fense in That than in Reputation. Reputation is an idle, and moft falfe impofition; oft got without merit, and loft without deferving. You have loft no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such 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 offenceless dog, to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him again, and he's yours.

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 mass of things, but nothing. diftinctly 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, pleafance, revel, and applaufe, transform ourselves into beafts.

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

Caf. It has pleas'd the devil, drunkenness, to give place to the devil, wrath; one unperfectnefs fhews me another, to make me frankly defpife myfelf.

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

Caf. I will ask him for my place again; he fhall

tell

tell me, I am a drunkard !—had I as many mouths as Hydra, fuch an anfwer would ftop them all. To be now a fenfible man, by-and-by a fool, and prefently a beaft!-Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.

Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well us'd: exclaim no more against it. And good lieutenant, I think, you think, I love

you.

Caf. I have well approv'd it, Sir. I drunk!

lago. You, or any man living, may be drunk at fome time, man. I tell you what you fhall do our general's wife is now the General. I may fay fo, in this refpect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark and denotement of her parts and graces. Confefs yourself freely to her importune her help, to put you in your Place again. She is of fo free, fo kind, fo apt, fo bleffed a difpofition, fhe holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than fhe is requested. This broken joint, between you and her husband, intreat her to fplinter. And, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love fhall grow ftronger than it was before.

Caf. You advise me well.

Iago. I proteft, in the fincerity of love, and honest kindness.

Caf. I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will befeech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am defperate of my fortunes, if they check me here.

Iago. You are in the right: good night, lieutenant, I muft to the Watch.

Caf. Good-night, honeft Iago.

[Exit Caffio.

SCENE

Iago. AND what's he then, that says, I play the

villain?

When this advice is free I give, and honeft,
Likely to thinking, and, indeed, the courfe
To win the Moor again. For 'tis most easy
Th' inclining Defdemona to fubdue

In any honeft fuit; fhe's fram'd as fruitful
As the free elements. And then for her
To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptifm,
All feals and fymbols of redeemed fin,

His foul is fo enfetter'd to her love

That fhe may make, unmake, do what she lift,
Even as her appetite fhall play the God
With his weak function. Am I then a villain,
To counfel Caffio to this parallel course,
Directly to his Good? Divinity of Hell!
When Devils will their blackeft fins put on,
They do fuggeft at firft with heav'nly Shews,
As I do now. -For while this honeft fool
Plies Defdemona to repair his fortune,
And the for him pleads ftrongly to the Moor;
I'll pour this peftilence into his ear,
That the repeals him for her body's luft:
And by how much fhe ftrives to do him good
She fhall 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 all. How now, Rodorigo!

Rod. I

Do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the ery. My money is almoft fpent; I have been to

night exceedingly well cudgelled; and, I think, the iffue will be, I fhall have fo much experience for my pains; and fo with no money at all, and a little more wit, return a gain to Venice.

Iago. How poor are they, that have not patience? What wound did ever heal but by degrees;

Thou know'ft, we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;

And wit depends on dilatory time:

Does't not go well? Caffio hath beaten thee,
And thou by that fmall hurt haft cashier'd Caffio.
Tho' other things grow fair against the Sun,
Yet fruits, that bloffom firft, will firft be ripe :
Content thyself a-while. In troth, 'tis morning:
Pleasure and action make the hours feem fhort.
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
Away, I fay; thou fhalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get thee gone.
[Exit Rodorigo.

Two things are to be done;

My Wife muft move for Caffio to her miftrefs:
I'll fet her on:

Myfelf, the while, to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him jump, when he may Caffio find
Soliciting his Wife,-ay, that's the way:
Dull not, Device, by coldness and delay.

ACT

MAS

[Exit.

HI. S CENE I.

Before OTHELLO's Palace.

Enter Caffio, with Musicians.

CASSIO.

ASTERS, play here, I will content your pains,

Something that's brief; and bid, good-morrow, General.

[Mufic plays; and enter Clown from the House.

Clown.

Clown. Why, mafters, have your inflruments beenin Naples, that they fpeak i'th' nose thus?

Muf. How, Sir, how?

Clown. Are thefe, I pray you, wind-inftruments?
Muf. Ay, marry are they, Sir.

Clown. Oh, thereby hangs a tail.
Muf. Whereby hangs a tale, Sir?

Clown. Marry, Sir, by many a wind-inftument that I know. But, Mafters, here's money for you: and the General fo likes your mufic, that he defires you for love's fake to make no more noise with it.

Muf. Well, Sir, we will not.

Clown. If you have any mufic that may not be heard, to't again: But, as they fay, to hear mufic, the General does not greatly care.

Muf. We have none fuch, Sir.

Clown. Then put up your pipes in your bag, and bye away. Go, vanish into air, away.

[Exeunt Muficians.

Caf. Doft thou hear, mine honest friend? Clown. No, I hear not your honeft friend; I hear. you.

Caf. Prythee, keep up thy quillets, there's a poor piece of gold for thee: for the gentlewoman, that attends the General's wife, be ftirring, tell her, there's one Caffio entreats of her a little favour of speech. Wilt thou do this?

Clown. She is ftirring, Sir; if she will ftir hither, I fhall seem to notify unto her.

Caf. Do, my good friend.

To him, enter Iago.

In happy time, Iago.

Iago. You have not been a-bed then ?

[Exit Clown.

Caf. Why, no; the day had broke, before we parted, I have made bold to fend in to your wife;

My fuit is, that fhe will to Desdemona

Procure me fome accefs. .. .: