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A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.
Enter MONTANO and two Gentlemen.

What from the cape can you discern at sea?

First Gent.
Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought flood;

I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main,

Descry a sail.

Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;

A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:

If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,

What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,

Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this? (10)

Sec. Gent.
A segregation of the Turkish fleet:

For do but stand upon the foaming shore,

The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds;

The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,

Seems to cast water on the burning bear,

And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:

I never did like molestation view

On the enchafed flood.

If that the Turkish fleet

Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd; (19)

It is impossible they bear it out. Enter a third Gentleman.

Third Gent.
News, lads! our wars are done.

This desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,

That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice

Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance

On most part of their fleet.

How! is this true?

Third Gent.
The ship is here put in,

A Veronesa; Michael Cassio,

Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,

Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea,

And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.

Third Gent.
But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort

Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,

And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted

With foul and violent tempest.

Pray heavens he be;

For I have served him, and the man commands

Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!

As well to see the vessel that's come in

As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,

Even till we make the main and the aerial blue

An indistinct regard.

Third Gent.
40Come, let's do so;

For every minute is expectancy

Of more arrivance. Enter CASSIO.

Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,

That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens

Give him defence against the elements,

For I have lost him on a dangerous sea.

Is he well shipp'd?

His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot

Of very expert and approved allowance; (50)

Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,

Stand in bold cure. [A cry within 'A sail, a sail, a sail!']
Enter a fourth Gentleman.

What noise?

Fourth Gent.
The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea

Stand ranks of people, and they cry 'A sail!'

My hopes do shape him for the governor. [Guns heard.

Sec. Gent.
They do discharge their shot of courtesy:

Our friends at least.

I pray you, sir, go forth,

And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.

Sec. Gent.
I shall. [Exit.

But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?

Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid

That paragons description and wild fame;

One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,

And in the essential vesture of creation

Does tire the ingener. Re-enter second Gentleman.

How now! who has put in?

Sec. Gent.
'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.

Has had most favorable and happy speed:

Tempests themselves, high seas and howling winds,

The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands,--

Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,-- (71)

As having sense of beauty, do omit

Their mortal natures, letting so safely by

The divine Desdemona.

What is she?

She that I spake of, our great captain's captain,

Left in the conduct of the bold lago,

Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts

A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,

And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,

That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,

Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, (81)

Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits,

And bring all Cyprus comfort! Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Attendants.

O, behold,

The riches of the ship is come on shore!

Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.

Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,

Before, behind thee and on every hand,

Enwheel thee round!

I thank you, valiant Cassio.

What tidings can you tell me of my lord?

He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught (90)

But that he's well and will be shortly here.

O, but I fear--How lost you company?

The great contention of the sea and skies

Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail. [Within 'A sail, a sail!' Guns heard.

Sec. Gent.
They give their greeting to the citadel:

This likewise is a friend.

See for the news. [Exit Gentleman.

Good ancient, you are welcome. [To Emilia]

Welcome, mistress:

Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,

That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding (100)

That gives me this bold show of courtesy. [Kissing her.

Sir, would she give you so much of her lips

As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,

You'ld have enough.

Alas, she has no speech.

In faith, too much;

I find it still, when I have list to sleep:

Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,

She puts her tongue a little in her heart,

And chides with thinking.

You have little cause to say so. (110)

Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,

Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,

Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,

Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.

O, fie upon thee, slanderer!

Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk:

You rise to play and go to bed to work.

You shall not write my praise.

No, let me not.

What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?

O gentle lady, do not put me to 't; (120)

For I am nothing, if not critical.

Come on, assay. There's one gone to the harbor?

Ay, madam.

I am not merry; but I do beguile

The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.

Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

I am about it; but indeed my invention

Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize;

It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labors,

And thus she is deliver'd. (130)

If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,

The one's for use, the other useth it.

Well praised! How if she be black and witty?

If she be black, and thereto have a wit,

She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.

Worse and worse.

How if fair and foolish?

She never yet was foolish that was fair;

For even her folly help'd her to an heir.

These are old fond paradoxes to

make fools laugh i' the alehouse. What miserable

praise hast thou for her that's foul and foolish?

There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,

But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.

O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the

worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow

on a deserving woman indeed, one that,

in the authority of her merit, did justly put on

the vouch of very malice itself?

She that was ever fair and never proud,

Had tongue at will and yet was never loud, (151)

Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay,

Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,'

She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,

Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,

She that in wisdom never was so frail

To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail,

She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind,

See suitors following and not look behind,

She was a wight, if ever such wight were,-- (160)

To do what?

To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.

O most lame and impotent conclusion!

Do not learn of him, Emilia, though

he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? is

he not a most profane and liberal counsellor?

He speaks home, madam: you may

relish him more in the soldier than in the


Aside He takes her by the palm:

ay, well said, whisper: with as little a web as

this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio.

Ay, smile upon her, do; I will gyve thee in

thine own courtship. You say true; 'tis so,

indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out of

your lieutenantry, it had been better you had

not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now

again you are most apt to play the sir in.

Very good; well kissed! an excellent courtesy!

'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers

to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes

for your sake! [Trumpet within.]

The Moor! (180)

I know his trumpet.

'Tis truly so.

Let's meet him and receive him.

Lo, where he comes! Enter OTHELLO and Attendants.

O my fair warrior!

My dear Othello!

It gives me wonder great as my content

To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!

If after every tempest come such calms,

May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!

And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas (190)

Olympus-high and duck again as low

As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,

'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,

My soul hath her content so absolute

That not another comfort like to this

Succeeds in unknown fate.

The heavens forbid

But that our loves and comforts should increase,

Even as our days do grow!

Amen to that, sweet powers!

I cannot speak enough of this content; (199)

It stops me here; it is too much of joy:

And this, and this, the greatest discords be [Kissing her.

That e'er our hearts shall make!

O, you are well tuned now!

But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,

As honest as I am.

Come, let us to the castle.

News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd.

How does my old acquaintance of this isle?

Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;

I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,

I prattle out of fashion, and I dote

In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago, (210)

Go to the bay and disembark my coffers:

Bring thou the master to the citadel;

He is a good one, and his worthiness

Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,

Once more, well met at Cyprus. [Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants.

Do thou meet me presently at the

harbor. Come hither. If thou be'st valiant,

--as, they say, base men being in love have

then a nobility in their natures more than is

native to them,--list me. The lieutenant tonight

watches on the court of guard:--first, I

must tell thee this--Desdemona is directly in

love with him.

With him! why, 'tis not possible.

Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul

be instructed. Mark me with what violence

she first loved the Moor, but for bragging and

telling her fantastical lies: and will she love

him still for prating? let not thy discreet heart

think it. Her eye must be fed; and what

delight shall she have to look on the devil?

When the blood is made dull with the act of

sport, there should be, again to inflame it and

to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in

favor, sympathy in years, manners and

beauties; all which the Moor is defective in: now,

for want of these required conveniences, her

delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin

to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the

Moor; very nature will instruct her in it and

compel her to some second choice. Now, sir,

this granted,--as it is a most pregnant and unforced

position--who stands so eminent in the

degree of this fortune as Cassio does? a knave

very voluble; no further conscionable than in

putting on the mere form of civil and humane

seeming, for the better compassing of his salt

and most hidden loose affection? why, none;

why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a

finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp

and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage

never present itself; a devilish knave.

Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and

hath all those requisites in him that folly and

green minds look after: a pestilent complete

knave; and the woman hath found him


I cannot believe that in her; she's

full of most blessed condition.

Blessed fig's-end! the wine she drinks

is made of grapes: if she had been blessed, she

would never have loved the Moor. Blessed

pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with

the palm of his hand? didst not mark that?

Yes, that I did; but that was but


Lechery, by this hand; an index and

obscure prologue to the history of lust and

foul thoughts. They met so near with their

lips that their breaths embraced together. Villanous

thoughts, Roderigo! when these mutualities

so marshal the way, hard at hand

comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate

conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled

by me: I have brought you from Venice.

