Jag. If I can faften but one cup vpon him,
With that which he hath drunke to night already,
Hee'll be as full of quarrell and offence,

As my young miftris dog:-now my ficke foole Roderigo;
Whom loue has turn'd almost the wrong fide outward,

To Defdemona, hath to night caroust

Potations pottle deepe, and hee's to watch
Three lads of Cypres, noble fwelling fpirits,
That hold their honour, in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike ifle,

Haue I to night fluftred with flowing cups,

And the watch too: now mongst this flocke of drunkards,
I am to put our Cassio in some action,

That may offend the isle;

Enter Montanio, Caffio, and others.

But here they come :

If confequence doe but approoue my dreame,
My boate failes freely, both with winde and streame.
Caf. Fore God they haue giuen me a roufe already.
Mon. Good faith a little one, not past a pint,
As I am a fouldier.

lag. Some wine ho:

And let me the cannikin clinke, clinke,

And let me the cannikin clinke, clinke:

A fouldier's a man, a life's but a span,

Why then let a fouldier drinke.-Some wine boyes,

Caf. Fore God an excellent fong.

lag. I learn'd it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your Germaine, and your fwag-bellied Hollander; drinke ho, are nothing to your English: Caf. Is your English man so expert * in his drinking?

Iag. Why he drinkes you with facillity, your Dane dead drunke he fweats not to ouerthrow your Almaine; he giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be fild.

Caf. To the health of our generall.

Mon. I am for it lieutenant, and I will doe you inftice.

*

Iag. O fweete England, -king Stephen was a worthy

peere,

His breeches coft him but a crowne,
He held 'em fixpence all too deere,
With that he cald the taylor lowne,
He was a wight of high renowne,
And thou art but of low degree,

Tis pride that puls the countrey downe,

Then take thine owd cloke about thee.-Some wine ho.

Caf. Fore God this is a more exquifite fong then the other. Jag. Will you hear't agen?

Caf. No, for I hold him vnworthy of his place, that does thofe things: well, God's aboue all, and there bee foules that muft bee faued.

lag. It is true good leiutenant.

Caf. For mine own part, no offence to the generall, nor any man of quality, I hope to be faued.

Iag. And fo doe I leiutenant.

Caf. I, but by your leaue, not before me; the leiutenant is to be faued before the ancient. Let's ha no more of this, let's to our affaires: God forgiue vs our fins: gentlemen, let's looke to our bufineffe; doe not thinke gentlemen I am drunke, this is my ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my left hand: I am not drunke now, I can ftand well enough, and fpeake well enough.

All. Excellent well.

was and.

† Why.

God omitted.

Caf.

Caf. Very well then you must not thinke, that I am

drunke.

Mon. To the plotforme maisters.

watch.

Ex.

Come, let's fet the

lag. You fee this fellow that is gone before,
He is a fouldier fit to ftand by Cafar,
And giue direction: and doe but fee his vice,
Tis to his vertue, a iuft equinox,

The one as long as th'other: tis pitty of him,
I feare the truft Othello put him in,

On fome odde time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.

Mon. But is he often thus.

lag. Tis euermore the prologue to his sleepe: Hee'le watch the horolodge a double fet,

If drinke rocke not his cradle.

Mon. Twere well the generall wete put in minde of it,

Perhaps he fees it not, or his good nature,

Praises the vertues † that appeares in Caffio,

And looke‡ not on his euills: is not this true?

Enter Roderigo.

Lag. How now Roderigo,

I pray you after the leiutenant, goe

Mon. And tis great pitty that the noble Moore
Should hazard fuch a place, as his owne fecond,
With one of an ingraft infirmity:

It were an honest action to say so to the Moore.
Iag. Not I, for this faire ifland:

I doe loue Caffio well, and would doe much,

Exit Rod.

Helpe, helpe, within.

To cure him of this euill: but harke, what noyse.

were.

↑ vertus, I lookes.

Enter

Enter Caffio, driuing in Roderigo.

Caf. Zouns, you rogue, you rascall.

Mon. What's the matter leiutenant?

Caf. A knaue, teach mee my duty: but I'le beate the knaue into a wicker bottle.

Rod. Beate me?

Caf. Doeft thou prate rogue?

Mon. Good leiutenant; pray fir hold your hand.

Caf. Let me goe fir, or Ile knocke you ore the mazzard.
Mon. Come, come, you are drunke.

Caf. Drunke?

lag. Away I fay, goe out and cry a muteny.

Nay good leiutenant: Godfwill gentlemen,
Helpe ho, leiutenant: fir Montanio, fir,
Helpe maifters, here's a goodly watch indeed,
Who's that that rings the bell? diablo-ho,
The towne will rife, Godfwill † leiutenant, hold,
You will be sham'd for euer.

They fight.

A bell rung.

Enter Othello, and gentlemen with weapons.

Oth. What is the matter here?

Mon. Zounst, I bleed ftill, I am hurt, to the death:
Oth. Hold, for your liues.

lag. Hold, hold leiutenant, fir Montanio, gentlemen, Haue you forgot all place of fence, and duty:

Hold, the generall fpeakes to you; hold, hold, for fhame.
Oth. Why how now ho, from whence arifes this?

Are we turn'd Turkes, and to our felues doe that,
Which heauen has forbid the Ottamites:

For christian fhame, put by this barbarous brawle;

Zouns omitted. †fie, fic. Zouns omitted.

He

He that stirres next, to carue forth his owne rage,
Holds his foule light, he dies vpon his motion;
Silence that dreadfull bell, it frights the isle
From her propriety; what's the matter masters ?
Honeft lago, that lookes dead with grieuing,
Speake, who began this, on thy loue I charge thee.

lag. I doe not know, friends all but now, euen now,
In quarter, and in termes, like bride and groome,
Deuefting them to bed, and then but now,
As if fome plannet had vnwitted men,
Swords out, and tilting one at others breast,
In oppofition bloody. I cannot speake
Any beginning to this peeuish odds;
And would in action glorious, I had loft
These legges, that brought me to a part of it.
Oth. How came it Michael, you were thus forgot?
Caf. I pray you pardon me, I cannot fpeake.
Oth. Worthy Montanio, you were wont be ciuill,
The grauity and ftilneffe of your youth,

The world hath noted, and your name is great,
In men of wisest cenfure: what's the matter

That you vnlace your reputation thus,
And spend your rich opinion, for the name
Of a night brawler? giue me answer to't?
Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger,
Your officer lago can informe you,

While I fpare fpeech, which fomething now offends me,
Of all that 1 doe know, nor know I ought
By me, that's fed or done amiffe this night,
Vnleffe felfe-charity be fometime a vice,
And to defend our felues it be a finne,
When violence assayles vs.

• for.

Thofe

Z

'Oth.

VOL. IV.