SCENE

XI.

Manent lago and Montano.

Mont. To the platform, mafters; come, let's fet the

watch.

Iago. You fee this fellow that is gone before; He is a foldier fit to stand by Cæfar,

And give direction. And do but fee his vice;
'Tis to his virtues a juft equinox,

The one as long's the other. 'Tis pity of him;
I fear the truft Othello puts him in,
On fome odd time of his infirmity,

Will fhake this island.

Mont. But is he often thus ?

Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his fleep.
He'll watch the horologue a double fet,
If drink rock not his cradle.

Mont. It were well

The General were put in mind of it:
Perhaps he fees it not; or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Caffio,
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 fuch a place as his own fecond,
With one of an ingraft infirmity;

It were an honeft action to fay fo
Unto the Moor.

lago. Not I; for this fair ifland;

I do love Caffio well, and would do much
To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noife?

[Within, Help! help!

Re-enter Caffio, purfuing Rodorigo.

Caf. You rogue! you rafcal!

Mont. What's the matter, Lieutenant?

Caf. A knave teach me my duty! I'll beat the knave

into a twiggen bottle.

Rod. Beat me

Caf. Doft thou prate, rogue?

Mont.

Mont. Nay, good Lieutenant;

I pray you, Sir, hold your hand,

[Staying him.

Caf. Let me go, sir, or I'll knock you o'er the maz

zard.

Mont. Come, come, you're drunk.

Caf. Drunk?

[They fight.

lago. Away, I fay; go out, and cry a mutiny. [Exit Rodorigo. Nay, good Lieutenant-Alas, Gentleman --Help, ho! -Lieutenant- Sir MontanoHelp, mafters! here's a goodly watch indeed Who's that who rings the bell diablo, ho! [Bell rings. The town will rife. Fie, fie, Lieutenant! hold: You will be fham'd for ever.

SCENE XII. Enter Othello, and Attendants.

Oth. What is the matter here?

Mont. I bleed ftill, I am hurt, but not to th' death. Oth. Hold, for your lives.

Iago. Hold, ho! Lieutenant-Sir-Montano-
Gentlemen

Have you forgot all fenfe of place and duty?
The General speaks to you-hold, hold, for fhame-
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 Chriftian fhame, put by this barbarous brawl;
He that ftirs next to carve for his own rage,
Holds his foul light: he dies upon his motion.
Silence that dreadful bell; it frights the ifle
From her propriety. What is the matter?
Honeft lago, 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
Divefting them for bed; and then, but now-
(As if fome planet had unwitted men),
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breafts,
In oppofition bloody. I can't speak
Any beginning to this peevith odds,
And 'would, in action glorious I had loft

Thofe

Thofe legs that brought me to a part of it!

Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? Caf I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.

Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be civil: The gravity and ftillness of your youth

The world hath noted; and your name is great
In mouths of wifeft cenfure. 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, lago, can inform you,

While I fpare fpeech, which fomething now offends me,.
Of all that I do know; nor know I aught
By me that's faid or done amifs this night,
Unless felf-charity* be fometimes a vice,
And to defend ourselves it be a fin,
When violence affails us.

Oth. Now, by Heav'n,

My blood begins my fafer guides to rule;
And paffion, having my beft judgment choler'd,
Affays to lead the way. If I once ftir,

Or do but lift this arm, the best of you

Shall fink in my rebuke. Give me to know
How this foul rout began; who fet it on;
And he that is approv'd in this offence,
Tho' he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall lofe me What, in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brim-full of fear,
To manage private and domeftic quarrel?
In night, and on the court and guard of fafety?
'Tis monftrous. Say, Iago, who began't?

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

lago. Touch me not fo near:

I'd rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it fhould do offence to Michael Caffio:
Yet I perfuade myfelf, to fpeak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus 'tis, General:
Montano and myfelf being in fpeech,

* felf charity, for charity inherent in the perfon's nature.

There

There comes a fellow crying out for help,
And Caffio following with determin'd sword,
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Caffio, and intreats his paufe;
Myfelf the crying fellow did purfue,
Left by his clamour (as it fo fell out)

The town might fall in fright. He, fwift of foot,
Out-ran my purpose: I return'd, the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of fwords,
And Caffio high in oath; which till to-night
1 ne'er might fay before. When I came back,
(For this was brief), I found them close together
At blow and thruft; even as again they were,
When you yourself did part them.

More of this matter cannot I report.

But men are men; the best fometimes forget:
Tho' Caffio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage ftrike those that wish them beft;
Yet furely Caffio, I believe, receiv'd

From him that fled fome ftrange indignity,
Which patience could not pafs.

Oth. I know, Iago,

Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Caffio. Caffio, I love thee;
But never more be officer of mine.

Enter Defdemona attended.

Look if my gentle love be not rais'd up :
I'll make thee an example.

Def. What's the matter?

Oth. All is well, fweeting come to bed.
Sir, for your hurts, myfelf will be your furgeon.
Lead him off.

Iago, look with care about the town,

And filence thofe whom this vile brawl distracted.
Come, Desdemona; 'tis the foldier's life,

To have their balmy flumbers wak'd with ftrife.

[Exeunt. SCENE XIII. Manent Iago and Caffio. Lago. What, are you hurt, Lieutenant ? Caf. Paft all furgery.

Iago. Marry, Heav'n forbid !

Caf. Reputation, reputation, reputation! oh I have loft my reputation! I have loft the immortal part of myself, and what remains is beftial. My reputation! Iago, my reputation

lago. As I am an honeft man, I had thought you had receiv'd fome bodily wound; there is more fenfe in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and mofl false impofition; oft got without merit, and lost without deferving. You have loft no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself fuch a lofer. What, man,there are ways to recover the General again. You are but now caft in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice; even fo as one would beat his of fenceless dog, to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him again, and he's your's.

Caf. I will rather fue to be defpis'd, than to deceive fo good a commander, with fo flight, fo drunken, and fo indifcreet an officer. Drunk? and fpeak parrot * ? and fquabble? fwagger? fwear? and difcourfe fuftian with one's own fhadow? Oh thou invincible spirit of wine! if thou haft no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.

Iago. What was he that you follow'd with your fword? what had he done to you?

Caf. I know not.

Iago. Is't poffible?

Caf. I remember a mafs of things, but nothing dif tinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that men fhould put an enemy in their mouths, to fteal away their brains that we fhould with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beafts.

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

Caf. It has pleased the devil Drunkenness to give place to the devil Wrath; one unperfectnefs fhews me another, to make me frankly despise myself.

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

A phrafe fignifying to act foolishly and childishly.