Watch you to-night; for the command, I'll

lay't upon you. Cassio knows you not. I'll

not be far from you: do you find some occasion

to anger Cassio, either by speaking too

loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what

other course you please, which the time shall

more favorably minister.


Sir, he is rash and very sudden in

choler, and haply may strike at you: provoke

him, that he may; for even out of that will I

cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qualification

shall come into no true taste again

but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you

have a shorter journey to your desires by the

means I shall then have to prefer them; and

the impediment most profitably removed,

without the which there were no expectation

of our prosperity.

I will do this, if I can bring it to any


I warrant thee. Meet me by and by

at the citadel: I must fetch his necessaries

ashore. Farewell.

Adieu. [Exit.

That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;

That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit:

The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,

Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,

And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona

A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;

Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure

I stand accountant for as great a sin,

But partly led to diet my revenge,

For that I do suspect the lusty Moor

Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof

Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;

And nothing can or shall content my soul

Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife,

Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor (310)

At least into a jealousy so strong

That judgement cannot cure. Which thing to do,

If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash

For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,

I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,

Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb--

For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too--

Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me,

For making him egregiously an ass (319)

And practising upon his peace and quiet

Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused:

Knavery's plain face is never seen till used. [Exit.


A street.
Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People following.

It is Othello's pleasure, our noble

and valiant general, that, upon certain tidings

now arrived, importing the mere perdition of

the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into

triumph; some to dance, some to make bonfires,

each man to what sport and revels his

addiction leads him: for, besides these beneficial

news, it is the celebration of his nuptial.

So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed

All offices are open, and there is

full liberty of feasting from this present hour

of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven

bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general

Othello! [Exeunt.


A hall in the castle.
Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants.

Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:

Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop,

Not to outsport discretion.

Iago hath direction what to do;

But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye

Will I look to't.

Iago is most honest.

Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest

Let me have speech with you.
[To Desdemona]
Come, my dear love,

The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;

That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.

Good night. [Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants.
Enter IAGO.

Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.

Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not

yet ten o' the clock. Our general casts us

thus early for the love of his Desdemona;

who let us not therefore blame: he hath not

yet made wanton the night with her; and she

is sport for Jove.

She's a most exquisite lady.

And, I'll warrant her, full of game. (21)

Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.

What an eye she has! methinks it

sounds a parley of provocation.

An inviting eye; and yet methinks

right modest.

And when she speaks, is it not an

alarum to love?

She is indeed perfection.

Well, happiness to their sheets!

Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and

here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants

that would fain have a measure to the health

of black Othello.

Not to-night, good Iago: I have very

poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I

could well wish courtesy would invent some

other custom of entertainment.

O, they are our friends; but one cup: (39)

I'll drink for you.

I have drunk but one cup to-night,

and that was craftily qualified too, and, behold,

what innovation it makes here: I am

unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not

task my weakness with any more.

What, man! 'tis a night of revels;

the gallants desire it.

Where are they?

Here at the door; I pray you, call

them in.

I'll do 't; but it dislikes me. [Exit.

If I can fasten but one cup upon him, (51)

With that which he hath drunk to-night already,

He'll be as full of quarrel and offence

As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,

Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,

To Desdemona hath to-night caroused

Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch:

Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,

That hold their honors in a wary distance,

The very elements of this warlike isle, (60)

Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,

And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards,

Am I to put our Cassio in some action

That may offend the isle.--But here they come:

If consequence do but approve my dream,

My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. Re-enter CASSIO; with him MONTANO and Gentlemen; Servants following with wine.

'Fore God, they have given me a

rouse already.

Good faith, a little one; not past a

pint, as I am a soldier. (70)

Some wine, ho!

And let me the canakin clink, clink;
And let me the canakin clink:
A soldier's but a man;
A life's but a span;
Why, then, let a soldier drink.

Some wine, boys!

'Fore God, an excellent song.

I learned it in England, where, indeed,

they are most potent in potting: your

Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied

Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing to your English.

Is your Englishman so expert in his


Why, he drinks you, with facility,

your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow

your Almain; he gives your Hollander

a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled.

To the health of our general!

I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do

you justice.

O sweet England!

King Stephen was a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown;

He held them sixpence all too dear, With that he call'd the tailor lown.

