Imatges de pàgina
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Forgive our fins-gentlemen, let's look to our bufinefs. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk : this is my Ancient; this is my right-hand, and this is my left. I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and I speak well enough.

Gent. Excellent well.

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

SCEN NE XI,
Manent Iago and Montano.

Mont.

T

[Exit.

O the platform, mafters; come, let's fet the Watch.

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

And give direction.

And do but fee his vice;

'Tis to his virtues a juft equinox,

The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pity of him;

I fear, the truft Othello puts him in,

On fome odd time of his infirmity,

Will shake 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 Second, With one of an ingraft infirmity;

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

Iago. Not I, for this fair island;

I do love Caffio well, and would do much
To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noise ?
[Within] Help! help!

Re-enter Caffio, pursuing 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. 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

mazzard.

Mont. Come, come, you're drunk.

Caf. Drunk?

[They fight. Iago. Away, I say, go out and cry a mutiny.

[Exit Rodorigo. Nay, good lieutenant-Alas, gentlemenHelp, ho-Lieutenant-Sir-MontanoHelp, mafters.! here's a goodly watch, indeedWho'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.

N'E

XII.

Enter Othello, and Attendants.

S CE

Oth.

WH

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

Iago.

Have you forgot all fense of place and duty ?>
The General speaks to you-hold, hold, for fhame-
Oth. Why, how now, ho? from whence arifeth 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 firs 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 fpeak.
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 fpeak.
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, Iago, can inform you,

While I fpare speech, 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

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 set it on;
And he that is approv'd in this offence,
Tho' he had twin'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 safety?
'Tis monftrous. Say Iago, Who began't?

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

Iago. Touch me not fo near :

I'd rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Then it fhould do offence to Michael Caffio:
Yet I perfuade myfelf to speak the truth

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Shall nothing wrong him. Thus 'tis, General :
Montano and myself 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;
Myfelf the crying fellow did pursue,

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
I 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

When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report.

But men are men; the best sometimes forget;
Tho' Caffio did fome little wrong to him,

As men in rage ftrike thofe that wish them best,
Yet, furely, Caffio, I believe, receiv'd
From him, that fled, fome ftrange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.

Oth. I know, Iago,

Thy honefty 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, Sweeting, come to bed. Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your furgeon,. Lead him off.

Iago, look with care about the town,

And filence those whom this vile brawl distracted. Come, Desdemona, 'tis the foldiers' life,

To have their balmy flumbers wak'd with ftrife.

S CE

NE

[Exeunt

XIII.

Manent Iago and Caffio.

Jago. WHAT, are you hurt, lieutenant?

Caf. Paft all Surgery.

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—

Iago. As I am an honest man, I had thought, you had receiv'd fome bodily wound; there is more

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