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SCENE XI. Manent lago and Montano.
Mont. To the platform, malters ; come, let's set:

the watch.
lago. You see this fellow that is


He is a soldier, fit to stand by Cæfar,
And give direction. And do but see his vice;
'Tis to his virtues a just equinox,
The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pity of him ;:.
I lear the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odd tiine of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.

Mont. But is he often thus ?

lass. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep
He'll watch the horologue a double set,
If drink rock not his cradle.

Mont. It were well
The General were put in mind of it:
Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Callio,
And looks not on his evils. Is not this true ?

Enter Rodorigo. lago. How now, Rodorigo ? I pray you, after the Lieutenant, go. [Exit Rod.

Mont And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor
Should bazard such a place as his own second,
With one of an ingraft infirmity;
It were an honest action to say so
· Unto the Moor,

lago. Not 1, for this fair island ;
I do love Caffio well, and would do much
To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noise ?

[1Vithin, Help! help
Reventer Caflio, pursuing Rodorigo:
Caf. You rogue ! you rascal !
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 ;

[Staying him. I pray you, Sir, hold your hand. Gas. Let me go, Sir, or I'll knock you o’er the maz-.

zard, Mont. Come, come, you're drunk. Caf. Drunk?

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

[Exit Rodorigo. Nay, good Lieutenant-Alas, Gentlemen -Help, ho!

--Lieutenant Sir Montano Help, masters! here's a goodly watch indeed Who's that who rings the belldiablo, ho!

[Bell rings. The town will rise. Fie, fie, Lieutenant ! hold : You will be sham'd for ever..

SCENE Xll. 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.
lago. Hold, ho! Lieutenant-sir-Montano

Have you forgot all sense of place and duty ?
The General ipeaks to you-hold, hold, for shame

Oth. Why, how now, ho? from whence ariseth chis ?
Are we turn'd Turks ? and to ou selves do that,
Which Heaven hath forbid the Ottomires ?
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl;
He that flirs 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 ?
Honest Iago, that looks dead with grieving, .
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.

lago. I do not know ; friends all, but now, even now In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom Divesting them for bed; and then, but (As if some planet had unwitted men), Swords ont, and tilting one at other's breasts, In opposition bloody I can't speak Any beginning to this peevish odds, And 'would in action gloricus I had lost


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Those legs that brought me to a part of it!

Oih. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?
Caf. I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.

Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be civil ::
The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted; and your name is great
In mouths of wiselt censure,

What's the inatter,
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, lago, can inform

While I fpare fpeech, which something now offends mej,
Of all that I do know; nor know I aught
By me ihat’s laid or done amiss this night,
Unless fell-charity * be sometimes á vice,
And to defend ourselves it be a sing,
When violence assails uş.

Oth Nove, by Heav'n,
My blood! begins my fafer guides to rule ;
And passion, having my belt judgement choler'd;
Assays to lead the way. It ionre fir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall link in my rebuke. Give me to know..
How this foul rout began; who set it on;:
And he that is approvd in this offence,
Tho' 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 brim-full of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel?
In night, and on the court and guard of safety?
'Tis monstrous, Say, Iago, wlio began't?

Mont. If partially affin'd, or leagu'd in office, ,
Thou dost deliver more or lets than truth,
Thou art no soldier.

lago. Touch me not so near:
I'd rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Collio :
Yet I perfuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong hin. Thus 'uis, General :
Montano and myself being in speech,

* felf charity, for charity inherent in the person's nature.

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There comes a fellow crying out for help,
And Castio following with determin'd sword,
To execute upon lím. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Callio, and intreats his paule;
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lelt hy his clamour (as it so fell out)
The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot,
Out-ran my purpose: I return'd, the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Caflio 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; ev’n as again they were,
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report.
But men are men; the best fonetimes forget :
Tho' Cassio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best ;
Yet surely Calis, I believe, receiv'd
From him that fled fome strange indignity,
Which patience could not pals.

Oth. I know, lago,
Thy honelty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Caffio. Callio, I love thee :
But never more be officer of mine.

Eriter 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, sweeting, come to bed,
sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon,
Lead him off.
Jago, look with care about the town,
And filence those whom this vile brawl distracted,
Come, Desdemona ; 'tis the soldier's life,
To have their balmy lumbers wak'd with strife.

SCENE XIII. Manent lago and Caflio.
Iago. What, are you hurt, Lieutenant ?
Gaj. Palt all surgery.

lago. Marry, Heav'n forbid !

Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation! oh I have lost my reputation ! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation ! lago, my reputation

Iago. As I am an honest man, I had thought you had receiv'd some bodily wound ; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false impolition ; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, un. less 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 offence. Jefs dog, to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him a: gain, and he's your's.

Caf. I will rather fue to be despis’d, than to deceive so good a commander, with fo flight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk ? and speak parrot * and squabble ? swagger ? (wear and discourse fustian with one's own shadow ? Oh thou invincible spirit of wine! if thou hast go name to be known by, let us call thee devil,

lago. What was he that you follow'd with your sword? what had he done to you?

Caf. I know not, lago. Is't possible?

Caf. I remember a mass of things, but nothing diftinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that men lhould put an enemy in their mouths, to steal away their brains! that we should with joy, plealance, rev.I, and applause; transform ourselves into beasts.

lago. 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 unperfectness thews me anncher, to make me frankly despite myself,

Iago. Come, you are too levere a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily with this had not bzfallen; but since it. is as it is, mend it tor your own good.

* A pl.rafe signifying to act foolith'y and childishly,

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