He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree:

'Tis pride that pulls the country down; Then take thine auld cloak about thee. (100)

Some wine, ho!

Why, this is a more exquisite song

than the other.

Will you hear't again?

No; for I hold him to be unworthy

of his place that does those things. Well,

God's above all; and there be souls must be

saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

It's true, good lieutenant.

For mine own part,--no offence to

the general, nor any man of quality,--I hope

to be saved. (112)

And so do I too, lieutenant.

Ay, but, by your leave, not before

me; the lieutenant is to be saved before the

ancient. Let's have no more of this; let's to

our affairs.--Forgive us our sins!--Gentlemen,

let's look to our business. 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 speak well enough.

Excellent well.

Why, very well then; you must not

think then that I am drunk. [Exit.

To the platform, masters; come,

let's set the watch. (126)

You see this fellow that is gone before;

He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar

And give direction: and do but see his vice;

'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,

The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him. (131)

I fear the trust Othello puts him in,

On some odd time of his infirmity,

Will shake this island.

But is he often thus?

'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:

He'll watch the horologe a double set,

If drink rock not his cradle.

It were well

The general were put in mind of it.

Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature (139)

Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,

And looks not on his evils: is not this true? Enter RODERIGO.

[Aside to him]
How now, Roderigo!

I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. [Exit Roderigo,

And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor

Should hazard such a place as his own second

With one of an ingraft infirmity:

It were an honest action to say

So to the Moor.

Not I, for this fair island:

I do love Cassio well; and would do much

To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise? [Cry within: 'Help! help!'
Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO.

You rogue! you rascal!

What's the matter, lieutenant? (151)

A knave teach me my duty!

I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

Beat me!

Dost thou prate, rogue? [Striking Roderigo.

Nay, good lieutenant; [Staying him.

I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

Let me go, sir,

Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

Come, come, you're drunk.

Drunk! [They fight.

Aside to Roderigo
Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny. [Exit Roderigo.

Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;-- (159)

Help, ho!--Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,-sir;--

Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed! [Bell rings.

Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho!

The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold!

You will be shamed for ever. Re-enter OTHELLO and Attendants.

What is the matter here?

'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death. [Faints.

Hold, for your lives!

Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,--gentlemen,--

Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?

Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!

Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?

Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that (171)

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 soul light; he dies upon his motion.

Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle

>From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?

Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,

Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee. (179)

I do not know: friends all but now, even now,

In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom

Devesting them for bed; and then, but now--

As if some planet had unwitted men--

Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,

In opposition bloody. I cannot speak

Any beginning to this peevish odds;

And would in action glorious I had lost

Those legs that brought me to a part of it!

How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?

I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak. (190)

Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;

The gravity and stillness of your youth

The world hath noted, and your name is great

In mouths of wisest censure: 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.

Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:

Your officer, Iago, can inform you,--

While I spare speech, which something now offends me,-- (200)

Of all that I do know: nor know I aught

By me that's said or done amiss this night;

Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,

And to defend ourselves it be a sin

When violence assails us.

Now, by heaven,

My blood begins my safer guides to rule;

And passion, having my best judgement collied,

Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,

Or do but lift this arm. the best of you

Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know (210)

How this foul rant began, who set it on;

And he that is approved in this offence,

Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,

Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,

Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,

To manage private and domestic quarrel,

In night, and on the court and guard of safety!

'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began 't?

If partially affined, or leagued in office,

Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,

Thou art no soldier. (220)

Touch me not so near:

I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth

Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;

Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth

Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.

Montano and myself being in speech,

There comes a fellow crying out for help;

And Cassio following him with determined sword,

To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman

Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause: (230)

Myself the crying fellow did pursue,

Lest by his clamor--as it so fell out--

The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,

Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather

For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,

And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night

I ne'er might say before. When I came back--

For this was brief--I found them close together,

At blow and thrust; even as again they were

When you yourself did part them. (240)

More of this matter cannot I report:

But men are men; the best sometimes forget:

Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,

As men in rage strike those that wish them best,

Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received

>From him that fled some strange indignity,

Which patience, could not pass.

