not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and I fpeak well enough. Gent. Excellent well.

Caf. Why very well then: you must not think then that I am drunk.

SCENE XI.

Manent Jago and Montano.

[Exit.

Mont. To the platform, mafters, come, let's fee the watch. Jago. You fee this fellow that is gone before,

He is a foldier, fit to ftand by Cafar,

And give direction. And do but fee 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 fome odd time of his infirmity,
Will fhake this island.

Mon. But is he often thus ?

Jago. '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.

Jago. How now, Rodorigo!

I pray you after the lieutenant, go.

Mont. And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard fuch a place as his own second, With one of an ingraft infirmity;

[Exit Rod.

It were an honest action to say so
Unto the Moor,

Jago. Not I, for this fair island;

I do love Caffio well, and would do much

To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noise?

Re-enter Caffio pursuing Rodorigo.

Caf. You rogue! you rafcal!-

Mon. 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?

Mon. Nay, good lieutenant?

I pray you, Sir, hold your hand.

h

[Staying him.

Caf. Let me go, Sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. Mon. Come, come, you're drunk.

Caf. Drunk?

[They fight. Jago. Away I fay, go out and cry a mutiny. [Exit Rodorigo. Nay, good lieutenant

Help ho! ----Lieutenant

4109

Alas, gentlemen

-Sir, Montano

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
Sir --- Montano-Gentlemen

Ttt 2

h know.

Have

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 arifeth this?
Are we turn'd Turks? and to our felves 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 foul 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
Divefting them for bed; and then, but now
As if fome planet had unwitted men,
Sword out, and tilting one at other's breasts,
In oppofition bloody. I can't speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds,
And would in action glorious I had loft
Those 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 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, Jago, can inform you,

While I fpare fpeech, which something now offends me,

Of

Of all that I do know, nor know I ought
By me that's faid or done amiss this night,
Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend our felves 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 best judgment choler'd,
Affays to lead the way. If I once stir,

Or do but lift this arm,

Shall fink in my rebuke.

the best of you

Give me to know

How this foul rout began? who fet it on?
And he that is approv'd in his offence,
Tho' he had twinn'd with me both at a birth,
Shall lofe 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 fafety?
'Tis monftrous. Say Jago, 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.

Jago. Touch me not so near:

I'd rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Caffio.
Yet I perfwade my felf, 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 Caffio following with determin'd fword,
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Caffio, and intreats his pause;
My felf the crying fellow did pursue;

Left

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;

I ne'er might say before.

which 'till to-night

When I came back,

(For this was brief) I found them close together
At blow and thrüft, 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 fometimes forget;
Tho' Caffio did fome little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike thofe that with them best,
Yet furely Caffio, I believe, receiv'd

From him that fled some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pafs.

Oth. I know, Jago,

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 Desdemona 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, away to bed. Sir, for your hurts, my felf will be your furgeon. Lead him off:

Jago, look with care about the town,

And filence thofe whom this vile Brawl diftracted.
Come, Desdemona, 'tis the foldier's life,
To have their balmy flumbers wak'd with ftrife.

[Exeunt.

SCENE