not on his evils. Is not this true?
Enter Roderigo.
Iago.
How now, Roderigo?
[Aside to him.
I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.
[Exit Roderigo.
Mon.
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 to the Moor.
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! Help9 note!
Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo.
Cas.
You rogue! you rascal!
Mon.
What's the matter, lieutenant?
Cas.
A knave!—teach me my duty?
-- 545 --
I'll beat the knave into a wicker bottle1 note.
Rod.
Beat me!
Cas.
Dost thou prate, rogue?
[Striking Roderigo.
Mon.
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.
Mon.
Come, come; you're drunk.
Cas.
Drunk!
[They fight.
Iago.
Away, I say! [Aside to Rod.] go out, and cry—a mutiny.
[Exit Rod.
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?—Diablo2 note, ho!
The town will rise: God's will3 note! lieutenant, hold!
You will be sham'd for ever.
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
Oth.
What is the matter here?
Mon.
'Zounds! I bleed still: I am hurt to the death4 note.
[He faints.
Oth.
Hold, for your lives!
-- 546 --
Iago.
Hold, hold, lieutenant!—sir, Montano,—gentlemen!—
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty5 note?
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 rage6 note,
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.—
Silence that dreadful bell! it frights the isle
From her propriety.—What is the matter, masters?—
Honest Iago, 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
Divesting them for bed; and then, but now,
(As if some planet had unwitted men)
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
Those legs, that brought me to a part of it.
Oth.
How came it, Michael, you were thus forgot7 note?
Cas.
I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.
Oth.
Worthy Montano8 note, you were wont be civil;
-- 547 --
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 Ispare 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,
Unless self-charity 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 judgment collied 11Q10858 note,
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,
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 safety1 note!
-- 548 --
'Tis monstrous.—Iago, who began it2 note?
Mon.
If partially affin'd, or leagu'd in office3 note,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.
Iago.
Touch me not so near.
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,
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 can I not report4 note:—
But men are men; the best sometimes forget:—
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, received
From him that fled some strange indignity,
-- 549 --
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 matter5 note?
Oth.
All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed.—
Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon.—
Lead him off6 note.—
[Montano is led 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 all but Iago and Cassio.
Iago.
What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Cas.
Ay, past all surgery.
Iago.
Marry, heaven forbid!
Cas.
Reputation, reputation, reputation! O7 note! 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 offence in
that8 note, than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and
-- 550 --
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 despised, than to deceive
so good a commander, with so light9 note, so drunken, and
so indiscreet an officer. Drunk1 note? and speak parrot?
and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse fustian
with one's own shadow?—O thou invisible spirit of
wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call
thee—devil.
Iago.
What was he that you followed 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.—O God!:
that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to steal
away their brains! that we should, with joy, revel,
pleasure2 note, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!
Iago.
Why, but you are now well enough: how
came you thus recovered?
Cas.
It hath pleased the devil, drunkenness, to give
place to the devil, wrath: one unperfectness shows me
another, to make me frankly despise myself.
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.
-- 551 --
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! O strange!—Every inordinate cup is unblessed,
and the ingredient is a devil.
Iago.
Come, come; good wine is a good familiar
creature, if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.
And, good lieutenant, I think, you think I love you.
Cas.
I have well approved it, sir.—I drunk!
Iago.
You, or any man living, may be drunk at
some time, man. I'll 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 yourself freely to
her; importune her; she'll help to put you in your
place again. She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so
blessed a disposition, that she holds it a vice in her
goodness, not to do more than she is requested. This
broken joint3 note between you and her husband entreat
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.
[Exit Cassio.
Iago.
And what's he, then, that says I play the villain?
-- 552 --
When this advice is free I give, and honest,
Probal 11Q10864 note to thinking, and, indeed, the course
To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy
The 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. How am I, then, a villain,
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
When devils will their blackest sins put on,
They do suggest5 note at first with heavenly shows,
As I do now; for whiles this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,—
That she repeals him6 note 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 all7 note.—How now, Roderigo!
Enter Roderigo.
Rod.
I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound
that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is
-- 553 --
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 money at all, and a little more wit, return again to
Venice8 note.
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.
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe;
Content thyself a while.—By the mass, 'tis morning9 note;
Pleasure, and action, make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get thee gone. [Exit Rod.] Two things are to be done.
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
I'll set her on:
Myself, the while1 note, 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.
[Exit.
-- 554 --
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