I know, Iago,

Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,

Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee;

But never more be officer of mine. Re-enter DESDEMONA, attended.

Look, if my gentle love be not raised up!

I'll make thee an example.

What's the matter?

All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed.

Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:

Lead him off. [To Montano, who is led off.

Iago, look with care about the town,

And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.

Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life

To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. [Exeunt all but Iago and Cassio.

What, are you hurt, lieutenant? (260)

Ay, past all surgery.

Marry, heaven forbid!

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O,

I have lost my reputation! I have lost the

immortal part of myself, and what remains is

bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!

As I am an honest man, I thought

you had received some bodily wound; there is

more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation

is an idle and most false imposition; oft

got without merit, and lost without deserving:

you have lost no reputation at all, unless you

repute yourself such a loser. What, man!

there are ways to recover the general again:

you are but now cast in his mood, a punishment

more in policy than in malice; even so as one

would beat his offenceless dog to affright an

imperious lion: sue to him again, and he's


I will rather sue to be despised than

to deceive so good a commander with so slight,

so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer.

Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble?

swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with

one's own shadow? O thou invisible spirit of

wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,

let us call thee devil!

What was he that you followed with

your sword? What had he done to you?

I know not.

Is't possible?

I remember a mass of things, but

nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing

wherefore. O God, that men should put an

enemy in their mouths to steal away their

brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance,

revel and applause transform ourselves into


Why, but you are now well enough:

how came you thus recovered?

It hath pleased the devil drunkenness

to give place to the devil wrath: one unperfectness

shows me another, to make me

frankly despise myself.

Come, you are too severe a moraler:

as the time, the place, and the condition of

this country stands, I could heartily wish this

had not befallen; but, since it is as it is,

mend it for your own good.

I will ask him for my place again;

he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as

many mouths as Hydra, such an answer

would stop them all. To be now a sensible

man, by and by a fool, and presently a

beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup

is unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.

Come, come, good wine is a good

familiar creature, if it be well used: exclaim

no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I

think you think I love you.

I have well approved it, sir. I


You or any man living may be drunk

at a time, man. I'll tell you what you shall

do. Our general's wife is now the general: I

may say so in this respect, for that he hath

devoted and given up himself to the contemplation,

mark, and denotement of her parts

and graces: confess yourself freely to her;

importune her help to put you in your place

again: she is of so free, so kind, so apt, so

blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her

goodness not to do more than she is requested:

this broken joint between you and her husband

entreat her to splinter; and, my fortunes

against any lay worth naming, this crack of

your love shall grow stronger than it was


You advise me well.

I protest, in the sincerity of love and

honest kindness.

I think it freely; and betimes in the

morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona

to undertake for me: I am desperate of

my fortunes if they check me here.

You are in the right. Good night.

lieutenant; I must to the watch.

Good night, honest Iago. [Exit.

And what's he then that says I play the villain?

When this advice is free I give and honest,

Probal to thinking and indeed the course

To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy

The inclining Desdemona to subdue

In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful

As the free elements. And then for her

To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism, (350)

All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,

His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,

That she may make, unmake, do what she list,

Even as her appetite shall play the god

With his weak function. How am I then a villain

To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,

Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!

When devils will the blackest sins put on,

They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,

As I do now: for whiles this honest fool (360)

Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes

And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,

I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,

That she repeals him for her body's lust;

And by how much she strives to do him good,

She shall 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. Re-enter RODERIGO.

How now, Roderigo!

I do follow here in the chase, not like

a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the

cry. My money is almost spent; I have been

to-night exceedingly well cudgelled; and I

think the issue will be, I shall have so much

experience for my pains, and so, with no

money at all and a little more wit, return

again to Venice.

How poor are they that have not patience!

What wound did ever heal but by degrees?

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

And wit depends on dilatory time.

Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, (381)

And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio:

Though other things grow fair against the sun,

Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:

Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning;

Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.

Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:

Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:

Nay, get thee gone. [Exit Roderigo.]
Two things are to be done:

My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress; (390)

I'll set her on;

Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,

And bring him jump when he may Cassio find

Soliciting his wife: ay, that's the way:

Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit.

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