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 already.

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,

And let me the canakin clink:

A soldier's a man;

A life's but a span;

Why, then, let a soldier drink.

Some wine, boys!

[Sings.

[Wine brought in.

Cas. 'Fore Heaven, an excellent song.

2

Iago. I learned it in England, where (indeed) they arę 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 drinking ? 3 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 peer,

His breeches cost him but a crown ;
He held them sixpence all too dear,

With that he called the tailor-lown.

1 Every scheme subsisting only in the imagination may be termed a

dream.

2 See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2, note 1, p. 264.

3 Thus the quarto 1622. The folio has exquisite.

4 i. e. drink as much as you do.

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 gen-
eral, 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 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?

I

[Aside.

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 ingraft2 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! help!

Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO.

What's the matter, lieutenant?

Cas. You rogue! you rascal!

Mon.

Cas. A knave!-teach me my duty!

I'll beat the knave into a twiggen3 bottle.
Rod. Beat me!

1 If he have no drink, he'll keep awake while the clock strikes two rounds, or four-and-twenty hours.--The word horologe is familiar to mest of our ancient writers.

Mon. Come, come, you're drunk.

Cas. Drunk!

[They fight.

Iago. Away, I say! go out, and cry-A mutiny.
[Aside to ROD., who goes

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 shamed forever.

Enter OTHELLO and Attendants.

Oth.
What is the matter here?
Mon. I bleed still; I am hurt to the death;—he dies.1
Oth. Hold, for your lives.

Iago. Hold, hold, lieutenant, sir, Montano,-gen-
tlemen,-

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 turned 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, masters?
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

2

1 The first quarto omits the words he dies, and has zounds! at the commencement of the line. Montano may be supposed to say he dies, i. e. he shall die. Othello, in the very next speech, says, He dies upon his motion."

2 i. e. on our station. This seems the leading signification, for the principal camp-guard of a regiment is called the quarter-guard; but a regiment in quarters has no such guard.

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
These legs, that brought me to a part of it!

Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?1
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,2 for the name
Of a night brawler? Give me answer to it.

Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger.
Your officer, lago, 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;
Unless self-charity 3 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,*
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 approved 5 in this offence,
Though he had twinned with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me.-What! in a town of war,

1 i. e. you have thus forgot yourself.

2 Character.

3 Care of one's self.

4 Collied is blackened, as with smut or coal; and, figuratively, means here obscured, darkened.

5 Convicted by proof.